The Lani People | Page 3

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The Lani People
by J. F. Bone

CHAPTER I
The boxed ad in the opportunities section of the Kardon Journal of Allied Medical
Sciences stood out like a cut diamond in a handful of gravel. "Wanted," it read,
"Veterinarian - for residency in active livestock operation. Single recent graduate
preferred. Quarters and service furnished. Well-equipped hospital. Five-year contract,
renewal option, starting salary 15,000 cr./annum with periodic increases. State age,
school, marital status, and enclose recent tri-di with application. Address Box V-9, this
journal."
Jac Kennon read the box a second time. There must be a catch to it. Nothing that paid a
salary that large could possibly be on the level. Fifteen thousand a year was top pay even
on Beta, and an offer like this for a new graduate was unheard of - unless Kardon was in
the middle of an inflation. But Kardon wasn't. The planet's financial status was A-1. He
knew. He'd checked that immediately after landing. Whatever might be wrong with
Kardon, it wasn't her currency. The rate of exchange was 1.2-1 Betan.
A five-year contract - hmm - that would the seventy-five thousand. Figure three thousand
a year for living expenses, that would leave sixty-plenty of capital to start a clinic. The
banks couldn't turn him down if he had that much cash collateral.
Kennon chuckled wryly. He'd better get the job before he started spending the money he
didn't have. He had 231 credits plus a few halves, tenths, and hundredths, a diploma in
veterinary medicine, some textbooks, a few instruments, and a first-class spaceman's
ticket. By watching his expenses he had enough money to live here for a month and if
nothing came of his efforts to find a job on this planet, there was always his spaceman's
ticket and another world.
Another world! There were over six thousand planets in the Brotherhood of Man. At two
months per planet, not figuring transit time, it would take more than a thousand Galactic
Standard years to visit them all, and a man could look forward to scarcely more than five
hundred at best. The habitat of Man had become too large. There wasn't time to explore
every possibility.
But a man could have certain standards, and look until he found a position that fitted. The
trouble was - if the standards were too high the jobs were too scarce. Despite the chronic
shortage of veterinarians throughout the Brotherhood, there was a peculiar reluctance on
the part of established practitioners to welcome recent graduates. Most of the ads in the
professional journals read "State salary desired," which was nothing more than economic
blackmail - a bald-faced attempt to get as much for as little as possible. Kennon grimaced
wryly. He'd be