Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Lani People by Jesse F. Bone (best fiction books to read .txt) 📖
- Author: Jesse F. Bone
Book online «The Lani People by Jesse F. Bone (best fiction books to read .txt) 📖». Author Jesse F. Bone
“Oh, for Ochsner’s sake! Do you think that I’m—” He paused, speechless. “Just what do you think I am?”
“You’re a man. And that’s the trouble.”
Kennon chuckled. “So that’s it! You don’t trust me.”
“I love you,” Copper said.
“Sometimes I wonder why men ever finalize their status with women,” Kennon murmured. “It does no good. It doesn’t convince the woman. She’s still fearful, jealous, and suspicious—always belittling her ability to hold what she has, always alert for competition, clinging, holding, absorbing—when she should be working as part of a team.”
“That’s not true!”
“Then prove it.”
“How—by staying here while you go to the end of the galaxy and play noble?”
“I’m only doing what I have to do.”
“And so am I—and if you go I’m going with you.”
Kennon shrugged. There was no sense arguing. The only thing to do was make his plans and leave quietly. If she was faced with an established fact, she might be more reasonable. He doubted it, but alone, she could do nothing—and Brainard would see that she was comfortable. The salvage money from the Egg would keep her from being a public charge. And he had more banked in Albertsville which he could send her once he got there. He’d start making plans to leave as soon as possible.
Copper looked up at him as he stood above her bed. Slowly she reached out and placed one slim hand in his. “I know what you are thinking,” she said, “and—” her face twisted in a grimace of pain, and the hand in his clutched with convulsive strength at his fingers.
“What’s the matter?” he said.
“Nothing—it’s perfectly normal,” she said. “I’m just going to give you a son. Now if you’d call for the doctor, perhaps we can get this over. That pain was only twenty minutes from the last. I think it’s about time.”
Kennon—who had attended several hundred Lani births and had developed a certain callousness about them—was suddenly frightened and helpless as he pushed the call button. He could feel the cold sweat form on his forehead. He had started this. It was his fault if anything went wrong. He wished that it was someone else rather than Copper who was going through this trial. He was nervous, unsure, and guilty. In a word, he felt like a man whose mate was giving birth to their first child.
* * *
“It’s a boy,” Dr. Brainard said. He smiled down at Kennon’s haggard face.
“How is Copper?” Kennon asked.
“Fine—she’s healthy as a horse.”
Kennon winced at the cliche It was so ancient that it had lost all meaning. Most Betans didn’t know what a horse was, let alone whether it was healthy or not. From what Kennon could remember of veterinary history, the horse wasn’t too healthy an animal. It was rather delicate, in fact.
“How is the child?” Kennon asked. It took a little courage to ask this question. The baby could be anything from normal to a monstrosity.
“Perfectly normal,” Brainard said. “A true Betan type even down to the vestigial tail. We amputated that, of course.”
“Thank Ochsner!” Kennon breathed. “I was afraid.”
“Of course you were,” Brainard said. “Do you want to see them now? When I left, Copper was asking for you.”
Kennon sighed. Leaving, he realized, wasn’t going to be as easy as he had thought.
“We’ll have to keep them here for a couple of months,” Brainard said. “We must take exhaustive tests if we expect the court to reverse its prior decision.”
“I expected that,” Kennon said. He shrugged, “It’s probably best,” he said. “Now show me where Copper is.”
“She’s back in the same room. You don’t need a guide.”
Kennon didn’t. In fact, he behaved quite admirably.
CHAPTER XX
Longliners, Kennon reflected, didn’t make Beta a port of call, and the Shortliner connections with other worlds were infrequent. Beta had done a good job separating from the rest of the Brotherhood. Too good. The spaceline schedules showed only one departure in the next month, a Shortliner for Earth, and from Earth the road to Kardon was long and tortuous, involving a series of short jumps from world to world and a final medium-range hop from Halsey to Kardon. If everything went right and he made every connection he would be in Kardon four months after he left Beta. Kennon sighed as he left Travelers Aid. Morality was a heavy load to carry.
He walked slowly down the road from the spaceport toward the Co-operative where he had been staying. He had left Huntersville and Copper a week ago, after he had seen his child. His child! The thought of being a father was oddly dismaying. It distorted his sense of values. But one thing was certain. He was returning to Kardon, and Copper was not coming with him. She had a duty to their son—and he had a duty to his contract with Alexander, to the Lani on Flora, and to Copper—and none of these could be satisfied by further running. He had to return and settle the account.
A tall man in a conservative yellow-and-black suit was waiting patiently in front of his room. “My name is Richter,” he said “—Art Richter. Are you Dr. Jac Kennon?”
“I could deny it, but I won’t,” Kennon said.
“Thank you, Doctor. It was just a formality anyway. You see, I know you by sight.” He sighed. “One has to observe the formalities in this business.” He drew a long white envelope from his tunic and handed it to Kennon. “Most of my subjects try to deny their identity,” he said.
“It’s a refreshing change to find an honest man.” He bowed formally. “I really thought this would be harder, considering the charges against you.” He bowed again and walked away.
“Now—what was that?” Kennon muttered as he opened the envelope. The man Richter was undoubtedly a process server—but who had hired him? He unfolded the sheet and scanned the charges—coercion, larceny, livestock theft, and breach of contract. He shrugged. This was Alexander’s work. What was the man thinking of? It was insanity to bring the Lani matter into open court. Hadn’t Douglas told him what had happened? Couldn’t Alexander guess that he had fled with Copper for a good reason—one that would stand up in court? Didn’t he know about the spacer? Or had Douglas turned on his cousin? The pup had so many hates that it was possible. He was a natural troublemaker. Maybe Alexander didn’t know. Maybe he was working
Comments (0)