Copper had been acting strangely of late, Kennon thought as he rolled
over in his bed and watched her standing before the full-length mirror
on the bathroom door. She pivoted slowly before the glass, eying herself
critically, raising her arms over her head, holding them at her sides,
flexing her supple spine and tightening muscles that moved like silken
cords beneath her golden skin.
“What are you trying to do--become a muscle dancer?” Kennon asked idly.
She whirled, a crimson blush deepening the tan of her face. “You were
supposed to be asleep,” she said.
“I’m an unregenerate heel,” he replied, “and I don’t sleep too well
nowadays unless you’re beside me.”
“Well--I suppose you might as well know now as later,” she said. “You’ll
know in any event.”
“Know what?”
“That you’re right. I am human.”
“And what brought on this sudden change of--” He stopped abruptly, his
eyes widening.
“Yes,” Copper said. “I am with child. Your child.”
“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 an odd syndrome
which occasionally occurred in humans and animals. The brain, desiring
children, made demands upon the body and the body responded to its
desire by tricking the brain. Lani were fairly subject to it probably
because they had better imaginations. He would run a few tests when they
went down to the hospital, and once she realized the practical joke her
body was playing everything would be all right. No wonder she seemed
excited.
“We’ll find out about that later,” he said equably. “We’ll settle this
when we get back to the hospital.”
Copper smiled confidently and patted her stomach. “I know what you are
thinking, but you’re wrong. We Lani know about these things. In forty
generations I am the first to conceive as the Master intended.”
“I hope you haven’t,” Kennon said with such bitter sincerity that Copper
looked at him wide-eyed. “Not now. Because if you have, neither your
life nor mine is safe.”
“Why?”
“The Alexanders. Do you think they’ll take it lying down? We’re not
ready for them yet. They’ll fight, and the first thing they’ll do is
kill you and erase me so we would never be able to talk. You have been
declared an animal, and you will not be allowed to change.”
“What can we do?” Copper asked. She shivered. “I do not want to die.”
“Nor do I want you to,” Kennon said.
“I could tell the others.”
“And just what would that accomplish?”
“In a week every Lani on the island would know it. There would be
revolt. For the Lani would no longer be dependent upon Men to survive.
Their greatest hold on us would be gone. And we would be free again on
our island world.”
“You would not!” Kennon said. “That sort of thinking is foolishness.
Alexander would have men here within a week, and a week after that you
would be smashed. Don’t you realize that there are thousands of millions
of men in the galaxy--and to every one of them you would be animals. You
know nothing about what you would face. Your puny hundreds couldn’t even
stand against a fraction of the power Alexander could mount against you.
Have you seen a Burkholtz blaster work? Have you seen remote-control
antipersonnel missiles? Have you push-pull projectors, atomic warheads?
All of these weapons Alexander can command. Don’t you realize he’s an
entrepreneur?--one of the most powerful men in this sector?”
Copper shook her head. “No,” she said in a small voice. “I know nothing
about these things.”
“And do you think forty generations of absolute obedience to men can be
overcome because one Lani says she is pregnant by a man?”
Copper frowned. “You put that in a different way. You talk as if it were
my belief rather than the truth.”
“What is truth?” Kennon said heavily. “Who would believe you? There are
hundreds of others with child.
“Sure you’re human. You know it. I know it. I’ve been trying to convince
you for the past two months. You’re just as human as I am. But pray that
you’re not pregnant. We can’t get out of here in less than four months
and by then everybody will know about you. Someone will certainly check
the records. And after that will come the psychoprobes. Everything will
come to light. The Egg will be destroyed. I will be erased. You will be
dead. And that will be the end of it.” He looked down at her with an odd
expression of pity on his face. “You see?” he demanded harshly.
Copper nodded. “I didn’t understand,” she said. “Don’t be angry with me.
I shouldn’t have told you. I thought you’d be happy.”
“I was never angry with you, but I am with myself. I was stupid. I
didn’t figure on the remote possibility that we might be genetically
compatible. I should have my head examined for putting you in such
danger. However there’s the possibility--the probability--that your body
is playing a trick upon you.”
She shook her head. “You are wrong. I am not mistaken. I am with child
and the child is yours. But the fault is no more yours than mine. I
wanted you before you looked on me. I still do and I do not feel at
fault. That I am yours, that my child is yours is a thing of wonder and
joy. Never could I have expected so much.”
Kennon looked down at her smudged face, streaked with the sudden
rivulets of tears, and bitterness galled his throat. Dear God--let her
be wrong, he prayed silently. Let it be pseudopregnancy this time. Let
the tests be negative.
But they weren’t. Unequivocally they confirmed Copper’s diagnosis. Here
was the proof he needed. The final test that would prove the Lani human.
And he had no way of getting it where it would do any good. It would
take at least four months of steady labor before the ship was ready, and
he didn’t have that sort of time. He was needed here and his prolonged
absence would cause suspicion and investigation. Something would have to
be done--but what? He couldn’t take Copper off the island in an airboat.
They were checked with microscopic care by Otpen One’s IFF. A jeep
didn’t have enough range to take them to the mainland. And even if they
got there they couldn’t get off the planet. Alexander knew everything
that happened on Kardon’s two spaceports. The Egg was the only way, but
the Egg was unfinished and unspaceworthy.
Frantically Kennon considered concealing Copper. He shook his head. It
wouldn’t work. It would be impossible, to hide a baby on a place where
every birth was recorded. Nor could one hide evidence of pregnancy in a
Lani. Childbearing leaves telltale marks upon the body, and Copper, even
if she could be concealed for the duration of her pregnancy, could never
survive the sharp-eyed scrutiny of her fellows or the other humans.
Questions would inevitably be asked.
There had to be a solution. He rubbed his forehead wearily. It was
strange how so little a thing as the union of a spermatozoon and an ovum
could produce so much trouble. He looked across the office at Copper
placidly filing case cards. She wasn’t worrying. With sublime faith,
she was sure that he would find the answer, the one that would solve
everything. He shuddered. The only logical solution was abortion--and
that was unthinkable! He would not murder his child--nor would Copper
permit it if he was capable of doing so.
It was almost a relief when his phone rang and Blalok’s voice came
cheerfully across the wire.
“Tried to get you about an hour ago,” the superintendent said, “but your
girl said you were busy.”
“I was.”
“You through now?”
“Yes.”
“Well, get up to the fortress. Alexander just flew in and he’s calling a
meeting. Something important has come up.”
Something important! A wave of ice rattled down Kennon’s spine, and then
he grinned feebly. Alexander didn’t know. He couldn’t know. It had to be
something else.
“I’ll be right up,” he said, marveling at the calmness in his voice.
Kennon couldn’t help comparing this meeting with the one a year ago.
The location was different--the conference room in Alexandria was more
formal than Blalok’s parlor but the same people were present: Alexander,
Blalok, Jordan, and himself. Somehow Alexander seemed to have shrunk. He
was no longer as impressive as he had been. But the man still radiated
force, even though it didn’t seem quite so overpowering. The year,
Kennon thought, had done much to build his self-confidence. He felt
assured rather than nervous.
“Good to see you, Kennon,” Alexander said. “Reports say you’re doing a
good job.”
“I can’t claim the credit,” Kennon said. “Eighty-five per cent of our
success is due to co-operation from the operating staff. And that’s
Blalok’s doing--he knocked the heads of the division managers together
and they took care of their staffs. Otherwise we could have had a bad
time.”
“But you didn’t,” Alexander said. “And you were the motive force.”
“I’ve darn near motivated myself out of a job,” Kennon said. “They
co-operate all too well nowadays.”
“Which goes to prove that my theories on preventive medicine are right,”
Alexander said, turning to Blalok.
“It looks that way,” Blalok admitted, “but that could be because you
picked a good man.”
“He’s good in more ways than one,” Alexander said. “Or did he tell you
he saved Douglas’s life out on Otpen One?”
“He’s never said a word.”
Alexander smiled. “Another point in his favor. He knows how to keep his
mouth shut.”
“Not when he’s telling someone what to do about disease,” Jordon
interjected.
“Or telling someone off when they haven’t followed directions,” Blaiok
added.
“Better and better. I was sure that he was the one we needed when we
first met.”
Kennon felt his ears turn flaming red.
“But that’s not the reason I brought you here. This isn’t a Jac Kennon
admiration society. I called you because I want to expand the Lani
breeding program.”
“Why?” Jordan asked.
Blalok stiffened. “You know my feeling about that, sir. I’ve never liked
the idea of selling them. If that’s what’s in your mind--”
Alexander shook his head. “Simmer down,” he said, as he seated himself
at the head of the table. “There’s going to be no selling. The Lani are
too valuable for that. We’ll need them more than the money they’d bring
on the market. You see--I’ve acquired a planet out on the periphery. A
place called Phoebe. One of our ships found it, and I staked a discovery
claim on the major land mass, and the crew made lesser claims that
covered all the available land. Last month the Brotherhood allowed the
claims. Last week the crewmen sold me their land. Phoebe’s a lovely
place--quite a bit like Flora--and the ecological tests show it’s
capable of supporting mammalian life. Just before I came here I sent
three shiploads of exterminators to clean it up and make it ready for
us. It should be ready in two years.”
“What sort of an ecology are you exterminating?” Jordan asked.
“Not that it makes any difference,” Alexander said, “but it’s mainly
reptilian. Nothing over Group I. We’ll restock with Floran animals.”
Jordan sighed. “Since that’s the way it is, it doesn’t make any
difference,” he said. “But it could have. The Lani are sensitive to
things like that. If they thought that they were walking in over a pile
of bodies they’d do badly. It’d be like Olympus all over again. And we
couldn’t keep them from knowing. We talk and we forget, but they’d tell
each other--and they’d remember.”
“I know,” Alexander said, “somehow they’ve never forgotten that
Grandfather trapped the last of the Lani males on Olympus.”
Jordan nodded. “They can’t stand the place. That’s why we had to abandon
the station.”
“Does this new world have a moon?” Kennon asked abruptly.
“Yes--in fact it has two.”
“Habitable?”
“No--they’re too small to hold air. But men could live there in
domes--but why do you?--oh! I see! I hadn’t considered that point.”
Alexander’s hand darted to the phone beside him. “Get me Albertsville,”
he snapped. “Yes, my offices--I want Mr. Oliver in purchasing and
contracting. Hello--Ward? Alexander here. Yes--everything’s fine. I
have a job for you--use your scrambler-pattern two.” Alexander
dialed the scrambler code on the second dial at the base of the phone,
effectively preventing eavesdropping by beam tappers. “Yes,” he went on.
“It’s Project Phoebe. Have you secured title to the moons? You haven’t?
Well--you’d better do it before some of our competitors get bright
ideas. Sure they know about the project--do you think they’re stupid?
Warren over at Consolidated practically told me that he was onto our
scheme. So get title to those moons. Since they’re uninhabitable and
within the planet’s primary field they come under the Spatial Debris Act
and you should be able to get Kardonian title without any great amount
of trouble. Naturally we want them.--For defense--what else? We’ll have
most of our eggs in that basket. No--I don’t know how we overlooked that
point. But if it wasn’t for a bright young man out here we’d have left
ourselves wide open. Now get cracking--get that leak plugged!” Alexander
dropped the phone back in its cradle and sighed. “Well--that’s buttoned
up,” he said. “Thanks, Kennon.”
Kennon looked at Alexander’s grinning face, his own impassive, but a
shattering certainty exploded in his mind--Alexander was a telepath!
That was his difference! That was the thing that made him feared and
respected by his business associates. It wouldn’t have been enough on
the Central Worlds, where men knew of sensitives and took precautions
against them. But out here on the periphery it was a deadly advantage.
“So I gave it away,” Alexander said. “I suppose I was careless, but your
thoughts about the moons shocked me.”
“You practically told me once before, when you hired me,” Kennon said,
“but I never realized it.”
“You were too excited then.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Kennon said. “At any rate I didn’t add the facts
correctly.” From somewhere deep in his memory an old quip came floating
to the surface: “An executive is a man who picks brains--others’
brains.” By that definition Alexander was an executive of the first
class. Alexander chuckled.
Suddenly Kennon wanted to run. Panic flooded him! What had he been
thinking about? Had he thought of--two times two are four, four times
four are sixteen, sixteen times sixteen are--let’s see, six times
sixteen is ninety-six, one times sixteen is--six, five, carry
one--two--two hundred fifty-six. Two hundred fifty-six times--
“What’s eating you?” Alexander demanded.
“I’m angry,” Kennon said. “I told you the conditions I’d sign that
contract, and you wrote a Peeper Clause into it. And then you peep in
the worst way possible. There’s no defense against a Telep unless
you know about him; you’ve had my whole mind bare! You’ve violated my
personal privacy like no man has done before. Sure I’m mad. I expected
honesty from you--and you peep!” The anger was stronger now--a wave of
raw emotion based on a lifetime of training in mutual respect of a man’s
privacy--a feeling intensified by his childhood environment of a crowded
planetary ecology and the cramped crew quarters on a spaceship. To
Kennon, Alexander had committed the ultimate sin.
“I can see I made a mistake by not telling you,” Alexander said. His
voice was cold. “But you have no right to insult me.”
“I’m not saying it, am I?” Kennon snapped. The moonflower on the
bookcase behind Alexander was a thing of beauty. Alexander liked beauty.
He had said so, and the Great Hall below them bore it out. It was a
lovely room. Those four bronze Lani in the fountain were works of art.
One of them looked remarkably like Copper. Copper in bronze. The little
witch had probably posed for the casting. Maybe it had even been made
from her body.
“They’re all of Susy,” Alexander said. “I can see why you are angry, and
I don’t blame you. But remember I warned you about Lani.”
Copper--Kennon wrenched his thoughts back to the moonflower. It had
twelve petals, limpid white on the borders shading to deep blue in the
center-from which the cream-colored stamen surrounded by transparent
pistils sprang to burst into a golden glory of pollen that dripped
in tiny yellow flecks to the broad petals below. It was a magnificent
flower. There was nothing like it on Beta. That was a marvelous thing
about flowers--wherever one went in the universe, plants used the same
methods to fertilize their seed and spread their germ plasm. It was too
bad that--Kennon jerked his attention to Alexander’s face. He detested
the thought that his mind was common property. A man should have
something he can call his own. There had been a clinics instructor
in Year Six who was a sensitive. The classes had protected themselves
against his prying with a circlet--a thought screen--he had done it too.
Maybe he had brought the circlet with him. If he did, no one was going
to catch him without it. It was a dirty business, this reading of
others’ thought. Now where had he put that circlet? Was it among his old
books--or was it with his instruments?
“Why don’t you go back to your house and find it?” Alexander snapped.
“As you are, you’re nothing but a disruption. I want you in on this
meeting, but not the way you’re acting.”
“I’m not going to act any other way until I get some protection from
peeping,” Kennon said grimly. “And if you think this is bad wait till I
start going through comparative anatomy.”
“What’s the matter with you two?” Blalok asked.
“Be quiet,” Alexander snapped. “This isn’t your problem. Kennon is
behaving like a spoiled child!”
“He’s a telepath!” Kennon said. “And he didn’t tell me.”
“So what? I’ve known that for years.”
“And you stand for it?”
“I’m a Mystic, not a Betan,” Blalok said. “I don’t have your insane
desire for privacy.”
“Go find that thought screen if you still have it!” Alexander said. “I
don’t want any more of this. You’re making me ill!”
Kennon grinned thinly as he rose to his feet. It was a good thing he
remembered Alexander was squeamish and didn’t like anatomy. The door
was to his left, an iris door with eight leaves--terribly old-fashioned.
About ten steps away. Count them--one--two--three--
Alexander sighed as Kennon left the room. “I certainly pushed the panic
button on that young man,” he said. “He has a pathological attitude
toward telepathy. Wonder what he has to hide that he wants privacy so
badly? Even for a Betan this reaction was violent.”
“Oh, I don’t know. He’s a pretty emotional sort. Maybe he hates to look
like a fool. He’s gotten himself mixed up with one of the Lani. Cute
little thing by the name of Copper,” Blalok said.
“Oh--that’s it. I thought that was what he was hiding. A picture of
a girl kept popping up.” Alexander chuckled. “I suppose that’s the
trouble. A man hardly likes to look a fool, particularly to someone
who has warned him. At that, I don’t blame him. They are beautiful and
affectionate. And even with their superstitions and tabus they’re better
than most humans.”
“For pets,” Blalok said heavily.
“They’re not better at anything,” Jordan demurred. “They can’t be--man
is the best and always will be.”
“The eternal racial chauvinist,” Alexander murmured. He turned his
attention to Blalok. “But for awhile, Evald, I’d suggest you keep an
eye on our young man. I still don’t like his reaction. It was too
violent--too defensive. I don’t feel right about it. Perhaps Betans are
more sensitive than most people but it seems to me that he’s trying
to conceal something. There was an undertone of fear--and something
else--beneath his defenses.”
“Couldn’t you get any more than that?” Blalok asked. “You’re pretty good
at this mind-reading business.”
“His defenses were remarkably good,” Alexander said dryly.
* * *
Well he’d done it now, Kennon thought. He found the thought-screen
circlet sandwiched between two books on comparative neuroanatomy which
he hadn’t bothered to unpack. He slipped it on and connected the lead
wires to a portable battery pack. There was a half-forgotten tingling
as the weak field heterodyned his thought waves. Kennon sighed. If
Alexander wasn’t suspicious of him now the man was a fool. He’d done as
well as he could with confusion and outrage, but it was hardly possible
to hide behind superficialities. Even the most disciplined mind couldn’t
do that without some preparation. Undoubtedly his concern about Copper
had leaked through. He could only hope that other and more important
things had not.
Well--he could go back to the conference now, but he would have to be
doubly careful from now on. He couldn’t make daily trips to Olympus. His
reaction had killed that plan. Alexander would be suspicious now--and
unusual actions would crystallize suspicion to certainty. Now he needed
a reason to be in that area. And then he grinned. He had a reason--a
good one--one that would fit in with Alexander’s plans and his own.
The only problem would be to make Alexander buy it--and that might be
difficult. He’d have to work carefully--but with normal luck he could
put the idea across. He crossed his fingers as he trudged back up the
path to Alexandria.
The conference dragged on. Unlike most meetings, this one accomplished
things--which was a tribute to Alexander’s ability to keep the subject
in hand. Details of the expansion program presented by Alexander were
rapidly reduced to workable plans. They involved some rearrangement of
existing facilities, and the construction of others. But the obvious
snags were rapidly disposed of, and the whole revamped operation was
outlined on paper in surprisingly few hours. A deadline date was set,
construction was authorized, and in the morning the first steps in the
practical implementation of the new program would be taken.
“Well, that’s that,” Alexander said with a sigh. “I think this calls for
a drink.”
“There’s one more thing,” Kennon said. “I know it isn’t much, but
Jordan’s remark started me thinking.”
“What remark?” Jordan asked.
“The one you made at the beginning about Phoebe possibly being like the
Olympus Station. I’ve often wondered why that particular location has
been so difficult to operate. Sure, I know the accepted explanation,
but I think we should learn why it works and how to break a tabu. If we
don’t, we might be in for trouble.”
“That’s a good thought,” Alexander said. “I tried to find out once, but
all I could discover was that it was tabu. The Lani simply didn’t like
it. And despite the fact that I can read minds, I didn’t learn any more
than that. There’s a certain sex-linkage to telepathy, as you probably
know.”
Kennon nodded.
“All I could discover was that their dislike of Olympus was a basic
emotion rather than reasoned thought. They were nervous, irritable,
disobedient, and uncooperative while they were there--and even they
didn’t know why. It was merely tabu. We even tried youngsters--but the
attitude was the same. I’d like to know more about that basic emotion.”
“We should understand it,” Kennon agreed. “If we transship a large
number of Lani to a strange world, we should know their deepest
motivations. We cannot take the chance that the transplant won’t take,
with all the money you’re sinking into this project.”
“You have a point there. Have you any suggestions about how to
accomplish this?” 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. Observe them constantly. Put
spy cells in the units. Couple them to recorders. Prepare a set of test
situations and observe how each group performs. Question individuals
under narcosynthesis. Observe and record any changes in physical
condition--give them the works. Maybe we can collect some basic data
that will indicate the answer.”
“Not a bad idea,” Alexander said.
“I don’t like it,” Jordan said. “It sounds cumbersome.”
“It is,” Kennon agreed. “But it may save a great deal of trouble later.”
“I think you’re right, Kennon,” Blalok said. “We should know everything
we can.”
“What would you do first if you were heading this program?” Alexander
asked. He eyed Kennon critically.
“Nothing,” Kennon said promptly. “I’m not qualified to run an
investigation like this. You need a specialist. I am a practitioner.”
“Hmm--but you know experimental procedure.”
“Naturally--but I do not have the training to prepare a program or
evaluate its results. The only thing I could do would be to check the
physical condition of the experimental groups.”
“Could you set up the physical facilities?” Alexander asked.
“Possibly--I’d need a set of plans of the station, and I couldn’t
guarantee that the specialist wouldn’t want to make changes. But the
physical arrangements should be simple enough to construct.”
“How long would it take you to prepare a plan?”
“I could have it by tomorrow, or perhaps a day later.”
“If you can do it by then I’ll stay over. I’d like to examine this
proposal more closely. It has merit. That’s the second constructive
suggestion you’ve made tonight. Despite your peculiar desire for
privacy, I’m glad you came back.” Alexander smiled.
Kennon smiled back. Apparently the entrepreneur had taken the bait.
But it was too early to tell whether he had swallowed it without
reservation. It all depended upon how much had been given away before
he had discovered that Alexander was a telepath. Perhaps Alexander was
merely leading him on. There were too many intangibles, and there was no
way of predicting how it would turn out. But he felt mildly optimistic.
Alexander closed the meeting, and Kennon left promptly. He had a good
excuse. There was plenty of work to do if he was going to prepare an
adequate plan for utilizing Olympus Station. Jordan went with him,
but Blalok stayed behind. It was natural enough. Blalok was the
administrator, but Kennon felt uneasy. Nor would he have felt any better
if he could have heard what went on after he left.
Alexander looked quizzically at Blalok after the door closed behind the
two men.
“Well, Evald, what do you think? Does it strike you that Kennon’s
sincere--or does it sound as though he has something up his sleeve?”
“If he does,” Blalok said, “I don’t know what it could be. I wouldn’t
take a job on Olympus if you gave it to me.”
“If he doesn’t know about the place,” Alexander said thoughtfully, “it’s
probable that his suggestion was honest. I think it is but I’m not sure.
He worries me now that I can’t read him. I think I’ll send Douglas back
here to watch him.”
“Why? In my book that’d be a poor choice. After all, you said Kennon
saved his life. He should be grateful.”
“You don’t know Douglas,” Alexander said. “He hates Kennon’s guts for
what he did.”
“What did he do?”
“He made Douglas feel inferior. And there’s no surer way to gain my
cousin’s undying enmity.” Alexander laughed. “I know,” he said. “He’d
like to kill me, too.”
Blalok shrugged.
“But in the meantime I want you to keep an eye on Kennon. If his outline
is all right, I’m going to authorize him to set up this experiment. I
want to give him every possible chance. I like him--and he’s done good
work. I wouldn’t want him to feel that I distrust him.”
“Which you do, of course,” Blalok said dryly.
Alexander smiled. “Actually,” he said with equal dryness, “I distrust
everyone.”