uldn'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 passably understanding and had refused his sister's passionate
pleas for a Betan scalp. He owed a debt of gratitude 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. Y