James White - SG 04 - Ambulance Ship

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Ambulance Ship
James White
1979
Scanned by lzmini Feb 03
PART 1
SPACEBIRD
The Monitor Corps scoutship Torrance was engaged on a mission which was both
highly important and deadly dull. Like the other units of its flotilla it had
been assigned a relatively tiny volume of space in Sector Nine—one of the many
threedimensional blanks which still appeared in the Federation’s charts— to fill
in the types and positions of the stars which it contained and the numbers of
planets circling them.
Because a ten-man scoutship did not have the facilities for handling a
first contact situation, they were forbidden to land or even make a close
approach to these planets. They would identify the technologically advanced
worlds, if any, by analyzing the radio frequency and other forms of radiation
emanating from them. As Major Madden, the vessel’s captain, had told them at the
start of the mission, they were simply going to count lights in the sky and that
was all.
Naturally, Fate could not resist a temptation like that...
“Radar, sir,” said a voice from the controlroom speaker. “We have a blip
on the close-approach screen. Distance six miles, closing slowly, non-collision
course.”
“Lock on the telescope,” said the Captain, “and let’s see it.”
“Yes, sir. Repeater screen Two.”
On Corps scoutships discipline was strict only when circumstances
warranted it, and normally those circumstances did not arise during a mapping
mission. As a result the noises coming from the speaker resembled a debate
rather than a series of station reports.
“It looks like a ... a bird, sir, with its wings spread.”
“A plucked bird.”
“Has anyone calculated the chances against materializing this close to an
object in interstellar space?”
“I think it’s an asteroid, or molten material which congealed by accident
into that shape.”
“Two lights years from the nearest sun?”
“Quiet, please,” said the Captain. “Lock on an analyzer and report.”
There was a short pause, then: “Estimated size, roughly onethird that of
this ship. It’s non-reflective, non-metallic, non-mineral and—”
“You’re doing a fine job of telling me what it isn’t,” said the Captain
dryly.“It is organic, sir, and .
“Yes?”
“And alive.”
For a few seconds the controlroom speaker and the Captain held their
breath, then Madden said firmly, “Power Room, maneuvering thrust in five
minutes. Astrogation, match courses and close to five hundred yards. Ordanace,
stand by. Surgeon-Lieutenant Brenner will prepare for EVA.”
The debate was over.
During the ensuing four hours Lieutenant Brenner examined the creature,
initially at a safe distance and later as closely as his suit would allow. He
was sure that the analyzer had been a little too optimistic over what was most
likely a not quite frigid corpse. Certainly the thing was no threat because it
could not move even if it had wanted to. The covering of what looked like large,
flat barnacles and the rock-hard cement which held them together saw to that.
Later, when he was ending his report to the Captain, he said, “To sum up,
sir, it is suffering from a pretty weird skin condition which got out of control
and caused it to be dumped—certainly it didn’t fly out here. This implies a race
with space-travel who are subject to a disease which scares them so badly that
they dump the sufferers into space while they are still alive.
“As you know,” he continued, “I don’t have the qualifications to treat e-t
diseases, and the being is too large to fit into our hold. But we could enlarge
our hyperspace envelope and tow it to Sector General.
“That would make a nice break in the mapping routine,” he added hopefully,
“and I’ve never been to that place. I’m told that not all the nurses there have
six legs.”
The Captain was silet~t fo1 ~ moment, then he nodded.
“I have,” he said. “Some of them have more.”
***
Framed in the rescue tender’s aft vision screen the tremendous structure that
was Sector Twelve General Hospital hung in space like a gigantic cylindrical
Christmas tree. Its thousands of viewports were constantly ablaze with light in
the dazzling variety of color and intensity necessary for the visual equipment
of its patients and staff, while inside its three hundred and eighty-four levels
was reproduced the environments of all the intelligent life-forms known to the
Galactic Federation—a biological spectrum ranging from the ultrafrigid methane-
breathers through the more normal oxygen- and chlorine-breathing types up to the
exotic beings who existed by the direct conversion of hard radiation.
In addition to the patients, whose numbers and physiological
classifications were a constant variable, there was a medical and maintenance
staff comprising sixty-odd differing life-forms with sixty different sets of
mannerisms, body odors and ways of looking at life.
The staff of Sector General prided themselves that no case was too big,
too small or too hopeless, and their reputation and facilities were second to
none. They were an extremely able, dedicated, but not always serious bunch, and
Senior Physician Conway could not rid himself of the idea that on this occasion
someone was playing a complicated joke on him.
“Now that I see it,” he said dryly, “I still can’t believe it.”
Pathologist Murchison, who occupied the position beside him, stared at the
image of Torrance and its tow without comment. On the controlroom ceiling, where
it clung with six fragile, suckertipped legs, Doctor Prilicla trembled slightly
and said, “It could prove to be an interesting and exciting professional
challenge, friend Conway.”
The musical trills and clicks of the Cinrusskin’s speech were received by
Conway’s translator pack, relayed to the translation computer at the center of
the hospital and transmitted back to his earpiece as flat, emotionless English.
As expected, the reply was pleasant, polite and extremely non-controversial.
Prilicla was insectile, exe-skeletal, six-legged and with a pair of
iridescent and not quite atrophied wings and possessing a highlydeveloped
empathic faculty. Only on Cinruss with its one-eighth gravity and dense
atmosphere could a race of insects have grown to such dimensions and in time
developed intelligence and an advanced civilization. But in Sector General
Prilicla was in deadly danger for most of its working day. It had to wear
gravity nullifiers everywhere outside its own quarters because the gravity pull
which most of its colleagues considered normal would instantly have crushed it
flat, and when Prilicla held a conversation with anyone it kept well out of
reach of any thoughtless movement of an arm or tentacle which could easily cave
in its fragile body or snap off a leg.
Not that anyone would have wanted to hurt Prilicla-it was too well-liked
for that. The Cinrusskin’s empathic faculty forced it to be kind and considerate
to everyone in order to make the emotional radiation of the people around it as
pleasant for itself as possible.
Except when its professional duty exposed it to pain and violent emotion
in a patient, and that situation might arise within the next few minutes.
Turning suddenly to Prilicla, Conway said, “Wear your lightweight suit but
stay well clear of the being until we tell you that there is no danger of
movement, involuntary or otherwise, from it. We shall wear heavy duty suits,
mostly because they have more hooks on which to hang our diagnostic equipment,
and I shall ask Torrance’s medic to do the same.”
Half an hour later Lieutenant Brenner, Murchison and Conway were hanging
beside the form of the enormous bird while Prilicla, wearing a transparent
plastic bubble through which projected its bony mandibles, drifted beside the
lock of their tender.
“No detectable emotional radiation, friend Conway,” reported the empath.
“I’m not surprised,” said Murchison.
“It could be dead,” said the Lieutenant defensively. “But when we found it
the body temperature was measurably above the norm for an object warmed only by
a two light-years distant sun.
“There was no criticism intended, Doctor,” said Murchison soothingly. “I
was simply agreeing with our empathic friend. But did you, before or during the
trip here, carry out any examinations, observations or tests on this patient, or
reach any tentative conclusions as a result of such tests? And don’t be shy,
Lieutenant-we may be the acknowledged experts in xenological medicine and
physiology here, but we got that way by listening and looking, not by gratuitous
displays of our expertise. You were curious, naturally, and...
“Yes, ma’am,” said Brenner, his voice registering surprise that there was
an Earth-human female inside the bulky suit. “I assumed that, lacking
information on its planet of origin, you might want to know if there were any
safe atmospheric compositions in which it could be examined-I was assuming that,
being a bird, it needed an atmosphere to fly in and that it had been dumped in
space because of its diseased condition . .
Listening, Conway could not help admiring the smooth way in which
Murchison was getting the Corps medic to tell them about the things he had done
wrong. As an e-t pathologist she was used to non-specialists interfering and
complicating her job, and it was necessary that she discover as much as possible
about the being’s original condition before the changes or additional damage
caused by inexpert examination-no matter how well-intentioned-had been
introduced. She was finding out all that she needed to know quietly and without
giving offense, as if she was Prilicla in human form.
But as Brenner continued talking it became increasingly clear that he had
made few, if any, mistakes, and a fair proportion of Conway’s professional
admiration was being diverted towards the Lieutenant.
..... After I sent the preliminary report and we were on our way,” Brenner
was saying, “I discovered two small, rough areas on the black stuff covering the
creature-a small, circular patch at the base of the neck, right here, and an
oval patch, a little larger, which you can see on the underside. In both these
areas the black stuff is cracked but with the cracks filled, or partly filled,
by more of the stuff, and a few of the barnacles in these areas have been
damaged as well. This is where I took my specimens.”
“Marking the places you took them from, I see,” said Murchison. “Go on,
Doctor.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the Lieutenant, and went on. The black material seems
to be a near-perfect insulator-it is highly resistant to heat, including that of
a cutting torch at medium power. At very high temperatures the area under test
formed a black ash which flaked away but showed no sign of softening or
cracking. The chips of shell from the damaged barnacles were not quite so heat-
resistant unless they happened to be covered by the black material.
“The black stuff was also resistant to chemical attack,” Brenner
continued, “but not the pieces of shell. When the chips were exposed to various
basic atmospheric types, the results seemed to indicate that they had not
originated on one of the exotic environments- methane- or ammonia- or even
chlorine-based atmosphere envelopes. Composition of the fragments seems to be
basic hydrocarbon material, and they did not react to short-term exposures to an
oxygen-rich mixture-”
“Give me the details of the tests you made,” said Murchison, suddenly
becoming very businesslike and, although the Lieutenant did not know it, very
complimentary. Conway signaled Prilicla to come closer, leaving the professional
and amateur pathologists to get on with it.
“I don’t think the patient is capable of movement,” he told the
Cinrusskin. “I don’t even know if it’s alive. Is it?”
Prilicla’s limbs trembled as it steeled itself to make a negative reply
and by so doing, become just the slightest bit disagreeable. It said, “That is a
deceptively simple question, friend Conway. All that I can say is that it
doesn’t appear to be quite dead.”
“But you can detect the emotional emanations from a sleeping or deeply
unconscious mind,” said Conway incredulously. “Is there no emotional radiation
at all?”
“There are traces, friend Conway,” said the Cinrusskin, still trembling,
“but they are too faint to be identifiable. There is no selfawareness and the
traces which are apparent do not, so far as I am able to tell, originate from
the being’s cranial area-they seem to emanate from the body as a whole. I have
never encountered this effect before, so I lack sufficient information or
experience even to speculate.”
“But you will,” said Conway, smiling.
“Of course,” said Prilicla. “It is possible that if the being was both
deeply unconscious and at the same time was having the nerve endings in its skin
constantly stimulated by severe pain, this might explain the effect which I can
detect on and for some distance below the skin.”
“But that means that you are detecting the peripheral nerve network and
not the brain,” said Conway. “That is unusual.”
“Highly unusual, friend Conway,” said the little empath. “The brain in
question would have to have had important nerve trunks severed or have suffered
major structural damage.”
In short, Conway thought grimly, we may have been handed someone’s cast-
off patient.
II
Murchison and Brenner, using the pathologist’s sterile drills, were taking deep
samples as well as collecting and labelling chippings of shell and the black
material which covered the patient-more accurately, Murchison took the samples
while the Lieutenant sealed the tiny openings she made. Conway returned to the
tender with Prilicla to arrange accommodation for the patient based on their
sketchy knowledge-an evacuated chamber large enough to hold the thing, with
provision for restraining it and for surrounding it with an oxygen-based
atmosphere-and was followed shortly afterwards by the others.
It was then that Brenner saw for the first time the contents of the
pathologist’s spacesuit, and Prilicla began a slow tremble.
Unless covered by a heavy duty suit fitted with an opaque sun filter,
Murchison displayed a combination of physiological features which made it
impossible for any male Earth-human member of the staff to regard her with
anything approaching clinical detachment. The Lieutenant finally managed to drag
his eyes away from her and to notice Prilicla.
“Is something wrong, Doctor?” he asked, looking concerned.
“To the contrary, friend Brenner,” said the empath, still trembling
slowly. “This type of involuntary physical activity is my species’ reaction to
the close proximity of an intense but pleasurable source of emotional radiation
of the kind usually associated with the biological urge to mate.
The Cinrusskin broke off and stopped trembling because the Surgeon-
Lieutenant’s suddenly red face was clashing discordantly against his green
uniform, and Prilicla was feeling his embarrassment.
Murchison smiled sympathetically and said, “Perhaps I am the cause,
Lieutenant Brenner-I have intense feelings of pleasure over the way in which
your earlier tests and deductions have saved me nearly four hours work in a very
irksome spacesuit. Isn’t that so, Prilicla?”
“Most certainly,” said the empath, to whom lying was second nature so long
as it made someone, especially itself, happy. “Empathy is not nearly as accurate
as telepathy, you know, and mistakes of this kind frequently occur.”
Conway cleared his throat and said, “I’ve arranged to see O’Mara just as
soon as we have the patient accommodated which, initially, will be in an
evacuated dock and storage chamber on Level 103. We will use the tender’s
tractor beam to transfer the patient to the hospital, so if you are needed on
board Torrance, Lieutenant . . .
Brenner shook his head. “The Captain would like to spend some time here,
if possible, and so would I if I wouldn’t be in the way. It’s my first time to
visit this place. Are there, ah, many other Earthhumans on the medical staff?”
If you mean like Murchison, Conway thought smugly, the answer is no.
Aloud, he said, “We would welcome your help, of course. But you do not know what
you are letting yourself in for, Lieutenant, and you keep asking about the
Earth-humans on the staff. Are you xenophobic, even slightly? Uncomfortable near
extraterrestrials?”
“Certainly not,” said Brenner firmly, then added, “Of course, I wouldn’t
want to marry one.
Prilicla began the slow shakes again. The musical trills and clicks of its
Cinrusskin speech formed a pleasant background to its translated voice as it
said, “From the sudden flood of pleasant emotional radiation, for which I can
see no apparent reason in the current situation and recent dialogue, I assume
that someone has made what Earth-humans call a joke.”
At Level 103 Prilicla left to check on its wards while the others
supervised the transfer of the great, stiff-winged bird into the storage
chamber. Looking at the swept-back, partially folded wings and stiffly extended
neck, Conway was reminded of one of the old-time space shuttles. His mind began
to slip off on an interesting but ridiculous, tangent and he had to remind
himself that birds did not fly, in space.
With the patient immobilized under one full G of artificial gravity it
still took another three hours before Murchison had everything she wanted in the
way of specimens and x-rays. In part the delay was caused by them having to work
in pressure suits because, as Murchison put it, there would be little risk in
observing the patient for a few more hours in airless conditions until they had
worked out its atmosphere requirements with exactness-otherwise they might
simply end by observing its processes of decomposition.
But their information on the patient was growing with every minute that
passed, and the results of their tests-transmitted direct from Pathology by the
portable communicator beside them-were both interesting and utterly baffling.
Conway lost all track of time until the communicator chimed for attention and
the face of Major O’Mara glowered out at them.
“Conway, you arranged to see me here seven and one half minutes ago,” said
the Chief Psychologist. “No doubt you were just leaving.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Conway, “the preliminary investigation is taking
longer than I estimated, and I want to have something concrete to report before
seeing you.
There was a faint rustling sound as O’Mara breathed heavily through his
nose. The Chief Psychologist’s face was about as readable as a piece of
weathered basalt, which in some respects it resembled, but the eyes which
studied Conway opened into a mind so keenly analytical that it gave the Major
what amounted to a telepathic faculty.
As Chief Psychologist of a multi-environment hospital he was responsible
for the mental well-being of a staff of several thousand entities belonging to
more than sixty different species. Even though his Monitor Corps rank of Major
did not place him high in the chain of command, there was no clear limit to his
authority. To O’Mara the medical staff were patients, too, and part of his job
was to assign the right kind of doctor-whether Earth-human or e-t- to a given
patient.
Given even the highest qualities of tolerance and mutual respect,
potentially dangerous situations could still arise through ignorance or
misunderstanding, or a being could develop xenophobia to a degree which
threatened to affect its professional competence, mental stability, or both. An
Earth-human doctor, for instance, who had a subconscious fear of spiders would
not be able to bring to bear on a Cinrusskin patient the proper degree of
clinical detachment necessary for its treatment. And if someone like Prilicla
were to treat such an Earth-human patient...
A large part of O’Mara’s job was to detect and eradicate such trouble
among the medical staff while other members of his department saw to it that the
problem did not arise where the patients were concerned. According to O’Mara
himself, however, the true reason for the high degree of mental stability among
the variegated and often touchy medical staff was that they were all too
frightened of him to risk going mad.
Caustically, he said, “Doctor Conway, I freely admit that this patient is
unusual even by your standards, but you must have discovered a few simple facts
about it and its condition. Is it alive? Is it diseased or injured? Does it
possess intelligence? Are you wasting your time on an outsize, space-frozen
turkey?”
Conway ignored the rhetoric and tried to answer the questions. He said.
“The patient is alive, just barely, and the indications are that it is both
diseased-the exact nature of the disease is not yet known-and suffering from
gross physical injury, specifically a punctured wound made by a large, high-
velocity projectile or a tightly focused heat beam which passed through the base
of the neck and the upper chestal area. The wound entrance and exit is sealed by
the black covering or growth-we still don’t know which-encasing the body.
Regarding the possibility of intelligence, the cranial capacity is large enough
not to rule this out, but again, the head is too deeply unconscious to radiate
detectable emotion. The manipulatory appendages, whose degree of specialization
or otherwise can give a strong indication of the presence or absence of
intelligence, have been removed.
“Not by us,” Conway added.
O’Mara was silent for a moment, then he said, “I see. Another one of your
deceptively simple cases. No doubt you will have deceptively simple special
requirements. Accommodation? Physiology tapes? Information on planet of origin?”
Conway shook his head. “I don’t believe that you have a physlology tape
that will cover this patient’s type-all the winged species we know are light-
gravity beings, and this one has muscles for about four Gs. The present
accommodation is fine, although we’ll have to be careful in case of
contamination of or from the chlorine level above us-the seals to storage
compartments like this are not designed for constant traffic, unlike the ward
airlocks-”
“I didn’t know that, of course.”
“Sorry, sir,” said Conway. “I was thinking aloud, and partly for the
benefit of Surgeon-Lieutenant Brenner, who is visiting this madhouse for the
first time. Regarding information on its planet of origin, I would like you to
approach Colonel Skempton to ask him if it would be possible for Torrance to
return to that area to investigate the two nearer star systems, to look for
beings with a similar physiological classification.”
“In other words,” said O’Mara dryly, “you have a difficult medical problem
and think that the best solution is to find the patient’s own doctor.”
Conway smiled and said, “We don’t need full cultural contact- just a quick
look, atmosphere samples and specimens of local plant and animal life, if
Torrance wouldn’t mind soft-landing a probe-”
O’Mara broke the connection at that point with a sound which was
untranslatable and Conway, now that they had gone as far as they could with the
patient without the path reports, suddenly realized how hungry he was.
III
To reach the dining hall reserved for warm-bodied oxygen breathers they had to
travel through two levels, none of which required protective suits, and a
network of corridors crowded with entities which flapped, crawled, undulated and
occasionally walked past them. They were met at the entrance by Prilicla who was
carrying a folder of green path reports.
As they entered the last Earth-human table was being taken by a bunch of
crab-like Melfans and a Tralthan-Melfans could adapt themselves to the low
stools and the Tralthans did everything including sleep on their six elephantine
feet. Prilicla spotted an empty table in the Kelgian area and flew across to
claim it before the party of Corps maintenancemen could get there. Luckily it
was beyond the range of their emotional radiation.
Conway began eagerly leafing through the reports once he saw that the
Lieutenant was being shown by Murchison how to balance on the edge of a Kelgian
chair within reach of the food he had ordered. But for once Brenner’s attention
was not on the shapely pathologist. He was staring at Prilicla, his eyebrows
almost lost in his hairline.
“Cinrusskins prefer to eat while hovering-they say it aids the digestion,”
explained Murchison, and added, “The slipstream helps cool the soup, too.”
Prilicla maintained a stable hover while they concentrated on refuelling,
breaking off only to pass around the reports. Finally Conway, feeling pleasantly
distended, turned to the Cinrusskin.
“I don’t know how you managed it,” he said warmly. “When I want a fast
report from Thornnastor the most he will let me do is just two places in the
queue.”
Prilicla trembled at the compliment as it replied “I insisted, quite
truthfully, that our patient was at the point of death.”
“But not,” said Murchison dryly, “that it has been in that condition for a
very long time.”
“You’re sure of that?” asked Conway.
“I am now,” she answered seriously, tapping one of the reports as she
spoke. “The indications are that the large punctured wound was inflicted by a
meteorite collision some time after the disease, that is the barnacles and
coating material were in position. The coating which flowed into and across the
wound, effectively sealed it.
“As well,” she continued, “these tests show that a very complex chemical
form of suspended animation-not just hypothermia was used and that it was
applied organ by organ, almost cell by cell, by micro-injections of the required
specifics. In a way you could think of it as if the creature had been embalmed
before it was quite dead in an effort to prolong its life.”
“What about the missing legs or claws?” said Conway, “and the evidence of
charring under the coating in the areas behind the wings? And the pieces of what
seems to be a different kind of barnacle in those areas?”
“It is possible,” Murchison replied, “that the disease initially affected
the being’s legs or claws, perhaps during its equivalent of nesting. The removal
of the limbs and the evidence of charring you mention might have been early and
unsuccessful attempts at curing the patient’s condition. Remember that virtually
all of the creature’s body wastes were eliminated before the coating was
applied. That is standard procedure before hibernation, anesthesia or major
surgery.
The silence which followed was broken by the Lieutenant, who said, “Excuse
me, I’m getting lost. This disease or growth, what exactly do we know about it?”
They knew that the outward symptoms of the disease were the barnacle-like
growths, Murchison told him, which covered the patient’s tegument so completely
that it could have been a suit of chain mail. It was still open to argument
whether the barnacles were skin conditions which had sprouted rootlets or a
subcutaneous condition with a barnacle-like eruption on the surface, but in
either event they were held by a thick pencil of fine rootlets extending and
subdividing to an unknown depth within the patient. They penetrated not only the
subcutaneous tissue and underlying musculature, but practically all of the vital
organs and central nervous systems. And the rootlets were hungry. There could be
no doubt from the condition of the tissue underlying the barnacles that this was
a severely wasting disease which was far advanced.
“It seems to me that you should have been called in earlier,” said
Brenner, “and that the patient was sealed up just before it was due to die.”
Conway nodded and said, “But it isn’t hopeless. Some of our e-ts practice
micro-surgery techniques which would enable them to excise the rootlets, even
the ones which are tangled up in the nerve bundles. It is a very slow procedure,
however, and there is the danger that when we revive the patient the disease
will also be revived and that it might progress faster than the micro-surgeon. I
think the answer is to learn as much as we possibly can about the disease before
we do anything else.”
When they returned to the patient there was a message waiting from O’Mara
to say that Torrance had left with the promise of preliminary reports on the two
solar systems nearest to the find within three days. During those three days
Conway expected to devise procedures which would remove the coating and
barnacles from the patient, arrest the disease and initiate curative surgery so
that the scoutship’s reports would be needed only to prepare proper
accommodation for the patient’s convalescence.
During those three days, however, they got precisely nowhere.
The material which encased barnacles and patient alike could be drilled
and chipped away with great difficulty and an enormous waste of time-the process
resembled that of chipping out a fossil without inflicting damage, and this
particular fossil was fifty feet long and over eighty from tip to tip of its
partially folded wings. When Conway insisted that Pathology produce a faster
method of stripping the patient he was told that the coating was a complex
organic, that the specifics they had devised for dissolving it would produce
large quantities of toxic gases-toxic to the patient as well as the attending
physicians-and that the shell material of the barnacles would be instantly
dissolved by this solvent and that it would not be good for the patient’s skin
and underlying tissue, either. They went back to drilling and chipping.
Murchison, who was continually withdrawing micro-specimens from the areas
affected by the rootlets, was informative but unhelpful.
“I’m not suggesting that you should abandon this one,” she said
sympathetically, “but you should start thinking about it. In addition to the
widespread tissue wastage, there is evidence of structural damage to the wing
muscles-damage which may well have been selfinflicted-and I think the heart has
ruptured. This will mean major surgical repairs as well as-”
“This muscle and heart damage,” said Conway sharply. “Could it have been
caused by the patient trying to get out of its casing?” “It is possible but not
likely,” she replied in a voice which reminded him that he was not talking to a
junior intern and that past and present relationships could change with very
little notice. “That coating is hard, but it is relatively very thin and the
leverage of the patient’s wings is considerable. I would say that the heart and
muscle damage occurred before the patient was encased.”
“I’m sorry if began Conway.
“There is also the fact,” she went on coldly, “that the barnacles are
clustered thickly about the patient’s head and along the spine. Even with our
tissue and nerve regeneration techniques, the patient may never be able to think
or move itself even if we are successful in returning it to a technically living
state.”
“I hadn’t realized,” said Conway dully, “that it was as serious as that.
But there must be something we can do He tried to pull his face muscles into
a smile. “. . . if only to preserve Brenner’s illusions about the miracle-
workers of Sector General.”
Brenner had been looking from one to the other, obviously wondering
whether this was a spirited professional discussion or the beginning of some
kind of family fight. But the Lieutenant was tactful as well as observant. He
said, “I would have given up a long time ago.
Before either of them could reply the communicator chimed and Chief of
Pathology Thornnastor was framed in the screen.
“My department,” said the Tralthan, “has worked long and diligently to
discover a method of removing the coating material by chemical means, but in
vain. The material is, however, affected by intense heat. At high temperatures
the surface crumbles, the ashy deposit can be scraped or blown away and heat
again applied. The process can be continued safely until the coating is very
thin, after which it could be removed in large sections without harm to the
patient.”
Conway obtained the temperature and thickness figures, thanked Thornnastor
and then used the communicator to call the maintenance section for cutting
torches and operators. He had not forgotten Murchison’s doubts regarding the
advisability of attempting a cure, but he had to go on trying. He did not know
that the great, diseased bird would end as a winged vegetable, and he would not
know until they knew everything possible about the disease which was affecting
it. Because the heat treatment was untried they began near the tail, where the
vital organs were deeply buried and where the area had already been disturbed,
presumably by the efforts of their medical predecessors.
After only half an hour’s continuous burning they had their first stroke
of luck in three days. They discovered a barnacle which was embedded upside down
in the patient-its bundle of rootlets fanned out to link up with the other
barnacles, but a few of them curved down and past the rim of its shell to enter
the patient. The surface rootlet network was clearly visible as the flame of the
torch burned the rootlet material into a fine, incandescent web. One of the
briefly incandescent rootlets pointed towards a barnacle which was larger and
differently shaped.
Patiently they painted both objects and their immediate surroundings with
the cutting torches, brushing away the crumbling layers of coating until it was
wafer thin. They cracked it, carefully peeled back the remains of the coating
and lifted away two perfect specimens.
“They are dead,” asked Conway, “not just dormant?”
“They are dead,” said Prilicla.
“And the patient?”
“Life is still present, friend Conway, but the radiation is extremely
weak, and diffuse.”
Conway studied the area bared by the removal of the two specimens. Beneath
the first was a small, deep hollow which followed the contours of the reversed
shell. The underlying tissues showed a high degree of compression, and the few
rootlets in evidence were much too weak and fine to have held the barnacle so
tightly against the patient. Something or somebody had pressed the barnacle into
position with considerable force.
The second, and different, specimen had been held only by the coating,
apparently-it did not possess rootlets. But it did possess wings folded into
long slits in its carapace and so, on closer inspection, did the first type.
Prilicla alighted beside them, trembling slightly and erratically in the
fashion which denoted excitement. It said, “You will have noticed that these are
two entirely different species, friend Conway. Both are large, winged insects of
the type which require a lowgravity planet with a thick air envelope-not unlike
Cinruss. It is possible that the first type is a predator parasite and that the
second is a natural enemy, introduced by a third party in an attempt to cure the
patient.”
Conway nodded. “It would explain why type one turned on to its back when
approached by type two...
“I hope,” said Murchison apologetically, “that your theory is flexible
enough to accept another datum.” She had been scraping persistently at a piece
of coating which was still adhering to a smaller slit in the barnacle. “The
coating material was not applied by a third party, it is a body secretion of
type one.
“If you don’t mind,” she added, “I’ll take both of these beasties to
Pathology for a long, close look.”
For several minutes after she left nobody spoke. Prilicla began to tremble
again and, judging by the expression of Brenner’s face, it was at something the
officer was feeling. It was the Lieutenant who broke the silence.
“If the parasites are responsible for the coating,” he said sickly, “then
there was no earlier attempt to cure the patient. Our heavygravity patient was
probably attacked on the light-gravity planet of the flying barnacles, they sank
in their rootlets or tendrils, paralyzed its muscles and nervous system and
encased it in a . . . a shell of slowly feeding maggots when it wasn’t even
dead-”“A little more clinical detachment, Lieutenant,” said Conway sharply.
“You’re bothering Prilicla. And while something like that may have happened,
there are still a few awkward facts which don’t fit. That depression under the
inverted barnacle still bothers me.”
“Maybe it sat on one of them,” said Brenner angrily, his feeling of
revulsion temporarily overcoming his manners. “And I can understand why its
friends dumped the patient into space-there was nothing else they could do.”
He hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry, Doctor. But is there anything else
that you can do?”
“There is something,” said Conway grimly, “that we can try. .
IV
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AmbulanceShipJamesWhite1979ScannedbylzminiFeb03PART1SPACEBIRDTheMonitorCorpsscoutshipTorrancewasengagedonamissionwhichwasbothhighlyimportantanddeadlydull.LiketheotherunitsofitsflotillaithadbeenassignedarelativelytinyvolumeofspaceinSectorNine—oneofthemanythreedimensionalblankswhichstillappearedintheF...

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