environmentally suitable position—either a planet or the hold of a rescue
ship—whereupon it would blow the hatch fastenings and crawl out. But there are
no hatch fastenings that I can see and the rim structure surrounding the
hatches, if that is what they are, would not allow them to be blown open.
Neither can they be opened inward because the diameter of the inner, pressurized
hull is much smaller than that of the endplates.”
Fletcher shook his head in bafflement and ended, “I’m sorry, Doctor. Right now I
can see no way for you to get to your survivor without cutting its ship apart.
What I need is another piece of this jigsaw puzzle to examine, a broken piece
which will let me see how the other undamaged pieces were put together.”
There was silence for a few seconds, during which Prilicla trembled in sympathy
with the Captain’s embarrassment, then Murchison spoke.
“I would like to examine a broken piece as well,” she said quietly.
“Specifically, a piece containing a nonsurvivor which would let me see how our
survivor is put together.”
Con way turned to Dodds. “Are there many pieces which look as if they had been
broken up?”
“A few,” replied the astrogator. “Most of the traces give
sensor readings similar to the first piece. That is, a vehicle of similar mass
retaining internal pressure and containing a small power source. All of the
pieces, including the few damaged ones, are at extreme sensor range. It is a
long way to go on impulse drive, but if we jumped through hyperspace we would
probably overshoot.”
“How many pieces altogether?” asked Nelson.
“Twenty-three solid traces so far,” said Dodds, “plus a few masses of what
appears to be loose, structural debris. There is also one largish mass,
unpressurized and radioactive, which I’d guess was part of a power center.”
From its position on the ceiling, Prilicla said, “If I might make a suggestion,
and if Major Nelson is willing to interrupt his survey mission… ?”
Nelson laughed suddenly and the other Corps officers present smiled. With great
feeling he went on, “There isn’t a scout-ship crew on survey duty anywhere in
the Galaxy who would not rather be doing something, anything, else! You only
have to ask and give me half an excuse for accepting, Doctor.”
“Thank you, friend Nelson,” said the empath with a slow tremor of pleasure. “My
suggestion is that Rhabwar and Tyrell act independently to seek out other
survivors and return them to this area, using tractor beams if the distance is
short enough for impulse drive or by extending the hyperspace envelopes to
include them if a Jump is necessary. My empathic faculty enables me to identify
sections containing living occupants and, because of the large mass of these
beings, Doctor Krach-Yul and Nurse Naydrad should accompany me to assist with
treatment, should this be possible. Pathologist Murchison and you, friend
Conway, are well able to identify living casualties by more orthodox means if
the ship’s sensors are uncertain.
“This will halve the time needed to search for other survivors,” Prilicla ended
apologetically, “even though the period will still be a lengthy one.”
Tyrell’s medical officer spoke for the first time, its whining and barking
speech translating as “1 always assumed that a space rescue by ambulance ship
would be a fast, dramatic, and decisive operation. This one appears to be
disappointingly slow.”
“1 agree, Doctor,” said Conway. “We need help if this job is not to take months
instead of a few days. Not one scoutship
but a flotilla, or better yet a squadron of them to search the entire—”
Captain Nelson began to laugh, then broke off when he saw that Conway was
serious. He said, “Doctor, I’m just a major in the Monitor Corps and so is
Captain Fletcher. We haven’t got the rank to whistle up a flotilla of scoutships
no matter how much you think we need them. All we can do is explain the
situation and put in a very humble request.”
Fletcher looked at his fellow Captain and opened his mouth to speak, then
changed his mind.
Conway smiled and said, “I am a civilian, Captain, with no rank at all. Or