seeing the answer, magnified by the EGCL, was causing Prilicla’s wings to go
into the series of slow, rippling undulations which indicated intense pleasure
in a Cin-russkin. It also counteracted the aches which he and everyone else were
feeling from the pateint. He thought, What a weird experience the cultural
contact specialists were going to have with this species.
Aloud he said, “The process of reflecting and magnifying the feelings, hostile
or otherwise, of the people around them is a defense mechanism which would,
naturally, be at its most effective when the being is helpless, vulnerable, or
unconscious. With a return to consciousness the effect seems to diminish but
the empathic reflections are still strong. The result is that everyone around
them will have an empathic faculty not unlike Prilicla’s, and yet the EGCLs are
deaf to each other’s emotional radiation because they are transmitters only.
“Being like Prilicla,” he went on, looking across at the empath, “is something
of a mixed blessing. But the EGCL would be a nice perspn to have around if we
were having a good time — ”
“Control here,” the voice of the Captain broke in. “I have some information on
your patient’s species. Federation Archives have signaled the hospital to the
effect that this race — their name for themselves is the Duwetz — was contacted
briefly by an exploring Hudlar ship before the formation of the Galactic
Federation. Enough information was obtained for the basic Duwetz language to be
programmed into the present-day translation computers, but contact was severed
because of serious psychological problems among the crew. We are advised to
proceed with caution.”
“The patient,” Prilicla said suddenly, “is awake.”
Conway moved closer to the EGCL and tried to think positive, reassuring
thoughts toward it. He noted with relief that the biosensors and associated
monitors were indicating a weak but stable condition; that the damaged lung was
again working satisfactorily and the bandages immobilizing the two rejoined
appendages were firmly in position. The extensive suturing on the muscular apron
and ambulatory pad at the base were well up to Thornnastor and Edanelt’s high
standards, as were the deftly inserted staples which gleamed in neat rows where
the carapace fractures had been. Obviously the being was in considerable
discomfort in spite of the painkilling medication Thonnastor had synthesized for
its particular metabolism. But Pain was not the predominant feeling it was
transmitting, and rear and hostility were entirely absent.
Two of its three remaining eyes swiveled to regard them while the other one was
directed toward the viewport where Rector Twelve General Hospital, now almost
eight kilometers Aslant, blazed like some vast, surrealistic piece of jewelry
against the interstellar darkness. The feelings which washed -Tough them, so
intensely that they trembled or caught their breathss or rippled their fur, were
of curiosity and wonder.
“I’m not an organ mechanic like you people,” O’Mara said stiffly, “but I would
say that with this case the prognosis is favorable.”
The ambulance ship Rhabwar had mad the trip from Sector General to the scene of
the supposed disaster in record time and with a precision of astrogation, Conway
thought, which would cause Lieutenant Dodds to exhibit symptoms of cranial
swelling for many days to come. But as the information was displayed on the
Casualty Deck’s repeater screens, it became clear to the watching medical team
that this was not going to be a fast rescue—that this might not, in fact, be a
rescue mission at all.
The fully extended sensor net revealed no sign of a distressed ship, nor any
wreckage or components of such a ship. Even the finely divided, expanding cloud
of debris which would have indicated a catastrophic malfunction in the veseel’s
reactor was missing. All there was to be seen was the characteristic shape of a
dead and partially fused distress beacon at a distance of a few hundred meters
and, about three million kilometers beyond it, the bright crescent shape which
was one of this systems P!anets.
Major Fletcher’s voice came from the speaker. The Captain did not sound pleased.
“Doctor,” he said. “We cannot assume that this was a simple false alarm.
Hyperspace radio distress beacons are highly expensive hunks of machinery for
Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108