Free Midworld by Alan Dean Foster Page A

enough extract to double the life-span of anywhere from two to three hundred people—not to mention what it will do for general health and well-being. No price has been put on the drug yet since it hasn’t been exported except in small, experimental doses. The proteins have proven complex beyond belief. Synthetic production appears out of the question. Dissection may offer clues as to further lines of research.” He looked up. “What would you pay for it, Nearchose?”
    “Who, me?” The security guard smiled a crooked smile, showing metal teeth, which had replaced ones that had not been lost naturally. “I’ll die when my natural time comes, Doc. A man like me … I couldn’t ever afford the stuff. I’d give or do anything for it, of course, if I thought I could get away with it.”
    Tsing-ahn nodded, “Far wealthier men will do likewise.” He winked. “Maybe I’ll slip you a vial of the next batch. How would that appeal to you, Nearchose?”
    The guard’s genial manner faded. He looked solemnly down at his friend, whom he could break with one hand. “Don’t tease me like that, Doc. It’s not funny. To live a couple of hundred years in good health, instead of decomposing into pieces at seventy, maybe eighty … Don’t tease me with stuff like that.”
    “Sorry, Nick. It’s a defense mechanism with me. I’ve got my own hurts, you know. It’s small and mean, but I fight back in these ways.”
    Nearchose nodded. He knew of the biochemist’s addiction, of course. Everyone at the station did. The brilliant researcher Tsing-ahn was deficient in body, though he was not crippled or broken. Nearchose was deficient in mind, though he was neither stupid nor ignorant. Each recognized his superiority over others of his own kind at the station, so the friendship that sprung up between them was one between equals.
    “I’ve got outside patrol this shift,” Nearchose announced, turning to leave. “I was just curious to see how everything’s going, that’s all.”
    “Surely, Nick. Come in anytime.”
    After the big man had left for his patrol duty, Tsing-ahn set up his instruments for the first full dissection of the invaluable burl. The operation could be put off no longer, despite the fact that this was the only burl of its kind found so far. Others would be located by the scout teams, he was certain. It was merely a question of time.
    When extract from the burl’s center was given casually to an experimental carew, the results were unexpected, astonishing, overwhelming. Instead of two days, the hyperactive mammal had lived for nearly a week. He had repeated the experiment twice, not believing his own results. When they were confirmed the third time, he had announced his discovery to Hansen, the station director. The reaction of those funding the project had been predictable: More burls must be found. But exploring by skimmer was erratic and difficult. Land parties had been sent out, but they had been discontinued by Hansen despite complaints from above. Too many parties, no matter how heavily armed, had failed to return.
    Tsing-ahn was still fascinated by the fact that this unhealthy protrusion of the tree might prove more useful than the tree itself. He thought of ancient Terran whales and ambergris. He was extremely anxious to study the internal structure of the burl. It had a softish center, according to long probes, quite unlike most burls, which were solid hardwood. And there was other evidence of a unique inner construction.
    He worked at the dissection for several days, sawing and probing and cutting open. At the end of that time, a most unnatural and horrible scream shattered the peace of the station and sent people running from their posts to the laboratory of Wu Tsing-ahn.
    Nearchose was the first one there. This time he didn’t ask permission to enter, but wrenched the door open, breaking the bolt. To his enormous surprise, Tsing-ahn stood facing him and looked up at him calmly. One hand was