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"Beta has one of the highest civilizations in the Brotherhood!" "But you don't have Lani," she said patiently. "So you must be primitive." "Halstead, Fleming, and Ochsner!" Kennon swore. "Do you believe that?" "Naturally, isn't it obvious? You can't possibly be civilized unless you take responsibility for intelligent life other than your own race.
The implications behind the empty eyes of Douglas's Lani sickened him. There were several ways to produce that expression, all of them unpleasant. Hypnoconditioning, the Quiet Treatment, brainburning, transorbital leukotomy, lobectomy all of the products of that diseased period of humanity's thinking when men tampered with the brains of other men in an effort to cure psychic states.
He, too, liked the real thing far better than its imitations. "If it's this profitable, then why sell Lani?" Kennon asked. "It's the Family's idea. Actually since the export type is surplus it does us no harm. We keep enough for servants and the others would be inefficient for most farm work. So disposal by sale is a logical and profitable way of culling.
He could turn the evidence over to the Brotherhood once his contract was over, and better and more capable people than he could settle the Lani legal status. But the inner voice that had called him bestial now called him shirker, coward, and slacker. And this, too, could not be borne. The case of the Lani would have to be pursued as vigorously as he could do it.
Another day, being at the house of Lani, ballet-master of the opera, I saw five or six young girls of thirteen or fourteen years of age accompanied by their mothers, and all exhibiting that air of modesty which is the characteristic of a good education. I addressed a few gallant words to them, and they answered me with down-cast eyes.
The fatal cases usually don't show up before an area is pretty well seeded." "That's not so good." "Well, there's one thing in our favor. The Lani are pretty well concentrated into groups. And so far there doesn't seem to be any infestation outside of Hillside Station except for two deaths in Lani recently sent from there.
One of the handcuff rings scraped across Kennon's cheek, but did nothing more than break the skin. Half paralyzed by the blows to his solar plexus, George's co-ordination was badly impaired. But he kept trying. Kennon wrapped lean fingers about one of George's outstretched hands, bent, pivoted, and slammed the Lani with bone-crushing force against the bars of a nearby cell.
I've never seen an infestation like those Lani had. Their livers were literally crawling with flukes." Kennon paused and looked at Jordan. "You following me?" he asked. "Slowly and poorly," Jordan said. "You're assuming too much knowledge on my part." Kennon chuckled. "You can't say I didn't warn you." "Well I'm really interested in only one thing how do you break the parasite up in business?"
Kennon reacted automatically. His arms came up inside the Lani's and crashed down, elbows out, tearing the Lani loose. He jumped back, rubbing his bruised throat. "That fellow's not sick!" he gasped. "He's crazy!" The Lani glared at him through the bars, disappointment written on his scarred and bearded face. "I warned you," Douglas said. His voice held an undertone of malicious laughter.
He picked up a heavy wrench and began methodically to seat the bolts as Copper wiped the white extrusion of the cover sealant from the shining case. "How?" "The way you hide your knowledge of this ship from the others. I know you better than anyone else on this island, and yet you would fool me." "We Lani are used to hiding things.
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