“I can tell you,” Kennon said. “You’ve just graduated.” “How did you know?” Smalley said. “I was a graduate once, myself--not too long ago.” “How long, sir?” “Class of Eighty-seven.” “That’s twelve years ago,” Smalley said. Kennon nodded. Ten years lost. Not bad--not bad at all. But Alexander could have done a lot in ten years. “I meant no disrespect,” Smalley said worriedly. “I know it. But if you intend to practice on Beta, you’d better polish your professional manner. Now where I was, it didn’t make much difference. Laymen often called me ‘Doc.’” Smalley was properly shocked. “I hope you didn’t encourage them, sir.” “It was impossible to discourage them,” Kennon said. “After all, when the man who hires you--” “Oh--entrepreneurs,” Smalley said in a tone that explained everything. * * * The car stopped in front of the Medical Center’s staff entrance. “This way, sir,” Smalley said. He led the way down a green-tiled corridor to an elevator--then down another corridor past a pair of soft-footed nurses who eyed them curiously--looking at Kennon’s tunic and sandals with mild disapproval in their eyes. Smalley stopped and knocked softly on a closed door. “Enter,” said a pleasant baritone voice from the annunciator. “Dr. Brainard--Dr. Kennon,” Smalley said. 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-fashioned spacers,” 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?”