Kennon shrugged. “It’s your baby. You should know what you’re doing.”
“I do,” Douglas said confidently. “Wait here until I get the gas capsules and the equipment.” He turned and walked back to the entrance to the cell block. At the iris he turned. “Be careful,” he said.
“Don’t worry, I will.” Kennon looked at George through the bars and the humanoid glared back, his eyes bright with hatred. Kennon felt the short hairs prickle along the back of his neck. George roused a primal emotion—an elemental dislike that was deeper than reason—an antagonism intensely physical, almost overpowering—a purely adrenal response that had no business in the make-up of a civilized human.
He had thought the Lani had a number of human traits until he had encountered George. But if George was a typical male—then the Lani were alien. He flexed his muscles and stared coldly into the burning blue eyes behind the bars. There would be considerable satisfaction in beating this monstrosity to a quivering pulp. Millennia of human pre-eminence—of belief that nothing, no matter how big or muscular, should fail to recognize that a man’s person was inviolate—fed the fuel of his anger. The most ferocious beasts on ten thousand worlds had learned this lesson. And yet this animal had laid hands on him with intent to kill. A cold corner of his mind kept telling him that he wasn’t behaving rationally, but he disregarded it. George was a walking need for a lesson in manners.
“Don’t get the idea that I’m afraid of you—you overmuscled oaf,” Kennon snapped. “I can handle you or anyone like you. And if you put your hands on me again I’ll beat you within an inch of your worthless life.”
The Lani snarled. “Let me out and I kill you. But you are like all men. You use gun and iron—not fair fight.”
Douglas returned with a gas capsule and a set of shackles. “All right,” he said. “We’re ready for him.” He handed Kennon the shackles and a key to the cell door—and drew his Burkholtz.
“See,” the Lani growled. “It is as I say. Men are cowards.”
“You know gun?” Douglas asked as he pointed the muzzle of the Burkholtz at the Lani.
“I know,” George growled. “Gun kill.”