.
Fletcher had cleared a narrow path for himself to the open hatch. While they had
been talking they had heard his boots moving back and forth along the outer
hull, but for the past few minutes there had been silence.
“On the ground outside, Doctor,” Fletcher replied. “I’ve been trying to find the
best way of moving out the big one. In my opinion we can’t swing it down the
sides of the wreck, too much sprung plating and debris, and the stern isn’t much
better. We’ll have to lower it from the prow. But carefully. I jarred my ankles
badly when I jumped from it to the sand, which is only about an inch deep over a
gently sloping shelf of rock in that area. Obviously the big life-form needed a
special elevator to board and debark, because the extending ladder arrangement
below the hatch is usable only by the three smaller life-forms.
“I’m about to reenter the ship through the cargo hold hatch,” he ended. “Is
there a problem?”
“No, Captain,” Conway said. “But on your way here would you bring the cadaver
from the Dormitory Deck?”
Fletcher grunted assent and Murchison and Conway resumed their discussion with
Prilicla, stopping frequently to verify with their scanners the various points
raised. When the Captain arrived pushing the dead DCMH ahead of him, Conway had
just finished attaching an oxygen tank and breathing tube to the patient and
covering its head in a plastic envelope against the time when, during the night,
the entry hatch would be closed and the fumes produced by the cutting torch
against the metal and plastic debris might turn out to be even more toxic than
those from the hydraulic reservoir.
They took the cadaver from Fletcher and, holding it above their heads, fitted it
into one of the control couches designed for it. The big alien did not react and
they tried it in a second, then a third couch. This time the patient’s stub
tentacles began to twitch and one of them made contact with the DCMH. It
maintained the contact for several seconds then slowly withdrew and the big
entity became still again.
Conway gave a long sigh, then said, “It fits, it all fits. Prilicla, keep your
patients on oxygen and IV fluids. I don’t think they will return to full
consciousness until they have food as well, but the hospital can synthesize that
when we get back.” To Murchison he said, “All we need now is an analysis of the
stomach contents of that cadaver. But don’t do the dissection here, do it in the
corridor. It would probably, well, upset the Captain.”
“Not me,” Fletcher said, who was already at work with his cutting torch. “I
won’t even look.”
Murchison laughed and pointed to the patient hanging above them. She said, “He
was talking about the other Captain, Captain.”
Before Fletcher could reply, Haslam announced that he would be landing in
fifteen minutes.
“Better stay with the patient while I help the Captain load the lander,” Conway
told Murchison. “Radiate feelings of reassurance at it; that’s all we can do
right now. If we all left it might think it was being abandoned.”
“You intend leaving her here alone?” Fletcher said harshly.
“Yes, but there is no danger — ” Conway began, when the voice of Dodds
interrupted him.
“There is nothing moving within a twenty-mile radius of the wreck, sir,” he said
reassuringly, “except thorn patches.”
Fletcher said very little while they were helping Haslam move the casualties
from the outcropping into the lander and while they were pushing the litter with
its load of spare equipment to the wreck. It was unlike the Captain, who
usually spoke his mind no matter who or what was bothering him, to behave this
way. But Conway’s mind was too busy with other things to have time to probe.
“I was thinking,” Conway said when they reached the open cargo hatch, “that
according to Dodds the thorn patches are attracted to food and warmth. We are
going to create a lot of warmth inside the wreck, and there is a storage deck
filled with food containers as well. Suppose we move as much food as we can from