underbelly in a direction they were not, perhaps, designed to bend, and he hated
to think of what the dust and dirt adhering to the plastic might be doing to
that open wound.
The same thought must have been going through the Orligian’s head, because it
said, “Maybe we’ll find another Kelgian who isn’t too badly hurt and knows what
to do.”
But it was a long time before they found another Kelgian— at least, it felt like
an hour even though the big and, strangely, still-functioning lounge clock,
whose face was divided into concentric rings marked off in the time units of the
major Federation worlds, insisted that it-was only ten minutes.
One of the Hudlars had lifted wreckage from two of the crablike Melfans, one of
whom was coherent, seemingly uninjured but unable to see because of the
chlorine or dust. Graw-lya-Ki spoke reassuringly to it and led it away by
grasping a thick, fleshy projection, purpose unknown, growing from its
head. The other Melfan made loud, untranslatable noises. Its carapace was
cracked in several places and of the three legs which should have supported it
on one side, two were limp and useless and one was missing altogether.
MacEwan bent down quickly and slipped his hands and lower arms under the edge of
the carapace between the two useless legs and lifted until the body was at its
normal walking height. Immediately the legs on the other side began moving
slowly. MacEwan sidled along at the same pace, supporting the injured side and
guiding the Melfan around intervening wreckage until he was able to leave it
beside its blinded colleague.
He could think of nothing more to do for it, so he rejoined the Hudlar
excavating among the heavier falls of debris.
They uncovered three more Melfans, injured but ambulatory, who were directed to
the boarding tunnel entrance, and a pair of the elephantine, six-legged
Tralthans who appeared to be uninjured but were badly affected by the gas which
was still leaking steadily from the transporter. MacEwan and Graw-lya-Ki each
held a Nidian breathing mask to one breathing orifice and yelled at them to
close the other. Then they tried desperately not to be trampled underfoot as
they guided the Tralthans to the casualty assembly point. Then they uncovered
two more of the Kelgian caterpillars, one of whom had obviously bled to death
from a deep tear in its flank. The other had five of its rearmost sets of legs
damaged, rendering it immobile, but it was conscious and able to cooperate by
holding its body rigid while they carried it back to the others.
When MacEwan asked the being if it could help the earlier Kelgian casualty he
had tried to bandage, it said that it had no medical training and could think of
nothing further to do.
There were more walking, wriggling, and crawling wounded released from the
wreckage to join the growing crowd of casualties at the tunnel entrance. Some
of them were talking but most were making loud, untranslatable noises which had
to be of pain. The sounds made by the casualties still trapped by fallen
wreckage were slight by comparison.
The Hudlars were working tirelessly and often invisibly in a cloud of
self-created dust, but now they seemed to be un-
covering only organic wreckage of which there was no hope of salvage. There was
another Kelgian who had bled spectacularly to death; two, or it may have been
three, Melfans with crushed and shattered carapaces and broken limbs, and a
Tral-than who had been smashed flat by a collapsing roof beam and was still
trying to move.
MacEwan was afraid to touch any of them in case they fell apart in his hands,
but he could not be absolutely sure that they were beyond help. He had no idea
of their ability to survive major injury, or whether specialized medical
intervention could save them if taken in time. He felt angry and useless and the
chlorine was beginning to penetrate his face mask.
“This being appears to be uninjured,” the Hudlar beside them said. It had lifted
a heavy table from a Tralthan who was lying on its side, its six massive legs