Sector General Omnibus 2 - Alien Emergencies (60 page)

“The hospital is giving you the chance,” he ended very seriously, “to try for Diagnostician.”

A Diagnostician!…

Many times Conway had had the disquieting experience of having his mind shared with an alien alter ego, as had the majority of the medics at Sector General. He had even, for one relatively
short period, had his mind apparently taken over by several extraterrestrials. But after that experience O’Mara had spent several days putting the mental pieces of the original Conway personality together again.

The problem was that although the hospital was equipped to treat every known form of intelligent life, no single person could hold in his or its mind even a fraction of the physiological data necessary for this purpose. Surgical dexterity was a product of experience and training, but the complete physiological information on a patient had to be furnished by means of an Educator tape, which was simply the brain record of some great medical genius belonging to the same or a similar species to that of the patient being treated.

If an Earth-human doctor had to treat a Kelgian patient, he took a DBLF physiology tape until treatment was completed, after which the tape was erased. The exceptions to this rule were the Senior Physicians of proven stability with teaching duties, and the Diagnosticians.

A Diagnostician was one of the medical
elite
, a being whose mind was considered stable enough to retain permanently six, seven, and in some cases ten physiology tapes simultaneously. To the data-crammed minds of the Diagnosticians were given the initiation and direction of original research in xenological medicine in addition to the practice and teaching of their considerable art.

But the tapes did not impart only the physiological data—the complete memory and personality of the entity who had possessed that knowledge was transferred as well. In effect a Diagnostician subjected himself or itself voluntarily to an extreme form of multiple schizophrenia. The entities apparently sharing one’s mind could be aggressive, unpleasant individuals—geniuses were rarely charming people—with all sorts of peeves and phobias. Usually these did not become apparent during the course of an operation or treatment. Often the worst times were when the possessor of the tape was relaxing, or sleeping.

Alien nightmares, Conway had been told, were really nightmarish. And alien sexual fantasies or wish-fulfillment dreams were enough to make the person concerned wish, if he was capable of
wishing coherently for anything, that he were dead. Conway swallowed.

“A response of some kind is called for,” O’Mara said sarcastically, his manner indicating that he was back to being his usual, unlovable self and that the Conway interview was no longer a matter for concern. “Unless that gape is an attempt at nonverbal communication?”

“I… I need time to think about it,” Conway said.

“You will have plenty of time to think about it,” O’Mara said, standing up and looking pointedly at the desk chronometer, “on Goglesk.”

The officers of the Monitor Corps scoutship
Trennelgon
knew Conway, both by reputation and by the fact that on three separate occasions he had given instructions to their communications officer during the search and retrieval operation on the widely scattered life capsules of the gigantic coilship belonging to the CRLT group entity.

Virtually every scoutship in three Galactic Sectors had been called on to assist in that operation, and Conway had communicated with the majority of them at some stage, but this tenuous connection made
Trennelgon
’s crew act toward him as if he were a famous relative. So much so that there was no time to think, or feel morbid, or do anything but respond to their friendly curiosity regarding
Rhabwar
and its rescue missions until he began yawning uncontrollably in their faces.

He was told that the trip would require only two Jumps and that they were estimating arrival in the Goglesk system in just under ten hours, after which he was reluctantly allowed to retire.

But when he stretched out on the narrow Service bunk, it was inevitable that he would start thinking of Murchison, who was not stretched out beside him. And his recollections were sharp and clear as they always were of anything they had said or done together, so that O’Mara’s memory-enhancing medication was superfluous.

She had begun by discussing the implications of Prilicla’s new appointment and the effect of Danalta’s shape-changing faculty on the established rescue procedures. Only gradually had she worked
the conversation around to Conway’s possible advancement to Diagnostician. It had been obvious that she was as reluctant to bring up the subject as Conway had been, but Murchison was less of a moral coward.

“Prilicla has no doubt about you making it,” he heard her saying again, “and neither have I. But if you were unable to adjust, or could not for some reason accept the position, it is still a high professional compliment to have been considered.”

Conway did not reply, and she turned toward him, raising herself on one elbow. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be gone for a few weeks, maybe months, and you’ll hardly even miss me.”

They both knew that was untrue. He looked up at her faintly smiling but concerned features and said, “As a Diagnostician I might not be the same person anymore. That’s what is worrying me. I might end up not feeling the same toward
you
.”

“I’ll make damned sure that you do!” she said fiercely. More quietly, she went on, “Thornnastor has been a Diagnostician for nearly thirty years. I’ve had to work very closely with it as my head of department, and apart from gossiping and purveying information on all and sundry on the sexual misdemeanors of every species on the hospital staff, no serious personality changes have been apparent to…”

“…A non-Tralthan like you,” Conway finished for her.

It was her turn to be silent. He went on. “A few years back I had a multiple carapacial fracture on a Melfan. It was a lengthy procedure, done in stages, so that I had the ELNT tape riding me for three days. The Melfans have a great appreciation of physical beauty, so long as the physique concerned is exoskeletal and has at least six legs.

“Assisting me was OR Nurse Hudson,” he continued. “You know Hudson? By the time the op was completed, I was much impressed with Hudson, and I and my Melfan alter ego were regarding her as a very pleasant personality, professionally most competent, but physically as a shapeless and unlovely bag of dough. I’m worried that—”

“Some members of her own species,” Murchison put in sweetly, “also regard Hudson as a shapeless and unlovely bag—”

“Now, now,” Conway said.

“I know, I’m being catty. I’m worried about that, too, and sorry that I cannot fully appreciate the problems you will be facing, because the Educator tapes are not for the likes of me.”

She drew her features into a mock scowl and tried to reproduce the deep, rasping voice of O’Mara at its most bitingly sarcastic as she went on. “Absolutely not, Pathologist Murchison! I am well aware that the Educator tapes would assist you in your work. But you and the other females or extraterrestrial female equivalents on the staff will have to continue using your brains, such as they are, unaided. It is regrettable, but you females have a deep, ineradicable and sex-based aversion, a form of hyperfastidiousness, which will not allow you to share your minds with an alien personality which is unaffected by your sexual…”

The effort of maintaining the bass voice became too much for her, and she broke into a fit of coughing.

Conway laughed in spite of himself, then said pleadingly, “But what should I, what should we,
do?
”

She placed her hand lightly on his chest and leaned closer. Reassuringly, she said, “It might not be as bad as we think. I cannot imagine anyone or anything changing you if you don’t want to be changed. You’re far too stubborn, so I suppose we have to give it a try. But right now we should forget it and get some sleep.”

She smiled down at him and added, “Eventually.”

He had been given the supernumerary’s position on the control deck—a courtesy not often offered to non-Service personnel—and was watching the main screen when
Trennelgon
emerged from hyperspace in the Goglesk system. The planet itself was a bluish, cloud-streaked globe similar in all respects, at this distance, to all the other worlds of the Federation which supported warm-blooded oxygen-breathing life. But Conway’s primary interest was in the world’s intelligent life-forms, and as diplomatically as possible he made that clear.

The Captain, an Orligian Monitor Corps Major called Sachan-Li, growled at him apologetically while its translator annunciated the words, “I’m sorry, Doctor. We know nothing of them, or of the planet itself beyond the perimeter of the landing area. We were
pulled off survey duty to take the available Goglesk language data to the master translator in Sector General for processing, and to bring you and the translator program back here.

“Having you on board, Doctor,” the Captain went on, “was a very welcome break in the monotony of a six-month mapping mission in Sector Ten, and I hope we didn’t give you too hard a time with all our questions.”

“Not at all, Captain,” Conway said. “Is the perimeter guarded?”

“Only by wire netting,” Sachan-Li replied. “To keep the non-intelligent grazers and scavengers from being cooked by our tail-blasts. The natives visit the base sometimes, I hear, but I’ve never seen one.”

Conway nodded, then turned to watch the screen where the major natural features of the planet were becoming visible. He did not speak for several minutes, because Sachan-Li and the other officers—a diminutive, red-furred Nidian and two Earth-humans—were engaged in the pre-landing checks. He watched as the world overflowed the edges of the screen and its surface changed gradually from being a vertical wall ahead of them to the ground below.

Trennelgon
, in its hypersonic glider configuration, shuddered its way through the upper atmosphere, slowing as it lost altitude. Oceans, mountains, and green and yellow grasslands swept past below them, still looking normal and familiar and Earth-like. Then the horizon dropped suddenly below the bottom edge of the screen. They climbed, lost velocity, and began dropping and decelerating tail-first for a landing.

“Doctor,” Sachan-Li said after they had touched down, “would you mind delivering this language program to the base commander? We are supposed to drop you and take off at once.”

“Not at all,” Conway said, slipping the package into a tunic pocket.

“Your personal gear is inside the air lock, Doctor,” the Captain said. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

They did not take off at once, but the heat from
Trennelgon
’s tail-flare as it took off half a mile behind him warmed the back of Conway’s neck. He continued walking toward the three closely grouped hemispheres which were the accommodation normally used for a non-permanent base with minimum personnel. He had
not taken a gravity float for his gear, because his belongings fitted easily into a backpack and a large handgrip, but the late evening sun was warm, and he decided to put down his grip for a moment and rest—the degree of urgency on this job, after all, was zero.

It was then that the strangeness hit him.

He looked down at the earth which was not of the Earth; at the grass which was subtly different from that of his home world; and at the undergrowth, wildflowers, vegetation, and distant trees which, although looking superfically similar, were the products of a completely different evolutionary process. He shivered briefly despite the heat as the feeling of
intrusion
which he always felt on these occasions washed over him, and he thought of the less-subtle differences which would soon become manifest in this world’s dominant life-form. He lifted the handgrip and began walking again.

When he was still a few minutes away from the largest of the three bubble buildings, its main entrance slid open and a figure came hurrying out to meet him. The man was wearing the uniform and insignia of a lieutenant in the Monitor Corps’s Cultural Contact section, and was capless—he was either a naturally sloppy person or one of the Corps’s academics who had little time for worrying about their uniforms or any other clothing they might be wearing. He was well built, with fair, receding hair and highly mobile features, and he spoke when they were still more than three meters apart.

“I’m Wainright,” he said quickly. “You must be the Sector General medic, Conway. Did you bring the language program?”

Conway nodded and reached into his tunic pocket with his left hand while proffering the right to the Lieutenant. Wainright drew back quickly.

“No, Doctor,” he said apologetically but firmly. “You must get out of the habit of shaking hands here, or of making any other kind of physical contact. It isn’t done on this planet, except in certain rare circumstances, and the natives find it, well, disquieting if they see us doing it. But that bag looks heavy. If you place it on the ground and move away, I’ll be happy to carry it for you.”

“I can manage, thanks,” Conway said absently. There were several questions lining up in his mind, jostling each other for priority in vocalization. He began to walk toward the bubble with the Lieu
tenant at his side, but still separated from him by a distance of three meters.

“That tape will be very useful, Doctor,” Wainright said. “Our translation computer should be able to handle the language now, with a lot fewer misunderstandings. But we weren’t expecting someone from Sector General to be sent out so quickly. Thanks for coming, Doctor.”

Conway waved away the thanks with his free hand and said, “Don’t expect me to solve your problem, whatever it is, as easily as all that. I’ve been sent here to observe the situation, and think about it, and…” He thought of the principal reason O’Mara had sent him to Goglesk, to think about his future at the hospital, but he did not feel like telling the Lieutenant about that just yet, so he ended, “…And to rest.”

Wainright looked at him sharply, his expression registering concern. But it was obvious that the Lieutenant was much too polite to ask Conway why a Senior Physician from the Federation’s largest hospital, where every conceivable medical and psychological treatment was available, had come here to rest.

Instead, he said, “Speaking of rest, Doctor, where were you on ship time? Is it after breakfast, the middle of your day, or long past your bedtime? Would you like to rest now? It is late afternoon here, and we can easily talk in the morning.”

Conway said, “I slept well and wakened less than two hours ago, and I want to talk now. In fact, if you don’t stop me asking questions, Lieutenant, it is you who are going to miss a lot of sleep.”

“I won’t stop you, Doctor.” Wainright laughed. “I don’t want to suggest that my assistants are not always entertaining people, or that their digital dexterity is sometimes used to influence the laws of probability while playing cards, but it will be nice having someone new to talk to. Besides, the natives disappear at sunset, and there is nothing to do except talk about them, and that hasn’t gotten us very far up until now.”

He entered the building in front of Conway. There was a narrow corridor inside with a nearby door which had the Lieutenant’s name on it. Wainright stopped in front of the door, looked quickly in both directions, and then asked Conway for the tape.

“Come in, Doctor,” he said then, sliding open the door and walking across the large office to a desk which had a translator terminal on its top. Conway looked around the office, which was lit by the warm, orange light of the near-to-setting sun. Most of the floor space was empty of furniture, with the desk, filing and retrieval systems, projection equipment, and even the visitors’ chairs crowded against the wall opposite to the window. Beside the window there was a large, dumpy cactuslike plant whose spikes and hair were richly colored in a pattern which seemed less random the more he looked at it.

He became aware of a faint odor coming from the planet, a smell which seemed to be a combination of musk and peppermint, and he moved across the office for a closer examination.