White, James – Sector General 05 – Sector General

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