“If you don’t resign,” the Senior Physician went on, “it may well be that you
will discover firsthand the answer to the question you asked me this morning on
the recreation level.”
Cha Thrat remembered that question very well, and the amusement it had caused
among the tutor’s friends. She also remembered her initial feelings of shock and
shame when her duties as a trainee nurse had been explained to her. Nothing
could be more demeaning for a warrior-surgeon than that, she had thought at the
time, but she had been wrong.
“I am still ignorant of the laws governing the hospi-tal,” she said. “But 1
realize that I have transgressed them in some fashion and must therefore accept
the consequences. I shall not take the easy option.”
O’Mara sighed and said, “It is your decision, ChaThrat.”
Before she could reply, the Nidian Senior Physician was talking again. “Putting
it into Maintenance would be a criminal waste,” the tutor protested. “It is the
most promising trainee in its class. If we were to wait until the Hredlichli
outcry died down, or until the grapevine is overloaded with another scandal, you
might be able to find a ward that would take it for a trial period and—”
“Enough,” O’Mara said, visibly relenting. “I don’t believe in having second
thoughts because the first are usually right. But I’m tired and hungry and I,
too, have had enough of your trainee.
“There is such a ward,” it went on. “FROB Geriatric, which is chronically
understaffed and may be desperate enough to accept Cha Thrat. It is not a ward
where I would normally assign a trainee who is not of the patients’ own species,
but I shall speak to Diagnostician Conway about it at the first opportunity.
“Now go away,” it ended sourly, “before I cast a spell consigning both of you to
the center of the nearest whitedwarf.”
As they were heading for the dining hall, Cresk-Sar said, “It’s a tough ward
and, if anything, the work is even harder than a job in Maintenance. But you can
say whatever you like to the patients and nobody will mind. Whatever else
happens, you can’t get into troublethere.”
The Nidian’s words were positive and reassuring, butits voice carried undertones
of doubt.
Chapter 7
She was given two extra days off duty, but whether they were a reward for her
help with AUGL-One Sixteen or because it took that long for O’Mara to arrange
for her transfer to FROB Geriatric, Cresk-Sar would not say. She paid three
lengthy visits to One Sixteen in the AUGL ward, during which her reception was
enough to turn its tepid water to ice, but she would not risk returning to the
recreation level or exploring the hospital. There was less chance of getting
into trouble if she stayed in her room and watched the teaching channels.
Tarsedth pronounced her certifiably insane and wondered why O’Mara had not
confirmed this diagnosis.
Two days later she was told to present herself at FROB Geriatric in time for
morning duty and to make herself known to the DBLF nurse in charge. Cresk-Sar
said that it would not need to introduce her on this occasion because Charge
Nurse Segroth, and probably every other being on the hospital staff, would have
heard all about her by now. That may have been the reason why, on her
meticulously punctual arrival, she was given no opportunity to speak.
“This is a surgical ward,” Segroth said briskly, indicating the banks of
monitors occupying three walls of the Nurses’ Station. “There are seventy Hudlar
patients and 90a nursing staff of thirty-two counting yourself. All the nurses
are warm-blooded oxygen-breathers of various species, so you will not need
environmental protection other than a gravity compensator and nasal filters. The
FROBs are divided into pre- and post-op patients, segregated by a light- and
soundproof partition. Until you learn your way around you will not concern
yourself, or go anywhere near, a post-op patient.”
Before Cha Thrat had time to say that she understood, the Kelgian ran on. “We
have an FROB trainee and classmate here who will, I’m sure, be happy to answer
any questions you are afraid to ask me.”