White, James – Sector General 05 – Sector General

since the rescue. He felt as though every bone and muscle in his body was

aching. The rescue and transfer of the survivor to Rhabwar had required intense

muscular activity, followed by a three-hour emergency op, and another hour

sit­ting still in Control. No wonder he felt stiff.

Try to think about something else, Conway told himself firmly. He exercised

briefly to ease his cramped muscles but the dull, unlocalized aching persisted.

Angrily he wondered if he was becoming a hypochondriac.

“Subspace radio transmission in five seconds,” the muted voice of Lieutenant

Haslam said from the cabin speaker. “Ex-Pect the usual fluctuations in the

lighting and artificial gravity systems.”

As the cabin lights flickered and the deck seemed to twitch under his feet,

Conway was forced to think of something else— specifically, the problems

encountered in transmitting intelli-Sence over interstellar distances compared

with the relative simplicity of sending a distress signal.

Just as there was only one known method of traveling faster wan light, there was

only one way of calling for help when an accident left a ship stranded between

the stars. Tight-beam subspace radio could rarely be used in emergency

conditions

since it was subject to interference from intervening stellar material and

required inordinate amounts of a vessel’s power— power which a distressed ship

was unlikely to have available. But a distress beacon did not have to carry

intelligence.’ It was simply a nuclear-powered device which broadcast its

location, a subspace scream for help which ran up and down the usuable

frequencies until it died, in a matter of a few hours. And on I this occasion it

had died amid a cloud of wreckage containing one survivor who was very lucky

indeed to be alive.

But considering the extent of the being’s injuries, Conway thought, it could not

really be described as lucky. Mentally shaking himself loose of these

uncharacteristically morbid feel­ings, he went down to the Casualty Deck to

check on« the patient’s condition.

Typed as physiological classification EGCL, the survivor was a warm-blooded,

oxygen-breathing life-form of approximately twice the body weight of an adult

Earth-human. Visually it resembled an outsize snail with a high, conical shell

which was pierced around the tip where its four extensible eyes were I located.

Equally spaced around the base of the shell were eight triangular slots from

which projected the manipulatory appen­dages. The carapace rested on a thick,

circular pad of muscle I which was the locomotor system. Around the

circumference of the pad were a number of fleshy projections, hollows and slits

associated with its systems of ingestion, respiration, elimination,

reproduction, and nonvisual sensors. Its gravity and atmospheric pressure

requirements had been estimated but, because of its severely weakened condition,

the artificial gravity I setting had been reduced to assist the heart and the

pressure increased so that decompression effects would not aggravate the

bleeding.

As Conway stood looking down at the terribly injured EGCL, Pathologist Murchison

and Charge Nurse Naydrad joined him at the pressure litter. It was the same

litter which had been I used to move the casualty from the wreck, and, because

the patient should not be subjected to unnecessary movement,- it would be used

again to transfer the EGCL into the hospital. The only difference was that for

the second trip the casualty had been tidied up.

In spite of his considerable experience with spacewreck casualties of all

shapes, sizes, and physiological classifications, Conway winced at the memory of

what they had found. The compartment containing the EGCL had been spinning

rapidly when they discovered it, and the being had been rolling about inside and

demolishing furniture and equipment with its massive body for many hours before

it had lodged itself in a corner under some self-created debris.

In the process its carapace had sustained three fractures, one of which was so

deeply depressed that the brain had been involved. One of the eyes was missing,

and two of the thin, tentacular manipulators had been traumatically severed by

sharp-edged obstructions—these limbs had been retrieved and preserved for

possible rejoining—and there were numerous punc­tured and incised wounds to the

base pad.

Apart from carrying out the emergency surgery to relieve some of the cranial

pressure, controlling the major areas of bleeding with clamps and temporary

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