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Its intermediate host can be any one of a hundred cold-blooded animals." "Is there no place else where it can be attacked?" "Sure, in the body of the final host, or on its final encysting place. But that won't eliminate the bug." "Why not?" "It'll still survive in its infective form and enough Lani will get subacute dosage to propagate it until the time is right for another epizootic.
"But that's impossible." She shook her head. "It's a miracle perhaps, but it's not impossible. It's happened. Can't you see the difference?" "See what? You look just as you always do." "I suppose you can't see it yet," she admitted. "But I am with child. I'm two weeks past my time." Kennon's mind leaped to the obvious conclusion. Pseudo-pregnancy. He had seen it before among Lani at Hillside Farm.
It was a dark, red-splashed thing that struggled and writhed inside him, a fierce unreasoning rage that seethed and bubbled yet could not break free. For an instant, with blinding clarity, Kennon understood the feelings of the caged male Lani on Otpen One. And he sympathized. "Follow me," he said and started around the ship. "Stay no go ahead," Douglas said, "but remember, I'm right behind you."
The question obviously didn't demand a reply, so Kennon kept discreetly silent as Alexander crossed the room to the two doors flanking the couch on which the Lani had sat. He opened the left-hand one revealing a modern grav-shaft that carried them swiftly to the uppermost level. They walked down a short corridor and stopped before another door.
"Besides," Kennon added, "I have a microscope. I checked your so-called fertilizing solution. I found spermatozoa, and spermatozoa only come from males. What's more, the males have to be the same species as the females or fertilization will not take place. So there must be male Lani. Nothing else fits. You've been using artificial insemination on the main-island Lani.
"That story you've spread about artificial fertilization has more holes in it than a sieve. That technique has been investigated a thousand times. And it has never worked past the first generation. If you had been using it, the Lani would long ago have been extinct.
"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.
Alexander's voice was interested. "I have. Hire a psychologist. And reopen Olympus." "It'll be the same story," Jordan said. "Not if you apply experimental procedure," Kennon said. "Divide the place into a number of separate units in which groups of say ten Lani of various ages are kept. Let every group know where they are, but don't let them come in contact with one another.
George had his lesson and Kennon felt oddly degraded. He sighed, dragged George back into the cell, and locked the door. Then he turned to Douglas. The howls of hate from the caged Lani died to a sullen silence as Kennon gently examined the limp body. Douglas wasn't dead. His neck was dislocated, not broken, but he was in serious condition.
And both men smiled, but the smiles were not amused. "Judging from Copper," Alexander said, "I don't think we'll have to worry about how the Lani will turn out." He looked at Kennon with mild sympathy. "You are going to have quite a time with her," he said. "I suppose so. I'll probably never know whether I'm guided or whether I'm doing the guiding.
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