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Updated: June 24, 2025
Kennon's voice was flat and filled with utter conviction. "There's a reason why Copper's wearing that suit," Kennon continued, "and you won't know that either." The Burkholtz swiveled around to point at Kennon's belly. "I've had about enough of this. Let's have it. Tell me what you're doing here!" "I'll do better than that," Kennon said promptly. "I'll show you.
Even the spaceship wasn't the absolute proof that would be needed to overturn the earlier legal decision. Other and better proof was needed something that would stand up in any court in the Brotherhood. He hoped the spaceship would hold that proof. But Kennon's eagerness to find out what was inside the ancient spacer was tempered by hard practicality.
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. "Are you ready, Doctor?" the Lani standing across the table from him asked. "Shall I expose the viscera?" Kennon's stomach froze. Of course! He should have realized! No pathologist did his own dissection. He examined. And that he could do.
Here he was, less than a full day on the job, dreaming how he could ruin his employer, shake the foundation of human civilization, and force ten thousand billion humans to change their comfortable habit patterns and their belief in the unchangeable sameness of men. He was, he reflected wryly, an incurable romantic. "Wake up, Doctor, it's six A.M." A pleasant voice cut through Kennon's slumber.
"He must be sick or he would have killed you. George is clever in a stupid sort of way." Kennon looked into the cubicle. The Lani glared back and growled. There was a beastlike note in his voice that made the short hairs on Kennon's neck prickle. "That fellow needs a lesson," he said. "You want to give it to him?" Douglas asked. "Not particularly." "Ha! man! you afraid!" the Lani taunted.
I have received a letter from your Uncle Carter telling me of his pleasant visit to you and of his agreeable impressions of his nephew and new niece. He was taken very sick in Richmond and delayed there so long that he could not be present at Wm. Kennon's wedding, and missed the festivities at his neighbour Gilliam's and at Norwood.
His stare combined the analytical inspection of the pathologist, the probing curiosity of the psychiatrist, and the weighing appraisal of the butcher. Kennon's thoughts about Alexander's youth vanished that instant. Those eyes belonged to a leader on the battlefield of galactic business. Kennon felt the conditioned respect for authority surge through him in a smothering wave.
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