“Until it died,” said Horrantor in a voice that seemed too soft and low for it to be coming from such a massive creature. “A sad story.”
“No it isn’t,” said Hewlitt. “I nursed it until it was better. Next morning it was walking about good as new, and butting my ankles to be fed. My parents could not believe it, but my father said that cats had nine lives, that is an old Earth saying based on the fact that they have great agility and sense of balance and rarely fall, and that this one must have used all of them at once. I suppose it died eventually of old age.”
“A sad story with a happy ending,” said Bowab. “That is the kind I like best.”
“Are we going to talk about furry pets,” said Morredeth, its fur tufting into strange, uneven spikes and waves that might have denoted anger or impatience or something else entirely, “or play scremman?”
The question answered itself as Horrantor began to deal. Hewlitt tried to placate the Kelgian, who for some reason did not like him talking about cats. He said, “The reason I brought up the subject of my pet, and especially its fur, was that I was thinking about the unfairness of my not being able to read other-species expressions. Horrantor and Bowab do not show any changes of expression that I can detect, and Morredeth shows far too many for me to read. Perhaps I will learn to do it in time, but right now it is Morredeth who should be complaining about unfairness because you two have had longer to observe its fur movements than I have.”
“Patient Hewlitt,” Morredeth broke in, its fur rippling and tufting as if there were a strong wind blowing along the ward, “you will not learn to read my feelings no matter how long we are here. Even another Kelgian would have trouble doing that.”
The game continued in a disapproving silence and Hewlitt knew that he had said the wrong thing again.
CHAPTER 12
The thought of what that wrong thing might have been, and how he could avoid repeating the mistake, was still in Hewlitt’s mind when the game was halted by the Hudlar nurse telling them to return to their beds for the evening medication round and, hopefully, to sleep. The other three players passed his bed, Morredeth without speaking, on their way to and from the bathroom, but he did not talk to any of them about it in case he made matters worse. He was not being given any medication, which meant that he would be visited last.
The Hudlar nurse had only to check the sensor connections to his medical monitor and would have nothing more to do, barring emergencies, until its next round of observing sleeping patients in another two hours. Ahead of it stretched a long spell of night duty during which, he hoped, its boredom and his curiosity could be relieved by a few questions.
“Try not to use the viewscreen tonight,” it said. “Charge Nurse Leethveeschi tells me that you’ve had enough excitement for one day. Playing scremman makes the time pass quickly and I’m glad that you are making other-species’ friends. But now you must sleep.”
“I’ll try, Nurse,” he said. “But there is something worrying me.”
“Is there pain?” it said, moving quickly to the bedside. “Your monitor is registering optimum life-sign levels for a healthy DBDG. Please describe the symptoms. Be as specific as you can.”
“Sorry, Nurse, I misled you,” he said. “It has nothing to do with my physical condition. During the day I offended another patient, the Kelgian, Morredeth, but I don’t know what it was that I said or did that was offensive. We were playing scremman and the other two seemed to be trying to tell me nonverbally to stop whatever it was I was doing or saying. I would like to know what it was I was doing wrong so that I will know not to do it again and, if it was serious, to apologize.”
Even though it had no features that he could identify, the nurse appeared to relax. It said, “I don’t think this is anything to worry about, Patient Hewlitt. During a game of scremman that lasted for many hours, as I have been told yours did, the exchange of insulting and critical words is a common occurrence … ”
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