White, James – Sector General 07 – Code Blue Emergency

metaphysical authority?”

“Do you realize now how serious this is?” O’Mara went on in a tone of quiet

urgency. “Why did it tell you its name? What, exactly, was said between you?”

She could not speak for a moment because the patient had moved very close, so

close that she could see the individual points of its six rows of teeth. A

strangely detached and uncaring portion of her mind wonderedwhat evolutionary

imperative had caused the upper three rows to be longer than the lower set. Then

the jaw snapped shut with a boney crash that was muffled by the surrounding

water, and the caring part of her mind wondered what it would sound like if a

limb or her torso were between those teeth.

“Have you fallen asleep?” O’Mara snapped. “No,” she said, wondering why an

intelligent being had asked such a stupid question. “We talked because it was

lonely and unhappy. The other nurses were busy with a post-op patient and I was

not. I told it about Som-maradva and the circumstances that led to me coming

here, and some of the things I would be able to do if I qualified for Sector

General. It said that I was brave and resourceful, not sick and old and

increasingly fearful likeitself.

“It said that many times it dreamed of swimming free in the warm ocean of

Chalderescol,” she went on, “instead of this aseptic, water-filled box with its

plastic, inedible vegetation. It could talk about the home world to other AUGL

patients, but much of their post-op recovery time was spent under sedation. The

medical staff were pleasant to it and would talk, on the rare occasions when

they had time to do so. It said that it would never escape from the hospital,

that it was too old and frightened and sick.”

“Escape?” O’Mara said. “If our permanent patient has begun to regard the

hospital as a prison, that is a very healthy sign, psychologically. But go on,

what were you saying to it?”

“We spoke of general subjects,” she replied. “Our worlds, our work, our past

experiences, our friends and families, our opinions—”

“Yes, yes,” the Earth-human said impatiently, looking at One Sixteen, who was

edging closer. “I’m not inter-ested in the small talk. What did you say that

might have brought on this trouble?”

Cha Thrat tried to choose the words that would describe the situation concisely,

accurately, and briefly as she replied, “It told me about the space accident and

injuries that brought it here originally, and the continuing but irregular

episodes of pain that keep it here, and of its deep unhappiness with its

existence generally.

“I was uncertain of its exact status on Chalderescol,” she went on, “but from

the way it had described its work I judged it to be an upper-level warrior, at

least, if not a ruler. By that time we had exchanged names, so I decided to tell

it that the treatment being provided by the hospital was palliative rather than

curative, and it was being treated for the wrong sickness. I said that its

malady was not unknown to me and, although I was not qualified to treat the

condition, there were wizards on Sommaradva capable of doing so. I suggested, on

several occasions, that it was becoming institutionalized and that it might be

happier if it returned home.”

The patient was very close to them now. Its massive mouth was closed but not

still, because there was a regular chewing motion that suggested that the teeth

were grinding together. The movement was accompanied by a high-pitched, bubbling

moan that was both frightening and strangely pitiful.

“Go on,” O’Mara said softly, “but be very careful what you say.”

“There is little more to tell,” Cha Thrat said. “During our last meeting I told

it that I was leaving for a two-day rest period. It would speak only of the

wizards, and wanted to know if they could cure its fear as well as the pains. It

asked me as a friend to treat it, or send for one of our Sommaradvan brothers

who would be able to cureit. I told it that I had some knowledge of the spells