White, James – Sector General 05 – Sector General

There was a moment’s silence, then the empath said, “I wider-stand, friend

Conway. But have you considered the fact that your suggestion will mean three

members of the medical team being on Rhabwar for a lengthy period and only one,

yourself, on the surface where medical assistance is most ur­gently needed? I

.am sure that, with the aid of the Casualty Deck’s handling devices and the

assistance of friends Haslam and Chen, I can cope with these patients.”

It was possible that Prilicla could cope with the patients provided they

remained unconscious. But if they came to sud­denly and reacted instinctively to

their strange and, to them, perhaps frightening surroundings, and to the giant

but incred­ibly fragile insect medic hovering over them, Conway shud­dered to

think of what might happen to the empath’s eggshell body and pipestem limbs.

Before he could reply, Prilicla was speaking again. .

“I am beyond the range of your emotional radiation, of course,” the empath said,

“but from long contact with the both of you I know of the strength of the

emotional bond between friend Murchison and yourself. This, taking into account

the strong possibility that there is a very dangerous life-form loose down

there, is undoubtedly a factor in your decision to send her to the safety of the

ship. But perhaps friend Murchison would suffer less emotional discomfort if she

remained with you.”

Murchison looked up from the casualty she was attending. “Is that what you were

thinking?”

“No,” Conway lied.

She laughed and said, “You heard that, Prilicla? He is a Person utterly lacking

in consideration and sensitivity. I should have married someone like you.”

“I am highly complimented, friend Murchison,” the empath Said. “But you have too

few legs.”

There was the sound of Fletcher clearing his throat disap­provingly at this

sudden and unseemly levity, but the Captain

did

not speak. He could no doubt appreciate as well as any of the need to relieve

fear tensions.

“Very well,” Con way said. “Pathologist Murchison will remain with her feet, and

too few legs, on Trugdil. Doctor Prilicla, you will keep Charge Nurse Naydrad

with you, since it will obviously be of greater assistance in preparing and

pre­senting the casualties for examination and treatment than would the Engineer

and Communications officer. Haslam or Dodds can return with the litter and

medical supplies which we will specify later. Questions?”

“No questions, friend Conway,” Prilicla said. “The lander is docking now.”

Murchison and Conway returned their full attention to the casualties. The

Captain was examining the hull of the wreck. They could hear him tapping at the

outer skin and making the metallic scraping noises characteristic of magnetic

sound sen­sors being moved across the surfaces. The wind kept changing direction

so that the casualties in the shadow of the outcropping were sheltered only from

the sun and not the wind-driven sand.

From Rhabwar Haslam reported that the area was being affected by a small, local

sandstorm which should clear before the lander returned in half an hour. He

added reassuringly that nothing was moving in the area except themselves and

several patches of ambulating thorn bushes, which would lose -a race against a

debilitated tortoise.

All but three of the casualties had been moved to the out­cropping, and while

Conway was bringing them in the pa­thologist was protecting the others from the

wind and sand by loosely wrapping them in transparent plastic sheets after first

attaching a small oxygen cylinder to each survivor. The tanks released a metered

quantity of gas calculated to satisfy the metabolic requirements of the entity

concerned. They had de­cided that encasing the casualties in makeshift oxygen

tents could do no harm since the pure oxygen would assist the weak respiration

and aid in the healing of the wounds, but with a completely new life-form one

could never be sure of anything. Certainly the treatment showed no sign of

returning any of the casualties to consciousness.

“The uniformly deep level of unconsciousness bothers me,” Murchison said as

Conway returned carrying, with difficulty, one of the large aliens they had

classified as DCOJ. “The level

does not bear any relation to the number or severity of the wounds. Could they

be in a state of hibernation?”