The captain sighed, and embarrassment diluted its feelings of anxiety as it said, “This whole situation is potentially very dangerous and, if it isn’t handled correctly, it could develop into a greater threat to the Pax Galactica than the Etlan War… I mean, police action. I want to order this solar system to be placed quarantine, interdicted to all service and commercial traffic and contact forbidden to all personnel other than those presently on-site. That includes medical assistance, first-contact specialists or technical investigators, and there must be no exceptions.
“My worry,” it ended quietly, “is whether or not my superiors will obey that order.”
In spite of its efforts at emotional control, the captain was radiating a level of concern that verged on outright fear. Fletcher, as Prilicla knew from long experience of working with it, rarely felt fear even in situations where it would have been warranted. Perhaps, considering their initial contact with the outwardly undamaged but utterly devastated Terragar, the other was frightening itself needlessly. Or, more likely, it understood the nature of this technological threat better than could a medic like himself. Either way, it was a time to offer reassurance.
“Friend Fletcher,” he said, “please remember who and what you are. You are the Corps’ most experienced and respected specialist in the investigation of unique other-species technology, otherwise you would not have been given operational command of this, the greatest and most non-specialized recovery vessel ever built. When your superiors consider this fact, I have no doubt that your orders will be obeyed.
“I’m assuming,” Prilicla went on, “that the medical team will remain here with Rhabwar since we are best-suited to solving a unique problem that is both technological and medical. However, allowances must be made for the natural curiosity of your higher-ranking colleagues. They will probably send at least one fast courier vessel for information-gathering purposes, in addition to the ship we need to transfer the Terragar casualties to Sector General….”
“My point exactly!” Fletcher broke in, a burst of anger briefly overshadowing its anxiety. “A quarantine is either in force or it isn’t, but for what may or may not prove to be good, medical reasons, even you are willing to break it. Everyone must be made to realize that we are faced with the technological equivalent of a plague. You and your team know this, you’ve seen what it can , for yourselves, and still you are willing to compromise by …” It raised its hands briefly and radiated helplessness. “If I can’t convince you, what chance is there of a mere captain and glorified ambulance driver telling fleet commanders and higher what to do and making it stick? I don’t have enough bloody rank.”
“Together, friend Fletcher,” said Prilicla, “we might have enough. I suggest you draft the signal you wish to send, and if you wouldn’t mind, let me see it and perhaps suggest amendments before transmission with a view to increasing its effectiveness—-
“I’d do that anyway,” the captain broke in angrily, “as a matter of professional courtesy. But I won’t promise to insert your changes. Considering the power requirements, that signal must be clear, concise, and contain absolutely no excess verbiage.”
“… While you’re doing that,” Prilicla went on gently, as if the interruption was a figment of everyone’s imagination, “I’ll check on the condition of the Earth-human casualties before trying to get close enough to identify the two on the alien ship.”
The captain was radiating feelings of disbelief. “You mean you want to go back in there?”
“As soon as possible,” he replied.
Within the first few minutes it became clear that he was not urgently required in the medical station. Terragar’s casualties were stable, responding well to treatment, and showing signs of significant improvement although the grafting, reconstructive surgery and lower-limb replacements should be done as soon as Practicable at the hospital. But if he was reading correctly between the lines of dialogue, there was a problem. Unlike his emphatic faculty, intuition was not affected by distance.
I think there is something other than the patients’ clinical condition worrying you, friend Murchison,” he said. “What is the Problem, and does it require my presence?”
No, sir,” the other replied quickly. “I’m ashamed to say, the problem is sheer boredom. We’re all cooped up in this bunch of high-tech medical shoeboxes with virtually nothing to fill our time except watch the patients getting better while outside the sun is shining, the sea is blue, and the sand is warm. It’s as environmentally perfect as the hospital’s recreation deck except that it’s bigger and it’s real. Sir, it feels as if we’re on vacation but confined to our hotel bedrooms.