Get a smock and let's go," he said. "No--wait a minute."

"Yes, sir?"

"What's your name? I don't want to say 'Hey you!'"

She smiled. "It's Copper Glow--want my pedigree too?"

"No--it wouldn't mean anything to me. Do they call you Copper or Glow?
or both?"

"Just Copper, sir."

"Very well, Copper--let's get going."

* * *

The body of the dead Lani lay on the steel table, waxy and yellowish in
the pitiless light of the fluorescents. She had been hardly more than a
child. Kennon felt a twinge of pity--so young--so young to die. And as
he looked he was conscious of another feeling.

It had been an open secret among his classmates that he had refused
an offer to study human medicine because of his aversion to dissecting
cadavers. The sarcoplastic models were all right, but when it came to
flesh, Kennon didn't have the stomach for it. And now, the sight of the
dead humanoid brought back the same cold sweat and gut-wrenching nausea
that had caused him to turn to veterinary medicine eight years ago.

He fought the spasms back as he approached the table and made the
external examination. Icterus and a swollen abdomen--the rest was
essentially normal. And he knew with cold certainty that he could not
lay a scalpel edge upon that cold flesh. It was too human, too like his
own.

"Are you ready, Doctor?" the Lani standing across the table from him
asked. "Shall I expose the viscera?"

Kennon's stomach froze. Of course! He should have realized! No
pathologist did his own dissection. He examined. And that he could do.
It was the tactile, not the visual sensations that upset him. He nodded.
"The abdominal viscera first," he said.

The Lani laid back the skin and musculature with bold, sure strokes.
An excellent prosectress, Kennon thought. Kennon pointed at the swollen
liver and the Lani deftly severed its attachments and laid the organ
out for inspection. The cause of death was obvious. The youngster had
succumbed to a massive liver-fluke infestation. It was the worst he
had ever seen. The bile ducts were thick, calcified and choked with
literally thousands of the gray-green leaf-shaped trematodes.

"Let's look at the others," he said.

Two more post-mortems confirmed the diagnosis. Except for minor
differences, the lesions were identical. He removed a few of the flukes
and set them aside for further study.

"Well that's that," he said. "You can clean up now."

He had found the criminal, and now the problem a