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Why after five thousand years of exploration, invasion, and colonization did the human race still consider the galaxy as its oyster, and themselves uniquely qualified to hold the knife? He hadn't thought this way since he had given the Varl to his girl friend of the moment, and had blasted off for Beta. Now the questions returned to haunt him.
"You mean this thing attacks human beings?" "Preferentially," Kennon said. "It's strange, too, because it originated on Santos so far as we know. In fact, some people think that the Varl bred it for a weapon to use against us before we conquered them. They could have done it. Their biological science was of a high enough order." "But how did it get here?"
But I'll try to clean it up as quickly as possible. I'm pretty sure of the fluke, and it's a hard one to control." "Hepatodirus?" Kennon nodded. "That's an offworld parasite, isn't it?" "Yes. It originated on Santos. Parasitized the Varl originally, but liked humans better. It's adapted to a hundred different planetary environments, and it keeps spreading.
"No more than killing a cow for beef." "You know," Kennon said, "I've never thought of what happened to aged Lani. Sure, I've never seen one, but Lord Lister! I'm a fool." "You'll get used to the idea," Mullins said. "They aren't human, and except for a few, they aren't as intelligent as a Santosian Varl. I know that they look like us except for those tails, but that's as far as it goes.
We have taken over and they, like other lesser creatures on other worlds, have been bent to our will and uses. I could pity them, but being human I cannot afford that luxury." Kennon understood. He, too, had felt that sensation, that odd tightening of the throat when he first saw a Varl on Santos. The Varl had been the dominant life form there until men had come.
Now they were just another animal added to humanity's growing list of pets and livestock. The little Varl with their soft-furred bodies and clever six-fingered hands made excellent pets and precision workmen.
What you have here is a Kardonian variant which has adapted to some particular intermediate host on this world. Until now, its final host was either man or Varl. Now we have a third, the Lani. And apparently they are the most susceptible of the three. It never kills Varl. And humans, while they're more susceptible, only occasionally succumb, but the Lani appear to be the most susceptible of all.
Humanity had met some fierce competitors, but none with its explosive acquisitive nature, and none with its drive to conquer, colonize, and rule. And probably it never would. The little Varl were one race among hundreds that had fallen before the fierceness and the greed of men. But unlike most others, the Varl were not combative. Therefore they had survived.
The products of those clever hands, the tiny instruments, the delicate microminiaturized control circuits, the incredibly fine lacework and tapestries, formed the bulk of Santos' interstellar trade. He had owned a Varl once and had delighted in its almost human intelligence. But the Varl weren't human and there lay their tragedy.
"You didn't help any." "Why should we? Does one treat a shrake like a brother? or a varl? or a dog? We treat them like the animals they are. And we've done no worse with the Lani. Our consciences are clear." Kennon laughed humorlessly. "Yet this clear conscience makes you want to kill me, so you can keep on treating them as animals even though you know they're human." "I know nothing of the sort.
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