considered in another way, I, as a specialist member of the public, have
ultimate authority over people like yourselves who are public servants—”
Clearing his throat noisily, Fletcher said, “Please spare us the political
philosophy, Doctor. Do you wish me to get off a subspace signal to Sector base
requesting massive assistance because of a large number of widely scattered
potential survivors of a hitherto unknown life-form?”
“That’s it,” said Conway. “And would you also take charge of assigning search
areas to the scoutships if and when they arrive? In the meantime we’ll do as
Prilicla suggests, except that Murchison and I will go in Tyrell, if that is
agreeable to you, Captain.”
“A pleasure,” said Nelson, looking at Murchison.
“Because your crew aren’t used to our fragile friend scampering about on their
ceilings and there might be an accident,” he continued. “But right now we’ll
need help to transfer some of our portable equipment to your ship.”
While their gear was being moved to the scoutship and Conway was trying hard to
keep Murchison from transferring the Casualty Deck’s diagnostic and treatment
equipment in toto, Tyrell’s portable airlock was detached from the alien vessel
and restowed on board in case it would be needed on one of the other widely
scattered sections. Several times as they worked, Rhabwar’s lighting and gravity
control fluctuated in momentary overload, indicating that Conway’s subspace
signal was going out.
He knew that Fletcher was keeping the signal as brief as possible because the
power required to punch a message through
the highly theoretical medium of subspace from a vessel of Rhabwar’s relatively
small size would have Lieutenant Chen in the Power Room chewing his nails. Even
so, that signal would be splattered with interstellar static and have audible
holes blown through it by every intervening cloud of ionized gas, star, or
quasistellar object, and for that reason the message had been speeded up many
times and repeated so that the people at the receiving end would be able to
piece together a normal-speed coherent message from the jumble reaching them.
But their response to the signal was an entirely different matter, Conway
thought worriedly. Despite his seeming confidence before the others, he did not
know what would happen because this was the first time he had made such a
request.
Nelson had invited Murchison and Conway to Control so that they could observe
Tyrell’s approach to the second section of alien space station to be
investigated, and so that his crew could observe the pathologist. Since the
subspace signal had gone out six hours earlier, the Captain had been regarding
Conway with a mixture of anxiety and awe as if he did not know whether the
Doctor was seriously self-deluded or a highly potent individual indeed.
The messages which erupted from his Control Room speaker shortly afterward, and
which continued with only a few minutes’ break between them for the best part
of the next hour, resolved his doubts but left him feeling even more confused.
“Scoutship Tedlin to Rhabwar. Instructions please.”
“Scoutship Tenelphi to Rhabwar, requesting reassignment instructions.”
“Scoutship Torrance, acting flotilla leader. I have seven units and eighteen
more to follow presently. You have work for us, RhabwarT’
Finally Nelson muted the speaker and the sound of Captain Fletcher assigning
search areas to the newly arrived scoutships, which were being ordered to search
for sections of the alien space station and bring them to the vicinity of
Rhabwar. With so much help available, Fletcher had decided that the ambulance
ship would not itself join in the search but would instead remain by the first
section to coordinate the operation and give medical assistance. Confident that
the situation was under con-
trol, Conway relaxed and turned to face Captain Nelson, whose curiosity had
become an almost palpable thing.
“You—you are just a doctor, Doctor?” he said.
“That’s right, Captain,” Murchison said before Conway could reply. She laughed
and went on, “And stop looking at him like that, you’ll give him an inflated
sense of his own importance.”
“My colleagues are constantly on guard against the possibility of that
happening,” Conway said dryly. “But Pathologist Murchison is right. I am not
important, nor are any of the Monitor Corps officers or the medical team on