operation?”
“Yes,” she said.
Had it asked her if she wanted to perform the operation, Cha Thrat thought sadly
as she moved toward the cradle, the answer would have been different. Then,
jwith the incredibly sharp FROB Number Three cutter in her hand, she tried
again.
“What,” she asked quickly, “is my precise responsibility in this case?”
The Earth-human took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then said, “You are
responsible for the surgical removal of the patient’s left forelimb.”
“Is it possible to save this limb?” she asked hesitantly. “Can the circulation
be improved, perhaps by surgical enlargement of the blood vessels, or by—”
“No,” said Conway firmly. “Please begin.”
She made the initial incisions and proceeded exactly as the others had done,
without further hesitation or need of prompting by the Diagnostician. Knowing
what was to happen, she suppressed her fear and steadfastly refused to worry
about or feel the pain until the moment it would engulf her. She was utterly
determined now to show this strange, highly advanced but seemingly
nonre-sponsible medic how a truly dedicated warrior-surgeon of Sommaradva was
expected to behave.
As she was inserting the last few staples into the flap covering the stump, the
Diagnostician said warmly, “That was fast, precise, and quite exemplary work,
Cha Thrat. I am particularly impressed by— What are you doingT’She thought that
her intentions were obvious as soon as she lifted the Number Three cutter.
Sommaradvan DCNFs did not possess forelimbs as such but, she thought proudly,
the removal of a left-side medial limb would satisfy the professional
requirements of the situation. One quick, neat slice was enough, then she looked
at it lying in the container among the Hudlar limbs and gripped the stump
tightly to control the bleeding.
Her last conscious memory of the episode was ofDiagnostician Conway shouting
above the general uproar into the communicator.
“FROB lecture theater on the double,” it was saying urgently. “One DCNF, a
traumatic amputation, self-inflicted. Ready the OR on Level Forty-three, dammit,
and assemble a microsurgery team!”
Chapter 8
She could not be sure about the time required for her post-op recuperation, only
that there had been lengthy periods of unconsciousness and a great many visits
from Chief Psychologist O’Mara and Diagnosticians Thornnastor and Conway. The
DBLF nurse assigned to her made caustic comments about the special attention she
was receiving from the hospital’s hierarchy, the quantity of food she was moving
for a supposedly sick patient, and about a newly arrived Nidian trainee whose
furry little head had been turned by Cresk-Sar of all people. But when she tried
to discuss her own case it was obvious from the Kelgian nurse’s agitated fur
that that was a forbidden subject.
It did not matter because, by accident or design, the medication she was
receiving had the effect of making her feel as if her mind was some kind of
dirigible airship, moving at her direction but detached and floating free of all
mundane problems. It was, she realized, a very comfortable but suggestible
state.
During one of its later visits, O’Mara had suggested that, regardless of her
reasons for acting as she had, she had discharged her particularly strict
professional obligations, so that no further action was required on her part.
The limb had been completely severed and removed from the torso. The fact that
Conway and Thornnastor had together performed some very fancy microsurgery to
reattach it, with no loss of function or feeling, was a piece of good fortune
that she should accept gratefully and without guilt.
It had taken a long time to convince the wizard that she had already arrived at
the same conclusion, and that she was grateful, not only for her good fortune,
but to Diagnosticians Conway and Thornnastor for giving her back the limb. The
only part of the incident that continued to puzzle her, she had told O’Mara, was
the adverse reaction of everyone to the noble and praiseworthy thingshe had
done.
O’Mara had seemed to relax then, and it had proceeded with a long, devious spell
that involved subjects which Cha Thrat had considered too personal and sensitive
to be discussed with a fellow Sommaradvan, much less a stranger. Perhaps it was