“There’s another reason--two of them in fact. One is physical. Even the best male is a dangerous beast. They have a flair for violence that makes them useless as labor and their training doesn’t help matters. And the other is mental. The females on the main island believe that we humans are responsible for the continuation of their breed. This tends to keep them in line. We have a great deal more trouble with them out here once they know the truth. We’ve had a number of cases of females trying to engineer a male’s escape. But they’re never repeated,” Mullins said grimly. “Actually, it would be an interesting life out here, except for the abattoir.” He grimaced. “That’s an unpleasant chore.” “You mean--” Kennon said. “Why, certainly. What else could we do with senile animals?” “But that’s murder!” Mullins shook his head. “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. I’ve spent two hundred years with them and I know what I’m talking about.” “That’s what Alexander says.” “He should know. He’s lived with them all his life.” “Well--perhaps. But I’m not convinced.” “Neither was Old Doc--not until the day he died.” “Did he change then?” “I don’t know. I wasn’t there. But Old Doc was a stubborn cuss.” Kennon stood up. “I’ve given instructions for treatment to your corpsman,” he said. “Now I think I’d better be getting back. I have some reports to finish.” Mullins smiled grimly. “You know,” he said, “I get the feeling that you don’t approve of this operation.” “Frankly, I don’t,” Kennon said, “but I signed a contract.” He turned toward the door and gestured to the two Lani who waited outside with his bags. “I can find my way to the roof,” he said. “Well--good luck,” Mullins said. “We’ll call you again if we need you.” “Do that,” Kennon replied. He wanted to leave, to get away from this place and back to the main island. He wanted to see Copper. He’d be damned if anyone was going to butcher her. If he had to stay here until she died of old age, he’d do it. But nobody was going to hurt her. CHAPTER XII Kennon wondered if his colleagues in human medicine felt toward their patients as he did toward the Lani, or if they ultimately lost their individuality and became mere hosts for diseases, parasites, and tumors--vehicles for the practice of surgical and medical skills--economic units whose well-being meant a certain amount of credits. Probably not, he decided. They were human and their very humanity made them persons rather than things.