“Which is?” O’Mara broke in again, this time making no attempt to conceal his impatience. If there was anything he disliked, it was having to repeat a simple question.
The other hesitated, forced a smile, then said, “The good news is that your appointment will be temporary. It will last only for as long as it takes for you to select, evaluate, and fully train your successor.”
For a moment there were so many excited, other-species voices speaking at once that his translator was making the derisive beeping sound that signaled input overload. O’Mara did not speak until everyone was quiet again.
“And the bad news?” he said.
Skempton looked very uncomfortable, but his voice was steady as he replied, “You have given exemplary service to this hospital for a very long time, Major, or I should say, ex-Major O’Mara. I fully agree with the majority of the Medical Council who say that, in the early years especially, it could not have functioned without you. But choosing and grooming your successor to a level of excellence that is as close as possible to your own may well be the most important and professionally challenging project you will ever undertake. And when you have completed it to your own satisfaction…”
The colonel paused. When he went on, his expression, O’Mara thought, showed an odd mixture of reluctance, sympathy, and deep anxiety, as if he was experiencing both sorrow and the expectation of an imminent emotional eruption.
“Well, Administrator O’Mara,” he ended awkwardly, “I have already said that you have served this hospital for a very long time. As soon as you have completed this assignment, you will be required to leave and take your long-overdue retirement.”
CHAPTER 2
O’Mara remained silent for the rest of the meeting and left for his quarters before any of those who had waited behind could congratulate or commiserate with him on his promotion and forced retirement, but he knew that his bad manners would be considered entirely in character. Although he had shown no outward reaction to his sudden elevation and limited future in Sector General, the news had shaken him badly. A certainty that had supported his entire professional life was to be taken away from him and, as soon as possible, he needed to settle down for a lengthy period of reappraisal. As the hospital’s administrator his authority was such that he could absent himself for as long as he thought necessary for him to come to terms with a major problem that was both professional and emotional, but as the chief psychologist he could not spare the time right now.
He remained in his rooms only long enough to remove the insignia of rank from his uniform. As he did so he realized for the first time that, apart from a few sleep suits, he did not have anything to wear that was not Monitor Corps issue.
On the way to his office he scarcely noticed the pre-lunch crowd of multi-species medical and maintenance staff thronging the corridors leading to the dining hall. The heavyweight Tralthans and Hudlars and the species driving environmental protection vehicles, and the Melfans, whose wide-spreading, bony limbs could cause painful bruising of the shins, he avoided as a matter of long habit, and the smaller life-forms he ignored because they avoided him. Even the species who said that they couldn’t tell one Earth-human from another knew the green-clad being with the grey head fur as the chief psychologist. He did not speak to any of them, and they knew better than to speak to him unless an emotional emergency of some kind was involved.
Padre Lioren and Cha Thrat were still at lunch, so Braithwaite was alone in the outer office.
“I heard about your appointment a few minutes ago,” said the lieutenant. He stood up quickly behind his console and smiled, but he knew better than to try to shake hands. “Congratulations, sir.”
O’Mara wasn’t surprised. The hospital grapevine was an extremely rapid, if not always accurate, channel of communication. He scowled.
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” he said. “I won’t allow my new eminence to change me in any way. And you don’t have to call me ‘sir’ anymore. As a civilian it is a courtesy I no longer expect.”