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“You’re an Earthman, eh?” Kennon asked as he grasped the outstretched hand. The gesture was as old as man, its ritualistic meaning lost in antiquity.

“No—Marsborn—a neighbor world,” Jordan said. “But our customs and Earth’s are the same.”

“You’re a long way from home,” Kennon said.

“No farther than you, Doc.” Jordan looked uncomfortable. “But we can compare origins later. Right now, you’d better come into the office. I’ve run across something peculiar.”





CHAPTER IX

“There are twelve bays to this station,” Jordan said. “Under our present setup two are used for breeding and the other ten for maturation. We rotate the youngsters around the bay—a different bay each year until they’re age eleven. Then they’re sorted according to type and sent out for a year of further specialized training after which they go onto the farms, or to inhouse or export.

“Now here’s the peculiar part. There’s no trouble in Bays One through Nine, but Bay Ten has had all our losses except two that have occurred at the training stations.”

“That’s good news,” Kennon said. “Our parasite can’t have had time to migrate too far. We have him pinpointed unless—say how many training centers are there?”

“Three,” Jordan said.

“Quarantine them,” Kennon replied. “Right now. Nothing goes in or out until we’ve checked them and completed prophylaxis.”

Jordan looked at Blalok inquiringly.

“He’s the boss,” Blalok said. “Do as you’re told. This is his problem.”

“Why the quarantine?” Jordan asked.

“I want to get any carriers. We can check them with antigen, and then give Trematox.”

“All that concentration in Bay Ten,” Jordan said. “Does it mean something?”

“Blalok said that there was a Santosian in your division.”

“Yeah—Joe Kryla—and come to think of it, he ran Bay Ten!”

“That’s a help—now let’s see what makes that bay different from the others.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you—but you may not understand,” Kennon said.

“I’ll take a chance.”

Kennon grinned. “All right, you asked for it. The parasite that’s doing the damage is a flatworm, a trematode called Hepatodirus hominis. As I’ve told Blalok, it’s a tricky thing. Like all trematodes it has a three-stage life cycle, but unlike every other fluke, its life cycle is not fixed to definite intermediate hosts. Depending upon where it is, the fluke adapts. It still must pass through its life cycle, but its intermediate host need not be one species of snail, fish, or copepod. Any cold-blooded host will do. What you have here is a Kardonian variant which has adapted to some particular intermediate host on this world. Until now, its final host was either man or Varl. Now we have a third, the Lani. And apparently they are the most susceptible of the three. It never kills Varl. And humans, while they’re more susceptible, only occasionally succumb, but the Lani appear to be the most susceptible of all. I’ve never seen an infestation like those Lani had. Their livers were literally crawling with flukes.” Kennon paused and looked at Jordan. “You following me?” he asked.

“Slowly and poorly,” Jordan said. “You’re assuming too much knowledge on my part.”

Kennon chuckled. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Well—I’m really interested in only one thing—how do you break the parasite up in business?”

“There’s only one sure way—and that’s to break the life cycle. The technique is thousands of years old, but it’s just as good today as it was then.”

“Good—then let’s do it.”

“To make a varrit stew,” Kennon said, “one must first catch the varrit.”

“Huh?”

“We have to learn the beastie’s life cycle before we can break it, and like I said, it adapts. Its intermediate host can be any one of a hundred cold-blooded animals.”

“Is there no place else where it can be attacked?”

“Sure, in the body of the final host, or on its final encysting place. But that won’t eliminate the bug.”

“Why not?”

“It’ll still survive in its infective form and enough Lani will get subacute dosage to propagate it until the time is right for another epizootic. We have to kill its intermediate host—or hosts if it has more than one. That will keep it from growing and will ultimately eradicate it.”

Judson scratched his head. “It sounds complicated.”

“It is. It’s so complicated that once the fluke becomes well established it’s virtually impossible to eradicate.”

“And you think it can be done here?”

“We can give it the old college try. But it’s going to take some detective work.”

“Where do we start?”

“With Bay Ten. We look it over real well. Then we check the diet and habits of the Lani. Then we check each individual Lani. Then we check the life cycle of the parasite. Somewhere along the line if we’re lucky we’ll find a weak point that can be attacked.”

“That’s a big order,” Blalok said.

“It can’t be helped. That’s the way it is. Of course, we’re lucky that we’re on an isolated land mass. That gives us an advantage. We should be able to clean this up.”

“How long do you think it will take?”

“It depends on how well the fluke is established. Six months at the minimum—and I wouldn’t care to guess at the maximum. However, I hope the minimum will be time enough.”

“So do I,” Blalok said.

“Well,” Kennon said, “let’s get on with it.”

“I hope it won’t interrupt our program,” Jordan said.

“Of course it will interrupt it,” Kennon replied. “It can’t help it. Get the idea in your head that you’re facing something here that can cripple you—maybe abort your whole operation. You have a choice—interrupt now or abort later. And half measures won’t work. To eradicate this pest requires an all-out effort.”

“But I can’t see why we can’t merely bypass Bay Ten—” Jordan said.

“Take my word for it,” Kennon said. “You can’t. There’s no accurate way of telling how far this spreads until the death losses occur. Our tests for

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