Chapter VI

Jordan opened the door of the two-story building below Blalok’s house. “This is it,” he said, “just outside your front door. Convenient--no?”

“Too convenient,” Kennon said, “also too quiet. Isn’t anyone on duty?”

“I wouldn’t know. Old Doc never kept the place open at night.”

There was a stir of movement in the darkness, the lights flashed on, and a sleepy-eyed Lani blinked at them in the sudden glare. She looked blankly at Kennon and then brightened as she saw Jordan. “What’s the trouble, sir?” she asked.

“Nothing. We want to look at the Lani I sent down this morning--Dr. Kennon would like to inspect the carcass.”

“You’re the new doctor?” the Lani asked. “Thank goodness you’ve come! I’ll get the staff. I’ll be back in a moment.” She stepped quickly over to the switchboard beside the door and punched five buttons. Four more humanoids came into the room, followed a little later by a fifth.

“Where’s the emergency?” one asked.

“He is--it’s our new doctor.”

“More females,” Kennon muttered to himself. He turned to Jordan. “Aren’t there any males in this crew?”

Jordan stared at him with mild surprise. “No, sir--didn’t you know? There are no male Lani.”

“What?”

“Just that,” Jordan said. “Only females. There hasn’t been a male on the island since Old Man Alexander took over. He killed them all.”

“But that’s impossible! How do they reproduce?”

“Ever hear of artificial fertilization?”

“Sure--but that’s a dead end. The offspring are haploids and they’re sterile. The line would die out in a generation.”

“Not the Lani--you can see for yourself. We’ve been using the technique here for better than four centuries, and we’re still doing all right. Over forty generations so far, and from the looks of things we can go on indefinitely.”

“But how is it done?”

“I don’t know. That’s Alexander’s secret. The Boss-man doesn’t tell us everything. All I know is that we get results. Old Doc knew how it was done, and I suppose you will too, but don’t ask me. I’m dumb.”

Kennon shrugged. Maybe--maybe not. At any rate there was no sense in belaboring the point. He turned to the staff. Five of them were the same big-boned heavy-framed type that apparently did most of the manual labor. The sixth, the late arrival, was an elegant creature, a bronze-skinned, green-eyed minx with an elfin face half hidden under a wavy mass of red-brown hair. Unlike the others, she had been docked--and in contrast to their heavy eyes and sleep-puffed features she was alert and lively. She flashed him an impish grin, revealing clean white teeth.

Kennon smiled back. He couldn’t help it. And suddenly the tension and strangeness was broken. He felt oddly at ease. “Which of you are on duty?” he asked.

“All of us,” the redhead replied, “if it’s necessary. What do you want us to do?”

“He’s already told me. He wants that last carcass prepped for a post-mortem,” the nightcall Lani said.

“Good,” the redhead said. “It’ll be nice to get to work again.” She turned to face Kennon. “Now, Doctor--would you like to see your office? Old Doc left a fine collection of notes on Lani anatomy and perhaps you could do with a little review.”

“I could do with a lot of it,” Kennon admitted. “Unless the inner structure of a Lani is as similar to human as their outer.”

“There are differences,” the redhead admitted. “After all, we aren’t quite alike.”

“Perhaps I’d better do some reading,” Kennon said.

“You need me any more?” Jordan asked.

“No--I think not.”

“Good. I’ll get back. Frankly, I don’t like this any better than Blalok or the boss, but I’m low man on that pole. See you later.”

Kennon chuckled as Jordan left. “Now, let’s get ready for that cadaver,” he said.

“Carcass, doctor,” the redhead corrected. “A cadaver is a dead human body.” She accented the “human.”

Even in death there is no equality, Kennon thought. He nodded and the Lani led the way to a door which opened into a good-sized office, liberally covered with bookshelves. An old-fashioned plastic desk, some office cybernetics, a battered voicewriter, and a few chairs completed the furnishings. The redhead placed several large folio volumes in front of him and stepped back from the desk as he leafed rapidly through the color plates. It was an excellent atlas. Dr. Williamson had been a careful and competent workman.

Half an hour later, well fortified with a positional knowledge of Lani viscera, Kennon looked up at the redhead. She was still standing patiently, a statue of red-gold and bronze.

“Get a smock and let’s go,” he said. “No--wait a minute.”

“Yes, sir?”

“What’s your name? I don’t want to say ‘Hey you!’”

She smiled. “It’s Copper Glow--want my pedigree too?”

“No--it wouldn’t mean anything to me. Do they call you Copper or Glow? or both?”

“Just Copper, sir.”

“Very well, Copper--let’s get going.”

The body of the dead Lani lay on the steel table, waxy and yellowish in the pitiless light of the fluorescents. She had been hardly more than a child. Kennon felt a twinge of pity--so young--so young to die. And as he looked he was conscious of another feeling.

It had been an open secret among his classmates that he had refused an offer to study human medicine because of his aversion to dissecting cadavers. The sarcoplastic models were all right, but when it came to flesh, Kennon didn’t have the stomach for it. And now, the sight of the dead humanoid brought back the same cold sweat and gut-wrenching nausea that had caused him to turn to veterinary medicine eight years ago.

He fought the spasms back as he approached the table and made the external examination. Icterus and a swollen abdomen--the rest was essentially normal. And he knew with cold certainty that he could not lay a scalpel edge upon that cold flesh. It was too human, too like his own.