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 be 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 damned if he'd sell his
training for six thousand a year. Slave labor, that's what it
was. There were a dozen ads like that in the Journal. Well, he'd
give them a trial, but he'd ask eight thousand and full GEA
benefits. Eight years of school and two more as an intern were
worth at least that.
He pulled the portable voicewrite to a comfortable position in
front of the view wall and began composing another of the series
of letters that had begun months ago in time and parsecs away in
space. His voice was a fluid counterpoint to the soft hum of the
machine.
And as he dictated, his eyes took in the vista through the view
wall. Albertsville was a nice town, too young for slums, too new
for overpopulation. The white buildings were the color of winter
butter in the warm yellow sunlight as the city drowsed in the
noonday heat. It nestled snugly in the center of a bowl-shaped
valley whose surrounding forest clad hills gave mute confirmation
to the fact that Kardon was still primitive, an unsettled world
that had not yet reached the explosive stage of population growth
that presaged maturity. But that was no disadvantage. In fact,
Kennon liked it. Living could be fun on a planet like this.
It was abysmally crude compared to Beta, but the Brotherhood had
opened Kardon less than five hundred years ago, and in such a
short time one couldn't expect all the comforts of civilization.
It required a high population density to supply them, and while
Kardon was integrated, its population was scarcely more than two
hundred million. It would be some time yet before this world
would achieve a Class I status. However, a Class II planet had
some advantages. What it lacked in conveniences it made up in
opportunities and elbow room.
A normal Betan would have despised this world, but Kennon wasn't
normal, although to the casual eye he was a typical
representative of the Medico-Technological Civilization, long
legged, fair haired, and short bodied with the typical Betan
squint that left his eyes mere slits behind thick lashes and
heavy brows. The difference was internal rather than external.
Possibly it was due to the fact that his father was the commander
of a Shortliner and most of his formative years had been spent in
space. To Kennon, accustomed to the timeless horror of hyper
space, all planets were good, broad open places where a man could
breathe unfiltered air and look for miles across distances
unbroken by durralloy bulkheads and safety shields. On a planet
there was spaciousness and freedom, and after the claustrophobic
confinement of a hypership any world was paradise. Kennon
sighed, finished his letters, and placed them in the mail chute.
Perhaps, this time, there would be a favorable reply.
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