“O’Mara,” she said quietly, “what the hell is bothering you?”
He forced a laugh that sounded hollow even to himself and said, “You mean, apart from you?”
She shook her head impatiently. “Unfortunately,” she said, “I don’t bother you, at least not very much. You’ve hardly taken your eyes off Kledenth since it arrived. Why?”
He hesitated and tried to choose words which would sound neither egocentric nor too critical of the ship doctor’s ability, which, he felt sure, would in ordinary circumstances have been adequate. O’Mara was a layman, after all, and not supposed to know anything about the subject. But he did know a lot about Kelgian physiology, every bit as much as his mind partner and top medical specialist knew, and he would be in serious trouble if he told anyone else how he knew it, because the Marrasarah mind tape should have been erased. The trouble was that when a Kelgian was apparently sharing his mind, it was very difficult to lie.
“Sennelt is a good enough doctor,” he said. “What worries me is that it might not know enough about Kelgian anatomy.”
“And you do?”
“Yes,” he said.
She frowned at him for a moment, then said seriously, “Apart from a few hints about space construction work, for which you certainly have the muscles, you’ve been reticent about what exactly it is that you do. Are you a medic, or were you once a medic, but for some reason want to hide that fact?”
He shook his head. “I have no formal medical qualifications.”
“But you think you know enough about other-species first aid,” she went on, “to second-guess the ship’s medical officer? What the hell do you do, exactly?”
O’Mara wished again that there weren’t a truth-telling Kelgian influencing so much of his mind.
“I’m a psychologist,” he said.
She sat back suddenly in her chair, her face reddening with anger and embarrassment. After a moment she said, “And in the way of psychologists, you have been calmly and clinically observing my behavior while I was trying to, to make a fool of myself over you?”
O’Mara shook his head and held her eyes for a long moment, then said quietly, “I was observing myself, not very calmly nor clinically, trying not to make a fool of myself over you.”
She continued to stare at him without speaking, but her angry color was slowly returning to normal.
Apologetically, he went on, “I should have told you, I suppose. But I’m on leave and, well, nobody needed to know.” He smiled. “If it helps you feel any better about if, I’m an other-species psychologist.”
“An other-species…?” she began, then laughed quietly. “I think that makes me feel worse! But it explains your concern for Kledenth. Are you diagnosing a condition Sennelt missed purely from behavioral observation?”
“Not entirely,” he replied, still telling the truth but not all of it. “In my job I’ve met, talked with, and come to know many Kelgians, one in particular very well, and I know how they feel and think. Kledenth may not yet be aware that there is anything wrong with it, but there is.”
Joan’s anger and embarrassment had been replaced by interest now. She said, “If I understand you correctly, the compression of its body when the Tralthan fell on it, and the subsequent near-drowning, have caused a delayed action but potentially severe emotional trauma. Are you trying to avoid or relieve this condition by tinkering with its mind?”
O’Mara shook his head. “Unfortunately,” he said very seriously, “Kledenth’s condition is purely physical. If left untreated the emotional problems will surely follow.”
“Then I don’t understand you,” said Joan. “Explain it to me.”
He didn’t want to explain, because that would lead to telling her all about the mind-tape trials and virtually everything else about himself, but neither did he want to lie to her. He was saved from having to make the decision by Kledenth turning suddenly to rejoin the conversation.
“I thought I heard talking about me,” it said. “Is it more interesting and important than the things these others are saying?”
“Probably not as interesting,” O’Mara replied, slipping automatically into direct, Kelgian speech mode, “but certainly more important. Have you retold your adventure often enough, and heard enough praise and sympathy from your friends, to give us your undivided attention?”