The Lani People Part 37

Kennon liked the man instantly. A plump, pink-cheeked man of middle age, with prematurely white hair, Dr. Will Brainard combined a fatherly appearance with an impression of quick intelligence. The fat that sheathed his stocky body had obviously not touched his mind. Brainard rose from the deep chair near the window where he had been sitting, knocked the ashes from his pipe, and bowed stiffly. His eyes--sharp points of blue in the smooth pinkness of his face--surveyed Kennon curiously.

"So you're the young man who takes untrained pregnant women for rides in old-fas.h.i.+oned s.p.a.cers," he said. "Didn't you know what would happen?"

"I was in a hurry, Doctor," Kennon said.

"Obviously. Now tell me about it." Brainard looked at the eager-faced interne standing behind Kennon. "That will be all, Smalley," he said.

Kennon waited until the door closed. "Ordinarily," he said, "I'd never have done a thing like that, but there were some very pressing reasons.

However, I should have given her an injection of Somnol before we started. I'm criminally liable. If anything happens to her--" His voice was tight with worry.

"You'd give her an injection?" Brainard said. "I hope you didn't mean that."

"But I did, sir. I've given thousands of Lani injections."

"What's a Lani?"

"She is, sir. The impression has been that her race isn't human."

"Nonsense--it's obvious she is."

"A Brotherhood Court of Inquiry didn't think so."

"Hmm. Is that so?"

"Yes, sir.--But before I go on, tell me, how is she?"

"Oh, she'll be fine. A little mental therapy and plenty of rest are all she needs. She's a remarkably healthy young woman. But this is beside the point. There are a number of unusual features about this case that need investigation." Brainard took a standard hospital form from his desk. "Mind if I ask you some questions, Doctor?"

"Not at all but you are due for some unpleasant shocks as you go through that form."

"I believe I can survive them," Brainard said dryly.

"This is professional confidence--" Kennon began.

"Of course, of course," Brainard said impatiently. "Now let's get on with it."

"This is the most amazing tale I've ever heard," Brainard said slowly.

"Are you certain you are telling the truth?"

Kennon grinned. "I don't blame you for not believing me--but the evidence is conclusive, and there is enough doc.u.mentary evidence in the s.p.a.ce s.h.i.+p--and in the fact of the s.h.i.+p itself to prove what I am saying. Laboratory tests here will establish the fact that Copper's child is also mine. And as for Flora, a Brotherhood Investigation Team can prove that part."

"That will be attended to," Brainard said grimly.

"But how did you deduce she wasn't from a Betan colony?" Kennon asked.

Brainard smiled. "That wasn't hard. Her sun tan and the condition of her feet proved she was a practicing nudist. No Betan girl ever practices nudism to my knowledge. Besides, the I.D. tattoo under her left arm and the V on her hip are no marks of our culture. Then there was another thing--the serological a.n.a.lysis revealed no gerontal antibodies. She had never received an injection of longevity compound in her life. This might occur, but it's highly improbable. The evidence indicates that she's extra-Betan."

Kennon nodded.

"But this business of her being fifteen years old! That's impossible.

She has the development of a woman of twenty-five."

"Remember the Alpha V colony?" Kennon said.

"Of course--oh--I see! It could be something like that.

Certainly--strong yellow G-type sun--an isolated colony serviced at twenty-year intervals--there was a marked physical precocity."

"And if this had been continued for several millennia?" Kennon asked.

"Hmm--I see. Yes, it's possible. On Alpha V the colonists grew from infancy to maturity in fifteen years."

"And wasn't Heaven one of our early colonies?"

"Yes--it was established after the Great Schism near the end of the First Millennium--when science and religion split irrevocably on this world. We packed the whole lot of them off to a world of their own where they could develop as they pleased. They called it Heaven--odd name for a fogworld--but there's no accounting for tastes." Brainard chuckled.

"I thought that was the case, but I couldn't remember. My ancient history is pretty weak."

"You should read more," Brainard said. "But as I see it--this girl is of Betan ancestry providing your theory and the facts coincide."

"Which could also explain why an outworld species of agerone would be toxic. They tried to prolong Lani life and met with failure. Our plants are mutant forms."

"Just as we are a mutant race," Brainard said, "or partly mutant." He sighed. "You have brought us a great deal of trouble, Kennon. You are bringing matters to a head. If our investigations prove your statements, we are morally bound to open the Lani question. And if those people are of Betan origin--that fellow Alexander will have plenty to answer for."

"I don't believe it is really his fault," Kennon said slowly. "I don't think he has ever known the truth."

"Why didn't you tell him?"

"The answer to that should be obvious. Even though I trusted him completely, I could never be sure. He has a Free Trader background and those people can't he trusted where money's concerned. The whole Kardonian culture is an outgrowth of Free Traderism: small business, independent corporation, linear trusts, and all the cutthroat compet.i.tion such a culture would naturally have. It's a regular jungle of Free Enterprise. I couldn't predict how he would react. He could either act in a moral manner and make rest.i.tution, or he could quietly cut our throats and go on with his business."

"I see. The temptation to cut a throat might be overwhelming."

"They fight commercial wars," Kennon said.

"Disgusting--utterly uncivilized! Under the circ.u.mstances you had no other course. Still, they have no moral right to enslave human beings."

"There is always the element of doubt. Maybe they didn't know. After all, an impartial court declared the Lani alien--and the Betan mutation isn't known throughout the Brotherhood."

"One doesn't go around broadcasting data on the variations of one's germ plasm," Brainard said. "That's a private affair--a matter of personal privacy."

"And public safety?"

Brainard nodded. "We're no more courageous than any other civilization.

We have no desire to borrow trouble. We are content to leave things alone."