“Electrodiaphoresis?”
Douglas nodded. “That sounds like it. I don’t know anything about it. One of Grandfather’s men did the basic work. We just follow instructions.” He shrugged. “Well—since you know the secret there’s no sense in hiding the bodies. Come along and tell me what’s wrong.”
It was a peculiar feeling to walk down the row of cubical rooms with their barred doors. The whole area reminded him of a historical novel, of the prisons of early human history where men confined other men for infractions of social customs. The grimness of the place was appalling. The male Lani—impressive in their physical development—were in miserable condition, nauseated, green-faced, retching. The sickening odors of vomit and diarrhea hung heavily on the air. Douglas coughed and held a square of cloth to his face, and even Kennon, strong-stomached as he was, could feel his viscera twitch in sympathy with the caged sufferers.
“Great Fleming, man!” Kennon exploded. “You can’t keep them here. Get them out! Give them some fresh air! This place would make a well man sick.”
Douglas looked at him, “I wouldn’t take one of them out unless I had him shackled and there was an armed guard to help me. Those males are the most vicious, cunning, and dangerous animals on Kardon. They exist with but one thought in mind—to kill!”
Kennon looked curiously through a barred door at one of the Lani. He lay on a bare cot, a magnificently muscled figure with a ragged black beard hiding his face. There were dozens of scars on his body and one angry purple area on his thick right forearm where flesh had been torn away not too long ago. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and soft moaning noises came from his tight lips as he pressed his abdomen with thick-fingered hands. “He doesn’t look so dangerous,” Kennon said.
“Watch it!” Douglas warned. “Don’t get too close!” But the warning was too late. Kennon touched the bars, and as he did, the Lani moved with fluid speed, one huge hand clutching Kennon’s sleeve and pulling him against the bars while the other darted for his throat. Fingers bit into Kennon’s neck and tightened in a viselike grip. Kennon reacted automatically. His arms came up inside the Lani’s and crashed down, elbows out, tearing the Lani loose. He jumped back, rubbing his bruised throat. “That fellow’s not sick!” he gasped. “He’s crazy!”
The Lani glared at him through the bars, disappointment written on his scarred and bearded face.
“I warned you,” Douglas said. His voice held an undertone of malicious laughter. “He must be sick or he would have killed you. George is clever in a stupid sort of way.”
Kennon looked into the cubicle. The Lani glared back and growled. There was a beastlike note in his voice that made the short hairs on Kennon’s neck prickle.