"I've wondered about that."

"You'll find a lot more peculiar things about Flora when you get to know her better. This year has just been a breaking-in period."

Kennon chuckled. "It's d.a.m.n near broken me," he admitted. "You know, I thought that the Lani'd be my princ.i.p.al practice when I came here."

"You didn't figure that right. They're the easiest part. They're intelligent and co-operative."

"Which is more than one can say about the others." Kennon wiped the sweat from his face. "What with this infernal heat and their eternal stubbornness, I've nearly been driven crazy."

"You shouldn't have laid out that vaccination program."

"I had to. Your hog business was living mostly on luck, and the sheep and shrakes were almost as bad. You can't get away from soil saprophytes no matter how clean you are. Under a pasture setup there's always a chance of contamination. And that old cliche about an ounce of prevention is truer of livestock raising than anything else I can think of."

"I have some more good news for you," Blalok said. "That's why I came over. We're going to have another species to treat and vaccinate."

Kennon groaned. "Now what?"

"Poultry." Blalok's voice was disgusted. "Personally I think it's a mess, but Alexander thinks it's profitable. Someone's told him that pound for pound chickens are the most efficient feed converters of all the domestic animals. So we're getting a pilot plant: eggs, incubator, and a knocked-down broiler battery so we can try the idea out.

The Boss-man is always hot on new ideas to increase efficiency and production. The only trouble is that he fails to consider the work involved in setting up another operation."

"You're so right. I'll have to brush up on pullorum, ornithosis, coccidosis, leukosis, perosis, and Ochsner knows how many other-osises and--itises. I was never too strong on fowl practice in school, and I'd be happier if I never had anything to do with them."

"So would I," Blalok agreed. "I can't see anything in this but trouble."

Kennon nodded.

"And he's forgotten something else," Blalok added. "Poultry need concentrated feed. We're going to have to install a feed mill."

Kennon chuckled. "I hope he'll appreciate the bill he gets."

"He thinks we can use local labor," Blalok said gloomily. "I wish he'd realize that Lani are technological morons."

"They could learn."

"I suppose so--but it isn't easy. And besides, Allworth is the only man with feed-mill experience, and he's up to his ears with Hillside Station since that expansion order came in."

"I never did get the reason for that. After we complained about the slavery implications and got the Boss-man's okay to hold the line, why do we need more Lani?"

"Didn't you know? His sister's finally decided to try marriage. Found herself some overmuscled Halsite who looked good to her--but she couldn't crack his moral barrier." Blalok grinned. "I thought you'd be the first to know. Wasn't she interested in you?"

Kennon chuckled. "You could call it that. Interested--like the way a dog's interested in a beefsteak. It's a good thing we had that fluke problem or I'd have been chewed up and digested long ago. That woman frightens me."

"I could be scared by uglier things," Blalok said. "With the Boss-man's sister on my side I wouldn't worry."

"What makes you think she'd be on my side? She's a cannibal."

"Well, you know her better than I do."

He did--he certainly did. That first month had been one of the worst he had ever spent, Kennon reflected. Between Eloise and the flukes, he had nearly collapsed--and when it had come to the final showdown, he thought for a while that he'd be looking for another job. But Alexander had been more than pa.s.sably understanding and had refused his sister's pa.s.sionate pleas for a Betan scalp. He owed a debt of grat.i.tude to the Boss-man.

"You're lucky you never knew her," Kennon said.

"That all depends on what you mean," Blalok said as he grinned and walked to the door. The parting shot missed its mark entirely as Kennon looked at him with blank incomprehension. "You should have been a Mystic," Blalok said. "A knowledge of the sacred books would do you no end of good." And with that cryptic remark the superintendent vanished.

"That had all the elements of a snide remark," Kennon murmured to himself, "but my education's been neglected somewhere along the line. I don't get it." He shrugged and buzzed for Copper. The veterinary report would have to be added to the pile already before him, and the Boss-man liked to have his reports on time.

Copper watched Kennon as he dictated the covering letter, her slim fingers dancing over the stenotype. He had been here a full year--but instead of becoming a familiar object, he had grown so gigantic that he filled her world. And it wasn't merely because he was young and beautiful. He was kind, too.

Yet she couldn't approach him, and she wanted to so desperately that it was a physical pain. Other Lani had told her about men and what they could do. Even her old preceptress at Hillside Station had given her some advice when Man Allworth had tattooed the tiny V on her thigh that meant she had been selected for the veterinary staff. And when Old Doc had brought her from the Training Station to the hospital and removed her tail, she was certain that she was one of the lucky ones who would know love.

But love wasn't a pain in the chest, an ache in the belly and thighs, an unfulfilled longing that destroyed sleep and made food tasteless. Love was supposed to be pleasant and exciting. She could remember every word her preceptress had spoken.

"My little one," the old Lani had said, "you now wear the doctor's mark.

And soon no one will be able to tell you from a human. You will look like our masters. You will share in their work. And there may be times when you will find favor in their eyes. Then you may learn of love.

"Love," the old voice was soft in Copper's ears. "The word is almost a stranger to us now, known only to the few who serve our masters. It was not always so. The Old Ones knew love before Man Alexander came. And our young were the fruit of love rather than the product of our masters'

cunning. But you may know the flower even though you cannot bear its fruit. You may enter that world of pleasure-pain the Old Ones knew, that world which is now denied us.

"But remember always that you are a Lani. A man may be kind to you. He may treat you gently. He may show you love. Yet you never will be his equal. Nor must you become too attached to him, for you are not human.

You are not his natural mate. You cannot bear his young. You cannot completely share. You can only accept.

"So if love should come to you, take it and enjoy it, but do not try to possess it. For there lies heartache rather than happiness. And it is a world of heartache, my little one, to long for something which you cannot have."

To long for something which one cannot have! Copper knew that feeling.

It had been with her ever since Kennon had come into her life that night a year ago. And it had grown until it had become gigantic. He was kind--yes. He was harsh--occasionally. Yet he had shown her no more affection than he would have shown a dog. Less--for he would have petted a dog and he did not touch her.

He laughed, but she was not a part of his laughter. He needed her, but the need was that of a builder for a tool. He liked her and sometimes shared his problems and triumphs with her, and sometimes his defeats, but he did not love. There had never been for her the bright fierce look he had bent upon the Woman Eloise those times when she had come to him, the look men gave to those who found favor in their eyes.

Had he looked at her but once with that expression she would have come to him though fire barred the way. The Woman Eloise was a fool.

Copper looked at him across the corner of the desk, the yellow hair, the bronze skin, firm chin, soft lips and long straight nose, the narrowed eyes, hooded beneath thick brows, scanning the papers in his lean-tendoned hands. His nearness was an ache in her body--yet he was far away.

She thought of how his hands would feel upon her. He had touched her once, and that touch had burned like hot iron. For hours she had felt it. He looked up. Her heart choked her with its beating. She would die for him if he would but once run his fingers over her tingling skin, and stroke her hair.

The naked emotion in Copper's face was readable enough, Kennon thought.

One didn't need Sorovkin techniques to interpret what was in her mind.

And it would have been amusing if it weren't so sad. For what she wanted, he couldn't give. Yet if she were human it would be easy. A hundred generations of Betan moral code said "never," yet when he looked at her their voices faded. He was a man--a member of the ruling race.

She was an animal--a beast--a humanoid--near human but not near enough.

To like her was easy--but to love her was impossible. It would be b.e.s.t.i.a.lity. Yet his body, less discerning than his mind, responded to her nearness.

He sighed. It was a pleasant unpleasantness, a mixed emotion he could not a.n.a.lyze. In a way it was poetry--the fierce, vaguely disquieting poetry of the sensual Santosian bards--the lyrics that sung of the joys of flesh. He had never really liked them, yet they filled him with a vague longing, an odd uneasiness--just the sort that filled him now.

There was a deadly parallel here. He sighed.

"Yes, sir? Do you want something?" Copper asked.

"I could use a cup of coffee," he said. "These reports are getting me down." The ba.n.a.lity amused him--sitting here thinking of Copper and talking about coffee. Ba.n.a.lity was at once the curse and the saving grace of mankind. It kept men from the emotional peaks and valleys that could destroy them. He chuckled shakily. The only alternative would be to get rid of her--and he couldn't (or wouldn't?--the question intruded slyly) do that.

Copper returned with a steaming cup which she set before him. Truly, this coffee was a man's drink. She had tried it once but the hot bitterness scalded her mouth and flooded her body with its heat. And she had felt so lightheaded. Not like herself at all. It wasn't a drink for Lani. Of that she was certain.