No, not mouth-to-mouth, he thought desperately, you’re a bloody chlorine-breather … .
CHAPTER 6
The sight of the procession that was emerging from the nurses station brought all other activity and conversations in the ward to a halt. It was led by Senior Physician Medalont, followed by Charge Nurse Leethveeschi, his nameless Hudlar nurse, and a Kelgian and a Nidian intern who were guiding a float containing the multispecies resuscitation equipment between them, and an Earthhuman wearing a green Monitor Corps uniform who brought up the rear. Inevitably they traveled the full length of the ward to gather in a semicircle around his bed.
Coming close to death five hours earlier had not made him feel any less fearful of ETs, nor had it improved his disposition one little bit.
“What the hell are you going to do to me this time?” he said.
“Nothing that I haven’t already done,” the senior physician replied in a voice that might have been reassuring to another Melfan. “Do not be concerned; I am simply withdrawing another blood sample. Please bare your upper arm.
The Kelgian intern looked at its Nidian colleague, its silvery fur tufting into spikes. It edged the resuscitation trolley closer and added, “If you do nothing, Patient Hewlitt, then neither will we.”
One of the things he had learned from his few brief conversations with the Kelgian patient in the adjoining bed was that members of that species were incapable of telling a lie. To another Kelgian, the continuous, subtle, and expressive movements of their silvery fur displayed what they were feeling and thinking from moment to moment, like a form of visual telepathy; so they did not know or understand the meaning of the word. They had the same difficulty with concepts like tact, politeness, diplomacy, and bedside manners.
Once again Hewlitt felt the tiny circle of metal pressed against his skin. Medalont said, “The instrument currently in contact with your arm contains one very fine, short, recessed needle whose entry you will not feel, and another that is longer and slightly thicker. The first one injects a local anesthetic which desensitizes the underlying nerve endings, and the second withdraws the blood. Good, here it comes. Thank you, Patient Hewlitt. How do you feel?”
“Fine,” Hewlitt replied. “How am I supposed to feel?”
Medalont ignored the question and said, “Are you aware of any changes of sensation, however small, anywhere within your body?”
“No,” he said.
“Any feeling of discomfort in the chest or arms,” it went on, “or difficulty with breathing? Tingling or loss of sensation in the extremities? Headache?”
“No,” said Hewlitt. “There is a numb patch where you took the blood. It feels the same as last time.”
“If present,” said Medalont, “the symptoms would be minor, an early warning of possible trouble to come. They could be so minor, in fact, that you may be unsure whether or not you are imagining them.”
“So far as I know,” said Hewlitt, making an effort to control his temper, “I have no minor, imaginary symptoms.”
The Earth-human in the green uniform smiled briefly and resumed doing and saying nothing.
“Have you any nonphysical symptoms?” Medalont persisted. “An anxiety or fear, perhaps, that could intensify to the point where it might cause stress on the physical level? I realize that I am moving into Lieutenant Braithwaite’s territory, but…”
“You are,” said the uniformed man, speaking for the first time. “But feel free, everyone else does.”
Before the senior physician could reply, Hewlitt said, “If you mean am I worried then yes, I feel worried, very worried. Until I came to this place I never had a heart attack, but I don’t think I feel bad enough to frighten myself into another one.”
“Were you feeling frightened before the first one?” asked Medalont.
“No, just sleepy and relaxed,” said Hewlitt. “But right now I’m scared.”
“We won’t allow anything to happen to you this time,” said Medalont, “so try not to worry.”
For what seemed like a very long time there was silence from everyone. Leethveeschi’s body pulsed slowly inside its chlorine envelope, the Hudlar’s speaking membrane remained still, the Kelgian’s fur was rippling along its body as if blown by an unfelt wind while its Nidian partner checked the equipment on the resuscitation float, and Medalont opened and closed its pincers once every few seconds like some kind of silent, organic metronome. It was the senior physician who spoke first.