It paused for a moment. When nobody spoke, it added, “My own sexual needs have, I believe, been sublimated to my lifelong dedication to the profession of healing minds. While I will be the only member of my species in Sector General, the mechanics of Cemmeccan sex are such that I do not believe that I would ever be tempted to experiment sexually with the members of other species…”
“Thank God for that,” said Lioren softly.
“… so that now and in the future,” it went on, “my entire mind, indeed my entire physical and mental output, will be devoted solely to the work of this hospital.”
O’Mara stared at Cerdal for a few seconds while the Cemmeccan stared back. He was quite happy to let Lioren make the running.
“You will realize, Dr. Cerdal,” said the Padre, “that your other-species experience is grossly inadequate for the duties you will be called on to perform here, and that you will need training if you are to have any hope of performing them to the standard required. This interview is not in itself of major importance. Much more depends on the assessment of your psychological reactions, general proficiency in dealing with patients whose minds are beyond anything in your previous experience, and the control or lack of it of your xenophobia on the conscious and unconscious levels during training.”
“I understand,” said Cerdal. It was still looking at O’Mara.
“Your training,” Lioren continued, “will be given principally by what you may consider to be the subordinate members of this department, Braithwaite, Cha Thrat, and myself. We will be advising and more often as not criticizing and telling you where you went wrong. Will you have a problem with that?”
“No,” said the Cemmeccan. “At least, not until my training is complete and my appointment to the job is confirmed. Then I may have critical words of my own to say. But I must repeat my earlier question.”
“Go on,” said Lioren.
Obviously choosing its words with care and with its attention still focused on O’Mara, Cerdal continued, “I am being considered for the most senior and responsible position in the hospital. Why then is this interview being conducted not by the present incumbent but by underlings? To a person of my high professional standing I find this demeaning, even insulting, unless there is a very good reason or excuse for your behavior. Bearing in mind the grey coloration of your head fur, is it possible that you are no longer capable of performing your duties adequately and require more youthful assistance? This would be a completely acceptable excuse.”
Beside him Cha Thrat and Lioren were still as statues, and on the communicator he could hear Braithwaite making noises which suggested that someone was strangling him. All of them were waiting for a verbal explosion of nuclear proportions, but O’Mara had a contrary streak that delighted in doing the unexpected.
He smiled and said, “A possibility you have not considered, Dr. Cerdal, is that I am conducting not one interview but four, and that my assistants, unknown to themselves until this moment, are your fellow candidates for the job.”
Before anyone could speak, O’Mara raised a hand and looked at each of them in turn. He said, “Spare me your token protestations of inadequacy. False modesty makes me sick. Your experience with this department’s work makes all of your prime candidates as my replacement, as do your qualifications in medicine. The fact that the lieutenant’s medical knowledge is rusty from disuse, and Cha Thrat is not allowed to practice here, and Lioren, for personal reasons, has forbidden itself to practice, is unimportant. The administrator will not be expected to treat patients.
Cha Thrat, Padre,” he continued briskly, “I know exactly how much you have to do. Continue doing it. Braithwaite, free some time to show Dr. Cerdal around what it hopes will be its future empire. And remember, I will be watching and from time to time testing all of you. Your future promotion depends on your increased levels of professional competence, behavior under stress, and my own personal whim…”
He allowed his face to crack into one of its rare smiles.
“… not necessarily in that order of importance,” he ended. “Your preliminary interviews are over. You may go.”