Ole Doc Methuselah by L. Ron Hubbard Page B

caged lion and his hair massed over his eyes. He was a huge
brute of a man, with strength and decision in every inch of him. It had taken such
a man to create all that Dorab had become.
    â€œI
am Arlington,” he said, leaping up from his bed where, a moment before, he had
been asleep. “I see you are a Soldier of Light. I will pay any fee. This is
disaster! And after all I have done! Thank God you people got my wire. Now, get
to work.”
    â€œJust
a moment,” smiled Ole Doc. “I am a Soldier of Light, yes. But we take no fees.
I make no promises about ridding you of any plague which might be on you. I am
here to investigate, as a matter of medical interest, any condition you might
have.”
    â€œNonsense!
Every man owes a debt to humanity. You see here the entire human population of
Dorab dying. You have to do something. I will make it well worth your while.
And I am not to be deluded that there lives a man without a price.
    â€œDorab,
Doctor, is worth some fifteen trillion dollars. Of that I own the better part.
We raise all the insulating fiber used anywhere for spaceships. That very suit
you wear is made of it. Don’t you think that is worth saving?”
    â€œI
didn’t say I wouldn’t try,” said Ole Doc. “I only said I couldn’t promise. Now
where did this epidemic start and when?”
    â€œAbout
three months ago. I am certain it was brought here from the Sirius planet where
we procured our slaves. It broke out on a spaceship and killed half the crew
and then it started to work its way through the entire planet here. By God . .
.”
    â€œIs
there another doctor here?”
    â€œNo.
There were only two. Not Soldiers of Light, naturally. Just doctors. They died
in the first part of the epidemic. You have to do something!”
    â€œWill
you show me around?”
    A
look of pallor came over Arlington’s big face. For all his courage in other
fields, it was gone in this. “I must stay here to be near Central. The slave
guards have withdrawn and there may be an uprising.”
    â€œAh.
Of slaves? What slaves?”
    â€œThe
people we brought from Sirius Sixty-eight. And good slaves they’ve been. I
wouldn’t trade one for thirty immigrants. They’re cheap. They cost us nothing
except their transportation.”
    â€œAnd
their food.”
    â€œNo,”
said Arlington, looking sly. “That’s the best part of it. They eat nothing that
we can discover. No food expense at all. We can’t have them running away—not
that they’d get far in this weather. They make excellent loggers. They never
tire. And whatever the disease our people got on Sirius Sixty-eight—”
    â€œHave
any slaves died?”
    â€œNone.”
    â€œAh,”
said Ole Doc. “Do these slaves have their own leader?”
    â€œNo.
That is, not a leader. They have something they call a cithw, a sort of
medicine man who says their prayers for them.”
    â€œYou’ve
talked this over with him, of course.”
    â€œMe?
Why should I talk to a filthy native?”
    â€œSometimes
they can help quite a bit,” said Ole Doc.
    â€œRot!”
said Arlington. “We are superior to
them in culture and weapons and that makes them inferior to us. Fair game! And
we need them here. What good were they doing anyone on Sirius Sixty-eight?”
    â€œOne
never knows, does one,” said Ole Doc. He was beginning to dislike George
Jasper Arlington, for all the fact that one, when he has lived several hundred
years, is likely to develop an enormous amount of tolerance.
    â€œI
think I had better look around,” said Ole Doc. “I’ll let you know.”
    But
as he touched the handle of the door a red light flashed on Arlington’s Central
and a hysterical voice said, “Chief! They’ve beat it!”
    â€œStop
them!”
    â€œI
can’t. I haven’t got a guard that will stand up to them. They’re