The Genocidal Healer
By James White

Published by Ballantine Books:
AMBULANCE SHIP
ALL JUDGMENT FLED
CODE BLUE—EMERGENCY!
THE DREAM MILLENNIUM
FEDERATION WORLD
FUTURES PAST
THE GENOCIDAL HEALER
HOSPITAL STATION
MAJOR OPERATION
SECTOR GENERAL
THE SILENT STARS GO BY
STAR HEALER
STAR SURGEON

A Del Rey Book BALLANTINE BOOKS • NEW YORK

Published by Ballantine Books

Copyright © 1991 by James White

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
Published in the United States of America by Ballantine Books, a division of
Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of
Canada Limited, Toronto.

To Jeff aka Jeffrey Mcllwain, MD, FRCS who is also great with sick refrigerators

In Appreciation

Manufactured in the United States of America

Scanned with FineReader 6
DimJim


Chapter 1

THEY had assembled in a temporarily unused compartment on the hospital's eighty-
seventh level. The room had seen service at various times as an observation ward
for the birdlike Nallajims of physiological classification LSVO, as a Melfan
ELNT operating theater, and, most recently, as an overflow ward for the
chlorine-breathing Illensan PVSJs, whose noxious atmosphere still lingered in
trace quantities. For the first and only time it was the venue of a military
court and, Lioren thought hopefully, it would be used to terminate rather than
extend life.

Three high-ranking Monitor Corps officers had taken their seats facing a
multispecies audience that might be sympathetic, antagonistic, or simply
curious. The most senior was an Earth-human DBDG, who opened the proceedings.

"I am Fleet Commander Dermod, the president of this specially convened court-
martial," it said in the direction of the recorder. Then, inclining its head to
one side and then the other, it went on. "Advising me are the Earth-human
Colonel Skemp-ton of this hospital, and the Nidian, Lieutenant-Colonel Dragh-
Nin, of the Corps's other-species legal department. We are here at the behest of
Surgeon-Captain Lioren, a Tarlan BRLH, who is dissatisfied with the verdict of a
previous Federation civil-court hearing of its case. The Surgeon-Captain is
insisting on its right as a serving officer to be tried by a Monitor Corps
military tribunal.

"The charge is gross professional negligence leading to the deaths of a large
but unspecified number of patients while under its care."

Without taking its attention from the body of the court, and seeming
deliberately to avoid looking at the accused, the fleet commander paused
briefly. The rows of chairs, cradles, and other support structures suited to the
physiological requirements of the audience held many beings who were familiar to
Lioren: Thornnastor, the Tralthan Diagnostician-in-Charge of Pathology; the
Nidian Senior Tutor, Cresk-Sar; and the recently appointed Earth-human
Diagnostician-in-Charge of Surgery, Conway. Some of them would be willing and
anxious to speak in Lioren's defense, but how many would be as willing to
accuse, condemn, and punish?

"As is customary in these cases," Fleet Commander Der-mod resumed gravely, "the
counsel for the defense will open and the prosecution will have the last word,
followed by the consultation and the agreed verdict and sentence of the officers
of this court. Appearing for the defense is the Monitor Corps Earth-human, Major
O'Mara, who has been Chief of the Department of Other-Species Psychology at this
hospital since it first became operational, assisted by the Sommaradvan, Cha
Thrat, a member of the same department. The accused, Surgeon-Captain Lioren, is
acting for and is prosecuting itself.

"Major O'Mara, you may begin."

While Dermod had been speaking, O'Mara, whose two eyes were recessed and
partially hidden by thin flaps of skin and shadowed by the gray hair which grew
in two thick crescents above them, had looked steadily at Lioren. When it rose
onto its two feet, the prompt screen remained unlit. Plainly the Chief
Psychologist intended speaking without notes.

In the angry and impatient manner of an entity unused to the necessity for being
polite, it said, "May it please the court, Surgeon-Captain Lioren stands
accused, or more accurately stands self-accused, of a crime of which it has
already been exonerated by its own civil judiciary. With respect, sir, the
accused should not be here, we should not be here, and this trial should not be
taking place."

"That civil court," Lioren said harshly, "was influenced by a very able defender
to show me sympathy and sentiment when what I needed was justice. Here it is my
hope that—"

"I will not be as able a defender?" O'Mara asked.

"I know you will be an able defender!" Lioren said loudly, knowing that the
process of translation was removing much of the emotional content from the
words. "That is my greatest concern. But why are you defending me? With your
reputation and experience in other-species psychology, and the high stan- dards
of professional behavior you demand, I expected you to understand and side with
me instead of—"
"But I am on your side, dammit—" O'Mara began. He was silenced by the
distinctively Earth-human and disgusting sound of the fleet commander clearing
its main breathing passage.

"Let it be clearly understood," Dermod said in a quieter voice, "that all
entities having business before this court will address their remarks to the
presiding officer and not to each other. Surgeon-Captain Lioren, you will have
the opportunity to argue your case without interruption when your present
defender, be he able or inept, has completed his submission. Continue, Major."

Lioren directed one eye toward the officers of the court, another he kept on the
silent crowd behind him, and a third he fixed unwaveringly upon the Earth-human
O'Mara, who, still without benefit of notes, was describing in detail the
accused's training, career, and major professional accomplishments during his
stay at Sector Twelve General Hospital. Major O'Mara had never used such words
of praise to or about Lioren in the past, but now the things it was saying would
not have been out of place in a eulogy spoken over the mortal remains of the
respected dead. Regrettably, Lioren was neither dead nor respected.

As the hospital's Chief Psychologist, O'Mara's principal concern was and always
had been the smooth and efficient operation of the ten-thousand-odd members of
the medical and maintenance staff. For administrative reasons, the entity O'Mara
carried the rank of major in the Monitor Corps, the Federation's executive and
law-enforcement arm, which was also charged with the responsibility for the
supply and maintenance of Sector General. But keeping so many different and
potentially antagonistic life-forms working together in harmony was a large job
whose limits, like those of O'Mara's authority, were difficult to define.

Given even the highest qualities of tolerance and mutual respect among all
levels of its personnel, and in spite of the careful psychological screening
they underwent before being accepted for training in the Galactic Federation's
most renowned mul-tienvironment hospital, there were still occasions when
serious interpersonal friction threatened to occur because of ignorance or
misunderstanding of other-species cultural mores, social behavior, or
evolutionary imperatives. Or, more dangerously, a being might develop a
xenophobic neurosis which, if left untreated, would ultimately affect its
professional competence, mental stability, or both.

A Tralthan medic with a subconscious fear of the abhorrent little predators
which had for so long infested its home planet might find itself unable to bring
to bear on one of the physiologically similar, but highly civilized, Kreglinni
the proper degree of clinical detachment necessary for its treatment. Neither
would it feel comfortable working with or, in the event of personal accident or
illness, being treated by a Kreglinni medical colleague. It was the
responsibility of Chief Psychologist O'Mara to detect and eradicate such
problems before they could become life- or sanity-threatening or, if all else
failed, to remove the potentially troublesome individuals from the hospital.

There had been times, Lioren remembered, when this constant watch for signs of
wrong, unhealthy, or intolerant thinking which the Chief Psychologist performed
with such dedication made it the most feared, distrusted, and disliked entity in
Sector General.

But now O'Mara seemed to be displaying the type of uncharacteristic behavior
that it had always considered as a warning symptom in others. By defending this
great and terrible crime of negligence against an entire planetary population, a
piece of wrong thinking without precedent in Federation history, it was ignoring
and reversing the professional habits and practices of a lifetime.

Lioren stared for a moment at the entity's head fur, which was a much lighter
shade of gray than he remembered, and wondered whether the confusions of
advancing age had caused it to succumb to one of the psychological ills from
which it had tried so hard to protect everyone else. Its words, however, were
reasoned and coherent.

". . . At no time was it suggested that Lioren was promoted beyond its level of
competence," O'Mara was saying. "It is a Wearer of the Blue Cloak, the highest
professional distinction that Tarla can bestow. Should the court wish it I can
go into greater detail regarding its total dedication and ability as an other-
species physician and surgeon, based on observations made during its time in
this hospital. Documentation and personal affidavits provided by senior and
junior Monitor Corps officers regarding its deservedly rapid promotion after it
left us are also available. But that material would be repetitious and would
simply reinforce the point that I have been making, that Lioren's professional
behavior up to and, I submit, while committing the offense of which it is
charged, was exemplary.

"I believe that the only fault that the court will find in the accused," O'Mara
went on, "is that the professional standards it has set itself, and until the
Cromsag Incident achieved, were unreasonably high and its subsequent feelings of
guilt disproportionately great. Its only crime was that it demanded too much of
itself when—"

' 'But there is no crime!'' O'Mara's assistant, Cha Thrat, broke in loudly. It
rose suddenly to its full height. "On Sommaradva the rules governing medical
practice for a warrior-surgeon are strict, stricter by far than those accepted
on other worlds, so I fully understand and sympathize with the feelings of the
accused. But it is nonsense to suggest that strict self-discipline and high
standards of professional conduct are in any sense bad, or a crime, or even a
venial offense."

"The majority of the Federation's planetary histories," O'Mara replied in an
even louder voice, the deepening facial color showing its anger at this
interruption from a subordinate, "contain many instances of fanatically good
political leaders or religious zealots which suggest otherwise. Psychologically
it is healthier to be strict in moderation and allow a little room for-"

' 'But surely,'' Cha Thrat broke in again,' 'that does not apply to the truly
good. You seem to be arguing that good is ... is bad\"

Cha Thrat was the first entity that Lioren had seen of the Sommaradvan DCNF
classification. Standing, it was half again as tall as O'Mara, and its
arrangement of four ambulatory limbs, four waist-level heavy manipulators, and a
further set for food provision and fine work encircling the neck gave it a shape
that was pleasingly symmetrical and stable—unlike that of the Earth-humans, who
always seemed to be on the point of falling on their faces. Of all the beings in
the room, Lioren wondered if this entity would be the one who best understood
his feelings. Then he concentrated his mind on the images coming from the eye
that was watching the officers of the court.

Colonel Skempton was showing its teeth in the silent snarl w
Earth-humans gave when displaying amusement or friendship, the Nidian officer's
features were unreadable behind their covering of facial fur, and the fleet
commander's expression did not change at all when it spoke.

"Are the counsels for the defense arguing among themselves regarding the guilt
or otherwise of the accused," it asked quietly, "or simply interrupting each
other in their eagerness to expedite the case? In either event, please desist
and address the court one at a time."

"My respected colleague," O'Mara said in a voice which, in spite of the emotion-
filtering process of translation, sounded anything but respectful, "was speaking
in support of the accused but was a trifle overeager. Our argument will be
resolved, in private, at another time."

"Then proceed," the fleet commander said. Cha Thrat resumed its seat, and the
Chief Psychologist, its face pigmentation still showing a deeper shade of pink,
went on, "The point I am trying to make is that the accused, in spite of what it
believes, is not totally responsible for what happened on Cromsag. To do so I
shall have to reveal information normally restricted to my department. This
material is—"

Fleet Commander Dermod was holding up one forelimb and hand, palm outward. It
said, "If this material is privileged, Major, you cannot use it without
permission from the entity concerned. If the accused forbids its use—" "I forbid
its use," Lioren said firmly. "The court has no choice but to do the same,"
Dermod went on as if the Surgeon-Captain had not spoken. "Surely you are aware
of this?''

"I am also aware, as, I believe, are you, sir," said O'Mara, "that if given the
chance the accused would forbid me to say or do anything at all in its defense."

The fleet commander lowered its hand and said, "Nevertheless, where privileged
information is concerned, the accused has that right."

"I dispute its right to commit judicial suicide," said O'Mara, "otherwise I
would not have offered to defend an entity who is so highly intelligent,
professionally competent, and completely stupid. The material in question is
confidential and restricted but not, however, privileged since it was and is
available to any accredited authority wishing for complete psychological data on
a candidate before offering to employ it in a position of importance, or
advancement to a level of greater responsibility. Without false modesty I would
say that my department's psych profile on Surgeon-Captain Lioren was what gained
its original commission in the Monitor Corps and probably its last three
promotions. Even if we had been able to monitor closely the accused's psych
profile following its departure from the hospital there is no certainty that the
Cromsag tragedy could have been averted. The personality and motivations of the
entity who caused it were already fully formed, stable, and well integrated. To
my later regret I saw no reason to alter them in any way.''

The Chief Psychologist paused for a moment to look at the beings crowding the
room before returning its attention to the officers of the court. Its desk
screen came to life, but O'Mara barely glanced at the upward march of symbols as
it continued speaking.

"This is the psych record of a being with a complete and quite remarkable degree
of dedication to its profession," the major said. "In spite of the presence of
fellow Tarlans of the female sex at that time, there are no social or sexual
activities listed or, indeed, any indication that it wished to indulge in
either. Self-imposed celibacy is undertaken by members of several intelligent
species for various personal, philosophical, or religious reasons. Such behavior
is rare, even unusual, but not unsane.

"Lioren's file contains no incidents, behavior, or thinking with which I could
find fault," O'Mara went on. "It ate, slept, and worked. While its colleagues
were off duty, relaxing or having fun, it spent its free time studying or
acquiring extra experience in areas which it considered of special interest.
When promotion came, it was intensely disliked by the subordinate medical and
environmental maintenance staff on its ward because it demanded of them the same
quality of work that it required of itself, but fortunate indeed were the
patients who came under its care. Its intense dedication and inflexibility of
mind, however, suggested that it might not be suitable for the ultimate
promotion to Diagnostician.

"This was not the reason for it leaving Sector General," O'Mara said quickly.
"Lioren considered many of the hospital staff to be lax in their personal
behavior, irresponsible when off duty, and, by its standards, nonserious to a
fault, and it wished to continue its work in an environment of stricter
discipline. It fully deserved its Corps promotions, including the command of the
rescue operation on Cromsag that ended in disaster."

The Chief Psychologist looked down at its desktop, but it was not seeing the
prompt screen, because for some reason it had closed its eyes. Suddenly it
looked up again.

"This is the psych profile of an entity who had no choice but to act as it did,"
O'Mara resumed, "so that its actions in the circumstances were proper. There was
no carelessness on its part, no negligence, and therefore, I submit, no guilt.
For it was only after the few survivors had been under observation here for two
months that we were able to unravel the secondary endo-crinological effects of
the disease Lioren had been treating. If any offense was committed, it was the
minor one of impatience allied to Lioren's firm belief that its ship's medical
facilities were equal to the task demanded of them.

"I have little more to say," the major continued, "except to suggest to the
court that its punishment should be in proportion to the crime and not, as the
accused believes and the prosecution will argue, the results of that crime.
Catastrophic and horrifying though the results of the Surgeon-Captain's actions
have been, the offense itself was a minor one and should be treated as such.''
While O'Mara had been speaking, Lioren's anger had risen to a level where it
might no longer be controllable. Brown blotches were appearing all over his
pale, yellow-green tegument, and both sets of outer lungs were tightly distended
to shout a protest that would have been too loud for proper articulation and
would probably have damaged the sound sensors of many of those present.

"The accused is becoming emotionally distressed," O'Mara said quickly, "so I
shall be brief. I urge that the case against Surgeon-Captain Lioren be dismissed
or, failing that, that the sentence be noncustodial. Ideally the accused should
be confined to the limits of this hospital, where psychiatric assistance is
available when required, and where its considerable professional talents will be
available to our patients while it is—"

"No!" Lioren said, in a voice which made those closest to him wince and the
translator squawk with sound overload. "I have sworn, solemnly and by Sedith and
Wrethrin the Healers, to forgo the practice of my art for the rest of my
worthless life.''

"Now that," O'Mara replied, not quite as loudly as Lioren, "would indeed be a
crime. It would be a shameful and unforgivable waste of ability of which you
would be inarguably guilty."

"Were I to live a hundred lifetimes," Lioren said harshly, "I could never save a
fraction of the number of beings I caused to die."

"But you could try—" O'Mara began, and broke off as once again the fleet
commander raised his hand for silence.

"Address your arguments to the court, not each other," Der-mod said, looking at
them in turn. "I shall not warn you again. Major O'Mara, some time ago you
stated that you had little more to say. May the court now assume that you have
said it?"

The Chief Psychologist remained standing fora moment; then it said, "Yes, sir"
and sat down.

"Very well," the fleet commander said. "The court will now hear the case for the
prosecution. Surgeon-Captain Lioren, are you ready to proceed?''

Lioren's skin showed an increasing and irregular discoloration caused by the
deep emotional distress that even the earliest and innocent memories evoked, but
his surface air sacs had deflated so that he was able to speak quietly.

"I am ready."


Chapter 2

THE Cromsag system had been investigated by the Monitor Corps scout ship
Tenelphi while engaged on a survey mission in Sector Nine, one of the
embarrassing three-dimensional blanks which still appeared in the Federation's
charts. The discovery of a system containing habitable planets was a pleasant
break in the boring routine of counting and measuring the positions of a myriad
of stars, and when they found one displaying all the indications of harboring
intelligent indigenous life, their pleasure and excitement were intense.

The pleasure, however, was short-lived.

Because a scout ship with a complement of only four entities did not have the
facilities to handle a first-contact situation, the regulations forbade a
landing, so the crew had to content themselves with conducting a visual
examination from close orbit while trying to establish the natives' level of
technology by analyzing their communications frequencies and any other
electromagnetic radiation emanating from the planet. As a result of their
findings, Tenelphi remained in orbit while it recklessly squandered its power
reserves on the ship's energy-hungry sub-space communicator on increasingly
urgent distress messages to base.

The Monitor Corps's specialized other-species contact vessel, Descartes, which
normally made the initial approach to newly discovered cultures, was already
deeply involved on the planet of the Blind Ones, where communications had
reached the stage where it was inadvisable to break off. But the situation on
the new planet was not a problem of First Contact but of insuring that enough of
the natives would survive to make any kind of contact possible.

The Emperor-class battleship Vespasian, which was more than capable of waging a
major war although in this instance it was expected to end one, was hastily
converted to disaster-relief mode and dispatched to the region. It was under the
command of the Earth-human Colonel Williamson, but in all matters pertaining to
relief operations on the surface it was the Tarlan subordinate, Surgeon-Captain
Lioren, who had the rank and the sole responsibility.

Within an hour of the two vessels matching orbits, Tenelphi had docked with
Vespasian and the scout ship's captain, the Earth-human Major Nelson, and its
Nidian medical officer, Surgeon-Lieutenant Dracht-Yur, were in the operations
room giving the latest situation report.

"We have recorded samples of their radio signals," Major Nelson reported
briskly, "even though the volume of traffic is unusually small. But we were
unable to make any sense of it because our computer is programmed for survey
work with just enough reserve capacity to handle the translation requirements of
my crew. As things stand, we don't even know if they know we are here—"

"Vespasian's tactical computer will translate the surface traf- fie from now
on," Colonel Williamson broke in impatiently, "and the information will be
passed to you. We are less interested in what you did not hear than in what you
saw. Please go on, Major."

It was unnecessary to mention a fact known to everyone present, that while
Williamson's tremendous capital ship had the bigger brain, Nelson's tiny and
highly specialized survey vessel had eyes that were second to none.

"As you can see," Nelson went on, tapping the keys that threw the visuals onto
the room's enormous tactical display screen, "we surveyed the planet from a
distance of five diameters before moving in to map in more detail the areas that
showed signs of habitation. It is the third planet, and so far as we know the
only life-bearing one, of a system of eight planets. Its day is just over
nineteen hours long, surface gravity one and one-quarter Earth-normal, the
atmospheric pressure in proportion, and its composition would not seriously
inconvenience the majority of our warm-blooded oxygen-breathers.

"The land surface is divided into seventeen large island continents. All but the
two at the poles are habitable, but only the largest equatorial continent is
presently inhabited. The others show signs of habitation in the past, together
with a fairly high level of technology that included powered surface and air
transport, with radiation traces suggesting that they had fission-assisted
electricity generation. Their towns and cities now appear to be abandoned and
derelict. The buildings are undamaged, but there are no indications of
industrial or domestic wastes either in atmosphere or on the ground, no evidence
of food cultivation, and the road surfaces, street paving, and a few of the
smaller buildings have been broken up and damaged due to the unchecked growth of
plant life. Even in the inhabited areas of the equatorial continent there is
similar evidence of structural and agrarian neglect with the associated
indications of—"

"Obviously a plague," Lioren said suddenly, "an epidemic for which they have
little natural immunity. It has reduced the planetary population to the extent
that they can no longer fully maintain all their cities and services, and the
survivors have collected in the warmer and less power-hungry cities of the
equator to—"

"To fight a bloody war!" the scout ship's medic, Dracht-Yur, broke in, its
snarling Nidian speech making an angry accom- paniment to the emotionless
translated words. "But it is a strange, archaic form of warfare. Either they
love war, or hate each other, very much. Yet they seem to have an inordinate
respect for property. They don't use mass-destruction weapons on each other;
there is no evidence of aerial bombing or artillery, even though they still have
large numbers of ground and atmosphere vehicles. They just use them to transport
the combatants to the battleground, where they fight at close quarters, hand to
hand and apparently without weapons. It is savage. Look!"

Vespasian's, tactical screen was displaying a series of aerial photographs of
tropical forest clearings and city streets, sharp and clear despite massive
enlargement and the fact that they had been taken from a vertical distance of
fifty miles. Normally it was difficult to obtain much information on the body
mass and physiological details of a native life-form from orbit—although a study
of the shadow it cast could be helpful—but, Lioren thought grimly, far too many
of these creatures had been obliging enough to lie flat on the ground dead.

The pictures shocked but did not sicken the Surgeon-Captain as they did Dracht-
Yur, because the Nidian medic belonged to one of those strange cultures who
reverenced the decomposing remains of their dead. Even so, the number of
recently and not so recently dead lying about in the streets and forest
clearings was bound to pose a health risk.

Lioren wondered suddenly whether the surviving combatants were unwilling or
simply unable to bury them. A less sharp moving picture showed two of the
creatures fighting together on the ground, and so gentle were the blows and
bites they inflicted on each other that they might have been indulging publicly
in a sexual coupling.

The Nidian seemed to be reading Lioren's mind, because it went on. "Those two
look as if they are incapable of seriously damaging each other, and at first I
assumed this to be a species lacking in physical endurance. Then other entities
were seen who fought strongly and continuously for an entire day. But you will
also observe that the bodies of these two show widespread patches of
discoloration, while a few of the others have skins without blemish. There is a
definite correlation between the degree of physical weakness and the area of
discoloration on the body. I think it is safe to assume that these two are
seriously ill rather than tired.

"But that," Dracht-Yur ended in an angry growl, "doesn't stop them from trying
to kill each other."

Lioren raised one hand slightly from the tabletop, middle digits extended in the
Tarlan sign of respect and approval. But the two officers gave no indication of
understanding the significance of the gesture, which meant that they had to be
complimented verbally.

"Major Nelson, Surgeon-Lieutenant Dracht-Yur," Lioren said, "you have both done
very well. But there is more that you must do. Can I assume that the other
members of your crew have also had the opportunity of observing the situation
below and have discussed it among themselves?''

"There was no way of stopping them—" Nelson began. " Yes," Dracht-Yur barked.
"Good," Lioren said. "Tenelphi is detached from its current survey duty.
Transfer its officers to Vespasian. They will join the crews of the first four
reconnaissance vehicles to go down as advisors since they know more, perhaps
only a little more, about the local situation than we do. This ship will remain
in orbit until the most effective rescue site has been chosen ..."

At times like these Lioren was reluctant to waste time on politeness, but he had
learned that, where Earth-human senior officers in particular were concerned,
time wasted now would help expedite matters later. And Colonel Williamson was,
after all, Vespasian's commander and nominally the senior officer.

"If you have any comments or objections so far, sir," Lioren said, "I would be
pleased to hear them."

Colonel Williamson looked at Nelson and Dracht-Yur briefly before returning its
attention to Lioren. The scout-ship officers were showing their teeth, and a few
of the colonel's were also visible as it said, "Tenelphi will not be able to
resume its survey mission until we have topped up its consumables, and I would
be surprised if its officers objected to any break in that deadly dull routine.
You are making friends, Surgeon-Captain. Please continue."

"The first priority is to end the fighting," Lioren said, "and only then will it
be possible to treat the sick and injured. This forced cessation of hostilities
will have to be achieved without inflicting additional casualties or causing too
much mental dis- tress among the population. To a culture at the prespaceflight
level of technology, the sudden arrival among them of a vessel of the size and
power of Vespasian, and the visually monstrous entities it contains, would not
be reassuring. The first approach will have to be made in a small ship by people
who, for psychological reasons, must be of equal or lesser body mass than they
are. And it will have to be done covertly, in an isolated area where there are
few natives or, ideally, only one whose temporary withdrawal from among its
friends will arouse minimum distress ..."

The vehicle chosen for the mission was Vespasian's short-range communications
vessel, which was equally capable of space operations or extended aerodynamic
maneuvering in atmosphere. It was small but comfortably appointed, Lioren
thought, if one happened to be an Earth-human, but at present it was overloaded
and overcrowded.

They descended steeply out of the orange light of sunrise into an uneven blanket
of dark, predawn cloud, thrusters shut down and velocity reduced so that they
would not cause unnecessary distress by dragging a sonic shock wave in their
wake, and the ship was darkened except for the radiation from its infrared
sensors, which the natives might or might not be able to see.

Lioren stared at the enhanced picture of the forest clearing with its single,
low-roofed dwelling and outbuildings rushing up at them. Without power their
ship was gliding in too steeply and much too fast and with the flight
characteristics, it seemed, of an aerodynamically clean lump of rock. Then three
small areas of vegetation were flattened suddenly and driven downward into
shallow craters as the ship's pressor beams reached out to support it on
immaterial, shock-absorbing stilts. The touchdown was silent and sudden but very
gentle.

Lioren turned a disapproving eye toward the pilot, wondering, not for the first
time, why some experts felt it necessary to display their expertise so
dramatically; the boarding ramp slid out before he could think of words that
were both complimentary and critical.

They wore heavy-duty space suits with the air tanks and helmet visors removed,
confident that this makeshift body armor would protect them against any bare-
handed attack by an intelligent life-form that used only natural weapons. The
five Earth-humans and three Orligians in the party ran to search the
outbuildings while Dracht-Yur and Lioren moved quickly toward the house, which,
in spite of the early hour, had its internal lighting switched on. They circled
the house once, keeping below the level of the closed and uncurtained windows,
to stop at the building's only entrance.

Dracht-Yur focused its scanner on the door mechanism and the life-sensor on the
spaces beyond; then it used the suit radio to say quietly, "Beyond the door
there is a large room, presently unoccupied, and three smaller compartments
opening off it. The first is empty of life, the second contains traces which are
not moving and positioned so closely together that I can't be sure whether there
are two or three entities, who are making the low, untranslatable noises
characteristic of sleep. Maybe they are sick or wounded. The third room contains
one being whose movements appear slow and deliberate, and the sounds from that
compartment are quiet but distinct, like the intermittent contact between
cooking utensils. The overall indication is that the occupants are unaware of
our presence.

"The door mechanism is very basic," the Nidian medic continued, "and the large
metal bar on the inside has not been engaged. You can simply lift the latch and
walk in, sir."

Lioren was relieved. Breaking down the door would have made the job of
convincing these people of his good intentions much more difficult. But with
anything up to four natives in the house and only one overeager but diminuitive
Nidian in support, Lioren was unwilling to enter just then. He remained silent
until the others arrived to report that the outhouses contained only
agricultural implements and nonsapient farm animals.

Quickly he described the layout of the house, then went on. "The greatest risk
to us is the group of three or four beings occupying the room directly opposite
this entrance, and they must not be allowed to leave it until the situation has
been explained to them. Four of you guard the interior door and four the window
in case they try to escape that way. Dracht-Yur and myself will talk to the
other one. And remember, be quiet, careful, and nonaggressive at all times. Do
not damage furniture or artifacts, and especially not the beings themselves, or
do anything to suggest that we are not their friends."

He unlatched the door quietly and led the way inside.

An oil-burning lamp hung from the center of the ceiling, illuminating walls hung
with a few pictorial carvings and what seemed to be displays of dried, aromatic
vegetation, although to his Tarlan olfactory sensors the aroma was anything but
pleasant. Against the facing wall there was a long dining bench with four high-
backed chairs pushed under it. A few smaller tables and larger, more heavily
padded chairs were visible, plus a large bookcase and other items which he could
not immediately identify. The majority of the furniture was of wood and strongly
but not expertly built, and a few of the items showed signs of being mass-
produced. Plainly they were the very old, scratched, and dented legacies of
better times. The middle of the room was uncluttered and covered only by a thick
carpet of some fabric or vegetable material that deadened the sound of their
feet as they crossed it.

All three of the internal doors had been left ajar, and from the room occupied
by the single native the quiet noises of cooking utensils making contact with
crockery were accompanied by a soft, wailing sound that was untranslatable.
Lioren wondered if the entity was in pain from illness or wounds, or was perhaps
indulging in its version of mouth music. He was about to move in to confront the
native when Dracht-Yur grasped one of his medial hands and pointed toward the
door of the other occupied room.

One of the Earth-humans had been gripping the door mechanism tightly to prevent
it being opened from within. Now it held out its free hand waist high with three
digits extended, then lowered it palm downward to show two digits at hip level,
and brought it down almost to its knee joint before showing one digit. For an
instant it released the door handle, pressed both palms together and brought its
hands to one side of its face, then inclined its head and closed both of its
eyes.

For a moment Lioren was completely baffled by the gestures until he remembered
that the Earth-human DBDG classification, and quite a few other life-forms,
adopted this peculiar position while asleep. The rest of the hand signals could
only mean that the room contained three children, one of whom was little more
than an infant, and that they were all asleep.

Lioren dipped his head Earth-human fashion in acknowledgment, relieved that the
children could be easily contained in their room so that there would be no
possibility of uninformed and terrified escapees spreading panic throughout the
area. Feeling pleased and much more confident, he moved forward to open
communication with what, judging by the sounds emanating from the food-
preparation room, was almost certainly the only adult in the house.

The entity had its back turned toward the entrance, showing him a three-quarters
rear profile as it busied itself with some task that was concealed by its upper
torso. Because of the absence of individually mobile eye mountings in its
cranium and the consequent loss of all-around vision, Lioren was able to watch
it for a moment without it being able to see him.

Its bodily configuration more closely resembled Lioren's own than those of the
Earth-humans, Nidians, or Orligians accompanying him, which should greatly
reduce the visual shock of first contact. Except for the possession of three
sets of limbs-two ambulators, two medial heavy manipulators, and two more at
neck level for eating and to perform more delicate work, rather than the
Tarlan's three sets of four—and a cranium covered by thick, blue fur that
continued in a narrow strip along the spine to the vestigial tail, the general
physical characteristics were remarkably similar. Its skin showed areas of pale
yellow-discoloration that were symptomatic of the plague that, with the savage
and barbaric war, was threatening to sweep its planet free of intelligent life.
The creature's physiological classification was DCSL, and curing its medical
condition, at least, would be relatively simple once he obtained its
cooperation.

Gently at first but with increasing firmness Lioren began clapping two of his
guantleted, medial hands together to attract its attention, and when it swung
around suddenly to face him, Lioren said, "We are friends. We have come to—"
It had been supporting a large bowl partially filled with a pale gray semiliquid
material between its body and one medial hand, while the other medial hand was
holding and pouring the contents of a smaller bowl into the first. Both
containers, Lioren had time to note, were thick-walled and seemed to be made of
a hard but very brittle ceramic, as was proved by the way they shattered when
dropped onto the floor. The noise was loud enough to waken the three youngsters
in the other room, and one of them, probably the infant, began making loud,
frightened sounds which did not translate.

"We will not harm you," Lioren began again. "We have come to help cure you of
the terrible disease which—"

The creature made a high-pitched gobbling sound which translated as, "The
children! What have you done to the children?" and hurled itself at Lioren and
Dracht-Yur.

It was not a bare-handed attack.

From the number of kitchen implements lying on the tabletop nearby it had
snatched up a knife, which it swung at Lioren's chest. The blade was long and
pointed, serrated along one edge and sharp enough to leave a deep scratch in the
fabric of Lioren's heavy-duty space suit. But the creature was a quick learner,
because the second blow was a straight-armed jab which might have penetrated if
Lioren had not grasped the creature's wrist in two medial hands and used a third
to prise the weapon from its fingers, taking a small, incised wound to one of
his own digits in the process, while at the same time holding off its two upper
hands, which seemed intent on tearing holes in his face.

The violence   of its attack sent Lioren staggering   backward into the other room,
and he had a   glimpse of the diminutive Dracht-Yur   diving at the creature's legs
and wrapping   its short, furry arms tightly around   them. The creature
overbalanced   and all three of them crashed to the   floor.

"What are you waiting for, immobilize it!" Lioren said sharply. Then with a
sudden feeling of concern for the being, he said, "As yet I am unfamiliar with
your internal physiology, and I trust that the weight of my body against your
lower thorax is not causing damage to underlying organs."

The creature's response was to struggle even harder against the Earth-human,
Orligian, and Tarlan hands holding it down, and only a few of the sounds it was
making were translatable. Looking at the obviously confused and terrified being,
Lioren spoke silent and highly critical words to himself. This, his first
contact with a member of a newly discovered intelligent species, had not been
handled well.

"We will not harm you," Lioren said, trying to sound reassuring in a voice
louder than that of the creature and those of the three children in the other
room, all of whom were awake and contributing their own untranslatable sounds.
"We will not harm your children. Please calm yourself. Our only wish is to help
you, all of you, to live out your lives free of war and the disease which is
affecting you ..."

It must have understood his translated words, because it had grown silent as he
was speaking, but its struggle to free itself continued.

"But if we are to find a cure for this disaster," Lioren went on in a quieter
voice, "we will have to isolate and identify the pathogen within your body
causing it, and to do this we require specimens of your blood and other body
fluids ..."

They would also be needed to prepare large quantities of safe anesthetics,
tranquilizing gases and synthetic food suited to the species metabolism if the
war as well as the disease was to be checked with minimum delay and loss of
life. But this did not seem to be the right moment to tell it all of the truth,
because its efforts to break free had intensified.

Lioren looked at Dracht-Yur and indicated one of the native's medial arms where
muscle tension and elevated blood pressure had caused one of the veins to
distend, making it an ideal site for withdrawing blood samples.

"We will not harm you," Lioren repeated. "Do not be afraid. And please stop
moving your arm."

But the large, glittering, and multibarreled instrument that the Nidian medic
had produced, while absolutely painless in use, was not an object to inspire
confidence. If their positions had been reversed, Lioren knew, he would not have
believed a single word he was saying.


Chapter 3

WITH a few violent exceptions, the subsequent contacts with the planet's
natives, whose name for their world was Cromsag, went more easily. This was
because Vespasian's transmitter had matched frequencies with the Cromsaggar
broadcast channels to explain in greater detail who the off-world strangers
were, where they had come from, and why they were there. And when the great
capital ship landed and began to disgorge and erect prefabricated hospitals and
food-distribution centers for the war's survivors, the verbal reassurances were
given form and substance and all hostility against the strangers ceased.

But that did not mean that they became friends.

Lioren was sure that he knew everything about the Cromsag-gar, with the
exception of how their minds worked. From recently dead cadavers abandoned in
the war zones he had obtained a complete and accurate picture of their
physiology and metabolism. This had enabled their injuries to be treated with
safe medication and their war to be ended ingloriously under blankets of
anesthetic gas. The scout ship Tenelphi had been pressed into service as a fast
courier vessel plying between Cromsag and Sector General. It carried specimens
requiring more detailed study in one direction and the findings of Head of
Pathology Thornnastor, which more often than not agreed with Lioren's own, in
the other.

But the Cromsaggar disease was proving difficult for even Diagnostician
Thornnastor to isolate and identify. Living rather than dead specimens were
required for study, if possible displaying the symptomology from onset to the
preterminal stage of the condition, and Rhabwar, the hospital's special
ambulance ship, was dispatched to obtain them. And even more baffling than the
plague, to which the victims invariably succumbed before reaching middle age,
was their mental approach to it.

One plague victim had agreed to talk to Lioren about itself, but its words had
merely added to the Surgeon-Captain's confusion. He knew the patient only by its
case file number, because the Cromsaggar considered their written and spoken
symbol of identity to be the most important of personal possessions, and even
though this one was close to termination it would not divulge its name to a
stranger. When Lioren asked it why many of the Cromsaggar had attacked off-
worlders with any weapon that came to hand, but fought among themselves only
with teeth, hands and feet, it said that there was no honor or gain in killing a
member of one's own race unless it was with great effort and extreme personal
danger. For the same reason they always stopped short of killing a very sick,
severely weakened, or dying adversary.

Taking the life of another intelligent entity, Lioren firmly believed, was the
most dishonorable act imaginable. In his position he should respect the beliefs
of others, regardless of how strange or shocking they might be to one of his
strict Tarlan upbringing, but he could not and would not respect this one.

Changing the subject quickly, he asked, "Why is it that after you fight, the
injured are taken away to be cared for while the dead remain untouched where
they fall? We know that your people have some knowledge of medicine and healing,
so why do you allow the dead to remain unburied, to risk the spread of further
pestilence into your already plague-ridden population? Why do you expose
yourselves to this totally unnecessary danger?"

The ravages of the disease, which had covered the entire epidermis in patches of
livid camouflage, had left the patient very weak, and for a moment Lioren
wondered if it was able to reply, or even if it had heard the questions. But
suddenly it said, "A decomposing corpse is indeed a fearful risk to the health
of those who pass nearby. The danger and the fear are necessary."

"But why?" Lioren asked again. "What do you gain by deliberately subjecting
yourselves to fear and pain and danger?''

"We gain strength," the Cromsaggar said. "For a time, for a very short time, we
feel strong again."

"In a very short time," Lioren said with the confidence of a healer backed by
all the resources of Federation medical science, "we will make you feel well and
strong without the fighting. Surely you would prefer to live on a world free of
war and disease?''

From somewhere within its wasted body the patient seemed to gather strength. It
said loudly, "Never in the memories of those alive, or in the memories of their
ancestors, has there been a time without war and disease. The stories told of
such times, when the planetwide ruins of towns and cities were populated by
healthy and happy Cromsaggar, are stories told only to comfort small and hungry
children, children who soon grow large enough to fight and to disbelieve these
stories.

"You should leave us, stranger, to survive as we have always survived," it went
on, straining to raise itself from the litter. "The thought of a world without
war is too frightening to contemplate."

He asked more questions, but the patient, although fully conscious and
displaying a slight improvement in its clinical condition, would not speak to
him.

There was no doubt in Lioren's mind that a medical cure would quickly be
discovered for the condition affecting the ten thousand-odd surviving
Cromsaggar. But he was less sure whether a species which fought wars using only
the natural weapons provided by evolution, because that made them feel good for
a while, was worth saving. The strict rules of engagement that governed the
fighting did not make the situation any less barbaric. They did not fight weaker
opponents or children or the very few who were advanced in years, but only
because the element of personal risk, and presumably the emotional reward, was
reduced. He was glad that his only responsibility was the return of the plague
sufferers to bodily health and not the curing of what appeared to be the even
more diseased minds inhabiting those bodies.

And yet there had been occasions when, in an effort to give his patients
something other than their own distressing clinical condition to think about, he
had tried to explain star travel and the Galactic Federation to them. He had
described the bewildering variety of shapes and sizes that intelligent life
could take, and tried to make them understand that they lived on one inhabited
world of many hundreds. He found those frightening and inexplicable minds of
theirs had displayed an agility and a level of intelligence, although not the
degree of education and knowledge, that was almost the equal of his own.

At those times there had been a small and transient improvement in their
clinical condition, and that had made Lioren wonder if their craving for the
danger and emotional excitement of war and single combat might not someday be
fulfilled by the many and even more difficult challenges of peace. But they
refused, or perhaps were psychologically unable because of cultural
conditioning, to divulge personal information about their social behavior, moral
strictures, or feelings on any subject unless, as in the present case, the
patient was gravely ill and its mental resistance low.

The truth was that Lioren did not know how his patients felt, about themselves
or anyone or anything else, and the stock question of the attending physician,
"How do you feel?," was never answered.

Rhabwar was due in two days' time, and he decided that this particular patient
would be among those transferred to the ambulance ship for investigation and
treatment at Sector General, and that he would ask for a consultation with the
vessel's senior medical officer.

Doctor Prilicla was a Cinrusskin, and, as a member of the Federation's only
empathic species, it knew how everyone felt.

Lioren asked that the meeting take place on Rhabwar'?, casualty deck, rather
than summoning Prilicla to the overcrowded sick bay of Vespasian, for reasons
both practical and personal. The level of background emotional radiation from
patients was much higher on Vespasian and would doubtless have distressed his
visitor—it did no harm to show consideration to a professional colleague. On the
ambulance ship there was less likelihood of his uncertainties regarding the
Cromsaggar becoming known to his subordinates. It was his firm belief that a
leader should display certainty at all times to the led if he was to receive
their respect and total obedience.

Perhaps the empath held the same belief, but it was more likely that Prilicla
had detected Lioren's emotional radiation at a distance, correctly analyzed it,
and insured that their meeting would be private. He was grateful but not
surprised. It was in the other's own selfish interest to minimize the generation
of unpleasant emotional radiation around it, because to do otherwise would be to
expose itself to exactly the same degree of unpleasantness.
The Cinrusskin positioned itself at eye level above one of the treatment tables,
an enormous, incredibly fragile flying insect rendered small only by Lioren's
greater body mass. From its tubular, exoskeletal body there projected six
pencil-thin legs, four even more delicately fashioned manipulators, and four
sets of wide, iridescent, and almost transparent wings that were beating slowly
as, with the aid of the gravity nullifiers strapped'to its body, it maintained a
stable hover. Only on Cinruss, with its thick atmosphere and gravitational pull
of one-eighth standard G, could a species of flying insect have evolved
intelligence, civilization, and star travel, and Lioren knew of no race within
the Federation who did not consider them to be the most beautiful of all
intelligent life-forms.

From one of the narrow openings in the delicate, convoluted eggshell that was
its head came a series of musical trills and clicks which translated as "Thank
you, friend Lioren, for the complimentary feelings you are harboring, and for
the pleasure of meeting you in person for the first time. I also detect strong
emotional radiation which suggests that the purpose of our meeting is
professional and urgent rather than social.

"I am an empath, not a telepath," it ended gently. "You will have to tell me
what is troubling you, friend Lioren."

Lioren felt sudden irritation at the other's continuing use of the word
"friend." He was, after all, the medical and administrative director of the
disaster relief operation on Cromsag, and a Surgeon-Captain in the Monitor
Corps, while Prilicla was a civilian Senior Physician at Sector General. His
irritation was making the empath's whole body tremble and causing its hovering
flight to become less stable. He suddenly realized that he was attacking a being
with a weapon, his feelings, against which it had no defense.

Even the pathologically warlike Cromsaggar would scorn to attack such a weak and
defenseless enemy.

Lioren's irritation quickly changed to shame. This was a time to forget the
feelings of justified pride in his high rank and in the many professional
accomplishments that had earned it. Instead he should try, as he had often done
in the past, to make the most effective use of the abilities of a subordinate
whose feelings were easily hurt, and to control his emotions.

"Thank you, friend Lioren, for the mental self-discipline you have just
displayed," Prilicla said before he could speak. It settled like a feather onto
the top of the examination table, no longer trembling, and added, "But I detect
strong background emotional radiation that you are finding more difficult to
control and that, I feel sure, concerns the Cromsaggar. My own feelings of
concern over the situation here are strong, perhaps as strong as yours, and
shared feelings about other persons or situations cause me lesser discomfort. So
if there is some way that I can help you please do not hesitate to speak."

Lioren felt renewed irritation at being given permission to discuss the
Cromsaggar when his only purpose in coming here had been to do so, but the
feeling was faint and transient. As he began to speak, the Surgeon-Captain knew
that he was briefly verbalizing his latest report, copied to his Monitor Corps
superiors and to Prilicla itself, that Rhabwar would be carrying back to
Thornnastor, but it was necessary that the empath be acquainted with the current
position if it was to understand the importance of the later questions.
He described the continually expanding search that had brought back data fit
only for industrial archeologists. There were no recent life signs. Many of the
abandoned cities and mining and manufacturing complexes in the north and south
temperate regions were many centuries old, and so well con- structed that only a
moderate effort would be required to restore them because the mineral wealth of
the planet was far from exhausted. But the effort had not been made because the
race's energies had been directed into fighting, so much so that many of them no
longer grew food or had the strength to forage for that which grew wild, and the
population had contracted into one region so that they could continue fighting
without having to travel far to do so.

"When we stopped the war," Lioren went on, "or rather, when our sleep bombs
halted the hundreds of small gang and two-person conflicts, there was an
estimated surviving population of just under ten thousand entities, a number
which included all the adults, their young, and a few newly born infants. But
recently they have begun dying at the rate of about one hundred every day.''

Prilicla had begun to tremble again. Lioren was unsure whether it was in
response to his emotional radiation or its own reaction to the news of the
increasing number of fatalities. He tried to make his mind as well as his voice
calm and clinical as he continued.

"In spite of our supporting them with shelters, clothing, and synthetic
nutrient, even going so far as to gather supplies of local food that they were
too weak to harvest for themselves, the deaths continue. Adult fatalities are
invariably due to the plague, sometimes expedited by the debilitating effect of
war injuries, and the children succumb to other diseases for which we have no
specifics as yet. The Cromsaggar accept our help and our food, but only their
young appear grateful for it. They show no interest in what we are trying to do
for them. I feel that the adults tolerate us as an additional and unwelcome
burden that they can do nothing about. My own feeling is that they are
disinterested in their own survival and want to be left alone to commit racial
suicide in the bloodiest fashion possible, and there are times when I feel that
such a warlike and individually violent race should not be restrained from doing
so. I do not know what they themselves feel, about anything."

"And you would like me to use my empathic faculty," Prilicla asked, "to tell you
what they feel?"

"Yes," Lioren said, with so much feeling that the Cinrusskin trembled for a
moment. "I hoped that you, Doctor, might have detected urges, instincts,
feelings about themselves, their off- spring, or their present situation. My
ignorance regarding their thinking and motivations is total. I would like to be
able to do or say something to them that, as with an emotionally disturbed
entity about to jump from a high building, would make them want to live instead
of die. What is it that they fear, or need, that would make them want to
survive?"

"Friend Lioren,"   Prilicla said without hesitation, "they fear death, like every
other self-aware   creature, and they want to survive. There were no indications,
even in the most   serious cases, of a wish for individual death or racial self-
destruction, and   they should not be—"

"I am sorry," Lioren broke in. "My earlier remark about allowing them to commit
racial suicide—"
"They were words spoken because of helplessness and frustration, friend Lioren,"
Prilicla said, in the gentlest of interruptions, "that were completely
contradicted by your underlying emotional radiation at the time. There was no
need for an apology then or for your embarrassment now.

"And I had been about to say," it v/ent on, "that the Crom-saggar should not be
criticized for their lack of cooperation, and the strong feelings of ingratitude
until we know why they feel so ungrateful. These feelings were strongly present
in all of the adult patients I monitored during transportation to Sector General
and while I was present at the subsequent attempts to question them. They know
we are trying to help them, but will not help us with clinical or personal
information about themselves. When the interrogation was intensified they became
agitated and fearful, and a marked if temporary remission of symptoms was
observed at these times."

"I have made the same observation," Lioren said, "and assumed that it was the
transfer of focus from a material condition to an immaterial one, the
psychological mechanism which can sometimes make faith healing effective. I did
not consider it an important datum."

"You are probably correct," Prilicla said. "But Chief Psychologist O'Mara is of
the opinion that the marked remission due to the fear stimulus, combined with
their fanatical refusal to communicate with us beyond the exchange of a few
words, indicates the presence of an extremely strong and deep-rooted
conditioning about which the Cromsaggar, as individuals, may be unaware. Friend
O'Mara likens it to the racial group psycho- ses afflicting the Gogleskans, and
says that it is trying to probe a very sensitive area that is surrounded by a
very thick wall of mental scar tissue, and advises everyone concerned to proceed
slowly and carefully.''

The Gogleskan psychosis forced them into avoiding direct physical contact with
each other for the greater part of their adult lives, which was certainly not
the problem with the Cromsaggar. Trying to control his feelings of impatience,
Lioren said, "If we do not quickly find a cure for this plague, your Chief
Psychologist will run out of subjects for his slow and careful investigation.
What progress has been made since your last visit?"

"Friend Lioren," Prilicla said gently, "significant progress has been made.
However, I sense and wholly agree with your need to avoid wasting time, so I
suggest that Pathologist Mur-chison makes its report to you in person rather
than having it relayed through myself, since you will doubtless have questions
and I, because of my selfish need to surround myself with pleasant emotional
radiation, have the unfortunate habit of accentuating the positive aspects of
any situation."

Lioren's original reason for wanting a private meeting with Prilicla no longer
seemed valid, and he could not reject the other's suggestion without seriously
embarrassing both himself and the empath. He had the feeling, which was no doubt
shared by the empath, that somehow he had lost the initiative.

Pathologist Murchison was a warm-blooded oxygen-breather of physiological
classification DBDG with a body that, although considerably shorter and less
massive than Lioren's own, had the soft, lumpy and top-heavy aspect of many of
the Earth-human females. It was Thornnastor's principal assistant, when not
required for special ambulance-ship duty, and its words were clear and concise
and its manner respectful without being subservient. It also had the slightly
irritating habit of answering questions before Lioren could ask them.
The identification, isolation, and neutralization of other-species pathogens,
Pathologist Murchison said, was a routine procedure for Thornnastor's
department, but the behavioral characteristics of the Cromsaggar virus—its
mechanisms of transmission, infection, incubation, and propagation—remained
undetectable to all of the normal investigative techniques. It was only in
recent days, when the discovery had been made that the virus was either
inherited at conception or transmitted by the mother prior to birth, that some
progress had been made.

"The effects on the adult Cromsaggar are known to you," Murchison went on, "and
the present indications are that every member of the species is infected. In the
preterminal stage there is a livid rash and skin eruptions covering most of the
body, accompanied by progressive and massive debilitation and lassitude which is
sometimes overcome, temporarily, by strong emotional stimuli such as fear and
danger. The effects on the children are less apparent and this led to the
initial assumption that the young were immune, which they are not.

"We have since discovered," it continued, "that severe debility and lassitude
are also present in the young, although it is difficult to be precise since we
have no idea of how active a young, noninfected Cromsaggar should be. And,
incredible though it might seem, neither can we be precise about the ages of
these child patients. There is physiological and verbal evidence which suggests
that many of them are not nearly as young as they appear, and that our age
estimates should be extended by a factor of two or three because, in addition to
its general debilitating effect, the plague retards the overall physiological
development and greatly delays the onset of puberty. Probably there are
psychological effects, as well, which might explain their grossly antisocial
adult behavior, but again, this must remain speculative since you have yet to
find a normal, disease-free Cromsaggar."

"I doubt whether such an entity exists," Lioren said. "But you spoke of having
verbal as well as physiological evidence. These people absolutely refuse to give
information about themselves. How was it obtained?"

"A large proportion of the cases you sent us were young or, as we now know, not
yet physically mature," Murchison replied. "The adult patients remain completely
uncooperative, but O'Mara was able to open dialogue with a few non-adults, who
were much less reticent about themselves. Because of this immature viewpoint,
adult motivations still remain unclear, and the picture of the Cromsaggar
culture that is emerging is confusing and fraught with—"

"Pathologist Murchison," Lioren interrupted, "my interest is in the clinical
rather than the cultural picture, so please confine yourself to that. My reason
for asking Rhabwar to transfer so many young or not so young patients to the
hospital was that they were among the large numbers left parentless or without
adults to care for them. As well as suffering from undernourishment or exposure,
conditions which are treatable, they displayed symptoms of respiratory distress
associated with elevated temperature, or a wasting disease affecting the
peripheral vascular and nervous systems. If Thornnastor's investigation into the
plague is showing no results, what of these other and, I would think, clinically
less complex conditions which seem to affect only the young?"

"Surgeon-Captain Lioren," the pathologist said, using Lioren's name and rank for
the first time, "I did not say that no progress is being made.
"All of the non-adult cases are being investigated and significant progress is
being made," it went on quickly. "In one of them, the condition presenting
respiratory distress symptoms, there has been a minor but positive response to
treatment. But the main effort is being directed toward finding a specific for
the adult condition, because it has become evident that if the massive
debilitation and growth-retarding effects of the plague were removed, the
diseases currently afflicting the pre-adult Cromsaggar would be countered by
their bodies' natural defense mechanisms and would no longer be life-
threatening."

If that much was known, Lioren thought, then progress was indeed being made.

"The trials conducted so far," Murchison continued, "have been inconclusive.
Initially the medication was introduced in trace quantities and the patients'
condition monitored routinely for fifty standard hours before the dosage was
increased, until on the ninth day, within a few moments of the injection being
given, both patients lost consciousness."

It paused for a moment to look at Prilicla then, seeming to receive a signal
undetectable by Lioren, resumed. "Both patients were placed in isolation some
distance from the others and each other. This was done so as to minimize same-
species interference in their emotional radiation. Doctor Prilicla reported that
the level of unconsciousness was extraordinarily deep, but that there was no
sign of the subconscious distress that would have been present had they been
drifting into termination. It suggested that the unconsciousness might be
recuperative since it had many of the characteristics of sleep following a
lengthy period of physical stress and that nutrient should be given
intravenously. A few days after this was done there was a minor remission of
symptoms in both cases, and evidence of slight tissue regeneration, although
both patients remained deeply unconscious and in a critical condition."

"Surely that means—!" Lioren began, and broke off as Mur-chison held up one hand
as if it and not himself had the rank. But suddenly he was too excited to
verbally tear its insubordinate head off as he should.

"It means, Surgeon-Captain," Murchison said, "that we must proceed very
carefully and, if the first two test subjects regain consciousness rather than
drifting into termination, we must closely monitor their clinical and
psychological condition before the trial is extended to the other patients.
Diagnostician Thornnastor and everyone in its department believes, and Doctor
Prilicla feels sure, that we are on the way to finding the cure. But until we
are certain we must exercise patience for a time until—"

"How much time?" Lioren demanded harshly.

Prilicla's fragile body was shaking as if a strong wind was blowing through the
casualty deck, but Lioren could no more have controlled the emotional storm of
impatience, eagerness, and excitement that raged within him than he could have
flown on the empath's fragile wings. He would apologize to Prilicla later, but
now all that he could think of was the steadily dwindling number of Cromsaggar
who still clung to life on this plague world, and who might now have a chance to
remain alive. More quietly, he asked, "How long must I wait?"

"I don't know, sir," the pathologist said. "I only know that Tenelphi has been
ordered to remain at flight readiness at Sector General until the medication has
been approved for general use, so as to bring you the first production batch
without delay."
Chapter 4

 RHABWAR departed with its casualty deck filled principally with non-adult
Cromsaggar. There were many adult cases in Vespasian's sick bay—and in the
widely dispersed medical stations that Lioren visited every day—who were in a
much more serious condition, but the future survival of any species lay with its
young, and those fortunate enough to be under the care of Thornnastor would be
the first to be cured.

He ignored the polite but increasingly sarcastic messages from Colonel Skempton,
the administrative head of Sector General, reminding him that the hospital was
unable to accept the entire Cromsag population, depleted though it might be, for
hospital-ization, and that they had already received more than enough members of
that species for the purposes of clinical investigation. The entire Rhabwar crew
would have been aware of Skempton's uncoded messages and the pressure on ward
accommodation that had prompted them, but Prilicla had raised no objections to
transporting the additional twenty patients.

Prilicla must be the least objectionable entity in the known galaxy, Lioren
thought, unlike the Cromsaggar, who were his patients but who would never be his
friends—unless there was a species-wide personality reconstruction by the
Galactic Federation's many deities, of whose existence he had the gravest
doubts.

Nevertheless, he spent all of his time, when he was not engaged in eating or
sleeping, visiting the worst of his massively unlikable patients or encouraging
the two hundred Corps medics and food technicians scattered across the continent
who were trying, not always with success, to keep them alive. Always he hoped
for a change of attitude, a willingness to talk to him and give information that
would enable him to help them or that a tiny crack would show in their
impenetrable wall of noncoop- eration, but in vain. The Cromsaggar, adult and
young alike, continued dying at a steadily increasing rate because, like Sector
General, he did not have the facilities to feed intravenously the entire
population.

Occasionally, and in spite of the surface and orbital surveillance, they managed
to die at each others' hands.

It had happened while he had been flying over one of the forest settlements that
had long since been searched and declared empty of intelligent life, but that
must have been because the occupants had taken to the trees to elude the
searchers. Lioren spotted the small-scale war being waged by six of them in a
grassy clearing between two buildings. By the time the flier, which would have
carried a crew of four Nidians had it not been for his long Tarlan legs, had
circled back to land and Dracht-Yur had helped him extricate himself from the
tiny vessel's seating, the hand-to-hand fighting was over and four Cromsaggar
lay still on the ground.

In spite of the numerous bites and digitally inflicted wounds covering the
bodies, they were able to identify them as three dead males and one female whose
life expectancy would be measured in seconds. Dracht-Yur pointed suddenly to the
ground nearby where two separate trails of crushed and blood-spattered grass
converged toward the open door of one of the buildings.
The advantage of a longer stride meant that Lioren went through the entrance
seconds ahead of the Nidian, and his first sight of the two writhing, bloody
bodies locked together in mortal combat on the floor reinforced the anger and
disgust he felt at such animal behavior between supposedly intelligent beings.
Moving forward, he quickly interposed his medial arms between the tightly
pressed bodies and tried to push them apart. Only then did he make the
disconcerting discovery that they were not, as he had first thought, two males
fighting each other to the death but a male and female indulging in a sexual
coupling.

Lioren released them and backed away quickly, but suddenly they broke apart and
launched themselves at him just as Dracht-Yur arrived and blundered into his
rear legs. The weight of the combined attack toppled him over backward so that
he sprawled flat on the floor with the two Cromsaggar on top of him and the
Nidian somewhere underneath. Within moments he was fighting for his life.

After the first few days on Cromsag had shown the natives to be too severely
weakened by the plague to warrant the use of heavy protective suits, all Corps
personnel had taken to wearing their cooler and less restrictive shipboard
coveralls, which gave protection only against the sun, rain, and insect bites.

It was with a sense of outrage that Lioren realized that for the first time in
his life the hands—not to mention the feet, knees, and teeth—of another person
had been raised in anger against him. On Tarla disputes were not settled in this
barbaric fashion. And even though the number of his limbs equaled the total of
theirs, they did not behave like plague-weakened Cromsaggar. They were
inflicting serious damage to his body and causing him more pain than he had ever
thought it possible to feel.

As he fended off the more disabling body blows and tried desperately to keep the
two Cromsaggar from pulling off his dirigible eye-supports, Lioren was aware of
Dracht-Yur wriggling from underneath him and crawling toward the door. He was
pleased when his attackers ignored it, because the Nidian's small, furry limbs
had neither the muscle power nor the reach to make a useful contribution to the
struggle. A few seconds later he caught a glimpse of the Nidian's head enclosed
by a transparent envelope, heard the expected soft explosion of a bursting
sleep-gas bulb, and felt the bodies of his attackers go suddenly limp and
collapse on top of him before rolling slowly onto the floor.

For the few moments that the bodies, covered as they were by livid patches of
discoloration and the oozing sores characteristic of preterminal plague victims,
made heavy and almost intimate contact with him, it was a great relief to
remember that one world's pathogens were ineffective against the members of off-
planet species.

Designed as it was for maximum effect on the Cromsaggar metabolism, the
anesthetic gas produced similar if less immediate results on other warm-blooded
oxygen-breathers. Lioren was unable to move, but he was aware of the Nidian
growling and barking urgently into its headset while it applied dressings to the
worst of his wounds. Presumably it was telling the pilot of their flier to send
for medical assistance, but his own translator pack had been damaged in the
struggle and he could not understand a word. This did not worry him unduly,
because the intense discomfort of his many injuries had faded to the mildest of
irritations and the hard floor beneath him felt like the softest of sleeping
pits. But his mind was clear and seemed unwilling to follow his body into sleep.
Interrupting the two Cromsaggar in the sex act had been a serious mistake, but
an understandable one because none of his people had witnessed the occurrence of
anything like a sexual coupling since arriving on Cromsag, and everyone, himself
included, had assumed that the species had become too physically debilitated by
the plague to make much of such activity possible. And their reaction, the sheer
strength and ferocity of their attack, had surprised and shocked him.

During the very short breeding season on Tarla such activity, especially among
the aging who had been lifemates for many years, was a cause for celebration and
public display rather than a matter for concealment—although he knew that many
species within the Federation, races who were otherwise highly intelligent and
philosophically advanced, considered the mating process to be a private matter
between the beings concerned.

Naturally, Lioren had no personal experience in this area, since his dedication
to the healing arts precluded him indulging in any pleasure which would allow
emotional factors to affect the clinical objectivity of his mind. If he had been
an ordinary Tarlan male, an artisan or a member of one of the noncelibate
professions interrupted in similar circumstances, there would have been a verbal
impoliteness, but certainly not violence.

Distressing and distasteful as the incident had been, Lioren's mind would not
rest in its search to find a reason for such an unreasonable reaction, however
alien or uncivilized that reason might be. Could it be that, gravely ill and
seriously injured as they had been in the fighting outside, they had crawled
into the house to seek a moment of mutual pleasure together before dying? He
knew that the coupling must have been by mutual agreement, because the
Cromsaggar mechanics of reproduction were physiologically too complicated for
the attentions of one partner to be forced on another.

That did not rule out the possibility that the coupling was the end result of
the fighting, the bestowal of a female's favor on a warrior victorious in
battle. There were many historical precedents for such behavior, although not,
thankfully, in the history of Tarla. But that reason was unsatisfactory because
both male and female Cromsaggar fought, although not each other.

Lioren made a mental note to prepare a detailed report of the incident for the
cultural contact specialists who would ultimately have to produce a solution to
the Cromsaggar problem, if any of the species survived and it was invited to
join the Federation.

The four separate images of the room, including the one of Dracht-Yur working on
the other casualties, that his immobilized eyes were still bringing him dimmed
suddenly into blackness, and he remembered a feeling of mild irritation before
he fell asleep in midthought.

Dracht-Yur confined him to the sick bay on Vespasian until the worst of his
injuries healed, reminding him, as only a hairy, small-minded, and sarcastic
dwarf of a Nidian could, that until then the relationship between them was one
of doctor and patient and that in the present situation it was the Surgeon-
Lieutenant who had the rank.

It could not, however, no matter how often it stressed the advisability of post-
trauma rest and mental recuperation, bind Lioren's jaw closed or keep him from
setting up a communication system by his bedside.
Time passed like a pregnant strulmer climbing uphill, and the medical situation
on Cromsag worsened until the daily death rate climbed from one hundred to close
on one-fifty, and still Tenelphi did not come. Lioren sent a necessarily brief
hyper-space radio signal to Sector General, prerecorded and repeated many times
so that its words could be reconstructed after fighting their way through the
interference of the intervening stars, requesting news. He was not surprised
when it was ignored, because the expenditure of power needed for a lengthy
progress report would have been wasteful indeed. All that he was telling them
was that he and the medical and support personnel on Cromsag were beginning to
feel so helpless and angry and impatient that the condition verged on the
psychotic, but the hospital probably knew that already.

Five days later he received a reply stating that Tenelphi had been dispatched
and was estimating Cromsag in thirty-five hours. It was carrying medication, as
yet incompletely tested for long-term effects, which was a specific against the
grosser, more life-threatening symptoms of the plague, and that the details of
the pathological investigation and directions for treatment accompanied the
medication.

During the excitement that ensued Lioren went over his plans for fast
distribution. Dracht-Yur relented to the extent of allowing him to transfer from
sick bay to the communications center of Vespasian, but not to risk compounding
his injuries by traveling the air or surface of Cromsag in vehicles totally
unsuited to the Tarlan physiology. But the general feeling of relief and
euphoria lasted only until the arrival of Tenelphi.

The scout ship carried more than enough of the antiplague specific, which
required only a single, intravenous application, to treat every Cromsaggar on
the planet, but Lioren was forbidden to use it until additional field trials had
been carried out.

According to Chief Pathologist Thornnastor, the physiological results following
a minimum dosage had been very good, but there were indications of possibly
damaging side effects. Symptoms of mental confusion and periods of
semiconscious-ness had been observed. These might prove to be temporary, but
further investigation was required.

The single injection was followed by a slight but continuing reduction in
symptoms, a slow improvement in the vital signs, and evidence of tissue and
organs regeneration throughout the body in the days which ensued. During the
periods of semicon-sciousness the test subjects had requested and consumed food
in quantities which, considering stomach size and the clinical condition of the
patients involved, seemed unusually large. There was a steady increase in body
weight.

The non-adult subjects had responded in similar fashion, including the periods
of unconsciousnessness interspersed with episodes of semiconsciousness and
mental confusion, except that with the young the food demand in relation to
their smaller size had been greater. Daily measurement had shown a steady
increase in growth, both in body mass and limb dimensions.

It was thought probable that with the gradual remission of the condition the
non-adult patients, whose physical growth had been retarded by the plague, were
returning to optimum size for their ages. The periods of unconsciousness and
impaired thinking were in response to a demand by the body for maximum rest
during these periods of regeneration and were of little clinical importance. The
medication was being used in minimum quantities, but a very small increase in
the dosage of one test subject resulted in a strengthening and acceleration of
the effects already noted. In spite of the excellent physiological results so
far, the associated episodes of mental confusion were cause for concern lest a
side effect of the medication led to long-term brain damage.

Thornnastor apologized for sending medication that it had not completely cleared
for use, but said that Lioren's hyperspace radio signals had emphasized the
urgency of the situation, and in order to save a few days' transit time between
the medication's approval and its administration to the patients the final tests
should be made concurrently on Cromsag and in Sector General.

"I have been instructed to conduct tests on a maximum of fifty Cromsaggar,"
Lioren said, when he was relaying Thorn-nastor's report to his senior medical
officers. "The subjects are to include the widest possible variation in age and
clinical condition, as well as minor variations in the dosage administered
within that number. We are to pay particular attention to the mental state of
these subjects during their periods of semiconsciousness, in the hope that their
degree of confusion will be lessened when they are on their home world among
others of their kind rather than in the strange and doubtless unsettling
environment of Sector General. The initial test period will require ten days,
followed by a further—"

"In ten days we would lose a quarter of the remaining population," Dracht-Yur
broke in suddenly, its barking speech sounding angry even through the
translator, "which has already shrunk to two-thirds of the number alive when
Tenelphi found this Crutath-accursed planet. They're dying out there like, like
. . ."

"That was my thought exactly," Lioren said, omitting the reprimand the Nidian
deserved for its bad manners, and making a mental note to check on the meaning
of the word "Crutath." "It is a thought which all of you share. But it is not
because of our common feelings that I will disobey Thornnastor and ignore its
recommendations. The decision is not yours. I will, of course, listen to your
professional advice and accept it if it has merit, but the instruction to
proceed and the responsibility for everything that ensues as a result will be
entirely mine.

"This is what I am planning to do . . ."

There was no criticism of his plan because he had formulated it with great care
and attention to detail, and—strangely, since it was coming from subordinates to
a superior—the advice of- fered by many of them was personal rather than
professional. They advised that he obey Thornnastor, but compromise by testing a
few hundred, perhaps a thousand subjects instead of a mere fifty, saying that
the course he was advocating would do nothing for any hopes he might have for
future advancement. Lioren felt a strong temptation to do as they suggested, if
only out of respect for the words of an entity said to be the foremost
pathologist in the Federation rather than out of any selfish concern over his
future career, but he was not sure that Diagnostician Thornnastor fully
appreciated the urgency of the Cromsaggar problem. The hospital's Chief of
Pathology was a perfectionist who would never allow imperfect work to leave its
department, and giving Lioren permission to assist with the test program was
probably the only compromise that it was capable of making. But a great, hulking
Tralthan whose data-crammed mind, it was said, permanently accommodated the
brain recordings of at least ten other-species medical authorities could be
forgiven for a certain amount of mental confusion.
The Cromsaggar death rate was climbing steadily toward two hundred a day, and
treating a mere fifty of them with an unnecessary degree of caution when
virtually the entire population could be given the chance to live instead of
dying in a lingering and painful manner was, to Lioren's mind, a great and a
cowardly and a completely unacceptable wrong.

In this desperate situation he could accept imperfections even if Thornnastor's
department could not. The psychological effects that accompanied the cure might
be temporary, and even if they were not then they, too, might be curable in
time. But if the worst should happen and permanent mental harm was the result,
it was highly unlikely that the condition would be transmitted to an offspring,
because O'Mara itself had stated that the damage was nonphysical. Any Cromsaggar
child born of cured but mentally deficient parents would grow up healthy and
sane.

Or as sane, Lioren thought, as it was possible for any member of this
bloodthirsty race to be.

He had told his staff that it must be an operation combining maximum effort with
maximum urgency, and that every single Cromsaggar on the planet must be treated
for effect rather than submitting them to time-wasting trials, and within an
hour of the meeting's end the plan was being implemented. On foot to the
patients who were being housed close to the grounded Ves- pasian, and by sunace
or air transpon to tne more distant shelters, the medication and supplies of
synthetic nutrient were being distributed by every Monitor Corps entity
available, which meant all but the capital ship's watch-keeping and
communications officers and those charged with the maintenance of the air and
surface vehicles. Lioren, whose injuries were still hampering his mobility,
divided his attention between communications and the sick bay, where he was the
only medic on duty.

The dosage administered varied in proportion to the age, body mass, and clinical
condition of the patients. With the very young it was triple that recommended
for trial purposes by Thornnastor, and, making due allowance for the potency of
the medication, for those close to termination it was massive. Priority should
have been given to the more serious cases, but there was so much variation in
the degree of illness within small groups that it saved time if everyone was
treated as and when they were encountered.

It quickly developed into a routine that was too frenetic to be described as
boring. A few words of explanation and reassurance would be given, the single
injection administered, and food and water placed within easy reach of the
patient, who was usually too ill to make anything but a verbal objection; then
it would be on to the next one.

By the end of the third day the entire population had been treated and the
second phase began, that of visiting the patients, on a daily basis if possible,
to replenish the consumables and observe and report on any change in their
clinical condition. The medical and support staff worked day and night, eating
infrequently of the same bland, synthetic food supplied to their patients and
sleeping hardly at all. Increasing fatigue caused a forced landing and two
ground-vehicle accidents, none of which involved fatalities, so that the ship's
hospital no longer held only plague victims.

On the fourth day one of his adult Cromsaggar in sick bay terminated, but the
number of deaths outside the ship went down to one hundred and fifteen. On the
fifth day the figure had dropped to seven, and there were no fatalities reported
on the sixth day.

Except for the difference in scale and the continuing effort needed to keep the
widely dispersed patients supplied with food, the situation in sick bay
reflected the clinical conditions outside.

As Thornnastor had predicted, a gradual remission in external symptoms was
apparent and the food requirement of the adult patients had increased, and the
fact that all of the food had been synthesized made no difference to their
appetites. Much as he wanted to monitor their progress internally, they would
not cooperate and refused to allow him to so much as touch them. With all of his
medical staff and the majority of the ship's crew scattered across the
continent, he thought it better not to force the issue, especially as the
patients were growing stronger with every day that passed. In spite of the
differences in body mass, the young were eating more than the adults, and, as
Thornnastor had also observed, their rate of physical growth was phenomenal.

It was obvious that, in order to cause such a massive retardation of growth, the
disease, which the Cromsaggar had acquired prenatally, must have involved the
entire endocrine system. Now that the process was being reversed and they were
not only growing but maturing, another, nonclinical change was occurring. The
young patients who, once their initial fear had given way to curiosity and they
had grown accustomed to his strange body and multiplicity of limbs, had spoken
to him freely and with the unguarded enthusiasm of children were becoming
increasingly reticent.

They were speaking to him less because, Lioren observed, their recovering elders
were talking to them more. And they talked only when he was not present.

By then his Monitor Corps patients had been well enough to be discharged to
continue their recuperation in their own quarters, so he did not know what the
Cromsaggar talked about until one day, after replenishing the food supply and
his few words of friendship and reassurance had been ignored, he deliberately
left one of the sick-bay senders switched on Transmit so that he would be able
to listen to them from his own quarters.

In the manner of all eavesdroppers, he fully expected to overhear unkind things
about himself and the bad dreams from the sky, which was the literal translation
of the Cromsaggar name for their rescuers. But he was completely wrong. Instead,
they talked and chanted and sang together so that his translator was unable to
separate the individual voices. It was only when a single Cromsaggar spoke out
alone, an adult addressing one or more of the young, that Lioren realized what
he was hearing.

It was part of an initiation ceremony, a preparation and for-malized sex
instruction given to the newly mature before entry into adult life, including
the behavior expected of them thereafter.

Lioren broke the connection hastily. The rite of passage into adulthood was a
highly sensitive area in the cultures of many intelligent species, and one into
which he was not qualified to delve. If he were to continue listening out of
mere lascivious curiosity, he might find that he no longer respected himself.

He was relieved, nevertheless, that with the exception of two very small
children who were little more than infants, the sick bay held only male
Cromsaggar.
During the days that followed there were no organic fatalities reported, but the
air and surface vehicles, which had been in continuous operation over eight days
and nights, had not fared so well. The food synthesizers on Vespasian and in the
outlying medical stations were running at maximum safe overload, a condition
that was not recommended for more than a few hours at a time. All of the organic
components were displaying signs of stress and severe fatigue but were operating
at close to optimum efficiency, even though they rarely talked to each other and
seemed to be asleep on their feet. It was becoming clear to everyone concerned
that the operation was a success and that no member of the patient population
was about to die, and that knowledge was both the fuel and the lubrication which
kept them working.

It was irritating to all of them, but not important, that the Cromsaggar showed
no gratitude for what was being done for them apart from demolishing the
previous day's food supply. The brief explanation of the treatment and
reassurance regarding their ultimate cure that was given at every visit to
replenish stores was ignored. The patients were not actively hostile, unless one
of the medics tried to check on their vital signs or obtain a blood sample,
whereupon they reacted violently toward the person concerned.

An ungrateful and unlikable race, Lioren thought, not for the first time. But it
was their physiology rather than their psychology which was his problem, and the
problem was being solved.

From Sector General there was a continuing silence.

He could imagine Thornnastor's slow, careful progress, with its relatively few
patients, toward a stage in the treatment which

Lioren had already surpassed with the entire planetary population. It was no
reflection on the Tralthan pathologist, who was, after all, the entity
responsible for producing the cure for the plague. But if Lioren had not ignored
its recommendations and risked the displeasure of his superiors, many hundreds
of Crom-saggar would have died by now. And without false modesty on his part,
the solution he had devised for the problem had been truly elegant.

His calculated variation in the dosage administered, based as it had been on
age, body mass, and clinical factors, had insured that the young and old alike
were progressing toward a complete cure at the same time. In spite of his
insubordination, he was sure that his action would merit praise rather than
censure.

Early on the following day he sent a brief message to the Monitor Corps base on
Orligia, and copied to Sector General, requesting additional food synthesizers
and spares for the air and ground transport units, adding that there had been no
Crom-saggar fatalities for eight days and that a full report accompanied by a
medical officer with firsthand experience of the situation was being sent with
Tenelphi to the hospital. The request for synthesizers combined with the sudden
drop in the death rate would tell Thornnastor what Lioren had done, and the
scout ship's medical officer would be able to fill in the details.

Dracht-Yur had been working well and very hard, and ordering its return to
normal duties on Tenelphi would be both a rest and a well-deserved reward for
its efforts. It would also remove the Surgeon-Lieutenant from the scene and
thereby make it possible for Lioren, whose injuries were healing well, to escape
the little Nidian's irksome medical quarantine.
Before retiring that night Lioren posted the usual guard outside the sick bay,
an unnecessary precaution because none of the Cromsaggar had shown any interest
in what lay beyond the entrance, but necessary in Captain Williamson's opinion
in case one of the young ones decided to go exploring and injured itself on ship
equipment. Tomorrow he would fly to the outlying medical shelters and, for the
first time since his embarrassing mishap with the mating Cromsaggar, view the
situation for himself.

He would be seeing, Lioren told himself with mixed feelings of pleasure, pride,
and self-congratulation, the final stages of the cure of Cromsag.

Before he was due to board his flier next morning he visited

 sick bay to check on the condition of his patients, only to find the deck and
walls splattered with Cromsaggar blood and all of the adults dead. The entrance
guard, after succumbing to a violent attack of nausea, reported hearing quiet
voices and chanting that had continued far into the night, followed by a period
of unbroken silence which it had attributed to them being asleep. But from the
condition of the bodies it was clear now that they had instead been fighting and
silently kicking, biting, and tearing the lives out of each other until only two
of the female infants survived.

Lioren was still trying to recover from the shock, and make himself believe that
he was not asleep and having a particularly horrendous dream, when the wall
speaker beside him came to sudden, noisy life. It said that he should go at once
to the communications center and that the bloody, self-inflicted massacre in
sick bay had been repeated all over Cromsag.

Very soon it became clear that Surgeon-Captain Lioren was responsible not for
curing but for killing a planetary population.


Chapter 5

WHEN Lioren finished speaking there was complete stillness in the room. Even
though all present were already aware of every harrowing detail of the Cromsag
Incident and his responsibility for it, the mere repetition was enough to shock
any civilized being into silence.

"The guilt in this matter is entirely mine," Lioren resumed, "and lest there be
any doubt about this in anyone's mind, I ask Thornnastor, the Diagnostician-in-
Charge of Pathology, to give its evidence."

The Tralthan lumbered forward on its six elephantine feet to take the witnesses
position, and, fixing one eye each on the president of the court, Lioren,
O'Mara, and its printed notes, it began to speak. Within a tew minutes Meet
commander uer-mod was holding up one hand for silence.

"The witness is not obliged," it said, "to relate its evidence in such clinical
detail. No doubt its medical colleagues would find it interesting but it is not
understandable by the court. Please simplify your language, Diagnostician
Thornnastor, and go to the explanation of why the Cromsaggar acted as they did."

Thornnastor stamped its two medial feet in a gesture which suggested impatience,
but whose exact significance would have been clear only to another Tralthan, and
said, "Very well, sir. . ."
Because of the more cautious approach to the trial program at Sector General and
the consequently slower progress toward a complete cure, Thornnastor explained,
the hypersignal from Vespasian was received in time to prevent a repetition of
the catastrophe that had occurred on Cromsag. All of the Cromsaggar had been
dispersed and confined to single quarters, and the Department of Other-species
Psychology had intensified its efforts to overcome the fanatical noncooperation
of the patients so that they would answer questions about themselves.

It was only when the decision had been made, very reluctantly and only after
lengthy consideration of possible psychological damage, to tell the patients the
whole truth of what had happened on their home planet, including the fact that
they were the sole surviving adult members of their race, that they began to
talk about themselves. There was much anger and recrimination, understandably,
but enough information was provided to make possible the formation of a theory
which was supported by the archeological evidence.

The best estimate was that the plague had made its first appearance just under
one thousand years ago, when the Cromsaggar level of technological and
philosophical advancement included atmospheric flight and a culture that no
longer practiced war. No information was available regarding the origin and
evolution of the disease other than that it was transmitted by either parent
during sexual coupling and, in the beginning, its effects had been mild and
embarrassing rather than life-threatening. The majority of the Cromsaggar did
not travel widely, and they took their sexual bondings, once formed, very
seriously and did not stray in this respect, either. A number of the more
farsighted Cromsaggar formed communities that were piaguc-ncc, uui me mauiig
pruucss ucpcnucu on einuiiunai rather than medical factors and eventually the
disease broached this immaterial defense. Another three centuries were to pass
before the plague spread unchecked across all of Cromsag to infect every member
of the population, adult and child alike. By that time it had increased in
virulence, and deaths in middle age were becoming common.

The continuing efforts of the medical scientists were of no avail, and by the
end of the following century their civilization had receded to pretechnology
levels with no hope of a revival, and it was rare for anyone to live more than a
decade past maturity. As a race, the Cromsaggar were facing extinction, a very
early extinction because of the effect of the plague on the birth rate.

"The complete symptomology of the disease," Thornnastor said, "including the
endocrinological involvement with its effect on the sufferers' rate of growth
and maturation, has already been studied and can be discussed at length, but I
shall summarize and simplify for the benefit of the court.

"Among the adults of both sexes," it went on, "the visually and tactually
unpleasant skin condition was one factor in the reducing birth rate, but it was
a minor one. Even if the tegument of both partners was flawless and
aesthetically pleasing, the greatly reduced performance of the endocrine system
is such that the act of sexual coupling and conception is impossible without an
abnormal level of prior emotional stimulation."

Thornnastor paused. It did not possess the kind of features which could change
expression, but it was as if the mind-pictures it was seeing inside its great,
immobile dome of a head had made further speech impossible for a moment. Then it
went on. "Efforts were made to circumvent this difficulty by medical means, and
by the use of substances derived from naturally occurring vegetation which
heightened the senses or had hallucinatory effects. These methods proved
ineffective and were discarded because of problems of irreversible addiction,
death from overdose, and seriously deformed and nonviable offspring. The
solution that was ultimately found was nonmedical and involved a deliberate
regression in social behavior to the dark ages of their history.

"The Cromsaggar went to war . . ."

It was not a war fought for reasons of territorial expansion or trade advantage,
and neither was it fought at a distance from fortified positions or by warriors
acting in concert or protected by armored machines or equipment, and it was a
war not waged to the death because there was no intention on either side of
killing an opponent who might very well be a family member or a friend. In fact,
there were no sides because it was fought hand to hand between pairs of unarmed
individuals, and it was a war whose sole purpose was to cause the maximum of
fear, pain, and danger, but if possible, not death to the combatants. There was
no threat or danger from a beaten and seriously wounded opponent and, even
though they had been trying desperately to kill each other moments before, the
vanquished were left where they lay, hopefully to recover from their wounds to
fight and instill fear in an opponent another day.

Life was rare and precious to the Cromsaggar, rarer and more precious with every
dwindling generation that passed; otherwise they would not have tried so hard to
keep their race alive.

For it was only by overloading the sensorium with pain and intense muscular
effort and subjecting themselves to the highest possible levels of emotional
stress that endocrine systems rendered dormant by the eifects of the plague
could be roused into something like normal activity, and remain so, aside from
the wounds that had been sustained, for the time necessary for a successful
coupling and procreation to take place.

But in spite of the terrible solution that had been found, adult deaths from the
plague continued to rise and the birth rate to fall. The population contracted
in numbers and territory occupied, moving to one continent so as to conserve
what little was left of their civilization and resources and to be within easy
fighting distance of each other. There was archeological evidence to suggest
that in the beginning the Cromsaggar were not warlike, but the need to fight and
often kill each other so that their race as a whole could survive made them so,
and by the time Tenelphl discovered them, the practice of hand-to-hand combat
among all adults had been conditioned into the race for many centuries.

"Even though the decision was taken for the best of all clinical reasons, that
of saving many lives," Thornnastor went on, "without prior knowledge of this
conditioning, the effect of introducing a complete and short-duration cure for
the plague could not have been foreseen. It is probable, and Chief Psychologist

O'Mara agrees with me in this, that the Cromsaggar who had been treated were
aware of feeling better and stronger than they had ever felt before, and
subconsciously they must have realized that it was no longer necessary for them
to fight and place themselves in the greatest possible danger in order to
achieve sexual arousal. But for many centuries they had been taught from an
early age that single combat between members of one's own sex invariably
preceded coupling with one of the opposite, a level of conditioning with the
strength of an evolutionary imperative. And so, the more their clinical
condition improved the greater was their urge to fight and procreate. The many
young, whose physical development had been retarded by the effects of the plague
and who had suddenly come to maturity, felt the same compulsion to fight.
"But the real tragedy," the Tralthan continued, "lay in the fact that
individually and as a group they were fully cured, and stronger than any
Cromsaggar had been since the coming of the plague. Previously they had been
weak, diseased, and able to expend only a small fraction of the physical effort
of which they were now capable. Their newfound strength reduced the personal
fear of pain and death, and made it difficult to calibrate the levels of damage
inflicted on and by opponents who were so strong and evenly matched. The result
was that they killed each other, every single adult on Cromsag, leaving only the
infants and children alive.

"Briefly and simply," Thornnastor ended, "that is the background to the Cromsag
Incident."

The silence that followed Thornnastor's words lengthened and deepened until the
faint, bubbling sound made by the refrigerated life-support system of an SNLU in
the audience seemed loud. It was like the Tarlan Silence of Remembrance after
the passing of a friend, except here it was the population of a world that had
died and it seemed that no person present was going to break it.

"With respect to the court," Lioren said suddenly, "I ask that the trial be
ended here and now, without further argument and waste of time. I stand accused
of genocide through negligence. I am guilty without doubt or question and the
responsibility and the guilt are entirely mine. I demand the death penalty."

O'Mara rose to his feet before Lioren had finished speaking.

The Chief Psychologist said, "The defense would like to correct the accused on
one very important point. Surgeon-Captain Lioren did not commit genocide. When
the incident occurred it reacted quickly and correctly in the circumstances, by
warning the hospital and organizing the rescue and care of the newly orphaned
Cromsaggar children, this in spite of the fact that many of its own people had
been so taken by surprise that they were unable to use the gas in time, and who
were seriously injured in attempts to stop the fighting. During this period the
Surgeon-Captain's behavior was exemplary and, although the witnesses are not
here present, their evidence was presented to and accepted by the civil court on
Tarla and is on record—"

"The evidence is not disputed," Lioren broke in impatiently. "It is not
relevant."

"As a result of this timely warning and subsequent actions," O'Mara continued,
ignoring the interruption, "the adult Cromsaggar under treatment here were
separated before they could attack each other, and the young, both here and on
Cromsag, were saved. Altogether thirty-seven adults and two hundred and eighty-
three children, with a roughly equal distribution of sex, are alive and well. I
have no doubt that, after a lengthy period of reeducation, resettlement, and
specialized assistance in breaking their conditioning, Cromsag will be
repopulated, and, now that the plague has been removed, its people will return
to living together in peace.

"It is understandable that the accused should feel an overwhelming guilt in this
matter," the psychologist went on in a quieter voice. "Had that not been so, it
would not have caused this court-martial to be convened. But it is possible that
the great guilt that it feels over the Cromsag Incident, together with its
urgent need to discharge that guilt and its impatience to receive punishment for
the alleged crime, has caused it to exaggerate its case. As a psychologist I can
understand and sympathize with its feelings, and with its attempts to escape the
burden of its guilt. And I am sure that there is no need to remind the court
that, among the sixty-five intelligent species who make up the Galactic
Federation, not one of them practices judicial execution or physical
chastisement during confinement."

"You are correct, Major O'Mara,'' the fleet commander said. "The reminder is
unnecessary and time-wasting. Make your point briefly."

The color of O'Mara's facial skin deepened slightly, and it said, "The
Cromsaggar are not extinct, and they will continue to survive as a race.
Surgeon-Captain Lioren is guilty of exaggeration, but not genocide."

All at once Lioren felt anger, despair, and a terrible fear. He kept one eye on
O'Mara and directed the other three individually toward the officers of the
court and forced calmness and clarity onto his mind as he said, "The
exaggeration, this small inaccuracy that was intended only as a simplification
of a terrible truth, is unimportant because the enormity of my guilt is beyond
measure. And I should have no need to remind Major O'Mara of the punishment, the
destruction of a medic's professional future rather than life, which is meted
out to any member of the staff whose carelessness or lack of observation leads
to the clinical deterioration or death of a patient.

"I am guilty of negligence," Lioren went on, wishing that the translator could
reproduce the desperation in his voice, "and the defense counsel's attempt to
belittle and excuse what I have done is ridiculous. The fact that others,
including the hospital personnel concerned with the trials of the medication,
were also surprised by the Cromsaggar behavior is not an excuse. I should not
have been surprised, because all the information was available to me, all the
clues to the puzzle were there if I had correctly read the signs. I did not read
them because I was blinded by pride and ambition, because a part of my mind was
thinking that a rapid and total cure would enhance my professional reputation. I
did not read them because I was negligent, unobservant, and mentally fastidious
in refusing to listen to patients' conversations relating to Cromsaggar sex
practices which would have given a clear warning of what was to happen, and
because I was impatient of superiors who were advocating caution—"

"Ambition, pride, and impatience," O'Mara said, rising quickly to its feet, "are
not crimes. And surely it is the degree of professional negligence, if any, that
the court must punish, not the admittedly terrible and far-reaching effects of
what is at most a minor transgression."

"The court," Fleet Commander Dermod said, "will not allow counsel to dictate to
it, nor will it allow another such interruption of the prosecution's closing
statement. Sit down, Major. Surgeon-Captain Lioren, you may proceed."

The guilt and the fear and the desperation were filling Lioren's mind so that
the finely reasoned arguments he had prepared were lost and forgotten. He could
only speak simply of how he felt and hope that it would be enough.

"There is little more to add," he said. "I am guilty of a terrible wrong. I have
brought about the deaths of many thousands of people, and I do not deserve to
live. I ask the court for mercy, and for the death sentence."

Again O'Mara rose to its feet. "I am aware that the prosecution is allowed the
last word. But with respect, sir, I have made a detailed submission regarding
this case to the court, a submission which I have not had the opportunity of
introducing for discussion."

"Your submission was received and has been given due consideration," the fleet
commander said. "A copy was made available to the accused, who, for obvious
reasons, chose not to introduce it. And may I remind defense counsel that it is
I who will have the last word. Please sit down, Major. The court will confer
before passing sentence."

The misty gray hemisphere of a hush field appeared around the three officers of
the court, and it seemed that everyone else might have been enclosed in the same
zone of silence as their eyes turned on Lioren. In spite of it being at extreme
range for an empath, at the rear of the audience he could see Prilicla
trembling. But this was not a time when he could control his emotional
radiation. When he remembered the contents of O'Mara's submission to the court,
he felt the most dreadful extremes of fear and despair overwhelming his mind
and, for the first time in his life, an anger so great that he wanted to take
the life of another intelligent being.

O'Mara saw one of his eyes looking in its direction and moved its head slightly.
It was not an empath, Lioren knew, but it must be a good enough psychologist to
know what was in Lioren's mind.

Suddenly the hush field went down and the president of the court leaned forward
in its chair.

"Before pronouncing sentence," the fleet commander said, looking toward O'Mara,
"the court wishes clarification and reassurance from defense counsel regarding
the accused's probable behavior in the event of a custodial rather than the
death sentence being imposed. Bearing in mind Surgeon-Captain

Lioren's present mental state, isn't it likely that either sentence would
quickly result in the accused's death?"

O'Mara rose again. Its eyes were on Lioren rather than the fleet commander as it
said, "In my professional opinion, having observed the accused during its
training here and studying its behavior subsequent to the Cromsag Incident, it
would not. The Surgeon-Captain is an ethical and highly moral being who would
consider it dishonorable to escape what it will consider to be a justly imposed
punishment for its crime by means of suicide, even though a custodial sentence
would be the harshest, in terms of continued mental distress, that could be
imposed. However, as the court will recall from my submission, I prefer the term
'remedial' to 'custodial.' To reiterate, the accused would not kill itself but
it would, as you have already gathered, be most grateful if the court would do
the job for it."

"Thank you, Major,'' the fleet commander said; then it turned to face Lioren.

"Surgeon-Captain Lioren," it said, "this court-martial upholds the earlier
verdicts of your own civil and medical courts on Tarla, your home world, and
finds you guilty of an excusable error in observation and judgment which led,
regrettably, to a major catastrophe. Although it would be kinder in the
circumstances to do so, we will not depart from Federation judicial practice of
three centuries, or waste a potentially valuable life should the therapy prove
successful, by imposing the death sentence that you so plainly desire. Instead
you are to be given a custodial and remedial sentence of two years, stripped of
your Monitor Corps and medical rank, and forbidden to leave this hospital, which
is an establishment large enough for your confinement not to prove irksome. For
obvious reasons you are also forbidden access to the Cromsaggar ward. You will
be placed in the charge and under the direction of Chief Psychologist O'Mara. In
that time the major expects to bring about a psychological and emotional
readjustment which will enable you to begin a new career.

"You have the court's deepest sympathy, ex-Surgeon-Captain Lioren, and its best
wishes."


Chapter 6

LIOREN stood on the clear area of floor in front of O'Mara's desk, surrounded on
three sides by the strangely shaped furniture designed for the comfort of
physiological classifications other than his own, and stared down at the
psychologist with all of his eyes. Since the imposition of the sentence and a
regimen that nothing in his power could change, the intensity of his feelings
toward the stocky little biped with its gray head fur and eyes that never looked
away had diminished from a life-threatening hatred to a level of dislike so
deeply etched into Lioren's mind that he did not believe that it could ever be
erased.

"Liking me is not a prerequisite of the treatment, fortunately," O'Mara said,
seeming to read Lioren's mind; "otherwise Sector General would be without its
medical staff. I have made myself responsible for you and, having read a copy of
my written submission to the court-martial, you are aware of my reasons for
doing so. Need I restate them?"

O'Mara had argued that the principal reason for what had happened on Cromsag had
been due to certain character defects in Lioren, faults which should have been
detected and corrected during its other-species medical training at Sector
General, and this was an omission for which the Psychology Department was
entirely to blame. That being the case, and bearing in mind the fact that Sector
General was not a psychiatric hospital, Lioren could be considered as a trainee
who had not satisfactorily completed his training in other-species relations
rather than a patient, and be attached to the Psychology Department under
O'Mara's supervision. In spite of his proven medical and surgical ability with
many life-forms, as a trainee he would have less status than a qualified ward
nurse.

"No," Lioren said.

"Good," O'Mara said. "I dislike wasting time, or people. At present I have no
specific orders for you other than that you will move freely within the
hospital, initially with an escort from this department, or, if there are times
when this causes an unacceptable level of embarrassment or distress, you will
perform routine office tasks. These will include you familiarizing yourself with
the work of the department and the medical staff psych files, most of which will
be opened to you for study. Should you uncover any evidence of unusual behavior,
uncharacteristic reactions toward other-species staff members, or unexplained
reductions in professional standards, you will report it to me, having first
discussed it with one of your department colleagues to insure that it is worth
my attention.

"It is important to remember," the psychologist went on, "that with the
exception of a few of the most gravely ill patients, everyone in the hospital
knows all about your case. Many of them will ask questions, polite and
considerate questions for the most part, except the Kelgians, who do not
understand the concept of politeness. You will also receive many well-
intentioned offers of help and encouragement and much sympathy."

O'Mara paused for a moment; then, in a softer voice, it continued. "I shall do
everything that I can to help you. Truly, you have suffered and are suffering a
great mental anguish, and laboring under a burden of guilt greater than any I
have encountered in the literature or in my own long experience; a load so heavy
that any other mind but yours would have been utterly destroyed by it. I am
greatly impressed by your emotional control and horrified at the thought of your
present level of mental distress. I shall do everything possible to relieve it
and I, too, who am in the best position of anyone other than yourself to
understand the situation, offer you my sympathy.

"But sympathy," it went on, "is at best a palliative treatment, and one which
diminishes in effect with repeated application. That is why I am applying it on
this one and only occasion. Henceforth, you will do exactly as you are told,
perform all the routine, menial, boring tasks set you, and you will receive no
sympathy from anyone in this department. Do you understand me?"

"I understand," Lioren said, "that my pride must be humbled and my crime
punished, for that is what I deserve." O'Mara made an untranslatable sound.
"What you think you deserve, Lioren. When you begin to believe that you might
not deserve it, you will be well on the way to recovery. And now I will
introduce you to the staff in the outer office."

As O'Mara had promised, the work of the office was routine and repetitious, but
during the first few weeks it was still too new for him to find it boring. Apart
from the periods spent sleeping, or at least resting, or using his room's food
dispenser, Lioren had not left the department, nor had he exercised anything but
his brain. His concentration on the new duties was total, and as a result the
quality, quantity, and his understanding of the work increased to the point
where it drew praise from both Lieutenant Braithwaite and Trainee Cha Thrat,
although not from Major O'Mara.

The Chief Psychologist never praised anyone, it had told him, because its job
was to shrink heads, not swell them. Lioren could not make any clinical or
semantic sense of the remark and decided that it must be what the Earth-human
DBDGs called a joke.

Lioren could not ignore his growing curiosity about the two beings with whom he
was spending so much time, but the psych files of departmental personnel were
closed to each other, and they neither asked personal questions nor answered any
about themselves. Possibly it was a departmental rule, or O'Mara had told them
to keep a rein on their natural curiosity out of consideration for Lioren's
feelings, but then one day Cha Thrat suggested that the rule did not apply
outside the office.

"You should forget that display screen for a while, Lioren," the Sommaradvan
said as it was about to leave for its midday meal, "and rest your mind from
Cresk-Sar's interminable student progress reports. Let's refuel."

Lioren hesitated for a moment, thinking about the permanently crowded dining
hall for the hospital's warm-blooded oxygen-breathers and the people he would
have to meet in the busy corridors between. Lioren was not sure if he was ready
for that.
Before he could reply, Cha Thrat said, "The catering computer has been
programmed with a full Tarlan menu, synthetic, of course, but much better than
that tasteless stodge the room dispensers dish out. That computer must be
feeling hurt, ag- grieved, even insulted at being ignored by the only Tarlan on
the staff. Why not make it happy and come along?"

Computers did not have feelings, and Cha Thrat must know that as well as he did.
Perhaps it was making a Sommaradvan joke.

"I will come," Lioren said.

"So will I," Braithwaite said.

It was the first time in Lioren's experience that the outer office had been left
unattended, and he wondered if one or both of them were risking O'Mara's
displeasure by doing so. But their behavior on the way to the dining hall, and
the firm but unobtrusive manner in which they discouraged any member of the
medical staff who seemed disposed to stop him and talk, made it plain that they
were acting with the Chief Psychologist's approval. And when they found three
vacant places at a table designed for the use of Melfan ELNTs, Braithwaite and
Cha Thrat made sure that he remained between them. The other occupants, five
Kelgian DBLFs noisily demolishing the character of some unnamed Charge Nurse as
they were rising to leave, could not be avoided. Nothing was proof against
Kelgian curiosity.

"I am Nurse Tarsedth," one of them said, turning its narrow, conical head to
point in Lioren's direction. "Your Sommaradvan friend knows me well, since we
trained together, but does not recognize me because it insists that, in spite of
having four eyes, it cannot tell Kelgians apart. But my questions are for you,
Surgeon-Captain. How are you feeling? Does your guilt manifest itself in bouts
of psychosomatic pain? What therapy has O'Mara devised for you? Is it effective?
If not, is there anything I can do to help?"

Suddenly Braithwaite started making untranslatable sounds, and its facial
coloring had changed from pinkish yellow to deep red.

Tarsedth looked at it briefly, then said, "This often happens when the food and
air passages share a common entrance channel. Anatomically, the Earth-human DBDG
life-form is a mess."

Anatomically, Lioren thought as he tried hard to concentrate on the questioner
in an attempt to avoid the pain that its questions were causing, the Kelgian was
beautiful. It was physiological classification DBLF, warm-blooded, oxygen-
breathing, multi-pedal, and with a long, flexible cylindrical body covered
overall by highly mobile, silvery fur. The fur moved continually in slow ripples
from its conical head right down to the tail, and with tiny cross-eddies and
wavelets appearing as if the incredibly fine pelt were a liquid stirred by an
unfelt wind. It was that fur which explained, and excused, the other's rude and
direct approach to what it must know to be a sensitive subject.

Because of inadequacies in the Kelgian speech organs, their spoken language
lacked modulation, inflection, and any emotional expression, but they were
compensated by the fur, which acted, so far as another Kelgian was concerned, as
a perfect but uncontrollable mirror of the speaker's emotional state. As a
result the concept of lying or being diplomatic, tactful, or even polite was
completely alien to them. A Kelgian said exactly what it meant or felt because
its fur revealed its feelings from moment to moment, and to do otherwise would
have been considered a stupid waste of time. The opposite also held true,
because politeness and the verbal circumlocutions used by many other species
simply confused and irritated them.

"Nurse Tarsedth," Lioren said suddenly, "I am feeling very unwell, but on the
psychological rather than the physical level. The therapy O'Mara is using in my
case is not yet clear to me, but the fact that I have visited the dining hall
for the first time since the trial, even though accompanied by two protectors,
suggests that it is beginning to work, or that my condition may be improving in
spite of it. If your questions are prompted by more than mere curiosity and the
offer of help intended to be taken as more than a verbal kindness, I suggest
that you ask for details of the therapy and its progress, if any, from the Chief
Psychologist."

"Are you stupid?" the Kelgian said, its silvery pelt tufting suddenly into
spikes. "I would not dare ask a question like that. O'Mara would tear my fur off
in small pieces!"

"Probably," Cha Thrat said as Tarsedth was leaving, "without benefit of
anesthetic."

Their food trays slid from the table's delivery recess to the accompaniment of
an audible signal that kept him from hearing the Kelgian's reply. Braithwaite
said, "So that's what Tarlans eat," and thereafter kept its eyes averted from
Lioren's platter.

In spite of having to eat and speak with the same orifice, the Earth-human kept
up a continuous dialogue with Cha Thrat, during which they both left
conversational gaps enticingly open so that Lioren could join in. Plainly they
were doing their best both to put him at ease and keep his attention from the
nearby tables where everyone was watching him, but, with a member of a species
who had to make a conscious mental effort not to look in every direction at
once, they were having little success. It was also plain that he was undergoing
psychotherapy of a not very subtle form.

He knew that Cha Thrat and Braithwaite were fully informed about his case, but
they were trying to make him repeat the information verbally so as to gauge his
present feelings about himself and those around him. The method they were using
was to exchange what appeared to be highly confidential and often personal
information about themselves, their past lives, their personal feelings about
the department and toward O'Mara and other entities on the hospital staff with
whom they had had pleasant or unpleasant contact, in the hope that Lioren would
reciprocate. He listened with great interest but did not speak except in answer
to direct questions from them or from staff members who stopped from time to
time at their table.

Questions from the silver-furred Kelgians he answered as simply and directly as
they were asked. To the shy well-wishings of a massive, six-legged Hudlar whose
body was covered only by a recently applied coat of nutrient paint and the tiny
ID patch of an advanced student nurse he replied with polite thanks. He also
thanked an Earth-human called Timmins, wearing a Monitor Corps uniform with
Maintenance insignia, who hoped that the Tarlan environment in his quarters had
been properly reproduced, and said that if there was anything else that would
make him feel more comfortable he should not hesitate to ask for it. A Melfan
wearing the gold-edged band of a Senior Physician on one crablike arm stopped to
say that it was pleased to see him making use of the dining hall, because it had
wanted to speak to the Tarlan but that, regrettably on this occasion, it was due
in ELNT Surgery. Lioren told it that he intended using the dining hall regularly
in the future and that there would be other opportunities to talk.

That reply seemed to please Braithwaite and Cha Thrat, and when the Melfan
Senior left them they resumed the conversation whose gaps Lioren steadfastly
refused to fill. If he had chosen to speak and reveal his feelings just then, it
would have been to say that, having been condemned to live for the terrible
crime he had committed, he must accept as part of the punishment these constant
reminders of his guilt.

He did not think they would be pleased to hear that.

The members of the Psychology Department, Lioren discovered, were free to move
anywhere within the hospital and talk to or question, at any time which did not
adversely affect the performance of the individual's professional duties,
everyone from the lowest trainee nurse or maintenance person up to the near
godlike Diagnosticians themselves, and it came as no surprise that their
authority to pry into everyone else's most private and personal concerns made
them very few friends among the staff. The surprises were the manner in which
these multispecies psychologists were recruited and their prior professional
qualifications, if any.

O'Mara had joined Sector General shortly before it had been commissioned, as a
structural engineer, and the work it had done among the original staff and
patients that resulted in its promotion to major and Chief Psychologist was no
longer open for study, although there was a rumor that it had once wet-nursed an
orphaned infant Hudlar unaided and without benefit either of heavy-lifting
machinery or translation devices, but that story Lioren considered to be too
wildly improbable to have any basis in fact.

From the words spoken and unspoken it seemed that Lieutenant Braithwaite's
career had begun in the Corps's Other-Species Communications and Cultural
Contact Division, where initially it had shown great promise and an even greater
impatience with its superiors. It was enthusiastic, dedicated, self-reliant, and
intuitive where its work was concerned, and whether its intuition proved
trustworthy, as happened in the majority of cases, or unsafe, the result was
deeply stressful to those in authority. Its attempt to expedite the First
Contact procedure on Keran by circumventing the philosophically conservative
priesthood caused a citywide religious riot in which many Keranni were killed
and injured. Thereafter it was disciplined before being transferred to a number
of subordinate administrative positions, none of which proved suitable either to
Braithwaite or its superiors, before coming to Sector General. For a short time
it was attached to the Maintenance Department's internal-communications section
until, in an attempt to rewrite and simplify the multispecies translation
program, it knocked down the main computer and left the entire hospital staff
and patients unable to do anything but bark, gobble, or cheep unintelligibly at
each other for several hours. Colonel Skempton had been less impressed by what
Braithwaite had hoped to do than by the havoc it had caused, and was about to
banish it to the loneliest and most distant Monitor Corps outpost in the
Federation when O'Mara had intervened on its behalf.

Similarly, Cha Thrat's career had been beset by personal and professional
difficulties. It was the first and so far only Som-maradvan female to qualify
and practice as a warrior-surgeon, a position of great eminence in a profession
which was otherwise exclusively male. Lioren was unsure of what a warrior-
surgeon of that planet was supposed to be or do, but it had been able to treat
successfully a member of an off-planet species, an Earth-human Monitor Corps
officer very seriously injured in a flier crash, that Cha Thrat had encountered
for the first time. Impressed by its surgical skills and flexibility of mind,
the Corps had offered it the opportunity of training in multispecies surgery at
Sector Twelve General Hospital. Cha Thrat had accepted because, unlike on its
home world, the other-species doctors there would judge it on professional merit
without caring whether it was male or female.

But the intense dedication and rigorous clinical disciplines of a warrior-
surgeon of Sommaradva, which in many respects resembled those of Lioren's own
Tarlan medical fraternity, were not those of Sector General. Cha Thrat did not
go into the details of its misdemeanors, suggesting instead that any member of
the staff would be eager to satisfy Lioren's curiosity in the matter, but the
impression given was that as a trainee it had exercised its clinical initiative
too freely, and too often proved its nominal superiors wrong. After one
particular incident during which it had temporarily lost one of its own limbs,
no ward in the hospital would accept it for training and it, like Braithwaite,
had been transferred to Maintenance until a major act of insubordination
warranted by the clinical situation at the time brought about its dismissal.
And, again like Braithwaite, it was O'Mara who had kept Cha Thrat from leaving
the hospital by recruiting it for the department.

As the conversation that was designed both to inform and to draw him out
continued, Lioren felt a growing sympathy for these two entities. Like himself
they had been cursed with too much intelligence, individuality, and initiative
and had suffered grievously thereby.

Naturally, their crimes were insignificant compared with Lioren's own, because
they were psychologically flawed misfits rather than criminals and not fully
responsible for the wrongs they had done. But were they confessing those
misdeeds to him in the form of an apparently unimportant exchange of gossip,
ostensibly so that he would better understand them and the situation within the
department? Or was it an attempt to assuage their own guilt by trying to help
him? He could not be sure because they were concealing their true feelings,
unlike himself, by talking too much rather than by remaining silent. The thought
that they might not be suffering at all, that their efforts to help Lioren and
their other department duties made them forget their past misdeeds came to
trouble him, but he dismissed the idea as ridiculous. One could no more forget a
past crime than one's own name.

"Lioren," Braithwaite said suddenly. "You are not eating and neither are you
talking to us. Would you prefer to return to the office?"

"No," Lioren said, "not immediately. It is clear to me that this visit to the
dining hall was a psychological test and that my words and behavior have been
closely observed. You have also, almost certainly as part of the test, been
answering questions about yourselves without my having to ask them, some of them
personal questions which I would have considered it most impolite to ask. Now I
will ask one question directly of you. As a result of these observations, what
are your conclusions?"

Braithwaite remained silent, but with a small movement of its head indicated
that Cha Thrat was to answer.

"You have heard and will understand," the Sommaradvan said, "that I am a
warrior-surgeon forbidden to practice my true art and am not yet a fully-
qualified wizard. For this reason the spells that I cast lack subtlety, as your
words have already shown, and are quite transparent. There is a risk that my
observations and conclusions, too, may be oversimplified and inaccurate. They
are that my spell aimed at bringing you out of the seclusion of the office and
your quarters to the dining hall was unsuccessful in that you reacted calmly and
with no apparent emotional distress to the entities who approached you. It was
unsuccessful in that it did not overcome your unwillingness to reveal personal
feelings, which was another and more important purpose of the test. My
conclusion is that any future visits to the dining hall should be unaccompanied
unless the accompaniment be for social rather than therapeutic reasons."

Braithwaite nodded its head in the Earth-human gesture of silent agreement. "As
the subject of this partially successful test, Lioren, what are your own
conclusions about it? Express your feelings about that, at least, freely as
would a Kelgian, and do not spare ours."

Lioren was silent for a moment, then said, "I feel curious as to why, in this
age of advanced medicine and technology, Cha Thrat considers itself to be a
wizard, unqualified or otherwise. I also feel surprise and concern regarding the
personal information you have revealed to me. At the risk of being grossly
offensive, I can only conclude that ... Is the Psychology Department staffed
with insubordinate misfits and entities with a history of emotional
disturbance?''

Cha Thrat made an untranslatable sound and the Earth-human barked softly.

"Without exception," Braithwaite said.


Chapter 7

NEVER in all his long years as a student on Tarla and during his advanced
training at Sector General had Lioren been given such a woolly-minded and
imprecise set of instructions.

Surely Major O'Mara, who was reputed to possess one of the finest and most
analytical minds in the hospital, should not be capable of issuing such
instructions. Not for the first time Lioren wondered if the Chief Psychologist,
charged as it was with the heavy responsibility of maintaining the mental health
of close on ten thousand medical and maintenance staff belonging to sixty-odd
different species, had been affected by one of the non- physical maladies it was
expected to treat. Or was it simply that Lioren, as the department's most recent
and least knowledgeable recruit, had misunderstood the other's words?

"For my own mental clarification and to reduce the possibility of
misunderstanding," Lioren said carefully, "may I repeat my instructions aloud?''

"If you think it necessary," the Chief Psychologist replied. From Lioren's
growing experience of reading Earth-human voice sounds and the expressions on
their flabby, yellow-pink faces, he knew that O'Mara was losing patience.

Ignoring the nonverbal content of the response, Lioren said, "I am to observe
Senior Physician Seldal, for as long and as often as the subject's duty schedule
and my other work allows, without drawing attention to the fact that it is under
observation. I am to look for evidence of abnormal or uncharacteristic behavior
even though you are aware that, to a Tarlan BRLH like myself, normal and
characteristic behavior in a Nallajim of physiological classification LSVO would
appear equally strange to me. I am to do this without any prior indication of
what it is that I am to look for or, indeed, if there is anything to look for in
the first place. If I am able to detect such behavior, I should try, covertly,
to discover the reason for it, and my report should include suggestions for
remedial treatment.

"But what," he went on when it was clear that the other was not going to speak,
"if I cannot detect any abnormality?"

"Negative evidence," O'Mara said, "can also be valuable."

"Is it your intention that I proceed in complete ignorance," Lioren asked, anger
making him forget for a moment the deference due to a nominal superior, "or will
I be allowed to study the subject's psych file?"

"You may study it to your heart's content," O'Mara said. "And if you have no
further questions, Charge Nurse Kursen-neth is waiting."

"I have an observation and a question," Lioren said quickly. "This seems to me
to be a particularly imprecise method of briefing a trainee on his first case.
Surely I should be given some indication of what is wrong with Seldal. I mean,
what did the Senior Physician do to arouse your suspicions in the first place?

O'Mara exhaled noisily. "You have been assigned the Seldal case, and you have
not been told what to do because I don't know what to do with it, either."

Lioren made a surprised sound which did not translate and said, "Does the
possibility exist that the most experienced other-species psychologist in the
hospital is faced with a case that it is incapable of solving?''

"Other possibilities you might consider," O'Mara said, leaning back into its
chair, "is that the problem does not exist. Or that it is a minor one and so
unimportant that no serious harm will result if it was to be mishandled by a
trainee. It is also possible that more urgent problems are claiming my attention
and this is the reason why you have been given this small and nonurgent one.

"For the first time you are being given access to the psych file of a Senior
Physician," it went on before Lioren could reply. "It might also be that, as a
trainee, you are expected to discover for yourself what it was that aroused my
suspicions, and in the light of your subsequent investigation to decide whether
or not they were justified."

Embarrassed, Lioren allowed his four medial limbs to go limp so that the
fingertips touched the floor, the sign that he was defenseless before the just
criticism of a superior. O'Mara would understand the significance of the
gesture, but the Earth-human chose to ignore it and went on, "The most important
part of our work here is to be constantly on the lookout for abnormal or
uncharacteristic behavior in each and every member of the staff, whatever the
species or circumstances, and ultimately to develop an instinct for detecting
the cause of such trouble before it can seriously affect the being concerned,
other staff members or patients. Are your objections based on an unwillingness
to speak at length, rather than the necessarily brief conversations held in the
dining hall, because the subject of your past misdeeds would be sure to come up
and this would cause you severe emotional distress?''

"No," Lioren said firmly. "Any such discomfort would be as nothing compared with
the punishment I deserve."
O'Mara shook its head. "That is not a good response, Lioren, but for now I shall
accept it. Send in Kursenneth as you leave."

The Kelgian Charge Nurse undulated rapidly into the inner office, its silvery
fur rippling with impatience, as Lioren closed the door behind him and dropped
into his work position with enough force to make the support structure protest
audibly. The only other person in the outer office was Braithwaite, whose
attention was focused on its visual display. Muttering angrily, he bent over the
console to key in his personal ID and departmental authorization with the
request for the Seldal material, optioning for the printed rather than the
Tarlan audio translation.

"Are you addressing me or yourself?" Braithwaite asked, looking up suddenly from
its work and displaying its teeth. "Either speak a little louder so I can hear
you, or more quietly so I can't."

"I am not addressing anyone," Lioren said. "I am thinking aloud about O'Mara and
its unreasonable expectations of me. Mistakenly I assumed that I was speaking in
an undertone, and I apologize for distracting you from your work."

Braithwaite sat back in its chair, looked at the closely printed sheets that
were piling up on Lioren's desktop and said, "So he gave you the Seldal case.
But there is no need to agitate yourself. If you can produce a result at all,
you would not be expected to do so overnight. And if you should tire of delving
into the not very murky recesses of a Nallajim Senior's mind, the latest batch
of trainee progress reports from Cresk-Sar are on your desk. I would like you to
update the relevant personnel files before the end of next shift."

"Of course," Lioren said. Braithwaite showed its teeth again and returned to its
work.

Senior Physician Cresk-Sar had been his clinical tutor during his first year at
the hospital and it was still a person totally impossible to please. Reading its
characteristically pessimistic report on the apparent lack of progress of the
current intake of student nurses, Lioren wondered for a moment whether he should
give priority to the deadly dull but important material from the Senior Tutor or
to the more interesting but probably less productive psych file on Seldal.
Dutifully, as befitted the most junior member of the department, he decided on
the former.

A few moments later, while he was reading the clinical competence appraisal and
promotion options for a Kelgian student nurse whose name was familiar to him, he
abruptly changed his mind and called up the Seldal file. He began studying it so
closely that he scarcely noticed the departure of Kursenneth and the arrival of
a Tralthan intern who lumbered into the inner office on its six massive feet.
But the noise had caused Braithwaite to look up, and Lioren made a polite,
untranslatable sound designed to attract the lieutenant's attention.

"This is interesting," he said, "but the only parts that I fully understand are
the LSVO physiological and environmental data. I don't know enough about
Nallajim interpersonal behavior in general and Seldal in particular to be able
to detect any abnormality. It would be better if I was to observe Seldal
directly for a period, and talk to it if this can be done without arousing its
suspicions, so that I will have a clearer idea of the entity I am
investigating."

"It's your case," Braithwaite said.
"Then that is what I shall do," Lioren said, securing the Seldal and Cresk-Sar
material and preparing to leave.

"And I agree," the lieutenant said, returning to its work, "that doing anything
else is preferable to wading through Cresk-Sar's god-awful boring progress
reports ..."

A quick reference to the senior staff duty roster told Lioren that Seldal would
be in the Melfan OR on the seventy-eighth level. Allowing for traffic density in
the intervening corridors and a delay while changing into a protective envelope
before taking the shortcut through the level of the chlorine-breathing Illensan
PVSJs, he should be able to see the Senior Physician before it left for its
midday meal.

As yet Lioren had no clear idea of what he would do or say when he was
confronted with his first nonsurgical case, and on the way there was no
opportunity to think of anything other than avoiding embarrassment or injury by
tripping over or colliding violently with staff members.

Theoretically the entities possessing the greater medical seniority had the
right of way, but not for the first time he saw a Senior belonging to one of the
smaller physiological classifications take hasty evasive action when a six-
limbed Hudlarian FROB Charge Nurse with eight times the body mass and an urgent
task to perform bore down on it. In such cases it was reassuring to see that the
instinct for survival took precedence over rank, although the ensuing contact
was verbally rather than physically violent.

With Lioren, however, there was no problem. His trainee's armband indicated that
he had no rank at all and should get out of everyone's way.

Two crablike Melfan ELNTs and a chlorine-breathing Illen san PVSJ chittered and
hissed their displeasure at him as he dodged between them at an intersection;
then he jumped aside as a multiply absentminded Tralthan Diagnostician lumbered
heavily toward him, and in so doing accidentally jostled a tiny, red-furred
Nidian intern, who barked in reproof.

Even though their physiological classifications varied enormously, the majority
of the staff were warm-blooded oxygen-breathers like himself. A much greater
hazard to navigation were the entities traversing what was to them a foreign
level in protective armor. The local protection needed by a TLTU doctor, who
breathed superheated steam and whose pressure and gravity requirements were many
times greater than the environment of the oxygen levels, was a great, clanking
juggernaut which had to be avoided at all costs.

In the PVSJ transfer lock he donned a lightweight envelope and let himself into
the yellow, foggy world of the chlorine-breathers. There the corridors were less
crowded, and it was the spiny, membranous, and unadorned denizens of Illensa who
were in the majority while the Tralthans, Kelgians, and a single Tarlan,
himself, wore or in some cases drove protective armor.

The greatly reduced volume of pedestrian traffic gave Lioren a chance to think
again about his strangely imprecise assignment, his department, and the work
that he had been sentenced to perform.

Even if he was able to prove that O'Mara's suspicions were unfounded,
investigating Seldal would be a unique experience for him. He would take the
case very seriously indeed, regardless of its probable minor nature, and if his
observations showed that Seldal really had a problem . . .

Lioren raised his four eyes briefly to offer up a prayer to his light-years-
distant God of Tarla, in whose existence he no longer believed, pleading for
guidance as to what was or was not abnormal behavior in one of the highly
intelligent, three-legged, nonflying birdlike natives of Nallaji. He lowered his
eyes in time to flatten himself against the wall as the mobile refrigerated
pressure envelope belonging to an ultra-low-temperature SNLU rolled silently
toward him from a side corridor. Irritated at his momentary lapse of attention,
Lioren resumed his journey.

Until now the only abnormal and dangerous behavior he had identified, and it was
a type all too prevalent in the hospital, was careless driving.


Chapter 8

LIOREN moved along the Melfan surgical ward at a pace which suggested that he
knew where he was going and what he intended doing when he got there. The
Illensan Charge Nurse on duty looked up from its desk, stirred restively within
its protective envelope, but otherwise ignored him, and the other nurses were
too busy attending to the post-op ELNTs even to notice his passing. But as he
walked between the double line of padded support frames which were the Melfan
equivalent of surgical beds it became clear that Senior Physician Seldal, in
spite of its name appearing on the ward's staff-on-duty board, was not present.
Neither was Student Nurse Tarsedth.

Among the Illensan, Kelgian, and Tralthan nurses working all around him a
Nallajim would have been hard to miss, which meant that it must still be in the
operating theater adjoining the ward. Lioren climbed the ascending ramp to the
observation gallery—a large number of the medical staff were physiologically
incapable of mounting stairs—and saw that he had guessed right. He also
discovered that there were two other observers in the gallery. As he had hoped
and half expected, one of them was Tarsedth, the Kelgian DBLF who had spoken to
him during his first visit to the dining hall several days earlier.

"What are you doing here?" the Kelgian asked, its fur rippling with erratic
waves of surprise. "After that mess you made on Cromsag they told us that you
would be having nothing to do with other-species bloodletting."

Lioren thought that it was a particularly dishonorable thing to lie to a member
of a species that was totally incapable of lying, so he decided on the
compromise of not telling all of the truth.

"I still retain mv interest in other-species surgery. Nurse Tar- sedth," he
said, "even though I am forbidden to practice it. Is the case interesting?''

"Not to me," Tarsedth said, returning its attention to the scene below them. "My
principal interest here is in the OR staff procedure, artificial gravity
controls, patient presentation, and instrument deployment, not all this surgical
pecking at some hapless Melfan's innards."

The other occupant of the gallery, an FROB, vibrated its speaking membrane in
the Hudlar equivalent of clearing its throat, and said, "I am interested in the
surgery, Lioren. As you can see, the operation is nearing completion. But if
there is any aspect of the earlier work of particular interest to you, I would
be pleased to discuss it."

Lioren turned all of his eyes on the speaker but was unable, as were the
majority of the hospital staff, to tell one Hudlar from another. The transparent
eye casings were featureless, as were the squat, heavy body and the six
tapering, immensely strong tentacles which supported it. The skin, which in
appearance and texture resembled a seamless covering of flexible armor, was
discolored by patches of dried-out, exhausted food, indicating that the being
was urgently in need of respraying with nutrient. But it seemed to know Lioren,
or knew of him. Was it possible that this friendly Hudlar, like Tarsedth, had
spoken to him earlier?

"Thank you," Lioren said. Choosing his words carefully, he went on, "I am
interested in Nallajim surgical procedure, and in particular how this one—"

"I thought all you Psychology people knew everything about everybody," Tarsedth
broke in, strong emotion agitating its fur. "You've read Cresk-Sar's reports on
us, so you know I am here, spending free time trying to familiarize myself with
other-species OR procedures. You know that I'm trying to impress our noxious
little Nidian tutor with my knowledge and interest in the subject so that it
will approve my request for a posting to the new ELNT theater on fifty-three,
and the early promotion that it would bring. I wouldn't be surprised if you were
sent here by O'Mara or Cresk-Sar.

"You know everything," Tarsedth ended, its pelt spiking into worried peaks, "but
Psychology people say nothing."

Lioren controlled his anger by reminding himself once again that the Kelgian
could not help expressing its true feelings, and his reply, so far as it went,
was equally blunt and honest.

"I came here to watch Seldal at work," he said, "and I have no interest in your
future plans or your method of furthering them. Cresk-Sar's latest report came
in this morning, and from reading it and earlier reports I have been made aware
of your progress in the most meticulous and boring detail. I am also aware that
the material in your file is confidential to my department and must not be
discussed with anyone outside it. However, I will say that you are—"

The Hudlar's speaking membrane vibrated suddenly as it said, "Lioren, be
careful. If you have information which should not be divulged, even though the
reasons appear to you to be unreasonable or administrative rather than
therapeutic, please remember that you are once again a trainee and your future
depends, like ours, in keeping our department heads happy or, at very least, not
actively antagonistic toward us because of disobedience or insubordination.

"Tarsedth is trying very hard for this promotion," it went on quickly, "and it
is irritated by what it considers to be the unnecessary secrecy regarding its
chances. But it would not wish reassurance or otherwise if the information you
gave it was to lead to your dismissal. Like the other nurse trainees, all of
whom have discussed you at great length, Tarsedth believes that your only hope
of coming to terms with your terrible problem is to remain within the hospital.

"Lioren," it ended, "please guard your tongue."

For a moment a sudden engagement of his emotions made it impossible for Lioren's
speech centers to function. It seemed that the dislike of the medical staff for
Psychology Department members was not general. But he must not forget that his
purpose in coming here was to collect information on Seldal, and the best way of
doing that might be to place these two entities under an obligation to him.

"As I was about to say," Lioren resumed, "I am forbidden to discuss restricted
material, whether it refers to the inner workings of the mind of a nurse-in-
training or that of the able and highly respected Senior Physician Cresk-Sar
..."

Tarsedth made a sound which did not translate, but the uneven ruffling of its
fur made it plain what the Kelgian thought of its principal tutor.

"However," he went on, "that does not preclude the discussion of such matters
between yourselves, or of you producing theories regarding your possible future
behavior based on past, firsthand knowledge of the entity concerned. You might
begin by considering the fact that, for a great many years, Cresk-Sar has been
noted for being the most dedicated, meticulous, pro-, fessionally
uncompromising, and personally unpleasant tutor on the staff. And that its
trainees suffer the most extreme mental and emotional discomfort, but rarely
fail their examinations. Perhaps because of the fear that they will disappoint
it by failing to achieve their full potential, the most promising students are
made to suffer the worst unpleasantness. You might also remember that Cresk-Sar
is so single-minded about its teaching duties that it frequently interrupts and
questions trainees regarding their progress during off-duty periods. You might
also consider the probable effect on such a tutor of a hypothetical trainee who
seems to be ambitious, dedicated, or stupid enough to spend free time, and even
forgo a meal as you are doing, in furthering that ambition.

"Having weighed all these factors yourselves," Lioren added, "you might consider
that our hypothetical trainee had nothing to worry about, and hypothetically I
would be forced to agree with you."

"Lioren," Tarsedth said, its fur settling into slow, relieved waves, "you are
breaking, or at least seriously deforming, the rules. And ambitious I may be but
stupid I am not; I packed a lunch box. But this one—" It pointed its head in the
Hudlar's direction. "—came away without its nutrient supply. It will have to be
very polite and apologetic, whatever that means, to the Charge Nurse and ask for
a quick spray, or it won't make our next lecture."

"I'm always polite and apologetic," the Hudlar said, "especially to Charge
Nurses, who must grow a little tired of forgetful, starving FROBs turning up at
odd times looking for a handout. It will be critical toward me, perhaps
personally abusive, but it won't refuse. After all, a Hudlar collapsing from
malnutrition in the middle of its ward would make the place look untidy.''

He looked closely at the Hudlar, whose smooth and incredibly dense body was
beginning to sag in spite of its six widely spaced tentacles. The FROB
classification were native to a very heavy-gravity planet with proportionately
high atmospheric pressure. The world's atmosphere resembled a thick, semiliquid
soup laden with tiny, airborne food particles, which were ingested by an
absorption mechanism covering its back and flanks, and, because the Hudlars were
intensely energy-hungry creatures, the process was continuous. In other-world
environments and at the hospital it had been found more convenient to spray them
at frequent intervals with nutrient paint. It was possible that this one had
found Seldal's procedure so interesting that it had allowed its energy reserves
to run dangerously low.
"Wait here," Lioren said briskly, "while I ask Charge Nurse for a sprayer. It
would be less troublesome for all concerned if you made the observation gallery
untidy instead of collapsing in the main ward. And up here we won't risk
spraying your smelly Hudlar nutrient onto its nice clean floor and patients."

By the time he returned with the nutrient tank and sprayer, the Hudlar's body
had settled to the floor with its tentacles twitching feebly and only soft,
untranslatable sounds coming from its speech membrane. Lioren used the sprayer
expertly and accurately—in common with his fellow Monitor Corps officers, he had
been taught to perform this favor for FROB personnel engaged in construction
work in airless conditions—and within a few minutes it was fully recovered.
Below them Seldal and its patient were no longer visible and the theater was
emptying of its OR staff.

"That particular act of charity caused you to miss the end of the operation,"
Tarsedth said, ruffling its fur disapprovingly at the Hudlar. "Seldal has left
for the dining hall and won't return until—"

"Your pardon, Tarsedth," the Hudlar broke in, "but you are forgetting that I
recorded the procedure in its entirety. I would be happy to have both of you
view a rerun in my place after lectures."

"No!" Tarsedth said. "Hudlars don't use beds or chairs and there would be
nowhere for a soft body like mine, or even Lioren's, to relax. And my place is
far too small to allow a couple of outsize thrennigs like you two inside. If it
is that interested, Lioren can always borrow your tape sometime."

"Or both of you could come to my room," Lioren said quickly. "I have never seen
a Nallajim surgeon perform and any comments you might make would be helpful to
me."

"When?" Tarsedth said.

He had arranged a time suitable for all three of them when the Hudlar said
quietly, "Lioren, are you sure that talking about other-species surgery will not
cause you emotional distress or that gossiping, for that is what we will be
doing, with people outside your department will not get you into trouble with
O'Mara?"

"Nonsense!" Tarsedth said. "Gossiping is the most satisfying nonphysical
activity between people. We'll see you then, Lioren, and this time I'll make
sure my overweight friend here remembers to bring a spare nutrient tank."

When they had gone, Lioren returned the exhausted tank to the Charge Nurse, who
needed to be reassured that the nutrient spray had not smeared the transparent
wall of the observation gallery. He had often wondered why every ward's Charge
Nurse, regardless of size, species, or environmental requirements, was so
fanatically insistent that its medical domain was kept at all times neat,
orderly, and scrupulously clean. But only now had he begun to realize that,
regardless of what the subordinate nursing staff might think of it personally,
the ward of a Charge Nurse who demanded perfection in the minor details was
particularly well suited to dealing with major emergencies.

Lioren felt   symptoms of a minor and nonpainful discomfort in his stomach that
was usually   attributable to excitement, non-physical pleasure, or hunger—on this
occasion he   thought that it might be a combination of all three. He plotted a
course that   would take him as quickly as possible to the dining hall, intent on
eliminating one of the possible causes, but he did not expect the symptoms to be
entirely relieved, because he was thinking about his first nonsurgical case.

Abasing himself to the professional level of a couple of trainee nurses—and him
a former Surgeon-Captain in the Monitor Corps—had not been as difficult as he
had thought, nor had it shamed him to the degree he had expected and deserved.
He was even pleased with himself for correctly deducing from Cresk-Sar's report
that Tarsedth would be observing Seldal's operation. After lunch, in order to
keep the entity Braithwaite happy, he would return to the office and deal with
the remainder of the Senior Tutor's report.

Altogether it promised to be a long, busy day and an even longer evening, during
which he would view the recording of

Seldal's operation and discuss the Nallajim's procedure at length. Having been
told of Lioren's abiding interest in other-species surgery, the two nurses would
be expecting many questions from him. In the circumstances it would be natural
for the conversation to wander from the operation to the personality, habits,
and behavior of the surgeon performing it. Everyone liked to gossip about their
superiors, and the quantity of highly personal information available usually
increased in direct proportion to the rank of the individual concerned. If he
was careful, this information could be abstracted in such a way that neither his
informants nor his case subject would be aware of what was happening.

As the beginning of a covert investigation, Lioren thought with a little shiver
of self-congratulation, it was faultless.


Chapter 9

“WlTH Nallajims," Tarsedth said while they were reviewing the Seldal operation
late that evening, "I can never make up my mind whether I 'm watching surgery or
other-species cannibalism."

"In their early, precurrency days," the Hudlar said, the modulation of its
speaking membrane suggesting that its words were not to be taken seriously,
"that was the only way a Nallajim doctor could obtain its fee from a patient."

"I am filled with admiration," Lioren said, "that a life-form with three legs,
two not-quite atrophied wings, and no hands at all could become a surgeon in the
first place. Or, for that matter, perform any of the other delicate manipulatory
functions which led to the evolution of intelligence and a technology-based
culture. They began with so many serious physiological disadvantages that—"

"They do it by poking their noses into the most unlikely places," Tarsedth said,
its fur rumpling with impatience. "Do you want to watch the operation or talk
about the surgeon?"

Both, Lioren thought, but he did not speak the word aloud.

The LSVO physiological classification to which Seldal belonged was a warm-
blooded, oxygen-breathing species which had evolved on Nallaji, a large world
whose high rotational velocity, dense atmosphere, and low gravity in the
intensely fertile equatorial regions had combined to provide an environment
suited to the proliferation of avian life-forms. It had been an environment
which enabled airborne predators to evolve which were large both in variety and
size, but so heavily armed and armored that they had gradually rendered
themselves extinct. Over the millennia while this incredibly violent process was
working itself out, the relatively tiny LSVOs had been forced out of the skies
and their high, vulnerable nests and had taken to the shelter of the trees, deep
gullies, and caves.

Very quickly they had to adapt to sharing the ground with the small animals and
insects which had formerly been their prey.

Gradually the Nallajim had lost the ability for sustained flight, and as a
species they had progressed too far along the evolutionary path for their wings
to become arms, or even for their wingtips to subdivide into the digits suitable
for the fabrication of tools or weapons. But it was the savage, mindless, and
continuing threat from insects large and small who infested, and by their sheer
numbers dominated, the land as the giant avians interdicted the air that brought
about the minor changes in bone structure and musculature of the beak that
caused the Nallajim to develop intelligence.

Handless but no longer helpless, they had been forced to use their heads.

On Nallaji, the winged insects that swarmed and stung their prey to death were
outnumbered by those that burrowed and laid eggs deep within the sleeping bodies
of their victims. The only way these burrowing insects could be removed was by
pecking them out with the long, thin, flexible Nallajim beak.

From being a simple family and tribal debugging device, the LSVO beak progressed
to a stage where it was capable of fabricating quite complex insect-proof
dwellings, tools, insect-killing weapons, cities, and ultimately starships.

"Seldal is fast," Lioren said admiringly, after one particu- larly delicate
piece of deep surgery, "and it gives remarkably few instructions to its OR
staff.''

"Use your eyes," Tarsedth said. "It doesn't have to talk to them because the
staff are engaged in supporting the patient more than the surgeon. Look at the
way its beak jabs all over that instrument rack. By the time it gave directions
to a nurse and the correct instrument was stuck onto its beak, Seldal could have
obtained the instrument unaided, completed the incision, and been ready for the
next stage.

"With this surgeon," the Kelgian went on, "it is the choice and disposition of
the racked instruments that is important. There is no juggling with clamps and
cutters, no verbal distractions, no tantrums because an OR nurse is slow or
misunderstands. I think I'd like to work with this birdbrained Senior
Physician."

The conversation, Lioren thought, was moving away from Seldal's operation to the
subject of Seldal itself, which was exactly what he had been hoping would
happen. But before he could take advantage of the situation, the Hudlar, who was
plainly another enthusiast where Nallajim surgery was concerned, tried to be
helpful while displaying its own expertise.

"Its procedure is very fast and may seem to be confusing to you, Lioren," it
said, "especially since you have told us that you have no prior surgical
experience with Melfan ELNTs. As you can see, the patient's six limbs and all of
the body are exoskeletal. The vital organs are housed within that thick, osseous
carapace and are so well protected that traumatic injury rarely occurs although
these organs are, unfortunately, subject to a number of dysfunctions which
require surgical intervention ..."

"You," Tarsedth broke in, its fur spiking with irritation, "are beginning to
sound like Cresk-Sar."

"I'm sorry," the Hudlar said. "I only meant to explain what Seldal was doing,
not bring back unpleasant memories of our tutor."

"Do not trouble yourself," Lioren said. The Hudlar FROBs were acknowledged to be
the physically strongest life-forms of the Galactic Federation and with the
least-pervious body tegument, but emotionally their skins were extremely thin.
He added, "Please continue, so long as you don't ask questions afterward."

The Hudlar's membrane vibrated with an untranslatable sound. "I won't. But I was
trying to explain why speed is so important during Melfan surgery. The major
internal organs float in a shock-absorbent fluid and are only tethered loosely
to the interior walls of the carapace and underside. When the fluid is removed
temporarily prior to surgery, the organs are no longer supported and they sink
onto each other with consequent compression and deformation effects which
include restriction of the blood supply. Irreversible changes take place which
could result in termination of the patient if the situation is allowed to
continue for more than a few minutes."

With an intensity that shocked his sensorium like a traumatic injury, Lioren
found himself wishing suddenly for the impossible, for a recent past that had
taken a different turning and would have allowed him to share this trainee's
enthusiasm for other-species surgery rather than a demeaning and probably
unproductive interest in the surgeon's mind. The thought that the pain, no
matter how severe or often it came, would always be less than he deserved
brought little comfort.

"Normally an ELNT surgical procedure requires a large operative field and many
assistants," the Hudlar went on, "whose principal purpose is to support these
no-longer-floating organs on specially shaped pans while the surgeon-in-charge
performs the operation proper. This procedure has the disadvantages of requiring
an unnecessarily large opening in the carapace to allow entry of the supporting
instruments, and the healing of such a wound is slow and sometimes leads to
unsightly scarring and discoloration where the section of carapace was
temporarily removed. This can lead to severe emotional trauma in the patient
because the carapace, the richness and graduations of its color and
individuality in pattern, plays an important part in the courtship process. With
a single Nallajim operating, however, the greater speed of this procedure
combined with the smaller entry wound reduces both the size and the possibility
of a disfigurement occurring postoperatively."

"A good thing, too," Tarsedth said, its fur rippling in vehement sympathy.
Kelgian DBLFs had the same feelings about their mobile, silvery fur as the
Melfan ELNTs about their beautifully marked carapaces. "But would you look at
the way it is pecking at the operative field, sometimes with its naked beak,
like a bloody astigmatic vulture!"

Seldal's instrument rack was suspended vertically just beyond the operative
field, within easy reach of the surgeon's beak. Each recess contained
specialized instruments with hollow, conical grips that enabled the Nallajim's
upper, lower, or entire beak to enter and grasp, use, replace, or discard them
with bewildering rapidity. Occasionally Seldal went in with nothing but the two,
long, cylindrical lenses that extended from its tiny eyes almost to the tip of
its beak—which had been strapped in position for the duration of the operation—
to correct its avian tendency for long-sightedness. Its three claws were wrapped
tightly around the perch attached to the operating frame, and the stubby wings
fluttered constantly to give it additional stability when it jabbed with its
beak.

"In early times," the Hudlar said, "both the eggs and the egg-laying insects
which had to be removed from the patients were edible, and it was considered
proper for the surgeon to ingest them. Melfan tissue would not be harmful to a
Nallajim, and you will remember from basic training that any ELNT pathogens it
contained would not affect or infect an entity who had evolved on a different
world. But in a multispecies hospital like Sector General eating parts of a
patient, however small, can be emotionally disturbing to onlookers, so you will
note that all such material is discarded.

"The operation," the Hudlar went on, "is to remove—"

"It surprises me," Lioren broke in, again trying to guide the conversation back
to the surgeon rather than its work, "that a same-species surgeon, Senior
Physician Edanelt, for example, was not assigned to the case instead of a life-
form who requires a Melfan Educator tape to—"

"That," Tarsedth said, "would be like expecting Diagnostician Conway to forgo
all other-species surgery until it had first treated the Earth-human DBDGs in
the hospital. Don't be stupid, Lioren. Operating on an other-species patient is
far more interesting and exciting than one of your own kind, and the more
physiological differences there are the greater the professional challenge. But
you know all this already. On Cromsag you treated—"

"There is no need to remind me of the results," Lioren said sharply, irritated
in spite of knowing that the other could not help being irritating. "I was about
to say that Seldal, who has a beak and no arms, is showing no signs of mental
confusion while its mind is partially under the control of a being accus- tomed
to using six limbs all of which are capable of various degrees of manipulation.
The psychological and emotional pressure, not to mention the input from its
mind-partner's involuntary muscle system, must be considerable."

"Yes," the Hudlar said. "Obviously it has good control of both minds. But I
wonder how I, another six-limbed being, would feel if I had to take a Nallajim
tape. I don't have a beak equivalent or even a mouth."

"Don't waste time worrying about it," Tarsedth said. "Educator tapes are only
offered to those studious, highly intelligent, and emotionally stable types who
are being considered for promotion to Senior Physician or higher. The way Cresk-
Sar criticizes our work, can you imagine one of us ever being offered an
Educator tape?"

Lioren did not speak. Much stranger things had happened in Sector General—the
staff records showed that Thornnastor's principal assistant, the DBDG Earth-
human Pathologist Mur-chison, had joined the hospital as a trainee nurse—but it
was a strict rule of the department that the subject of a long-term promotion
should not be discussed with trainees who were being considered for it nor,
except in the most general terms, any of the problems associated with the
Educator-tape system.
The major problem from which all the others stemmed was that, while Sector
General was equipped to treat every known form of intelligent life, no single
entity could hold in its mind even a fraction of the physiological data
necessary for this purpose. Surgical dexterity was a product of aptitude,
training, and experience, but the complete information covering the physiology
of a given patient could only be transferred artificially by Educator tape,
which was the brain record of some great medical authority belonging to the same
species as that of the patient to be treated.

If a Melfan doctor was assigned to a Kelgian patient, it was given a DBLF tape
until the treatment was complete, after which the mind recording was erased. The
exceptions to this rule were the Senior Physicians of proven emotional stability
such as Sel-dal, and the Diagnosticians.

The Diagnosticians were those rare beings whose minds were stable enough to
retain permanently six, seven, and in one case up to ten physiology tapes
simultaneously. To these data-crammed minds were given the initiation and
direction of orig- inal research in xenological medicine in addition to the
practice and teaching of their considerable art.

The tapes, however, imparted not only the physiological data required for
treatment, but the entire memory and personality of the donor entity as well. In
effect a Diagnostician, and to a lesser extent a Senior Physician, subjected
itself voluntarily to an extreme form of multiple schizophrenia. The donor
entities apparently sharing the host doctor's mind could be aggressive,
unpleasant individuals—geniuses were rarely nice people—with all sorts of pet
peeves and phobias. Normally these would not become apparent during the course
of an operation or treatment because both host and donor minds were
concentrating on the purely medical aspects of the work. The worst effects were
felt when the possessor of the tape was sleeping.

Alien nightmares, Lioren knew from a few of his own tape experiences, were
really nightmarish. And alien sexual fantasies were enough to make the host mind
wish, if it was capable of wishing coherently for anything at the time, that it
was dead. He could not even imagine the physical and emotional effect of the
sensorium of an enormous, intelligent crustacean on the mind of a ridiculously
fragile but equally intelligent bird.

He continued to watch the frenetically active Seldal while recalling the saying
often repeated among the hospital staff that anyone who was sane enough to
practice as a Diagnostician was mad, a remark reputed to have originated with
O'Mara itself.

"Seldal's ELNT procedure fascinates me," Lioren said, firmly returning to the
subject of his investigation. "It shows no hesitation whatever, no pauses for
thought or reconsideration, none of the too-careful movements one sees with
Educator-tape work. Is it like this with other life-forms?"

"With respect, Lioren," the Hudlar said, "at the speed it works would you notice
an awkward pause if you saw one? We have watched it perform an Earth-human
gastrectomy and, among others, do something to a DBLF that Tarsedth had better
explain to you since the Kelgian reproductive mechanism is proving difficult for
me to understand—"

"You should talk!" Tarsedth broke in. "Every time a Hudlar mother produces
offspring it changes to male mode. That's— that's indecentl"
"Presumably these patients required only short-duration Educator taping,'' the
Hudlar went on, ' 'but Seldal accommodated itself to them without apparent
difficulty. For the past six weeks it has been engaged principally on Tralthan
surgery and says that it finds the work most interesting, stimulating, and
comfortable, next to working on another Nallajim—"

"Another female Nallajim, it means," Tarsedth said, ruffling its fur in
disapproval, or perhaps envy. "Do you know that in the three years that Seldal
has been here it has been nested by nearly every female LSVO on the staff? What
they see to ruffle their tail feathers in such a scrawny, self-effacing
nonentity is beyond my understanding."

"Is my translator faulty," Lioren asked, trying to hide his excitement at
acquiring this new and potentially useful datum, "or am I to understand that
Seldal actually discussed its Educator-tape problems with a couple of
trainees?''

"The discussion was perfunctory," the Hudlar said before Tarsedth could reply,
"and was concerned with personal preferences rather than problems. Seldal is
very approachable, for a Senior, and usually invites post-op questions from
anyone who has been watching from the observation gallery. There wasn't time
this morning or you could have asked questions yourself.

"In any case," it went on, turning itself ponderously to regard Tarsedth, "my
interest in Seldal's love life, which seems to have become less gaudy in recent
weeks, is at best academic. But even among my own species it is not uncommon for
female-mode persons to be attracted to males who have personalities which are as
shy and timid as that of Seldal. Such people are frequently more sensitive,
unhurried, and interesting as lovers."

It returned its attention to Lioren and continued. "To modify a saying of one of
our classmates, which seems to apply to activities associated with same-species
reproduction, a faint heart sometimes wins the fair lady."

"It's talking about Hadley," Tarsedth explained, "an Earth-human trainee. It was
supposed to have gone into the maintenance tunnels with ..."

He had not heard that particular item of gossip before, probably because no
official notice had been taken of the incident or the grapevine had been already
overloaded with even more scandalous material that day. The story of Hadley's
misdemeanor was followed by others, many of which had found their way to his
department in the form of much less interesting psych-file updates which were,
regrettably, free of Tarsedth's creative exaggeration. He was forced to use
every verbal stra-tegem he could devise to bring the conversation back to the
Nallajim Senior and keep it there.

Lioren was discovering many interesting facts about Seldal's behavior,
personality, and interests. It was information which he would not have been able
to obtain from the Senior Physician's file. So far as his assignment was
concerned, the evening was being spent profitably and, he thought with
increasing feelings of guilt, very enjoyably.


Chapter 10

THE following morning's work period was sufficiently far advanced for his
digestive system to begin complaining that it had nothing to engage its
attention when Braithwaite walked slowly across to Lioren's desk. Placing its
flabby pink hands palms downward on an uncluttered area of the work surface, it
bent its arms so that its head was close to his and said quietly, "You haven't
spoken a word for more than four hours. Is there a problem?''

Lioren leaned back, irritated by the uninvited close approach of the being, and
by the fact that on several previous occasions it had criticized him for talking
too much. Even though Braithwaite was showing concern and trying to be helpful,
he wished that his immediate superior's behavior would not vacillate so. There
were times when he much preferred the approach of O'Mara, who was, at least,
consistently nasty.

At the adjacent desk, Cha Thrat was concentrating even more intently on its
screen as it pretended not to listen. For some reason Lioren's problems, and
some of his suggested solutions, had been a source of considerable amusement
over the past few days, but this time it was going to be disappointed.

"The reason for my silence," he replied, "is that I was con- centrating on
clearing the routine work so as to have more time available for Seldal. There is
no specific problem, merely a discouraging lack of progress in every direction."

Braithwaite removed its hands from his desk and straightened up. Showing its
teeth, it asked, "In which direction are you progressing least?"

Lioren made the Gesture of Impatience with two of his medial limbs and said, "It
is difficult to quantify negative progress. Over the past few days I have
observed Seldal's performance of major surgery and discussed the subject's
behavior with other observers, during which information emerged which was not
available from its psych file. The new material is based on unsupported gossip
and may not be entirely factual. The subject is highly respected and popular
among its medical subordinates. This popularity seems to be deserved rather than
deliberately sought. I cannot find any abnormality in this entity."

"Obviously that is not your final conclusion," said Braithwaite, "or you
wouldn't be trying to free more time for the investigation. How do you plan to
spend this time?"

Lioren thought for a moment, then said, "Since it will not always be possible to
question observers or its OR staff without revealing the reason for my
questions, I shall have to ask—"

"No!" Braithwaite said sharply, the hairy crescents on its face lowering so that
they almost hid its eyes. "You must not question the subject directly. If you
should discover anything amiss, report it to O'Mara and do or say nothing to
Seldal itself. You will please remember that."

"I am unlikely to forget," Lioren said quietly, "what happened the last time I
used my initiative."

For a moment there was neither sound nor movement from Cha Thrat or Braithwaite,
but the Earth-human's facial pigmentation was deepening in color. Lioren went
on. "I was about to say that I would have to question Seldal's patients,
discreetly, in the hope of detecting by hearsay any unusual changes in the
subject's behavior during its visits before and after surgery. For this I need a
list and present locations of Seldal's post-op patients and the timing of its
ward rounds so that I can talk to them without meeting the subject itself. To
avoid comment by the ward staff concerned it would be better if someone other
than myself requested this information."

Braithwaite nodded its head.' 'A sensible precaution. But what will be your
excuse for speaking to these patients and for talking to them about Seldal?''

"The reason I shall give for visiting them," Lioren replied, "will be to ask for
any comments or criticism they may have regarding the environmental aspects of
their various recovery wards, since this is an important nonmedical aid to
recuperation and the department carries out such checks from time to time. I
shall not ask the patients about their medical condition or their surgeon. But I
have no doubt that both subjects will arise naturally and, while pretending
disinterest, I shall gather as much information as I can."

"A finely woven, intricate, and well-concealed spell," Cha Thrat said before
Braithwaite could speak. "My compliments, Lioren. Already you show promise of
becoming a great wizard."

Braithwaite nodded its head again. "You seem to be covering all eventualities.
Is there any other information or help you need?"

"Not at present," Lioren said.

He was not being completely truthful, because he wanted clarification of Cha
Thrat's compliment, which, to a highly qualified former medic like himself, had
verged on the insulting. Perhaps "spell" and "wizard," which were words that Cha
Thrat used frequently, had different meanings on Sommaradva than on Tarla. But
it seemed that his curiosity was soon to be satisfied, because the Sommaradvan
wanted to see a Tarlan trainee wizard at work.

The choice of the first patient was forced on him because the other two were
beginning their rest periods and Psychology Department staff had no authority to
intervene during clinical treatment, which included interrupting a patient's
sleep. The interview promised to be the most difficult and delicate of the three
cases Braithwaite had listed for him.

"Are you sure you want to talk to this one, Lioren?" Cha Thrat asked with the
small upper-limb movements that he had learned signified deep concern. "This is
a very sensitive case."

Lioren did not reply at once. It was a truism accepted on every inhabited world
of the Federation that medics made the worst patients. Not only was this one a
healer of the highest professional standing, the interview would have to be
conducted with great care because patient Mannen's condition was terminal.

"I dislike wasting time," Lioren said finally, "or an opportunity."

"Earlier today," Cha Thrat said, "you told Braithwaite that you had learned your
lesson regarding the too-free use of initiative. With respect, Lioren, it was
impatience and your refusal to waste time that caused the Cromsag Incident."

Lioren did not reply.

Mannen was an Earth-human DBDG, of advanced age for that comparatively short-
lived species, who had come to Sector General after graduating with the highest
honors at its home world's foremost teaching hospital. It had quickly been
promoted to Senior Physician and within a few years to the post of Senior Tutor,
when its pupils had included such present members of the medical hierarchy as
Conway, Prilicla, and Edanelt, until it relinquished the position to Cresk-Sar
on its elevation to Diagnostician. Inevitably the time had come when the
establishment's most advanced medical and mechanical aids were no longer capable
of extending its life, even though its level of mentation remained as sharp and
clear as that of a young adult.

Ex-Diagnostician and current-patient Mannen lay in a private compartment off the
main DBDG medical ward, with biosensors monitoring its vital signs and the usual
life-support mechanisms absent at its own request. Its clinical condition was
close to critical but stable, and its eyes had remained closed, indicating that
it was probably unconscious or asleep. Lioren had been surprised and pleased
when they found the patient unattended, because Earth-humans were numbered among
the intelligent species who liked the company of family or friends at ending of
life. But his surprise had disappeared when the ward's Charge Nurse informed
them that the patient had had numerous visitors who had left or been sent away
within a few moments of arrival.

"Let us leave before it awakens," Cha Thrat said very quietly. "Your excuse for
being here, to ask if it is satisfied with the room's environmental system, is,
in the circumstances, both ridiculous and insensitive. Besides, not even O'Mara
can work a spell on an unconscious mind."

For a moment Lioren studied the monitor screens, but he could not recall the
values he had learned so long ago regarding the measurement of Earth-human life
processes. This room was a quiet and private place, he thought, in which to ask
personal questions.

"Cha Thrat," he asked softly, "what precisely do you mean by working a spell?"

It was a simple question that required a long and complicated answer, and the
process was neither shortened nor simplified by Cha Thrat breaking off every few
minutes to look worriedly toward the patient.

The Sommaradvan culture was divided into three distinct levels of person—
serviles, warriors, and rulers—and the medical fraternities responsible for
their welfare were similarly stratified.

At the bottom were the serviles, people who were unwilling to strive for
promotion and whose work was undemanding, repetitious, and completely without
risk because in their daily lives they were protected against gross physical
damage. The healers charged with their care were physicians whose treatments
were purely medical. The second level, much less numerous than the serviles,
were the warriors, who occupied positions of great responsibility and, in the
past, considerable physical danger.

There had been no war on Sommaradva for many generations, but the warrior class
had kept the name because they were the descendants of the people who had fought
to protect their homelands, hunted for food, and raised defenses against
predatory beasts while the serviles saw to their physical needs. Now they were
the technicians, engineers, and scientists who still performed the high-risk or
the most prestigious duties, which included the protection of rulers. For this
reason the injuries sustained by warriors had usually been traumatic in nature,
requiring surgical intervention or repair rather than medication, and this work
was the responsibility of the warrior-surgeons. At the top of Sommaradva's
medical tree were the ruler-healers, who had even greater responsibilities and,
at times, much less reward or satisfaction in their work.
Protected against all risk of physical injury, the ruler class were the
administrators, academics, researchers, and planners on Sommaradva. They were
the people charged with the smooth running of the cities and the world, and the
ills which affected them were principally the phantasms of the mind. Their
healers dealt only in wizardry, spells, sympathetic magic, and all the other
practices of nonphysical medicine.

"Naturally," Cha Thrat said, "as our culture advanced socially and
scientifically an overlapping of responsibilities occurred. Serviles
occasionally fracture a limb, or the mental stresses encountered while studying
for promotion sometimes threaten the sanity of the mind concerned, or a ruler
succumbs to a servile digestive upset, all of which necessitates healers
practicing above or below their class.

"Since earliest times," the Sommaradvan concluded, "our practitioners of healing
have been divided into physicians, surgeons, and wizards."

"Thank you," Lioren said. "Now I understand. It is merely a matter of semantic
confusion combined with a too-literal translation. To you a spell is
psychotherapy which can be short and simple or long and complicated, and the
wizard responsible for it is simply a psychologist who—"

"It is not a psychologist!" Cha Thrat said fiercely; then, remembering the
patient, it lowered its voice again and went on, "Every non-Sommaradvan I have
met makes the same mistake. On my world a psychologist is a being of low status
who tries to be a scientist by measuring brain impulses or bodily changes
brought about by physical and mental stress, and by making detailed observations
of the subject's subsequent behavior. A psychologist tries to impose immutable
laws in an area of nightmares and changing internal realities, and attempts to
make a science of what has always been an art, an art practiced only by wizards.

"A wizard will use or ignore the instruments and tabulations of the
psychologists," the Sommaradvan continued before Lioren could speak, "to cast
spells that influence the complex, insubstantial structures of the mind. A
wizard uses words, silences, minute observation, and most important, intuition,
to uncover and gradually reorient the sick, internal reality of the patient to
the external reality of the world. There is a great difference between a mere
psychologist and a wizard."

The other's voice had been rising again but the sensors reported no change in
the patient's condition.

It was obvious to Lioren that the Sommaradvan had few opportunities to talk
freely about its home planet and the few friends it had left there or to relieve
its feelings about the intolerance of its professional peers that had forced it
to come to Sector General. It went on to relate in detail the disruption its
particularly rigid code of professional ethics had caused throughout the
hospital until its eventual rescue by the wizard O'Mara, and its own personal
feelings and reactions to all these events. Plainly Cha Thrat wanted, perhaps
badly needed, to talk about itself.

But confidences invited more confidences, and Lioren began to wonder if he, the
one member of the Tarlan species on the hospital staff speaking like this to its
only Sommaradvan, did not have the same need. Gradually there was developing a
two-way exchange in which the questions and answers were becoming very personal
indeed.
Lioren found himself telling Cha Thrat about his feelings during and after the
Cromsag Incident, of the guilt that was terrible beyond words or belief, and of
his helpless fury at the Monitor Corps and O'Mara for refusing him the death he
so fully deserved and for sentencing him instead to the ultimate cruelty of
life.

At that point Cha Thrat, who must have sensed his increasing emotional distress,
firmly steered the conversation onto O'Mara and the Chief Wizard's reasons for
taking them into its department, and from there to the assignment that had
brought him here in the hope of gathering information from a patient who was
plainly in no condition to give it.

They were still discussing Seldal and wondering aloud whether they should try
talking to Mannen the next day, if it should survive that long, when the
supposedly unconscious patient opened its eyes and looked at them.

"I, that is, we apologize, sir," Cha Thrat said quickly. "We assumed that you
were unconscious because your eyes remained closed since our arrival and the
biosensor readings showed no change. I can only assume that you realized our
mistake, and because we were discussing matters of a confidential nature, you
maintained the pretense of sleep out of politeness to avoid causing us great
embarrassment."

Mannen's head moved slowly from side to side in the Earth-human gesture of
negation, and it seemed that the eyes staring up at him were in some clinically
inexplicable fashion younger than the rest of the patient's incredibly wrinkled
features and time-ravaged body. When it spoke, the words were like the
whispering of the wind through tall vegetation and slowed with the effort of
enunciation.

"Another . . . wrong assumption," it said. "I am . . . never polite."

"Nor do we deserve politeness, Diagnostician Mannen," Lioren said, forcing his
mind and his voice to the surface of a great, hot sea of embarrassment. "I alone
am responsible for this visit, and the blame for it is entirely mine. My reason
for coming no longer seems valid and we shall leave at once. Again, my
apologies."

One of the thin, emaciated hands lying outside the bed covering twitched feebly,
as if it would have been raised in a nonverbal demand for silence if the arm
muscles had possessed sufficient strength. Lioren stopped speaking.

"I know . . . your reason for coming," Mannen said, in a voice barely loud
enough to carry the few inches to its bedside translator. "I overheard
everything . . . you said about Seldal ... as well as yourself. Very interesting
it was . . . But the effort of listening to you ... for nearly two hours . . .
has tired me ... and soon my sleep will not be a pretense. You must go now.''

"At once, sir," Lioren said.

"And if you wish to return," Mannen went on, "come at a better time . . .
because I want to ask questions as well as listen to you. But the visit should
not be long delayed."

"I understand," Lioren said. "It will be very soon."
"Perhaps I will be able to help you . . , with the Seldal business and in return
. . . you can tell me more about Cromsag . . . and do me another small favor.''

The Earth-human Mannen had been a Diagnostician for many years. Its help and
understanding of the Seldal problem would be invaluable, especially as it would
be given willingly and without the need of him having to waste time hiding the
reason for his questions. But he also knew that the price he would have to pay
for that assistance in inflaming wounds that could never heal would be higher
than the patient realized.

Before he could reply, Mannen's lips drew back slowly in the peculiar Earth-
human grimace which at times could signify a response to humor or a nonverbal
expression of friendship or sympathy.

"And I thought I had problems," it said.


Chapter 11

LlOREN'S subsequent visits were lengthier, completely private, and not nearly as
painful as he had feared.

He had asked Hredlichi, the Charge Nurse on Mannen's ward, to inform him
immediately whenever the patient was conscious and in a condition to receive
visitors, regardless of the time of the hospital's arbitrary day or night that
should be. Before agreeing, Hredlichi had checked with the patient, who hitherto
had refused visits from everyone except for the ward rounds of its surgeon, and
been greatly surprised when Mannen agreed to receive nonmedical visits only from
Lioren.

Cha Thrat had explained it was insufficiently motivated to be willing to
interrupt its sleep or drop other, more urgent work at a moment's notice to
pursue the Seldal investigation—which was, after all, Lioren's responsibility—
although it would continue to assist Lioren in any other way which did not
involve major personal inconvenience. As a result, the first visit to Mannen had
been the only one at which the Sommaradvan had been present.

By the third visit, Lioren was feeling relieved that Mannen did not want to talk
exclusively about the Cromsaggar, disappointed that his understanding of
Seldal's behavior was no clearer, and embarrassed that the patient was spending
an increasing proportion of each visit talking about itself.

"With respect, Doctor," Lioren said after one particularly argumentative self-
diagnosis, "I am not in possession of an Earth-human Educator tape which would
enable me to give an opinion in your case nor, as a member of the Psychology
Department, am I allowed to practice medicine. Seldal is your physician-in-
charge and it—"

"Talks to me as if ... I was a drooling infant," Mannen broke in. "Or a
frightened, terminal patient. At least you don't ... try to administer ... a
lethal overdose ... of sympathy.

You are here to ... obtain information about Seldal and, in return, to satisfy
my curiosity . . . about you. No, I am not so much afraid of dying ... as having
too much time to think about it."

"Is there pain, Doctor?" Lioren asked.
"You know there is no pain, dammit," Mannen replied in a voice made stronger by
its anger. "In the bad old days there might have been pain, and inefficient
painkilling medication that so depressed the functioning of the involuntary
muscle systems that ... the major organs went into failure and the medication
killed the patient as well as its pain ... so that its medic escaped with the
minimum of ethical self-criticism and ... its patient was spared a lingering
death. But now we have learned how to negate pain without harmful side effects .
. . and there is nothing I can do but wait to see which of my vital organs . . .
will be the first to expire from old age.

"I should not," Mannen ended, its voice dropping to a whisper again, "have
allowed Seldal loose in my intestines. But that blockage was . . . really
uncomfortable."

"I sympathize," Lioren said, "because I, too, wish for death. But you can look
back with pride and without pain to your past and to an ending that will not be
long delayed. In my past and future lies only guilt and desolation that I must
suffer until—"

"Do you really feel sympathy, Lioren?" Mannen broke in. "You impress me as being
nothing but a proud and unfeeling ... but very efficient organic healing
machine. The Cromsag Incident . . . showed that the machine had a flaw. You want
to destroy the machine . . . while O'Mara wants to repair it. I don't know which
of you will succeed."

"I would never," Lioren said harshly, "destroy myself to avoid just punishment."

"To an ordinary member of the staff," Mannen went on, "I would not say such . .
. personally hurtful things. I know you feel you deserve them . . . and worse .
. . and you expect no apology from me. But I do apologize . . . because I am
hurting in a way that I did not believe possible . . . and am striking out at
you . . . and I ignore my friends when they visit me in case they discover . . .
that I am nothing but a vindictive old man."

Before Lioren could think of a reply, Mannen said weakly, "I have been hurtful
to a being who has not hurt me. The only recompense I can make is by helping you
. . . with information on Seldal. When it visits me tomorrow morning ... I shall
ask it specific and very personal questions. I shall not mention . . . nor will
it suspect your connection."

"Thank you," Lioren said. "But I do not understand how you can ask—"

"It is very simple," Mannen said, its voice strengthening again. "Seldal is a
Senior Physician and I was, until my summary demotion to the status of patient,
a Diagnostician. It will be pleased to answer all my questions for three
reasons. Out of respect for my former rank, because it will want to humor a
terminal patient who wants to talk shop for what might well be the last time,
and especially because I have not spoken a word to it since three days before
the operation. If I cannot discover any helpful information for you after that
exercise, the information does not exist."

This terminally ill entity, in what might well be the last constructive act of
its life, was going to help him with the Seldal assignment as no other person
was capable of doing, simply because it had used a few impolite words to him.
Lioren had always considered it wrong to become emotionally involved in a case,
however slightly, because the patient's interests were best served by the
impersonal, clinical approach—and Mannen was not even his patient. But somehow
it seemed that the investigation into the Nallajim Senior's behavior was no
longer his only concern.

"Thank you again," Lioren said. "But I had been about to say that I cannot
understand why you are hurting in ways that you did not believe possible when
your medication should render you pain-free. Is it a nonmedical problem?"

Mannen stared up at him unblinkingly for what seemed a very long time in
silence, and Lioren wished that he was able to read the expression on its wasted
and deeply wrinkled features. He tried again.

"If it is nonmedical, would you prefer I send for O'Mara?"

"No!" Mannen said, weakly but very firmly. "I do not want to talk to the Chief
Psychologist. He has been here many times, until he stopped trying to talk to a
person who pretended to be asleep all the time and, like my other friends,
stayed away."

It was becoming clear that Mannen wanted to talk to someone, but had not yet
made the decision to do so. Silence, Lioren thought, might be the safest form of
questioning.

"In your mind," Mannen said finally, in a voice which had found strength from
somewhere, "there is too much that you want to forget. In mine there is even
more that I cannot remember."

"Still I do not understand you," Lioren said.

"Must I explain it as if you were a first-day trainee?" the patient said. "For
the greater part of my professional life I have been a Diagnostician. As such I
have had to accommodate in my mind, often for periods of several years, the
knowledge, personalities, and medical experience of anything up to ten entities
at a time. The experience is of many alien personalities occupying and—because
these tape donors were rarely timid or self-effacing people—fighting for control
of the host mind. This is a subjective mental phenomenon which must be overcome
if one is to continue as a Diagnostician, but initially it seems that the host
mind is a battleground with too many combatants warring with each other until—"

"That I do understand," Lioren said. "During my time here as a Senior I was once
required to carry three tapes simultaneously."

"The host is able to impose peace and order," Mannen continued slowly, "usually
by learning to understand and adapt to and make friends with these alien
personalities without surrendering any part of his own mind, until the necessary
accommodation can be made. It is the only way to avoid serious mental trauma and
removal from the roster of Diagnosticians."

Mannen closed its eyes for a moment, then went on. "But now the mental
battlefield is deserted, emptied of the onetime warriors who became friends. I
am all alone with the entity called Mannen, and with only Mannen's memories,
which includes the memory of having many other memories that were taken from me.
I am told that this is as it should be because a man's mind should be his own
for a time before termination. But I am lonely, lonely and empty and cared for
and completely pain-free while I spend a subjective eternity waiting for the
end.
Lioren waited until he was sure that Mannen had finished speaking; then he said,
"Terminally aged Earth-humans, indeed the members of the majority of species,
find comfort in the presence of friends at a time like this. For some reason you
have chosen to discourage such visits, but if you would prefer the company of
donor entities who were your friends of the mind, nc/"vi_cn the answer is to
reimpress your brain with Educator tapes of your choosing. I shall suggest this
solution to the Chief Psychologist, who might—"

"Tear you psychologically limb from Tarlan limb," Mannen broke in. "Have you
forgotten that you are supposed to be investigating Seldal, not one of its
patients called Mannen? Forget about the tapes. If O'Mara ever found out what
you, a psychology trainee, have been trying to do here, you would be in very
serious trouble."

"I cannot imagine," Lioren said very seriously, "being in worse trouble than I
am now.''

"I'm sorry," Mannen said, raising one of its hands a few inches above the covers
and then letting it fall again. "For a moment I had forgotten the Cromsag
Incident. A tongue-lashing from O'Mara would be insignificant compared to the
punishment you are inflicting on yourself."

Lioren did not acknowledge the other's apology because the guilty did not
deserve one and said instead, "You are right, reimpressing your Educator tapes
is not a good solution. My knowledge of Earth-human psychology is meager, but
would it not be better if at this time your mind was your own, and not filled
with others whose mind records were taken before they even knew of your
existence, and whose apparent friendship for you was a self-delusion aimed at
making their alien presence more bearable? At this time should you not be
ordering the contents of your own mind, its thoughts, experiences, right or
wrong decisions, and its considerable accomplishments during your own lifetime?
This would help to pass your remaining time, and if your friends were no longer
discouraged from visiting you, that would also shorten—"

"I have yet to meet an intelligent being," Mannen said, "who did not wish for a
long life and an instantaneous death. But such wishes are rarely granted, are
they, Lioren? My suffering does not compare with yours, but I will still have a
long time to spend in a body deprived of all feeling and with a mind that is
empty and alien and frightening because it is my own, a mind I can no longer
fill."

The ex-Diagnostician's two recessed eyes were fixed on the one of Lioren's that
was closest to it. He returned the patient's stare for several minutes, his mind
recalling the words the other had spoken and searching everyone of them for
unspoken meanings, but Mannen spoke before he did.

"I have not talked for so long in many weeks," it said, "and I am very tired. Go
now, or I will be so discourteous as to fall asleep in the middle of a
sentence."

"Please don't," Lioren said quickly, "because I have one more question to ask of
you. It is possible that you are thinking that an entity who has already
committed the monstrous and multiple crime of genocide would not suffer
additional distress if he were to commit a single and, relatively, more venial
offense as a favor to a colleague. Are you suggesting that I shorten your time
of waiting?"
Mannen was silent for so long that Lioren checked the biosensors to be sure that
it had not lost consciousness with its eyelids open; then it said, "If that was
my suggestion, what would your answer be?''

Lioren did not wait as long before replying. "The answer would be no. If it is
possible, I must try to reduce my guilt, not increase it by however small an
amount. The ethical and moral aspects might be argued, but I could not justify
such an act on medical grounds because there is no physical distress of any
kind. Your distress is subjective, the product of a mind that is empty of all
but one occupant, you, who is no longer happy there.

"But the experience is not new to you," Lioren went on, "because it was your
normal condition before you became a Senior Physician and then a Diagnostician.
I have already suggested that you fill your mind with old memories, experiences
or professional decisions which brought you pleasure, or problems which you
enjoyed solving. Or would you prefer to continue exercising it with new
material?''

What he was about to say would sound callous and selfish and might well anger
the patient into total noncooperation, but he said it anyway.

"For example," he added, "there is the mystery of Seldal's behavior.''

"Go away," Mannen said in a weak voice, closing its eyes, "go now."

Lioren did not leave until the biosensor readings indicated the changes which
told him that on this occasion the patient's sleep was not a pretense.

When he returned to the office next morning, Lioren deliberately concentrated on
the routine work so as to avoid having to discuss Mannen with Cha Thrat. He did
not think that the words of a terminal patient should be judged too harshly, nor
be repeated to others, especially when they had no direct bearing on the Seldal
investigation.

Of the other three Seldal post-op patients he questioned, two were willing to
talk to him at length—about themselves, the hospital food, the nurses whose
ministrations were at times as gentle as the hands of a parent or as insensitive
as a kick from a Tralthan's rear leg, but about their Nallajim surgeon scarcely
at all. During the little time Seldal spent with them, it listened more than it
talked, which was a little unusual in a Senior but was not a character deviation
serious enough to worry O'Mara. He was disappointed but not surprised when his
general and necessarily vague questions brought no results.

The post-op care of the third patient was the responsibility of Tralthan and
Hudlar nurses, who had been forbidden to discuss the case outside the ward.
Seldal had likewise forbidden members of any physiological classification less
massive than a Hudlar or Tralthan even to approach it. Lioren was curious about
this mystery patient and decided to call up its medical record, only to find
that the file was closed to him.

He was surprised and pleased when Charge Nurse Hredlichi contacted him to say
that Mannen had left instructions that Lioren was to be allowed to visit it at
any time. He was even more surprised at the patient's opening words.

"This time," it said, "we will talk about Senior Physician Seldal, your
investigation and you yourself, and not about me."
Mannen's voice was slow, weak, and barely hovering above the limit of
audibility, but there were no long pauses for breath, and its manner, Lioren
thought, was that of an ailing Diagnostician rather than a terminal patient.

It had spoken to the Nallajim during its twice-daily ward round, and on both
occasions Seldal had been pleased that the patient was talking to it again and
showing interest in events and people other than itself. During the first talk
it was obvious that Seldal was humoring its patient by answering Mannen's
deliberately nonspecific questions about the latest hospital gossip and its
other patients, and the Nallajim Senior had spent much longer with it than was
clinically necessary.

"Naturally," Mannen continued, "that was simple professional courtesy extended
to the person I once was. However, one of the people we discussed was the new
Psychology Department trainee, Lioren, who seemed to be wandering about the
hospital with no clear idea of what it was doing."

Lioren's medial limbs jerked outward instinctively into the Tarlan posture of
defense, but the threat was removed by the patient's next words.

"Don't worry," Mannen went on, "we talked about you, not your interest in
Seldal. Charge Nurse Hredlichi, who has four mouths and cannot keep any of them
closed, told it of your frequent visits to me, and it was curious to know why I
had allowed them and what we talked about. Not wishing to tell an outright lie
this close to my end, I said that we talked about our troubles, and said that
your problems made my own seem small by comparison.''

Mannen closed its eyes for a moment, and Lioren wondered if the effort of that
long, unbroken conversation had exhausted it, but then it opened them again and
said, "During its second ward round I asked about its Educator tapes. Stop
jerking your arms about like that, you'll knock over something. It is shortly to
undergo the medical and psychological examinations for Diagnostician, and I know
that any advice coming from an ex-Diagnostician with decades of experience would
be welcomed. The questions regarding its methods of accommodating and adapting
to its present mind-partners were expected and aroused no suspicion. Whether or
not the information given so far will help your investigation I cannot say.

By the time Mannen had finished speaking, its voice was so low that Lioren had
collapsed himself awkwardly onto his knees to bring his head close to the
other's lips. He did not know if the information was helpful, but it had
certainly given him a lot to think about.

"I am most grateful, Doctor," he said.

"I am doing you a favor, Surgeon-Captain," Mannen said. "Are you willing to do
one in return?"

Without hesitation, Lioren replied, "Not that one."

"And if I was to ... withdraw cooperation?" the other asked in a voice which
carried only a few inches from its lips. "Or go back to pretending to be asleep?
Or if I were to tell Seldal everything? ''

Their heads were so close together that Lioren had to extend three of his eyes
to cover the full length of the patient's incredibly emaciated body. "Then I
would suffer embarrassment, distress, and perhaps punishment," he said. "It
would be as nothing to the punishment I deserve. But you are suffering distress,
of a kind that I can barely imagine, which is not deserved. You say that you
find solace neither in the company of friends nor in preterminal contemplation
of your past life. It may be that your empty mind is terrifying, not because it
is empty but because its only occupant has become a stranger to you. But this
mind is a valuable resource, the most valuable resource that was ever in your
possession, and it should not be wasted by a premature termination, however
accomplished. For as long as possible your mind should be used."

A long exhalation of the patient's breath pressed gently against Lioren's face,
and then Mannen said weakly, "Lioren, you are . . . a cold fish."

Within a few minutes it was asleep and Lioren was on the way back to the office.
Several times he collided with other life-forms, fortunately without injury on
either side, because his mind was on the patient he had left rather than the
ever-present problem of corridor navigation.

He was using the remaining hours or days of an emotionally distressed and
terminal patient as a means of furthering a simple, unimportant, and nonurgent
investigation, as he would use any suitable tool that came to hand which would
enable him to complete a job. If in the process he altered or increased the
efficiency of the tool, that was not an important consideration. Or was it?

He was remembering that on Cromsag he had been involved in solving a problem. On
that occasion, too, he had considered the solution to be more important than any
of the individuals involved, and his intellectual pride and his impatience had
depopulated a planet. On his native Tarla that pride and high intelligence had
been a barrier that none could penetrate, and he had had superiors and
subordinates and family but no friends. Perhaps Mannen's singularly inaccurate
physiological description, which he had put down to the mental confusion of
fatigue, had been correct and Lioren was a cold fish. But it might not be
entirely correct.

Lioren thought of the wasted and barely living entity he had just left, the
pitiful and fragile tool that was performing exemplary work, and he wondered at
the strange feelings of hurt and sadness that arose in him.

Was his first experience of friendship, like his first friend, to be short-
lived?

As soon as Lioren entered the office he knew that something was wrong, because
both Cha Thrat and Braithwaite swung round to face him. It was the Earth-human
who spoke first.

"O'Mara is at a meeting and is not to be disturbed and, frankly, I have no idea
how to advise you about this," Braithwaite said in a rapid, agitated voice.
"Dammit, Lioren, you were told to be discreet in your enquiries. What have you
been saying about your assignment, and to whom? We have just had a message from
Senior Physician Seldal. It wants to see you in the Nallajim staff flocking
lounge on Level Twenty-three."

Cha Thrat made the Sommaradvan gesture of deep concern, and added, "At once."


Chapter 12

SlNCE the Nallajim LSVOs often entertained other-species colleagues, their
lounge was spacious enough not to cause Lioren any physical inconvenience, but
he wondered at the choice of meeting place. In spite of their fragile, low-
gravity physiology, the birdlike species could be as abrasive in their
conversational manner as any Kelgian, and if this one had found cause for
complaint against Lioren, the expected course would have been for it to present
itself in the Psychology Department and demand to see O'Mara.

Of one thing he felt very sure, Lioren thought as he moved between the nestlike
couches filled with sleeping or quietly twittering occupants toward Seldal, this
would not be a social occasion.

"Sit or stand, whichever is more comfortable for you," the

Senior Physician said, lifting a wing to indicate the couch's food dispenser.
"Can I offer you anything."

It v/as wrong, Lioren told himself as he lowered his body into the downy
softness of the couch, to feel sure about anything.

"I am curious about you,'' the Nallajim Senior said, the rapid twittering of its
voice making an impatient background to the slower, translated words. "Not about
the Cromsag Incident because that has become common knowledge. It is your
behavior toward my patient Mannen that interests me. Exactly what did you say to
him, and what did he say to you?"

If I told you that, Lioren thought, this meeting would not long remain a social
occasion.

Lioren did not want to lie, and he was trying to decide whether it would be
better to avoid telling all of the truth or simply remain silent when the
Nallajim spoke again.

"Hredlichi tells me," it said, "and I use the Charge Nurse's words as clearly as
I can recall them, that two of O'Mara's Psych types, Cha Thrat and yourself,
approached it asking permission to interview its patients, including the
terminal case, Mannen, regarding some planned improvements in ward environment.
Hredlichi said that it was too busy to waste time arguing with you, and your
physical masses were such that it could not evict you bodily, so it decided to
accede where the patient Mannen was concerned knowing that the ex-Diagnostician
would ignore you as it had done everyone else who tried to talk to it. But
Hredlichi says that you spent two hours with the patient, who subsequently left
instructions that you could visit it at any time.

"Ex-Diagnostician Mannen is highly regarded at Sector General," Seldal went on,
"and its length of service on the staff is second only to that of O'Mara, who
was and is its friend. When I joined the hospital it was in charge of training.
It helped me then and on many occasions since so that I, too, consider it to be
more than a medical colleague. But until yesterday, when it suddenly
acknowledged my presence and began to ask questions which were lucid, general,
but more often personal, it would not speak to anyone except you.

"I ask again, Lioren, what transpired between Mannen and yourself?"

"It is a terminal patient," Lioren said, choosing his words with care, "and some
of the words and thoughts expressed might not have been those of the entity you
knew when it was at the peak of its physical and mental powers. I would prefer
not to discuss this material with others."
"You would prefer not ..." began Seldal, its angry, twittering speech rising in
volume so that the sleeping Nallajims around them stirred restively in their
nests. "Oh, keep your secrets if you must. Truly, you remind me of the departed
Car-mody, who was before your time. And you are correct, I would not want to
know about it if a great entity like Mannen were to display weakness, even
though I once shared my mind with an Earth-human DBDG who believed that feet of
clay could sometimes form a most solid foundation."

"Thank you for your forbearance, sir," Lioren said.

"I have learned forbearance," the Senior Physician said, "from a very close
friend. I shall not explain that, but instead I shall tell you what I think went
on between you."

Lioren was greatly relieved that the other was no longer angry and, seemingly,
did not suspect that it was the object of Lioren's investigation rather than
Mannen. He was wondering Whether the remark about learning from a very close
friend was an important datum when the Nallajim resumed speaking.

"When Mannen discovered who you were during your first visit," Seldal went on,
"it decided that you might have more problems than it had and became curious
about you. This curiosity must have led to personal questions about your
reactions to the Cromsag business that were distressing to you, but it was the
first time in several weeks that Mannen showed curiosity about anything. Now it
seems to be curious about everything. It has talked about you, and closely
questioned me, and asked about my other patients, the latest gossip, everything.
I am most grateful, Lioren, for the significant improvement your visits have
brought about in its condition ..."

"But the clinical picture—" Lioren began.

"Has not changed," it said, completing the sentence for him. "But the patient is
feeling better."

"Hredlichi also tells me," Seldal went on, "that you interviewed my other
patients about a ward environment improvement scheme, with the exception of my
isolation case who is forbidden visitors and all medical contacts not directly
involved with its treatment. The case is a young and therefore relatively small
member of a macrospecies, so there would be an element of risk involved to any
life-form of more or less normal body mass approaching it closely. If you still
want to do so, you now have my permission to visit it whenever you wish."

"Thank you, Senior Physician," Lioren said, feeling grateful but even more
confused by the way the conversation was going. "Naturally, I am curious about
the secrecy surrounding that particular patient—"

"As is everyone else in the hospital," Seldal broke in, "who is not closely
involved with its treatment, which, I must admit, is not going well. But I am
not merely satisfying your curiosity, I have a favor to ask.

"My recent conversations with Mannen and the way it speaks of you," the Nallajim
went on quickly, "make me wonder if the change you brought about in the ex-
Diagnostician might be repeated with the young Groalterri patient, whose
prognosis is being adversely affected for nonmedical reasons about which it will
not speak. My idea is that it, too, may benefit from knowing that its problems
are minor when compared with your own. But I will understand if you prefer not
to assist me."
' 'I will be pleased to help you in whatever way I can,'' Lioren said,
controlling his excitement and the volume of his voice with difficulty. "A—a
Groalterri, here in the hospital? I have never seen one, and had doubts about
their existence . . . Thank you."

"Lioren, you should take more time to consider," the Nallajim said. "As with
Mannen, the process of recollection will be distressing for you. But it seems to
me that you accept this distress willingly, as a just punishment that you must
not avoid. I think this is wrong and unnecessary. At the same time I must accept
these feelings, and use you and them as I would any other surgical tool, for the
good of my patient. Nevertheless, I am sorry for inflicting this added
punishment on you."

There was a little of the psychologist in every being, Lioren thought, and tried
to change the subject. "May I also continue my visits to Doctor Mannen?"

"As often as you wish," Seldal replied.

"And discuss this new case with it?" Lioren asked.

"Could I stop you?" Seldal asked in return. "I will not discuss the case further
lest my ideas influence your own. The Groalterri patient's medical file will be
opened to you, including what little information there is on the species' home
world."

It was very strange, Lioren thought as he left the Nallajim lounge, that the
Senior Physician should be using him as a tool in the treatment of a difficult
patient while he was using the other's patients as tools in his investigation of
Seldal itself—not that he was making much progress with that.

He called briefly on Mannen to tell it about this new development and give its
too-empty mind something more to think about before returning to the department.
Chief Psychologist O'Mara was still absent, and Lieutenant Braithwaite and Cha
Thrat were behaving as if they were about to perform a slightly premature Rite
for the Dead over him. Lioren told them that he was not in any trouble, that
Senior Physician Seldal had asked him for a favor which he was, of course,
granting, and as a result of which he would have to copy some material for later
study in his quarters.

"The Groalterri patient!" Braithwaite said suddenly, and Lioren turned to see
that Cha Thrat and the lieutenant were standing behind him reading his display.
"We aren't supposed to know that it is even in the hospital, and now you're
involved with it. What is Major O'Mara going to think about this?"

Lioren decided that it was what Earth-humans called a rhetorical question and
continued with his work.


Chapter 13

SlNCE its formation by the original four star-traveling cultures of Traltha,
Orligia, Nidia, and Earth, who had formed as its executive and law-enforcement
arm the multispecies Monitor Corps, the Galactic Federation had expanded to
include the members of sixty-five intelligent species and in population and area
of influence had begun to live up to its original and somewhat grandiose name.
But not all of the planetary cultures discovered by the Corps survey vessels
were opened to full contact, because a few of them would not benefit from it.

These were the worlds whose technical and philosophical development were such
that the sudden appearance among them of great ships from the sky, and the
strange, all-powerful beings armed with wondrous devices that they contained,
would have given the emerging cultures such a racial inferiority complex that
their potential for future development would have been seriously inhibited. And
there was one world on which the decision for making full contact was not the
Galactic Federation's to make.

As befitted a culture that had been old and wise when the natives of Earth and
Orligia and Traltha had still been wriggling through their primeval slime, the
Groalterri had been very diplomatic about it. But they had let it be known
without ambiguity that they would not tolerate the Federation's presence in
their adult domain nor allow the maturity and delicacy of their thinking to be
upset by a horde of chattering, moronic, other-species children. Both
individually and as a race the Groalterri carried enough philosophical and
physiological weight to make it so.

They did not have any objection to being observed from space, so the details of
their physiological classification and living environment had been obtained by
the long-range sensors of an orbiting survey vessel, and this was the only
information available.

The Groalterri were the largest intelligent macro life-form so far discovered, a
warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing, and amphibious species of physiological
classification BLSU who, as individuals, continued to grow in size from their
parthenoge-netic birth to the end of their extremely long life spans. In common
with other extravagantly massive life-forms, intelligent or otherwise, they
found difficulty in moving about unaided, so that from the young-adult state
onward they avoided potentially lethal gravitic distortion of their bodies by
swimming or floating in their individual lakes or communal inland seas, many of
which had been produced artificially and contained a level of biotechnology far
beyond the understanding of the observers.

Another characteristic they shared with large creatures—the library computer
cited the examples of the nonintelligent Tral-than yerrit and the Earth panda—
was that the mass of the embryo was so small that often a pregnancy was not
suspected until after the birth had taken place. In spite of the vast size and
elevated intelligence levels of adult Groalterri, their offspring were
relatively tiny and uncivilized in their behavior and remained so into early
adolescence.

That was one of the reasons for the nursing attendants being chosen from the
heavy-gravity Tralthan FGLI and Hudlar FROB classifications, Lioren thought as
he prepared for his first sight of the patient. Another was that the Federation
wanted to do the hitherto unapproachable Groalterri a favor, probably in the
hope that it might one day be returned, and had dispatched a Monitor Corps
transport vessel to move the seriously injured young one to Sector General for
treatment. It was the Corps who had insisted on secrecy so as to minimize
political and professional embarrassment should the patient terminate.

There were two unarmed but very large Earth-human Corps-men guarding the
entrance to the ward, a converted ambulance dock, to discourage unauthorized
visitors and to advise those with authorization to don heavy-duty space suits.
The ward atmosphere and pressure was suited to most warm-blooded oxygen-
breathers, they explained to Lioren, but the protection might keep the patient
from inadvertently killing him. ,

In his present mental state, the chance of having his life ended traumatically
was a fate greatly to be desired, Lioren thought, but did as they advised
without demur.

Even though Seldal's notes had prepared him for the young BLSU's body mass and
dimensions, the sheer size of the patient came as a shock, and the thought that
an adult Groalterri could grow to many hundreds of times as big was too
incredible for his mind to accept as a reality. For the patient filled more than
three-quarters the volume of the dock, and so large was it that the consequent
distortion of perspective kept him from seeing more than a fraction of its
surface features until he had used his suit thrusters to tour the vast body.

The dock was being maintained in the weightless condition with the patient
lightly restrained by a net whose mesh was sufficiently open to allow medical
examination and treatment to be carried out. On the dock's six inner surfaces,
wide-focus pressor and tractor beams controlled from the Nurses' Station had
been positioned so as to hold the creature suspended and out of contact with the
walls.

The patient's overall body configuration, Lioren saw, was that of a squat
octopoid with short, thick tentacular limbs and a central torso and head that
seemed disproportionately large. The eight limbs terminated alternately in four
sets of claws that would with maturity evolve into manipulatory digits while the
remain- ing four ended in flat, sharp-edged, osseous blades that were larger
than twice the spread of Lioren's medial arms.

In presapient times those four bone-tipped extremities would have been fearsome
natural weapons, Seldal had warned him, and the very young of any species could
sometimes revert to their savage past.

Lioren made another tour of the gigantic body, staying as far from the net that
enclosed it as the dock walls and deck would allow. This time he studied the
hundreds of tiny post-op scars and freshly dressed wounds as well as the areas
of pustulating infection that covered half of the creature's upper body surface.

The condition had been caused by a deep penetration of the subdermal tissue by a
nonintelligent, hard-shelled, and egg-laying insect life-form which did not
appear to have the physical ability to achieve such depth, but the reason for
the multiple traumatic penetration was unknown. In spite of the Groalterri
language being held in the hospital's translation computer, so far the patient
had refused to give any information about itself or the reason for its
condition.

That was why Lioren ended his tour of the body by drifting to a weightless halt
above the circular swelling that was the creature's head. There, centered above
the four heavily lidded eyes that were equally spaced around the cranium, was
the area of tightly stretched skin that served both as the creature's organ of
speech and hearing.

Lioren made a quiet, untranslatable sound and said, "If this physical or verbal
intrusion gives offense I apologize, for such is not my intention. May I speak
with you?"
For a long moment there was no response; then the enormous flap of flesh that
was the nearest eyelid opened slowly and Lioren found himself looking into the
depths of a dark transparency that seemed to go on forever. Suddenly the
tentacle just below him tensed, then curled upward and tore through the
restraining net as if it had been the insubstantial structure of a web-spinning
insect. The great, bony blade at its tip crashed against the wall behind him,
leaving a deep, bright trench in the metal before continuing the swing past
Lioren's head, so closely that the push of displaced air could be felt through
his open visor.

"Another stupid, half-organic machine," the patient said, just as Lioren was
caught by a tightly focused tractor beam and whisked back to the safety of the
Nurses' Station.

Reassuringly the Hudlar duty nurse said, "The patient does not mind visual or
tactile examinations or even surgery, but reacts in unsocial fashion to attempts
at communication. The probability is that it meant to discourage rather than
harm you.

"If it had wanted to harm me," Lioren said, remembering how that outsize,
organic axe had whistled past his head, "my suit would not have been of much
use."

"Nor would my own normally impenetrable Hudlar skin," the nurse said. "Doctor
Seldal belongs to a fragile species in which cowardice is a prime survival
characteristic but it, too, scorns the use of body armor. The few other visitors
who come here are allowed to decide for themselves.

' 'I have found,'' the Hudlar went on, ' 'that the patient is more likely to
speak to an entity who is not encased in body armor, which it apparently regards
as a being who is partly mechanical and of low intelligence. Its words to these
uncovered visitors are few and never polite, but it does sometimes speak to
them."

Lioren thought of the few words that the patient had spoken after nearly
frightening him into premature termination with its pretended attack, and he
began unfastening his nonprotective suit. "I am most grateful for your advice,
Nurse. Please help me out of this thing and I shall try again. And, Nurse, if
there is anything else you wish to say to me I will be pleased to listen."

As the FROB moved forward to assist him, its speaking membrane vibrated with the
words, "You do not recognize me, Lioren. But I know you and I, too, am grateful
for the helpful words that you spoke to my Kelgian friend, nurse-in-training
Tarsedth, before and during our recent visit to your quarters. I am greatly
surprised that Seldal allowed you to come here, but if there is anything further
that I can do to assist you, you have only to ask."

"Thank you," Lioren said.

He was thinking that the assignment O'Mara had given him to investigate Seldal's
behavior, and his unorthodox method of conducting it, was having unforeseen
results. For reasons Lioren could not understand he seemed to be collecting
friends.

The second time Lioren approached the patient's head he was wearing only his
translator pack and a thruster unit to help him navigate in the weightless
condition. Again he halted close to one of the enormous, closed eyes and spoke.
"I am not, in whole or in part, a machine," he said. "Again I ask with respect,
can I speak to you?"

Once more the eyelid opened slowly like a great, fleshy portcullis, but this
time the response was immediate.

"There is no doubt in either of our minds that you have the ability to speak to
me," it replied in a voice that accompanied the translated words like a deep,
modulated drumroll. "But if your question was carelessly phrased, as is much of
the speech in this place, and you are asking whether I will listen and reply, I
doubt it."

Below him one of the great tentacles stirred restively inside the torn netting,
then became motionless again. "Your shape is new to me, but it is likely that
your questions and behavior will be the same as all the others. You will ask
questions whose answers should be already known through prior observation. Even
the tiny Cutter called Seldal, who pecks at me and fills the wounds with strange
chemicals, asks how I am. If it does not know, who does? And they all behave
toward me as if they were the Parents with power and authority and I the tiny
offspring needing consolation. It is as if insects were pretending to be wiser
and larger than a Parent, which is ridiculous beyond belief.

"I speak to you very simply of these things," the BLSU went on, "in the hope
that you have the authority to end this ridiculous pretense and that you will
leave me undisturbed to die.

"Go," it ended, "at once."

The great eye closed as if to banish him from sight and mind, but Lioren did not
move. "Your wishes in this matter will be passed without delay to the others
concerned with your treatment, because the words that have passed between us are
being recorded for later study by—"

Lioren broke off. All of the creature's tentacles were curling and writhing
within the restraining net, which parted loudly in several places before they
relaxed again.

"My words," it said, "are an expression of my thoughts that were given to you
and earlier to those with whom I spoke. Without my express permission on each
and every occasion, these thoughts are not to be shared with entities who are
not present and whose minds are likely to misunderstand and distort my meaning.
If this is being done, I shall speak no more. Go away."

Still, Lioren did not move. Instead he keyed his translator to the Nurses'
Station frequency and prepared to speak once again in the manner of a Surgeon
Captain.

"Nurse," he said, "please switch off all recording devices and erase the words
spoken since my arrival. Do likewise with the earlier conversations between
Doctor Seldal and the patient. Any personal words of the patient that you
yourself have heard on this and previous occasions are to be treated as
privileged communications and disclosed to no other person. From this moment on,
and until the patient itself has given permission for you to do otherwise, you
will cease listening in to any conversation that passes between the patient and
anyone else, nor will you use your own organic sound sensors to do so. Do you
fully understand your instructions, Nurse? Please speak."
"I understand," the Hudlar replied, "but will Senior Physician Seldal?"

"The Senior Physician will understand when I make it aware of the strong
feelings of the patient regarding the unauthorized recording of its
conversations. In the meantime I assume full responsibility."

"Breaking sound contact," the nurse said.

It was only the sound contact that had been broken, Lioren knew, because the
nurse would be continuing to watch and record the proceedings on the clinical
monitors as well as watching him even more intently on the visuals in case he
had to be pulled out of trouble with the tractors again. He returned his
attention to the eye of the patient, which was again closed.

"We may now speak," Lioren said, "without our words being overheard or recorded,
and I shall not repeat anything you say without your express permission. Is this
satisfactory?"

The patient's gargantuan body remained still, it did not speak, and its eye did
not open. Lioren could not help remembering his first visit to ex-Diagnostician
Mannen and thought that here, too, the clinical monitors were indicating that
the patient was motionless but conscious. Perhaps the BLSU classification did
not sleep, for there were several intelligent species in the Federation who had
evolved in presapient conditions of extreme physical danger so that a part of
their minds remained constantly on watch. Or it might be that the patient, being
a member of a species said to be the most philosophically advanced yet
discovered, had twice asked him to leave and was now ignoring him because it was
too civilized to be capable of physically enforcing the request.

In Mannen's case it had been the patient's own curiosity that had caused it to
break the silence.

"You have told me," Lioren said slowly and patiently, "that the attention and
questions of the medical staff here are an irritation to you, because they swarm
like tiny insects around a behemoth while behaving as if they had the authority
of a parent. Have you considered that, in spite of their small size, they feel
toward you the same concern and need to help you that is a parent's? The insect
analogy is as distasteful to me as it is to the others, if you have told them of
it, for we are not mindless insects.

"I much prefer," Lioren went on, "the analogy of the highly intelligent entity
with one of lower intelligence of whom it has made a friend, or a pet, if that
concept is understood by the Groalterri. Two such entities can often form a
strong nonphysical bond with each other and, ridiculous though the idea might
seem, should the one of greater intelligence become injured or in distress of
some kind, the other will want to give solace and will grieve when it is
helpless to do so.

"By comparison with yours," Lioren said, "the intelligence level of those around
you is low. But we are not helpless and our purpose here is to relieve many
different kinds of distress."

There was no response from the patient, and Lioren wondered   if the other was
treating his words as the buzzings of an irritating insect.   But his pride would
not allow him to accept that idea. He reminded himself that   while this patient
belonged to a superintelligent species, it was a very young   member of that
species, which should go a long way toward levelling the difference between
them; one important characteristic in the young of any species was their
curiosity about all things.

' 'If you do not wish to satisfy my curiosity about you, because of your earlier
words being shared with others without your knowledge or consent," Lioren said,
"you might be curious about one of the entities who are trying to help you,
myself.

"My name is Lioren ..."

He was there at Seldal's request because of an age-old and Galaxy-wide truism
that in a place of healing there are always entities in worse condition than
oneself, and that the one in lesser distress felt sympathy toward its less
fortunate fellow and seemed to benefit in the nonclinical area thereby. Plainly
the Nallajim Senior was hoping for a similar response from this patient, but
Lioren wondered whether an entity so massive in size and intellect, and so
tremendously long-lived as this one, was capable of feeling sympathy for the
stupid, ephemeral insect hovering above its closed eye.

It took much longer than on the previous telling, because then Mannen had known
about the Federation and the Monitor Corps and court-martial as well as the
swarm of intelligent insects called the Cromsaggar that Lioren had all but
exterminated. Many times his manner lost its clinical objectivity as the words
caused him to live again the terrible events on Cromsag, and he had to remind
himself several times that his memories were being used as a psychological tool
that caused pain to its user, but finally it was over.

Lioren waited, glad of the patient's lack of response that was enabling him to
drive away those fearful images and regain control of his mind.

"Lioren," the Groalterri said suddenly, without opening its eye, "I did not know
that it was possible for a small entity to bear such a great load of suffering.
Only by not looking at you can I continue to believe it, for in my mind I see an
old and greatly distressed Parent seeking help. But I cannot give you that help
just as you cannot help me because, Lioren, I, too, am guilty."

Its voice had grown so quiet that the translator required full amplification to
resolve the word-sounds as it ended, "I am guilty of a great and terrible sin."


Chapter 14

MORE than an hour passed before Lioren returned to the Nurses' Station to find
Seldal, its atrophied wings twitch- ing and feathers ruffled in the Nallajim
sign of anger, awaiting him.

"Nurse tells me that you ordered the voice recorders switched off," it said
before Lioren could speak, "and the earlier conversations with the patient to be
erased. You exceeded your authority, Lioren, which is a bad habit of yours that
I thought you had given up after the Cromsag business. But you have spoken with
the patient at greater length than all of the medical staff combined since its
arrival. What did it say to you?"

Lioren was silent for a moment, then he said, "I cannot tell you exactly. Much
of the information is personal and I have not yet decided what can and cannot be
divulged."
Seldal gave a loud, incredulous cheep. "This patient must have given you
information that will help me in its treatment. I cannot order a member of your
department to reveal psychosen-sitive information about another entity, but I
can request O'Mara to order you to do so."

"Senior Physician," Lioren said, "whether it was the Chief Psychologist or any
other authority my response would have to be the same."

The Hudlar nurse had moved away so as to absent itself and avoid embarrassing
its department head by overhearing an argument that entity was losing.

"May I assume that I still have your permission to continue visiting the
patient?" Lioren asked quietly. "It is possible that I might be able to obtain
information arrived at by observation and deduction and the detection of facts,
material of nonper-sonal nature about itself or its species which would assist
you. But great care is needed if it is not to take offense, because it places
great importance on the contents of its mind and the words used to reveal it."

Seldal's feathers were again lying like a bright and unruffled carpet around its
body. "You have my permission to continue visiting. And now I presume you have
no objection to me talking to my own patient?''

"If you tell it that the speech recorders will remain switched off," Lioren
said, "it might talk to you."

As Seldal departed the Hudlar nurse returned to its position on the monitors.
Quietly, it said, "With respect, Lioren, the Hudlar organ of hearing is
extremely sensitive and cannot be turned off other than by swathing it in a
bulky muffling device, the need for which was not foreseen in this ward and so
it was not available to me."

"Did you hear everything?" Lioren asked, feeling a sudden anger that the
patient's confidence had been breached and that Seldal, from whom he had been
keeping the conversation a secret, would shortly be able to hear it all on the
hospital grapevine. "Including the crime it is supposed to have committed prior
to its arrival here?"

"I was instructed not to hear," the Hudlar said, "so I did not hear, and cannot
discuss what I did not hear with anyone other than the entity who forbade me to
hear.''

"Thank you, Nurse," Lioren said with great feeling. He stared for a moment at
the other's identification patch, which bore only the hospital staff and
department symbols because Hudlars used their names only among the members of
the family or those whom they proposed to mate, and memorized it so that he
would know the nurse again. Then he asked, "Do you wish to discuss some aspect
of that which you did not hear with me now?"

"With respect," the Hudlar said, "I would prefer to make an observation. You
appear to be gaining the patient's confidence with remarkable speed, by speaking
freely about yourself and inviting an exchange in kind."

"Go on," Lioren said.

"On my world and, I believe, among the majority of your own population on
Tarla," the nurse said, "it would not matter because we believe that our lives
begin at birth and end with death, and we do not distinguish between the forms
of wrongdoing which seem to be troubling the patient. But among the Groalterri,
and in many other cultures throughout the Federation, you would be treading on
dangerous philosophical ground."

"I know," Lioren said as he turned to leave. "This is no longer a purely medical
problem, and I hope the library computer will give me some of the answers. At
least I know what my first question will be."

What is the difference between a crime and a sin ?

When he returned to the department, Lioren was told that O'Mara was in the inner
office but had left instructions not to be disturbed. Braithwaite and Cha Thrat
were about to leave for the day, but the Sommaradvan held back, plainly wanting
to question him. Lioren tried to ignore its nonverbal curiosity because he was
not sure what, if anything, he could allow himself to say.

"I know that you are seriously troubled in the mind," Cha Thrat said, pointing
suddenly at his screen. "Has your distress increased to the level where you are
seeking solace in ... Lioren, this is uncharacteristic and worrying behavior in
a personality as well integrated as yours. Why are you requesting all that study
material on the Federation's religions?"

Lioren had to pause for a moment   to consider his answer, because it was suddenly
borne in upon him that, since he   had become involved with Seldal and its
patients, he had spent much more   time thinking about the troubles of Mannen and
the Groalterri than his own. The   realization came as a great surprise to him.

"I am grateful for your concern," he replied carefully, "but my distress has not
increased since last we spoke. As you already know, I am investigating Seldal by
talking to its patients, and the process has become ethically complicated, so
much so that I am uncertain of how much I can tell you. Religion is a factor.
But it is a subject about which I am totally ignorant, and I should not want to
be embarrassed if I were to be asked questions about it."

"But who would ask questions about religion," Cha Thrat asked, "when it is a
subject everyone is supposed to avoid? It causes arguments that nobody wins. Is
it the terminal patient, Mannen, who might ask these questions? If it needs help
of that kind, I wonder at it asking you rather than a member of its own species.
But I understand your reticence."

Allowing another person to arrive at a wrong conclusion was not the same as
lying, Lioren told himself.

Cha Thrat made a Sommaradvan gesture the significance of which Lioren did not
know, and went on, "Speaking clinically, Lioren, I would say that you have been
forgetting to eat as well as sleep. You can call up that stuff on your room
console as well as from here. I cannot help you where Earth-human beliefs are
concerned, but let us go to the dining hall and I will tell you all about the
religions—there are five of them altogether—of Som-maradva. It is a subject
about which I can speak with full knowledge if less than complete conviction."

During their meal and continued discussion in Lioren's quarters, Cha Thrat did
not press him for information that he was unwilling to give, but he did not have
such an easy time at his next visit to Mannen.
"Dammit, Lioren," the ex-Diagnostician said, who seemed no longer to be troubled
by breathlessness, "Seldal tells me that you have been talking to the
Groalterri, and it to you, for longer than anyone else in the hospital, and that
you refuse to tell anyone about it. And now you want me to give you an ethical
justification for your silence without telling me the reason why you won't
speak.

"What the hell is going on, Lioren?" it ended. "Curiosity is killing me."

"Curiosity," Lioren said calmly, looking at the age-wasted body and face with
its youthful eyes, "would only be a contributing factor.''

The patient made an untranslatable sound. "Your problem, if I understand it
correctly, is that during your second and much lengthier visit to the Groalterri
you were given, presumably in exchange for personal data on yourself and
information regarding the worlds and peoples of the Federation, a large amount
of information about the patient, its people, and its culture. Much of this
information is impersonal and clinical and extremely valuable both to the
physician in charge of the Groalterri's treatment and to the cultural-contact
specialists of the Monitor Corps. You, however, feel that you have sworn
yourself to secrecy. But surely you know that neither you nor the patient have
the right to conceal such information."

Lioren kept one eye directed toward the biosensors, watching for signs of
respiratory distress following that long speech. He did not find any.

"The personal stuff, yes," Mannen went on. "My earlier attempt to get you to
shorten my waiting time here was not to become general knowledge, for it
affected only myself and had no bearing on the treatment of a patient of a new
species or that culture's future relations with the Federation. The clinical or
otherwise nonpersonal information you have been able to gather or deduce is pure
knowledge that you have no right to keep to yourself. It should be available to
everyone just as the operating principles of our scanners or the hyperdrive
generators are available to those able to understand and use them without risk,
although for a while in the bad old days the hyperdrive was considered to be a
top secret, whatever that meant. But knowledge is, well, knowledge. You might
just as well try to keep secret a natural law. Have you tried explaining all
this to your patient?"

"Yes," Lioren said. "But when I suggested making the non-personal sections of
our conversation public, and argued that it would not be breaking a confidence
because it was clearly impractical to ask every single Groalterri in their
population for their permission to reveal this information, it said that it
would have to think carefully about its reply. I 'm sure it would like to help
us, but there may be a religious constraint, and I would not want to cause an
adverse reaction through impatience. If it became angry, it is capable of
tearing a hole through the structure and opening the ward to space."

"Yes," Mannen said, showing its teeth. "Children, no matter how large they
happen to be, can sometimes throw tantrums. Regarding the religious aspect,
there are many Earth-humans who believe that—"

It stopped speaking because suddenly the small room was being invaded, first by
Chief Psychologist O'Mara, followed by Senior Physicians Seldal and Prilicla,
who flew in and attached itself with spidery, sucker-tipped legs to the ceiling,
where its fragile body would be in less danger from unguarded movements by its
more physically massive colleagues. O'Mara nodded in acknowledgment of Lioren's
presence and bent over the patient. When it spoke its voice had a softness that
Lioren had never heard before.

"I hear that you are talking to people again," O'Mara said, "and that you
especially want to talk to me, to ask a favor. How do you feel, old friend?"

Mannen showed its teeth and inclined its head in Seldal's direction. "I feel
fine, but why not ask the doctor?"

"There has been a minor remission of symptoms," Seldal responded before the
question could be asked, "but the clinical picture has not changed
substantially. The patient says that it is feeling better, but this must be a
self-delusion and, whether it remains here or goes elsewhere in the hospital, it
could still terminate at any time."

O'Mara's mention of the patient wanting a favor worried Lioren. He thought that
it was the same favor Mannen had asked of him, except that now it would be a
more public request for early termination, and he felt both sorrow and shame
that it should be so. But the empath, Prilicla, was not reacting as Lioren would
have expected to such an emotionally charged situation.

"Friend Mannen's emotional radiation," Prilicla said, the clicks and trillings
of its voice like a musical background to the words, "is such that it should not
cause concern to a psychologist or anyone else. Friend O'Mara does not have to
be reminded that a thinking entity is composed of a body and a mind, and that a
strongly motivated mind can greatly influence the body concerned. In spite of
the gloomy clinical picture, friend Mannen is indeed feeling well."

"What did I tell you?'' Mannen said. It showed its teeth again to O'Mara. "I
know that this is a fitness examination, with Seldal insisting that I am dying,
Prilicla equally insistent that I am feeling well, and you trying to adjudicate
between them. But for the past few days I have been suffering from nonclinical,
terminal boredom in here, and I want out. Naturally, I would not be able to
perform surgery or undertake any but the mildest physical exertion. But I am
still capable of teaching, of taking some of the load off Cresk-Sar, and the
technical people could devise a mobile cocoon for me with protective screens and
gravity nullifiers. I would much prefer to terminate while doing something than
doing nothing, and I—"

"Old friend," O'Mara said, holding up one digit to indicate the biosensor
displays, "will you for God's sake stop for breath!''

"I am not entirely helpless," Mannen said after the briefest of pauses. "I bet
that I could arm-wrestle Prilicla."

One of the Cinrusskin's incredibly fragile forelimbs detached itself from the
ceiling and reached down so that its slender digits rested for a moment on the
patient's forehead. "Friend Mannen," Prilicla said, "you might not win."

Lioren had strong feelings of pleasure and relief that the favor Mannen was
asking would reflect neither shame nor dishonor on the ex-Diagnostician's
reputation. But there was also a selfish feeling of impending loss, and for the
first time since the others had entered the room, Lioren spoke.

"Doctor Mannen," he said, "I would like . . . That is, may I still go on talking
to you?''
"Not," O'Mara said, turning to face Lioren, "until you damn well talk to me
first."

On the ceiling Prilicla's body had begun to tremble. It detached itself, made a
neat half loop, and flew slowly toward the door as it said, "My empathic faculty
tells me that shortly friends O'Mara and Lioren will be engaged in an argument,
accompanied as it must surely be by emotional radiation of a kind I would find
distressing, so let us leave them alone to settle it, friend Seldal."

"What about me?" Mannen said when the door had closed behind them.

"You, old friend," O'Mara said, "are the subject of this argument. You are
supposed to be dying. What exactly did this . . . this trainee psychologist, do
or say to you to bring about this insane urge to return to work?"

"Wild horses," Mannen said, showing its teeth again, "wouldn't drag it out of
me."

Lioren wondered what relevance a nonintelligent species of Earth quadruped had
to the conversation, and had decided that the words had a meaning other than
that assigned by his translator.

O'Mara swung around to face him and said, "Lioren, I want an immediate verbal
and later a more detailed written report of all the attendant circumstances and
conversations that took place between this patient and yourself. Begin."

It was not Lioren's intention to be disobedient or insubordinate by refusing to
speak, it was simply that he needed more time to separate the things he could
say from those which should on no account be revealed. But O'Mara's yellow-pink
face was deepening in color, and he was not to be given any time at all.

"Come, come," O'Mara said impatiently. "I knew that you were interviewing Mannen
in connection with the Seldal investigation. That was an obvious move on your
part even though, if Mannen did not ignore you as he had everyone else, it
carried the risk of you revealing what you were doing to the patient—"

"That is what happened, sir," Lioren broke in, knowing that they were on a safe
subject and hoping to stay there. "Doctor Mannen and I discussed the Seldal
assignment at length, and while the investigation is not yet complete, the
indications so far are that the subject is sane—"

"For a Senior Physician," Mannen said.

O'Mara made an angry sound and said, "Forget that investigation for the moment.
What concerns me now is that Seldal noticed a marked, nonclinical change in its
terminal patient which it ascribed to conversations with my trainee
psychologist. Subsequently it asked that you talk to its Groalterri patient, who
was stronger but being just as silent as Mannen, with the result that when it
did speak you forbade the use of speech recorders.''

When the Chief Psychologist went on, his voice was quiet but very clear, in the
way that Tarlans described as shouting in whispers, as it went on, "Tell me,
right now, what you said to these two patients, and they to you, that brought
about the change in the Groalterri's behavior and caused this, this particular
act of constructive insanity in a dying man."
One of its hands moved to rest very gently on Mannen's shoulder and even more
quietly it said, "I have professional, and personal, reasons for wanting to
know."

Once again Lioren searched his mind in silence for the right words until he was
ready to speak.

"With respect, Major O'Mara," Lioren said carefully, "some of the words that
passed between us contained nonpersonal information that may be revealed, but
only if the patients give their agreement to my doing so. Regrettably the rest,
which I expect is of primary interest to you as a psychologist, I cannot and
will not divulge."

O'Mara's face had again deepened in color while Lioren was speaking, but
gradually it lightened again. Then suddenly the Chief Psychologist twitched its
shoulders in the peculiarly Earth-human fashion and left the room.


Chapter 15

“YOU ask questions," the Groalterri said, "endlessly. ''

In such a massive creature it was impossible to detect changes of expression,
even if the gargantuan features were capable of registering them, and the
nonverbal signals he had been able to learn were few. Lioren had the feeling
that this was not going to be a productive meeting.

"I also answer questions," Lioren said, "for as long as they are asked."

Around and below him the tightly curled tentacles stirred like great, organic
mountain ranges caught in a seismic disturbance, and became still again. Lioren
was not unduly worried, because the tantrum of his first visit had not been
repeated.

"I have no questions," the patient said. "My curiosity is crushed by a great
weight of guilt. Go away."

Lioren withdrew to indicate his willingness to obey, but only by a short
distance to show that he still wanted to talk.

"Satisfying my curiosity," he said, "makes me forget my own guilt for a time, as
does satisfying the curiosity of others. Perhaps I could help you to forget your
guilt, for a while, by answering the questions you do not ask."

The patient did not move or speak, and Lioren, as he had done when previously
faced with this form of negative reaction, took it as a reluctant acquiesence
and went on talking.

The Groalterri was physiologically unsuited to travel in space, so he talked
about one of the other species who were similarly hampered and others for whom
star travel should have been impossible but was not. He spoke of the great
strata creatures of Drambo, whose vast bodies could grow like a living carpet to
cover the area of a subcontinent, who used as eyes the millions of flowers that
made of their backs a light-sensitive skin, and who, in spite of the vegetable
metabolism that made physical movement so slow, had minds that were quick and
sharp and powerful.
He told of the vicious, incredibly violent and mindless Protectors of the
Unborn, who neither slept nor ceased fighting from the moment they were born
into their incredibly savage environment until they died because of the weakness
of age and the inability to protect themselves from their lastborn. But within
that organic fighting and killing machine there was an embryo whose telepathic
mind was rich and full and gentle, taught as it was by the telepathy of its
unborn brothers, and whose ability to think was tragically destroyed after its
long gestation by the process of birth.

"Protectors of the Unborn have been brought to this hospital," Lioren went on,
"where we are trying to devise ways of birthing their offspring without the
consequent mind destruction, and of training these newly born not to attack and
kill everyone on sight."

While Lioren had been speaking, the Groalterri remained still and silent. He
resumed, but gradually his subject was changing from descriptions of the
physiological attributes of the beings who made up the Federation to the
philosophical viewpoints which joined or sometimes separated them. He wanted to
know what was troubling the patient, so the change was deliberate.

Lioren went on. "An act which is considered to be a great wrong by one species
because of an evolutionary imperative or, less often, by a too-narrow
philosophical education, can be viewed by another as normal and blameless
behavior. Often the judge, who is never physically present but has others to
speak for it, is an immaterial entity who is believed to be the all-knowing ,
all-powerful, and all-merciful Creator of All Things.''

Below and around him the tentacles stirred restively, the eye that had been
regarding him steadily closed, but there was no other reaction. Lioren knew that
he was taking a risk by continuing in this vein, but there was suddenly a need
within him to understand the mind of this great and greatly troubled being.

"My knowledge of this subject is incomplete," he continued, "but among the
majority of the intelligent species it is said that this omnipotent and
immaterial being has manifested itself in physical form. The physiological
classifications vary to suit the environments of the planets concerned, but in
all cases it manifests itself as a teacher and lawgiver who suffers death at the
hands of those who cannot at first accept its teachings. But these teachings, in
a short time or long, form the philosophical foundation of mutual respect,
understanding, and cooperation between individuals of that species which
eventually lead to the formation of a planetary and interstellar civilization.

"There are many beings who hold the belief that it is the same being in every
case who, whenever its creation is threatened and its teachings are most needed,
manifested or will manifest itself on all worlds. But the common factors in all
these beliefs are sympathy, understanding, and forgiveness for past wrongs,
whatever form they have taken and no matter whether they be venial or of the
utmost gravity. The quality of this forgiveness is demonstrated by the
manifestation's death, which is reported in all cases to be shameful and
physically distressing.

On Earth it is said that termination occurred after being attached with metal
spikes to a wooden cross, and the Crepellian octo-poids used what they called
the Circle of Shame, in which the limbs are staked out at full extension on dry
ground until death by dehydration occurs, while on Kelgia—"
"Small Lioren," the Groalterri said, suddenly opening its eye, "do you expect
this omnipotent being to forgive your own grievous wrong?''

After the patient's long silence the question took Lioren by surprise. "I don't
. . . What I mean is, there are others who believe that these teachers and
lawgivers arise naturally in any intelligent culture which is in transition
between barbarism and the beginnings of true civilization. On some worlds there
have been many lawgivers, whose teachings vary in small details, not all of
whose adherents believe them to be manifestations of an omnipotent being. All of
these teachers advocated showing mercy and forgiveness to wrongdoers, and they
usually died at the hands of their own people. Was there an entity of that kind,
a great teacher and forgiver, in Groalterri history?''

The eye continued to regard him, but the patient's speaking membrane remained
still. Perhaps the question had been offensive in some fashion, for it was plain
that the Groalterri was not going to answer it. Sadly, Lioren ended, "I do not
believe I can be forgiven because I cannot forgive myself."

This time the response was immediate, and utterly surprising.

"Small Lioren," the Groalterri said, "my question has brought a great hurt to
your mind, and for this I am sorry. You have been engaging my mind with stories
of the worlds and peoples of your Federation, and of their strangely similar
philosophies, and for a time my own great hurt was diminished. You deserve more
of me, and shall be given more, than a hurt in return for a kindness.

"The information I shall now give you, and this information only, you may relay
to and discuss with others. It concerns the origins and history of the
Groalterri and contains nothing that is personal to myself. Any previous or
subsequent conversations between us must remain private."

"Of course!" Lioren said, so loudly that in his excitement he overloaded his
translator. "I am grateful; we will all be grateful. But—but our gratitude to
you is impersonal. Can you at least tell me who and what you are?''

He stopped, wondering if asking the other's name had been a mistake, perhaps his
last mistake.

One of the creature's tentacles uncurled suddenly and its bony tip whistled past
Lioren's head to strike the metal wall, where it made deafening, intermittent
contact for a few seconds before being as quickly withdrawn.

At the center of one of the few areas of plating left unscarred after its
previous tantrum there was a perfect geometrical figure of an eight-pointed
star. The lines making it up were straight and of equal depth and thickness,
something between a deep, bright scratch and a fine, shallow trench in the
metal, and the lines of the figure were accurately joined without gaps or
overlapping.

"I am Small Hellishomar the Cutter," it said quietly. "You, Lioren, would call
me a surgeon."


Chapter 16

Hellishomar concentrated its attack on an area where the skin was thin and the
underlying tissues soft, tearing into the flesh with all four blades until the
bloody crater was large and deep enough to admit its body and equipment. Then it
closed and sealed the flap of the entry wound behind it, switched on the
lighting and eye-cover washers, checked the level of the flammables tank, and
resumed burrowing.

This Parent was old, old enough to be the parent of Hellishomar's parent's
parent, and the gray rot that afflicted the aged was already well established
all over and deep within its gargantuan body. As was usual with Parents, it had
concealed the early symptoms so as to avoid the days of severe pain and violence
that surgery would entail until the visibly growing cancers had left it unable
to move, and one of the passing Smalls had reported its condition to the Guild
of Cutters.

Hellishomar was old for a Small as well as large for a Cutter, but its extensive
knowledge and unrivaled experience more than made up for the damage caused by
the size of the entry wounds it was forced to make; and here the deeper tissues
were soft so that often he was able to squeeze through a single incision rather
than hacking a bloody tunnel into perfectly healthy flesh.

Avoiding the larger blood vessels or heat-sealing those that could not be
avoided, and ignoring the severed capilliaries which would close naturally,
Hellishomar cut rapidly and accurately without waste of time. During deep work
the compressed air tanks had to be small, otherwise the entry wound would have
been larger, the damage greater, and the progress slower.

Then suddenly it was visible, the first internal evidence of the growth, and
precisely in the predicted position.

Lying diagonally across the newly deepened incision there was a thin, yellow
tube whose tough walls and oily surface had enabled it to slide away from the
blade tentacle. It pulsed faintly as it drew nutrient from the gray, necrotic
growth spreading over the Parent's surface tegument to the heart-root, or roots,
deep inside the body. Hellishomar changed direction to follow it down.

Within a few moments there was another yellow tube visible on one side of the
tunnel, then another and another, all converging towards a single point below
him. Hellishomar cut and squeezed through them until the heart-root itself lay
exposed like a veined, uneven globe that seemed to glow with its own sickly
yellow light. In size it was only a little smaller than Hel-lishomar's head.
Quickly he excised a clear space all around and above it, severing in the
process more than twenty of the rootlets and two thicker tubes which were the
connections to secondaries. Then, taking up a position which would allow the
heat and bloody steam to escape and disperse along the entry wound rather than
stewing the Cutter in his own body fluids, Hellishomar attacked the foul thing
with his burner turned up to full intensity.

Hellishomar did not stop until the heart-root was converted to ash, and then he
gathered the ashes into a small pile and flamed them again. He followed the
connector to the secondary, burning it behind him as he went, until he found
another heart-root and removed that. When the external Cutters had completed
their work, the fine root connections to the surface growths, severed at both
ends and starved of nutrient, would wither and shrink so that they could be
withdrawn from the Parent's body with the minimum of discomfort.

In spite of the wipers that were laboring to keep the eye-covers clear, there
was an increasing and irregular impairment of Hellishomar's vision. His
movements were becoming slower, the strokes of his cutting blades less precise,
and the quality of his surgery diabolical. He diagnosed the condition as a
combination of heat exhaustion and asphyxiation and turned at once to begin
cutting a path to the nearest breathing passage.

A sudden increase of resistance to the cutters indicated that he had encountered
the tough outer membrane of a breathing passage. Carefully Hellishomar forced
through an incision large enough to allow entrance to his head and upper body
only so as to minimize bleeding from the wound, then stopped and uncovered his
gills.

Water not yet warmed by the Parent's body heat washed past Hellishomar's
overheated body, replacing the stale tanked air in his lungs and clearing both
vision and mind. His pleasure was short-lived because a few moments later the
flood of clear, gill-filtered water diminished to a trickle as the Parent
changed to air-breathing mode. Quickly withdrawing the rest of his body from the
wound, Hellishomar uncoiled his cutter-tipped tentacles to full extension,
making the shallow, angled incisions in the breathing passage wall which would
enable it to maintain position above the wound when the storm of inhaled air
blew past.

The Parent's nerve network made it aware of everything that occurred in its vast
body and the exact position of the events as they took place, and it also knew
that wounds healed more readily in air than in water. As he expertly drew
together the edges of the exit wound with sutures, Hellishomar wished that just
once one of the great creatures would touch its mind, perhaps to thank him for
the surgical intervention that would extend its life, or to criticize the Small
selfishness which made it want thanks, or merely to acknowledge the fact of its
existence.

Parents knew everything, but spoke of their knowledge to none but another
Parent.

The wind of inhalation died and there was a moment of dead calm as the Parent
prepared to exhale. Hellishomar made a final check on the wound sutures,
released its grip on the wall, and dropped onto the soft floor of the breathing
passage. There it rolled itself tightly into a ball of its own tentacles, and
waited. Suddenly its body was lifted and hurled along the breathing passage by a
hurricane which coughed it onto the surface of the outside world . . .

"There Hellishomar had rested and replaced its consumables," Lioren went on,
"because this Parent was old and large and there was still much work to do."

He paused so as to give O'Mara a chance to respond. When he had requested
permission to make an immediate verbal report on his return from the Groalterri
ward, the Chief Psychologist had expressed surprise in a tone which Lioren now
recognized as sarcastic, but thereafter it had listened without interruption or
physical movement.

"Continue," O'Mara said.

"I have been told," Lioren went on, "that the history of the Groalterri is
composed entirely of memories handed down over the millennia. I have been
assured of their accuracy, but archeo-logical evidence to support them is not
available. The culture has, therefore, no presapient history, and in this
respect my report must be deductive rather than factual."

"Then by all means," O'Mara said, "deduce."
No early historical records had been kept on the mineral-starved swamp and ocean
world of the Groalterri, because the life span of its people was longer and
their memories clearer and more trustworthy than any marks placed upon animal
skins or layers of woven vegetation that would fade and rot long before the
lives of the writers would be ended. Groalter was a large world that orbited its
small, hot sun once every two and one-quarter Standard Years, and one of its
gigantic intelligent life-forms would have had to be unhealthy or unfortunate
indeed not to have witnessed five hundred such rotations.

It was only with the recent advent—recent as the Groalterri measured the passage
of time—of Small technology that permanent written records had been kept. These
were concerned principally with the discoveries and observations made by the
scientific bases that had been established, with great difficulty and loss of
Small life, in the heavy-gravity conditions of the polar regions. Groalter's
rapid rotation gave low levels of gravity only in a broad band above and below
the equator, where the tidal effects of its large satellite kept the vast,
inhabited oceans and swamps constantly in motion, and this continuing tidal
action had long since eroded away its few equatorial landmasses.

In time—a long time even as the Groalterri measured it—their great, uninhabited
moon would spin closer until it and the mother planet collided in mutual
destruction.

The Small made such advances in technology as were possible in their impermanent
environment. And every day of their young lives they tried to control the animal
nature within them so that they might arrive more quickly at the mental maturity
of the Parents, who spent their long lives thinking great thoughts while they
controlled and conserved the resources of the only world that, because of their
great size, they could ever know.

"There are two distinct cultures on Groalter," Lioren continued. "There are the
Small, of which our overlarge patient is a member, and the Parents, of whom even
their own children know little."

Within their first Groalter year the Small were forced to leave the Parents, to
be cared for and educated by slightly more senior children. This seeming act of
cruelty was necessary to the mental health and continued survival of the Parents
because, during their years of immaturity, the Small were considered to be
little more than savage animals whose quality of mentation and behavior made
them utterly repellent to the adults.

In spite of being unable to bear their violent and unsettling presence, the
Parents loved them dearly and watched over their welfare at a distance.

But the mind of a Small of the Groalterri, when compared with the level of
intelligence and social behavior possessed by the average member species of the
Federation, was neither savage nor stupid. For many thousands of Earth-standard
years, during their long wait between birth and achieving adulthood, they had
been solely responsible for the development of Groalterri physical science and
technology. During that period they had no communication with their elders, and
their physical contacts were incredibly violent and restricted to surgical
interventions aimed at prolonging the Parents' lives.

"This behavior," Lioren continued, "is beyond my experience. Apparently the
Small hold the Parents in high regard, and they respect and obey and try to help
them as much as they are able, but the Parents do not respond in any way other
than by passively and at times reluctantly submitting to their surgery.

"The Small use a spoken and written language, and the Parents are said to have
great but unspecified mental powers which include wideband telepathy. They use
them to exchange thoughts among themselves, and for the control and conservation
of every nonintelligent living creature in Groalter's ocean. For some reason
they will not use telepathy to talk to their own young or, for that matter, to
the Monitor Corps contact specialists presently in orbit above their planet.

"Such behavior is totally without precedent," Lioren ended helplessly, "and
beyond my understanding."

O'Mara showed its teeth. "It is beyond your present understanding. Nevertheless,
your report is of great interest to me and of greater value to the contact
specialists. Their ignorance of the Groalterri is no longer total, and the Corps
will be grateful and pleased with their onetime Surgeon-Captain. I, however, am
impressed but not pleased because the report of the lowest-ranking member of my
department, Trainee Lioren, is far from complete. You are still trying to hide
important information from me."

Clearly the the Chief Psychologist was better at reading Tarlan facial and tonal
expressions than Lioren was at reading those of an Earth-human. It was Lioren's
turn to remain silent.

"Let me remind you," O'Mara said in a louder voice, "that Hellishomar is a
patient and this hospital, which includes Seldal and you and myself, is charged
with the responsibility for solving its medical problem. Clearly Seldal
suspected that there might be a psychological component to this clinical problem
and, having observed the results of your talks with Mannen and knowing that it
could not approach me officially because this department's responsibility lies
only with the mental health of the staff, it asked you to talk to the patient.
This may not be a psychiatric hospital, but Hellishomar is a special case. It is
the first Groalterri ever to have spoken with us, or more accurately, with you.
I want to help it as much as you do, and I have greater experience than you in
tinkering with other-species mentalities. My interest in the case is entirely
professional, as is my curiosity regarding any personal information it may have
disclosed to you, information which will be used therapeutically and not
discussed with anyone else. Do you understand my position?"

"Yes," Lioren said.

"Very well," O'Mara said when it was obvious that Lioren would say nothing more.
"If you are too stupid and insubordinate to accede to a superior's request,
perhaps you are intelligent enough to take suggestions. Ask the patient how it
came by its injuries, if you haven't already done so and are hiding the answer
from me. And ask whether it was Hellishomar or someone else who broke the
Groalterri silence to request medical assistance. The contact specialists are
puzzled by the circumstances of the distress call and wish clarification."

"I did try to ask those questions," Lioren said. "The patient became agitated
and gave no answers other than to say that it personally had not requested
assistance."

"What did it say?" O'Mara said quickly. "What were its exact words?"

Lioren remained silent.
The Chief Psychologist made a short, untranslatable sound and sat back in its
chair. "The Seldal investigation you were given is not in itself important, but
the constraints placed on you most certainly were. I knew that you would have to
work through Seldal's patients to gather information, and that one of them was
Mannen. I hoped that putting the two of you together, the patient suffering from
preterminal emotional distress and refusing all contact with friends and
colleagues, and a Tar-Ian whose problems made Mannen's look minor indeed, would
cause him to open up to the stage where I might be able to help him. Without
further intervention by me, you achieved results that were much better than I
could have hoped for, and I am truly grateful. My gratitude and the minor nature
of the affair allowed me to ignore your tiresome insubordination, but this is a
different matter.

"It was Seldal's idea, not mine, that you should talk to the Groalterri," O'Mara
continued, "and I did not learn of it until after the event. Until now I knew
nothing of what passed between you, and now I want to know everything. This
involves a first-contact situation with a species that is both highly
intelligent and until now completely uncommunicative. But you have been able to
talk to one of them, and for some reason have achieved more in a few days than
the Monitor Corps in as many years. I am impressed and so will be the Corps. But
surely you must see that withholding information, any information regard- less
of its nature, that might help widen contact is stupid and criminal.

"This is not the time for playing ethical games, dammit," O'Mara ended in a
quieter voice. "It is much too important for that. Do you agree?"

"With respect—" Lioren began, when a sudden movement of O'Mara's hand silenced
him.

"That means no," the Chief Psychologist said angrily. "Forget the verbal
niceties. Why don't you agree?"

"Because," Lioren said promptly, "I was not given permission to pass on this
kind of information, and I feel that it is important that I continue to do as
the patient requests. Hellishomar is becoming more willing to give information
about Groalter, at least, for general distribution. If I had not respected its
confidence from the beginning, it is likely that we would have been given no
information of any kind. Much more data on the Groalterri will be forthcoming,
but only if you and the Corps are patient and I remain silent unless
specifically directed otherwise by the patient. If I break confidence with
Hellishomar, the flow of information will cease."

While he had been speaking, O'Mara's facial pigmentation had grown a dark shade
of pink again. In an effort to avert what promised to be a major emotional
outburst, Lioren went on. "I apologize for my insubordinate behavior, but the
continuing insubordination is being forced on me by the patient rather than any
lack of respect. It is grossly unfair to you, sir, because you wish only to help
the patient. Even though it is not deserved, I would welcome any help or advice
that you would be willing to give."

O'Mara's fixed, unblinking stare was making Lioren uneasy. He   had the feeling
that the other's eyes were looking directly into his mind and   reading every
thought in it, which was ridiculous because Earth-human DBDGs   were not a
telepathic species. Its face had lightened in color but there   was no other
reaction.
"Earlier," Lioren said, "when I said that the Groalterri behavior was beyond my
understanding, you said that it was beyond my present understanding. Were you
implying that the situation has a precedent?''

O'Mara's face had returned to its normal coloration. It showed its teeth
briefly. "It has many precedents, almost as many as there are member species in
the Federation, but you were too close to the situation to see them. I ask you
to consider the sequence of events that occurs when an embryo is growing between
the time of conception and birth, although for obvious reasons I shall discuss
these events as they affect my own species."

The Chief Psychologist clasped its hands loosely together on the desktop and
adopted the calm, clinical manner of a lecturer. "Growth changes in the embryo
within the womb follow closely the evolutionary development of the species as a
whole, although on a more compressed time scale. The unborn begins as a blind,
limbless, and primitive water-dweller floating in an am-niotic ocean, and ends
as a small, physically helpless, and stupid replica of an adult person, but with
a mind which will in a relatively short time equal or surpass that of its
parents. On Earth the evolutionary path that led to the four-limbed land animal
becoming the thinking creature Man was long, and with many unsuccessful side
turnings which resulted in creatures that had Man's shape but not his
intelligence."

"I understand," Lioren said. "It was the same on Tarla. But what is the
significance in this case?"

"On Earth as on Tarla," O'Mara went on, ignoring the question, "there was an
interim stage in the development of a fully intelligent, self-aware form of
life. On Earth we called the early, less intelligent men Neanderthal and the
form that violently replaced it Cro-Magnon. There were small physical variations
between the two, but the important difference was unseen. Cro-Magnon man,
although still little more than a savage animal, possessed what was called the
New Mind, the type of mind which enables civilizations to grow and flourish and
cover not one world but many. But should they have tried to teach their
forebears beyond their ability to learn or left them alone? On Earth in the past
there were many unhappy experiences between so-called civilized men and
aboriginals."

At first Lioren did not understand the reason for O'Mara speaking in such
oversimplified generalities, but suddenly he saw where the other was leading
him.

"If we return to the analogy of prenatal and prehistoric evolution," the Chief
Psychologist continued, "and assuming that the gestation period of the
Groalterri is proportional to their life span, isn't it possible that they also
experienced this preliminary stage of lesser intelligence? But let us also
assume that their young experience it, not before but after they are born. This
would mean that during the time from birth to prepuberty the Small belong
temporarily to a different species from that of their elders, a species
considered by the Parents to be cruel and savage and, relatively speaking, of
low intelligence and diminished sensitivity. But these young savages are the
well-beloved offspring of these Parents."

O'Mara showed its teeth again. "The highly intelligent and hypersensitive
Parents would avoid the Small as much as possible, because it is likely that
making telepathic contact with such young and primitive minds would be
unpleasant in the extreme. It is also probable that the Parents do not make
contact because of the risk of damaging their young minds, and retarding their
later philosophical development by trying to instruct them before their immature
brains are physiologically ready to accept adult teaching.

"That is the type of behavior we expect of a loving and responsible Parent."

Lioren turned all of his eyes on the aging Earth-human, trying vainly to find
the words of respect and admiration that were suited to the occasion. Finally,
he said, "Your words are not supposition. I believe them to describe the facts
of the situation in every important respect. This information will greatly aid
my understanding of Hellishomar's emotional distress. I am truly grateful, sir."

"There is a way that you can show your gratitude," O'Mara said.

Lioren did not reply.

O'Mara shook its head and looked past Lioren at the office door. "Before you
leave," it said, "there is information you should have and a question we would
like you to ask the patient. Who requested medical assistance for it, and how?
The usual communications channels were not used, and telepathy, originating as
it does from an organic nondirectional transmitter of very low power, is
supposed to be impossible at distances over a few hundred yards. There is also
great mental discomfort when a telepath tries to force communication with a
nontelepath.

"But the facts," the Chief Psychologist went on, "are that Captain Stillson, the
commander of the orbiting contact ship, reported having a strange feeling. He
was the only member of the crew to have this feeling, which he likened to a
strong hunch that something was wrong on the planetary surface. Until then
nobody had even considered making a landing on Groalter without permission from
the natives, but Stillson took his ship down to the precise spot where the
injured Hellishomar was awaiting retrieval and arranged to transport the patient
without delay to Sector General, all because he had a very strong feeling that
he should do these things. The captain insists that at no time was there any
outside influence and that his mind remained his own.''

Lioren was still trying to assimilate this new information, and wondering
whether or not it should be given to the patient, when O'Mara spoke again.

"It makes me wonder about the mental capabilities of the adult Groalterri," it
said in a voice so quiet that it might have been talking to itself. "If they do
not, as now seems evident, communicate with their own young because of the risk
of stunting subsequent mental and philosophical development, that must also be
the reason they refuse all contact with our supposedly advanced cultures of the
Federation."


Chapter 17

LlOREN'S next meeting with Hellishomar was very useful and intensely
frustrating. It gave many interesting pieces of information about the life and
behavior of the Small, and said that Lioren was free to discuss the material
with others, but it seemed to be talking too much about a subject that was not
on its mind. The Monitor Corps would be delighted with the details of Groalterri
Small society that he was discovering, but Lioren had a strong feeling that the
patient was talking to avoid talking about something else. After three hours of
listening to information that was becoming repetitious, Lioren lost patience.
During the next pause he said quickly, "Hellishomar, I am pleased and grateful,
as will be my colleagues, for this information about your home world. But I
would prefer to hear, and

I have the feeling that you would prefer to speak, about yourself."

The Groalterri stopped talking.

Lioren forced patience on himself and tried to find the right words of
encouragement. Speaking slowly and with many pauses, so as to give Hellishomar
every chance to interrupt his questions with an answer, he asked, "Are you
concerned about your injuries? There is no need because Seldal assures me that
the treatment, although delayed because of the size difference between surgeon
and patient, is progressing well and your life is no longer threatened by the
infection that has penetrated your body. Are you not a skilled Cutter and highly
respected by the Small, who will soon welcome you back to continue the work of
extending the lives of Parents? Surely these ailing Parents must also hold you
in high regard because of the surgical skills that you can still—"

"I have grown too large to help the Parents," Hellishomar said suddenly, ' 'or
to continue as a Cutter. The Small will not want me, either. I am nothing but a
failure and an embarrassment to all of them, and I am doubly ashamed because of
the great wrong I have done."

Lioren wished that he had more time to think about the implications of this
information, and his need to question Hellishomar more closely about it was like
a great hunger in his mind. But he was moving into a sensitive area that had
been approached before without success. It was likely that too many questions on
this subject might seem to Hellishomar like an interrogation, might even imply a
judgment and the apportioning of guilt on Lioren's part. His instincts told him
that this was a time for further encouragement rather than questions.

"But surely you have grown in surgical experience as well as physical size,"
Lioren said. "You have said as much yourself. Among many of the peoples of the
Federation, an entity who has amassed great knowledge, and who is no longer
capable of the physical work involved, makes that knowledge available to the
young and less experienced members of its profession. You could become a
teacher, Hellishomar. Your knowledge could be passed on to others of the Small
who are sure to be grateful to you for it, as would the Parents for the lives
you will indirectly have saved. Is this not so?"

Hellishomar's enormous tentacles moved restively, heaving like great, fleshy
waves on an organic ocean. "It is not so, Lioren. The Small will pretend that I
do not exist, so that my shame will drive me to the loneliest and most
inhospitable part of the swamp that I can find, and the Parents . . . The
Parents will ignore and never speak with their minds to me. There are
precedents, thankfully a very few, in Groalterri history for what will happen to
me. I will be an outcast for the whole of my very long life, with only my
thoughts and my guilt for company, for that is the punishment I deserve."

The words, thought Lioren with a sudden rush of remembered pain and guilt, were
an echo of those he had used so often to himself, and for a moment he could
think of nothing but the Cromsaggar. Frantically he tried to return his mind to
Hellish-omar's sin, which could not possibly be as grievous as that of wiping
out a planetary population. Perhaps one of the Small, or even a Parent, had died
because of something Hellishomar had or had not done. With Lioren's crime there
could be no real comparison.

In an unsteady voice Lioren said, "I cannot know whether or not your punishment
is deserved unless you tell me of the crime, or the sin, you have committed. I
know nothing of Groalterri philosophy or theology, and I would be pleased to
learn of these matters from you if you are allowed to discuss them. But from my
recent studies I know that there is one factor common to all the religions
practiced throughout the Federation, and that is forgiveness for sins. Are you
sure the Parents will not forgive you?''

"The Parents did not touch my mind," Hellishomar replied. "If they did not do so
before I left Groalter, they never will."

"Are you sure?" Lioren said again. "Did you know that the Parents touched the
mind of the officer commanding the ship orbiting your planet? The touch was
gentle and almost without trace, and it was the first and only time that a
Groalterri made direct contact with an off-worlder, but nevertheless the captain
was directed accurately to the place where you were dying."

Without giving Hellishomar time to respond, Lioren continued. "You have already
told me that the Parents are philosophically incapable of inflicting physical
damage or pain, and mat even the most skilled Cutters among the Small are too
crude and awkward in their methods to undertake surgery on one of their own
kind; only the oldest and largest Parents become sick, the Small never. It is
certain that your Small colleagues could never equal the delicacy and precision
of the work performed by Seldal. You know this to be so, and you know also that
if you had not been taken to this hospital you would be dead.

"That being so," Lioren went on quickly, "is it not possible, indeed is it not a
certainty that the Parents responsible for your presence here have already
forgiven you? By their willingness to break with Groalterri tradition to ask
help from an off-planet species, have they not given proof that they have
forgiven you, that they value you and are doing all that they can to help you
return to full health?"

While he had been speaking, the patient's great body had remained absolutely
motionless, but it was the stillness of extreme muscular tension rather than
repose. Lioren hoped that the Hudlar nurse on the tractor beam was alert to the
situation and ready to pull him out.

"They spoke to a strange, Small-minded off-worlder," Hellishomar said, "but not
to me."

Be careful, Lioren told himself warningly, this might be a very hurt and angry
Groalterri. "I had assumed from what you told me earlier that the Parents did
not touch the minds of the Small for any reason. Was I mistaken? What do they
say to you?''

Hellishomar's great muscles were still fighting each other, and so evenly
matched were they that its body remained motionless. "Are you less intelligent
than I assumed, Lioren? Don't you realize that the Small do not remain the Small
forever? In preparation for the transition into adulthood of the most senior
among us, the Parents touch our minds gently and instruct us in the great laws
that guide and bind the long lives of the Parents. We are given the reasons why
they seek to live for as long as possible in spite of sickness and physical
pain—so that they may be adequately prepared to Go Out. All of these laws are
passed on in simplified form to the very young among us by Small teachers who
are on the verge of maturity.

"I have waited with patience for the Parents to speak to me," Hellishomar went
on, "because I have grown old and large and should rightly have been a young
Parent by now. But they do not speak to me. In Groalterri history there are
precedents for my situation, a very few of them, fortunately, so I knew that a
long, lonely, unhappy and uneventful mental life lay ahead of me. Then in my
great despair I committed the most grievous sin of all, and now the Parents will
never speak to me."

As the implications of what the other had been saying became clear to Lioren, a
great wave of sympathy washed over his mind, and with it the growing excitement
of being on the verge of a full understanding of Hellishomar's problem. He was
remembering Seldal's description of the patient's clinical condition and
Hellishomar's insistence that the Small were impervious to illness. Now he knew
the nature of the great sin that Hellishomar had committed, because Lioren had
come very close to committing it himself.

He wished that there was some way that he could bring consolation to this
gravely troubled being, or relieve the inner distress of knowing that among its
own highly intelligent kind it was mentally retarded. That had been the reason
Hellishomar had tried to end its own life.

He said gently, "If the Parents touch the minds and speak to the Small who are
nearing maturity, and for the first time to an off-worlder ship captain in the
hope that your injuries could be successfully treated, then they must have a
high regard, perhaps a great affection, for you. The reason they do not speak
and tell you so is because you cannot hear them. Am I right, Hellishomar?"

"To my shame," Hellishomar replied, "you are right."

"It is possible," Lioren said, carefully avoiding all mention of Hellishomar's
other shame, "that your future life will not be lonely. If embarrassment or
other reasons keep the Small from talking to you, and you cannot hear the words
of the Parents, there are others who would gladly speak and listen and learn
from you. The off-worlders would be pleased to set up a base on the polar hard
ground and make it as comfortable as possible for you. If the Parents do not
allow this, you could be provided with communications devices which would enable
two-way contact to be maintained from orbit. Admittedly, this would not be as
satisfactory as full telepathic contact with the Parents, but many questions
would be asked and answered by the off-worlders and yourself. Their curiosity
about the Groalterri is as great as is yours about the Federation, and will
require a long time to satisfy. It is said by many of our foremost thinkers
that, to a truly intelligent entity, the satisfaction of curiosity is the
greatest and most lasting of pleasures. You would not be lonely, Hellishomar,
nor would there be little to occupy your mind."

Around and below Lioren the patient's body was stirring although muscular
tension was still evident.

"You would not be exchanging mere words," Lioren went on quickly, "or the verbal
questions and answers and descriptions that have passed between us here. When
you are well again, large-screen viewing facilities will be made available to
you. The visuals will be three-dimensional and in full color. Not only will they
show you the physical structure of the galaxy in which we live and the tiny
fraction of it that is populated by the Federation, but display to you in as
much detail as you desire the science and cultures and philosophies of the many
and widely varied intelligent life-forms who are its members. Arrangements could
be made that would enable you to question these life-forms and, visually and
aurally, to live among many of them. Your life would be long, Hellishomar, but
full and interesting so that the absence of Parent mental contact would not be
so—"

"No!"

Once again the razor-edged, bony tip of a cutting tentacle whistled past
Lioren's head to crash against the wall plating. Surprise and fear paralyzed
both his body and mind, but only for an instant. Before the metallic
reverberations had died away he was talking urgently to the Hudlar in the
Nurses' Station, telling it not to pull him out. If Hellishomar had wanted that
cutting blade to strike him, he would have been a bloody, dismembered corpse by
now. With a great effort he forced himself to speak calmly.

"Have I offended you?'' Lioren asked. "I do not understand. If nobody else is
willing to speak to you, why do you refuse contact with the Fed—"

"Stop talking about it!" Hellishomar broke in, its voice loud and unmodulated as
that of a person who could not hear itself speak. "I am unworthy, and you tempt
me to an even greater sin."

Lioren was deeply puzzled by this sudden change in the other's behavior, but
decided to give the words and circumstances that had led up to it more serious
thought at another time. He hoped that the ban on conversation referred to the
one hyper- sensitive topic, whatever that was. But now he had to apologize
without knowing what he was apologizing for.

"If I have given offense," Lioren said, "such was not my intention and I am
truly sorry. What is it that I've said that offends you? We can discuss a
subject of your choosing. The work of this hospital, for example, or the Monitor
Corps's continuing search for inhabited worlds in the unexplored reaches of our
galaxy, or scientific disciplines practiced throughout the Federation that are
unknown to a water world like Groalter—"

Lioren broke off, his body and tongue alike paralyzed with fear. The razor edge
of a cutting blade had swept up to within a fraction of an inch of his forebody
and face. Any higher and it would have lopped off two of his eyestalks. Suddenly
the flat of the blade pressed hard against his chin, chest, and abdomen, pushing
him away. Hellishomar's tentacle continued to uncurl to full extension, and the
blade was not withdrawn until Lioren had been deposited back at the entrance to
the Nurses' Station.

"Officially I have heard nothing," said the Hudlar nurse on duty, after it had
satisfied itself that Lioren was uninjured, "but unofficially I would say that
the patient does not want to speak to you."

"The patient needs help ..." Lioren began.

He fell silent then because his thoughts were rushing far ahead of his words.
The recent conversation with Hellishomar, together with the information he had
already gathered or deduced about the Groalterri culture, was forming a picture
in his mind that grew clearer with every moment that passed. Suddenly he knew
what had to be done to and for Hellishomar and the entities who were capable of
doing it, but there were serious moral and ethical considerations that worried
him. He was sure, or as sure as it was possible to be before the event, that he
was right. But he had been right on a previous occasion, right and proud and
impatient in his self-confidence, and the population of a world had all but
died. He did not want to take on the responsibility for destroying another
planetary culture, not alone.

"And so do I," he finished.


Chapter 18

HE found Senior Physician Prilicla in the dining hall, its four sets of slowly
beating, iridescent wings maintaining a stable hover above the tabletop while it
ingested a yellow, stringy substance which the menu screen identified as Earth-
human spaghetti. The process by which the little empath drew the strands from
the platter and used its delicate forward manipulators to weave them into a
fine, continuous rope which disappeared slowly into its eating mouth was one of
the most fascinating sights that Lioren had ever seen.

As he was about to apologize for interrupting the other's meal, Lioren
discovered that the musical trills and clicks of the Cin-russkin's speech came
from a different orifice.

"Friend Lioren," Prilicla said. "I can sense that you are not feeling hunger, or
even repugnance at my unusual in-flight method of eating, and that your
predominant feeling and probable reason for approaching me is curiosity. How may
I satisfy it?"

Cinrusskin GLNOs were empaths, emotion-sensitives who were forced to do
everything in their power to insure that the emotional radiation of those around
them was as pleasant as possible because to do otherwise would have caused them
to suffer the identical feelings that they had caused. In their words and deeds
Cinrusskins were invariably pleasant and helpful, but Lioren was nonetheless
relieved and grateful for the reminder that it was unnecessary to waste time on
verbal politeness.

"I am curious about your empathic faculty and in particular its similarities to
full telepathy," he said. "My special interest is in the organic structures, the
nerve connections, blood supply, and operating mechanism of an organic
transmitter-receiver, and the clinical signs and subjective effects on the
possessor should the faculty malfunction. If permitted, I would like to
interview any telepaths among the hospital staff or patients, or entities like
yourself who do not depend solely on aural channels of communication. This is a
private project and I am finding great difficulty obtaining information on the
subject."

"That is because the information available is sparse," Prilicla said, "and too
speculative as yet to be given to the clinical library. But please, friend
Lioren, rest your mind. The growing anxiety you are feeling indicates a fear
that news of your private project will be passed to others. I assure you that
this will not happen without your prior permission ... Ah, already you are
feeling better and, naturally, so am I. Now I will tell you what little is
known."

The seemingly endless rope of spaghetti disappeared, and the platter had been
consigned to the disposal slot when the Cin-russkin made a feather-light landing
on the table.
"Flying aids the digestion," it said. "Telepathy and empathy are two vastly
different faculties, friend Lioren, although it is sometimes possible for an
empath to appear telepathic when words and behavior and knowledge of the
background support the emotional radiation. Unlike telepathy, empathy is not a
rare faculty. Most intelligent beings possess it to a certain extent, otherwise
they could never have progressed to civilization. There are many who believe
that the telepathic faculty was present in all species, and that it became
dormant or atrophied when the more accurate verbal and visually reproducible
language evolved. Full telepathy is rare and telepathic contact between
different species is rare indeed. Have you had any previous experience of mind
contact?"

"Not that I was aware of," Lioren said. "If it had happened, friend Lioren," the
empath said, "you would have been aware of it."

Full telepathy was normally possible only between members of the same species,
Prilicla went on to explain. When a telepath tried to make contact with a
nontelepath, the stimulation of a faculty long dormant in the latter had been
described as an attempted exchange of signals between two mismatched organic
transmitter-receivers. Initially the subjective effects on the nontelepath were
far from pleasant.

At present there were three telepathic species in the hospital, all of whom were
patients. The Telfi life-forms were physiological classification VTXM, a group-
mind species whose small, beetlelike bodies lived by the direct conversion of
hard radiation. Although individually the beings were quite stupid, the gestalt
entities were highly intelligent. Investigating their ultra-hot metabolism
closely was to risk death by radiation poisoning.

Access to the remaining telepathic life-forms was restricted. They were the
Gogleskan healer Khone and its recent offspring and two Protectors of the
Unborn, all of whom were at Sector General for clinical and psychological
investigation by Diagnostician Conway, Chief Psychologist O'Mara, and Prilicla
itself.

"Conway has had successful contact as well as surgical experience with both of
these life-forms," the empath went on, "although it is still too recent and
radical to have found its way into the literature. Your colleague Cha Thrat has
also had extended contact with the Gogleskan, Khone, and helped deliver its
child. It would save time and effort if you simply talked to these entities, or
asked that the relevant clinical notes be made available to you ... I am sorry,
friend Lioren. From the intensity of your emotional radiation it is clear that
my suggestion was not helpful."

Prilicla was trembling as though its fragile body and pipestem limbs were being
shaken by a great wind that only it could feel. But it was an emotional gale
whose origin was Lioren himself, so he strove to control his feelings until the
empath's body was again at rest.

"It is I who should apologize for distressing you," Lioren said. "You are
correct. I have strong, personal reasons for not involving other members of my
department, at least until I know enough to speak without wasting their time.
But I would dearly like to read the Diagnostician's clinical notes and visit the
patients you mentioned."
"I can feel your curiosity, friend Lioren," Prilicla said, "but not, of course,
the reasons for it. My guess is that it has something to do with the Groalterri
patient."

It paused and once again its body trembled, but only for a moment. "Your control
of your emotional radiation is improving, friend Lioren, and I compliment and
thank you for it. But there is no cause for the fear in your mind. I know that
you are hiding something from me, but not being a telepath I do not know what it
is. I would not relay my suspicions to others in case I caused emotional
distress in you that would rebound on myself."

Lioren relaxed, feeling grateful and reassured, and knowing that with this
entity he did not have to vocalize his feelings. But the empath was still
speaking.

"It is common knowledge," Prilicla said, "that you are the only being within the
hospital who has talked freely with Hel-lishomar. Because my empathic faculty is
bound by the inverse square law, it increases in sensitivity with proximity to
the radiating mind. I have deliberately avoided approaching the Groal-terri
because Hellishomar is a deeply distressed and desperately unhappy entity, full
of guilt and grief and pain, and it has a mind so powerful that there is nowhere
within the hospital that I can escape completely from these terrible and
continuing feelings. However, since you began to visit Hellishomar there has
been a marked decrease in the intensity of this distressing emotional radiation
and for that, friend Lioren, I am truly grateful.

"When Hellishomar's name is mentioned," the empath went on before Lioren could
speak, "I detected from you an emotion that is closer to a strong hope than an
expectation. It was strongest when telepathy was mentioned. That is why you will
be allowed to visit the telepathic patients. Copies of the relevant clinical
files will be made available to you for study. If now is a convenient time, we
will begin by visiting the Protectors of the Unborn."

The Cinrusskin's six iridescent wings began to beat slowly and it rose
gracefully into the air above the table.

"You are radiating an intense feeling of gratitude," Prilicla went on as it flew
above Lioren toward the dining-hall entrance, "but it is not strong enough to
conceal an underlying anxiety and suspicion. What troubles you, friend Lioren?"

His first impulse was to deny that anything was troubling him, but that would
have been like two Kelgians trying to lie to each other—his deepest feelings
were as visible to Prilicla as a Kel-gian's mobile fur. "I am anxious because
these are Conway's patients, and if you are allowing me to visit them without
permission you might find yourself in trouble. My suspicions are that Conway has
already given its permission and for some reason you are not telling me why."

"Your anxiety is unfounded," Prilicla said, "and your sus- picions are accurate.
Conway was about to ask you to visit these patients. They are here for close
observation and investigation which, to them, is the clinical equivalent of a
prison sentence of unknown duration. They are cooperative but not happy and are
missing their home planets. We know of two patients, Mannen and Hellishomar, who
have benefited from talking to you and, with apologies for any hurt to your
feelings, friend Conway thought that visits from you would do no harm even if
they did no good.
"I don't know what it is that you say to them," the empath went on, "and
according to the grapevine you won't even tell O'Mara precisely how you achieve
your results. My own theory is that you use the reversal technique, so that
instead of the doctor extending sympathy to the patient the opposite occurs, and
proceed from there. I have used this technique myself on occasions. Being
fragile and emotionally hypersensitive myself, people are inclined to feel sorry
for me and allow me, as Con-way describes it, to get away with murder. But for
you, friend Lioren, they can really feel sorry because—"

For a moment Prilicla's hovering flight became less than stable as the terrible
memories of a depopulated planet came flooding back into his mind. Of course
they all felt sorry for him, but no less sorry than he felt for himself.
Desperately he fought to push those memories back to the safe place he had made
for them, where they could trouble only his sleep, and he must have succeeded
because the Cinrusskin was flying straight and level again.

"You have good control, friend Lioren," Prilicla said. "Your close-range
emotional radiation is uncomfortable to me but no longer as distressing as it
was during and after the court-martial. I am glad for both our sakes. On the way
there I will tell you about the first two patients."

The Protector of the Unborn belonged to physiological classification FSOJ, a
large, immensely strong life-form with a heavy, slitted carapace from which
protruded four thick tentacles, a heavy, serrated tail, and its head. The
tentacles terminated in a cluster of sharp, bony projections which made them
resemble spiked clubs. The main features of the head were the well-protected,
recessed eyes, the large upper and lower mandibles, and teeth which were capable
of deforming all but the strongest metal alloys.

They had evolved on a world of shallow seas and steaming jungle swamps where the
line of demarcation between animal and vegetable life, so far as physical
mobility and aggression were concerned, was unclear. To survive at all, a life-
form had to be immensely strong, highly mobile, and unsleeping, and the dominant
species on that planet had earned its place by fighting and moving faster and
reproducing its kind with a greater potential for survival than any of the
others.

The utter savagery of their environment had forced them to evolve a physical
form that gave maximum protection to the vital organs. Brain, heart, lungs, and
greatly enlarged womb, all were housed deep inside the organic fighting machine
that was the Protector's body. Their gestation period was abnormally extended
because the embryo had to grow virtually to maturity before parturition, and it
was rare for an adult to survive the reproduction of more than three offspring.
An aging parent was usually too weak to defend itself against attack by its
lastborn.

The principal reason for the Protectors' rise to dominance on their world was
that their young were already fully educated in the techniques of survival long
before they were born. In the dawn of their evolution the process had begun as a
complex set of survival characteristics at the genetic level, but the small
physical separation of the brains of the parent and its developing fetus had led
to an effect analogous to induction of the electrochemical activity associated
with thought. The result was that the embryos became short-range telepaths
receiving everything the parent saw or felt.

And before the fetus was half-grown there was taking form within it another
embryo that was also increasingly aware of the violent world outside its self-
fertilizing grandparent, until gradually the telepathic range increased until
communication became possible between embryos whose parents came close enough to
see each other.

To minimize damage to a parent's internal organs, the growing fetus was
paralyzed within the womb, and the prebirth de-paralysis also caused loss of
both sentience and the telepathic faculty. A newborn Protector would not survive
for long in its incredibly savage environment if it was hampered by the ability
to think.

With nothing to do but receive impressions from the outside world, exchange
thoughts with the other Unborn, and try to extend their telepathic range by
making contact with various forms of nonsentient life around them, the embryos
developed minds of great power and intelligence. But they could not build
anything, or engage in any form of technical research, or do anything at all
that would influence the activities of their parents and protectors, who had to
fight and kill and eat continually to maintain their unsleeping bodies and the
unborn within them.

"That was the situation," Prilicla went on, "before friend Conway was successful
in delivering an Unborn without loss of sentience. Now there are the original
Protector and its offspring, who is itself a young Protector, and the embryos
growing within both of them, all but the original parent in telepathic contact.
Their ward, which was built to reproduce the FSOJs' home environment, is the
next opening on the left. You may find the sight disturbing, friend Lioren, and
the noise is certainly horrendous."

The ward was more than half-filled by a hollow, endless cylinder of immensely
strong metal latticework. The diameter of the structure was just wide enough to
allow continuous, unrestricted movement in one direction to the FSOJ patients it
contained, and which curved and twisted back on itself so that the occupants
could use all of the available floor area that was not required for access by
the medical attendants or environmental support equipment. The cylinder floor
reproduced the uneven ground and natural obstacles like the mobile and voracious
trip-roots found on the Protectors' home planet, while the open sections gave
the occupants a continuous view of the screens positioned around the outer
surface of the cylinder. Onto the screens were projected moving, tri-d pictures
of the indigenous plant and animal life which they would normally encounter.

The open lattice structure also helped the medical attendants   to bring to bear
on the patients the more positive aspects of the life-support   system. Positioned
between the projected screen images were the mechanisms whose   sole purpose was
to beat, tear, or jab at the occupants' rapidly moving bodies   with any required
degree of frequency or force.

Everything possible was being done, Lioren noted, to make the Protectors feel at
home.

"Will they be able to hear us?" Lioren shouted above the din. "Or we them?"

"No, friend Lioren," the empath replied. "The screaming and grunting sounds they
are making do not carry intelligence, but are solely a means of frightening
natural enemies. Until the recent successful birthing the intelligent Unborn
remained within the nonsentient Protector and heard only the internal organic
sounds of the parent. Speech was impossible and unnecessary for them. The only
communication channel open to us is telepathy. ''
"I am not a telepath," Lioren said.

"Nor are Conway, Thornnastor, and the others who have been contacted by the
Unborn," Prilicla said. "The few known species with the telepathic faculty
evolved organic transmitter-receivers that are automatically in tune for that
particular race, and for this reason contact between members of different
telepathic species is not always possible. When mental contact occurs between
one of these entities and a nontelepath, it usually means that the faculty in
the latter is dormant or atrophied rather than nonexistent. When such contact
occurs the experience for the nontelepath can be very uncomfortable, but there
are no physical changes in the brain affected nor is there any lasting
psychological damage.

"Move closer to the exercise cage, friend Lioren," Prilicla went on. "Can you
feel the Protector touching your mind?"

"No," Lioren said.

"I feel your disappointment," the empath said. A faint tremor shook its body and
it went on, "But I also feel the young Protector generating the emotional
radiation characteristic of intense curiosity and concentrated effort. It is
trying very hard to contact you."

"I'm sorry, nothing," Lioren said.

Prilicla spoke briefly into its communicator, then said, "I have stepped up the
violence of the attack mechanisms. The patient will suffer no injury, but we
have found that the effect of increased activity and apparent danger on the
endocrine system aids the process of mentation. Try to make your mind
receptive."

"Still nothing," Lioren said, touching the side of his head with one hand,
"except for some mild discomfort in the inter-cranial area that is becoming very
..." The rest was an untranslatable sound which rivaled in volume the noise
coming from the Protectors' life-support system.

The sensation was like a deep, raging itch inside his brain combined with a
discordant, unheard noise that mounted steadily in intensity. This must be what
it is like, Lioren thought helplessly, when a faculty which is dormant is
awakened and forced to perform. As in the case of a muscle long unused, there
was pain and stiffness and protest against the change in the old, comfortable
order of things.

Suddenly the discomfort was gone, the unheard storm of sound in his mind faded
to become a deep, still pool of mental silence on which the external din of the
ward had no effect. Then out of the stillness there came words that were
unspoken from a being who did not have a name but whose mind and unique
personality were an identification that could never be mistaken for any other.

"You are feeling seriously disturbed, friend Lioren," Prilicla said. "Has the
Protector touched your mind?"

Rather, Lioren answered silently, // has almost swamped my mind. "Yes, contact
was established and quickly broken. I tried to help it by suggesting ... It
asked for another visit at a later time. Can we leave now?"
Prilicla led the way into the corridor without speaking, but Lioren did not need
an empathic faculty to be aware of the Cinrusskin's intense curiosity. "I did
not realize that so much knowledge could be exchanged in such a short time," he
said. "Words convey meaning in a trickle, thoughts in a great tidal wave, and
problems explained instantly and in the fullest detail. I will need time alone
to think about everything it has told me so that my answers will not be confused
and half-formed. It is impossible to lie to a telepath."

"Or an empath," Prilicla said. "Do you wish to delay your visit to the
Gogleskan?"

"No," Lioren replied. "My lonely thinking can wait until this evening. Will
Khone use telepathy on me?"

Prilicla had a moment of unstable flight for some reason, then recovered. "I
certainly hope not."

The empath explained that adult Gogleskans used a form of telepathy which
required close physical contact, but, except when their lives were threatened,
they did everything possible to avoid such contact. It was not simple xenophobia
that ailed them, but a pathological fear of the close approach of any large
creature, including nonfamily members of their own species. They possessed a
well-developed spoken and written language which had allowed the individual and
group cooperation necessary for growth of civilization, but their verbal
contacts were rare and conducted over the greatest practicable distance and in
the most impersonal terms. It was not surprising that their level of technology
had remained low.

The reason for their abnormally fearful behavior was a racial psychosis
implanted far back in their prehistoric past. It was a subject which Lioren was
strongly advised to approach with caution.

"Otherwise," Prilicla said as it checked its flight above the entrance to the
side ward reserved for the Gogleskans, "you risk distressing the patient and
endangering the trust that has gradually been built up between Khone and those
responsible for its treatment. I am unwilling to subject it to the emotional
strain of a visit from two strangers, so I shall leave you now. Healer Khone is
a frightened, timid, but intensely curious being. Try to converse impersonally
as I have suggested, friend Lioren, and think well before you speak."

A wall of heavy, transparent plastic stretching from floor to ceiling divided
the room into equal halves. Hatches for the introduction of food and remote
handling devices hung apparently unsupported like empty white picture frames.
The treatment half of the ward contained the usual tools of medical
investigation modified for use at a distance and three viewscreens. Only two of
them were visible to the adult Gogleskan, the third being a repeater for the
patient monitor in the main ward's nursing station. Not wishing to risk giving
offense by staring at Khone directly, Lioren concentrated his attention on the
picture on the repeater screen.

The Gogleskan healer, Lioren saw at once, was classification FOKT. Its erect,
ovoid body was covered by a mass of long, brightly colored hair and flexible
spikes, some of which were tipped by small, bulbous pads and grouped into
digital clusters so as to enable eating utensils, tools, or medical instruments
to be grasped and manipulated. He was able to identify the four long, pale
tendrils that were used during contact telepathy lying amid the multicolored
cranial hair. The head was encircled by a narrow metal band that supported a
corrective lens for one of the four, equally spaced and recessed eyes. Around
the lower body was a thick skirt of muscle on which the creature rested, and
whenever it changed position four stubby legs were ex- tended below the edge of
the muscular skirt. It was making untranslatable moaning sounds, which Lioren
thought might be wordless music, to its offspring, who was almost hairless but
otherwise a scaled-down copy of its parent. The sound seemed to be coming from a
number of small, vertical breathing orifices encircling its waist.

Beyond the transparent wall, the metal plating had been covered with a layer of
something that resembled dark, unpolished wood, and several pieces of low
furniture and shelves of the same material were placed around the inner three
walls. Clumps of aromatic vegetation decorated the room, and the lighting
reproduced the subdued orange glow of Gogleskan sunlight that had been filtered
through overhead branches. Khone's accommodation was as homelike as the
hospital's environment technicians could make it, but Khone was too timid to
complain about anything except a sudden and close approach of strangers.

A timid entity, Prilicla had described it, who was perpetually fearful and
intensely curious.

"Is it permitted," he asked in the prescribed impersonal manner, "for the
trainee Lioren to examine the medical notes of the patient and healer, Khone?
The purpose is the satisfaction of curiosity, not to conduct a medical
examination."

A personal name could be given only once, at the Time of First Meeting, Prilicla
had told him, for the purpose of identification and introduction, and never
mentioned again except during written communication. Khone's body hair stirred
restively and for a moment it stood out straight from the body, making the
little entity appear twice its real size and revealing the long, sharply pointed
stings that lay twitching close against the curvature of the lower torso. The
stings were the Gogles-kans' only natural weapon, but the poison they delivered
was instantly lethal to the metabolism of any warm-blooded oxygen-breather.

The moaning sound died away. "Relief is felt that clinical examination by
another fearsome but well-intentioned monster is not imminent," Khone said. "It
is permitted and, since access to the medical notes cannot be forbidden,
gratitude is felt for the polite wording of the request. May suggestions be
made?"

"They would be welcomed," Lioren said, thinking that the

Gogleskan's forthright manner was not what he had expected. Perhaps the timidity
was not evident during verbal exchanges.

"The entities who visit this ward are invariably polite," Khone said, "and
frequently politeness retards conversation. If the curiosity of the trainee is
specific rather than general, there would be an advantage if the patient rather
than the medical notes were consulted."

"Yes, indeed," Lioren said. "Thank you . . . That is, helpfulness has been shown
and gratitude is felt. The trainee's primary interest lies in the—"

"It is presumed," the Gogleskan went on, "that the trainee will answer as well
as ask questions. The patient is an experienced healer, by Gogleskan standards,
and knows that both parent and firstborn are healthy and are protected from
physical danger or disease. The firstborn is too young to feel anything other
than contentment, but the parent is prey to many different feelings, the
strongest of which is boredom. Does the trainee understand?"

"The trainee understands," Lioren replied, gesturing toward the inward-facing
display screens, "and will try to relieve the condition. There is interesting
visual material available on the worlds and peoples of the Federation—"

"Which shows monstrous creatures inhabiting crowded cities," Khone broke in. "Or
packed tightly together in close, nonsexual contact inside air or ground
vehicles, or similar terrifying sights. Terror is not the indicated cure for
boredom. If knowledge is to be obtained about the visually horrifying peoples
and practices of the Federation, it must be slowly and of one person at a time."

Even a Groalterri, Lioren thought, would not live long enough to do that. "As
the uninvited guest is it not proper for the trainee to give answers before
asking questions of the host?''

"Another unnecessary politeness," Khone replied, "but appreciation is felt
nonetheless. What is the trainee's first question?"

This was going to be much easier than he had expected, Lioren thought. "The
trainee desires information on Gogleskan telepathy, specifically on the organic
mechanisms which enable it to function and the physical causes, including both
the clinical and subjective symptomology present if the faculty should malfunc-
tion. This information might prove helpful with another patient whose species is
also tele—"

"No!" Khone said, so loudly that the young one began making agitated, whistling
sounds that did not translate. A large patch of the Gogleskan's body hair rose
stiffly outward and, in a manner that Lioren could not see clearly, wove the
strands into the shorter growth of its offspring and held it close to the
parent's body until the young one became quiet again.

"I'm very sorry," Lioren began, in his self-anger and disappointment forgetting
to be impersonal. He rephrased quickly. "Extreme sorrow is felt, and apologies
tendered. It was not the intention to cause offense. Would it be better if the
offensive trainee withdrew?"

"No," Khone said again, in a quieter voice. "Telepathy and Gogleskan prehistory
are most sensitive subjects. They have been discussed in the past with the
entities Conway, Prilicla, and O'Mara, all of whom are strange and visually
threatening but well-trusted beings. But the trainee is strange and frightening
and not known to the patient.

"The telepathic function is instinctive rather than under conscious control. It
is triggered by the presence of strangers, or anything else that the Gogleskan
subconscious mind considers a threat that, in a species so lacking in physical
strength, is practically everything. Can the trainee understand the Gogleskan's
problem, and be patient?"

"There is understanding—" Lioren began.

"Then the subject can be discussed," Khone broke in. "But only when enough is
known about the trainee for the patient to be able to close its eyes and see the
person enclosed in that visually horrendous shape, and so override the
instinctive panic reaction that would otherwise occur.''
"There is understanding," Lioren said again. "The trainee will be pleased to
answer the patient's questions."

The Gogleskan rose a few inches onto its short legs and moved to the side,
apparently to have a better view of Lioren's lower body, which had been hidden
by one of the display screens, before it spoke.

"The first question is," it said, "what is the trainee training to be?"

"A Healer of the Mind," Lioren replied.

"No surprise is felt," Khone said.


Chapter 19

THE questions were many and searching, but so polite and impersonal was the
interrogation that no offense could be taken. By the time it was over, the
Gogleskan healer knew almost as much about Lioren as he did himself. Even then
it was obvious that Khone wanted to know more.

The young one had been transferred to a tiny bed at the back of the compartment,
and Khone had overcome its timidity to the extent of moving forward until its
body touched the transparent dividing wall.

"The Tarlan trainee and onetime respected healer," it said, "has answered many
questions about itself and its past and present life. All of the information is
of great interest, although plainly much of it is distressing to the listener as
well as the speaker. Sympathy is felt regarding the terrible events on Crom-sag
and there is sorrow and helplessness that the Gogleskan healer is unable to give
relief in this matter.

"At the same time," Khone went on, "there is a feeling that the Tarlan, who has
spoken openly and in detail of many things normally kept secret from others, is
concealing information. Are there events in the past more terrible than those
already revealed, and why does the trainee not speak of them?"

"There is nothing," Lioren said, more loudly than he had intended, "more
terrible than Cromsag."

"The Gogleskan is relieved to hear it," Khone said. "Is it that the Tarlan is
afraid lest its words be passed on to others and cause embarrassment? It should
be informed that a healer on Goglesk does not speak of such matters to others
unless given permission to do so. The trainee should not feel concern."

Lioren was silent for a moment, thinking that his utter and impersonal
dedication to the healing art and the self-imposed discipline that had ruled his
past life had left him neither the time nor the inclination to form emotional
ties, It was only after the court-martial, when any thought of career
advancement was ridiculous and the continuation of his life was the cruelest of
all punishments, that he had become interested in people for reasons other than
their clinical condition. In spite of their strange shapes and even stranger
thought processes, he had begun to think of some of them as friends.

Perhaps this creature was another.
"A similar rule binds the healers of many worlds," he said, "but gratitude is
expressed nonetheless. The reason other information has been concealed is that
the beings concerned do not wish it to be revealed."

"There is understanding," Khone said, "and additional curiosity about the
trainee. Has the repeated telling reduced the emotional distress caused by the
Cromsag Incident?"

Lioren was silent for a moment; then he said, "It is impossible to be objective
in this matter. Many other matters occupy the trainee's mind so that the memory
returns with less frequency, but it still causes distress. Now the trainee is
wondering whether it is the Gogleskan or the Tarlan who is better trained in
other-species psychology.''

Khone gave a short, whistling sound which did not translate. "The trainee has
provided information that will enable a troubled mind to escape for a time from
its own troubles because this healer, too, has thoughts which it would prefer
not to think. Now the Tarlan visitor no longer seems strange or threatening,
even to the dark undermind that feels and reacts but does not think, and there
is an unpaid debt. Now the trainee's questions will be answered."

Lioren expressed impersonal thanks and once again sought information on the
functioning, and especially the symptoms of malfunctioning, of the Gogleskan
telepathic faculty. But to learn about their telepathy was to learn everything
about them.

The situation on the primitive world of Goglesk was the direct opposite of that
on Groalter. Federation policy had always been that full contact with a
technologically backward culture could be dangerous because, when the Monitor
Corps ships and contact specialists dropped out of their skies, they could never
be certain whether they were giving the natives evidence of a technological goal
at which to aim or a destructive inferiority complex. But the Gogleskans, in
spite of their backwardness in the physical sciences and the devastating racial
psychosis that forced them to remain so, were psychologically stable as
individuals, and their planet had not known war for many centuries.

The easiest course would have been for the Corps to withdraw and write the
Gogleskan problem off as insoluble. Instead they had compromised by setting up a
small base for the purposes of observation, long-range investigation, and
limited contact.

Progress for any intelligent species depended on increasing levels of
cooperation between individuals and family or tribal groups. On Goglesk,
however, any attempt at close cooperation brought a period of drastically
reduced intelligence, a mindless urge to destruction, and serious physical
injury in its wake, so that the Gogleskans had been forced into becoming a race
of individualists who had close physical contact only during the periods when
reproduction was possible or while caring for their young.

The situation had been forced on them in presapient times, when they had been
the principal food source of every predator infesting Goglesk's oceans. Although
physically puny, they had been able to evolve weapons of offense and defense—
stings that paralyzed or killed the smaller life-forms, and long, cranial
tendrils that gave them the faculty of telepathy by contact. When threatened by
large predators they linked bodies and minds together in the numbers required to
englobe and neutralize with their combined stings any attacker regardless of its
size.
There was fossil evidence that a bitter struggle for survival had been waged
between them and a gigantic and particularly ferocious species of ocean predator
for millions of years. The presapient Gogleskans had won in the end, but they
had paid a terrible price.

In order to englobe and sting to death one of those giant predators, physical
and telepathic linkages between hundreds of presapient FOKTs were required. A
great many of them had perished, been torn apart and eaten during every such
encounter, and the consequent and often repeated death agonies of the victims
had been shared telepathically by every member of the group. A natural mechanism
had evolved that had fractionally reduced this suffering, diluting the pain of
group telepathy by generating a mindless urge to destroy indiscriminately
everything within reach that was not an FOKT. But even though the Gogleskans had
become intelligent and civilized far beyond the level expected of a primitive
fishing and farming culture, the mental wounds inflicted during their prehistory
would not heal.

The high-pitched audible signal emitted by Gogleskans in distress that triggered
the joining process could not be ignored at either the conscious or unconscious
levels. That call to join represented only one thing, the threat of ultimate
danger. And even in present times, when the danger was insignificant or
imaginary, it made no difference. A joining led inevitably to the mindless
destruction of everything in their immediate vicinity-housing, vehicles, crops,
farm animals, mechanisms, book and art objects—that they had been able to build
or grow as individuals.

That was why the present-day Gogleskans would not allow, except in the
circumstances Khone had already mentioned, anyone to touch or come close to them
or even address them in anything but the most impersonal terms while they fought
helplessly and, until the recent visit of Diagnostician Conway to Goglesk,
hopelessly against the condition that evolution had imposed on them.

"It is Conway's intention to break the Gogleskan racial conditioning," Khone
went on, "by allowing the parent and offspring to experience gradually
increasing exposure to a variety of other life-forms who were intelligent,
civilized, and obviously not a threat. It was thought that the young one, in
particular, might become so accustomed to the process that its subconscious as
well as its conscious mind would be able to control the blind urge that
previously caused a panic reaction leading to a joining. Mechanisms have also
been devised by the hospital which distort the audible distress signal so that
it becomes unrecognizable. The triggering stimulus and subsequent urge to
mindless destruction would then be limited to the capabilities of one rather
than a large group of persons acting in concert. Another solution which has
doubtless already occurred to the trainee would be to excise the tendrils which
allow contact telepathy and make it impossible for a joining to occur. But that
solution is not possible because the tendrils are needed to give comfort and
later to educate the very young, as well as to intensify the pleasures of
mating, and the Gogleskans suffer privations enough without becoming voluntary
emotional cripples.

"It is Conway's expectation and our hope," Khone concluded, "that this two-
pronged attack on the problem will enable the Gogleskans to build with
permanence and advance to a level of civilization commensurate with their
intelligence."
Normally Lioren found it difficult to detect emotional overtones in translated
speech, but this time he felt sure that there was a deep uncertainty within the
other's mind that had not been verbalized.

"This trainee may be in error," Lioren said, "but it senses that the Gogleskan
healer patient is troubled. Is there dissatisfaction with the treatment it is
receiving? Are there doubts regarding the abilities or expectations of Conway—
?''

"No!" Khone broke in. "There was one brief and accidental sharing of minds with
the Diagnostician when it visited Gog-lesk. Its abilities and intentions are
known and are beyond criticism. But its mind was crowded with other minds full
of strange experiences and thoughts so alien that the Gogleskan wanted to call
for a joining. Much was learned from the mind of Conway and much more remains
incomprehensible, but it was plain that the proportion of the Diagnostician's
mind available for the Gog-lesk project was small. When doubts were first
expressed, the Diagnostician listened and its words were confident, reassuring,
and dismissive, and it may be that Conway does not fully understand the
nonmedical problem. It cannot or will not believe that, out of all the
intelligent races that make up the Federation, the Gogleskan species alone is
accursed and doomed forever to self-inflicted barbarism by the Authority which
Orders All Things."

Lioren was silent for a moment, wondering if he was about to become involved
once again in a problem that was philosophical rather than clinical, and unsure
of his right or ability as a Tarlan unbeliever to engage in a debate on other-
species theology. "If there was a telepathic touching," he said, "then the
Diagnostician must have seen and understood what is in the healer's mind, so
that the doubts may be groundless. But the trainee is completely ignorant in
this matter. If the healer wishes it, the trainee will listen to these doubts
and not be dismissive. A fear was mentioned that the situation on Goglesk would
never change. Can the reason for this fear be explained more fully?"

"Yes," Khone said in a quieter voice. "It is a fear that one entity cannot
change the course of evolution. It was evident from Conway's mind, and from the
thoughts and beliefs of those entities who shared that mind when the touching
occurred, that the situation on Goglesk is abnormal. On the other worlds of the
Federation there is a struggle between the destructive forces of environment and
instinctive, animal behavior on one side and the efforts of thinking and
cooperating beings on the other. By some entities it is called the continuing
battle to impose order upon chaos, and by many the struggle between good and
bad, or God against the Evil One. On all of these worlds it is the former, at
times with great difficulty, who is gaining ascendancy over the latter. But on
Goglesk there is no God; only the prehistoric but still all-powerful Devil rules
there ..."

The Gogleskan's erect, ovoid body was trembling, its hair was raised like clumps
of long, many-colored grass, and the four yellow spikes that were its stings
were beaded with venom at the tips. For it was seeing again the images that had
been indelibly printed into its racial memory, the terrible pictures complete
with their telepathically shared death agonies as the gigantic predators had
torn its joined forebears into bloody tatters. Lioren suspected that the signal
of ultimate distress, the Call for Joining, would have already gone out if Khone
had not controlled its instinctive terror with the reminder that the only other
Gogleskan capable of linking telepathically with it was its own sleeping
offspring.
Gradually Khone's trembling diminished, and when the erect hair and stings were
again lying flat against its body, it went on. "There is great fear and even
greater despair. The Gogleskan feels that the help of the Earth-human
Diagnostician, with goodwill and the resources of this great hospital at its
disposal, are not enough to alter the destiny of a world. It is a stupid self-
delusion on the part of this healer to think otherwise, and a gross act of
ingratitude to tell Conway of these feelings. Everywhere in the Federation there
is a balance between order and chaos, or good and evil, but it is inconceivable
that a Gogleskan and its child could alter the destiny, the habits and thinking
and feelings of an entire planetary population.''

Lioren made the sign of negation, then realized that the gesture would be
meaningless to Khone. "The healer is wrong. There are many precedents on many
different worlds where one person was able to do just that. Admittedly, the
person concerned was an entity with special qualities, a great teacher or
lawgiver or philosopher, and many of its followers believed that it was the
manifestation of their God. It is not certain that the healer and its child,
with Conway's assistance, will change the course of Gogleskan history, but it is
possible."

Khone made a short, wheezing sound which did not translate. "Such wildly
inaccurate and extravagant compliments have not been received since the prelude
to first mating. Surely the Tarlan is aware that the Gogleskan healer is neither
a teacher nor a leader nor a person with any special qualities. That which the
trainee suggests is ridiculous!"

"The trainee is aware," Lioren said, "that the healer is the only member of its
species to have faced its Devil, to have broken its racial conditioning to the
extent of coming to a place like Sector General, a place filled with monstrous
but well-intentioned beings the majority of whom are visually more terrifying
than the Dark One that haunts the Gogleskan racial memory. And the trainee
disagrees because it is self-evident that the healer possesses special
qualities.

"For it has demonstrated beyond doubt," Lioren went on before Khone could react,
"that it is possible for one Gogleskan who was continually in fear of the close
approach of its own kind to overcome and, with practice and great strength of
will, to understand and even befriend many of the creatures out of nightmare who
live here. This being so, is it not possible, even probable, that it will be
able to find and teach this quality to others of its kind, who will in time
spread its teachings throughout their world until gradually the Dark One loses
all power over the Gogleskan mind?''

"That is what Conway believes," Khone said. "But is it not also probable that
the followers will say that the teacher is damaged in the brain, and be fearful
of the great changes that they would have to make in their customs and habits of
mind? If it persisted in its attempts to make them think in new and
uncomfortable ways, they might drive the teacher from them and inflict serious
injury or worse."

"Regrettably," Lioren said, "there are precedents for such behavior, but if the
teaching is good it outlives the teacher. And the Gogleskans are a gentle race.
This teacher should feel neither fear nor despair.''

Khone made no response and Lioren went on. "It is a truism that in any place of
healing a patient will invariably find others in a more distressed condition
than itself, and derive some small comfort from the discovery. The same holds
true among the distressed worlds. The healer is also wrong, therefore, in
thinking that Goglesk is uniquely accursed by fate or whichever other agency it
feels is responsible.

"There are the Cromsaggar," Lioren went on, maintaining a quiet tone within the
sudden clamor of memories the word aroused, "whose curse was that they were
constantly ill and constantly at war because fighting each other was the only
cure for their disease. And there are the Protectors, who fight and hunt and
kill mindlessly for every moment of their adult lives, and who would make the
long-extinct Dark Ones of Goglesk seem tame by comparison. Yet within these
terrible organic killing machines live, all too briefly, the telepathic Unborn
whose minds are gentle and sensitive and in all respects civilized.
Diagnostician Thornnastor has solved the Cromsag problem, which was basically
one of endocrinology, so that the few surviving natives of that planet will no
longer be condemned to unending, reluctant warfare. Diagnostician Conway has
made itself responsible for freeing the Protectors of the Unborn from their
evolutionary trap, but everyone feels that it is the Gogleskan problem which
will be more easily solved—"

"These problems have already been discussed," Khone broke in, its whistling
speech increasing in pitch as it spoke. "The solutions, although complex,
involve medical or surgical conditions that are susceptible to physical
treatment. It is not so on Goglesk. There the problem is not susceptible to
physical solution. It is the most important part of the genetic inheritance that
enabled the species to survive since presapient times and cannot be destroyed.
The evil that drives the race to self-destruction and self-enforced solitude
was, is, and always will be. On Goglesk there has never been a God, only the
Devil."

"Again," Lioren said, "it is possible that the healer is incorrect. The trainee
hesitates lest offense is given through ignorance of Gogleskan religious beliefs
that may be held by the—"

"Impatience is felt," Khone said, "but offense will not be taken."

For a moment Lioren tried desperately to remember and organize the information
he had recently abstracted from the library computer. "It is widely taught and
believed throughout the Federation that where there is evil there is also good,
and that there cannot be a devil without God. This God is believed to be the
all-knowing, all-powerful but compassionate supreme being and maker of all
things, and is also held to be ever-present but invisible. If only the Devil is
evident on Goglesk it does not necessarily mean that God is not there because
all of the beliefs, regardless of species, are in agreement that the first place
to look for God is within one's self.

"The Gogleskans have been struggling against their Devil since they first
developed intelligence," Lioren went on. "Sometimes they have lost but more
often of late they have made small gains. It could be that there is one Devil
and many who unknowingly carry their God within them."

"These are like the words spoken by Conway," Khone said. "But the Diagnostician
encourages with advanced medical science and advises more rigorous training in
the mental disciplines. Is Goglesk's benefactor unable to believe in God or our
Devil or any other form of nonphysical presence?''

"Perhaps," Lioren said. "But regardless of its beliefs the quality of its
assistance remains unaltered.
Khone was silent for so long that Lioren wondered if the interview was over. He
had a strong feeling that the other wanted to speak, but when they eventually
came the words were a complete surprise.

"Additional reassurance might be felt," Khone said, "if the Tarlan spoke of its
own beliefs."

"The Tarlan," Lioren said carefully, "knows of many different beliefs held by
its own people as well as those on other worlds, but the knowledge is recently
acquired, incomplete, and probably inaccurate. It has also discovered in the
histories of the subject that such beliefs, if they are strongly held, are
matters of faith which are not susceptible to change through logical argument.
If the beliefs are very strongly held, the discussion of alternative beliefs can
give offense. The Tarlan does not wish to offend, and it does not have the right
to influence the beliefs of others in any fashion. For these reasons it would
prefer that the Gogleskan takes the lead by describing its own beliefs."

It had been obvious from the beginning that Khone was deeply troubled, even
though the precise nature of the problem had been unclear. This was not an area
where advice could be given in total ignorance.

' 'The Tarlan is being evasive,'' Khone said, "and cautious.''

"The Gogleskan," Lioren said, "is correct."

There was a short silence, then Khone said, "Very well. The Gogleskan is
frightened, and despairing, and angry about the Devil that lives within the
minds of its people and constantly tortures and binds them in chains of near-
barbarism. It is preferred that nothing be spoken of the nonmaterial supports
its people use to solace and encourage themselves because this Gogleskan, as a
healer, doubts the efficacy of nonmaterial medication. It asks again, what kind
of God does the Tarlan believe in?

"Is it a great, omniscient, and all-powerful creator," Khone went on before
Lioren could reply, "who allows or ignores pain and injustice? Is it a god who
heaps undeserved misfortune on a few species while blessing the majority with
peace and contentment? Does it have good or even godly reasons for permitting
such terrible events as the destruction of the Cromsaggar population, or for the
evolutionary trap which imprisons the Protectors of the Unborn and for the
dreadful scourge it has inflicted on the Gogleskans? Can there be any sin
committed in the past so grievous that it warrants such punishment? Does this
God have intelligence and ethical reasons for such apparently stupid and immoral
behavior, and will the Tarlan please explain them?''

The Tarlan has no explanations, thought Lioren, because he is an unbeliever like
yourself. But he knew instinctively that that was not the answer Khone wanted,
because if it was truly an unbeliever it would not be so angry with the God it
did not believe in. This was a time for soft answers.


Chapter 20

"As has already been stated," Lioren said quietly, "the Tarlan will give
information but will not try to influence the beliefs or disbeliefs of others.
The religions on the majority of the Federation planets, and the god worshiped
by their fol- lowers, have much in common. Their god is the omniscient,
omnipotent, and omnipresent Creator of All Things, as has already been stated,
and is in addition believed to be just, merciful, compassionate, deeply
concerned for the well-being of all of the intelligent entities it has created,
and forgiving of the wrongs committed by them. It is generally believed that
where there is God there is also the Devil, or some evil and less well defined
entity or influence which constantly seeks to undo God's work among its thinking
creatures by trying to make them behave in the instinctive manner of the
animals, which they know they are not. Within every thinking creature there is
this constant struggle between good and evil, right and wrong. Sometimes it
seems that the Devil, or the tendency to animal behavior that is in all thinking
beings, is winning and that God does not care. But even on Goglesk good has
begun to make gains, minor though they may be, over evil. Had this not been so
the Gog-leskan healer would not be here and undergoing instruction in the use of
the anti-joining sound distorters. Because it is also said that God helps even
those who do not believe in its existence—"

"And punishes those who do," Khone broke in. "The questions remain. How does the
Tarlan explain a compassionate God who allows such massive cruelty?''

Lioren did not have an answer, so he ignored the question. "It is often said
that belief in God is a matter of faith rather than physical proof, that it does
not depend on the level of intelligence possessed by the believer and that when
the quality of mentation is weak the faith is stronger and more certain. The
implication is that only the relatively stupid believe in the metaphysical or
the supernatural or a life after physical death, while the more intelligent
entities know better and believe only in themselves, the physical reality they
experience around them and their ability to change it for the better.

' 'The complexities of this external reality, from the galaxies that stretch out
to infinity and the equally complex microuni-verses of which it is made, are
given scientific explanations which are little more than intelligent guesses
that are subject to continual modification. Most unconvincing of all are the
explanations for the presence of creatures who have evolved in the area between
the macro- and microcosm, creatures who think and know, and know that they know,
and who try to understand the whole of which they are but the tiniest part while
striving to change it for the better. To the enlightened few among these
thinkers it is considered right to behave well toward each other and cooperate
individually and as peoples and other-planet species so that peace, contentment,
and scientific and philosophical achievement is attained for the greatest number
of beings. Any person or group or system of thinking which retards this process
is considered wrong. But to the majority of these thinkers good and evil are
abstractions, and God and the Devil but the superstitions of less intelligent
minds."

Lioren paused, trying to find the right words of certainty and reassurance about
a subject of which he felt very uncertain. "For the first time in its history,
the Galactic Federation has been contacted by a superintelligent,
philosophically advanced, but technologically backward race called the
Groalterri. The contact was indirect because this species believes that direct
mental contact would result in irreversible philosophical damage to those races
which hitherto considered themselves to be highly intelligent. One of their
young sustained injuries which they were unable to treat, and they requested the
hospital to accept it as a patient and gave reassurances that the young one was
not yet intelligent enough for contact with it to be psychologically damaging.
During conversations with it the Tarlan discovered, among other things, that it
and the hyperintelligent adult members of its race are not unbelievers."
Tufts of stiff, bristling fur were standing out from Khone's body, but the
Gogleskan did not speak.

' The Tarlan feels no certainty about this,'' Lioren said, ''and wishes only to
make an observation. It may be that all intelligent species pass through a stage
when they think that they know the answers to everything, only to progress
further to a truer realization of the depth of their ignorance. If the most
highly intelligent and philosophically advanced species yet discovered believes
in God and an afterlife then—"

"Enough!" Khone broke in sharply. "The existence of God is not the question. The
question, which the Tarlan is trying to avoid by providing other and more
interesting material for debate, remains the same. Why does this all-powerful,
just, and compassionate God act so cruelly and unjustly where some of its
creatures are concerned? To the Gogleskan the answer is important. Great
distress and uncertainty is felt."

But what exactly do you believe or disbelive, Lioren wondered helplessly, so
that I can try to relieve your distress? Because he did not believe in prayer he
wished desperately for inspiration, but all that he could find to talk about
were the recently learned beliefs of others.

"The Tarlan does not know or understand the purposes and behavior of God," he
said, "It is the creator of all things and must therefore possess a mind
infinitely superior and more complex than that possessed by any of its
creations. But certain facts are generally accepted about this being which may
assist in understanding behavior that, as the healer has noted, is very often at
variance with what is believed to be its intentions.

"For example: It is believed to be the omniscient creator of all things," Lioren
continued, "who has the deep concern of a parent for the welfare of each and
every one of its creations, although the more general belief is that this love
is reserved principally for its thinking creations. Yet all too often it appears
to behave as an angry, irrational, or uncaring parent than a loving one. It is
also widely believed that the creator works its purpose within all of its
thinking creatures, whether or not they believe in its existence.

"Another belief held by most species is that God created them in its own image
and that they will one day live forever in happiness with their creator in an
afterlife which has as many names as there are inhabited planets. This belief is
particularly troublesome to many thinkers for the reason that the variety of
physiological classifications among intelligent life-forms encountered within
the known Galaxy makes this a logical and physical impossibility—"

"The Tarlan is restating the question," Khone said suddenly, "not providing an
answer."

Lioren ignored the interruption. "But there are others who have come to share a
different belief and think that they know a different god. These beings are not
as intelligent as the Groal-terri, whose thoughts on this subject are and will
probably always remain unknown to us. They were unhappy with the idea that such
a complex but perfectly ordered structure as the universe around them is without
purpose and came into being by accident. It troubled them that there were
probably more stars in their sky than individual grains of sand on the beaches
surrounding Goglesk's island continent. It troubled them that the more they
discovered about the subatomic unreality that is the foundation of the real
world, the more hints there were of a vast and complex macrostructure at the
limits of resolution of their most sensitive telescopes. It also troubled them
that intelligent, self-aware creatures had come into being with a growing
curiosity and need to explain the universe they inhabit. They refused to believe
that such a vast, complex, and well-ordered structure could occur by accident,
which meant that it had to have had a creator. But they were a part of that
creation, the only part composed of self-aware entities, creatures who knew and
were aware that they knew, so they believed all intelligent life to be the most
important part of the creation so far as the creator was concerned.

"This was not a new idea," Lioren continued, "because many others believed in a
God who had made them and loves them and watches over them, and who would take
them to itself in the fullness of time. But they were troubled by the
uncharacteristic actions of this loving god, so they modified their idea of
God's purpose so that its behavior might be more easily explained.

"They believe that God created all things including themselves," Lioren said
slowly, "but that the work of creation is not yet complete."

Khone had become so still and silent that Lioren could not hear its normally
loud respiration. He went on. "The work is not complete, they say, because it
began with the creation of a universe that is still young and may never die.
Exactly how it began is unknown, but at present it contains many species who
have evolved to high intelligence who are spreading in peace among the stars.
But the rise from animal to thinking being, the process of continuing creation,
or evolution if one is an unbeliever, is not a pleasant process. It is long and
slow and often many necessary cruelties and injustices occur among those who are
part of it,

"They also believe," Lioren continued, "that the present differences in
physiology and environmental requirements are unimportant since evolution, or
creation, is leading toward increased sentience and a reduced dependence on
specialized appendages. The result, in the greatly distant future, will be that
thinking creatures will have evolved beyond their present need for the physical
bodies that house their minds. They will become immortal and join together to
achieve goals that cannot be envisaged by the near-animals of the present. They
will become Godlike and a true image, as they were and are promised, of the
being who created them. It is held that the spirits or souls of the mentally and
philosophically immature entities who have and will inhabit this universe for
many eons to come will also share in this future immortality and be one with
their God, because it is believed to be a philosophical absurdity that the
creator of all things would discard the most important, if presently incomplete,
parts of its own creation."

Lioren paused to await Khone's reaction; then another thought occurred to him.
"The Groalterri possess very high intelligence and they are believers, but will
not talk about their beliefs or anything else with those of lower intelligence
levels lest they damage immature minds. It may be that every intelligent species
must find its own way to God, and the Groalterri are further along the path than
the rest of us."

There was another long silence; then Khone asked very quietly, "Is this, then,
the God in which the Tarlan believes?"

From the other's tone Lioren knew that his answer should be "Yes," because he
felt sure now that the Gogleskan was a doubter who desperately wanted its doubts
dispelled, and that he should take advantage of the situation by quickly
reassuring the patient if he wished to obtain the telepathy information he
wanted. But an unbeliever telling a lie in the hope of making a doubter believe
was dishonorable and dishonest. It was his duty to give what reassurance he
could, but he would not lie.

Lioren thought for a long moment, and when he replied he was surprised to
discover that he meant every word.

"No," he said, "but there is uncertainty."

"Yes," Khone said, "there is always uncertainty."


Chapter 21

LIOREN'S answer had satisfied the Gogleskan, or perhaps had satisfactorily
reinforced its doubts, because Khone did not ask any more questions about God.

Instead, it said, "Earlier the Tarlan expressed curiosity regarding the organic
structures associated with the Gogleskan telepathic faculty and reasons why a
loss or a diminution of function takes place. As is already known by the Tarlan,
the solitary nature of the Gogleskan life-form precluded the development of
sophisticated surgical techniques, and only a very few healers could force
themselves to investigate internally a Gogleskan cadaver. The information
available is sparse and regret is felt for any disappointment caused. But a debt
is owed and it is now encumbent upon the Gogleskan to answer rather than ask
questions."

"There is gratitude," Lioren said.

Khone's fur twitched, rose and stood out in long, uneven tufts all over its
body—a clear indication of the mental effort required to discuss personal
matters. But the reaction, Lioren discovered quickly, was also intended as a
demonstration.

"Contact telepathy is used only on two occasions," Khone said, "in response to a
tribal Call for Joining when a real but more often an imaginary danger
threatens, or for the purpose of reproduction. As has already been explained,
the emotional trigger of the signal is highly sensitive. A minor injury, a
sudden surprise or change in normal conditions, or an unexpected meeting with a
stranger can cause it to operate unintentionally, whereupon a group forms by
intertwining the body fur and telepathic tendrils. This fear-maddened group
entity reacts to the real or imagined threat by destroying everything that is
not a Gogleskan in the immediate vicinity as well as causing self-inflicted
injuries to individual members. At such times the men- tal state makes it
impossible to be objective or qualitative about the functioning or
malfunctioning of the telepathic faculty, since the ability to make clinical
observations, or even to think coherently, is submerged in the panic reaction.

"Doubtless the Tarlan will know from experience that a similar but much more
pleasant emotional upheaval occurs between partners during the process of sexual
conjugation. But here the Gogleskan telepathic linkage insures that the
sensations of both are shared, and doubled. Small variations or diminution of
sensation, if present, would be difficult to detect or remember afterward."

"The Tarlan is without experience in this area," Lioren said. "Healers on Tarla
expecting advancement to high positions in the profession are required to forgo
such emotional distractions."
"There is deep sympathy," Khone said. It paused for a moment, then went on, "But
an attempt will be made to describe in detail the physical preliminaries and
telepathically reinforced emotional responses associated with the Gogleskan sex
act—"

It broke off because another person had entered the room. It was a DBDG female
wearing the insignia of a Charge Nurse and pushing a food-dispenser float before
it.

' 'Apologies are tendered for this interruption,'' the nurse said, "which has
been delayed for as long as possible in the expectation that this discussion
would soon be concluded. But the patient's principal meal is long overdue and
harsh words will be directed toward the medical entity charged with its care
should a convalescent patient be allowed to starve to death. If hunger is also
felt by the visitor and it wishes to remain with the patient, food can be
provided that is metabolically acceptable, although perhaps not entirely
palatable, to the Tarlan life-form."

"Kindness is shown," Lioren said, realizing for the first time how long Khone
and himself had been talking and how hungry he was, "and gratitude is felt."

"Then please defer further discussion until the food has been served," the
Charge Nurse said, making the soft, barking sound that its species called
laughter, "and spare my maidenly, Earth-human blushes."

As soon as the Charge Nurse left them, Khone reminded him that it had more than
one mouth and was therefore capable of eating and answering questions at the
same time. By then Lioren had reconsidered and decided that the Gogleskan's
information, interesting though it might be in itself, would not enlarge his
knowledge of possible dysfunction in the organic transmitter-receiver mechanism
of Groalterri telepathy. Apologetically and impersonally, he told the other that
the information was no longer required.

"Great relief is felt," Khone said, "and offense is not taken. But a debt
remains. Are there other questions whose answers might be helpful?"

Lioren stared at Khone for a long time, contrasting the tiny, upright, ovoid
body of an adult Gogleskan with that of Small Hellishomar the Cutter, who
completely filled a ward large enough to accommodate an ambulance ship, and
tried to frame another polite refusal. But suddenly he felt so angry and
disappointed and helpless that it required a great effort to make the proper,
impersonal words come.

"There are no more questions," he said.

"There should always be more questions," Khone said. The spikes of fur drooped
and the body slumped onto its apron of muscle so that Lioren could almost feel
its disappointment. "Is it that the ignorant Gogleskan lacks the intelligence to
answer them, and now the Tarlan wishes to leave without further waste of time?"

"No," Lioren said firmly. "Do not confuse intelligence with education. The
Tarlan requires specialist information that the Gogleskan has had no chance to
learn, so it is not intelligence that is lacking. To the contrary. Has the
healer more questions?''
"No," Khone said promptly. "The healer has an observation to make, but hesitates
lest it give offense."

"Offense will not be taken," Lioren said.

Khone rose to its full height again. "The Tarlan has demonstrated, as have many
entities before it, that a suffering shared is a suffering diminished, but in
this case it appears that the sharing is not equal. The Cromsag Incident, which
makes the problem with the Dark Devil of Goglesk seem insignificant by
comparison, has been described in detail, but its full effect upon the entity
responsible for it has not. Much has been said about the beliefs and Gods, or
perhaps the one God, of others, but nothing about its own God. Perhaps the God
of Tarla is special, or different, and does not possess the qualities of
understanding and justice with compassion where the most important parts of its
creation are concerned. Does it expect its creatures to do no wrong at all, even
by accident? The excuse given for the Tarlan's silence, that it does not wish to
influence unfairly the beliefs of another with its more extensive knowledge, is
laudable. But the excuse is weak indeed, for even an ignorant Gogleskan knows
that a belief, even one that is often weakened by self-doubt, is not susceptible
to change by logical argument. And yet the Tar-Ian speaks freely about the
beliefs of others while remaining silent about its own.

"It is assumed," Khone went on before Lioren could reply, "that the Tarlan is
deeply troubled by guilt over the Cromsaggar deaths, a guilt that is increased
because the punishment it considers due for this monstrous crime has been
unjustly withheld. Perhaps it seeks both punishment and forgiveness and believes
that both are being withheld."

It was obvious that Khone was trying to find a way of helping him, but so far
its lengthy observation had been neither offensive nor helpful, for the good
reason that Lioren was beyond help.

"If the Creator of All Things is unforgiving," Khone went on, "or if the Tarlan
does not believe in the existence of this Creator, there can be no forgiveness
there. Or if that small part of God, or if there is disbelief and a nonreligious
word is preferred, the good that struggles constantly with the evil in all
intelligent creatures, then the Tarlan will not be able to forgive itself. The
Cromsag Incident cannot be wholly forgotten or its psychological scars entirely
healed, but the wrong must be forgiven if the Tarlan's distress is to be
relieved.

"It is the Gogleskan's advice and strong recommendation," Khone ended, "that the
Tarlan should seek forgiveness from others."

Not only was Khone's observation lengthy and inoffensive, it was a complete
waste of time. Lioren had difficulty controlling his impatience as he said,
"From other, less morally demanding Gods? From whom, specifically?"

"Is it not obvious?" Khone said in a tone no less impatient than his own. "From
the beings who have been so grievously wronged—from the surviving Cromsaggar."

For a moment Lioren was so deeply shocked and insulted by the suggestion that he
could not speak. He had to remind himself that an insult required knowledge of
the target to give it force, and this one was based on complete ignorance.

"Impossible," he said. "Tarlans do not apologize. It is utterly demeaning, the
act of a misbehaving young child trying to reduce or turn away the displeasure
of a parent. The small wrongs of children can be forgiven by the wronged, but
Tarlans, adult Tarlans, fully accept the responsibility and the punishment for
any crime they have committed, and would never shame themselves or the person
they have wronged with an apology. Besides, the patients in the Cromsaggar ward
are cured and under observation rather than treatment. They would probably
become demented with hate and terminate my life on sight."

"Was not that the fate which the Tarlan desired?" Khone asked. "Has there been a
change of mind?"

"No," Lioren replied. "Accidental termination would resolve all problems. But
to, to apologize is unthinkable!"

Khone was silent for a moment; then it said, ' 'The Gogleskan is expected to
break its evolutionary conditioning and to think and behave in new ways. Perhaps
in its ignorance it considers that the effort needed to best the Dark Devil in
its mind is small compared with that required to apologize to another thinking
entity for a well-intentioned mistake."

You are trying to compare subjective devils, Lioren thought. Suddenly his mind
was filled with the sight and sound and touch of Cromsaggar waning or mating or
dying amid the filthy ruins of a culture they themselves had destroyed. He saw
them lying helpless in the aseptic beds of the medical stations and in tumbled,
lifeless heaps after the orgy of self-destruction that had come about as the
result of his premature cure. Remembrance of the sight and strength and close
touch of them came rushing into his mind like a bursting wave of sensation that
included the feeling of a wardful of them tearing him apart as they tried to
exact vengeance for the death of their race. He felt a strange satisfaction and
peace in the knowledge that his life would soon be over and his terrible guilt
discharged. And then came the images of probability, of the nurses on duty,
heavy-gravity Tral-thans or Hudlars, restraining them and rescuing him before
lethal damage could be inflicted; and he imagined the long, lonely convalescence
with nothing to occupy his mind but the dreadful, inescapable memories of what
he had done to the Cromsaggar.

Khone's suggestion was ridiculous. It was not the behavior expected of an
honorable Tarlan of a society in which few indeed lacked honor. To admit to a
mistake that was already obvious to all was unnecessary. To apologize for that
mistake in the hope of reducing the punishment due was shameful and cowardly and
the mark of a morally damaged mind. And to lay bare the inner thoughts and
emotions before others was unthinkable. It was not the Tarlan way.

Neither, as Khone had just reminded him, was it the Gogles-kan way to fight the
Dark Devil in their minds; or to make physical contact other than for the
purposes of reproduction or comforting the young, or to address another entity
who was not a mate, parent, or offspring in anything but the briefest and most
impersonal terms, but Khone was trying to do all those things.

Khone was changing its ways, gradually, as were the Protectors of the Unborn.
The changes both species had to make were extraordinarily difficult for them and
called for a mighty and continuing effort of will, but they were not in
themselves cowardly and morally reprehensible acts, as was the one that Khone
had suggested that Lioren commit. And suddenly he was thinking about
Hellishomar, whose condition was the reason for his present investigation into
other-species telepathy as well as the cause of his present mental turmoil.
The young Groalterri, too, was struggling with itself. Against all its natural
instincts, its training as a Cutter and the teachings of its near-immortal
Parents, it had changed and forced itself to do something reprehensible indeed.

Hellishomar had tried to kill itself.

"I need help," Lioren said.

"The need for help," Khone said, "is an admission of personal inadequacy. In an
entity with pride and authority it might be considered the first step toward an
apology. Regrettably, I am unable to give it. Do you know where or from whom
this help is available?''

"I know who to ask," Lioren replied, then stopped as the realization came to him
that during the last exchange Khone and he had omitted the Gogleskan impersonal
manner of address, and that they had spoken to each other as would close members
of a family. He did not know what this signified and did not want to risk asking
for clarification because Khone had misunderstood him.

From the other's words it was clear that Khone had assumed that the help he
wanted was with his own Cromsaggar problem, whereas the truth was that he badly
needed specialist assistance with Hellishomar's case. Initially the person he
must ask for it was O'Mara, then Conway, Thornnastor, Seldal, and whoever else
was qualified to give it. He admitted to himself that he was not qualified, and
that interviewing telepathic life-forms in an attempt to solve the problem by
himself had been a sop to his vanity as well as being an inexcusable waste of
time.

Asking help from others, which would of necessity reveal the lack of knowledge
and ability within himself, was not the Tarlan way. But he had been receiving
help from many entities in the hospital, often without asking for it, and he did
not expect that repeating the shameful process would cause any severe emotional
trauma.

As he was leaving Khone's ward a few minutes later, Lioren wondered if his own
habits of thought were beginning to change.

Very slightly, of course.


Chapter 22

SENIOR Physician Seldal was present because Hellishomar had been its
responsibility from the beginning and it had more clinical experience with the
patient than any of the others, although that situation was expected to change
very soon. The Tralthan Diagnostician-in-Charge of Pathology, Thornnastor, and
the equally eminent Earth-human Conway, who had been recently appointed
Diagnostician-in-Charge of Surgery, were there to discover why Chief
Psychologist O'Mara, who was the only entity with sufficient authority to call
such a high-level meeting at short notice, had thought it necessary to bring
them together to discuss a patient who was supposedly well on the way to a full
recovery.

It reminded Lioren of his recent court-martial, and even though the arguments
would be clinical rather than legal, he thought that when it came the cross-
examination would be much less polite. Seldal spoke first.
Indicating the big clinical viewscreen, it said, "As you can see, the Groalterri
patient presented with a very large number, close on three hundred, punctured
wounds that were equally divided over the dorsal and lateral areas and in the
anterior region between the tentacles, where the tegument is thin and affords
minimum natural protection. The punctures were apparently caused by a fast-
flying and burrowing insect species which laid eggs and introduced infection to
the wound sites. The Nallajim operational procedure was judged to be best suited
to the treatment of the condition, and I was assigned. Because of the patient's
unusually large body mass, progress has been slow, but the prognosis is good
except for an unfortunate lack of-"

"Doctor Seldal," Thornnastor broke in, its voice sounding like an impatient,
modulated foghorn. "Surely you asked the patient how its wounds were
sustained?''

"The patient did not give this information," Seldal said, the rapid, background
twittering of its natural voice reflecting its irritation at the interruption.
"I had been about to say that it rarely spoke to me, and never about itself or
its condition."

"The distribution of the punctures," Diagnostician Conway said, speaking for the
first time, "is too localized to suggest a random attack by an insect swarm. To
my mind, the angles of penetration and the concentration on one clearly defined
area indicates a common point of origin, as in an explosion, although I suppose
it is possible that Hellishomar disturbed a hive and the insects attacked the
parts of its body that were closest to them. From what little we know of the
Groalterri species, they have refused to speak to everyone, so the reticence of
the patient may be irritating but not unusual. In the past we have all treated
our share of uncooperative patients."

"Hellishomar was cooperative during treatment," Seldal said, "and when it spoke
it did so with politeness and respect, but without saying anything about itself.
I suspected that the clinical picture might have psychological implications, and
I asked Surgeon-Captain Lioren to speak to the patient in the hope that—"

"Surely this is a matter for the Chief Psychologist," Thornnastor said
impatiently. "What are a couple of busy Diagnosticians doing here?''

"I," O'Mara said in a quiet voice, "was not consulted."

Thornnastor's four eyes and Conway's two stared at O'Mara for a moment; then all
six were directed at Lioren. It was probably fortunate that he could not read
Tralthan or Earth-human expressions.

"In the hope," Seldal went on, "that Lioren would have a similar degree of
success in making a reticent patient talk as it had achieved with another of my
patients, the former-Diagnostician Mannen. At the time I was not sure whether
the matter was important enough to ask for the help of the Chief Psychologist.
Now Lioren believes that it is, and, after consultation with the Surgeon-
Captain, I am in total agreement."

Seldal settled back into its perch, and Lioren placed two of his medial limbs on
the table and tried to order his thoughts.

Thornnastor's six elephantine feet thumped restively against the floor in a
manner which could have indicated impatience or curiosity. Conway made an
untranslatable sound and said, "Surgeon-Captain, for the nonmedical improvement
you have brought about in Doctor Mannen, who was my tutor and is my friend, I am
most grateful. But how can we help you with what appears to be a psychiatric
problem?''

"Before I begin," Lioren said, "I would prefer that you do not use my former
title. You know that I am forbidden and have forsworn the practice of medicine,
and the reason for it. However, I cannot change the way my mind works, and my
past training leads me to the conclusion that Hellishomar's problem is not
entirely psychiatric. But first I must discuss briefly the patient's
evolutionary and philosophical background."

Thornnastor's feet remained at rest and there were no other interruptions while
Lioren described the strangely divided cultures of the telepathic Parents and
the more technologically oriented Small, and how strongly the latter were
affected by the teachings of the former and by the uncertainties of approaching
maturity. He told them how O'Mara had explained that the division was due to an
uncompleted stage of their evolution, that the Small were subintelligent by
Groalterri standards until they reached maturity, although the concern of the
Parents for their Small was very strong. The intelligent macrospecies inhabiting
Groalter were so physically massive and extremely long-lived that their numbers
had to be strictly controlled if their planet and their race was not to become
extinct. Orbital observations had shown that the total Groalterri population of
both Parents and Small numbered less than three thousand, so that the birthing
of a Small was an extremely rare event and the parental regard for the newborn
proportionately large.

Lioren was careful to speak in the most general terms, and he was particularly
careful to give only information that Hellish-omar had given him permission to
pass on, or material that he had been able to deduce for himself.

"Doubtless you will discover for yourselves that the information I am about to
give you regarding the patient is incomplete," Lioren went on. "This is a
deliberate omission on my part, and I have told the Chief Psychologist O'Mara
why he and yourselves must be kept in partial ignorance—"

"You told O'Mara that," Conway broke in, showing its teeth, "and you are still
alive?"

"Because Hellishomar is the first and only source of data on the Groalterri
culture," Lioren continued, deciding that it was not a serious question. "This
information is of great value to the Federation and the hospital, but I have
been told that a small proportion of it is not for general distribution. Were I
to break confidence with the patient there is a risk, virtually a certainty,
that the source of this valuable knowledge would dry up. My observations of the
patient's behavior and clinical condition, however, are as complete and accurate
as I can make them."

Lioren paused briefly so as to select words that would combine maximum
information with complete confidentiality. "Patient Hellishomar came here at the
unconscious direction, or suggestion or whatever means was used on the captain
of the orbiting vessel, of the Parents because they hoped that it could be
treated. They themselves are physically and temperamentally incapable of
inflicting pain or injury on another intelligent life-form, and the treatment
was not available on Groalter because the surgical procedures of the Small,
while precise enough, are too crude for the fine work of removing large numbers
of deeply embedded insects. Senior Physician Seldal has been performing this
work as only it can, but with the minimum of verbal contact with the patient. I
had nothing but verbal contact with Hellishomar and had many opportunities to
observe its behavior while we were speaking. These observations led me to the
conclusion, a conclusion with which Seldal and O'Mara now agree, that the
infected insect punctures were not the only reason for Hellishomar being sent
here.''

They were all watching him and so still were they that the whole office with its
living contents might have been a holograph.

"From our conversations together," Lioren went on, "it has become obvious that
Hellishomar has grown much too old and large to live and practice as a Cutter
among the Small, and that by now it should be undergoing the psychological as
well as the physical changes that precede full maturity. But the Parents have
not touched minds with it, as is customary at this time, or if they have tried
to do so it has not been aware of it because the patient is telepathically deaf,
and the possibility exists that Hellishomar is mentally retarded."

There was a short silence that was broken by Thornnastor. "Judging by the
evidence you have given us so far, Surgeon-Captain, I would say it is a strong
probability."

"Please do not use my former title," Lioren said.

The Earth-human, Conway, made a dismissive gesture with   one hand. "You still
retain the manner of a Surgeon-Captain if not the rank,   so the mistake is
excusable. But if you are convinced that Hellishomar is   mentally defective, that
is not the concern of Pathology or Surgery, so what are   Thornnastor and myself
doing here?''

"I am not fully convinced," Lioren replied, "that the condition is due to a
congenital defect. Rather, I favor the theory that there might be a structural
abnormality which has temporarily affected the proper development of the
patient's telepathic faculty without, however, impairing the other brain
functions. This theory is based on behavioral observations by myself as well as
those reported by Seldal, and on conversations with the patient which I will not
repeat in detail."

O'Mara made an untranslatable sound but did not speak. Lioren ignored the
interruption and went on. "Hellishomar is a Cutter, the Groalterri equivalent of
a surgeon, and, although the gross differences in its body mass and ours mean
that its work seems crude by our standards, it has displayed to me and to the
ward's vision recorders a high degree of muscular coordination and precision of
control. There was no evidence of the uncoordinated movements or the mental
confusion normally expected of a damaged or otherwise abnormal brain. Even
though it is only an immature member of a species whose adult minds are
immeasurably more advanced than our own, in conversation it displays a mind that
is flexible, lucid in its thinking, and well able to debate the finer points of
philosophy, theology, and ethics that have arisen between us. This is not, I
submit, the physical behavior or the quality of thinking expected of a
congenitally defective brain. I believe that the deficiency lies only with the
telepathic faculty and that there is a high probability that the abnormality
causing it is localized and may be operable."

The Chief Psychologist's office became a still picture once again. "Go on,"
Conway said.
"For the first time," Lioren resumed, "the Groalterri have contacted the
Federation so that we at Sector General might cure one of their ailing Small.
Perhaps they are hoping that Hellish-omar's cure will be complete. We should do
our best not to disappoint them."

"We should do our best," Conway said, "not to kill the patient. Do you realize
what you are asking?"

Thornnastor answered the question before Lioren could reply. "It will require
the investigation of a living and conscious brain about which we know nothing,
because there are no Small cadavers available for prior investigation. We will
be looking for structural abnormalities when we do not even know what is normal.
Microbiopsies and sensor implants will not give data of the precision required
for a cerebral procedure. Our deep scanners cannot be used because the level of
radiation needed to penetrate a cranial structure of that size would almost
certainly interfere with the locomotor muscle networks, and we cannot risk a
patient of Hellishomar's mass making involuntary muscle movements during an op.
To a greater or lesser degree, depending on the findings of the nonsurgical
investigation, we will be trusting to luck and instinct. Has the patient been
informed of the risks?"

"Not yet," Lioren replied. "As the result of a recent conversation with the
patient there was an emotional upset of some kind. Hellishomar broke off verbal
contact and physically evicted me from the ward, but I am hoping to resume
communication soon. I will inform it of the situation and try to obtain its
permission and cooperation during the operation."

"Thankfully," Conway said, showing its teeth again, "that is your problem." It
turned toward O'Mara. "Chief Psychologist, in matters pertaining to Patient
Hellishomar and until further notice I want Trainee Lioren placed under my
authority. I shall take overall surgical responsibility for this one, and move
it to the top of my operating schedule. Thornnastor, Seldal, and Lioren will
assist. And now, if there is nothing further to detain us-"

"With respect, Diagnostician Conway," Lioren said urgently, "I am forbidden to
practice—"

"So you have said," Conway broke in as it rose to its feet. "You will not be
required to cut, simply to observe and advise and give nonsurgical support to
the patient. You are the only one among us who may have sufficient knowledge of
the patient's mind and thought processes—and it is Hellishomar's mind that we
will be tinkering with—to keep it from ending up a worse mental cripple than you
say it already is.

"You will assist."

Lioren was still trying to think of a reply when the office had emptied except
for O'Mara and himself. The Chief Psychologist had risen to its feet, which was
a clear nonverbal signal that Lioren should also leave. He remained where he
was.

Hesitantly, he said, "If I had sought personal interviews with Diagnosticians
Conway and Thornnastor individually, the result would have been the same, but
much time would have been wasted because they are busy entities and appointments
with them are difficult to obtain for a trainee. I am grateful for your help in
expediting this matter, especially as you and they could not be given full
information about the patient. You remained silent so as not to embarrass me by
calling attention to my deliberate omission.

"But it is a new and more serious problem," Lioren went on, "which was my prime
reason for asking for your help. Again I may only discuss it in general terms—"

The Chief Psychologist seemed to be in respiratory distress for a moment, but it
recovered quickly and held up one hand for silence.

"Lioren," O'Mara asked in a very quiet voice, "do you think we are all mentally
defective?''


Chapter 23

LlOREN knew that an answer was not expected because the questioner was about to
provide its own.

"Thornnastor and Conway and Seldal are not stupid," O'Mara continued. "My latest
records show that their three minds are currently in possession of a total of
seventeen Educator tapes, and the donor entities who made those recordings were
not stupid, and I, making due allowance for the subjective nature of the
assessment, would place my own level of intelligence as well above average."

Lioren was about to agree, but O'Mara gestured for silence.

"Seldal's description of the clinical picture," the Chief Psychologist went on,
"together with the knowledge you have already obtained regarding the Groalterri
society as a whole, and your new information that the patient is by its race's
standards a mental defective, indicates a very high probability that Hellish-
omar's injuries were the result of a failed suicide attempt. Thornnastor,
Conway, Seldal, and myself know this, but we would certainly not embarrass the
patient or risk worsening its emotional distress by telling it that we knew or
by making the knowledge public. If the circumstances are as you describe, the
patient had every reason to destroy itself.

"But now," O'Mara said, raising its voice slightly as if to emphasize the point,
"we have to give it an even stronger reason to live whether or not the cranial
surgery is successful. You and, if the situation was normal and you were not
such a pig-headed, self-righteous trainee, I as your superior should be trying
to discover such a reason. You are the sole channel of communication to the
patient, and it is better that no other person, myself included, tries to usurp
that position. But must I remind you that I am the Chief Psychologist of this
weird and wonderful establishment, that I have much experience in prying into
the minds of its even weirder staff, and that it is my right and your duty to
keep me fully informed so that you can make full use of my experience while
talking to this Groalterri. I shall be disappointed and seriously irritated with
you if you pretend that the patient did not attempt suicide.

"And now," he ended, "what exactly is this new and more serious problem with
Hellishomar?''

For a moment Lioren sat in the quiet desperation of hope, afraid to answer the
question in case there was no hope—or worse, that he would have to find the
answer for himself. The Chief Psychologist's face had grown pink with irritation
at the delay when he spoke.
"The problem," Lioren said, "is with me. I have to make a difficult decision."

O'Mara sat back into its chair, features no longer discolored. "Go on. Is it
difficult for you because it may involve breaking the patient's confidence?"

"No!" Lioren said sharply. "I told you this is my problem. Maybe I should not
ask your advice and risk making it yours."

The Chief Psychologist showed no sign of irritation at Lior-en's insubordinate
tone as it said, "And maybe I should not allow you any further contact with
Hellishomar, once we have its permission for the operation. Placing together two
beings who are so guilt-ridden that both would like nothing better than to end
their own lives is a greater risk, to my mind, because the chances are even that
the results could be beneficial or disastrous. So far you have managed to avoid
a disaster. Please begin by telling me why you think that it is not my problem,
and allow me to assess the risks."

"But that would require a long explanation of the problem itself," Lioren
protested. "I would also have to include background information, much of which
is speculative and probably inaccurate."

O'Mara raised one hand from the desk and allowed it to fall again. "Take your
time," it said.

Lioren began by describing again the strange, age-segregated Groalterri culture,
but he did not take much time because in the beginning he was repeating
information that was already known, and O'Mara was not an Earth-human noted for
its patience. He said that by virtue of their great size and unguessable
abilities, the Parents controlled their population nondestructively and
maintained their planet, its nonintelligent animal and vegetable and mineral
resources in optimum condition, because they were an extremely long-lived
species and this was the only world that they would ever have. On Groalter all
life was of value and intelligent life was precious indeed. The control
mechanisms, the laws that were to govern every day of a Groalterri's incredibly
long life, were taught by the Parents to the pre-adults, who passed them on to
the younger Small down to the age when they first began to think and speak.
These laws, which governed all future behavior on Groalter, were not physically
enforced because the evidence pointed to this being a philosophically advanced
and nonviolent race. The Small were taught, verbally when they were very young
and telepathically as they approached adulthood, so thoroughly that the process
more closely resembled deep conditioning. The guilt felt by a lawbreaker, and
the punishment that it inflicted on itself, was of a degree of severity possible
only to the recipient of the strictest and most comprehensive form of religious
indoctrination.

"Which is a theory supported by the fact," Lioren continued, "that Hellishomar
has made several references to committing not a serious crime or an offense but
a grievous sin. To the Groalterri the most grievous of all sins is the
deliberate and premature destruction of a life. It matters not whether the sin
is of commission or omission, or if the life concerned was close to its
beginning or near its end. And if the Small and their Parents are deeply
religious, that faced me with other questions.

"What kind of god would a life-form that is well-nigh immortal believe in? And
what is their hope or expectation of an afterlife?"
"My own hope," O'Mara said, lowering the lines of fur above its eyes, "is that
you will eventually get to the point. This could become an interesting religious
debate if I could allow myself the time for it, but so far I do not see a
problem where you are concerned."

"But there is a problem," Lioren said, "and their religious beliefs are very
much involved. And so, to my shame, am I."

"Explain," O'Mara said, "and try to take less time about it."

"In all of the religions that I have recently been studying, I found that their
adherents have many beliefs in common. Apart from a few who are fractionally
more long- or short-lived than us, all enjoy what we consider to be an average
life span ..."

In precivilized times, when many religions were originating and beginning to
shape the thinking of their adherents toward a respect for the person and
property of others that formed the basis of civilized behavior, the hopes and
needs of these people were simple. Apart from a few individuals who had seized
power, the lives of these beings were unhappy, filled with unremitting toil,
plagued by hunger and disease, or under the constant threat of violent and
premature death, and their life expectancy was far below the present average.

It was natural that they should hope and dream and finally believe in teachings
which gave the promise of another life, a Heaven, in which they would not toil
or hunger or feel pain or suffer separation from their friends, and where they
would live forever.

"In contrast," Lioren went on, "the Groalterri already possess virtual
immortality, so their lives are already long enough for a further physical
extension not to be high on their list of priorities. Because of their vast size
and lack of mobility, they telepathically control or otherwise cause their food
supply to come to them, so they do not have to toil. They are too large to
suffer injury, and disease and pain are unknown among them until they are
approaching termination, when they call on the Small Cutters to help them
further extend their lives before what Hellishomar calls the Escape or the Time
of Going Out.

"At first, I assumed this to be the case of a long-lived entity wanting to live
even longer in spite of the increasing pain suffered during the terminal
decades, but this would be the type of behavior expected of small-minded,
selfish entities, which the Parents were not. It came to me that their terminal
years, which the Small are sworn to extend for as long as possible, are needed
so that they would have the maximum time possible in which to prepare their
minds and make themselves worthy of what they expect to find in the afterlife.

"To the tremendous minds and gigantic bodies of the Groalterri," Lioren said,
"it may be that Heaven is the place and condition where they can seek and
ultimately discover the secrets of all creation, and while doing so, the
condition they most desire is mobility. They need it so that they can escape
from the great, organic prisons that are their bodies, and from their planet,
and Go Out. Perhaps they long to travel freely through a universe that is
infinitely large and provides their great minds with an intellectual challenge
that is also infinite."
O'Mara raised one hand from the desk, but the interruption seemed to be polite
rather than impatient. It said, "An ingenious theory, Lioren, and, I think, very
close to the truth. But I still do not see where you have a problem."

"The problem," Lioren said, "lies in the intention of the Parents in sending
Hellishomar to us, and my subsequent behavior toward the patient. Did they
influence us into bringing it to Sector General in the hope that we might effect
a complete cure for their Small Cutter, as would any parents deeply concerned
for the welfare of one of their young? Or do they believe that we might not be
able to treat the infected wounds that were then threatening its life, much less
recognize the patient as a mental defective? Are they hoping that the treatment
it receives here, and the people it meets during that treatment, will give a
mind that is incapable of further intellectual and spiritual progression an
experience that it will find strange and stimulating and enjoyable before it
passes into the substandard Heaven or Limbo that is reserved for the few
mentally flawed Groalterri?

"Hellishomar is telepathically deaf and dumb," Lioren continued, "so the Parents
cannot tell it what their intentions are, or that they have forgiven it for the
sin it tried to commit, or that they feel compassion for its distress and are
simply doing their best to relieve the suffering of a mental cripple by giving
it the memories of what, to a living Groalterri, is a unique experience of
leaving its planet. But I believe that the patient is more intelligent, and much
stricter in its religious self-discipline, than the Parents realize.

"Hellishomar is trying to refuse their gift.

"When it was brought here," he went on quickly, "Hellishomar offered no
resistance and obeyed only the simple requests of Seldal and the nurses during
initial examination and treatment. It would not ask or answer questions about
itself, and for long periods it kept its eyes closed. Only when I told the
patient about myself and it discovered that I, too, had committed a grievous sin
and was still suffering from guilt and distress over it, did Hellishomar begin
to talk freely about itself. Even then it made me promise not to pass on certain
personal information, and it showed great agitation when I tried to talk about
the member species and planets of the Federation. When I offered to show
supporting visual material it became very agitated and distressed.

"I insist," Lioren said, "or rather I suggest most strongly that its contacts
with other species be kept to a minimum, and that information on all subjects
other than its forthcoming treatment be withheld, if necessary by switching off
the translator and covering its eyes if life-forms new to its present experience
are operating—"

"Why?" O'Mara asked sharply.

"Because Hellishomar is a sinner," Lioren replied, "and believes itself unworthy
of being given even this tiny glimpse of Heaven. To the highly intelligent and
questing minds trapped within the physically massive Groalterri body, Going Out,
escaping at death from the imprisonment of their planet, is Heaven. Sector
General and all the varied life-forms it contains is a part of that much
deserved afterlife."

O'Mara showed its teeth. "This place has been called many things, but never
Heaven. I can see that Hellishomar faces a theological problem which we must try
to help it resolve, but I still cannot see that you have a problem. What exactly
is troubling you?''
"Uncertainty, and fear," Lioren replied. "I don't know what the Parents'
intentions were when they touched the mind of the orbiting ship's captain. That
touching must have revealed much about the Federation, but they seem to have
ignored the religious implications because they caused Hellishomar to be brought
here. Perhaps their adult theology is more sophisticated and liberal than the
form they have to teach to the less able minds of the Small, or they simply did
not realize what they were doing. Maybe, as I have already said, they believed
that Hellishomar was about to die of its self-inflicted injuries and they wanted
to give it this small experience of Heaven because they were unsure of the fate
of a mental cripple in their afterlife and they are a compassionate race. Or
perhaps they are expecting us to cure the patient of all its defects and return
Hellishomar to take its place among the Parents. But what will happen if we cure
only its physical injuries?

"It is the answer to that question which frightens me," Lioren ended, "and that
is the problem that so terrifies me that I am afraid to solve it without help."

"Terrifies you, how?" O'Mara asked, in the quiet, absent-minded manner of a
questioner who is already working out the answer for itself.

"There are precedents on many worlds," Lioren replied, "for prophets and
teachers coming out of the wilderness to spread beliefs which attack the old
order. On Groalter there is no violence, and no way of silencing a religious
heretic who is deaf to the words of its elders. The mental cripple, Hellishomar,
might be so filled with its new knowledge that it could not subject itself to
the voluntary seclusion expected of it. Instead it might bring to the immature
minds of the younger Small the knowledge that Heaven contains great machines for
traveling between the stars, as well as other technological wonders, and that it
is peopled with a great variety of short-lived creatures who are in many cases
less intelligent and certainly less moral in their behavior than the Groalterri.
As a result the Small might try using their limited technology and planetary
resources to build machines so that a few of them could Go Out before reaching
Parenthood, much less waiting until the end of their lives, and the many who
could not go would cause disaffection and desta-bilization among the Small.
Worse, they might take Hellisho-mar's teachings with them into adulthood, and
the delicate physical and philosophical balance that has maintained the
Groalterri planet and culture for many thousands of years would be destroyed.

"I have already destroyed the Cromsaggar," Lioren ended miserably, "and I fear
that I am bringing about an even greater philosophical destruction in the minds
of the most advanced culture to be discovered since the Federation came into
being."

O'Mara placed its hands together and looked down at them for a moment before it
spoke. There was a heavy emphasis on the first word as it said, "We do indeed
have a problem, Lioren. The simple answer would be to lose the patient, allow
Hellishomar to terminate here, for the greater good of its people, naturally.
But that is a solution which we would find ethically unsound, a relic of our
presapient past. Our rejection of it would have the agreement of the entire
hospital staff, the Monitor Corps, the Federation, and the Groalterri Parents.
We must therefore do the best that we possibly can do for the patient, in the
hope that the Parents also knew what they were doing when they sent it to us.
Agreed?"

Without waiting for a reply, the Chief Psychologist went on. "The suggestion
that you should be the only contact with the patient is a valid one. Hellishomar
will be isolated from all other visual and verbal contact during surgery, and I
shall certainly not contact it. At least, not directly.

"You have been doing very well," O'Mara continued. "But you lack my professional
experience or, as Cha Thrat insists on describing it, my knowledge of the
subtler spells. You do not know everything, Lioren, even though you often act as
if you do. For example, there are several well-tried methods of reestablishing
communication and friendly relations with an other-species patient who has
broken off contact for emotional reasons—"

O'Mara stopped and, with its eyes still directed toward Lioren, one hand moved
to the desk communicator. "Braith-waite, reschedule today's appointments for
this evening or tomorrow. Be diplomatic; Edanelt, Cresk-Sar, and Nestrommli are
Seniors, after all. For the next three hours I am not here.

"And now, Lioren," it went on, "you will listen and I shall talk . . ."


Chapter 24

THE modifications to the ward structure necessary for the performance of this
operation will be completed within the hour," Diagnostician Conway said, loudly
enough to be heard above the din of shouting voices and the metallic clangor of
massive equipment being moved into position and given its final operational
checks, "and the surgical team is already standing by. But any cranial
investigation involving a newly discovered intelligent species, especially of a
macro life-form like yourself, must of necessity be exploratory and with a high
element of risk. For anatomical and clinical reasons, the sheer body mass
combined with our present ignorance regarding the metabolism involved makes any
estimate of the quantity of medication required sheer guesswork, so that the
procedure will have to be carried out without benefit of anesthetic.

"Such a procedure is completely contrary to normal practice," Conway went on, in
a voice which was less than steady, "so that it is the psychological rather than
the clinical preparations which Chief Psychologist O'Mara and I must satisfy
ourselves are complete."

Hellishomar did not speak. It was probable, thought Lioren, that the Groalterri
knew nothing of the tiresome Earth-human habit of asking questions in the form
of statements.

Conway looked quickly at the large openings that had been cut in the deck,
walls, and ceiling all around them, and at the heavily braced structural
supports for the tractor- and pressor-beam installations projecting from them
before going on. "It is imperative that you do not move during the procedure,
and you have told us several times that you will remain still. But, with
respect, that is too much to expect from a fully-conscious patient when the
degree of pain being inflicted is unknown, and there is a risk of our
instruments stimulating the locomotor network and causing involuntary body
movements. Total restraint and immobility will therefore be imposed by use of
wide-focus tractor and pressor beams even though we may not, as you have assured
us, require them."

Hellishomar remained silent for a moment; then it said, "Surgery under
anesthesia is not practiced by Groalterri Cutters, so I would not consider your
procedure abnormal or the discomfort associated with the entry wound of major
importance. As well, you will remember that Seldal, Lioren, and yourself have
assured me that, in the majority of life-forms of your clinical experience, deep
cranial surgery can be undertaken without discomfort since the protection
afforded by the thickness of the cranium obviates the necessity for pain sensors
within the brain itself.''

"That is true," Conway said. "But the Groalterri life-form is like no other in
the hospital's experience, so it is not a certainty.

"Another and more important reason for the absence of anesthesia," the
Diagnostician continued before Hellishomar could reply, "is that we will be
forced to call on you from time to time for a report on the subjective effects
of our surgery while the operation is in progress. The high intensity of scanner
radiation required to penetrate and chart the cranial contents, although
harmless in itself, would almost certainly affect the local nerve networks and
cause—"

"All this has been explained to me," Hellishomar said suddenly, "by Lioren."

"And it is being explained again by me," Conway said, "because I am performing
the operation and must be absolutely sure that the patient is fully aware of the
risks. Are you?"

"I am," Hellishomar said.

"Very well," Conway said. "Is there anything else you would like to know about
the procedure? Or anything that you would like to do or say, up to and including
changing your mind and canceling the operation entirely? This can still be done
without any loss of self-respect. In fact I, personally, would consider it to be
an intelligent decision."

"I have two requests," Hellishomar said promptly. "Shortly I will be
experiencing the first cranial surgery to be performed on a member of my
species. As a Cutter as well as the patient I am deeply interested in the
procedure and would appreciate a translated description of, and the reasons for,
your actions while the operation is in progress. During the operation I might
need to talk with the entity Lioren on another channel, but privately. If this
conversation becomes necessary, no other entity in the hospital is to overhear
our words. That is my second and more important requirement."

Both the Diagnostician and the Chief Psychologist turned to look at Lioren. He
had already warned them that Hellishoraar would make such a request and that it
would not accept a negative answer.

Reassuringly, Conway said, "My intention is to talk through the procedure and
record it in sound and vision for staff-training purposes, so there is no reason
why you should not overhear the original. We can also arrange for a second
communications channel, but you will not be able to operate it yourself because
your manipulatory appendages are too massive for the control mechanism. I
suggest that both channels be controlled by Lioren, and any private words you
have for Lioren be prefixed by its name so that all others can be switched out
of the conversation. Would that be satisfactory?"

Hellishomar did not reply.

"We understand that privacy at such times is of great importance to you," O'Mara
said suddenly, staring at one of the patient's enormous, closed eyes. "As Chief
Psychologist of this establishment I possess the authority of a Parent. I can
assure you, Hellishomar, that your second communication channel will be private
and secure."

The Chief Psychologist's curiosity regarding the words that had and would pass
between Hellishomar and Lioren was personal, professional, and intense. But if
there was disappointment in O'Mara's voice, it was lost in translation.

"Then I would like you to proceed with minimum delay," Hellishomar said, "lest I
take Diagnostician Conway's good advice and change my mind."

"Doctor Prilicla?" Conway said quietly.

"Friend Hellishomar's emotional radiation fully supports its decision to
proceed," the empath said, joining the conversation for the first time. "The
feeling of impatience is natural in the circumstances, and the expression of
self-doubt may be considered as an oblique verbal pleasantry rather than
indecision. The patient is ready.''

A great wave of relief, so intense that he could see Prilicla shaking with it as
well, burst over Lioren's mind. But the em-path's trembling was slow and
regular, like the movements of a stately dance, and indicated the presence of
emotional radiation that was pleasant rather than painful. Even with O'Mara
advising him at every stage, it had taken five days and nearly as many nights of
argument, closely reasoned at times but at others purely emotional, to obtain
Hellishomar's agreement to the operation. It was only now that he knew they had
succeeded.

"Very well," Conway said. "If the team is ready we will go in. Doctor Seldal,
I'd be obliged if you would open."

The instruments required for the macroprocedure, the drills and cutters and
suction tubes so massive that some of them had to be individually manned, hung
in position all around them. The preparations, Lioren had thought, more closely
resembled those for a mining operation than a surgical procedure. But the
Diagnostician's words were another example of an oblique verbal pleasantry,
because the operating team was ready and waiting, and Seldal had already been
thoroughly briefed on its part at every stage of the operation.

Politeness was a lubricant, Lioren thought, that reduced friction but wasted
time.

Even though Hellishomar was a member of a macrospecies with a head that was
large in proportion to its enormous body, the sheer size of the operative field
came as a shock to Lioren. The area of the flap of tegument that was excised and
drawn back to reveal the underlying bone structure was larger than any of the
decorative rugs scattered around his living quarters.

"Doctor Seldal is controlling the subdermal bleeding by clamping off the incised
capilliaries," Conway was saying, "which in this patient more closely resemble
major blood vessels, while I drill vertically through the cranium to the upper
surface of the meningeal layer. The drill is tipped with a vision sensor linked
to the main monitor, which will show us when it reaches the surface of the
membrane . . . We're there.

"The drill has been withdrawn and replaced by a high-speed saw of identical
length," the Diagnostician continued a few minutes later. "This is being used to
extend the original borehole laterally until a circular opening has been made in
the cranium of sufficient diameter so that, when the resulting plug of osseous
material is removed, the surgeons will be able to enter the wound and work
freely. That's it. The plug is being removed now and will be kept under moderate
refrigeration pending its replacement. How is the patient?"

"Friend Hellishomar's emotional radiation," Prilicla said quickly, "suggests
feelings of mild discomfort, or more severe discomfort that is under firm
control. Feelings of uncertainty and anxiety normal to the situation are also
present."

"A reply from me," Hellishomar said, opening the eye nearest to the display
screen, "seems unnecessary."

"For the moment, yes," Conway said. "But later I will need the kind of help
which only you will be able to give. Try not to worry, Hellishomar, you are
doing fine. Seldal, climb aboard."

Lioren wished suddenly that he could find something reassuring to say to the
patient, because he, having convinced O'Mara and Conway and finally Hellishomar
itself of the necessity for the operation, bore the responsibility for what was
to happen here. But he could not excuse breaking into the operating team's
conversation without invitation, and the private communication channel was
closed to him until or unless Hellishomar spoke his name, so he remained silent
and watchful.

Looking like a pink-flecked, shaven log of a large tree, the bony plug was
lifted clear while Seldal, its three spindly legs strapped together so as to
minimize bodily projections, was being lifted into Conway's backpack so that
only its long, flexible neck, head, and beak were uncovered. A similar pack
containing the instruments and inflatable equipment that both surgeons would use
was strapped tightly to Conway's chest and abdomen. The Diagnostician's legs
were not strapped together, but the sharp contours of its feet were encased in
thick padding, and a white, frictionless overgarment was drawn over the limbs
and fastened at the shoulders so that only the arms and head were uncovered. A
transparent helmet that was free of external projections and large enough to
accommodate the necessary lighting and communications equipment was added.
Seldal, whose upper body was naturally streamlined, kept its head and beak
pressed firmly against the back of Conway's helmet. The Nal-lajim wore only eye
protection and an attachment for the thin air line running into the corner of
its mouth.

"Zero gravity in the operative field," Conway said. "Ready, Seldal? We will now
enter the wound."

A tractor beam seized their weightless bodies in its immaterial grasp, deftly
upended them, and lowered them heads first into the narrow opening. The thick
cable loom comprising their air supply, suction and specimen extraction hoses,
and the emergency rescue line unreeled like a multicolored tail behind them.
Conway's helmet lighting showed the smooth, gray walls of the organic well they
had created moving past them, and an enlarged and enhanced image was reproduced
on the external display.

"We are at the base of the entry well," Conway said, "level with the internal
surface of the cranium, and have encountered what is probably the equivalent of
the protective meningeal sheath. The membrane responds to firm hand pressure, in
a way which suggests the presence of underlying fluid, and what appears to be
the outer surface of the brain itself lies just beyond. A precise estimate of
the distance is difficult because either the membrane or the fluid, or perhaps
both, are not completely transparent. A small test incision is being made
through the membrane. That's strange."

A moment later the Diagnostician went on, "The incision has been extended and
opened, but there is still no apparent loss of fluid. Oh, so that's it . . ."

Conway's voice sounded pleased and excited as it went on to explain that, unlike
in other species of its experience, the cere-brospinal fluid, which helped
protect the brain structure from shocks by acting as a lubricant between the
inner cranium and brain, was not in the Groalterri species a fluid. It was
instead a transparent, semisolid lubricant with the consistency of a thin jelly.
When a small piece of the jelly was cut away for closer examination and then
replaced, it immediately rejoined the main body without any trace of the earlier
incision. This was fortunate since it enabled them to go through the meninges
without having to worry about controlling fluid losses, and they could move
laterally with minimal resistance and loss of time between the brain surface and
the meningeal layer to the first objective, a deep fissure between two
convolutions in the area suspected of housing the Groalterri telepathic faculty.

"Before we proceed," Conway said, "is the patient aware of any unusual physical
sensations or psychological effects?"

"No," Hellishomar said.

For a few moments the main screen gave glimpses of Con-way's hands and Seldal's
beak, brightly lit by the helmet lamp, as they pushed themselves carefully
through the clear jelly between the smooth inner meninges and the massively
wrinkled outer surface of the cortex and into the narrow crevice.

"As closely as we can estimate," Conway went on, "this fissure extends about
twenty yards on each side of our entry point and the average depth is three
yards. On the upper brain surface the division between adjoining convolutions is
clearly evident, but with depth the walls begin to press together. The pressure
is not sufficient to be life-threatening, and the effort required to push the
surfaces apart is minimal and does not reduce our mobility, but it would
seriously hamper any surgical procedure that may become necessary and quickly
cause disabling levels of fatigue. Soon we will have to deploy the rings."

Hellishomar had not spoken directly to Lioren, even on the open channel, so that
he had no way of knowing what was going through the patient's mind. But
Prilicla's gauzy wings were beating slowly, and the stability of its hovering
flight made it plain that there was no source of unpleasant emotional radiation
in the area.

"Ease your mind, friend Lioren," the empath said quietly. "At this time your
anxiety is greater than friend Hellishomar's.''

Greatly reassured, Lioren returned his attention on the main screen.

"This is the lobe where the highest concentration of trace metals occurs,"
Conway said. "It has been chosen because similar traces have been associated
with the telepathic function of the few other species known to possess the
faculty, and although the operating mechanism remains unclear, the higher
concentration of metal indicates the presence of an organic transmitter-
receiver. It is the possible impairment of the patient's higher brain functions,
including the telepathic faculty, that we are trying to investigate and correct.
"Regrettably our charting of this area is imprecise," it continued. "This is
because the volume and density of the cranial contents would make it necessary
to use very high power levels on our deep scanners, which would cause
interference with neural activity.

"For this reason the portable, low-powered scanner will be used briefly and only
in an emergency.

"The patient's earlier cooperation in making voluntary muscle movements at our
direction and submitting to external touch, pressure, and temperature stimuli
has enabled us, by observing the local increases in neural activity, to identify
those areas and eliminate them from the investigation. This information was
obtained by sensor only, a detection system which produces no troublesome
radiation, but which lacks the precision of the scanner."

Lioren could not believe that there was anyone in the hospital, either presently
on the staff or future trainees, who did not know the difference between a
scanner and a sensor, and assumed that the explanation was for the patient's
benefit.

"It was expected," Conway went on, "that the brain of a macro life-form would be
more open and coarse-structured to correspond with its large body mass. As we
can now see, the blood supply network is on the expected large scale, but the
neural structure appears to be as highly condensed and finely structured as that
of a being of smaller mass. I cannot ... it is completely beyond rny ability to
estimate the level of mentation possible to a brain of this size and
complexity."

Lioren stared at the enlarged image of Conway's hands as they stretched slowly
forward, pushed palms outward to each side, and then moved back out of sight, as
if the Diagnostician was swimming endlessly through a fleshy ocean. For a moment
he tried to put himself in Hellishomar's place, but the thought of a white,
slippery, two-headed insect crawling about in his brain was so repulsive that he
had to control a sudden feeling of nausea.

Conway's voice became uneven and its respiration more audible as it went on.
"While we cannot be completely certain of what is or is not normal in this
situation, it seems that the investigation so far has uncovered no evidence of
structural abnormality or dysfunction. Our progress is being gradually impeded
by increasing pressure from the fissure walls. At first this was ascribed to
increasing fatigue in my arm muscles, but Seldal, who has no arms to tire, notes
a similar increase in pressure against the outer surface of its carrying pouch.
It is not thought to be a psychosomatic effect caused by claustrophobia.

"Mobility and the field of view are seriously reduced," it added. "We are
deploying the rings."

Lioren watched as Conway struggled to pull the first ring over their heads and,
with the help of Seldal's incredibly flexible neck and beak, position it at
waist level before breaking the compressed-air seal and inflating it around
them. Two more rings were inflated at knee and shoulder level and joined into a
hollow, rigid cylinder by longitudinal spacers. When the initial triple-ring
deployment was complete, they added another ring and spacers to extend the
structure forward. By deflating and withdrawing the rearmost ring and attaching
it in front, and varying the lengths of the spacers, they were able to move the
hollow cylinder and travel within it in any required direction. The open
structure provided all-around visibility and ready access to perform surgery.

They were no longer swimmers in a near-solid ocean, Lioren thought, but miners
boring through a tunnel that they carried with them.

"We are encountering increasing resistance and pressure from one wall of the
fissure," Conway said. "The tissues on that side appear to be both stretched and
compressed. You can see there, and over there, where the blood supply has been
interrupted. Some of the vessels are distended where the blood has pooled and
others deflated and all but empty. This does not appear to be a naturally
occurring condition, and the absence of necrosis in the area suggests that the
circulation is seriously impeded but so far not completely blocked. The
structural adaptation that has taken place also suggests that the condition has
been present for a long time.

"Scanning is needed to find its cause and source," Conway went on. "I will use
the hand scanner briefly, at minimum penetration, now. How does the patient
feel?"

"Fascinated," Hellishomar said.

The Earth-human barked softly. "No emotional or cerebral effects are reported by
the patient. I will try again with a little more penetration."

For a few seconds Conway's scanner image appeared on the main screen, then
dissolved. The recording was projected onto an adjacent screen and frozen for
study.

"The scanner shows the presence of another membrane at a depth of approximately
seven inches," the Diagnostician continued. "It is no more than half an inch
thick, and has a dense, fibrous structure and a degree of convex curvature
which, if continued uniformly, would enclose a spherical body of approximately
ten feet in diameter. The underlying tissue structure is still unclear but shows
a marked difference to that encountered so far. It may be that this is the site
of the lobe responsible for the telepathic faculty. But there are other
possibilities which can only be eliminated by surgical investigation and tissue
analysis. Doctor Seldal will make the incision and obtain tissue samples while I
control the bleeding."

The main screen was filled with a picture of Conway's hands, looking enormous
and distorted because of the proximity of the helmet's vision pickup, as they
fitted a cutter to the Nallajim Senior's beak. Then an index finger moved
forward to outline the position and extent of the required incision.

There was a sudden blur of motion as the back of Seldal's head and neck briefly
obscured the operative field.

"You can see that the initial incision has not uncovered the membrane," Conway
went on, "but the underlying pressure has forced apart the edges of the wound to
a degree that, if we don't relieve the situation by extending the incision at
once, there is a serious risk of it tearing open at each end. Seldal, would you
go a little deeper and extend . . .Oh, damnV

It was as Conway had foreseen. The incision had torn apart at each end and
weightless globules of blood were drifting out of it and totally obscuring the
operative field. Seldal had discarded the cutter because its beak came into view
gripping the suction unit, which it moved expertly along and inside the wound so
that Conway could find and seal off the bleeders. Within a very few minutes the
wound, now with torn, uneven edges and fully three times its original length,
was clear and gaping open to reveal at its base a long, narrow ellipse of utter
blackness.

"We have uncovered a strong, flexible, and light-absorbent membrane," the
Diagnostician resumed, "and two tissue samples have been taken. One is being
sent out to you through the suction unit for more detailed study, but my
analyzer reading indicates an organic material that is totally foreign to the
surrounding tissues. Its cell structure is more characteristic of a vegetable
than an—What the blazes is happening? We can feel the patient moving. It must
remain absolutely still! We are not supposed to be in an area where accidental
stimulation of the motor muscles is possible. Hellishomar, what is wrong?"

The Diagnostician's words were lost in the bedlam of the outer ward, where the
tractor and pressor units were emitting audible and visible signals of overload
as their operators struggled to keep Hellishomar's heaving body motionless. The
Groalterri's enormous head was jerking from side to side against its immaterial
restraints, and the ends of the incision were tearing and bleeding again.
Prilicla's body was being shaken by an emotional gale, and everyone seemed to be
shouting questions, instruction, or warnings at each other.

But it was Hellishomar who succeeded in making itself heard above the din,
suddenly and with one word.

"Lioren!"


Chapter 25

I am here," Lioren said, switching quickly to the secure channel, but the sounds
that the patient was making did not translate.

"Hellishomar, please stop moving," Lioren said urgently. "You could seriously
injure, perhaps kill yourself. And others. What is troubling you? Please tell
me. Is there pain?"

"No, "Hellishomar said.

Telling the patient that it might kill itself would be a waste of time, Lioren
thought, because the Groalterri's presence in the hospital was due to it trying
to do just that. But the reminder that it was endangering others must have
penetrated the frenzy in its mind, because the violence of its struggles was
gradually diminishing.

"Please," Lioren asked again. "What is troubling you?"

The reply came slowly at first, as if each and every word had to break through a
great, individual wall of fear, shame and self-loathing; then suddenly the words
rushed out in a near-incoherent flood that swept away all such barriers. As he
listened to Hellishomar pouring out everything that was in its mind, Lioren's
confusion changed slowly to anger and then to sadness. This was utterly
ridiculous, he told himself. Had he been an Earth-human he might have been
barking with laughter by now at this display of ignorance from a member of a
species that was the most highly intelligent of any race known to the
Federation. But if Lioren had learned anything since joining O'Mara's department
it was that emotional distress was the most subjective of all phenomena, and the
most difficult to relieve.

But this was an entity trained in the Groalterri concepts of healing. It was a
young and perhaps mentally retarded Cutter whose experience was restricted to
peripheral surgery performed on aged members of its own race, and it was viewing
an intercranial procedure, on itself, for the first time. In those circumstances
ignorance was excusable, he told himself, provided it remained a temporary
condition.

"Listen," Lioren said quickly into the first, brief pause in the tirade. "Please
listen carefully to what I am saying, ease your mind, and above all, be still.
The blackness inside your head is not the physical manifestation of your guilt,
nor did it grow because of evil thoughts or any sin committed by you. It is
likely that it is a bad and a dangerous thing, but it is not your spirit or soul
or any part of—"

"It is," Hellishomar broke in. "It is the place where I am. The thinking,
feeling, and grievously sinning me who tried to destroy myself lives in that
place, and it has a blackness that is beyond hope."

"No," Lioren said firmly. "Every intelligent entity I know of believes that its
personality, its soul lives in the brain, usually a short distance behind the
visual receptors. They believe this because, even when there has been gross
trauma and physical dismemberment, it remains intact. Sometimes there is
physical damage or disease that causes the personality to change. But this
change does not come about because of an act of will, so the entity concerned
cannot be held responsible for subsequent behavior. ''

Hellishomar remained silent and its body movements had reduced to the point
where the overload lights were no longer showing on the tractor-beam
installations.

Lioren went on quickly. "It is possible that the inability of your brain to
mature to the stage where direct mind-to-mind contact can be achieved with the
Parents is due to a genetic defect. But it is also possible that the crimes you
blame yourself for committing were the result of a disease or injury to the
brain, and the reason for these wrongful thoughts and actions may now have been
found. You must know that the black mass that Con-way and Seldal have uncovered
is not your personality, because you have told me yourself that the soul is
immaterial, that when the Parents die and their bodies decay and return their
substance to the world, their souls leave Groalterri to begin their never-ending
exploration of the universe—"

"While my own soul," Hellishomar said, beginning to struggle against the
restraints again, "sinks like a stone into the mud of the ocean floor, to fester
in darkness forever.''

Lioren felt that he would lose what little control he had gained over the
situation if he did not speak quickly, and move the argument from metaphysics to
medicine. Focusing one of his eyes on the side screen where the results of
Conway's analysis were being displayed, he went on. ' 'It may well rot at the
bottom of your ocean if that is where you want it placed, but more likely it
will end in a waste-disposal furnace at Sector General. I do not know what it is
exactly, but it is not your soul or, for that matter, any other part of you. It
is completely foreign material, a vegetable form of life, an invader of some
kind. I ask you to be calm and to think, to think as a Groalterri Cutter and
healer, and to remember if there was anything in your past experience that
resembles this black growth. Please think carefully."

For several moments Hellishomar was silent and absolutely still. The ward was
quiet again and he could hear the voice of Conway saying that it was about to
resume the operation.

"Please wait, Doctors," Lioren said, switching briefly to the public channel. "I
may have important clinical data for you." On the main screen one of the
Diagnostician's hands waved acknowledgment, and he returned to the private
channel.

"Hellishomar," Lioren said again, "please try to recall anything resembling this
black growth, whether the memory is from recent experience, the less certain
recollections of infancy, or even the hearsay experiences of others. Can you
remember having contact with such a growth, or having suffered an injury, not
necessarily to the cranium, which would have allowed it to enter the
bloodstream?"

"No," Hellishomar said.

Lioren thought for a moment. "If you do not remember, is it possible that you
contracted the disease as a very small infant, before you were capable of
forming memories? Can you recall any later reference to something like this
happening to you by an older Small charged with your care? This person may not
have considered it important at the time, or mentioned it until you were grown
and—"

"No, Lioren," Hellishomar broke in. "You are trying to make me believe that this
foul thing in my brain is not the result of wrong thinking, and what you are
doing is a great kindness. But I have already told you, it is only the very aged
Parents who are afflicted with diseases, the Small never. We are strong and
healthy and immune. The invisible attackers you have told me about are ignored,
and those large enough to be visible are treated as a nuisance and simply
brushed away.''

Lioren had been hoping that he would discover something useful to Conway and
Seldal by questioning the patient, but he was making no progress at all. He was
about to signal them to proceed when another thought occurred to him.

"These pests that you brush away," he said. "Please tell me all that you can
remember about them."

Hellishomar's replies sounded polite but very impatient, as if it had guessed
that the other's only intention was to keep its mind on other things and the
answers were unimportant. But gradually its answers became very important indeed
and Lioren's questions more precise. Slowly his earlier feeling of hopelessness
was changing to one of excitement and mounting anxiety.

"From all that you have told me," Lioren said urgently, "I am convinced that the
pest you call a skinsticker is the original cause of your trouble, but I do not
want to waste time giving my reasons to you and then again to the operating
team. A final question. Will you give me permission to speak of this to the
others? Not all that has passed between us, and nothing about your thoughts and
fears, only the details of the description and behavior of the skinstickers."
Subjectively it seemed that a very long time elapsed without any response from
Hellishomar. Lioren could hear Conway, Seldal, and the support staff in the ward
talking together, their words muffled by his earpads but their impatience plain.
He tried again.

"Hellishomar," Lioren said, "if my theory is correct, your life may be at risk,
and the cerebral damage will certainly render you incapable of future coherent
thought. Please, your answer is needed quickly.''

"The Cutters inside my skull are also at risk," Hellishomar said. "Tell them."

Without taking time to reply Lioren switched to the public channel and began to
speak.

Although he could not be absolutely certain because of the small amount of
information that the patient had been able to give him, Lioren said that he felt
sure the original cause of the black intercranial growth was due to infestation
by a species of parasitic vegetable vermin known to the Groalterri as a skin-
sticker, which was considered to be a periodic nuisance rather than a threat to
life. Nothing was known about the life cycle or reproduction mechanism of the
skinsticker because they could be easily removed, brushed away with the
manipulatory tentacles or by rubbing the affected area of tegument against a
tree, and a life-form with the enormous physical mass and limited dexterity of
the Groalterri had neither the desire nor the ability to investigate the habits
of a near-microscopic form of plant life.

Skinstickers were black, spherical, and covered with a vegetable adhesive which
enabled them to attach themselves to the host's body and extend their single
feeder root while they were still too small to be seen. They required only an
organic food source and the presence of light and air to grow very quickly to
the size when they became a nuisance and were removed. They could be destroyed
by crushing between hard surfaces or by burning, and after removal the root,
which had a high liquid content, withered quickly and fell out of the wound it
had made.

Lioren went on, "My theory is that this case was the result of infestation by a
single skinsticker which gained entry via a small abrasion which the patient no
longer remembers or through the puncture wound left by the root of an earlier
and unsuccessful skinsticker, and was carried through the circulatory system
until it lodged in the cranium. Once there it had a virtually limitless food
supply but not, apart from the tiny amount of oxygen it was able to absorb from
the local blood supply, the light and air its metabolism required for optimum
growth. The growth rate was inhibited but it has had a great many years, a young
Groalterri's very long lifetime, in which to grow to its present size."

Except for the slow and near-silent beating of Prilicla's wings, the ward might
have been a still picture as Lioren finished speaking. It was Conway who reacted
first.

"An ingenious theory, Lioren," the Diagnostician said, "and while obtaining this
information and discussing it between you, you have succeeded in pacifying our
patient. That was well done. But whether or not your theory is correct, and I
believe that it is, our procedure must continue as originally planned."

Imperceptibly Conway's manner changed from one of person-to-person conversation
to that of lecturer-student instruction as it went on. "This foreign tissue,
tentatively identified as a massively overgrown Groalter skinsticker, will be
excised in very small pieces whose size will be dictated by the maximum orifice
setting of our suction unit. Many hours of patient, careful work will be
required to accomplish this, particularly in the later stages if there are
adhesions to healthy brain tissue, and rest periods or relays of surgeons may be
necessary. However, since the patient has shown no impairment or deterioration
in mentation since its arrival here, and the growth has been present for a very
long time, its removal may be considered necessary but nonurgent. We will be
able to take all the time we need to insure that-"

"No," Lioren said harshly.

' 'No?'' Conway sounded too surprised to be angry, but Lioren knew that the
anger would not be long in coming. "Why not, dammit?"

"With respect," Lioren said, "the screen shows that your original incision is
widening and extending in length. Let me remind you that the skinsticker grows
rapidly in the presence of light and air and, after a great many years in the
airless dark, light and air are again present.''

For a few moments Conway directed angry and self-abusive words at itself, then
suddenly the main screen turned black as it switched off its helmet lighting and
said, "This will slow the rate of growth a little. I need time to think ..."

"You need more surgical assistance," Thoranastor said. "I will—"

"No!" Seldal broke in. "Another set of enormous, awkward feet in here is what we
don't need! There isn't enough space as it is to—"

"My feet aren't that big—" Conway began.

"Not yours," said Seldal. "I'm sorry, for a moment I was thinking of—"

"Doctors!" Thornnastor said, speaking suddenly with the voice and authority of
the hospital's senior Diagnostician. "This is not the time for arguments about
the relative sizes of your ambulatory appendages. Please desist. I was about to
say that the Nidian Senior, Lesk-Murog, is available and anxious to assist. Its
surgical experience is as large as its feet are small. Conway, what are your
instructions?''

The main screen brightened again as Conway switched on its helmet light. "We
need a much wider suction unit, a flexible pipe of six inches' diameter or as
large as Lesk-Murog can han- die, linked to one of the air circulation pumps, so
that large pieces of the growth can be excised and withdrawn quickly. We cannot
work without light, but we should be able to reduce the air that has leaked from
the edges of our breathing masks by withdrawing it with the operative debris and
replacing it with an inert gas pumped through the existing suction line. The
inert should inhibit the skinsticker's rate of growth as effectively as a
complete absence of air, but that is a hope rather than an expectation."

"I understand, Doctor," Thornnastor said. "Maintenance technicians, you know
what is required. Lesk-Murog, prepare yourself. Quickly, everyone."

A subjective eternity passed before the equipment was set up and the diminutive
Lesk-Murog, looking like a plastic-encased, long-tailed rodent with one end of
the new suction pipeline attached to its backpack, disappeared headfirst into
the entry wound. Conway and Seldal had already cut through the skin-sticker's
outer membrane and were excising small pieces and feeding them into the original
suction unit, although it was obvious that the black growth was increasing in
size in spite of their efforts because the incision continued to widen and tear
in both directions. But with the Nidian Senior's arrival the situation changed
at once.

"This is much better," said Conway. "We are beginning to make progress now and
are excising deeply into the growth. As soon as we have hollowed it out
sufficiently, Seldal and Lesk-Murog will go inside and pass the excised material
out to me for disposal. Don't cut such large pieces, doctors, please. If this
suction unit blocks we'll be in real trouble. And watch where you're swinging
that blade, Lesk-Murog, I have no wish to become an amputee. How is the
patient?"

"It is radiating anxiety, friend Conway," Prilicla said, "with secondary but
still strong feelings of excitement. Neither are at levels to cause distress."

Since a further reply was unnecessary, Hellishomar and Lioren did not speak.

The main screen showed glimpses of rapidly moving Earth-human and Nidian hands
and a furiously pecking Nallajim beak plying instruments that glittered brightly
against the light-absorbent blackness of the growth. While describing the
procedure Conway broke off to say that they were feeling more like miners
digging for fossil fuel than surgeons engaged on a brain operation. The
Diagnostician's words were complaining but its voice sounded pleased because the
environment of inert gas was seriously inhibiting further growth and the work
was going well.

"The cavity has been enlarged sufficiently so that all three of us are now able
to work inside and attack the growth independently," Conway said. "Doctors
Seldal and Lesk-Murog are able to stand upright while I am forced to kneel. It
is becoming very warm in here. We would be obliged if the inert gas you are
pumping was reduced in temperature so as to avoid the risk of heat prostration.
The inner surface of the growth's enclosing membrane has been exposed over
several large areas and it is beginning to sag under the weight of the
surrounding brain structure. Please increase the internal gas pressure
immediately to keep it from collapsing all over us. How is the patient?"

"No change, friend Conway," Prilicla said.

For a time the operation proceeded in silence. It was clear what the surgeons
were doing and there was nothing new for Conway to describe, until suddenly he
said, "We have discovered the location of the feeder root and are evacuating its
liquid content. The root has shrunk to less than half its original circumference
and is being withdrawn with negligible resistance. It is very long but appears
to be complete. Seldal is making a deep probe to insure that none of it has been
left behind. No other roots have been discovered, nor anything resembling
connective pathways to a secondary growth.

"The inner surface of the membrane is now totally exposed," the Diagnostician
went on. "We are excising it in narrow strips that can be accommodated by the
suction unit. Of necessity the work at this stage is slow and carefully
performed because we are detaching the membrane from the underlying brain
structures and must avoid inflicting further damage. It is most important that
the patient remain completely immobile."

Hellishomar spoke for the first time in nearly three hours. It said, "I will not
move."
"Thank you," Conway said.

More time passed, slowly for the operating team and interminably for the
watchers, until finally all activity on the main screen ceased and the
Diagnostician spoke again.

"The last of the skinsticker material has been withdrawn," Conway said. "You can
see that the interfacing brain structures displaced by the growth have been
seriously compressed, but we have found no evidence of necrosis due to
impairment of the local circulation, which is, in fact, being slowly restored.
It is unsafe to make categorical statements regarding the clinical condition of
a hitherto unknown life-form or a prognosis based on incomplete data, but my
opinion is that minimum cerebral damage has been done and, provided the effects
were not due to heredity factors, the condition should rectify itself when the
pressure which is artificially maintaining this working cavity is gradually
reduced to zero. There is nothing more that we can do here.

"You leave first, Lesk-Murog," Conway ended briskly. "Sel-dal, hop back into the
pouch. We will withdraw and close up."

Lioren watched the main screen as they slowly retraced their path, and worried.
The operation had been successfully accomplished and the great mass of foreign
matter within the Groal-terri's brain had been removed, but had it been the only
cause of Hellishomar's trouble? The Groalterri had carried that foul thing in
its brain for most of its life, and it could never have become a highly
respected Cutter had there been any impairment of muscular coordination. Was it
not more likely, as Con-way had suggested, that the missing telepathic function
and all the mental distress which had stemmed from it was due to an unbeatable
genetic defect and incurable? He looked around for Prilicla, intending to ask it
how the patient was feeling, then remembered that the emotion-sensitive had been
forced to leave. As a species Cinrusskins lacked stamina and required frequent
rest periods.

He should ask the question of Hellishomar himself, Lioren thought, instead of
waiting for the patient to signal its private distress by calling his name. But
suddenly he was too afraid of what the answer might be. Conway and Seldal had
replaced the massive osseous plug and sutured the flap of cranial tegument and
were removing their operating garments, and still Lioren could not drive himself
to ask the question.

"Thank you, Seldal, Lesk-Murog, everyone," Conway said, looking all around to
include the OR and technical support staff. "You all did very well. And
especially you, Lioren, by making the patient remain immobile when it was most
necessary, by discovering the growth characteristics of that skinsticker, and by
warning us in time about the effects of air and light. That was very well done.
Personally I think your talents are wasted in Psychology."

"I don't," O'Mara said. Then, as if ashamed of the compliment it had paid, the
Chief Psychologist went on, "The trainee is insubordinate, secretive, and has an
infuriating tendency to ..."

Lioren.

They were all listening to O'Mara and seemed not to have heard. Lioren's hand
moved instinctively to his communicator to switch to the private channel,
wondering desperately what possible words of comfort he could find for this vast
being who must again have lost all hope. Then, with his finger on the key, he
stopped as a great and joyful realization came to him.

His name had been called but it had not been spoken.


Chapter 26

ONCE again it was a private conversation, but this time without the deep cranial
itching that had preceeded his telepathic contact with the Protector of the
Unborn. The answers were given before the questions could be uttered, the
other's reassurance negated his concern as soon as it was felt, and the nerve
and muscle connections between Lioren's brain and tongue became redundant. It
was as if a system for exchanging messages chiseled laboriously on slabs of rock
had been replaced by the spoken word, except that the process was much faster
than that.

Hellishomar the Cutter, formerly the flawed, the mentally deficient, the
telepathically deaf and no longer the Small, was cured.

Gratitude washed over him in a bright, warm flood that only Lioren could see and
feel, and with it came knowledge, incomplete and simplified so as to avoid
damage to his relatively primitive mentality, that must be his alone. The people
who had contributed to the unique and wondrous cure of a mentally disabled
Groalterri should not be repaid with knowledge that would cripple their own
young minds. Hellishomar had touched the minds of every thinking being within
the hospital and the occupants of vessels orbiting beyond it, and knew this to
be so.

The entities who had contributed to the success of the operation would be
thanked individually and verbally. They would be told that Hellishomar felt very
well, that a significant change for the better had already taken place in the
quality of its mentation, and that it was anxious to return to Groalter, where
its recuperation would be aided by the greater freedom of physical movement that
was not possible in Sector General.

All this was true, but it was not all of the truth. They were not to be told
that Hellishomar needed to leave the hospital quickly because the temptation to
remain and explore the minds and behavior and philosophies of the thousands of
entities who came to work, to visit, or to be cared for in this great hospital
was well-nigh irrestistible. For Lioren had been right when he had told O'Mara
that to the gross and planetbound Groalterri the universe beyond the atmosphere
was the hereafter that they would need all eternity to explore, and Sector
General was a particularly intriguing microcosm of the Heaven that awaited them.

Lioren's concern over the possible effects on the other Groalterri culture of
Hellishomar's off-planet experiences had been justified at the time. But now
Hellishomar was not returning as one of the Small destined to remain a
telepathic mute and crippled by a permanently occluded mind for the remainder of
its life. Instead it was returning with all of its faculties restored, as a
near-adult who would speak of this wondrous thing only to the Parents. It did
not know how they would react to the knowledge he bore, but they were old and
very wise and it was probable that the proof that Heaven was as wonderful and
mind-stretching as they believed, and even that a small part of it was peopled
by short-lived creatures whose minds were primitive and their ethics advanced,
would strengthen their belief and cause them to strive even harder for the
perfection of mind and spirit that was needed before the Going Out.
A great debt was owed to the Monitor Corps and to the hospital staff who had
made Hellishomar whole again, and to the single Tarlan entity who had talked and
argued and worked with its mind to obtain the patient's agreement to the
operation. An even greater debt was owed by the other Groalterri, but neither
debt would be paid. The Federation would not be allowed full contact with the
Groalterri for the reasons already given, and neither would Lioren be given the
answers to the two questions uppermost in his mind.

During all his contacts with patients Lioren had never allowed himself to
influence their nonmaterial beliefs, no matter, in the light of his own greater
knowledge and experience, how strange or ridiculous they had seemed to him. He
had refused to tamper with their beliefs even though he himself did not believe
that he believed in anything. In the circumstances Lioren's behavior had been
ethically flawless and Hellishomar could do no less. It would not give its
Tarlan friend the benefit of the advanced Groalterri philosophical and
theological thinking by telling him what he should believe. And an answer to the
second question was unnecessary because Lioren was about to make the decision
for himself and do something that was completely foreign to his nature.

Lioren was becoming confused by this highly compressed method of communication,
and by answers that come before the questions are fully formed.

It shames me to remind you of the debt you owe, Lioren thought, and to ask that
a small part of it be repaid. When you touch my mind I sense a vastness of
knowledge, a great area of brightness that you are hiding from me. If you
instructed me I would believe. Why will you not tell me from your greater
knowledge what is the truth about God?

By your own efforts, Hellishomar replied, you have acquired great knowledge. You
have used it to ease the inner hurts of many entities, including my former,
retarded self, but you are not yet ready to believe. The question has already
been answered.

Then I repeat the second question, Lioren went on. Is there any hope of me
finding ease or a release from the constant memory and guilt of Cromsag ? The
decision I have struggled with for so long involves behavior shameful to a
Tarlan of my former standing, but no matter. It may also result in my death. I
ask only if the decision I have made is the right one.

Does the memory of Cromsag trouble you continually, Hel- lishomar thought, to
the extent that you would seek your own death as a release from it?

No, said Lioren, surprised by the intensity of his feelings. But that is because
so many other matters have recently occupied my mind. I would not welcome death,
especially if it came about by accident or as a result of a stupid decision on
my part.

Yet you believe that the decision includes the serious risk of major injury or
death, Hellishomar returned, and I find no indication that you are going to
change your mind. I will not tell you whether your decision is right or wrong or
stupid, or of the probable results, but shall only remind you that no event in
this state of existence occurs by accident.

This much I will do for you, Hellishomar went on. Your coming action will not be
hampered in any way. Since your decision has now been made, I suggest that you
avoid prolonging your distress and uncertainty further and leave without delay.
There was a moment of mental dislocation as Lioren's mind returned to a working
environment in which conversations were conducted by laggard speech and meanings
were clouded. It seemed that O'Mara had just finished listing its trainee's
shortcomings. Conway was showing its teeth and reminding the Chief Psychologist
that it had expressed serious displeasure with everyone in Sector General, and
especially those who had risen to become Diagnosticians, and it seemed that
every being in the ward was watching Lioren expectantly and trying to move
closer.

"The patient is well," Lioren said. "It feels no sensory discomfort and reports
a significant and continuing improvement in the quality of its mentation. It
wishes to use the public channel to thank everyone here individually.''

They were all too excited and pleased to notice him leave. Lioren plotted the
fastest route to the Cromsaggar ward and tried to push all second thoughts out
of his mind.

He had already checked the duty rosters and knew that there were only two
nursing staff on the ward. This was normal practice when patients were fully
convalescent and under observation rather than treatment or awaiting discharge,
but it was not normal to post an armed Monitor at the ward entrance.

The guard was an   Earth-human DBDG, with only two arms and legs and less than
half of Lioren's   body mass, and its weapon was a disabler. It could scramble his
voluntary muscle   system or cause full paralysis, depending on the power setting,
but it would not   kill him.

"Lioren, Psychology Department," he said briskly. "I am here to interview the
patients."

"And I am here to stop you," the guard said. "MajorO'Mara said that you might
try to get among the Cromsaggar patients and that you should be forbidden entry
for your own safety. Please leave at once, sir."

The guard was showing the consideration and respect due Lioren's former rank as
a Surgeon-Captain, but feelings of kindliness and sympathy, however strong,
would not cause it to ignore its orders. Surely O'Mara knew enough Tarlan
psychology to know that he would not try to escape just punishment by
deliberately ending his own life. Perhaps the Chief Psychologist had thought
that even this Tarlan could change his mind and his inflexible code of behavior
and force himself to commit an act formerly considered dishonorable and had
simply taken precautions.

This obstruction, Lioren thought helplessly, had not been foreseen. Or had it?

"I'm glad you understand my position," the guard said suddenly. "Good-bye, sir."

A few seconds later it stamped its feet and, as if to relieve boredom or
stiffening leg muscles, began pacing slowly along the corridor. If Lioren had
not stepped aside quickly, the guard would have walked straight into him.

Thank you, Hellishomar, Lioren thought, and entered the ward.

It was a long, high-ceilinged room containing forty beds in two opposing rows
and with the nurses' station rising like a glass-walled island from the center
of the floor. Environmental technicians had reproduced the dusty yellow light of
Cromsag's sun and softened the structural projections with native vegetation and
wall hangings that looked real. The patients were standing or sitting in small
groups around four of the beds, talking together quietly while another group was
watching a display screen on which a Corps contact specialist was explaining the
Federation's long-term plans for reconstructing Cromsag's technology and
rehabilitating the Cromsaggar. One of the Orligian duty nurses was using the
communicator and the other's furry head was swiveling slowly from side to side
as it scanned the length of the ward. It was plain that they did not see him
and, as with the guard outside, their minds had been touched to render them
selectively blind.

Whether or not his decision was the correct one, Hellishomar had promised that
he could make it without interruption.

Trying to show neither haste nor hesitation, Lioren walked down the ward in a
gathering silence. He looked briefly at the seated or recumbent patients he
passed, and they stared back at him. He had never learned to read Cromsaggar
facial expressions and had no idea of what they were thinking. When he reached
the largest group of patients he stopped.

"I am Lioren," he said.

It was obvious that they already knew who and what he was. The patients who had
been sitting or lying on the nearby beds rose quickly to their feet and gathered
around him, and those further along the ward hurried to join the others until he
was completely encircled by still and silent Cromsaggar.

A sharp, clear memory of his first meeting with one of them rose in Lioren's
mind. It had been a female attacking him in defense of an imagined threat to
infants sleeping in another part of its dwelling, and even though its body had
displayed the discoloration and muscle wastage of disease and malnutrition, it
had come close to inflicting serious injury on him. Now he was surrounded by
more than thirty Cromsaggar whose bodies and limbs were well-muscled and
healthy. He knew well the damage that those horny, long-nailed feet and hard
medial hands could inflict because he had seen them fighting each other not
quite to the death.

On Cromsag they had fought with ferocity but total control, with the intention
of inflicting maximum damage short of killing, and with the sole purpose of
stirring their near-atrophied endocrine systems into sufficient activity to
enable them to procreate and survive as a species. But Lioren was not another
Cromsaggar and would-be mate; he was the creature responsible for countless
thousands of their deaths and of all but destroying their race. They might not
want to control the hatred they must feel for him, or the urge to tear his body
apart limb from limb.

He wondered whether the distant Hellishomar was still influencing the minds of
the guard and the two nurses, for normally they could not have helped seeing the
crowd closing in around him and would have attempted a rescue. He wished that
the

Groalterri would not be so thorough in its mind control because suddenly he did
not want his life to end in this or any other fashion, and then he realized that
his thoughts were clear to Hellishomar and he felt an even greater shame.
That which he was about to do and say was shameful enough without adding to it
the dishonor of personal cowardice. Slowly he looked at each one of the faces
surrounding him and spoke.

"I am Lioren," he said. "You know that I am the being responsible for causing
the deaths of many thousands of your people. This was a crime too great for
expiation and it is only fair that the punishment should lie in your hands. But
before this punishment is carried out, I wish to say that I am truly sorry for
what I have done, and humbly ask your forgiveness."

The feeling of shame at what he had just done was not as intense as he had
expected, Lioren thought as he waited for the onslaught. In fact he felt
relieved and very good.


Chapter 27

THE Monitor guard insists that he did not see you enter the ward," the Chief
Psychologist said in a quiet but very angry voice, "and the nurses did not know
you were there until the Cromsaggar were suddenly standing around and shouting
at you. When the guard went in to investigate you told him that he should not be
concerned, that they were having a religious argument which he was welcome to
join, although he says that he had heard quieter riots. Tarlans are not noted
either for their sarcasm or their sense of humor, so I must assume you spoke the
truth. What happened in that ward, dammit? Or have you imposed another oath of
secrecy on yourself?"

"No, sir," Lioren replied quietly. "The conversations were public and
confidentiality was neither asked for nor implied. When you sent for me I was
preparing a detailed report for you on the whole—"

"Summarize it," O'Mara said sharply.

"Yes, sir," Lioren said, and tried to find a balance between accuracy and
brevity as he went on. "When I identified myself, apologized, and asked
forgiveness for the great wrong I had committed against them—"

"You apologized?" O'Mara broke in. "That—that was unexpected."

"So was the behavior of the Cromsaggar," Lioren said. "Considering my crime, I
expected a violent reaction from them, but instead they—"

"Did you hope that they would kill you?" O'Mara broke in again. "Was that the
reason for your visit?"

"It was not!" Lioren said sharply. "I went there to apologize. That is a
shameful enough act for any Tarlan to perform because it is considered to be a
cowardly and dishonorable attempt to diminish personal guilt and avoid just
punishment. But it is not as shameful as escaping that punishment by
deliberately ending one's life. There are degrees of shame, and from my recent
contacts with patients I have discovered that there are feelings of shame that
may be misplaced or unnecessary.''

"Goon," O'Mara said.

"As yet I do not fully understand the psychological mechanism involved," Lioren
replied, "but I have discovered that in certain circumstances a personal
apology, while shameful to the entity making it, can sometimes do more to ease
the hurt of a victim than the simple knowledge that the offender is receiving
just punishment. It seems that vengeance, even judicial vengeance, does not
fully satisfy the victim and that a sincere expression of regret for the wrong
committed can ease the pain or loss more than the mere knowledge that justice is
being done. When the apology is followed by forgiveness on the part of the
wronged entity, there are much more beneficial and lasting effects for both
victim and perpetrator.

"When I identified myself in the Cromsaggar ward," Lioren went on, "there was a
strong probability that lethal violence would ensue. It was no longer my wish to
die, because the work of this department is very interesting and there may be
more that I can do here, but I felt strongly that I should try to ease the hurt
of the Cromsaggar with an apology, and did so. I did not expect what happened
then."

In a very quiet voice O'Mara asked, "You are still insisting that you, a Wearer
of the Blue Cloak of Tarla with all that that implies, apologized?"

The question had already been answered so Lioren continued. "I had forgotten
that the Cromsaggar are a civilized race forced by disease to wage war. They
fought with great ferocity because they had to try their hardest to engender the
fear of imminent death in each other if their formerly impaired sex-involved
endocrine systems were to be stimulated to the point where they would become
briefly capable of conceiving children. But while fighting they learned to
exercise strict mental and emotional control, and refuse to surrender to anger
or hatred, because they loved and respected the opponents they were trying so
hard to damage almost to the point of death. They had to fight to insure the
continual survival of their species, but the wounds they inflicted and sustained
were personal to themselves. They could not have continued to fight and respect
and love each other if they had not also learned to apologize for and forgive
each other for the terrible hurts they were inflicting.

"On Cromsag the ability to forgive is what enabled their society to survive for
so long."

Suddenly Lioren was seeing and hearing again the Cromsaggar patients who had
crowded around him, and for a moment he could not speak because his emotions
were being involved in a way that any self-respecting Tarlan would have
considered to be a shameful weakness. But he knew that this was another one of
the minor shames that he was learning to accept. He went on. "They treated me as
another Cromsaggar, a friend who had done a very great wrong and inflicted much
suffering in an attempt to save their race and, unlike themselves, I had
succeeded.

"They—they forgave me and were grateful.

"But they were also fearful about the return to Cromsag," he continued quickly.
"They understood and were grateful for the rehabilitation program the Monitor
Corps had planned for them and said that they would cooperate in every way. It
is a psychological problem involving a disbelief in their own ability to exist
without severe and continuous stress, coupled with a belief that fate, or a
nonmaterial presence whose precise nature was the subject of much argument,
might not intend them to live lives of contentment in the material world.
Basically it was a religious matter. I told them about the racial memory of the
Gogleskans, the Dark Devil which tries to drive them to self- destruction, and
how Rhone is besting it. And about the problems of the Protectors of the Unborn,
and gave what other reassurance I could. My report will cover everything that
transpired in detail. I do not foresee the Corps psychologists having serious
trouble with the problem. An ensuing religious debate, which the Cromsaggar
engage in with great enthusiasm, was interrupted by the arrival of the guard."

O'Mara leaned back into its chair and said, "Apart from taking that insane risk
you have done well, but then fortune often favors the stupid. In a very short
time you have also become something of an authority on other-species religious
beliefs mostly, I have been told, by studying the available material during off-
duty periods. This is a very sensitive area which the department normally
prefers to leave untouched, but so far you have had no problems with it. So much
so that you may now consider yourself to be a full member of the department
staff rather than a trainee. This will in no sense improve my behavior toward
you because you have become the second most insubordinate and selectively
reticent person I have ever known. Why will you not tell me what went on between
you and ex-Diagnostician Mannen?''

Lioren decided to treat it as a rhetorical question because he had refused to
answer it the first time it had been asked. Instead he asked, "Are there any
other assignments for me, sir?"

The Chief Psychologist exhaled with an unusually loud hissing sound, then said,
"Yes. Senior Physician Edanelt would like you to talk to one of its post-op
patients, Cresk-Sar has a trainee Dwerlan with a nonspecified ethical problem,
and the Cromsaggar patients would like you to visit them as soon and as often as
you find convenient. Khone says that it is willing to try my suggestion that the
transparent wall dividing its compartment be reduced gradually in height and
eventually replaced by a white line painted on the floor, and it wants to see
you again, as well. There is also the original Seldal assignment, which you seem
to have forgotten."

"No, sir, I have completed it," Lioren said, and went on quickly. "From the
information given by yourself and my subsequent conversations with and about
Senior Physician Seldal it was clear that a marked change in personality and
behavior had taken place, although not for the worse. At first the change was
apparent in the reduced number of couplings with female

Nallajims on the staff, and in its behavior toward colleagues and subordinates.
Normally members of that species are physically and emotionally hyperactive,
impatient, impolite, inconsiderate, and subject to the rapid changes of mood
that make them very unpopular as surgeons-in-charge. Not so Seldal. Its OR and
ward staff would do anything it asks and will not allow a word of criticism
about their Senior either as a surgeon or a person, and I agree with them. The
reason for the change, I am certain, is that one of the Educator-tape
personalities Seldal is carrying has assumed partial control or is exerting a
considerable amount of influence on the Senior's mind.

"I did not realize that a Tralthan donor was responsible," Lioren continued,
"until the incident during the Hellishomar operation when the growth was
threatening to get out of control and Conway needed help. Seldal had a moment of
extreme stress and indecision during which it must have forgotten who it was.
The remark about not wanting another set of big feet in the operative field was
intended for Thornnastor, who had offered help, and referred to its six overly
large Tralthan feet rather than Conway's, because at that moment the Tralthan
tape persona was in the forefront of its mind.
"This is an unusual and perhaps unique situation," Lioren went on, "because
observational evidence supports my theory that the partial control of Seldal's
mind was relinquished willingly. I would say that the Tralthan donor, rather
than being kept under tight control by the host mind, has been befriended by
Seldal. The feeling may be even stronger than that. There is professional
respect, admiration of a personality that possesses the Tralthan attributes of
inner calm and self-assurance that is so unlike Seldal's own, and it is probable
that a strong emotional bond has formed between the Senior Physician and this
immaterial Tralthan that is indistinguishable from nonphysical love. As a result
we have a Nallajim Senior who has willingly assumed the personality traits of a
Tralthan and is a better physician and a more content person because of it. That
being so I would recommend that nothing whatever be done about the case."

"Agreed," O'Mara said quietly, and for a moment it stared at him in a way which
made Lioren wonder again if the Chief Psychologist possessed a telepathic
faculty. "There is more?"

"I do not wish to embarrass and perhaps anger a superior, by asking this as a
question," Lioren said carefully, "but I have formed a suspicion that you,
having knowledge of the donor tapes in the Senior Physician's mind, suspected or
were already aware of the situation and the Seldal assignment was a fitness test
for myself. Its secondary, or perhaps its primary, purpose was to try to make me
go out and meet people so that my mind would not be concerned solely with
thoughts of my own terrible guilt. I have not nor will I ever be able to forget
the Cromsag Incident. But your plan worked and for that I am truly grateful to
you, and especially for making me realize that there were people other than
myself who were troubled, entities like Khone, Hellishomar, and Mannen who—"

"Mannen is a friend," O'Mara broke in. "His clinical condition has not changed,
he could terminate at any moment, and yet he is going around in that antigravity
harness like a ... Dammit, it's a bloody miracle! I would like to know what you
said to each other. Anything you tell me will not go into his psych file and I
will not speak of it to anyone else, but I want to know. Termination comes to
everyone and some of us, unfortunately, may be given too much time to think
about it. I will not break this confidence. After all, he is an old friend."

The question was being asked again, but his momentary feeling of irritation was
quickly replaced by one of sympathy as he realized that the Chief Psychologist
was troubled, however briefly, by the thought of termination and the
deterioration of the body and mind which preceded it. His answer must be the
same as before, but this time Lioren believed that he could make it more
encouraging.

"The ex-Diagnostician is no longer troubled in its mind," he said gently. "If
you were to ask your questions of Mannen, as an old friend, I feel sure that it
will tell you everything you want to know. But I cannot."

The Chief Psychologist looked down at his desk as if ashamed of its momentary
display of weakness, then up again.

"Very well," it said briskly. "If you won't talk you won't talk. Meanwhile the
department will have to contend with another soft-spoken, insubordinate Carmody.
No disciplinary action will be taken over your Cromsaggar ward visit. Close the
door on your way out. Quietly."

Lioren returned to his desk feeling relieved but very confused, and decided that
he must try to relieve the confusion; otherwise the quality of his report would
suffer. But search as he would, the information he wanted remained hidden, and
he was beginning to strike his keyboard as if it were a mortal enemy.

Across the office Braithwaite cleared its breathing passages with a noise which
Lioren now knew denoted sympathy. "You have a problem?''

"I'm not sure," Lioren replied. "O'Mara said that it would take no disciplinary
action, but it called me ... Who or what is a Carmody, and where will I find the
information?''

Braithwaite swung round to face him and said, "You won't find it there.
Lieutenant Carmody's file was withdrawn after his accident. He was before my
time but I know a little about him. He came here from the Corps base on Orligia
at his own request and managed to survive in the department for twelve years
even though he and O'Mara were always arguing. When an incoming ship whose pilot
was badly injured lost control and crashed through our outer hull, he
accompanied the rescue team and tried to give reassurance to what he thought was
a surviving crewmember. It turned out to be a very large, fear-maddened and
nonintelligent ship's pet, which attacked him. He was very old and frail and
gentle, and did not survive his injuries.

"During his time here Lieutenant Carmody became very well liked and highly
respected by all of the staff and long-term patients," Braithwaite concluded,
"and his position was not filled, until now.''

Feeling even more confused, Lioren said, "The relevance of what you say eludes
me. I am neither old nor frail nor particularly gentle, I have been stripped of
all Monitor Corps rank, and my arguments with O'Mara are concerned only with the
retention of patient confidences—"

"I know," said Braithwaite, showing its teeth. "Your predecessor called it the
Seal of Confession. And the rank doesn't matter. Carmody never used his, and
most of the people here did not even use his name. They just called him Padre."




About the Author

JAMES WHITE was born in Belfast, Northern Ireland, and resided there until 1984
when he moved to Portstewart on the North coast. His first story was printed in
1953. He has since published well-received short stories, novellas, and novels,
but he is best known for the Sector General series, which deals with the
difficulties involved in running a hospital that caters to many radically
different life-forms.