James White - SG 09 - Galactic Gourmet

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THE GALACTIC
GOURMET
A SECTOR GENERAL
NOVEL
James White
BOOKS BY JAMES WHITE
The Secret Visitor (1957)
Second Ending (1962)
Deadly Litter (1964)
Escape Orbit (1965)
The Watch Below (1966)
All Judgement Fled (1968)
The Aliens among Us (1969)
Tomorrow is Too Far (1971)
Dark Inferno (1972)
The Dream Millennium (1974)
Monsters and Medics (1977)
Underkill (1979)
Future Past (1982)
The Silent Stars Go By (1991)
The Sector General Series
Hospital Station (1962)
Star Surgeon (1963)
Major Operation (1971)
Ambulance Ship (1979)
Sector General (1983)
Star Healer (1985)
Code Blue—Emergency (1987)
The Genocidal Healer (1992)
The Galactic Gourmet (Tor, 1996)
Final Diagnosis (forthcoming from Tor, 1997)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 1
Gurronsevas had long been accustomed to being accorded the outward forms of
respect by persons nominally his superior, and usually it was because of his enormous
physical strength and body mass, rather than his less obvious attributes of high intelli-
gence and unrivalled professional experience. Being invited to view the final
approach from the courier vessel's tiny control deck was a courtesy rarely extended to
a ship's passenger even when, as in his own case, he was the only one. But he wished
heartily that the Captain had shown less politeness and more consideration by al-
lowing him to complete the voyage in Tennochlan's uncluttered and much roomier
cargo hold.
He watched in polite silence and mounting awe, his physical discomfort
forgotten, as the gigantic, complex structure that was Sector Twelve General Hospital
grew larger until the forward view-screen was entirely filled by the breathtaking sight
of dazzling, regimented lines of approach beacons, dock floodlighting, and the ex-
ternal ports and ward-viewing galleries that were ablaze with every color and
intensity of light that the occupants considered normal.
Beside him Captain Mallan showed its teeth briefly and made the untranslatable,
barking sound which among Earth-humans signified humor. It said, "Enjoy the view
while you can. The people who work here rarely get the chance to see the outside of
their world."
The other officers on the flight deck maintained the silence of subordinates and,
there being nothing of importance that he wished to say, Gurronsevas joined them.
Suddenly the image disappeared to be replaced by a picture of a pale-green
Illensan chlorine-breather whose outlines were partially concealed by the yellow fog
inside its protective envelope. It was seated at a communications console, and the flat,
translated voice still retained some of the hissing and moaning quality of the original
word-sounds as it spoke.
"Reception," it said quickly. "Identify yourselves, please. State whether patient,
visitor, or staff, and give species. If there is an emergency condition please give
patient clinical details first, then the physiological classifications of the others so we
can arrange suitable accommodation, life-support, and proper type and periodicity of
meals."
"Meals," said the Captain, looking at Gurronsevas and showing its teeth again. It
pressed the transmit stud and said briskly, "No medical emergency on board. I am
Major Mallan, commanding Monitor Corps scoutship Tennochlan, courier flight from
Retlin on Nidia. Crew of four, all Earth-human DBDG classification plus one
passenger, Gurronsevas, a Tralthan FGLI joining the hospital staff. All are warm-
blooded oxygen-breathers and this one, myself, would certainly appreciate a change
from ship rations..."
"Wait," said Reception, who plainly was not disposed to waste time discussing
the subject of Earth-human food, the ingestion of which would have been instantly
lethal to an Illensan. The image of the hospital structure returned to the screen,
looking closer and even more impressive, but only for a moment.
"Please follow the red-yellow-red beacons to the vacant Class Three docking
cradle adjoining Lock Twenty-three," it went on briskly. "Monitor Corps officers will
report to Colonel Skempton. Gurronsevas will be met by Lieutenant Timmins on
arrival."
Was this another courtesy, Gurronsevas wondered, from a being who might or
might not consider itself his superior? Somehow he doubted it. The being in
Reception had not been impressed by his name, yet they must have heard of him even
amidst the poisonous yellow fog of chlorine-breathing Illensa. But there had been no
mention of the famous or the renowned or the great Gurronsevas, whose name and
unique ability was admired and debated by the cultured members of every warm-
blooded, oxygen-breathing species in the Federation, and whose unique contribution
to and presence on any one of their home worlds would have been a matter for
planetary pride. There had merely been the brief statement that Gurronsevas would be
met.
A lesser being than himself might have felt uncertain, or even insulted.
The entity Timmins turned out to be an Earth-human DBDG whose dark-green
uniform coveralls, although clean and well-pressed, were so well-worn that the
insignia of rank were all but invisible. Its head fur was the color of dull copper, it
showed its teeth readily in the non-aggressive grimace its species called a smile, and
its manner was brisk and moderately respectful.
"Welcome on board, sir," it said when the introductions had been performed.
"Technically, Sector General is too small to be a planet and too large to be a star-
going vessel, but a ship is how the purists like to refer to it when we are not calling it
something much more derogatory. As soon as convenient I had planned to show you
to your quarters and explain the equipment and functioning. As Head of Maintenance
your environmental control systems are a part of my responsibility, but Major O'Mara
would like to see you in his office sooner than that. Allowing for traffic density in the
intervening corridors, and a delay while changing to lightweight protective envelopes
for the short-cut through the level of the chlorine-breathing PVSJs, it should take
about twenty minutes. On the way you can have the usual but usually inadequate
briefing given to a new arrival.
"With your permission, sir," he added, "I'll lead the way and talk as we walk."
As Gurronsevas followed Timmins out of the lock antechamber and along the
boarding tube and into the hospital proper, the Lieutenant apologized in advance in
case he was imparting information already known to him, and explained that Sector
General was the largest, most technologically advanced and professionally respected
multi-environment hospital ever to come into being. Many planetary cultures had
contributed to its building, fabricating sections and transporting them over a period of
nearly two decades to the assembly area in Galactic Sector Twelve. It was supplied
and maintained by the Monitor Corps, the Federation's executive and law-
enforcement arm, but it was not and never would be a military establishment. In its
three hundred and eighty-four levels could be reproduced the environments of all of
the life-forms known to the Galactic Federation, a physiological spectrum ranging
from the ultra-frigid methane life-forms through the more normal oxygen- and
chlorine-breathing types to the more exotic beings who lived by the direct conversion
of hard radiation.
Gurronsevas missed a few of the Lieutenant's words because he was being forced
to concentrate a large proportion of his attention on avoiding injury or embarrassment
by colliding with or walking on entities larger or smaller than himself. He was travel-
ling inside a combination white-walled, three-dimensional maze, and a noisy and
overcrowded extra-terrestrial menagerie, and soon he would be expected to find his
own way through it.
Two crab-like Melfan ELNTs and an Illensan PVSJ chittered and hissed their
displeasure at him as he stopped awkwardly in the middle of an intersection to let
them pass. In so doing he jostled a tiny, red-furred Nidian who barked a reproof at
him. But the simple translator that he had been given on Tennochlan was programmed
only for Earth-human/Tralthan speech, so that he did not know what exactly anyone
within earshot was whistling, cheeping, growling or moaning at him.
"...Theoretically the staff member possessing the greater medical seniority has
right of way," Timmins was saying, "and you will soon learn to identify the different
ranks from the color markings on the arm-bands that everyone wears. As yet you have
no armband, so your rank is uncertain...Quickly, please, move flat against the wall!"
A great hissing and clanking juggernaut that was nearly half the width of the
corridor was bearing down on them. It was the mobile protective armor used by
SNLU medics, who normally breathed superheated steam, and whose pressure and
gravity requirements were many times greater than that of the—to them, lethal—
environment of the oxygen-breathing levels. In a situation like this, Timmins said
with a brief show of teeth, it was better to ignore differences in rank, allow the
instinct for self-preservation to take over, and get out of the way fast.
"You are adapting to the situation here very well, sir," the Lieutenant went on. "I
have known first-time visitors to the hospital who went into a panic reaction, they ran
and hid themselves or froze into fear paralysis, when confronted with so many differ-
ent life-forms in such a short space of time. I think you will do well."
"Thank you," said Gurronsevas. Normally he would not have volunteered
personal information to another person on first acquaintance, but the Earth-human and
its compliment had pleased him. He went on, "But the experience is not entirely
strange to me, Lieutenant. It is similar to the situation during a multi-species con-
vention, although there the delegates were not usually so well-mannered."
"Really?" said Timmins, and laughed. "But if I were you I would reserve
judgment on their manners, at least until after you are issued with your multi-channel
translator. You don't know what some of them have been calling you. We're within a
few minutes of the Psychology Department now."
On this level, Gurronsevas noted, the corridors were much less crowded but,
strangely, their progress was less rapid. For some reason the Earth-human was
slowing his previously fast walking pace.
"Before you go in," said Timmins suddenly, in the manner of one who has come
to a decision, "it might be a good idea if you knew something about the entity you are
about to meet, Major O'Mara."
"It might prove helpful," Gurronsevas agreed.
"He is the hospital's Chief Psychologist," Timmins went on. "What I believe your
species calls a Healer of the Mind. As such he is responsible for the smooth and
efficient operation of the ten-thousand-odd, sometimes very odd, members of the
medical and maintenance staff..."
Taking into consideration the very high levels of species toleration and
professional respect among its personnel, the Lieutenant explained, and in spite of the
careful psychological screening they all had to undergo before being accepted for
service in a multi-environment hospital, there were still situations when serious inter-
species and interpersonal friction could occur. Potentially dangerous situations could
occur through simple ignorance or misunderstanding or, more seriously, an entity
could develop a xenophobic neurosis towards a patient or colleague which might
affect its professional competence or mental stability. It was O'Mara and his
department's duty to detect and eradicate such problems or, as a last resort, to remove
the potentially troublesome individual from the hospital. There were times when this
constant watch for signs of wrong, unhealthy or intolerant thinking, which the Major
and his staff performed with such dedication, made them the most disliked beings in
the hospital.
"...For administrative reasons," Timmins continued, "O'Mara bears the rank of
Major in the Monitor Corps. There are many officers and medical staff here who are
nominally his senior, but keeping so many different and potentially antagonistic life-
forms working together in harmony is a big job whose limits, like those of O'Mara's
authority, are difficult to define."
"I have long understood," said Gurronsevas, "the difference between rank and
authority."
"That's good," said Timmins, pointing at the large door they were approaching.
"This is the Department of Other-Species Psychology. After you, sir."
He found himself in a large outer office containing four desk consoles ranged on
each side of a broad, clear stretch of floor leading to an inner door. Only three of the
desks were occupied—by a Tarlan, a Sommaradvan, and another Monitor Corps
officer of the same rank and species as Timmins. The Tarlan and Sommaradvan
remained bent over their work, but each curled an eye inquisitively in his direction,
and the other officer looked at him Earth-human fashion with both its eyes. Placing
his six feet as gently as possible against the floor so as to minimize undue noise and
vibration, a politeness he practiced among lower-gravity entities in confined sur-
roundings, he moved further into the room.
He remained silent because in these circumstances he did not consider it proper
to speak to any subordinate person until he had first spoken to their superior.
Timmins said briskly, "Gurronsevas, newly arrived on Tennochlan, to see the
Major."
The other officer smiled and said, "He is waiting for you, Gurronsevas. Please go
in. Alone."
The inner door slid open and Timmins said quietly, "Good luck, sir."
Chapter 2
The inner office of the Chief Psychologist was larger than the outer one, Gurronsevas
saw, and if anything it resembled a well-appointed torture chamber from his native
Traltha's pre-civilized past. Ranged around the walls and encroaching towards the
center of the floor, and in two cases hanging from the ceiling, was a weird and
wonderful assortment of furniture that was designed to enable the different species
with business in the office to sit, lie, curl up, or hang at ease. As a member of a
species who preferred to work, eat, sleep and do everything else standing on its six
feet (except on occasions when eye-level other-species social intercourse was
necessary), Gurronsevas found these office accessories of marginal interest. That was
why he moved without hesitation to stand in the clear area of floor before the
rotatable desk console at which sat this entity of indeterminate authority, O'Mara.
Gurronsevas directed all of his eyes towards O'Mara but remained silent. The
Major knew who he was so it was unnecessary to introduce himself, and he wanted it
to be established from the beginning, at the risk of committing a minor act of
insubordination or impoliteness, that he was a person of strong will who would not be
forced into making unnecessary conversation.
The Major appeared to be old (as Earth-humans counted their years), although
the head-fur and hairy crescents shading its eyes were grey rather than white. Its
facial features and the two hands resting on top of the desk remained motionless while
it was returning his gaze. The silence lengthened until suddenly it nodded its head.
When it spoke it did not use either his name or its own.
There had been a brief and silent contest of wills, but Gurronsevas was not sure
who had won it.
"I must begin by welcoming you to Sector General," said O'Mara, and not once
did he allow the flaps of skin that protected and lubricated its eyes to drop. "We both
realize that these words are nothing more than a polite formality because your
presence here was not requested by the hospital, nor is it as the result of unusually
high medical or technical aptitude. You are here because someone in Federation
Medical Administration had a rush of brains to the head and sent you, leaving us to
discover whether or not the idea is viable. Is that a fair summation of the situation?"
"No," said Gurronsevas. "I was not sent, I volunteered."
"A technicality," said O'Mara, "and possibly an aberration on your part. Why did
you want to come here? And please don't repeat the material in your original
submission. It is long, detailed, most impressive, and probably accurate; but very
often the facts contained in documents of this kind are shaded in favor of the ap-
plicant. Not that I am suggesting that deliberate falsification has taken place, just that
an element of fiction is present. You have no previous hospital experience?"
"You know I haven't," Gurronsevas replied, resisting an urge to stamp his feet in
irritation. "I do not consider that a bar to the performance of my duties."
O'Mara nodded. "But tell me, in as few words as possible: did you want to work
here?"
"I do not work," said Gurronsevas, raising and lowering two of his feet with
enough force to make the floor-mounted furniture in the room vibrate. "I am neither
an artisan nor a technician. I am an artist."
"Please forgive me," said O'Mara in a voice which seemed to be totally devoid of
contrition. "Why have you decided to favor this particular hospital with your
artistry?"
"Because it represents a challenge to me," he replied fiercely. "Perhaps the
ultimate challenge, because Sector General is the biggest and best. That is not a
clumsy attempt at flattering you or your hospital; it is a widely-known fact."
O'Mara inclined its head slightly and said, "It is a fact known to each and every
member of the hospital staff. And I'm pleased that you have not tried to use flattery on
me, clumsy or otherwise, because it doesn't work. Neither can I conceive of any
circumstances where I would use it on another entity—although I have been known,
on a very few occasions, to stoop to politeness. Do we understand each other?—And
this time you may take a few more words to answer the questions," it went on before
Gurronsevas could reply. "What is there about this medical madhouse that attracted
you, why did you decide to come, and what kind of influence do you have that you
were able to swing it? Were you unhappy with your previous establishment or
superiors, or they with you?"
"Of course not!" said Gurronsevas. "It was the Cromingan-Shesk in Retlin on
Nidia, the largest and most highly-acclaimed multi-species hotel and restaurant in the
Federation. They treated me very well there, and had that not been so there were
several other establishments that vied with each other to obtain my services. I was
quite happy there until about a year ago, when I spoke with the Monitor Corps
ranking officer on Nidia Base, Fleet Commander Roonardth, a Kelgian."
Gurronsevas paused, remembering the ridiculously short and simple conversation
that had brought his former life of contentment and boredom to an end.
"Go on," said O'Mara quietly.
"Roonardth wished to compliment me in person," Gurronsevas went on, "and it
was a personage of sufficient importance for me to be called to its table so that it
could do so. Kelgians are, as you know, very forthright beings who are
psychologically incapable of lying or even of being polite. During the conversation
that ensued it said that it had just consumed the finest meal of Crelletin vine-shoots in
its life, rendered even more enjoyable because of its recent stay in Sector General
where it had been taken after an unspecified but clearly life-threatening accident in
space. Roonardth had no complaints about the medical services, but said that when it
criticized the meals being served, it was told by an Earth-human DBDG nurse of a
conspiracy aimed at poisoning long-stay patients whose convalescence was overlong,
but that it was nevertheless fortunate in that it did not have to eat in the staff dining
hall.
"The Fleet Commander said that no doubt the remark was an example of what
Earth-humans called humor," he went on, "but it also suggested that if someone like
Gurronsevas (if there were anyone else like Gurronsevas) were to take charge of
Sector General's commissariat, then patient recuperation and staff morale would be
greatly enhanced. It was a high compliment that gave me much pleasure. But later I
began thinking about it and feeling dissatisfied with a style of life which, I realized,
had become pointless and boring. When Roonardth next came in to dine, I excelled
myself so as to have the opportunity of speaking to it again, and I asked if the Fleet
Commander's earlier suggestion had been a serious one.
"It was," Gurronsevas ended, "and Roonardth had the rank and sufficient
influence with the department responsible for maintaining the hospital to have me
sent, after a wait of a year, to Sector General."
"Yes," said O'Mara. "Roonardth carried enough clout. I assume that you spent the
waiting time familiarizing yourself with the layout and organization of the hospital?
And, like any eager little newcomer, you are anxious to make a good impression on
everyone as quickly as possible, and have already made plans to that effect?"
Gurronsevas' first thought was to point out to the diminutive Earth-human that,
possessing as he did more than five times the other's body mass, he could scarcely be
described as 'little.' Then he decided that O'Mara must have used the word
deliberately in an attempt to unsettle him, and answered simply, "Yes."
The Major regarded him in silence for a moment, then it nodded and briefly
showed its teeth. "In that case, what are your immediate intentions?"
"As soon as possible," said Gurronsevas, trying to control his enthusiasm, "I shall
call a meeting of all hospital food technicians and associated medical personnel, with
the purpose of introducing myself to those few who may not already know of of me
by reputation..."
O'Mara was holding up one hand. It said, "All food technicians? Even the
chlorine-breathers, and the ultra-low temperature and other exotic life-forms?"
"Of course," Gurronsevas replied. "But I would not make any major changes in
the exotics' diets..."
"Thank God for that," said O'Mara.
"...Without first making a careful study of the probable effects and obtaining the
medical and technical advice of those with prior experience. But in time I intend to
increase the present range of my culinary expertise, extensive though it already is, to
include the dietary requirements of species other than the warm-blooded oxygen-
breathers. I am now, after all, the hospital's Chief Dietitian."
O'Mara was moving its head from side to side in a gesture, Gurronsevas had
learned, that indicated non-verbal negation. Impatiently he wondered what objection
this unpleasant entity had to him doing his job.
"I'll tell you exactly what you are," said O'Mara, "and what you will do. You are
a potentially dangerous contradiction. As a newcomer to the hospital without prior
technical or medical training you should be classified as a trainee. Instead you have
arrived as the head of a department whose ramifications are completely unknown to
you. Two points in your favor are that you are aware of your ignorance; and, unlike
our trainees, you have wide experience of other-species social contact. Nevertheless,
you will soon be faced with and have to adapt to physiological types not normally
摘要：

THEGALACTICGOURMETASECTORGENERALNOVELJamesWhiteBOOKSBYJAMESWHITETheSecretVisitor(1957)SecondEnding(1962)DeadlyLitter(1964)EscapeOrbit(1965)TheWatchBelow(1966)AllJudgementFled(1968)TheAliensamongUs(1969)TomorrowisTooFar(1971)DarkInferno(1972)TheDreamMillennium(1974)MonstersandMedics(1977)Underkill(19...

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