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CHAPTER Double Contact by James White
Copywrite 1999
Other BOOKS BY JAMES WHITE
The Secret Visitor (1957)
Second Ending (1962)
Deadly Litter (1964)
Escape Orbit (1965)
The Watch Below (1966)
All Judgement Fled (1968)
The Aliens Among Us (1969)
Tomorrow Is Too Far (1971)
Dark Inferno (1972)
The Dream Millennium (1974)
Monsters and Medics (1977)
Underkill (1979)
Future Past (1982)
Federation World (1988)
The Silent Stars Go By (1991)
The White Papers (1996)
Gene Rodden berry's Earth:
Final Conflict-The First Protector (Tor, 2000)
THE SECTOR GENERAL SERIES
Hospital Station (1962)
Star Surgeon (1963)
Major Operation (1971)
Ambulance Ship (1979)
Sector General (1983)
Star Healer (1985)
Code Blue-Emergency (1987)
The Genocidal Healer (1992)
The Galactic Gourmet (Tor, 1996)
Final Diagnosis (Tor, 1997)
Mind Changer (br, 1998)
Double Contact (br, 1999)
Species Classification
The Classification System
by Gary Louie
James White's Sector General stories used a unique four letter
classification system that helped describe the species quickly and
effectivly, as one would require when the hospitol is a multi species
enviroment.
Gary Louie was working on a James White concordance. As part of that he
completed a classification system, for the sector general series which
covers all characters up to Final Diagnosis.
This article appeared in the White Papers. Unfortunatly Gary Louie passed
away, before the concordance was completed.
Classification:AACL
Planet:Unknown
Species:Crepellian Pet No Individual Names Known
A non-intelligent pet kept by AMSOs. It has six python-like
ten-tacles which poke though seals in the cloudy plastic of its
suit. The tentacles are each at least twenty feet long and tipped
with a horny substance which must be steel-hard.
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Classification:AACP
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name Unknown No Individual Names Known
A race whose remote ancestors were a species of mobile vegetable.
They are slow moving, but the carbon dioxide tanks which they wear
seem to be the only protection they need. AACPs do not eat in the
normal manner but plant themselves in specially prepared soil during
their sleep period, and absorb nutriment in that way.
Classification:AMSL
Planet:Unknown
Species:Creppelian, Crepellian
Individuals:Nurse Towan, Diagnostician Vosan
A species of water breathing octopoids.
Classification:AMSO
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name Unknown
No Individual Names Known
A larger life-form, in the habit of keeping non-intelligent
AACL-type creatures as pets.
Classification:AUGL
Planet:Chalderescol IT
Species:Chaldor, Chalder
Individuals:Patient AUGL-1 13, Patient AUGL-1 16, Patient AUGL-122,
Patient AUGL-126, Patient AUGL-187, Patient AUGL-193, Patient
AUGL-211, Patient AUGL-218, Patient AUGL-22 1, Patient AUGL-233,
Muromeshomon
The denizens of Chalderescol, an armored fish-like species are
water-breathers who can not live in any other medium for more than a
few seconds. A heavily plated and scaled being, slightly re-sembling
a forty-foot long armour-plated crocodile, except that instead of
legs there is an apparently haphazard arrangement of stubby fins,
and a heavy knife-edged tail. A fringe of ribbon-like tentacles
encircles its middle, projecting through some of the only openings
visible in its organic armor. Chaldors have six rows of teeth in an
over-large mouth. The Chalders are one of the frw in-telligent
species whose personal names are used only between mates, members of
the immediate family, or very special friends.
Classification:BLSU
Planet:Groalter
Species:Groalterri
Individual:Hellishomar the Cutter
The Groalterri overall body configuration is that of a squat
octopoid with short, thick tentacular limbs. Its central torso and
head seem disproportionately large. The eight limbs terminate
alternately in four sets of claws (that will with maturity evolve
into manipula-tory digits) and four flat, sharp-edged, osseous
blades. The organ of speech and hearing is centered above the four
heavily lidded eye that are equally spaced around the cranium. A
macrospecies, there is an element of risk involved to any life-form
of more or less nor-mal body mass which approaches it too closely.
Classification:BRLH
Planet:Tarla
Species:Tarlan
Individuals:Surgeon-Captain/Trainee/Padre Lioren, Sedith and
Wrethrin the Healers
Tarlans are an erect quadrupedal life-form with its for short-legs
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supporting a tapering, cone-shaped body. Four long, multi-jointed,
medial arms for heavy lifting and handling sprout from waist-level.
Another four that are suited for more delicate work encircle the
base of the neck. Equally spaced around the head are four eyes whose
stalks are capable of independent motion. Tarlans have very large
teeth. An adult Tarlan stands eight feet tall.
Classification:CLCH
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name Unknown
No Individual Names Known
Apparent typographical error for Classification CLHG.
Classification:CLHG
Planet:Drambo
Species:Roller
Individuals:Camsaug, Surreshun
The Rollers resemble animated donuts rolling on their outer edge,
with manipulatory appendages in the form of a fringe ofshort
ten-tacles sprouting from the inner circumference between the series
of gill mouths and eyes. Its visual equipment must operate like a
coeleostat since the contents of its field of vision are constantly
rotating. The Rollers must roll to stay alive-there is an ingenious
method of shifting its center of gravity while keeping itself
upright by partially inflating the section of its body which is on
top at any given moment. The continual rolling causes blood to
circulate-it uses a form of gravity feed system instead of a
muscular pump. The species reproduce hermaphroditically. Each parent
after mating grows twin offspring, one on each side of its bodies
like continu-ous blisters encircling the side walls of a tire.
Injury, disease or the mental confusion immediately following birth
could cause the parent to lose balance, roll on to its side, stop
and die. The points where the children eventually detach themselves
from their par-ents remain very sensitive areas to both generations
and their posi-tions are governed by hereditary factors. The result
is that any close blood relation trying to make mating contact
causes itself and the other being considerable pain. The rollers
really do hate their fa-thers and every other relative. The species
is water-breathing with a warm-blooded oxygen-based metabolism. The
life-support mechanism for the species is physically complicated, to
allow the occupant to roll naturally within it. The concept of
modesty is com-pletely alien to this race. This species does not
know the meaning of sleep. There is no such thing as sleeping,
pretending to be dead or unconsciousness. A Roller is either moving
and alive or still and dead.
Classification:CLSR
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name Unknown
No Individual Names Known
Apparent typographical error for Classification CPSD.
Classification:CPSD
Planet:Unknown
Species:The Blind Ones
No Individual Names Known
These beings are roughly circular, just over a meter in diameter
and, in cross section, a slim oval flattened slightly on the
under-side. In shape they very much resemble their ship, except that
the ship does not have a long, thin horn or sting projecting aft or
a wide, narrow slit on the opposite side which is obviously a mouth.
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The upper lip of the mouth is wider and thicker than the lower, and
can be curled over the lower lip, apparently sealing the mout shut.
The beings are covered, on their upper and lower surfaces and around
the rim, by some kind of organic stubble which varies in thickness
from pin-size to the width of a small finger. The stubble on the
underside is much coarser than that on the upper surface, and it is
plain that parts of it are designed for ambulation. The Blind Ones
evolved underground, and have no organs for sight. They formed an
alliance with the Protectors of the Unborn, each species providing
something that other lacked.
Classification:CRLT
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name Unknown
No Individual Names Known
Senior Physician Conway was unable to classi~ this life-form with
complete certainty. The initial analysis was performed on a cadaver,
an independent portion of a larger composite being. The compos-ite
is a warm-blooded oxygen breather with the type of basic me-tabolism
associated with the physiological grouping CRLT. Even a segment is
massive, measuring approximately twenty meters in length and three
meters in diameter, excluding projecting append-ages. Physically it
resembles the DBLF Kelgian life-form, but it is many times larger
and possesses a leathery tegument rather than the silver fur of the
Kelgians. Like the DBLF's it is multipedal, but the manipulatory
appendages are positioned in a single row along the back. There are
twenty-one of these dorsal limbs, all showing evidence of early
evolutionary specialization. Six of them are long, heavy, and
claw-tipped and are obviously evolved for defense since the being is
a herbivore. The other fifteen are in five groups of three, spaced
between the six heavier tentacles, which terminate in four digits,
two of which are opposable. These thinner limbs are ma-nipulatory
appendages originally evolved for gathering and trans-ferring food
to the mouths-three on each flank opening into three stomachs. Two
additional orifices on each side open into a very large and complex
lung. The structure inside these breathing ori-fices suggests that
expelled air could be interrupted and modulated to produce
intelligence-bearing sounds. On the underside are three openings
used for the elimination of wastes. The mechanism of reproduction is
unclear and the specimen shows evidence of p05-sessing both male and
female genitalia on the forward and rear extremities respectively
The brain, if it is a brain, takes the form of a cable of nerve
ganglia with localized swellings in three places, running
longitudinally through the cadaver like a central core. There is
another and much thinner nerve cable running parallel to the thicker
core, but below it and about twenty-five centimeters from the
underside. Positioned close to each extremity are two sets of three
eyes. Two are mounted dorsally and two on each of the forward and
rear flanks. They are recessed but capable of limited extension;
together they give the being complete and continuous vision
vertically and horizontally. The type and positioning of the visual
equipment and appendages suggest that it evolved on a very
unfriendly world. The tentative Classification is an incomplete CRLT
Classification:DBDG
Planets:Earth, Gregory (Colony)
Species:Earth-human, Gregorian
Individuals:Theologian Augustine, Lieutenant Braithwaite,
Sur-geon-Lieutenant Brenner, Corpsman Briggs, Lieutenant Briggs,
Captain Chaplain Bryson, Lieutenant Carrington, Lieutenant Chen,
Major Chiang, Clarke, Lieutenant Clifton, Junior Intern/Senior
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PhysicianlDiagnostician-in-Charge of Surgery Peter Conway, Sergeant
Davis, Major/Colonel Jonathan Dermod, Fleet Commander Dermod,
Lieutenant Dodds, Lieutenant Dowling, Major-Captain Fletcher, Fox,
Trainee Hadley, Harmon, Lieuten-ant Haslam, Patient Hewlitt, Tailor
George L Hewlitt, Mrs. George L Hewlitt, Captain Hokasuri, Major
Holyrod, OR Nurse Hudson, Lieutenant-General Lister, MacEwan, Major
Madden, Captain Mallon, Senior Physician/Diagnostician/Patient
Mannen/Man non, Nurse/Pathologist Murchison, Major Nelson,
Mister/Major/Chief Psychologist O'Mara, Captain Sigvard Nyberg,
Doctor Pelling, General Prentiss, Reviora, Lieutenant-Colonel
Simmons, Colonel Skempton, Surgeon-Lieutenant/Major Stillman,
Lieutenant-Sur-geon Sutherland, Corpsman Timmins, Lieutenant
Wainright, Waring, Corpsman/Colonel-Captain Williamson
Probable Individuals:Lieutenant Carmody, Lieutenant Carson, Section
Chief Caxton, Major Colinson, Major Craythorne, Major Edwards,
Doctor Hamilton, Dietician-in-ChiefKW Hardin, Lieu-tenant Harrison,
Lieutenant Hendricks, Kellerman, Colonel Okaussie, Captain Stillson,
Captain Summerfield, TrooperTeirnan, Surgeon-Captain Telford
This species shows their teeth in a silent snarl when displaying
amusement or friendship and make an unpleasant barking sound that
denotes amusement. The sound, called laughing, in most cases a
psychophysical mechanism for the release of minor degrees of
tension. An Earth-human laughs because of sudden relief from worry
or fear, or to express scorn or disbelief or sarcasm, or in
re-sponse to words or a situation that is ridiculous, illogical or
funny, or out of politeness when the situation or words are not
funny but the person responsible is of high rank. The Earth-human
voice is reputed to be one of the most versatile instruments in the
Galaxy. The Earth-human DBDGs are the only race in the Galactic
Fed-eration with a nudity taboo, and one of the very few member
spe-cies with an aversion to making love in public. The Earth-human
DBDGs make up the majority of the Monitor Corps forces.
Classification:DBDG
Planets:Etlan Empire, Central World (Capital), Imperial Etla
(Capital), Etla, Etla the Sick (Colony)
Species:Etlan, Imperial
Individuals:Heraltnor, Imperial Representative Teltrenn
The physiology of the citizens of the Empire is the same as the
population of their colony Etla. The physiological resemblance is so
close to Earth-human DBDGs that no other disguise other than native
language and dress is needed. There are theories about a prehistoric
colonization program by common, star-travelling an-cestors. Attempts
at procreation between Earth-human DBDGs and Etlans have been
unsuccessful.
Classification:DBDG
Planet:Nidia
Species:Nidian
Individuals:Chief of Procurement Creon-Emesh, Senior Physi-cian and
Tutor Cresk-Sar, Surgeon-Lieutenant Dracht-Yur, Lieu-tenant-Colonel
Dragh-Nin, Senior Physician Lesk-Murog, Senior Food Technician
Sarnyagh-Sa, Yoragh-Kar
Probable Individual:Surgeon-Lieutenant Krack-Yar
The Nidians have seven-fingered hands, stand only four feet tall.
They have a thick red fur coat, and look like a very cuddly
teddy-bear.
Classification:DBDG
Planet:Orligia
Species:Orlig, Orligian
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Individuals:Grawlya-Ki/Grulyaw~Ki, Surgeon-Lieutenant Krach-Yul,
Major Sachan-Li, Colonel Shech-Rar, Surgeon-Lieutenant Turragh-Mar
Like the neighboring Nidians, Orligians resemble an Earth-hu-man
child's first non-adult friend's teddy bear.
Classification:DBLF
Planet:Ia
Species:Ian (pre-adolescent)
No Individual Narnes Known
The being appears ring-shaped, rather like a large balloon tire.
Overall diameter of the ring is about nine feet, with the thickness
between two and three feet. The tegument is smooth, shiny and grey
in color where it is not covered with a thick, brownish
incrus-tation. The brown stuff, which covers more than half of the
total skin area, looks cancerous, but may be some type of natural
cam-ouflage. There are five pairs of limbs, and no evidence
ofspecial-ization. No visual organs or means of ingestion can be
seen. The being isn't a doughnut, but possesses a fairly normal
anatomy of the DBLF type~a cylindrical, lightly-boned body with
heavy musculature. The being is not ring-shaped, but gives that
impres-sion because for some reason, known best to itself, it has
been try-ing to swallow its tail. Senior Physician Conway, convinced
all along that the patient is undergoing a natural metamorphosis,
observes that the new patient, after the process is complete, is of
classifica-tion GKNM.
Classification:DBLF
Planet:Kelgia
Species:Kelgian
Individuals:Patient Henredth, Senior Physician Karthad, Charge Nurse
Kursedd, Diagnostician Kursedth, Patient Morredeth, Charge Nurse
Naydrad, Fleet Commander Roonardth, Charge Nurse Segroth,
Diagnostician Suggrod, Student Nurse Tarsedth, Diagnostician Towan,
Senior Physician Yarrence
Probable Individual:Charge Nurse Kursenneth
Kelgians are warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing, multipedal, and with a
long, flexible cylindrical body covered overall by highly mobile,
silvery fur. The Kelgian forelimbs have three digits. There are
twenty sets of short, thin, and not heavily muscled walking limbs.
The feet, which have no toe-nails or other terminations, are like
small, hard sponges.The fur moves continually in slow ripples from
the conical head right down to the tail. These are completely
involuntary movements triggered by its emotional reactions to
outside stimuli. The evolutionary reasons for this mechanism are not
clearly understood, not even by the Kelgians themselves, but it is
generally believed that the emotionally expressive fur comple-ments
the Kelgian vocal equipment, which lacks emotional flex-ibility of
tone.The movements of the fur make it absolutely clear to another
Kelgian-what a Kelgian feels about the subject under discussion. As
a result they always say exactly what they mean be-cause what they
think is plainly obvious-at least to another Kelgian.They can not do
otherwise. Kelgians have an intense aver-sion towards any surgical
procedure which would damage or dis-figure its most treasured
possession, its furs. To a Kelgian the re moval of a strip or patch
of fur, which in their species represents ~ means of communication
equal to the spoken word, is a personal tragedy which all too often
results in permanent psychological damage. A Kelgian's fur does not
grow again and one whose pelt is damaged can rarely find a mate
because it is unable to fully display its feelings. Kelgians are
very close to Earth-humans in both basic metabolism and temperament.
Except for the thin-walled, narrow casing which houses the brain,
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the DBLF species has no boney structure. Their bodies are composed
of an outer cylinder of mus-culature which, in addition to be being
its primary means of loco-motion, serves to protect the vital organs
within it. To the mind of a being more generously reinforced with
bones, this protection is far from adequate. Another severe
disadvantage in the event of in-jury is its complex and extremely
vulnerable circulation system; the blood-supply network which has to
feed the tremendous bands of muscle encircling its body runs close
under the skin, as does the nerve network that controls the mobile
fur. The thick fur of the pelt gives some protection here, but not
against chunks ofjagged-edged, flying metal. An injury which many
other species would consider superficial could cause a DBLF to bleed
to death in min-utes. Kelgians are herbivorous.
Classification:DBPK
Planet:Dwerla
Species:Dwerlan
No Individual Names Known
A warm-blooded oxygen-breathing herbivore that does not walk
upright. Judging by the shape of the spacesuits, the beings are
flat-tened cylinders about six feet long with four sets of
manipulatory appendages behind a conical section which is probably
the head, and another four locomotor appendages. Apart from the
smaller size and number of appendages, the beings physically
resemble the Kelgian race. The pointed, fox-like head and the thick,
broad-striped coat make it look like a furry, short-legged zebra
with an enormous tail. These beings seem not to possess natural
weapons of offrnce or defense, or any signs of having had any in the
past. Even their limbs are not built for speed, so they can not run
from danger. The set used for walking are too short and are padded,
while the fotward set are more slender, less well-muscled and end in
four highly flexible digits which don't possess so much as a
fingernail among them. There are the fur markings, of course, but it
is rare that a life-form rises to the top of its evolutionary tree
by camou-flage alone, or by being nice and cuddly. The species has
two sexes, male and female, and the reproductive system seems
relatively nor-mal. Both sexes use a water soluble dye to enhance
artificially the bands of color on their body fur~clearly the dyes
are for cosmetic reasons. The immature do not use dyes, but use a
brownish pig-ment on a bare patch above the tail.
Classification:DCNF
Planet:Sommaradva
Species:Sommaradvan
Individual:Trainee Cha Th rat
Four Ambulatory limbs; Four waist-level heavy manipulators; and a
set of manipulators for food provisions and fine work encircling the
neck. This being has two stomachs. Sommaradvan society is stratified
into three levels~serviles, warriors, and rulers~which strictly
govern how an individual acts within the society.
Classification:DCSL
Planet:Cromsag
Species:Cromsaggar
No Individual Names Known
This species has three sets of limbs: two ambulators, two medial
heavy manipulators, and two more at neck level for eating and to
perform more delicate work. It has a cranium covered by thick, blue
fur that continues in a narrow strip along the spine to the
vestigial tail.
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Classification:DHCG
Planet:Wemar
Species:Wem
Individuals:First Hunter Creethar, Hunter Druuth, Youth Evemth,
First Cook Remrath, First Teacher Tawsar
The Wem life-form is a warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing species with
an adult body mass just under three times that of an Earth-human
and, since Wermar's surface gravity is one point three eight
standard Gs, a healthy specimen is proportionately well-muscled. It
resembles the rare Earth beast called a kangaroo. The differences
are that the head is larger and fitted with a really ferocious set
of teeth; each of the two short forelimbs terminate in six-fingered
hands possessing two opposable thumbs, and the tail is more massive
and tapered to a wide, flat triangular tip composed of immobile
osseous material enclosed by a thick, muscular sheath. The
flattening at the end of tail serves a threefold purpose: as its
principal natural weapon, as an emergency method of fast locomotion
while hunting or being hunted, and as a means of transporting infant
Wem who are too small to walk. The Wem hunt by adopting an awkward,
almost ri-diculous stance with their forelimbs tightly folded, their
chins touch-ing the ground, and their long legs spread so as to
allow the tail to curve sharply downwards and forwards between the
limbs so that the flat tip is at their center of balance. When the
tail is straight-ened suddenly to full extension, it acts as a
powerful third leg ca-pable of hurling the Wem forward for a
distance of five or six body lengths. If the hunter does not land on
top of its prey, kicking the creature senseless with the feet before
disabling it with a deep bite through the cervical vertebrae and
underlying nerve trunks, it piv-ots rapidly on one leg so that the
flattened edge of the tail strikes its victim like a blunt, organic
axe. While the tail is highly flexible where downward and forward
movement is concerned, it cannot be el-evated above the horizontal
line of the spinal column.The back and upper flanks are, therefore,
the Wem's only body areas that are vul-nerable to attack by natural
enemies, who must also possess the el-ement of surprise if they are
not to become the victim.
Classification:DRVJ
Species:Name Unknown
Individual:Doctor Yeppha
Planet:Unknown
A small, tripedal, fragile being. From the furry dome of its head
there sprout singly and in small clusters, at least twenry eyes.
Classification:DTRC
Species:Rhum
Planet:Unknown
Individual:Crelyarrel
Flat, roughly circular beings, dark gray and wrinkled on one
sur-face, and with a paler, mottled appearance on the other, smooth,
surface. The beings attach to their FGHJ hosts with thick tendrils
growing from the edge of the disk. The tendrils penetrate into their
FGHJ hosts' spinal columns and rear craniums. The DTRCs have their
own special needs that in no way resemble those of their hosts,
whose animal habits and undirected behavior are highly repugnant to
them. It is vital to the DTRCs continued mental well-being that the
masters escape periodically from their hosts to lead their own
lives~usually during the hours of darkness when the tools are no
longer in use and can be quartered where they can not harm
them-selves.
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Classification:DTSB
Planet:Traltha
Species:Tralthan
No Individual Names Known
Apparent typographical error for Classification OTSB.
Classification:EGCL
Planet:Duwetz
Species:Dewatti
No Individual Names Known
A warm-blooded, oyxgen-breathing life-form of approximately twice
the body weight of an adult Earth-human. Visually it re-sembles an
outsize snail with a high, conical shell which is pierced around the
tip where its four extensible eyes are located. Equally spaced
around the base of the shell are eight triangular slots from which
project the manipulatory appendages. The carapace rests on a thick,
circular pad of muscle which is the locomotor system. Around the
circumference of the pad are a number of fleshy pro-jections,
hollows and slits associated with its systems of ingestion,
respiration, elimination, reproduction, and nonvisual sensors. The
EGCLs are organic empaths. They are organic transmitters,
reflec-tors and focusers and magnifiers of their own feelings and
those of the beings around them. The faculty has evolved to the
stage where they have no conscious control over the process.
Classification:ELNT
Planet:Melf Four
Species:Melfan
Individuals:Maintenance Technician Dremon, Senior Physician Edanelt,
Diagnostician Ergandhir, Patient Kennonalt, Patient KIetilt,
Maintenance Technician Kiedath, Nurse Lontallet, Senior Physician
Medalont, Senreth
Melfans are large, low slung crab-like crustaceans. The six thin,
bony, tubular, multi-jointed legs project from slits where the bony
carapace and underside join. The legs and all of the body are
ex-oskeletal. The head has large, protruding, vertically-lidded
eyes, enormous mandibles, and pincers projecting forward from the
place where ears should be. Two long, thin and fragile feelers grow
from the sides of the mouth. The species is amphibious.
Classification:EPLA
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name Unknown
Individual:Lonvellin
Apparent typographical error for Classification EPLH.
Classification:EPLH
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name Unknown
Individual:Lonvellin
The being is large, about one thousand pounds mass, and resembles a
giant, upright pear. Five thick, tentacular appendages grow from the
narrow head section and a heavy apron of muscle at its base gives
evidence of a snail-like, although not necessarily slow, method of
locomotion. The being is warm-blooded and has fairly normal gravity
requirements. Five large mouths are situated below the root of each
tentacle, four being plentifully supplied with teeth and the fifth
housing the vocal apparatus. The tentacles themselves show a high
degree of specialization at their extremities: three of them are
plainly manipulatory, one bears the patient's visual equipment, and
the remaining member terminates in a horn-tipped, boney mace. The
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head is featureless, being simply an osseous dome housing the brain.
The cranium is pierced at regular intervals for visual, aural and
olfactory sensors. Their life-span, lengthy to begin with, is
ar-tificially extended. Because they have tremendous minds, they
have plenty of time, but they constantly have to fight against
boredom. Because part of the price of such longevity is an
ever-growing fear of death, they need to have their own personal
physicians~no doubt the most efficient practitioners of medicine
known to them-constantly in attendance.
Classification:FGHJ
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name Unknown
No Individual Names Known
The being has six limbs, four legs and two arms, all very heavily
muscled, and is hairless except for a narrow band of stiff bristles
running from the top of the head along the spine to the tail, which
seems to have been surgically shortened at an early age. The body
configuration is a thick cylinder of uniform girth between the fore
and rear legs, but the forward torso narrows towards the shoulders
and is carried erect. The neck is very thick and the head small.
There are two eyes, recessed and looking forward, a mouth with very
large teeth, and other openings that are probably aural or olfactory
sense organs. The legs terminate in large, reddish-brown hooves.
Each hoof has four digits and does not appear particularly
dexterous. This creature serves as a host to beings of
Classification DTRC.
Classification:FGLI
Planet:Traltha
Species:Tralthan
Individuals:Patient Cossunallen, Crajarron, Chief Dietitian
Gurronsevas, Patient Horrantor, Senior Physician Hossantir,
Surriltor, Senior Diagnostician-in-Charge of Pathology Thorn-nastor
A massive entity with an osseous dome housing its brain, six
el-ephantine feet connected to its triple massive shoulders, and
four extensible eyes on an immobile head. Its six stubby legs
normally give the Tralthan species such a stable base they
frequently go to sleep standing up. Even healthy Tralthans have
great difficulty get-ting up again if they fall onto their sides.
Tralthans must not be rolled onto their backs under normal gravity
conditions since this causes organic displacement which would
increase their respira-tory difficulties. Standard gravity at Sector
General is just over half Tralthan normal. Tralthans are
vegetarians.
Classification:FOKT
Planet:Goglesk
Species:Gogleskan
Individuals:Healer '(hone and child
The Gogleskan FOKT resembles a large, dumpy cactuslike plant whose
spikes and hair are richly colored in a pattern which seems less
random the more you look at it. A faint smell comes from the entity,
a combination of musk and peppermint. The mass of un-ruly hair and
spikes covering its erect, ovoid body are less irregular in their
size and placing than is at first apparent. The body hair has
mobility, though not the high degree of flexibility and rapid
mo-bility of the Kelgian fur, and the spikes, some of which are
extremely flexible and grouped together to form a digital cluster,
give evi-dence of specialization. The other spikes are longer and
stiffer, and some of them seem to be partially atrophied, as if they
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were evolved for natural defense, but the reason for their presence
has long since gone. There are also a number of long, pale tendrils
lying amid the multicolored hair covering the cranial area, used for
contact telepa-thy. Its voice seems to come from a number of small,
vertical breath-ing orifices which encircles its waist. The being
sits on a flat, mus-cular pad, and it has legs as well. These
members are stubby and concertina-like, and when the four of them
are in use they increase the height of the being by several inches.
The being al50 has two additional eyes at the back of its
head~obviously this species has had to be very watchful in
prehistoric times.
Classification:FROB
Planet:Hudlar
Species:Hudlar, Hudlarian
Individuals:Patient FROB-3, Patient FROB-lO, Patient FROB-18,
Patient FROB-43, Patient FROB-1 132, Trainee FROB-61, Trainee
FROB-73, Senior Physician Garoth, Infant Patient Metiglesh
Hudlars are blocky, pear-shaped beings whose home planet pulls four
Earth gravities and has a high-density atmosphere so rich in
suspended animal and vegetable nutrients that it resembles thick
soup. Although the FROB life-form is warm-blooded and techni-cally
an oxygen-breather, it can go for long periods without air if its
food supply, which it absorbs directly through its thick but highly
porous tegument, is adequate. Hudlars are massive six legged
be-ings. Each leg is an immensely strong tapering tentacle, which
ter-minates in a cluster of flexible digits, curled inward so that
the weight is born on heavy knuckles and the fingers remain clear of
the floor. The two lidless, recessed eyes are protected by hard,
trans-parent and featureless casings. Hudlars communicate using a
speak-mg membrane, which grows like a cock's comb from the top of
the head. The speaking membrane also serves as a sound sensor. The
skin resembles a seamless covering of flexible armor in appearance
and texture. Food is ingested through organs of absorption that
cover both flanks and the wastes are eliminated by a similar
mecha-nism on the underside. Both systems are under voluntary
control. Because of the physiological necessity for avoiding further
sexual contact with its life-mate, a gravid Hudlar female changes
gradu-ally into male mode and, concurrently, its life-mate slowly
becomes female. A Hudlar year after partuition the changes to both
are com-plete.The Hudlar FROBs are acknowledged to be, physically,
stron-gest life-forms of the Galactic Federation and to have the
least-pervious body tegument. Contact with chlorine is instantly
lethal to them. Hudlar blood is yellow and circulates under great
pres-sure and pulse rate. Hudlars consider their names to be their
most private and personal possession, and do not give or use their
names in the presence of anyone who is not a member of the family or
a close friend.
Classification:FSOJ
Planet:Unknown
Species:Protectors of the Unborn
No Individual Names Known
The Protector of the Unborn is a large, immensely strong life-form
that resembles aTralthan, but is less massive with stubbier legs
pro-jecting from a hemispherical carapace flared out slightly around
the lower edges. The deployment of the legs and tentacles is
simi-lar to the Hudlar FROB life-form, but the carapace is a thicker
ELNT Melfan shell without markings, and the FSOJ is plainly not
herbivorous. From openings high on the carapace sprout four
ten-tacles. Two different types of tentacles have been observed on
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dif-ferent beings: long and particularly thin tentacles which
terminate in flat, spear-like tips with serrated boney edges, and
thick tentacles terminating in a cluster ofsharp, bony projections
which make them resemble spiked clubs. The four stubby legs also
have osseous pro-jections which enable them to be used as weapons as
well. Midway between two of the tentacle openings there is a larger
gap in the carapace from which protrudes a head, all mouth and
teeth. The large upper and lower mandibles are capable of deforming
all but the strongest metal alloys. A little space is reserved for
two well-protected eyes at the bottom of deep, boney craters. A
serrated tail also protrudes from the heavily slitted carapace.
While the under-side is not armored, as is the carapace, this area
is rarely open to attack, and it is covered by a thick tegument
which apparently gives sufficient protection. In the center of this
area is a thin, longitudi-nal fissure which opens into the birth
canal. It will not open, how-ever, until a few minutes before giving
birth. The FSOJ brain is not in its skull, but deep inside the torso
with the rest of the other vital organs. It is positioned just under
the womb and surrounding the beginning of the birth canal. As a
result, the brain is compressed as the embryo grows. If it is a
difficult birth, the parent's brain is destroyed and junior comes
out fighting, with a convenient food supply available until it can
kill something for itself Senior Physi-cians Conway's first
impression was that the entity was little more than an organic
killing machine. Considering the fact that it is warm-blooded and
oxygen-breathing, and its appendages show no evidence of the ability
to manipulate tools or materials, Patholo-gist Murchison tentatively
classified it as FSOJ and probably non-intelligent. The Unborn young
of the bisexual FSOJ is retained in the womb until it is well-grown
and fully equipped to survive. The Unborn is an intelligent and
telepathic being, but loses these fac-ulties at birth.
Classification:GKNM
Planet:Ia
Species:Ian (adult)
Individual:Patient Makolli
The metamorphosed form of the adolescent DBLF life-form. The species
created a colony in this galaxy, coming from an adjoining one. The
race is oxygen-breathing and oviparous, having a long, rod-like but
flexible body, and possessing four insectile legs, ma-nipulators,
the usual sense organs, and three tremendous sets of wings. The
life-form looks something like a large dragonfly.
Classification:GLNO
Planet:Cinruss
Species:Cinrusskin
Individual:Senior Physician Prilicla
Cinrusskins are enormous, incredibly fragile flying insects, with a
tubular exoskeletal body. Six sucker-tipped pencil-thin legs, four
even more delicately fashioned, tiny, precise manipulators, and four
sets ofwide, iridescent, and almost transparent wings project form
the body. The head is a convoluted eggshell, so finely structured
that the sensory and manipulatory organs that it supports seem ready
to fall off at the first sudden movement. The eyes are large and
triple-lidded. The Cinrusskin are the Federation's only empathic
race. Cinruss has a dense atmosphere and one-eighth gravity.
Cinrusskins are sexless.
Classification:LSVO
Planet:Nallaji
Species:Nallajim
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Individuals:Kytili, Senior Physician Seldal
The species has a birdlike, fragile, low-gravity physiology, with
three legs, two not-quite-atrophied wings, and no hands at all. When
LSVOs eat, they are sickened by anything which doesn't look like
bird seed.
Classification:MSVK
Planet:Euril
Species:Eurils
No Individual Names Known
Fragile, tn-pedal, stork-like beings from a low gravity world. The
MSVK environment has dim lighting and a opaque fog for an
at-mosphere. The race is driven by an intense curiosity and hampered
by extreme caution. They are the galaxy's prime observers, and are
content to look and learn and record through their long-probes and
sensors without making their presence known. MSVKs have a low
tolerance to radiation.
Classification:OTSB
Planet:Traltha
Species:Tralthan
No Individual Names Known
Tralthan Surgeons are really two beings instead of one, a
combina-tion of FGLI and OTSB.The OTSB is a nearly mindless symbiont
which lives with its FGLI host. At first glance the OTSB looks like
a furry ball sprouting a long ponytail, but a closer look shows that
the ponytail is composed of scores of fine manipulators, most of
which incorporate sensitive visual organs. A cluster of wire-thin,
eye- and sucker-tipped tentacles sends infinitely detailed visual
in-formation to its giant host and receives instructions from the
host. The Tralthan combinations are the best surgeons the Galaxy has
ever known. Not all Tralthans choose to link up with a symbiote, but
FGLI medics wear them like a badge of office.
Classification:PVGJ
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name Unknown
Individual:Doctor Fremvessith
Apparent typographical error for Classification PVSJ.
Classification:PVSJ
Planet:Illensa
Species:Illensan
Individuals:Senior Physician Gilvesh, Charge Nurse Hredlichi,
Diagnostician Lachlichi, Charge Nurse Leethveeschi
Probable Individual:Charge Nurse Lentilatsar
Illensans are chlorine breathers with shapeless spiny bodies and
dry, rustling membranes joining the upper and lower appendages. The
body resembles a haphazard collection of oily, yellow-green,
un-healthy vegetation. The two stubby legs are covered by what look
like oily blisters. Their loose protective suits are transparent
except for the faint yellow fog of chlorine contained within. The
Illensans are generally held to be the most visually repulsive
beings in the Federation, as well as the most vain regarding their
own physical appearance. Illensans suffer digestive upsets if they
exercise after meals. Contact with water is instantly lethal to
chlorine-breathers. PVSJs are not physiologically suited to the use
of stairs and have very sensitive hearing.
Classification:QCQL
Planet:Unknown
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Species:Name Unknown
No Individual Names Known
Apparent typographical error for Classification QLCL. Senior
Phy-sician Mannen did not know there was any such beastie, but
Ma-jor O'Mara had a tape. There were two casualties of this
classifica-tion at Sector General. The operations were suit jobs,
since the gunk that the QCQLs breath would kill anything that walks,
crawls or flies, excluding them.
Classification:QLCL
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name Unknown
No Individual Names Known
Recent, and very enthusiastic, members of the Federation, this
species had never been to Sector General until the war with the
Empire. Then a small ward was prepared to receive possible QLCL
casualties. The ward was filled with the horribly corrosive fog the
QLCLs used for an atmosphere, and the lighting was stepped up to the
harsh, actinic blue which the they consider restful.
Classification:SNLU
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name: Vosan
Individual:Diagnostician Semlic
The SNLU life form requires a refrigerated life-support system for
its ultra-low-temperature environment while on the Chlorine and
Oxygen levels. A frigid-blooded methane-breather, it is most
com-fortable in an environment only a few degrees above absolute
zero. The SNLUs have a complex mineral and liquid crystalline
struc-ture. The species evolved on the perpetually dark worlds which
detached from their original solar systems and now drift through the
interstellar spaces. Physically they are quite small, averaging
one-third the body mass of a being like a Kelgian. In order to allow
contact with other, warmer, species, the SN LUs are required to wear
a large, complex, highly refrigerated life-support and sensor
trans-lation system, which requires frequent power recharge. The
scales covering the SNLU's eight-limbed, starfish-shaped body shine
coldly through the methane mist like multihued diamonds, mak-ing it
resemble some wondrous, heraldic beast. The SNLUs live and work in
the almost total silence of beings with a hypersensitiv-ity to
audible vibrations. These fragile, crystalline, methane-based
life-forms would decompose at temperatures in excess of eighteen
degrees above absolute zero and be instantly cremated if the
tem-perature rose above minus one-twenty on the temperature scale in
use in the Federation.
Classification:SRJH
Planet:Drambo
Species:Healers or Physicians or Protectors
No Individual Names Known
The Drambon Physicians are glorified leucocytes to the Drambon
Strata Creatures, treating the many independent organisms living in
and around those immense living carpets. The stupid, slow moving
Drambon Physicians stay close to the most active and dan-gerous
stretches of the Drambon shoreline. They resemble jelly-fish, so
transparent that only their internal organs are visible. A
leech-like form of life, the SRJHs seem comfortable in either air or
water. Their reactions in the presence of severe illness or injury
are instinctive. Using their spines or stings, they practice their
profes-sion by withdrawing the blood of their patients and pun fying
it of any infection or toxic substances before returning it to the
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patients' bodies. (The process repairs simple physical damage as
well.) How-ever, not all the withdrawn blood is returned. It has not
been es-tablished whether it is physiologically impossible for the
SRJH to return it all or whether the Physician retains a few ounces
as pay-ment for services rendered. A Physicians can kill as well as
cure. It can barely touch a beast, causing a predator to go into a
muscular spasm so violent that parts of its skeleton pop through the
skin. There is no evidence that they communicate verbally, visually,
tac-tually, telepathically, by smell or by any other system known to
Sector General. The quality of their emotional radiation suggests
that they do not communicate at all in the accepted sense. The
Physicians are simply aware ofother beings and objects around them
and, by using their eyes and a mechanism similar to the empathic
faculty, they are able to identi~ friend and foe.
Classification:SRTT
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name Unknown
No Individual Names Known
This physiological type is amoebic, possessing the ability to
extrude any limbs, sensory organs or protective tegument necessary
to the environment in which it finds itself. It is so fantastically
adaptable that it is difficult to imagine how one of these beings
could ever fall sick in the first place.
Classification:TLTU
Planet:Threcald 5
Species:Name Unknown
Individual:TLTU Diagnostician
A TLTU doctor breathes superheated steam and has pressure and
gravity requirements three times greater than the environment of the
oxygen levels. The local protection needed by a TLTU doctor is a
great, clanking juggernaut which hisses continually as if it is
about to spring a leak. The large protective suit resembles a
spheri-cal pressure boiler bristling with remote handling devices
and mounted on caterpillar treads, and has to be avoided at all
costs. The large size is needed to allow for heaters to render the
occupant comfortable, and surface insulation and refrigerators to
keep the vicinity habitable by other life-forms. The small TLTU
life-form inhabits a heavy-gravity, watery planet with edible
minerals, which circles very close to its parent sun. The TLTU's
blood consists of superheated liquid metal. TLTU patients are
transported in their protective spheres anchored to stretcher
carriers. These spheres emit a high-pitched, shuddering whine as
their generators labor to main-tain the internal temperature at a
comfortable, for their occupants, five hundred degrees.
Classification:TOBS
Planet:Fotawn
Species:Name Unknown
Individual:Trainee/Doctor Danalta
This being can extrude any limbs, sense organs, or protective
tegu-ment necessary to the environment or situation in which it
finds it-self. It evolved on a planet with a highly eccentric orbit,
and with climatic changes so severe that an incredible degree of
physical adapt-ability was necessary for survival. It became
dominant on its world, and developed intelligence and a
civilization, not by competing in the matter of natural weapons but
by refining and perfecting its adap-tive capability. When it is
faced by natural enemies, the options are flight, protective
mimicry, or the assumption of a shape frightening to the attacker.
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The speed and accuracy of the mimicry, particularly in the almost
perfect reproduction ofbehavior patterns, suggests that the entity
may be a receptive empath. The empathic faculty is under voluntary
control, so that the level of emotional radiation reaching its
receptors can be reduced, or even cut off at will, should it become
too distressing. With such effective means of self-protection
avail-able, the species is impervious to physical damage other than
by com-plete annihilation or application of ultrahigh
temperatures.The con-cept of curative surgery would be a strange one
indeed to members of that race. They do not require mechanisms for
self-protection, so they are likely to be advanced in the
philosophical sciences but back-ward in developing technology. When
not trying to look like some-thing else, TOBSs take the
configuration of a large, dark-green, uneven ball.
Classification:TRLH
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name Unknown
No Individual Names Known
The TRLH casualty was an ally of the Empire during that war.
Classification was aided by the fact that the patient's spacesuit
was transparent as well as flexible. The atmosphere the being
breathes is as exotic as that of the QCQLs, but can be reproduced.
The TRLH has a thin carapace which covers its back and curves down
and inwards to protect the central area of its underside. Four
thick, single-jointed legs project from the uncovered sections. It
has a large but lightly boned head, four manipulatory appendages,
two recessed but extensible eyes, and two mouths.
Classification:VTXM
Planet:Telf
Species:Telfi, Telphi
Individual:Astrogator-part Cheixic
A group-mind species whose small beetle-like bodies live by the
direct conversion of various combinations and intensities of hard
radiation. Mthough individually the beings are quite stupid, the
gestalt entities are highly intelligent. The Telfi operate in groups
as contact telepaths to pool their mental and physical abilities.
The Telfi have a spoken language as well as the telepathic faculty
used between individuals, especially members of a family gestalt.
An-other variant of the species resembles a large, terrestrial
lizard, just under five feet long from the bulbous head to vestigial
tail, with an extra set of fore-limbs growing from the base of the
neck. The only visible features are two tiny, lidless eyes and the
mouth. The four stubby walking limbs can be bent double to lie flat
against the body while the two, longer forward manipulators can
stretch forward and cross so as to allow the chin to rest on the
crossover point. The skin of a dead Telfi is pale gray with a
mottled and veined effect that resembles unpolished marble. The
color is a symptom of ad-vanced radiation starvation and a lethal
failure of the absorption mechanism. A healthy Telfi reflects no
light at all, looking like liz-ard-shaped black holes. A
healthyTelfi's temperature is below room temperature. Investigating
their ultra-hot metabolism closely is to risk radiation poisoning.
There is a fallacy among non-medics that the Telfi cannot be closely
approached or touched without the use of remotely controlled
manipulators. To live they must absorb the radiation normally
provided by their natural environment but when, for clinical
reasons, the radiation is withdrawn for several days and they are
week from their equivalent of hunger, their ra-dioactive emissions
drop to a harmless level.
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Classification:VUXG
Planet:Unknown
Species:Name Unknown
Individual:Dr. Arretapec
The VUXG resembles nothing so much as a withered prune float-mg in a
spherical gob of syrup. The species has telepathic, teleportive,
and~sort of~precognitive abilities. The precognitive ability does
not appear to be of much use because it does not work with
individuals but only with populations, and so far in the fu-ture and
in such a haphazard manner that it is practically useless.
Classification:Unknown
Planet:Drambo
Species:Farmer Fish
No Individual Names Known
The large-headed Farmer Fish are responsible for cultivating and
protecting benign growth and destroying all other growth in the
Drambon Strata Creature. Farmer Fish have stubby arms sprout-ing
from the base of their enlarged heads.
Classification:Unknown
Planet:Drambo
Species:Strata Creatures
No Individual Names Known
The largest creature on the planet Drambo~so large that at a
scoutship's suborbital velocity of six thousand plus miles per hour
it takes just over nine minutes to travel from one side of the
pa-tient to the other. The creature is so vast that it has many
indepen-dent parts performing specialized functions, such as the eye
plants, air renewal plants, Farmer Fish, Thought Controlled Tools,
and vegetable teeth. The parts can communicate via a mineral-rich
sap. The creature uses water instead of blood as its working fluid.
It is not clear if the entire creature is an animal or a plant,
there being components of both in its immense expanse. There is only
one intelligent Strata Creature on Drambo, and it is being treated
for radiation poisoning.
Classification:Unknown
Planet:Drambo
Species:Thought Controlled Tools
No Individual Names Known
Under the mental control of its user, a "tool" can assume any
use-ful shape imagined. At Sector General, one appeared as a Hudlar
type six scalpel, a medium-sized box spanner, a metallic sphere, a
miniature bust of Beethoven, a set of Tralthan dentures, and a
Hudlar food sprayer, among other things. The tools belong to the
only sentient Strata Creature on Drambo, and were used to attack the
medical and military forces attempting to treat the Strata Crea-ture
for radiation poisoning.
Classification:Unknown
Planet:Dutha
Species:Duthan
Individuals:Patient Bowab, His Excellency the Lord Scrennagle of
Dutha
Duthans have a centaur-like body. The torso from the waist up
resembles that of an Earth-human, but the musculature of the arms,
shoulders and chest are subtly different. The hands are five-digi
ted, each comprised of three fingers and two opposable thumbs. The
head is carried erect above a very thick neck, which seems
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dispro-portionately small.The face is dominated by two large, soft,
brown eyes that somehow make the slits, pro tuberan ces, and fleshy
petals which comprise the other features visually acceptable.
Classification:Unknowm
Planet:Keran
Species:Keranni
No Individual Names Known
No description given.
Classification:Unknown
Planet:Unknown
Species:Kreglinni
No Individual Names Known
No description given.
Classification:Various
Planet:Meatball
Species:CLCH/CLHG Drambon Rollers, Drambon Farmer Fish, Drambon
Strata Creatures, Drambon Thought Controlled Tools, SRJH Drambon
Healers or Physicians or Protectors
The planet was originally named by the crew of Descartes, but the
name was considered derogatory by one of the native intelligent
species. The planet is now referred to as Drambo.
CHAPTER 1
The late afternoon sun, its outlines shredded by ground-heat distortion and the
continuous toxic gales that swept the planet, wavered in and out of visibility
in the brown sky like a dull red and ragged-edged flag. When it set in a few
hours' time there would be total darkness. The moon was too dim to be seen
through the turbulent and nearly opaque atmosphere, and the stars had not been
visible from the surface for close on three centuries.
The world that was Trolann raged and stormed and stank all around them as they
paused for a moment outside the first of the series of detoxification chambers
that gave access to their underground home, because they wanted to look at the
familiar and abhorrent scenery for what would be the last time.
Their lifesuit sensors told of a film of insects and windblown spores that were
trying vainly to penetrate the superfine joints in the mechanisms that provided
ground mobility, and kept their visors clean so that they could see virtually
nothing with more clarity.
"Not a druul in sight," said Jasam. "It's safe to go in."
He pressed the activator on the first entry seal with the suit's forward
manipulator, then swept it around to indicate the dull, wavering sun, the
driving, poisonous fog and the blurred outlines of the surface extensions of
their neighbors' homes. He looked at Keet and sighed.
"We had a good life together here," he said, "and for the next few days" -he
made an attempt to lighten their mood as he went on"this hi-tech hole in the
ground will be a very happy home."
"Until we find a new one," said Keet, impatient as always when he stated the
obvious. "I'm hungry and I want us out of these things."
"Me, too," said Jasam with enthusiasm; then, in a more reasonable voice he went
on. "But there's no need to be hungry. The suit food is no worse than the stuff
in the larder. Since our final selection it's been the best available. So go
ahead and eat; that's as good a way as any of passing the decontamination time."
"No," said Keet firmly. "I want us to eat together, every chance we get while we
still can, and not separately like a couple of working colleagues. Sometimes,
Jasam, you display the ro-mantic sensitivity of, of a druul in heat."
He did not have to answer this grossest of all personal insults because they
both knew that she was joking, and that people only joked about that particular
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form of hellish Trolanni life in an attempt to hide their utter fear and
loathing for it. Besides, his answer would come later in actions rather than
words.
Neither of them made use of their built-in food supply while their suits went
through the slow, tedious, but absolutely neces-sary stages of surface cleansing
with disinfectant sprays, surface irradiation, and flash heating. Many of the
microorganic and in-sect life-forms that had recently evolved on the surface,
when given the chance to penetrate the defenses of a Trolanni house-hold, had
proved themselves capable of wiping out the occupants in a few minutes. But when
they both finally emerged into the core living quarters, they were as sure as it
was possible to be that they were free of unwanted organic company.
Jasam stood for a moment looking at Keet, or rather at the delicately contoured
head, shapely body, and short, tapering limbs of her lifesuit, while she stared
back at the taller, more ruggedly handsome, and well-muscled shape that he wore.
Pro-tective suits were invariably as well-formed and lifelike as their owners
could afford. While still young adults, Keet and himself had progressed to a
level of excellence in their field where they could afford the best. But the
people inside those realistic lifesuits were much smaller, more sickly, and,
regrettably, not nearly as beautiful as their handsome body coverings.
Outside them, however, they could touch each other with-out a cybernetic
interface diluting or crudely enhancing every tactile sensation.
With intense but controlled impatience he detached himself from the suit's
visual, aural, and tactile relays, its food and water spigots, and, even more
cautiously, from the deeply implanted waste-elimination systems. He had
extricated himself before she did, and watched her lovingly as she opened the
long, abdominal seal and struggled free like an adult newborn climbing slowly
out of its mother's womb.
Her body, as did his own, showed the areas of rash, the skin discoloration, the
pocking and scars of past skin eruptions that were the visible inheritance of
living in an environment that no longer supported their kind of life. But she
looked little different from the time he had seen her like this on their first
night of mating, and she was beautiful. When she freed herself, their beau-tiful
and handsomely proportioned lifesuits were left lying life-lessly on the floor
as they crawled eagerly towards each other.
When they had to pause for a necessary rest, they ate a meal to which Keet had
added various decorative and olfactory touches to disguise the taste of their
standard, aseptic, and machine-processed food. But the searchsuit project chief
had told them that their unsuited time together would be limited to the next
three days, and eating and resting was not what they most wanted to do together.
They tried not to talk about the project, but there were times when their
physical and emotional resistance was so low that the subject sneaked up on
them.
"I'm not complaining, mind," said Keet, "but after three days of this we won't
be at our best for the surgeons. We'll be, well, very tired."
"They won't mind that," Jasam replied reassuringly. "You weren't listening
between the lines during our last interview. Suit-insertion surgery, especially
into an experimental one of this complexity, will be a lengthy, unpleasant
procedure that requires conscious, cooperative, and relaxed subjects. Don't
worry, about it. At least we'll be in a physically relaxed condition before they
go to work on us."
Even though they were already pressed together so tightly that such a thing was
physically impossible, Keet tried to snuggle even closer. She said softly, "This
is how babies are made."
"Not for us," he replied sharply, and tried without much success for a gentler
tone as he went on. "If that had been pos-sible, if either of us had been
healthy enough and fertile, we would never have been allowed to volunteer, much
less be ac-cepted for Searchsuit Three. Instead we would have been buried more
deeply and protected behind even more detoxification chambers than we have here,
and given every comfort a mortal Trolanni could desire while teams of doctors
tried to provide the medical and psychological support that might enable the
sickly members of our poisoned species to procreate and our civiliza-tion to
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survive beyond the next few generations. The emotional feelings or otherwise of
the couples concerned for each other would not have been the prime
consideration. Survival would have been a necessity, an artificially-supported
evolutionary im-perative rather than a pleasure."
Once again Keet's expression was reflecting her impatience at being reminded of
things she had not forgotten, and he was anxious not to spoil even a moment of
their remaining touching time together.
"We would be even more debilitated than we are now," he added quickly, "but
without having as much fun."
Even though the honor of being chosen to wear a searchsuit was greater than that
previously accorded to any two members of their race, the pride they both felt
was intense, so much so that there was little room in their minds for personal
fear. But they did not speak of the project again, and neither did they look at
the container that housed the tiny, hermetically-sealed, and triple-protected
sphere with its short-duration life support into which they would climb when the
project engineers signaled that they were ready for the crew insertion. The few
hours spent in that sphere, while it was being transported under maximum
pro-tection from their home to the project surgery, would be the last they could
ever spend in physical contact with each other.
The first searchsuit had been intercepted and destroyed by the druul while it
was still in atmosphere, and the second, if it had succeeded in finding
anything, had not returned to report. Searchsuit Three was the most advanced and
technologically so-phisticated fabrication to be produced by Trolanni science
and, considering their planet's deteriorating environment and dimin-ished
resources, it would almost certainly be the last. On its suc-cess rested the
hopes of their species.
It was a suit built for the two of them and designed to cater to their physical
needs for a period far beyond their most opti-mistic projected lifetimes on
Trolanni. In it they would be in constant communication for as long as they
lived. But the suit was huge—bigger by far, and with more complex and
wide-ranging control and sensory systems, than either of its predeces-sors. So
large was it that when they wore it, they would never in their remaining
lifetimes be able to touch each other again. In spite of the greatly increased
anti-druul defenses and the sup-porting treatments provided by the project's
engineers and psy-chologists, he wondered if the dangers facing them would be
mental rather than physical.
"At least," said Keet, as if reading her mind, "we'll be able to play with our
dolls."
CHAPTER 2
The inner office of Sector General's new administrator and chief psychologist
resembled a medieval torture chamber from the history of Earth, according to the
memories of the cur-rent DBDG mind donor he was carrying. But the resemblance
was not close—partly because a collection of tastefully-chosen views of
non-terrestrial land and seascapes hung on the walls, and partly because the
torture devices were actually weirdly shaped and deeply upholstered furniture.
On these, the other-species staff that had business with Administrator
Braithwaite could sit, squat, hang, or otherwise take their ease—assuming that
whatever they had been doing had not warranted the criti-cism of the most
powerful being in the hospital.
On this occasion Prilicla's own conscience was clear, and as an empath he knew
that the same condition applied to his smartly uniformed companion, Captain
Fletcher, who was stand-ing before the big desk beside him. The emotional
radiation em-anating from the similarly Earth-human Administrator Braithwaite,
composed as it was of a strange combination of con-cern with a strong
undercurrent of urgency, was such that Prilicla knew they would not be invited
to make use of the office furni-ture. Even so, the other was for some reason
feeling hesitant about speaking.
"Sir," said the captain, glancing at Prilicla, who was hov-ering close to its
shoulder and stirring a few strands of its brown head-fur, "I was told that you
wanted to see me urgently. I met ' Senior Physician Prilicla on the way here,
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and it had received the same message. We only work together on ambulance-ship
rescue missions, so presumably you have another job for Rhabwar?"
Braithwaite inclined its head without speaking. Before its recent promotion to
administrator it had been a Monitor Corps officer like Fletcher, the principal
assistant to the then-Chief Psy-chologist O'Mara, and an outwardly imperturbable
individual who wore its uniform as if it had been born with it as a well-fitting
and wrinkle-free second skin. Now that it had resigned its commission, its
impeccably-tailored civilian clothing still gave the impression that it was
completely in control of itself and, in all physical and mental respects, ready
for inspection.
"Possibly," it said finally.
Prilicla was beginning to share the captain's growing feeling of puzzlement. He
said, "The administrator feels hesitancy, friend Fletcher. I can read emotions
but not thoughts, as you know, but I feel sure that friend Braithwaite would
prefer that we volun-teered for this particular mission."
"I understand," said Fletcher. Still looking at the adminis-trator, he went on.
"We appreciate the politeness, sir, but you must be pretty sure what our
response will be, so you would save time by simply telling us to volunteer.
Rhabwar is maintained in constant flight-readiness, as you well know. The
technical and medical crew haven't had any exercise with her for close on six
months, and if the mission is urgent. . . well, we can't hurry in hyperspace, so
the only response time we can save will be between this office and the dock and,
of course, our ship's speed in getting us out to jump distance." It hesitated
and glanced quickly to-wards Prilicla, radiating a degree of uncertainty so mild
that it was highly complimentary before it went on. "We volunteer."
Prilicla, who was far from being physically robust, belonged to a species which
considered cowardice, moral or otherwise, to be its prime survival
characteristic. The possession of a highly developed empathic faculty forced him
to be agreeable to every-one in order to keep the emotional radiation in his
immediate surroundings as pleasant as possible. He spoke with greater
hes-itation.
"Friend Braithwaite," he said cautiously, "what precisely are we volunteering
for?"
"Thank you both," said the administrator, radiating relief. It pressed a key on
its desk console and went on. "I've transferred all the available information to
your ship's computer for later study. It isn't much, and all we know for sure is
that three distress beacons have been detonated within a standard day of each
other from the same location in Sector Eighteen. As we would expect from one of
the incompletely explored areas, the first two bore radiation signatures that
were new to us as well as being signif-icantly different from each other in
signal strength and duration. The third was a Federation standard-issue beacon
belonging, we presume, to the Monitor Corps survey cruiser Terragar, which was
engaged in mapping that sector, and which must have re-sponded to the earlier
two distress beacons. Our communications people don't know what to make of those
first two beacons, if they were in fact distress beacons. That's why I hesitated
about ordering Rhabwar to take this one."
Captain Fletcher's voice and emotional radiation still re-flected the puzzlement
they were both feeling, but Prilicla re-mained silent because he could feel that
the other was about to ask the questions he himself wanted answered.
"Sir," Fletcher said respectfully, "your background is in other-species
psychology, so you may not be aware of the tech-v nical background. But if this
potted lecture is unnecessary, please tell me to shut up.
"Just as we know of only one method of traveling in hy-perspace," it went on,
"there is only one way of sending a distress signal if a major malfunction
occurs and a vessel is stranded in normal space between the stars. Tight-beam
subspace radio is
not a dependable means of interstellar communication from a ship, subject as it
is to interference and distortion from interven-ing stellar bodies as well as
requiring inordinate amounts of power to send, power which a distressed ship is
unlikely to have available. But a distress beacon doesn't have to carry
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intelligence. It is simply a nuclear-powered single-use device which broadcasts
a location signal. It is a subspace cry for help which, in a matter of a few
minutes or hours, burns itself out.
"Answering such calls for help from regions where the dis-tressed vessel is
almost certain to belong to a new, star-traveling species," it concluded, "is
the reason why Rhabwar was built. I don't understand why you are hesitating,
sir."
"Thank you, Captain," said the administrator, showing its teeth briefly in the
peculiarly Earth-human snarl that denoted amusement. "Your explanation was
clear, concise, and unnec-essary. My hesitancy is due to the fact that three
seperate distress beacons, two of them with radiation signatures that reveal a
low order of design sophistication, were released in the same area. There may be
three different and closely positioned ships out there, two of them belonging to
a new intelligent species and all of them in trouble. But my communications
specialists tell me that the first two appear to be crude devices which might
not be distress beacons at all. Instead the signals may have been the radiation
byproduct of a hyperspatial weapon of some kind. In short, they may not be cries
for help, but shouts of anger. You could find yourselves rescuing other-species
casualties who have been involved in an armed conflict. So be careful, with our
special ambulance ship as well as your own lives. That is presupposing that
Prilicla still intends to take part."
Its two recessed, Earth-human eyes were fixed on Prilicla and it was radiating
feelings characteristic of a mind that is con-cealing something as it continued.
"More important matters may require your attention here. The chief medical
officer's position on Rhabwar is one for which you are overqualified. This would
be a good time to nominate a replacement."
Prilicla had been given a legitimate, face-saving excuse for refusing a
potentially very dangerous mission, for which he was grateful; but he had also
been asked a question which, in an emergency situation like this one, required
an immediate an-swer.
He said, "My principal assistant, Pathologist Murchison, has much prior
experience in ship rescue operations and is entirely capable of replacing
me—but, if you will pardon me discussing your present emotional radiation in
front of friend Fletcher here, you are feeling unusually high levels of concern
over this mission. That being the case, I think that you would prefer me to
accept it, which I do ... Ah, I feel your relief, friend Braithwaite."
The administrator exhaled slowly, showed its teeth again, pressed a stud on the
desk's communicator, and said briskly, "Thank you. Rhabwars crew members have
now been alerted and are on their way to the ship, so I need detain you no
longer. Good luck, gentlemen."
Prilicla wasn't sure that he liked being called a gentleman when he wasn't even
an Earth-human, but he knew that the term was intended as a courtesy and that
friend Braithwaite's feelings of concern for him were strong and sincere. He
executed a steep, banking turn and flew rapidly towards the office entrance,
know-ing from long experience that no matter how fast he flew it would open in
time to let him through.
He knew that the captain would not take offense at him using his natural
advantages while traversing the six levels and intervening corridor network to
reach the ambulance ship's dock before it did, because by now all of Rhabwar's
personnel were engaged on a similar race against time rather than against each
other. Fletcher had to use his large but nimble Earth-human feet and
occasionally his voice and elbows to negotiate the crowded corridors, while
Prilicla either flew above everyone's head or scampered along the ceilings on
his six sucker-tipped legs as he met, overtook, and passed above a constant
succession of crea-tures who looked visually horrendous, beautiful, repugnant,
or
terrifying in their obvious physical strength and frightening va-riety of
natural weapons which, being civilized members of the medical fraternity, they
were rarely called on to use. Besides, all * of them were his colleagues and,
in most cases, his friends.
Not for the first time Prilicla asked himself why a fragile, delicately
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structured, insectile Cinrusskin empath had decided to spend his professional
life in Sector General, surely one of the most dangerous working environments in
the Galaxy for one of the GLNO classification, but the answer was always the
same.
Despite the fact that his every waking moment was spent in a condition of
perpetual vigilance verging on terror that would have driven the majority of his
species mad, he had discovered that this was the only place and type of work
that he wanted to be and do. Doubtless a Healer of the Mind would have talked
learnedly about deeply buried death wishes, professional maso-chism, and the
pathological need for constant danger, and would have pronounced him
psychologically abnormal if not downright insane. But then, that diagnosis would
have applied to the ma-jority of beings who had aspired to permanent positions
in the multispecies medical menagerie that was Sector Twelve General Hospital.
Considering his ability to fly unobstructed above everyone else's heads, it was
no surprise that he was the first to board Rhabwar, where he logged his presence
before moving quickly to his tiny, deeply upholstered quarters, checking that
both backup sets of his gravity nullifiers were in operation. His cabin closely
resembled the cocoonlike living quarters of his home world, and its artificial
gravity was already set to Cinruss normal, which was slightly less than
one-quarter of a standard Earth G. He stretched his wings and limbs to full
extension, then distributed them into their most comfortable position for
sleeping. Cinrusskins, fragile but physically active, needed a lot of sleep; and
he knew that nothing important would be said or done until they were many hours
into hyperspace.
A few minutes later he heard the captain coming along the
boarding-tube and climbing the central well to the control deck, closely
followed by the other three Monitor Corps officers and the members of the
medical team who collected on the casualty deck. They were complaining loudly
and bitterly at the sudden interruption to their work or recreation, but all of
the emotional radiation they emitted was of controlled excitement rather than
bitterness.
For a few moments he eavesdropped on the emotional ra-diation filtering through
to him from the casualty and control decks. They all knew that he couldn't help
doing that because it was impossible to switch off his empathic faculty, so
their emo-tional radiation was subdued, well-controlled, and, at this range,
restful. They knew better than to radiate unpleasant feelings when their boss
was trying to sleep.
CHAPTER 3
The briefing tape provided by Administrator Braithwaite had been played but not
yet discussed, and their feelings of cu-riosity, caution, and growing impatience
filled the casualty deck around him like a thick, emotional fog.
Captain Fletcher was sitting on a padded Kelgian treatment frame, flanked by
Lieutenants Dodds and Chen, the communi-cations and engineering officers
respectively, while the astrogator and current watch-keeping officer, Lieutenant
Haslam, viewed the proceedings through the control deck's vision link.
Pathol-ogist Murchison occupied the swivel seat of the diagnostic con-sole with
its back turned to the screen; Charge Nurse Naydrad had curled itself into a
furry question mark on the nearest bed; and the polymorphic Dr. Danalta sat in
the middle of the deck like a small green haystack from which it had extruded an
ear and a single stalked eye. In order to avoid even the slightest risk of
injury from sudden, unthinking movements of the others' limbs, Prilicla
maintained a stable hover close to the ceiling while they all stared at the wall
screen below him.
"As we have just seen," Prilicla said, "we will be entering what may be a unique
situation for us, and we will have to be very careful..."
We're always careful," Naydrad broke in, its mobile fur
rippling into waves of impatience and anxiety. "How careful is Very'?"
Kelgians always said exactly what they felt—because their mobile fur made their
feelings plain, at least to another member of their species—or they said nothing
at all. He was aware of all of Naydrad's feelings, spoken and otherwise, and
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ignored the question because he intended to answer it anyway.
He went on. "The information available is sparse and spec-ulative. We will be
faced with the possible recovery of survivors from two distressed ships. One
should be a normal, straightfor-ward rescue and should pose no problems because
it is the Corps' survey vessel Terragar, whose crew are Earth-human DBDGs. The
second vessel has a crew whose physiological classification is as yet unknown.
With survivors of two different species in-volved, one of which is ..."
"We assess the position at the disaster site and rescue the casualties, of
whichever species, who are in the most urgent need of attention first,"
Pathologist Murchison broke in quietly, its mind radiating the emotions of
expectation, curiosity, and con-fidence characteristic of one who is accustomed
to meeting pro-fessional challenges. "I don't see the problem, sir. This is what
we do."
"... is possibly responsible for causing the casualties on the first ship,"
Prilicla went on firmly. "Or perhaps another, undistressed vessel or vessels in
the area have caused both sets of casualties. We must prepare and organize now
for that even-tuality, beginning with a clarification of the chain of com-mand."
For several minutes nobody spoke. The level of their emo-tional radiation
increased in strength and complexity, but not to a stage where it was affecting
him physically. The three Monitor Corps officers were reacting with controlled
restraint in the face of possible danger, the feelings characteristic of the
military mind. Murchison's radiation was complex and negative, as was
Nay-drad's, but neither of them were feeling strongly enough to vo-
calize their objections. Unlike the others who were feeling minor non-specific
anxiety and uncertainty, Danalta projected the calm self-assurance of a
shape-changer who felt itself to be impervious to all forms of physical injury.
"Normally," Prilicla went on, "friend Fletcher here is in operational command of
Rhabwar until it arrives at a disaster site, after which it is the senior
medical officer, myself, who has the rank. But on this mission it may well be
that, initially at least, military tactics will be of more benefit to us than
medical exper-tise. I feel your agreement, friend Fletcher, and also that you
are wanting to speak. Please do so."
--The captain nodded. "Have you and the other medics con-sidered the full
implications of what you are saying? I realize that at present all this is pure
speculation, but in the event of our being faced with a situation of armed
conflict, difficult—and to all you medics, disagreeable decisions will have to
be taken, and orders issued by myself. If I am called on to make those
decisions, my orders will have to be obeyed without question or argument, no
matter how objectionable they will seem. This must be fully understood and
accepted by everyone right now—before, and not during or after, the event. Is
it?"
"At any space accident or surface disaster scene, that is how we obey Dr.
Prilicla," Naydrad said, its fur and feelings projecting puzzlement. "This is
normal procedure for us. Why are you stressing the obvious? Or am I missing
something?"
"You are," said the captain, its emotional radiation as well as its voice quiet
and under control, as it spoke words it was feeling an intense reluctance to
say. "This ship is unarmed, but not without weapons of defense and offense.
Lieutenant Chen."
The engineering officer cleared its breathing passages noisily and said, "For a
limited duration, no more than a few hours, our meteorite shield can be
stiffened sufficiently to give protection against shrapnel from missiles tipped
with chemical-explosive warheads. But if one was tipped with a nuclear device,
we wouldn't have a prayer."
Lieutenant Haslam, whose astrogation speciality included long- and short-range
ship handling, joined in without being asked. It said, "My tractor-pressor beam
array, which is normally used on wide focus for docking or pulling in space
wreckage for closer examination, can be modified to serve as a weapon, al-though
not a very destructive one. Providing we can control the distance of the object
and precisely match its speed, the pressor focus can be narrowed to within a
diameter of a few feet to punch a hole in the opposition's hull plating. The
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catch is that it would increase the already heavy meteorite-shield drain on our
power reserves, the shields would go down, and we'd be defenseless against
whatever form of nastiness the opposition wanted to throw at us."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," said the captain. To the others it went on, "So you can
see that we are poorly equipped for a military operation. The point I am making
is that, should we encounter a situation of armed conflict or its aftermath, I
shall assess the tactical picture and the decisions thereafter will be mine.
These will include an immediate withdrawal to the safety of hyperspace if the
action is still in progress. If not, and if there are damaged vessels in the
area which I consider incapable of threatening our ship, I shall take, but not
necessarily follow, the advice of the senior medical officer regarding the
choice of which set of survivors, if any, is to be recovered first. These should
be the Monitor Corps Earth-humans rather than the new, other-species casualties
because—"
"Captain Fletcher!" Murchison broke in, its words accom-panied by an explosion
of shock and outrage that made Prilicla feel as if he had flown into a solid
wall, an effect reinforced by the emotional reactions of the other medics. "That
is not what we do here!"
The captain paused for a moment to order its own thoughts and feelings, which
closely resembled those of its listeners, then continued quietly. "Normally, it
is not, ma'am. I was about to say that there are sound tactical and
psychological reasons for
rescuing our own people first. They at least know who and what we represent and
can furnish us with current intelligence regard-ing the situation, while the
other people will be confused, fright-ened, and probably injured aliens who will
take one look at us"
__he glanced quickly at the medical menagerie around him—
"and feel sure that we mean them harm. You must agree that it would be better to
know something about the strangers, however little, before attempting to rescue
and treat them.
"In the event," it went on, looking up at the hovering Pril-icla, "the decision
and choice may not be necessary. But if it is, the med team must be prepared to
treat the casualties in the order I designate. Is this clearly understood?"
It was, Prilicla knew, because there were no strong feelings of negation coming
from anyone, and the surrounding emotional radiation was settling down to a
level which enabled him to main-tain a stable hover. It was Naydrad, their
specialist in heavy res-cue, who broke the lengthening silence.
"If nobody has anything else to add," it said with an im-patient ripple of its
fur, "I for one want to review the medical log and space-rescue techniques.
After six months in the hospital where all the patients are neatly stretched out
in beds or whatever, one gets a little rusty."
Without saying anything else, the captain left the casualty deck, closely
followed by the two junior officers. Naydrad began running a visual summary of
Rhabwar's early missions and the often unorthodox rescue techniques involved
while recovering casualties. Murchison and Danalta joined it before the screen,
probably because it was the only thing that was moving, apart from Prilicla's
wings. Their emotional radiation was complex but firmly controlled as if they
might be holding back the urge to say something. Prilicla excused himself and
flew up the central well to his quarters so as to have the opportunity of
thinking without the close proximity of outside emotional interference—and, of
course, to give them the chance to relieve their feelings verbally. This is not
what we do here," Murchison had said.
He did not need Naydrad's viewscreen to remind him of all the things they had
done on Rhabwar, including the rules they had broken or seriously deformed,
because the memories were returning as sharp, clear, and almost tactile overlays
on the flick-ering grey blur of hyperspace outside his cabin's viewport.
Prilicla had an outstandingly good memory.
He began with the briefing on operational philosophy before the first and
supposedly routine shakedown cruise. It had been explained that over the past
century the Monitor Corps, as the Federation's executive and law-enforcement
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arm, had been charged with the maintenance of the Pax Galactica, but because the
peace they guarded required minimum maintenance, they had been given additional
responsibilities and an obscenely large budget for stellar survey and
exploration. In the very rare event that they turned up a planet with
intelligent life, they were also given responsibility for the delicate, complex,
and lengthy first-contact procedures. Since its formation, the Corps'
other-species communications and cultural-contact specialists had found three
such worlds and established successful relations with them, to the point where
they had become member species of the Federation.
But there is a tendency for travelers to meet other travelers, often in distress
and far from home. The advantage of meetings with other space travelers was that
both species were already open to the idea that intelligent and possibly
visually horrendous be-ings inhabited the stars—as opposed to contacting less
advanced, planetbound cultures, who would be much more suspicious and fearful of
the terrifying strangers who had dropped from their skies.
The trouble where the travelers were concerned was that there was only one known
system for traveling in hyperspace, and one method—the nuclear-powered distress
beacon—of call-ing for help if a catastrophe occurred that marooned the
dis-tressed ship between the stars. The result had been that many other highly
intelligent and technologically advanced species had been discovered with whom
they could not make contact because
they were nothing but dead or dying organic debris lying tangled inside the
wreckage of their starships. With the rescue ships' med-ical officers unable to
provide the required assistance to com-pletely alien life-forms, the casualties
had been rushed to Sector General, where a few of them had been successfully
treated, while the rest ended up in the pathology department as specimens whose
worlds of origin were unknown.
That was the reason why the special ambulance ship Rhab-war had been
constructed. Not only was it commanded by an officer skilled in unraveling the
puzzles presented by unique alien technology, its crew included a medical team
specialized both in ship-rescue techniques and multi-species alien physiology.
The result had been that since their ship had been commissioned, seven new
species had been contacted, and subsequently became members of the Federation.
In every case this had been accomplished—not by a slow, patient buildup and
widening of communications until the exchange of complex philosophical and
sociological concepts be-came possible, but by demonstrating the Federation's
goodwill towards newly discovered species by rescuing and giving medical or
other assistance to ailing, injured, or space-wrecked aliens.
The memories and images were returning, sharp and clear. In many of them, unlike
this time, he had not borne the clinical responsibility for rescue and treatment
because the then-Senior Physician Conway had been in charge of the medical team,
with himself assisting as a kind of empathic bloodhound whose job was to smell
out and separate the dead from the barely living casualties. There had been the
recovery of the utterly savage and non-sapient Protectors of the Unborn whose
wombs contained their telepathic and highly intelligent offspring; and the Blind
Ones, whose hearing and touch had been so sensitive that they had learned to
build devices that enables them to feel the radi-ation that filtered down to
their world from the stars they would never see, even though they had traveled
between them; and there had been the Duwetti, the Dwerlans, the Gogleskans, and
the
others. All had presented their particular clinical problems and associated
physical dangers, especially to a fragile life-form like himself who could
literally be blown away by a strong wind.
He wondered how the present-day Diagnostician Conway would have handled the
current situation, where its beloved spe-cial ambulance was in danger of
becoming a ship of war. Cer-tainly not by flying away to hide in its room.
CHAPTER 4
It was four days later. Beyond the direct-vision panel and on the main screen
that was relaying the control deck image, the flickering grey motion of
hyperspace gave a final, eye-twisting heave before dissolving into a view of
normal space. Within a few moments the relayed voice of Lieutenant Dodds on the
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sen-sors was telling them and the ship's mission recorders what they were
already seeing.
"We have emerged close to a planet, Captain," it reported crisply. "The
coloration and cloud cover suggests an atmosphere capable of sustaining
warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing life and the vegetation to support it. Two ships
are in close orbit around the planet within fifty miles of each other. One is
Terragar; the other has a configuration that is new to us. Neither is showing
serious structural damage."
"Split the screen," said the captain. "Give me maximum magnification on both.
Haslam, contact Terragar."
The casualty-deck screen blurred suddenly, then showed images of the two ships
that expanded rapidly until they touched the edges of their display areas.
"Terragar is not obviously damaged," said Dodds, contin-umg to describe what
they were seeing. "But it is tumbling slowly a pronounced lateral spin, and
there is no light from the
flight-deck canopy or the viewports. Sir, it looks like they have no power,
certainly not for attitude control___"
"Or communication," Haslam broke in. "They aren't re-sponding to our signal."
"The other ship also appears to be unlit," Dodds continued, straying, "although
that could be explained by visual hypersen-sitivity on the part of the crew. The
outer hull is intact apart from two areas amidships about three and four meters
in diameter. They are deeply cratered, which suggests the recent presence of
intense heat accompanied by explosions. There is no evidence of the fogging that
would indicate escaping air or whatever it is that they breathe. Either their
safety bulkhead seals worked very fast, or the hits they sustained were lethal
and the ship is airless and probably lifeless.
"The outer hull," it added, "shows no evidence of anything recognizable as
external weapons launchers, or of the protective covers that would conceal such
weapons. First indications, sir, are that this vessel was a victim rather than
an attacker."
Even though half the length of Rhabwar stretched between them and the emotional
radiation was attenuated, Prilicla could feel the captain coming to a decision.
"Very well," it said. "Move in. Continue trying to raise Ter-ragar. I want to
know what happened here.. .. Power room; Chen, we're now too close to the planet
to jump, so stand by for maximum thrust on the main drive. Haslam, be ready to
pull out at the first sign of anything resembling a hostile action. I'll need
the fastest possible reaction time on this."
"Understood," said Haslam.
Around them the casualty deck gave an almost impercep-tible lurch as the
artificial-gravity system compensated for the sudden application of thrust. The
repeater screen returned to showing a single, unmagnified picture of the two
ships as they grew larger with diminishing distance.
Prilicla dropped lightly to the deck, where he folded his wings and legs tightly
before pulling on his spacesuit. Murchison,
Naydrad, and Danalta were already climbing into theirs, all ra-diating minor
levels of excitement, expectation, and caution. When he had checked his own air
supply, antigravity system, and suit thrusters, he looked around at the others
in turn.
"The medical team and powered litters are standing by, friend Fletcher," he
reported.
"Thank you, Doctor," the other replied. "We are closing with Terragar now."
Prilicla began to worry. Although it was completely without weaponry, in overall
structure Rhabwar had been modeled on the Monitor Corps' heavy cruiser, a class
of vessel whose broad delta-wing configuration enabled it to be aerodynamically
ma-neuvered within a planetary atmosphere. But he was afraid that it was much
too massive for it to be capable of the small and precise movements in three
dimensions that were needed to bring it to within two hundred meters of the
distressed ship. Bearing in mind its tremendous mass and inertia, if Rhabwar
were to collide with Terragar it would sustain only superficial damage, while
the other vessel would have its hull caved in, with consequent disastrous
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injuries to its crew.
An ambulance wasn't supposed to make medical work for itself.
But there was no sign of worry or even uncertainty in the emotional radiation
that was filtering down from the control deck, so he moved to the direct-vision
panel to watch the ap-proaching planet and the two orbiting ships that were
being lit by the bright, tattered carpet of clouds, consoling himself with the
thought that his specialty was other-species medicine and not ship-handling, and
wondering what new physiological challenges awaited them.
"Still no sign of life or movement from the alien," Haslam
reported. Its voice was calm and unemotional but it and everyone else on the
control deck was radiating intense relief. "The sensors
indicate low levels of residual power from two areas amidships,
but in my opinion, not nearly enough for a weapons power-up,
and the ship appears to have been radiating its internal heat into space for
several days without any attempt to maintain living temperature levels, whatever
they are for these people. I'd say that the alien ship is a problem that can
wait, sir."
"I agree," said the captain, "but keep your eyes on it, just in case. Casualty
deck?"
"Yes, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla.
"We will be at one hundred meters and motionless with respect to Terragars
position in eleven minutes," said the cap-tain. "I realize that we will be at
extreme range for your empathic faculty, but please do your best to detect the
crew's emotional radiation, if there is any."
"Of course, friend Fletcher."
The quality of the captain's own emotional radiation belied the calmness in its
voice, otherwise it would not have wasted time and breath asking him to do the
job that he was here ex-pressly to perform. But the crew of the distressed ship
were all Earth-human DBDGs. Perhaps it had friends among them.
He watched with the other members of the team at the direct-vision panel as
their ship closed with the Monitor Corps survey vessel. Terragar was rolling, as
well as slowly pitching end over end. The canopy of the unlit control deck was
moving past them at an awkward angle which did not allow a clear view of the
interior. But for one brief moment the angle was right, and Prilicla was able to
see movement.
"Friend Fletcher," he said urgently. "I think I detected mo-tion behind the
control canopy. Nobody else down here saw any-thing or they would be emoting
about it by now. It was just a glimpse, effaces, hands, and upper bodies of at
least three Earth-humans. They are alive, but the distance is extreme for an
em-pathic reading."
"We didn't see anything, either," the captain replied, "but compared with your
GLNO sensorium, ours makes us feel as if we're wearing mittens and blindfolds.
Haslam, deploy the tractor beams and kill the spin on that ship. Position it for
a clear view
into the control canopy. Then push across a cable with a com-municator fitted
with a two-way sound-conduction pad. Land it, but gently, on the canopy. We
badly need information on this situation, and, of course, to know if anyone
needs medical atten-tion."
The misty-blue light of two of Rhabwar's tractor beams flickered out to focus on
the bows and stern of the Monitor ship, gradually reducing its spin. A moment
later a thinner beam lifted out the communicator, but held it midway between the
two ships to wait for its target to come to rest. Prilicla had a slightly longer
and clearer view of the people inside the canopy before they rolled out of
sight.
"Friend Fletcher," he said urgently, responding to feelings that she felt sure
were not all his own. "I saw four officers, that's the entire complement of a
survey vessel. They were waving at us, shaking their heads vigorously in your
DBDG non-verbal sig-nal of negation, and showing the palms of their hands. One
was pointing repeatedly in the direction of the alien ship and our communicator.
The empathic range is extreme but they are ra-diating high levels of agitation."
"I saw them, too," said the captain. "They don't appear to be seriously injured;
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they're about to be rescued and have little to feel agitated about. Still...
Haslam, is the alien ship doing anything to worry us?"
"No, sir," the lieutenant replied. "It's still dead in the water, so to speak."
Prilicla paused for a moment, nerving himself for the effort of saying something
argumentative if not disagreeable to another person whose irritated or angry
reaction would bounce back and hit him hard.
"It was their feelings I read," he said carefully. "Because of the interference
from the emotional radiation around me, theirs were difficult to define. There
was agitation, however, and it had to be intense to reach me at this distance.
May I make a sugges-tion and ask a favor?"
The captain was feeling the irritation characteristic of an entity whose ideas
and authority were being questioned, but it was quickly brought under control.
It said, "Go ahead, Doctor."
"Thank you," he said, looking around the casualty deck to indicate that his
words were for them as well. "It is this. Would you please instruct your
officers, as much as they are able, to relax mentally and avoid intensive
thinking or associated feelings? I would like to get a clearer idea of what is
bothering the Terragar crew. I am having a bad feeling about this situation,
friend Fletcher."
"And since when," said Murchison in a quiet voice that was just loud enough for
the captain to overhear it, "has a feeling of Prilicla's been wrong?"
"Do as the Doctor says, gentlemen," the captain replied promptly, pretending
that it hadn't heard. "All of you make your minds blank"—it gave a soft
Earth-human bark—"or at least blanker than usual."
All over the ship, from the control deck forward and the power room aft and from
the medical team around him, they were staring at blank walls and deck surfaces
or the backs of closed eyelids, those who had them, or were using whatever other
means they had of reducing cerebration and feeling. Nobody knew better than
himself how difficult it was to switch the mind to low alert and think of
absolutely nothing, but they were all trying.
Terragar's control canopy had rolled out of sight, but that had no effect on the
crew's emotional radiation, which was still tenuous, confused, and at a strength
that was barely readable. But without the local empathic interference the
individual feelings were gradually becoming clearer and easier to define, and
they were anything but pleasant.
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla urgently, "I feel fear and, intense negation.
For me to be able to detect them at this range, those feelings must be extreme.
The fear seems to be both per-sonal and impersonal, the latter emotion
characteristic of a being who fears a threat to others besides itself. I'm an
empath, not a telepath, but I'd say... Look, they're coming into
sight again-----"
He could see no details of the four faces other than that
their mouths were opening and closing. Their hands were ges-ticulating wildly,
sometimes pointing at the alien ship but more often towards Rhabwar and the
communicator floating at the end of its sensor cable midway between their two
vessels. Their pale, Earth-human palms were showing as they pressed them
repeat-edly against the inside of the canopy.
What were they trying to say?
"... They're pointing at the alien ship and at us," he went on quickly, "but
mostly at the communicator you're sending over. And they're making pushing
movements with their hands. Their fear and agitation is increasing. I feel sure
they want us to go away."
"But why, dammit?" said the captain. "Have they lost their senses? I'm just
trying to stabilize their ship and establish a com-municator link."
"Whatever you're doing," said Prilicla firmly, "it is making them fearful and
they badly want you to stop doing it."
One of the four gesticulating crew members had moved quickly out of sight.
Before he could mention it to the captain, Fletcher spoke again. Its voice and
the feelings that accompanied it were calm and confident with the habit of
command.
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"With respect, Doctor," it said, "the feelings you read from them make no sense,
and won't until we talk to them and they explain themselves and this whole damn
situation. We need that "formation before we can risk boarding the alien ship.
Haslam, love the communicator close and be ready to attach it when you've killed
the spin."
Please wait," said Prilicla urgently, "and consider. The other crew aren't
injured, they emote no feelings of pain or phys-cal distress, only agitation at
our close approach. So the matter clinically urgent. It will do no harm if you
move back a short
distance, temporarily, just to reassure them if nothing else. Friend Fletcher, I
have a very bad feeling about this."
He felt the captain's continuing intransigence as well as the beginnings of
hesitation as it spoke.
"I'm sorry, Doctor," it said firmly. "My first requirement is to talk to them as
soon as—"
"Sir!" Haslam broke in. "They're pulling free of our tractor beam, on their main
thrusters, for God's sake, at over three Gs. They've no attitude
control—otherwise they'd have checked their own spin by now. That's stupid,
suicidal! They're diving into atmosphere, and when they move farther ahead and
their ion stream hits us, we'll be toasted like a ..."
It broke off as the hot, blue spear streaming from the other ship's main drive
flickered and died, immediately reducing the fear feelings coming from Rhabwar's
control deck.
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla gently, "I told you that they didn't want us to
close with them, but neither do they want to kill us."
The captain used an Earth-human expression that his trans-lator refused to
accept.
"You were right, Doctor," it went on, "but we'll need to get very close to them
indeed, unless we want to watch them burn up in atmosphere."
CHAPTER 5
Terragar belonged to a class of vessel that had been designed to operate in the
weightless and airless conditions of space, and to dock only with other ships or
orbiting supply and main-tenance facilities. It was not an aerodynamically clean
object and the structural projections supporting its complex of long-range
sensors and mapping cameras made it resemble a cross between a falling brick and
a stick insect. The congenitally tactless Nay-drad observed that physically it
bore a close resemblance to their chief.
Even though he knew that his Cinrusskin body was un-usually well-formed and
beautiful, Prilicla had neither responded nor taken offense. Kelgians always
said exactly what they felt; telling a lie was for them a complete waste of
time. It was the strong, unspoken emotions of Naydrad and the others, the
feel-ings of loyalty, admiration, concern, and deep personal regard, that were
important. Besides, the crucial words and feelings were coming from the people
on the control deck.
Catch up to them and kill that spin," the captain was saying urgently. "There's
no need to be so gentle, dammit! Check all motion, refocus to full strength, and
drag them back. We have the power."
Yes, but no, sir," Haslam replied, its voice hurried but re-
spectful. "The tractor acts on the nearest surface. If we drag them back too
suddenly we'll peel off most of their outer skin and external hull structures. I
have to be gentle to avoid pulling the whole ship apart."
"Very well," said the captain. "Be gentle, then, but faster." "We're picking up
atmospheric heating," Dodd's voice re-ported; "so are they."
In the direct-vision panel Prilicla could see the ponderously spinning shape of
Terragar as the tractor beam enclosed it in a pale blue mist and drew it closer.
The tumbling action was grad-ually slowing to a stop, but both ships were
entering the upper atmosphere much too quickly for the safety of the vessel
ahead. Through the confusion of emotional radiation coming from Rhabwar he could
still feel the intense fear mixed with dogged determination emanating from the
other crew. His empathic reading just did not make sense. Not for the first
time, he wished he could know what others were thinking instead of feeling.
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"You're getting there," said the captain. "Once you kill the rest of that spin,
try to position them so they'll go in tail-first. The stern structure is
stronger than the forward section and will burn away slower than the control
canopy. Can't you slow them down faster than that?"
"In order," said Haslam. "Yes, sir. No, sir. I'm trying, sir." The other ship
was stable and directly ahead of them, with its control canopy continuously in
view. The crew had donned heavy-duty spacesuits with the helmets thrown back.
Their mouths were opening and closing widely as if they were shouting, and they
were still making pushing motions with their hands. From his present viewpoint
Prilicla could not see the heating of the ship's stern, but the peripheral
sensor arrays and their spidery support structures were turning bright red and
being bent back-wards by the tenuous gale of near-vacuum that was blowing past
them. Suddenly one of them tore free and there was a loud, metallic clang as it
glanced harmlessly off Rhabwar's superstruc-ture.
"Why don't they use their main thrusters again?" said Dodds, radiating anger and
impatience. "That would help us to
slow them down."
"I don't know," said the captain. A moment later it went
on. "Doctor, do you have any answers?"
"Yes, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "In spite of their fear and certainty of
imminent termination, they won't help you be-cause they don't want us to come
near them. I don't know why they are doing this, either, but their reasons must
be very strong."
For a moment he felt the emotional gale raging on the con-trol deck, with the
captain's mind its storm center, then it became still with the calmness
characteristic of a decision taken and a
mind made up.
"I don't know why they seem intent on suicide, Doctor," it said quietly, "but
the fact that they've put on their spacesuits suggests that they still retain
some of their will to survive. Whether they want to or not, I'm going to do my
damnedest to save them. Or are you suggesting otherwise?"
"I was not suggesting otherwise, friend Fletcher," said Pril-icla, "just warning
you about the way they are feeling. No rational person fully understands why
another intelligent being wants to commit suicide, but in every civilized
culture we have ever found, it is considered a person's bounden duty, regardless
of personal risk, to stop it from doing so."
The captain did not reply, but he felt its gratitude as it said, "Haslam, slow
them down. Be less gentle."
From the ambulance ship's position slightly above and be-hind the distressed
ship. Prilicla could see Terragar s stern section changing gradually from
metallic grey through dull red to glow-ing orange. The lattice support structure
carrying the mapping sensors were like bright yellow spiders' webs that sagged,
melted, and were blown away by the slipstream. With a dreadful cer-tainty,
Prilicla waited for Terragar to explode into a disintegrating fireball. But
incredibly, someone in Control was radiating feelings of optimism.
"Sir," said Haslam, "I think we may have done it. In a few more seconds their
speed will be slowed to the point where there will be no more atmospheric
heating beyond what they've already picked up. But they're not out of trouble
yet...."
The red-hot particles of metallic fog were no longer stream-ing back from the
other ship's superheated stern, but to Prilicla, nothing else seemed to have
changed.
"... Because," the lieutenant went on, "I estimate that in about twenty minutes
the heat from their stern will be conducted along the structure until it is
evenly distributed throughout the ship. By then the survivors will be in a bad
way."
"Then lift us out of atmosphere," said the captain. "Let the heat dissipate into
space. You're able to do that now without causing their hull to break up?"
The voices in Control were calm but the feelings behind them, as were those of
the medical team around him, were not. The emotional radiation coming from the
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people on the other ship was even worse.
"Yes, sir," Haslam replied. "But it will take an hour or more for all that heat
to radiate into space and until then it would be too hot, as well as too late,
for the rescue team to go in for them. By then they would be cooked in their own
juices if they aren't that way already."
"Please ignore the lieutenant, Doctor," said the captain quickly. "Sometimes he
has about as much tact as a drunken Kelgian. How are the survivors?"
For a moment Prilicla was silent as he watched the hot, red stain that was
creeping inexorably forwards along Terragar's hull, its progress clearly visible
in spite of the bright carpet of clouds and sunlit ocean unrolling rapidly below
it. Suddenly the despair he was feeling began to be diluted by excitement and
hope.
"They are alive," he said, "but the emotional radiation is characteristic of
beings who are fearful and in intense discomfort. I am not a ship handler,
friend Fletcher, but may I make a sug-gestion?"
"You want to try to recover them anyway," said the captain incredulously, "from
a ship that is nearly red-hot? You and your team would die in the attempt. The
answer is no."
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "I am not emotionally ca-pable of doing, or
even of thinking of doing, such a brave and stupid thing. Instead, I was about
to ask you to take both ships to the planetary surface as quickly as possible.
Our altitude is less than fifty miles above an equatorial ocean and there are
many islands, one with what looks like a sandy coastline coming over the
horizon. If we had enough time we might cool Terragar by immersion."
Lieutenant Haslam swore out loud, something Prilicla had rarely heard it do in
the presence of its captain and never while the recorders were running, and
said, "My God, it wants us to dunk them in the ocean!"
"Can we do that, Lieutenant?" said Fletcher. "Is there time?"
"There might be," Haslam replied, "but it will be close."
"Then do it," said the captain. "We'll need to reduce our rate of descent to
zero by the time we reach the surface, but to save time, hold off the
deceleration until we're a few miles above sea level. The sudden braking will
put a strain on the tractor beam, not to mention the other ship. Use your
judgment, and try not to pull it apart at this late stage. Nice idea, Doctor.
Thank you. How are the casualties?"
Friend Fletcher's gratitude, hope, and excitement were clear for Prilicla to
feel, so there had been no need for the other to express them verbally. But when
their ship was involved in a situation where anything might happen and every
incident, in-strument reading, and word were being recorded in case of an
unforeseen calamity, he knew that the captain's tidy mind would want the credit
for the idea and its gratitude to go on record.
"Still alive, friend Fletcher," he replied formally: "Their
-motional radiation indicates deep personal fear and despair but
- panic, and increasing physical discomfort. They are not vis-
to me, but the indications are that three of them are posi-
tioned closely together on the control deck, which is probably the coolest place
in the ship, and a fourth one is farther aft. The rescue team is ready to go, on
your signal."
Around him he could feel a combination of anxiety, impa-tience, and excitement
as his team checked equipment that had already been checked many times. He
remained silent because there was nothing useful he could say, and kept his eyes
on Ter-ragar and the dull red tide of color that was creeping slowly towards its
bow. He was startled when it disappeared suddenly as both ships plunged through
the dark interior of a tropical storm. A few moments later it reappeared with a
brief, overall puff of steam as the rainwater boiled off its overheated hull.
Ahead of and below them, the smooth expanse of sunlit water was expanding and
showing the first wrinkling of the larger waves. There was no feeling of
deceleration because Rhabwar's artificial gravity system was maintaining the
customary one-G, but Terragar was feeling it. Two small areas of the other
ship's hull plating bulged outwards suddenly under the double pull of
deceleration and the tractor beam, but they didn't peel away. By now their speed
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was being measured in tens rather than hundreds of miles per hour.
"This hasn't been what I'd call a covert approach to a newly discovered planet,"
said the captain, radiating sudden anxiety, "but we had no other choice. Did you
scan for intelligent-life signs?"
"Briefly, sir, on the way down," said Haslam, "but the sen-sors are on record
for later study. They report zero atmospheric industrial pollutants, no traffic
on the audio or visual radio fre-quencies, and no indications of intelligent
life. Altitude, five hun-dred meters and descending. The coastline of the island
ahead is coming up."
"Right," said the captain. "Check forward velocity to put us down no more than
three hundred meters offshore, and it will save a few minutes if there's a nice,
even seabed under us."
"There is," said Haslam. "The sensors indicate hard-packed sand with no reefs or
rock outcroppings."
"Good," said Fletcher. "Power room, in five minutes we'll be supporting two
ships. I'll need maximum power for the stilts."
"You'll have it," said Lieutenant Chen.
Their forward motion ceased as they dropped slowly to within five hundred meters
of the waves, which were high and smooth and rounded so that each one seemed to
throw back reflections of the sun. Against that continually moving dazzle, the
red coloration of Terragar s hull had darkened almost to a normal, metallic
grey, but the emotional radiation from its offi-cers belied the appearance of
normality.
The medical team, already suited-up and sealed, were watching him and the tremor
that was shaking his limbs. He felt Pathologist Murchison's sympathy. It was
wanting to talk and to help him—probably by trying to take his mind off the
casualties by giving it something more cerebral to think about—but when it
spoke, the subject remained the same.
"Sir," Murchison said, "earlier you said that their emotional radiation
indicated that they were physically unharmed. Was there evidence of any
psychological abnormality present? Why would they try deliberately to commit
suicide rather than let us near them? By now they will have sustained overall
burns or, if they kept their suits sealed and their cooling units at maximum,
massive dehydration and heat prostration. But with respect, sir, there has to be
something more wrong with them. What else can we expect?"
"I don't know, friend Murchison," Prilicla replied. "Re-member, there was no
suicidal intent, just extreme determination not to let us approach their ship.
They tried very hard to get away from us, but it was the attitude of their ship
which took them into atmosphere, and that was accidental."
It was a guess rather than anything as definite as a feeling, out he was
wondering if there might be something, or perhaps
someone, on their ship who was no longer living, that they had not wanted
Rhabwar's crew to go near. He kept that thought to himself, and the pathologist
rejoined the general silence until it was broken by the captain.
"Deploy the stilts," it said. "Drop them in, but gently. Im-merse them for five
minutes."
Rhabwar was now positioned directly above the other ship and holding it
horizontally above the ocean with a single tractor beam. Suddenly four more
speared out in pressor mode, widely angled so that the ship was supported by a
pyramid of misty-blue stilts that penetrated and pushed aside the water to rest
solidly on the seabed. Terragar dropped gently towards the waves.
There was a tremendous explosion of steam and outflowing streamers of boiling
water as it touched and then slipped below the surface. Everything was
obliterated by a dazzling white fog for the few minutes it took for the strong,
onshore breeze to blow it clear. But there was nothing to see except a large
circle of boiling and bubbling ocean.
"Pull them up," said the captain.
The ship that rose into view was barely recognizable as Ter-ragar. Steam and
furiously boiling water were streaming out of the large gaps in the hull plating
and where the entire control canopy had burst open. It looked as if the tractor
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beam was holding the ship not only up, but in one piece. Prilicla answered the
question before the captain could ask it.
"They are still inside, friend Fletcher," he said, "but deeply unconscious and
close to termination. We need to get to them, now."
"Sorry, Doctor," said the captain, "but not right now. Our sensors say that
their hull interior is still too hot for your people to survive it, much less
recover casualties. Haslam, submerge them again, this time for ten minutes."
Once again the other ship was immersed, but this time it seemed the sea above it
was steaming rather than boiling. The emotional radiation of the casualties
remained unchanged. When
Terragar reappeared this time, the water running down its sides and pouring from
the gaps in its hull was, according to the sen-sors, very warm rather than hot,
and no longer a threat to the rescue team.
"Instructions, Doctor?" said the captain.
Plainly the other was feeling that their situation no longer contained a
military threat and was immediately passing the op-erational responsibility back
to the senior medical officer on site.
"Friend Fletcher," he said briskly, "please move the wreck towards the beach and
place it in the shallows at a depth that will not inconvenience us but where the
wave action will continue to cool it. We'll board with four antigravity litters
while friend Murchison remains with you to supervise the transfer and erec-tion
of our field dressing station and the special equipment we may need. The
casualty deck will be reserved for the recovery of the possible other-species
survivors in orbit. As quickly as pos-sible, use your tractor beam to position
the unit's structures, friend Murchison, and its equipment onshore within one
hun-dred meters of the wreck. Land Rhabwar farther inland at a min-imum distance
of three hundred meters. Should you need to take off or change position for
operational reasons, you must not approach the medical station or the wreck any
closer than that from any direction until instructed otherwise."
The captain was radiating puzzlement, feelings shared by everyone else on the
ship, as it said, "This is ridiculous, Doctor. Surely you are being
unnecessarily cautious about an unpowered and helpless wreck."
Prilicla paused for a moment. When he spoke, he tried to sound resolute and
inflexible, which was very difficult for a Cin-nisskin empath even when he was
carrying mind-partners of a more heavyweight and psychologically positive
species.
When we approached it in orbit," he said, "Terragar used its last reserves of
power to move away from us. Its crew were willing to die rather than allow our
ship, or perhaps our crew members, to make physical contact with them. The
rescue team will shortly be making physical contact with them, with extreme
caution, naturally. But until we discover the medical, psycholog-ical, or other
reasons behind their apparently suicidal or self-sacrificing action, I am
expressly forbidding Rhabwar to do so."
CHAPTER 6
Sunlight shone through the ragged-edged hole where the control-room canopy had
been. The heat-discolored instru-mentation that the water had not already swept
into tangled heaps on the deck showed dead, blank readouts. The remains of the
four control couches were empty, with faintly steaming water flowing slowly
between their support struts as it ran away through cracks in the ruptured deck.
But life was present, and even though it was difficult to detect through the
welter of emo-tional radiation coming from the rest of the team, he knew that it
was close by.
"Naydrad, Danalta," he said urgently, "please subdue your feelings. You're
muddying the emotional waters."
A moment later he pointed towards a group of four tall cabinets set into the aft
bulkhead. Heat deformation had twisted one of the doors slightly open while the
others looked as if they had been fused shut. They were the standard ship
furniture that contained the crew's spacesuits Now they contained the crew as
well, because their structures had given an extra layer of protec-tion against
the heat.
For some reason these people had been willing to die, Pril-
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, a reminded himself again, but they had also wanted badly to live.
Quickly, Naydrad sliced off the four doors with its cutting torch. Only three of
the cabinets were occupied, because earlier one of the officers had gone aft to
start the main thrusters man-ually when the ship had made its desperate attempt
to pull away from Rhabwar. But there was too much local emotional radiation for
him to be able to detect accurately the fourth man's distance or position. He
could feel, although the source was so faint that it might have been a hope
rather than a feeling, that the fourth officer was still alive. But there was no
time to go looking for it now because the other three needed immediate
attention. Nay-drad and Danalta were already removing them from the cabinets. He
tried to look at their faces, but the inside of the visors were steamed up and
the suits were hot to the touch.
"Finish transferring them to the litters," he said, moving closer to lay his
hand gently on each of them in turn, "then remove the spacesuits and all body
coverings. Friend Murchison, the vision pickups are running. Are you seeing
this, and are you ready to receive casualties?"
"Yes, sir," it replied. "Rhabwar has lifted over the prefab-ricated med station,
myself, and the Earth-human burn medi-cation onto the beach above the high-water
mark. Until now I was too busy even to notice if this world had a moon and
tides. It does. I'll be ready to take the casualties in fifteen minutes. Have
you a preliminary assessment for me, sir?"
Prilicla flew slowly over the three Earth-humans. Rapidly but very gently, their
suits and underlying garments, apart from the small areas of scorched clothing
still adhering to the bodies, were being cut away by Naydrad and Danalta. The
Earth-humans were too deeply unconscious for their emotional radiation to
trouble him, but the mere thought of what they must have suf-fered before they
had reached that state was enough to make his hovering flight less than stable.
In the hospital he had seen Chief Dietitian Gurronsevas produce synthetic meat
dishes that were less well-cooked.
"All three casualties are suffering from advanced heat pros-
tration and massive dehydration," Prilicla replied in a clinical voice that
belied his underlying feelings. "Undoubtedly this fol-lowed the overload and
apparent recent failure—very recent, otherwise the casualties would have
terminated by now—of their suits' cooling systems. There is localized surface
and subdermal burning, with escharring in several areas to a depth of two
cen-timeters, where the internal metal stiffening of the suits made contact
through the clothing, or the wearer lost consciousness and allowed the front or
side of its cranium to fall against the heated interior of the helmets. There
are third-degree burns to the hands, feet, and crania, plus a narrow band
encircling the waist, with an estimated total body area of ten to fifteen
percent. "Interim treatment will be to place the casualties into in-dividual
litters," he went on, giving the information friend Mur-chison needed while at
the same time issuing polite instructions to the two team members working beside
him, "with the canopies sealed and the refrigeration units reducing the ambient
temper-ature. Rehydration is a matter of urgency but must wait until your
facilities are available. Friend Naydrad will convey the three litters to you
and assist while I..."
"Then the fourth officer terminated?" it broke in softly. "Perhaps not," he
replied. "I have a feeling, very tenuous and more likely only a wish, that it is
still alive somewhere aft. Friend Danalta will remain here to help me find it."
Even at one hundred meters distance he could feel Mur-chison's sudden burst of
negativity and deep concern.
Sir," it said, "the captain has just informed me that the continuous strain on
the fabric of that ship caused by the braking action of the tractor beam,
together with the atmospheric buffeting during reentry, will have converted the
interior into a heap of wreckage that could collapse at any time. As well, the
hull temperature at the stern is still unacceptably high for would-be rescuers.
You will be at serious risk and may wish to reconsider your recent decision. I
suggest you send Naydrad with Danalta
to recover the missing casualty ..."
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Well," said the Kelgian, its fur rippling under the protective garment, "isn't
it nice to be considered expendable?"
". .. while you bring in the other litters," it went on. "From the condition of
the first three, it looks as though your surgical experience will be urgently
required here."
"I agree, friend Murchison," said Prilicla. "But if Danalta or Naydrad found the
fourth crew member, neither of them would be able to know whether they were
recovering an uncon-scious or dead casualty without removing its suit, which
would be contraindicated in the high temperature levels aft. You know very well
that only I can feel and specify at a distance whether it is a casualty
requiring urgent attention, or a cadaver that can await recovery at more
convenient time."
He moved to the fourth litter and climbed inside, sealing the pressure canopy
behind him for maximum protection before signaling with a forward manipulator
for Danalta to proceed aft.
"Please refrain from going into maternal mode, friend Mur-chison," he added. "I
promise to be very careful."
The situation aft was much worse than he had expected with an almost solid plug
of wreckage barring their way. Atmospheric heating and the tractor-beam stresses
had caused the interior hull plating to buckle and open up so that ragged, metal
edges pro-jected into their path and opened wide cracks that allowed long,
uneven triangles of daylight to show through. He could feel the buildup of heat
even through the litter canopy and his own suit's laboring cooling system. But
Danalta, as it had done on many previous rescue operations, was proving once
again that its pol-ymorphic species was the closest thing to a general-purpose
or-ganic tool in the known universe.
His limbs were showing a faint tremor which his polymor-phic friend had noticed,
but was forbearing to mention, because the emotional radiation causing it was
due to Prilicla's own cow-ardice.
It was a terrible psychological burden to be afraid all the time, of everything
and everybody, and of the harm that might be done him by accident or intention.
But there were compen-sations. A life-form with hostile intent could not hide
its feelings towards him, so he could either take evasive action or, if it was
intelligent, try to change the other's hostility to feelings of dis-interest or
even friendship towards him. As a matter of pure survival as well as to secure a
pleasant emotional environment for himself, he had made many good and protective
friends. But there was nothing he could do about stupid pieces of sharp-edged,
inanimate matter except try to avoid them.
There was another ship's officer to find, if it was still alive and emoting.
Prilicla tried to allay his own fear and widen his empathic range while he
followed and coordinated his litter's movements with those of the shape-changer.
Danalta was always a minimal source of emotional interfer-ence because it rarely
encountered situations that caused it to have unpleasant feelings, and it was
never afraid because noth-ing—short of a major explosion, or being crushed
between two closing faces of massive colliding objects—could harm it. Now it was
opening a path through the hot, steaming devastation by extruding appendages of
the length, shape, and strength neces-sary to move obstacles aside or, with the
whole of its body, taking shapes that it was better not to think about as it
used itself as an organic pit prop that lifted masses of tumbled wreckage in
order to enable the litter to go through.
Fotawn, the planet where Danalta's species had evolved, had been one of the
least hospitable worlds to be discovered by the Galactic Federation. It had a
highly eccentric orbit and conse-quent climatic variations so severe that an
incredible degree of physical adaptability had been necessary for its flora and
fauna to survive on a world of animal and vegetable shape-changers. Danalta's
people, its dominant life-form, were of physiologyical classification TOBS. They
had developed intelligence and an advanced civilization based on the
philosophical rather than the Physical sciences, not by competing in the matter
of natural weapons but by refining and perfecting their adaptive capabilities.
In prehistoric times, when members of the species were faced with stronger
natural enemies, their defensive options in order of preference had been
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protective mimicry, flight, or the adoption of a shape frightening to the
attacker. The speed and accuracy of the mimicry suggested the possession of a
high degree of recep-tive empathy of which the species was not consciously
aware.
With such effective means of physical adaptability and self-protection
available, the species was impervious to disease and normal levels of physical
injury, so that the concepts of curative medicine and surgery had been
completely incomprehensible to its people. In spite of this, Danalta had applied
for and been accepted at Sector General for medical training.
Danalta's purpose in coming to the hospital, it had insisted, had been selfish
rather than idealistic. The sixty-odd different life-forms who worked there were
a unique and continuing chal-lenge to its powers of mimicry. Admittedly, it was
being forced into using all of its polymorphic abilities—to reassure beings who
might be suffering from serious physical or psychological mal-functions, by
mimicking their shape and vocal output if there were no members of their own
species present to give reassur-ance; or, in an accident situation with
associated toxic pollution, it could adapt its shape and tegument quickly so
that urgently required treatment would not be delayed because of time wasted in
donning protective garments; or during surgery it could ex-trude limbs and
digits of the indicated shape and function which were capable of quickly
repairing damage to otherwise inacces-sible areas where organic damage or
dysfunction had occurred. But it was simply reacting to a challenge that no
shape-changer of its race had ever faced before and, while it was deriving much
pleasure from the experience, it was not and should not be called a doctor.
In turn, the hospital authorities had insisted, gently but very firmly, that if
it planned to continue doing that kind of work at Sector General, there was
nothing else they could call it.
"Sir," said Danalta suddenly, bringing his mind back to present time and space,
"we've reached the power room. The ambient temperature is unacceptably high for
an unprotected Earth-human DBDG, but the structure here is robust and less
likely to collapse on us. You may safely leave the litter. I'm trying reduce my
emotional radiation. Can you feel the casualty?"
"No," said Prilicla; then immediately contradicted himself.
"Yes."
It was a feeling almost without feeling, a mere expression of individuality and
existence that was characteristic of an entity very close to termination. It was
tenuous with extreme weakness or distance or both. Before signaling to move
farther aft, he looked quickly around the room. It, too, had been cracked open,
but compared with the wreckage-strewn compartments they had already passed
through, this one was almost neat except for an untidy heap of tools that looked
as if they had been thrown hap-hazardly onto the deck in front of a low, closed
metal cabinet. Perhaps someone had been urgently in need of shelter.
"In there," he said, pointing and moving quickly towards it. As they forced open
the cabinet there was a sudden explo-sion of black, oily vapor from the sponge
plastic lining that had been melted by the heat, but the casualty's suit was
still intact so it had not breathed any of the highly toxic gas. Inside they
found the fourth officer on its knees and bent almost double. Without trying to
straighten the body they quickly lifted the spacesuited figure onto the litter
and laid it on its side. Apart from the deep red coloration, the details of the
face were blurred by internal condensation. The emotional radiation suggested a
life expec-tancy that could be measured in minutes rather than hours.
Friend Danalta," he said, glancing back at the way they had come, this
casualty is close to termination and the temperature here means that we can't
afford the time or the risk of opening its suit. Please look for a faster way
out of here. Try to find an opening in the hull large enough to allow the litter
through so we can ..."
"Doctor," the voice of the captain broke in, "we can make that opening for you,
as large as you need. I've been monitoring your progress, I'm familiar with the
ship's layout, and I know exactly where you are. Please move clear of the hull
on the land-ward side and hold on to something solid.
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"Haslam," he continued quickly, "tractor beam, narrow-focus rapid push-pull to
the aft hull plating, just there."
The whole power room began to vibrate in sympathy around them as a sudden,
metallic screeching sound came from a small area of the hull interior. The
existing cracks in the struc-ture opened up as a large section of plating and
internal trim was pulled outwards and pressed inwards at a rate of once a
second. For a moment the plating fluttered like a metal flag in a high wind
before it was whipped out of sight. Sunlight poured into the compartment and
with it, a clear, close view of the beach and medical station.
"Thank you, Captain," he said. "Friend Murchison, to save time I'm sending
friend Danalta with the fourth litter. The can-opy will be sealed and the
cooling system set to maximum in the hope that the reduction in external
temperature will be con-ducted to the occupant. The casualty is still inside its
suit which should be removed as quickly as possible in a less hostile
envi-ronment. I will follow at once to assist you."
"Maybe not at once, Doctor," said Danalta. Its voice was coming from what seemed
to be a small storage compartment farther aft.
He had been aware of a sudden burst of emotion an instant before the
shape-changer had spoken. Its feelings were complex, a mixture composed
predominantly of intense surprise and cu-riosity. Before Prilicla could ask the
natural question, Danalta gave the answer.
"Doctor," it said, "there is another casualty here. The phys-iological
classification is strange to me but, but I think I've found a stowaway."
CHAPTER 7
The creature appeared to be wearing a spacesuit so close-fitting that it seemed
highly probable that its general body configuration was identical in size and
shape to its protective garment. Physically the creature was a flattened ovoid
with six appendages growing at equal intervals from the perimeter, each
terminating in long, flexible digits encased in gauntlets that fitted like a
coat of metallic paint. There was a variety of what looked like specialized
tools on the fingertips of each of the thin, metal gauntlets. The rounded
projection on what was presumably the forebody, was almost certainly the
cranium, but it was covered by sensors rather than a transparent visor so that
he was unable to obtain a direct view of the facial tegument and features. There
was a large area of scorching covering the upper surface, or pos-sibly the
underside, of the body. He couldn't be sure without removing the suit.'What is
it, Doctor?" said Danalta. "Is it alive?" I m not sure," he replied, and
indicated the fourth litter. "Move the Earth-human casualty ashore, quickly, and
assist Murchison and Naydrad with it until I join you or send for an-other
litter. I'll need this area to be clear of all other sources of emotional
radiation if I'm to be absolutely sure whether or not is present."
The emoting of Danalta and the Earth-human casualty di-minished with distance to
merge with the faint, background feel-ings of the medical team and the rest of
the casualties. Without false modesty Prilicla knew that out of the entire
Cinrusskin race he possessed one of the most sensitive and analytical empathic
faculties his planetary history had ever recorded. For several long minutes he
concentrated on using it.
And found nothing.
His disappointment was severe enough to make his limbs tremble. He knew that he
was capable of detecting the emotional radiation of every species known to the
Federation, right down to the tiny, savage feelings of non-sapient insects, but
this was a thinking member of a new star-traveling species. Perhaps he had
finally encountered one that thought and felt on a sensory level that was beyond
his detection range. He was having feelings of personal doubt and inadequacy as
well as disappointment.
Sometime and somewhere, he told himself as he lifted the scanner and keyed for
the metal penetration setting, everything has to happen for the first time.
Prilicla moved closer until his head was only a few inches. from the bulbous
swelling in the protective garment which, in the majority of life-forms, was the
location of the cranium and the nerve center of the sensory equipment. Slowly
and carefully he passed the scanner over the area, continuing for several
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minutes to scan with his feelings at ultra-short range while at the same time
searching with the instrument for clinical signs of life in any underlying
organic material. He could not believe it when he found neither. He even had
trouble finding his voice.
"Friend Murchison," he said finally, "I have a casualty here which requires
further examination. Do you need me there?"
"We do, but not urgently," the pathologist replied. It emit-ted a sudden burst
of concern before it brought the feeling under control. "You have been with that
one for over half an hour. The situation here is that all four casualties have
been cut free of their suits but there are a few small areas where pieces of
burned cloth-
ing and charred body tissue are adhering, which will require sur-gical
separation. The escharred areas and deeper burn locations where obvious necrosis
has taken place will need to be trimmed away and the sites covered with
surrogate skin until proper re-placement surgery is available at the hospital.
Meanwhile, IV nu-trients, rehydration, and replacement of lost protein is
currently under way while the casualties are being supported on cushions of
cool, sterile air. Their present condition is critical but stable, and one of
them, the last one you sent to us, is barely on the plus side of terminal. We
may lose that one. Earth-human vital organs don't take kindly to being
casseroled in their own juices. But you sound as if you might have another
casualty for us. Is it a new
boy on the block?"
Prilicla hesitated, then said, "I'm not yet certain whether it is a casualty for
treatment or a new specimen for postmortem investigation. Certainly I've never
encountered a life-form like this one before, or seen references to anything
like it in the lit-erature."
"Sounds interesting," said Murchison, its matter-of-fact tone belying the
mounting curiosity it was feeling. "When can we see it? Shall I send Naydrad
with a litter to—"
"No," Prilicla broke in. He could feel the other's surprise because normally he
would never have spoken so sharply to a subordinate. In a gentler voice he went
on. "I have the feeling that you have the clinical situation under control over
there. Con-tinue as you are doing, but do nothing else until or unless I tell
YOU otherwise."
"Sir," it said, emoting intense puzzlement. The feeling was being shared and
reinforced by Naydrad, Danalta, and the offi-cers on Rhabwar who were monitoring
the images and conver-sations coming from Terragar. But Prilicla needed answers
himself before he could try to give them to others, and he had 0 pause for a
moment to steady his shaking limbs before he could return to the scanner
examination.
Since he was the only empath present, there was of course
nobody to know of or feel his fear. The minds of the medical team were engaged
exclusively with their own clinical concerns, but the people on the ambulance
ship had little more to do than to monitor and observe his actions, and those
observations would have included the minor and continuing tremor in his limbs.
Very soon friend Fletcher would deduce the reason for his terror, if it and the
others hadn't done so already.
They knew as well as he did that the crew of Terragar had sought desperately to
avoid all contact with their fellow officers and would-be rescuers, and that it
was a virtual certainty that the entity he was trying to examine was the reason.
It came as no surprise when the long period of silence was broken hesitantly by
the captain.
"Doctor," it said. "Possibly this is none of my clinical busi-ness, and I'll
understand if you tell me to shut up in your usual polite fashion, but your
examination of the alien casualty puzzles me. I've been watching you for the
past half an hour and have observed that while you began by closely approaching
but not touching the creature, for reasons that I think we both under-stand, you
are now making continuous contact with it. In what way has the situation
changed? Is the creature no longer a threat to you, and, if so, why is your body
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language suggesting other-wise? And why are you examining every square inch of
the body surface, including its hands and individual digits which, in my
layperson's opinion, are not usually the site of life-threatening injuries?"
Prilicla was silent for a moment while he tried to organize the results of his
examination in a form that would not embarrass him when the recording was played
back, as it would be many times, by the cultural-contact people.
"I began by assuming that the air inside its suit was one of the
oxygen-and-inert combinations used by warm-blooded oxygen-breathers, and
identified the species tentatively as phys-iological classification CHLI.
Sub-surface scanner investigation of the suit, and a deeper, detailed
examination of its content,
revealed the presence of unique technology of a level of com-plexity that I am
not qualified to assess. The subsequent forensic investigation suggests that the
position and sharply defined area of heat damage to the suit—the head section,
forward pair of limbs, and particularly the attached digits which are literally
fused together—was sustained before, rather than after, the subject was taken on
board Terragar. The later atmospheric heating effects suffered by the ship had
no effect on the occupant. No doubt, friend Fletcher, you will wish me to help
you to make a more thorough investigation at a more convenient time.
"To summarize," he ended, "life—as we understand the term—is no longer present.
I very much doubt that it ever was." He felt the sudden burst of surprise and
curiosity from the medical team, but it was on a low level because their
attention was being concentrated on their Earth-human casualties. The captain's
emotional radiation was accompanied by words.
"Wait, Doctor," it said. "Do I understand you correctly? Are you saying that the
subject is a robot of unique and advanced design, and, and that it may be a
casualty of war?"
"I'm unwilling to speculate on the available evidence, friend Fletcher,"
Prilicla replied, "but judging by the sophistication of design and construction
in this mechanism, it may even be pos-sible that we have discovered a
non-organic form of intelligent life. But I advise extreme caution during any
subsequent exam-ination, because the actions of this creature or others like it
may be the reason why Terragar was trying so hard to avoid contact with us. We
won't know more until or unless the ship's officers are able to talk to us.
"Friend Murchison," he added, "I'll be with you in five minutes."
"The sooner the better," he heard Naydrad say. In spite of Murchison's earlier,
reassuring situation report, he could feel that it was speaking for all of them.
The field medical station was a prefabricated, modular structure designed for
use at the scene of space construction accidents or planetary disaster-relief
operations. It comprised a self-contained, multiple-species operating room to
which recovery wards, medical-staff accommodation, and ancillary equipment could
be added as required. The OR was already in use and Rhab-war's pressor beams had
lifted in the less urgently required sec-tions together with a couple of
general-purpose robots that were busily attaching them as he approached.
As if it were an unconscious emotional preparation for the serious clinical
problems ahead, a childhood memory of his home world, like a waking dream, came
flooding back to calm his mind. In those days it had been himself who had been
assembling brightly-colored structures out of building-blocks on the sand, and
peopling them with legendary creatures out of his imagina-tion who had strange
and varied capabilities for performing great deeds of good or evil on those in
their power—short of ending their lives, that was, because violent death was
something that even an adult Cinrusskin did not willingly think about. This
stretch of golden beach could have been the same, as was the green fringe of
vegetation inland that was too indistinct to appear alien and therefore
different. But there all similarity ended.
The steep, low-gravity waves of Cinruss had been replaced by the low, smooth
rollers that peaked and foamed only as they broke in the shallows; and here the
people inhabiting the bright building blocks were more varied and wonderful than
anything he could ever have imagined as a child, and death was something that
they thought about, faced, and, in the majority of their cases, conquered every
day of their lives.
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But not today.
From Murchison and the other team members he felt the sudden burst of sorrow,
self-criticism, and near anger character-istic of healers who had just lost a
patient.
CHAPTER 8
When he joined them a few minutes later, Naydrad was moving the deceased
casualty to an adjoining compart-ment on a litter with a closed, opaque cover.
The features of Captain Fletcher looked silently down from the wall
communi-cator screen, the fleshy edges of its mouth pressed tightly together and
its strong feelings tenuous with distance. Two other casual-ties had been given
preliminary treatment and were floating above an enclosed, air-cushioned bed
while Murchison and Dan-alta were working on the remaining one. They were
concentrat-ing all of their attention on excising the areas of charred tissue
while covering the less severely affected sections of the body sur-face with the
thick, creamlike, clinging medication that had been developed for the treatment
of DBDG burn cases. It would aid tissue regeneration, deaden pain on the
patient's return to con-sciousness, and protect against same-species airborne
infection. The latter was the reason why it was the pathologist alone who was
dressed for a full aseptic operational procedure.
Microorganisms that had originated on one planet could not cross the species
barrier to affect or infect life-forms who had evolved on another. Naydrad felt
the downdraft from Prilicla's on its uncovered fur and looked up. I'm beginning
to feel like a redundant limb here," it said,
looking at the newly arrived casualty with feelings of concern and impatience
ruffling its mind and its fur. "Will I help you to cut off its suit?"
As a specialist in heavy rescue, Naydrad was the hospital's acknowledged expert
at cutting all shapes and sizes of injured space casualties out of their
environmental protection and un-derlying body coverings, if the species
concerned wore them, without inflicting further damage to the living contents.
It made no effort to salvage any part of the suit, but instead used its
high-speed cutter to section the entire surface, leaving it with so many
connected incisions that the pieces could be peeled away and discarded like the
shell of a multiply cracked egg. Except in the places where the material and
underlying skin had fused together into a single, charred mass, the uniform went
the same way. While it was dealing with those areas, Naydrad positioned the
patient for him on its frictionless bed of cooling air and began the rehydration
process. Murchison and Danalta joined them without comment and smoothly took
over the procedure while he withdrew to hover above the patient.
"How is it, sir?" said Murchison. They both knew that it wasn't asking about the
patient's physical condition, which was clear to see, but the unseen emotional
radiation that only he could detect. "Can it withstand major surgery?"
"It is better than I would have expected, and yes," Prilicla replied. "It has
suffered major trauma and as a result is deeply unconscious, but the emotional
radiation is characteristic of a being who, unconsciously, is still fighting to
survive. That situ-ation could change for the worse if we don't operate quickly.
"This patient," he went on for the benefit of the recorders, "took shelter in a
heavy metal equipment cabinet. It was found in the kneeling position with its
body folded forward at the waist and steadied by one hand. That hand and its
lower limbs were in lengthy contact with metal whose heat was^aonducted through
the suit fabric to the feet and knees so that*these areas have
sustained deep charring that involves the underlying circulatory system,
muscles, and associated nerve networks. The other two casualties have already
lost their feet and lower limbs. We may be able to save the hand on this one,
which seems to have been holding a non-conducting tool to keep it from direct
contact with the hot metal. Your feelings, friend Murchison, and those of the
rest of you, indicate that you have come to a decision, but I must ask the
question verbally.
"Is there general agreement," he ended, "that the lower legs should be removed
without delay?"
He was aware of their feelings, so there was no real need for them to speak, but
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Murchison, who had its own, peculiarly Earth-human form of empathy, was feeling
Prilicla's need for support and reassurance.
"Yes," it said firmly.
Before anyone else could reply, there was an interruption in the form of the
captain clearing its breathing passages. It said, "Much as I dislike watching
major operative procedures, espe-cially on fellow officers of my own species who
are personally known to me, I've been forcing myself to do so. The reason is
that, to my medically untutored mind, and considering the literal hell they went
through on that ship, it seems to me that there is a strong possibility that
none of these casualties will survive."
It hesitated for a moment, and he was able to detect distant feelings of
embarrassment mixed with determination as it went on. "To me the most urgent
priority here is the gathering of information, knowledge that could be of vital
importance to a great many beings throughout the Federation. After all, your
pa-tients were intent on killing themselves, so restoring one of them to a
condition in which he can tell us why is ..."
"Friend Fletcher," Prilicla broke in gently, "your words are giving rise to
intense feelings of disagreement and anger which the medical team is trying hard
not to verbalize, and in the present circumstances those words are an unwanted
distraction. The clinical condition of the three casualties is critical but
stable, and it is possible that they may not survive, much less regain
con-sciousness."
"In that case," the captain said, "why not bring one of them round in case they
die before they can give us the information we need? It will be tough on the
person concerned, but they are Monitor Corps, after all, and would be the first
to understand the priorities in this situation."
For a long moment Prilicla tried hard to reduce the tremor that the other's
suggestion had caused in his limbs, but succeeded only in keeping his operating
hands steady. Finally he spoke.
"We will discuss this matter at a more convenient time," he said, without his
customary politeness. "You may continue to observe, but you will refrain from
making any further suggestions until the procedure has been completed."
The captain remained silent but watchful during the re-mainder of the operation,
and the additional surgery needed on the other two casualties. Prilicla assumed
that the other was breathing through its nasal openings because never before had
he seen Earth-human lips pressed so tightly and continuously together. But when
it was obvious to the layest of laypersons, which the captain was not, that the
procedures on all three pa-tients was completed, it spoke again.
Dr. Prilicla," said the captain, "we must have a serious talk as soon as
possible after—"
"Captain Fletcher!" Murchison broke in, its words calm and cold and quiet,
although the feelings that accompanied them shared none of those qualities. "Dr.
Prilicla has been operating here for nearly two hours, to which must be added
its rescue time on Terragar. By now a space officer in your position must be
aware of the physical limitations of the GLNO life-form, includ-ing its lack of
stamina which requires that it rest frequently and often. We're all tired right
now, and not just the boss ..."
It broke off as the captain raised a hand for silence and said sharply, "I'm
well aware of my senior medical officer's requirements, and I had been about to
say that we must talk very seri-ously as soon as possible after it has rested.
It may well be that the situation we have here transcends any considerations of
med-ical ethics. Sleep well, Doctor."
After a final check of the patients' monitors, Murchison, Naydrad, and himself
retired, leaving Danalta on watch. In the shape-changer's utterly savage
home-planet environment, all life-forms who required regular periods of
unconsciousness to recharge their organic batteries had not survived their
unsleeping natural enemies to develop intelligence, so remaining awake was no
hardship for it. In the present situation it extruded an eye and a large,
sensitive ear which it kept trained on the patient moni-tors. There were times
when Prilicla almost envied the unsleeping Danalta, but not often, because
normally he needed and wel-comed those periods of non-thinking and non-feeling
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when he did not have to empathize with anything or anybody.
When Cinrusskins slept, there was an external sensory shut-down. Neither loud
noises nor bright lights nor the most acrid of smells would awaken them. Only a
sharp, physical stimulus or the close presence of a source of danger, a legacy
of his own prehistoric past, could do that. Even Cinrusskin dreams were brief,
being nothing more than a few subjective seconds of bright, confused imagery
from the recently experienced past or, as some of the more unorthodox Healers of
the Mind argued, from pos-sible futures. They were nothing more than the steeply
shelving shallows at each end of a journey across the ocean of sleep.
In the fleeting dream before awakening he had been ex-amining the non-organic
casualty on Terragar again, but this time he was working in a thick, unseen
cloud of anxiety and there was a pair of Earth-human hands assisting him. He
dismissed the dream as another meaningless and random discharge of un--onscious
brain activity, chose a favorite breakfast from his food ispenser, then spent a
few moments on the improvement of his Appearance. He used an aromatic sponge to
oil and polish his
head, thorax, exoskeleton, and limbs, even though he knew that nobody on the
ship would notice any difference, before he con-tacted the casualty deck.
Danalta reported that all three patients were in a stable and clinically
satisfactory condition, and that they remained deeply unconscious with the
monitors registering a slight but continuing improvement in life signs.
Prilicla's empathic read-ings gave confirmation. Murchison and Naydrad were
still in their quarters and emitting the emotional radiation character-istic of
deep and undisturbed sleep. He decided to leave them in that condition, and face
the coming confrontation with the captain without their moral support—always
bearing in mind, he reminded himself dryly as he pressed the communicator stud,
that for a Cinrusskin a very gentle and flattering attack was the best form of
defense.
"Friend Fletcher," he began as the other's face appeared on his screen, "you
displayed great sensitivity, understanding and kindness in allowing me to rest
my fragile body and mind before discussing your own urgent concerns. But before
we do so, you will be pleased to know that the clinical condition of the three
injured officers is stable and their prognoses give grounds for guarded
optimism. At present they are deeply unconscious and are likely to remain in
that condition for many hours, perhaps up to few days. Following massive trauma
that stops short of termination, you Earth-human DBDGs have a great capacity for
physical and psychological recuperation, and in the present sit-uation it is the
mental aspect which must be given consideration if useful information is to be
obtained from them.
"However," he continued quickly, "should an attempt be made to revive one of
them prematurely, the consequent with-drawal of their anesthetic medication
would have two effects. The sudden return to high levels of pain, combined with
the medication-induced mental confusion, would render the neces-sarily short
conversation with them, especially any specific, technical information they
might try to give you during ques-tioning, of doubtful value. As well, the
general shock to their
systems might cause them to terminate before they were able to produce
sense-bearing sounds.
"Other than the clinical condition of my patients, friend Fletcher," he ended,
"was there anything else you wanted to dis-cuss with me?"
The captain remained silent for a long moment, then he heard it give a long
sigh. Even though the emotional range was extreme, he could almost feel the
disappointment that accom-panied it.
"Dr. Prilicla," it said finally, "my primary need is for infor-mation regarding
the reasons for the earlier abnormal behavior of your patients. You've
effectively closed the first and most ob-vious source by pulling medical rank on
me, for which we are all relieved. But I still need that information, urgently.
Can you sug-gest another source?"
This time it was Prilicla's turn to be silent.
"Perhaps you are not yet mentally awake, Doctor," it went on. "Let me remind you
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that we're here in answer to three dis-tress calls. Two of them may or may not
have been due to the discharge of weapons by or at the alien ship, and the third
was a standard subspace distress beacon released by Terragar which was later
augmented by what seemed to be hand-signaled warn-ings to stay clear of the
alien vessel. As the ambulance ship in attendance, Rhabwar is expected to report
on the disaster and the action being taken to deal with it, or to request and
specify the help needed if we are incapable of handling the problem ourselves.
For technical reasons, that report will be necessarily brief, even terse, but it
must contain the essential informa-tion ..."
"Friend Fletcher," Prilicla broke in gently, "I am fully aware the problems and
shortcomings inherent in subspace radio communication and, considering my long
service as Rhabwar 's -nior medical officer, it is impolite of you to suggest
otherwise. But if you are truly feeling concerned, I can assure you that I am
Physically rested and mentally alert."
"Sorry, Doctor," said the captain, "I was being sarcastic. The point I'm making
is that twenty-one standard hours have passed since we arrived and no situation
report signal has gone off be-cause, frankly, I have nothing to say about it
that makes sense even to me. But I have to say something or they will send
another ship, or, more likely, warships, to find out what happened to us, and
that ship or ships might also suffer the same fate as Terragar. That damage by
beings unknown could be construed as a hostile act and we might have the
beginnings of a war—pardon me, police operation—against the same persons
unknown."
It took a deep breath and in a calmer voice went on. "I still need solid
information, no matter how sparse, if for no other reason than to support my
intended action of placing all three of the ships involved in indefinite
quarantine. The reasons must be credible; otherwise our authorities might think
that we have been so affected by the situation that we must be considered
psychologically suspect, in which case they will send another ship anyway. But
other than telling them to stay away from us, what can I say? Have you a
suggestion, Doctor? I hope."
"I have, friend Fletcher," Prilicla replied, thinking how good it felt to be in
possession of a clear mind in a rested body. "But it may involve a small
personal risk for you."
"If the risk is warranted," said the captain impatiently, "the size is
unimportant. Go on."
Prilicla went on. "Until I know the exact nature of the threat, infection, or
whatever that seems to have been picked up by Terragar, I have asked that
Rhabwar remain separated from the medical team. That stricture still holds, but
I may have been a little overcautious because none of the team suffered any
detect-able ill effects as a result of our brief visit to the ship, nor myself
from my examination of the damaged life-form found on board. I feel sure that,
provided the normal safety precautions are taken and we subject ourselves to
external sterilization procedures be-fore and after the visit, we could conduct
a forensic examination of the wreck in safety. Whatever the damage inflicted by
the alien
hip, or by that life-form found on board, it must have left some evidence of the
kind of weapon used—enough, perhaps, to com-plete your report. And the quality
of the information could well be better than that supplied by a semiconscious
casualty in in-tense pain. Do you have any comments, friend Fletcher?"
The captain nodded and showed its teeth. "Three of them," it said. "The first is
that you should rest and clear your body and mind more often. The second and
third are, how soon can we meet, and where?"
Less than an hour later Prilicla was watching the captain's Earth-human hands
beside his as they began the reexamination of the strange life-form, and
suddenly he remembered his odd waking dream. He was about to mention it, then
had second thoughts. The captain was not the sort of person with whom one
discussed one's dreams.
CHAPTER 9
Murchison reported that the condition of the three casualties remained stable,
and asked permission to go along to assist with the forensic examination. It had
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insisted that as an other-species pathologist its field covered all forms of
intelligent life, and not just the organic variety. Prilicla had heard few lamer
excuses for satisfying professional curiosity, which in Murchi-son's case was
every bit as intense as that of the captain and himself, but he had agreed.
Murchison was his principal assistant and the person most likely to inherit the
senior medical officer's position on Rhabwar—and besides, he was curious to see
how it dealt with a totally new situation.
That was why most of the talking was being done into the recorder by Captain
Fletcher, with Murchison making an occa-sional interjection, while Prilicla
spent long periods saying noth-ing at all. Following a meticulous examination
with the special scanner provided by Lieutenant Chen—a scanner normally used to
detect obscure symptoms deep inside ailing machinery—the captain straightened
up, placed the instrument gently on the deck, and spoke with feelings of
excitement and enthusiasm.
"This creature, entity, artifact, or whatever," it said, "dis-plays a degree of
design and structural sophistication well beyond
the Federation's present capabilities—if it was, in fact, built by anyone or
anything but itself. The internal circuitry and actuator mechanisms are so
incredibly fine and intricate that at first I couldn't recognize them for what
they are. This thing wasn't just put together by watchmakers but by the
mechanical equivalent of a microsurgery team. I've traced several of the
peripheral nerve networks to a processing area in the central body which seems
to house the brain and heart equivalents. I can't be sure of this because that
location has been damaged and the contents fused by the heat and radiation
discharge that destroyed the creature. The sensory circuits underlying the
surface in the same area have also been burned out, probably by the same agency,
which may or may not have been a wide-focus heat weapon of some kind. "But there
is clear evidence throughout the whole body," it went on, "of a highly developed
self-repair capability of appar-ently indefinite duration. Until it sustained
that blast injury, this thing would have been capable of regeneration and
growth. Any organism that can do that is technically alive."
Prilicla had a question but Murchison asked it for him. Quickly it said, "Are
you sure that your subject isn't alive now?" "Don't worry, ma'am," the captain
replied. "How sure would you be if your subject's brain and heart had been
burned to a crisp? Besides, its muscles—I mean its actuator linkages— are
designed for light, precise work and are not all that robust. Physically it
would not represent a serious threat"—it smiled— "except possibly to Dr.
Prilicla."
Murchison returned the other's smile, because practically everything larger than
an Earth kitten was a serious threat to Prilicla.
Something else is worrying me," Murchison said, "I watched your internal scanner
examination, Captain, and saw that the subject's body is solidly packed with
circuitry, metal musculature, and sensory receptors. But why is it that
particular shape?"
Fletcher remained silent, radiating the confusion and im-patience characteristic
of a mind that had been expecting a dif-ferent question.
"Robotics isn't my specialty," Murchison went on, "but isn't it usual for one to
be mechanically more functional? I mean, shouldn't it basically be a box with
locomotor appendages sim-pler and more versatile than the six limbs we are
seeing here; with a variety of specialized manipulators sprouting out of the
body without regard to aesthetic balance; and with all-around visual sensors
instead of just two in the head section? If this thing had been normally organic
we would classify it as a CHLI. Rather than adopting a functional robotic shape,
it seems clear that this body configuration is decidedly organimorphic. My
question is, why would a non-organic intelligence copy itself on a CHLI?"
"Sorry, ma'am," the captain replied, looking and feeling apologetic. "I have no
answers, just a wild guess."
Murchison nodded and said, "Which is?"
The captain hesitated, then said, "This isn't my field, either. But think about
the evolution of an organic life-form as opposed to that of an intelligent
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machine. Ignoring the religious perspec-tive, the first begins as an accidental
grouping of simple, cellular forms which takes several millions of years of
environmental ad-aptation with other competing species to become the dominant
intelligence. The second doesn't do anything like that because, no matter how
long it is given, a simple tool like a monkey wrench can never evolve through
the intermediate stage of a lawn mower to become a superintelligent computer, at
least, not with-out outside help. That simple tool has to be created by someone
in the first place, and at some later stage the creator has to provide the
machine with self-awareness and intelligence. Only then would there be the
possibility of further self-evolution.
"I'm speculating, of course," the captain went on, "but a further possibility is
that the beings who first bestowed on their machines the gift of self-aware,
intelligent life are a permanent part of their racial memory—or inherited
design—and that they made, or in gratitude made the choice to remain, in their
CHLI creators' image."
"In your opinion, friend Fletcher," Prilicla asked, "would this entity have been
capable of disabling a starship?"
"No, Doctor," the captain replied firmly. "At least, not di-rectly. Although
composed of metal with plastic-insulated cir-cuitry, the appendages were
designed for precise and delicate work rather than hard labor or fighting,
although there would have been nothing to stop it using those digits, as we
DBDGs have been known to do, to operate a variety of destructive weap-ons. I'll
be looking for anything like that when I'm searching the ship. All the evidence
points to our robot friend being dead on arrival, and the type of heat and blast
injuries it sustained were too unfocused to be caused by a Corps hand-weapon.
"And now," it went on, looking at the opened seams in the hull plating of the
ship all around them, "I have to examine the body of a larger, metal cadaver,
one that is more familiar to me."
Prilicla used his antigravity belt to move outside and fly forward to the
control deck while Murchison stayed with the captain, both to satisfy its
curiosity and to help move aside trou-blesome debris. There was minimal risk
because both of them were experienced in negotiating ship wreckage, and he was
pleased that neither their voices in his headset nor their feelings indicated
that they were taking risks.
When they rejoined him, the two crescents of facial fur oove the captain's eyes,
and its emotional radiation, were indicating extreme puzzlement.
/'
I don't understand this," it said, gesturing aft. "Discounting the effects of
atmospheric heating and buffeting on the hull the way down, the ship's systems
and linkages—power, guidance life support—are all in pretty good mechanical
order. Why should one of the officers have had to go aft to operate the main
thrusters on manual? But that is what he did, and the answer has to be here
somewhere in control."
"Including, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "the reason why the casualties
wanted us to stay away from their ship?"
"That, too, Doctor," it replied. "And thank you for the re-minder and gentle
warning, which I'm pretty sure is unnecessary. Pathologist Murchison reported
earlier that, apart from their se-vere burn trauma, there is nothing clinically
abnormal about the patients' condition. On the way here she also told me that
the only microbes present were the usual harmless, Earth-human bugs that came on
board with them and were trapped in the air-circulation system, plus a few
airborne varieties native to this world which cannot cross the planetary species
barrier and so need not concern us.
"I agree with everyone exercising a high degree of caution," it went on, its
feelings if not its voice registering impatience, "but surely it is no longer
necessary to wear sealed suits, or for your team to continue working in an
isolated, prefabricated unit with limited facilities rather than on Rhabwar's
casualty deck. There is nothing to threaten us here."
"It must be nice," said Murchison, radiating sarcasm, "to feel so sure of
yourself."
"Friend Fletcher," Prilicla said quickly, in an attempt to re-duce its growing
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irritation and head off a possible exchange of verbal violence, "no doubt you
are quite right in everything you've said, but I, for physiological reasons that
have made my people a species of arrant cowards, am extremely cautious. Please
humor me."
The captain nodded and its feelings once again became calmly analytical as it
began its examination of the damaged con-trol consoles around them. It trained
the vision pickup on each and every item and discussed its observations for the
recorders. Apart from a few minutes checking with Naydrad on the con-dition of
the casualties, they watched in silence the progress of a technically-oriented
postmortem as painstakingly thorough as any the pathologist had performed on
organic cadavers. Prilicla had always derived pleasure from watching an expert
at work,
and he knew that his feelings of appreciation and admiration ere being shared by
Murchison. But finally the work was done and the captain was staring at them
with an expression and emo-tions that could only be described as a large and
perplexed ques-tion mark.
"This doesn't make sense," it said. "The main and secondary computer systems are
down. That shouldn't happen. They are strongly encased, protected physically and
electronically in case of damage during a major malfunction or collision. They
perform the function of the black boxes in atmosphere craft so that, in the
event of an accident, the investigators have some idea of what went wrong. But
there was nothing structurally wrong with Ter-ragar except that all its
computers are dead, or as good as. This is ridiculous. With all our fail-safe
systems and protective devices,
that should not have happened-----"
It broke off for a moment, then with a sudden burst of emotion intense enough to
make Prilicla tremble it said, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"We're not telepaths, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla gently. "You'll have to
tell us what you're thinking."
"I'd rather not tell you anything just yet," said the captain, 'in case I'd be
making a complete fool of myself." It reached into its equipment satchel and
indicated one of the consoles whose plastic trim was only slightly
heat-discolored. "There may still be some life left in that one. Instead of
talking to you, maybe I'll be able to demonstrate my idea with this tester. The
instrument has a small screen so you'll have to move closer. But don't touch it,
or allow any of your equipment to make contact with it. That is very important.
Do you understood?"
"We understand, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "We think," Murchison added.
With the pathologist's feeling of bewilderment matching his own they watched in
silence as the captain expertly removed the console cover to lay bare the
underlying circuitry. Then with a magnetic clamp it attached the tester to a
convenient bulkhead, activated the display screen, unreeled one of the device's
many probes, and went slowly and carefully to work. If it had been a sick
patient rather than a malfunctioning machine, Prilicla thought, the other's
movements could not have been more del-icate or precise.
Many minutes passed while the display screen remained lit but blank, then
suddenly it flickered and a schematic diagram appeared. The captain bent closer,
excitement diluting its intense concentration.
"I'm into the ship's main computer now," it said, "and there's something there.
But I don't recognize the ... What the hell!"
The image was breaking up and generating random, geo-metrical lines and shapes
that were drifting off the four edges of the screen until all that remained was
an expanse of sparkling white noise. The captain swore and jabbed at several of
its control studs without result. Even the green POWER ON light was dead.
The type and intensity of the captain's emotional radiation was beginning to
worry Prilicla. He said, "Something has hap-pened, friend Fletcher. What is
troubling you?"
"My tester just died," said the captain. Suddenly it grabbed the instrument in
both hands, raised it high above its head and slammed it downwards with all of
its strength against the deck before adding, "And I was expecting it to happen,
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dammit!"
"Temper, Captain," said Murchison, radiating irritation and surprise as it bent
down to pick up the remains of the device.
"No!" said Fletcher urgently. "Stay away from it. Probably there's no physical
danger to yourselves because it's dead, de-funct. But don't touch it until we
know the technical reason for what happened here."
"Which was what?" said Prilicla.
He spoke very gently because the other's feelings were con-fused, fearful,
excited, and radiating all over the emotional spec-trum. It was an unprecedented
mental condition for the usually calm and imperturbable captain to display.
Murchison's feeling irritation at the other's brusque manner was being replaced
by the. clinical calm of a physician towards someone who might shortly become a
patient. But before the captain could reply, there was an interruption from
Naydrad speaking on their head-sets.
"Dr. Prilicla," it said. "One of the casualties, the last one you brought in,
has returned to partial consciousness. Judging by its manner, it was the ship's
commanding officer. It is greatly agitated, its speech is slurred and
unintelligible, and, in spite of being immobilized, it is fighting all attempts
at administering further sedative shots. The self-inflicted additional trauma is
causing a marked deterioration in its clinical condition. If we patch you
through, will you speak to it? Or better still, come back here and try your
projective empathy on its mind?"
While the charge nurse was speaking, Prilicla had been try-ing not to tremble at
the thought of what the severely burned and prematurely conscious patient was
doing to itself. He said, "Of course, friend Naydrad. I'll talk to it now and
while I'm flying back to join you. If it is Terragar's captain, then Rhabwar
will have its family and personal names on file. Quickly, please, find out what
they are. Using them in conversation will help reassure it, but I'll speak to it
now."
"No," said Fletcher. "I know his name. Let me talk to him."
He felt Murchison's earlier calm disappear in an unchar-acteristic flare of
anger as it said, "What the hell's got into you, Captain? This is a clinical
matter. It is definitely not in your area of expertise."
Both of their faces were showing the reddening of tempo-rarily elevated blood
pressure, but the anger of the captain was being overlaid by feelings of
increasing certainty as it said, "Sorry, ma'am. In this case it is, because
right now I'm the only one here who knows what happened."
CHAPTER 10
The captain was not allowing the intense sympathy and con-cern it was feeling to
affect the calm, unemotional tone of its voice as it spoke via the communicator
screen to the patient, but considering the urgency of the situation, Prilicla
thought that friend Fletcher's long-range bedside manner was very good.
"Captain Davidson, George," it began. "This is Don Fletcher, Rhabwar. We were
able to land your ship, cool it in the sea, and recover your crew. Apart from
the burn injuries, which ire severe, you are in no immediate danger, and—please
believe me—neither are we.. . ."
No sentient creature, Prilicla thought as an uncontrollable tremor shook his
body, should ever have to suffer such an inten-sity of pain, much less have to
fight through it in an attempt to produce coherent words. The captain's voice
remained steady but its normally pink, Earth-human face had paled to a bloodless
yellow-grey.
"George," it went on, "please stop threshing about in that litter and trying to
fight your medication, and most of all, stop trying to talk. Believe me, we know
what is troubling you and what you're trying to warn us about, and we appreciate
the effort. But right now you must relax and just listen to me...."
Captain Davidson was still trying desperately to talk rather, listen, but its
words lacked coherency even to the listeners of its own species who did not need
translators. The high levels of pain and fear and urgency it was feeling had not
diminished.
". . We received and understood the hand signals and emo-tional radiation from
your control canopy," the captain went on, with a nod towards Prilicla, "and at
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no time was direct physical contact made by Rhabwar either with Terragar or the
alien ship, and that situation will continue until the threat is fully
under-stood. In the meantime Rhabwar has been positioned at a safe distance
along the beach from this medical station that we have deployed to treat your
survivors, and the remains of your ship are also at a safe distance from both.
Following the recovery of your casualties, Terragar was boarded again and your
ship inte-rior and the remains of the alien robot we found on board were
thoroughly investigated. As a result we know the reason for your desperate and
apparently suicidal attempts to avoid contact with our own ship. We deeply
appreciate what you were trying to do and tell us, but now we have received the
message and probably know more about the threat from that alien ship than you
do."
Prilicla detected the change in emotional radiation several seconds before
Danalta spoke.
"The patient's struggles have diminished slightly," the shape-changer reported
quietly without looking up from the pa-tient. "It is no longer trying to speak,
but the monitor indicates continued muscular tension and elevated blood
pressure. You are getting through to it, Captain. I don't understand one word of
your explanation, but for the patient's sake, keep on talking." From the
evidence so far uncovered," Fletcher went on, ignoring the compliment and at the
same time trying to reduce Danalta's level of ignorance, "I would say that the
robot was floating free outside the other ship's hull and you recovered it
hoping that it might be a survivor or, if not, that it would at least give you
some idea of the form of life you were trying to rescue. When they didn't
respond to your radio signals, you sent across contact-sensor plate and
connecting cable which you attached magnetically to the hull, hoping that it
would be able to detect life signs or movements that your computer would be able
to process to give the exact locations. But it was the direct cable connection
between the sensor plate and your computer that wrecked Terragar, In short,
George, that alien vessel doesn't affect or infect living people, it kills
ships. It also infects, disables, or kills any lesser form of
computer-controlled device that comes into contact with it.
"You turned up an alien hot potato this time, George," the captain ended softly,
"but now it's our problem. So just relax, go back to sleep, and let us worry
about it."
Several minutes passed without anyone speaking. From the medical team Prilicla
detected feelings of surprise, curiosity, and excitement caused by Fletcher's
explanation, while Captain Da-vidson's emotional radiation was that of a mind
that was slipping back into unconsciousness.
"The patient is again responding to the sedative medica-tion," he said, "and its
life signs are stabilizing. Thank you, friend Fletcher."
"Yes, indeed," said Murchison, radiating relief and grati-tude. "That was very
well done, Captain." It looked at the broken test device lying on the deck and
added, "Now we know why you lost your temper and trashed that thing. I'd
probably have done the same."
Prilicla was feeling friend Fletcher's gratitude and pleasure at the
compliments, as well as its increasing embarrassment. He said, "Have you enough
information now to send your subspace signal?"
"On the Terragar situation, yes," the captain replied. "But I'd like to make the
report as informative as possible. We have to go into space to send it, so I
want to take a closer look at that alien ship before I do. Don't worry, I won't
make direct contact or do anything stupid like deploying another sensor
connection cable. Rhabwar will be back in three to four hours. And Doctor,
'I1 be visiting a hunk of sick machinery so there will be no need for a medical
presence."
"There is, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla gently. "You are visiting a ship
disaster situation and, regardless of the type or condition of the casualties,
as the senior medical officer I should be there. About this I must insist."
Before any of his team could voice their objections, which were based
principally on concern for his safety, he went on. "Don't worry, I shall take no
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unnecessary risks nor allow friend Fletcher to do so. Are there any
decontamination procedures you can suggest before I transfer to Rhabwart"
Murchison and Fletcher looked at each other for a moment while their feelings
changed from concern to a grudging accep-tance of the inevitable.
"The usual organic decontamination drill at the airlock," said the captain,
"which is almost certainly unnecessary, but I don't believe in taking chances,
either...." It gestured towards the tester lying on the deck. "... And, of
course, don't bring any computer viruses on board."
Even though the alien vessel was clean, bright, shining, and highly
streamlined—a clear indication that it had taken off from a plan-etary surface
rather than being assembled in space—among themselves, Rhabwar' s officers were
calling it the Plague Ship. As a vessel crewed by robots it was probably as
clean inside as it was out, Prilicla thought as he watched the image enlarge
beyond the edges of his viewscreen, but then they were not talking about that
sort of plague.
They moved in to a distance of two hundred meters and began a series of slow
circles around its longitudinal axis. At close range, the only blemishes visible
on the sleek hull were the two
small craters with the heat discoloration around them and an open access hatch
cover with heat-damaged equipment of some kind Projecting from it.
"There's something odd about that hull damage," said the captain. "I would like
a closer look at it, or better still, a hands-on examination. I'm thinking
aloud, you understand, but what if I was to go over there in a lightweight suit,
and didn't touch it with any computerized test equipment, and even retracted the
suit antenna to reduce the risk of making metal-to-metal contact with the hull?
It would also mean not carrying a weapon, but that is normal practice in a
first-contact situation. At this short range I wouldn't need the antenna, and as
an added precaution I could wear non-conducting gauntlets, and insulated covers
for the boots, during the ..."
"Pardon the interruption, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla qui-etly, "but I feel
you radiating intense curiosity. I have similar feelings and would like a closer
look, too. Admittedly the con-tamination we would be investigating is
non-organic, but the presence of a medical advisor could be an advantage."
The other radiated indecision for a moment, then it made the soft, barking sound
that Earth-humans called laughter and said, "Right. But I have the feeling that
if Pathologist Murchison had been here she would give you an argument about
that, as well as subjecting me to a great deal of verbal abuse for allowing you
to take the risk. Chen?"
"Sir," replied the engineering officer. "We intend closing to a distance of
twenty meters, very slowly," Fletcher went on. "Be ready to pull us out again
faster than that."
By the time Fletcher and himself had suited-up and flown clear of Rhabwar's
personnel lock, Prilicla had had time for many second thoughts and had foolishly
discarded all of them. It was not always an advantage to carry Educator tapes
whose donors were less cowardly than himself, especially when he allowed them to
influence his own thinking. The alien vessel was now rolling ponderously at a
distance of about thirty meters, but no attempt had been made to kill its spin
because the tractor beam might have furnished an avenue for electronic
infection. As they com-
pensated for its movement with their suit thrusters, it felt as if they were
tiny insects sandwiched between the vast white wall that was the ambulance
ship's hull and the silvery surface of the alien vessel, with a broad, circular
band that was divided into star-sprinkled space above and the mottled carpet of
the plane-tary cloud blanket below them.
They used their suit thrusters to bring themselves to a halt within three meters
of the open hatch cover. After a moment's hesitation, Fletcher edged closer and
one of its hands made fleet-ing contact with the metal projection, then gripped
it firmly in both.
"No harmful effects noted," it said for the benefit of the recorders.
"The mechanism projecting from the small compartment behind the hatch cover," it
went on, "appears to be a simple, extendible metal arm with a hinged outer
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section that is capable of rotation horizontally and vertically through one
hundred and eighty degrees, and there is a gripping mechanism at its extremity.
It has the appearance of being an unsophisticated device used for placing in
position on, or removing objects from, the external hull. There is evidence of
scorch damage...."
While the captain continued to describe in meticulous detail everything it was
seeing and thinking, Prilicla waited until the slow, rolling motion of the
vessel caused them to move close to the cratered area. With small, precisely
timed bursts of thruster power he maintained position about two meters above
them. He was not a forensics expert, but his visual acuity was exceptionally
good and the type of damage he was seeing, although probably caused by the same
agency, displayed a major inconsistency in its effect.
The first crater showed a normal, circular depression whose depth was
approximately half of its diameter and with the interior and lip edges
compressed and fused by the explosive pressure of a high-temperature blast of
some kind, but the second one was entirely different. It had a shallower,
ringlike formation with an area at its center that showed pressure but minimal
heat dam-age. Deep scratches covering the area with what looked like small
traces of silvery metal were adhering to some of them. Even though he was
trusting to visual observation alone, Prilicla was sure that the metals of the
hull and of that adhering to the scratches were markedly dissimilar. He edged
closer to make ab-solutely sure before he spoke. "Friend Fletcher," he said,
"there is something very odd here that I would like you to see." "The
compartment behind this access hatch looks very odd, too," said the captain. It
moved to join him and looked in the direction of his pointing digit for a moment
before it added, "But you first, Doctor. What am I supposed to be seeing?"
"The difference in the extent and depth of the damage at this and the other
crater," he said. "You can see that this crater is shallower than the first one
and, while the perimeter of this one has been fused by intense heat, the central
area has been depressed but is not as badly burned. There is deep scratching
that contains small traces of a brighter metal that is foreign to the
surrounding hull. It looks as if a large, fairly smooth metal object made heavy
contact at this spot. Friend Fletcher, the size and outline of the unburned area
are suggestive."
"You've got organic microscopes there instead of eyes, Doc-tor," it said. "But
suggestive of what? I'm seeing what you're seeing, with great difficulty, but
what should I be thinking about it?"
"Your pardon, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "I cannot be absolutely certain
without analyzing a specimen for purposes of comparison, but the traces of
foreign metal you see suggests that this is where the alien robot we found on
Terragar sustained its injuries or—since it was not an organic life-form—damage.
The weapon or other agency which blew a crater in the front of its body, also
blasted it backwards against the hull with the results you can see. Perhaps it
was trying to protect its ship from some-thing, or someone. If the crew were
defenders rather than at-
tackers their lethal assault on Terragar's computer systems may have been due to
a panic reaction following an earlier attack as ell as a simple, first-contact
misunderstanding."
"You could be right," said the captain, "but I think you're giving them the
benefit of a very large doubt-----" It reached towards the equipment satchel at
its waist. "Grab my backpack and use your thrusters to hold me steady while I
scrape off a specimen."
"Friend Fletcher ... !"
"Don't worry, Doctor," said the other, radiating reassurance as it produced a
short, broad-bladed screwdriver. "This thing is too simple and stupid to be
infected by a computer virus.... Oops. That's strange."
While it had been scraping hard to remove the largest of the specimens, the
tool's sharp blade had penetrated the hull and torn out a narrow triangle of
metal. It was surprisingly thin, structurally weak, and its underside was
covered by the fine, ge-ometrical shapes of integral circuitry. When it had
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bagged the original specimen, Fletcher removed the hull sample and placed it in
an insulated box as a precaution against possible electronic infection. The
captain's accompanying feelings of impatience and barely controlled excitement
suggested that it would rather be doing something else.
"I feel that you, too, have found something interesting, friend Fletcher," said
Prilicla. "What is it?"
'I don't know," the other replied. It secured the two spec-imens in its sample
box before going on. "I had time for a quick look into what seems to be a long,
thin and apparently empty compartment or corridor behind the access hatch. It
would be easier to show you, Doctor. There's enough room for both of us, and
your extra helmet light will help us see whatever is in there, and, if
necessary, make a fast retreat."
CHAPTER 11
Their lights showed a length of corridor leading inboard whose walls, except for
a large cylindrical structure on one side that was enclosed by seamless metal
plating that was warped and heat-discolored, were composed of a lightly-built,
boxlike framework that appeared to be non-metallic. Continuous lengths of
open-mesh netting were secured to and stretched tightly along all four inner
surfaces of the framework and, about thirty meters inboard, a similar netted
passageway intersected theirs at right angles. When the captain's foot caught
accidentally in the netting, the whole corridor vibrated for a moment before
returning to stillness.
"That wall netting tells us one important fact about their level of technology,"
said Fletcher, for the benefit of the recorder as well as Prilicla. "They don't
have artificial gravity. And look at the internal supporting structure of the
hull. It reminds me of the interior of one of Earth's old-time zeppelins—it's
just a light framework on which to hang a streamlined skin that will aid passage
through a planetary atmosphere."
"A skin," Prilicla reminded it gently, "that your second specimen suggests could
be one single, overall, multipurpose sensor.
"Yes, indeed," Fletcher said. It pointed at the warped metal Under near them and
went on. "I want to take a closer look at that later. From its size and shape
I'd say that it houses one of a air of matched hyperdrive generators which
malfunctioned, ei-ther by accident or through malicious intent, and caused them
to detonate a distress beacon."
Fletcher moved its vision pickup carefully so as to sight it inboard between the
open mesh of the net. Prilicla pointed his helmet light in the same direction.
"Several more enclosed structures are visible," it resumed. "All are
solidly-built, some with complicated shapes and many projections which badly
needed that streamlined outer hull. They appear to be joined to each other by a
latticework of structural-support members. All of the ones we can see are linked
together externally by short stretches of open-weave corridors like this one.
But our point of entry, which may not be the only one, was by a simple,
close-fitting, hinged cover that appears to allow ac-cess deep into the entire
ship. It was not a pressurized seal, and nowhere can we see anything like an
airlock.
"But then," the captain added, allowing itself a small bark, 'a crew of
intelligent robots wouldn't need air.
"There is no obvious threat here at present," it went on, "so I shall continue
the investigation deeper inside the ship. In case of unforeseen developments,
Doctor, would you like to remain here so that you can make a fast getaway?"
Prilicla was silent for a moment while common sense and 18 evolutionary
imperative of survival through cowardice warred with the intensity of his
curiosity, and lost.
"I would like to remain here," he said, "but I won't. Lead the way."
The captain didn't reply but its feelings regarding such stu-P«i behavior were
very plain.
Slowly and carefully and with many pauses while Fletcher directed its vision
pickup at objects that might or might not be of importance, they continued to
move inboard while Fletcher described everything it saw and deduced in its flat,
unemotional, observer's voice.
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Their helmet lights showed many cable looms running along the members that
joined the large and small structures and mechanisms that were coming into view.
Some of the ca-ble runs were attached to the outer framework of the passages
they were traversing, and clearly visible. The individual lengths were
color-coded, their graduation in coloration and shading suggesting that the
visual sensitivity of the ship's crew was slightly higher than that of
Prilicla's Earth-human companion, but lower than his own. When they drew level
with a large, blocky mechanism of indeterminate purpose with what was ob-viously
a control panel and two access hatches on it, the captain's curiosity became so
intense that Prilicla felt obliged to issue a warning.
"No, friend Fletcher," he said. "Look but don't touch."
"I know, I know," it replied with a flash of irritation. "But how else can I
find out what it is and does? I can't believe that these people—robots or
whatever—would plant a virus to booby-trap every internal control panel and
hatch. That wouldn't make sense. It would lead to a lot of unnecessary accidents
among the crew."
"The robot crew," said Prilicla, "should be resistant to their ship's computer
viruses."
"Good point," said the captain. "But so far there has been no sign of them. Are
they in their quarters? If so, what would the accommodations for a crew of
robots look like?"
It didn't speak again until they came to the next intersection, a T-junction
leading into a passageway that led fore and aft to the limit of visibility
provided by their helmet lights. The support frames carried what seemed like
hundreds of differently-coded cable runs and the new passageway was obviously a
main trunk route for crew members, but it was no wider or deeper then any of the
others they had encountered.
That suggested infrequent traffic, Prilicla thought, or a small crew.
"We have to find out what this ship can do," said the captain suddenly, "apart
from simply killing other ships. For our own defense we must learn and
understand its weapons capability and, if possible, that of its attacker. Next
time I'll bring something more intelligent than a screwdriver. A radiation
sensor, perhaps, that will work without being in direct contact with the target
object----"
"Friend Fletcher," Prilicla broke in, "would you please be silent and absolutely
still?"
The captain opened its mouth and shut it again without speaking. As it waited
motionless, the curiosity, puzzlement, and increasing anxiety it was radiating
hung about it like a thick fog.
"You may relax, friend Fletcher, at least for a few minutes," said Prilicla
finally, directing his helmet light forward. "I thought I detected vibration in
the corridor netting that was not being made by us, and I was right. Something
is moving aft towards us. It is not yet visible. Shall we withdraw, I hope?"
"I want a look at it first," said the captain. "But stay behind me in case
hostilities break out. Better still, you head back to Rhabwar, now."
The calm, controlled expectancy with a minimum of fear that was being radiated
by the other compared very favorably with Prilicla's own cowardly feelings. He
moved a few meters behind the captain but no farther.
In the netting around them the vibration increased, and suddenly it was within
range of their helmet lights, a flattened, ovoid shape that moved like an
enormous blob of animated quicksilver. The digits of the six short appendages
spaced equally around its body were grasping the netting expertly and using it
to pull the creature rapidly towards them, but at a distance of ten meters or so
it slowed to a stop. Obviously it was watching them.
"Friend Fletcher," Prilicla said anxiously, "don't open your satchel—a tool
could be mistaken for a weapon—or make any movements that might seem
threatening."
"I know the first-contact procedures, Doctor," said the cap-tain irritably.
Slowly it released its hold on the netting and ex-tended its two empty hands
palms-outward.
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A subjective eternity passed that must have lasted all of ten seconds without a
response from the alien. Then its body rotated slowly through ninety degrees
until the back or underside was directly facing them. Its six tiny hands were
tightly gripping the netting all around it.
"It doesn't seem to be armed and its action isn't overtly hostile," said the
captain, glancing backwards over its shoulder, "and plainly it doesn't want us
to go any farther. But what can the rest of the crew be doing? Moving to cut off
our retreat?"
"No, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla in gentle disagreement. "I have a feeling
that..."
"Doctor," the other broke in incredulously, "are you saying that you're
detecting feelings from this, this robot?"
"Again, no," he replied, less gently. "It is what you would call a hunch, or a
guess, based on observation. I have the feeling that we are meeting half of the
ship's crew and that we met the damaged other half on Terragar. There are small
differences in size and body configuration which lead me to think that the
damaged specimen was the male and this one is the female equiv-alent. . .."
"Wait, wait," the captain broke in again, its emotional ra-diation a confusion
of surprise and disbelief with a flash of the unsubtle humor associated with the
cruder aspects of reproduc-tion. It went on: "Are you saying that the design of
these robots is so sophisticated that they have the means to reproduce
sexu-ally? That would imply the implantation of a metallic sperm equivalent and
an exchange of non-organic DNA and ... It's ri-diculous! I just can't believe
that robots, even highly intelligent robots, would need a sexual act to
reproduce their kind, and I didn't see anything resembling sex organs on either
of them."
"Nor did I," said Prilicla. "As I've already told you, it was a simple matter of
differences in body mass and configuration. This one appears to be slimmer and
more graceful. But now I would like you to do something for me, friend Fletcher.
Several things, in fact."
The other's emotional radiation was settling down but it didn't speak.
"First," Prilicla went on, "I want you to move forward, slowly, until you've
closed to half the present distance from the robot, and observe its reaction."
The captain did so, then said, "It hasn't moved and I think its hands are
gripping the net even more tightly. Obviously it doesn't want us to pass. What's
the next thing?"
"Move around behind me," said Prilicla. "It may consider you to be a threat even
though you've taken no hostile action. Your body mass is over twice that of the
robot, your limbs are long and thick and strange to it. My body is also strange
but I don't believe anyone or anything would consider me a threat or, hopefully,
wish to harm me physically.
"Then I want you to return to Rhabwar," he went on before the other could
respond. "Move the ship away, a distance of half a mile should be enough, and
come back for me when I signal. You will not have a long wait because fairly
soon I will be close to the limit of my physical endurance."
The other was radiating such a combination of surprise, bewilderment, and
intense concern for his safely, that it was mak-mg his limbs tremble.
"Friend Fletcher," he said firmly, "I need the area of this ship to be totally
clear of all extraneous emotional interference, especially yours."
The captain exhaled so deeply that the sound in his headset like a rushing wind,
then it said, "You mean you want to be left alone and unprotected in an alien
ship while you try to pick up emotional radiation from a machine? With respect,
Doctor, I think you're mad. If I allowed you to do that, Pathologist Mur-chison
would have my guts for garters."
It was a colorful and physiologically-inaccurate Earth-human expression Prilicla
had encountered before, and knew its meaning. He said firmly, "But you will
allow it and do exactly as I say, friend Fletcher, because this is a disaster
site and I have the rank."
Gradually the principal source of emotional interference that was Fletcher
diminished with distance as the captain retraced its path to their entry point
and jetted towards Rhabwar, and a few minutes later the faint background of
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emotional noise from the ambulance ship's crew was gone as well. Very slowly and
cautiously Prilicla extended one long, fragile arm and moved dose to the robot.
"I think I'm mad, too," he said softly to himself.
Lightly he touched the robot in the center of what he as-sumed was the cranial
swelling on its forebody. His gloves were nsulated but very thin and he was
expecting anything from a faint, tingling sensation to a lethal bolt of
lightning, but nothing happened at all.
He concentrated his entire mind on his empathic faculty to force it into maximum
sensitivity. As well as receiving the emo-ional radiation of patients, injured
casualties, and accident sur-ivors, he possessed a projective empathic ability
which, if the receiving entity was not too distressed by fear or pain, could be
used to pacify and reassure. It was the reason why most people felt good around
him and why he had so many friends. As an id to focusing the effect rather than
in an effort to communicate, he began to speak.
"I mean you no harm," he said. "If you are in trouble, sick, injured, or
malfunctioning, I want to help you. Disregard my liter shape and that of the
other person who was with me, and
the others you may meet. We must look strange and frightening to you, but we all
mean you well...."
He repeated the message while continuing to project reas-surance, sympathy, and
friendship at maximum intensity and, while doing so, he moved his hand to the
middle of the robot's body and changed his touch into a soft, gentle push.
Abruptly it released its grip on the netting with four of its hands and used the
other two to pull itself rapidly away from him. It was about to disappear
forward beyond the range of his light when it paused and began to move back
towards him again. When it was about five meters distant it stopped, then began
to move away more slowly.
Plainly it wanted him to follow it, which, after a moment of fearful hesitation,
he did.
The passageway was leading directly towards a complex structure that seemed to
fill the interior of the vessel's bow sec-tion. The bracing members radiating
from it and the framework of the passageway he was following were festooned with
cable looms, many showing the distinctive color-coding of the outer hull's
sensor network.
He was beginning to feel something.
"Are you doing this," he called ahead to the to the robot he was following, "or
is it your superintelligent captain robot?"
It continued moving forward without replying. There was nothing on its silvery
body surface that resembled a mouth, so probably it couldn't.
The feeling that came to him was so tenuous that it verged on the insubstantial,
but it was increasing slowly in strength. At first he was unsure whether it was
originating from one mind or a group of them; then he decided that it was coming
from two separate thinking and feeling beings. Both of them felt distressed and
frightened, and, as well, one was puzzled and intensely cu-rious while the other
was radiating the claustrophobic panic char-acteristic of close confinement and
sensory deprivation.
So far as he could feel, neither of them were in any pain nor were they
exhibiting the fear characteristic of imminent termi-nation, but then, he
thought, thinking robots might not have such feelings. For a more accurate
emotional reading he needed to get much closer to them, but that was triply
impossible.
He was at the end of the passage and facing the solid wall of the structure that
probably housed them. Although there was a convenient panel filled with colored
buttons and switches, he had no idea of the operating principles of the actuator
mecha-nism that would allow entry or the damage he might do—not least to
himself—if he tried and failed. And most important of all, he was fast running
out of conscious time.
Prilicla was still frightened but for some odd reason he no longer felt
threatened by his situation. Still, it would be consid-ered an act of utter
stupidity and carelessness if he were to fall asleep in the middle of an alien
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starship.
CHAPTER 12
When Prilicla wakened he felt rested and clearheaded but he was also feeling, in
spite of the source being half the ship's length away, the angry impatience of
the captain. He had been semicomatose from fatigue when he had returned from the
alien vessel, and had not been able to make a coherent report, and now friend
Fletcher was waiting to talk to him. The trouble was that he was still feeling
so confused by his discoveries inside the ship that the report would sound
incoherent. He needed more time to think.
Cowardice—both physical and moral—and procrastination were second nature to him.
He flew down the central well to the casualty deck and used its communicator to
contact Pathologist Murchison for a detailed report on the condition of
Terragar's casualties.
It told him that Captain Davidson and the two surviving officers were stable,
responding to the limited treatment available in a temporary medical facility,
and being maintained on a reg-imen of IV feeding and heavy sedation. Personally,
it felt that the quarantine arrangements between the patients and the ambu-lance
ship were totally unnecessary, and a rapid casualty transfer to Rhabwar and a
fast return to Sector General for more aggres-sive treatment were indicated. It
ended by saying that the inves-
tigation and first-contact situation with a bunch of intelligent robots was a
technical matter and none of their medical business Prilicla was unable to
detect the pathologist's emotional ra-diation from orbit, naturally, but he
could imagine the intense irritation and concern it and the rest of the team
were feeling for their patients. He also knew that friend Fletcher would be
rou-tinely monitoring all radio traffic between the ship and the sur-face so
that what he was about to say would mean that he could not delay speaking to the
captain any longer.
"Friend Murchison," he said gently, "I don't foresee an im-mediate return to
Sector General because the situation here is becoming more complicated. There
are two other-species casu-alties on the alien vessel who may also require
attention...."
"Other-species casualties!" it broke in. "Sir, with respect, we're not running a
bloody robot-repair shop down here."
"You are assuming that the alien casualties are non-organic life forms," he
replied. "That may not be so. But I have no wish to answer the same questions
twice, so keep your communica-tions channel open and listen in while I talk to
the captain. I can feel friend Fletcher very badly wanting to talk to me."
"You're right, Doctor," said the captain as he flew onto the control deck a few
minutes later. It gestured towards the com-municator whose monitor light was
showing and went on, "What was that all about? Other-species casualties? What
did you find after I left you alone back there?"
Prilicla hesitated, but not for long because the other's im-patience was so
intense that it was making him tremble. He said, "I'm not sure what it was that
I found, and even less sure of what it means...."
Briefly he described the events following the captain's de-parture for Rhabwar,
the silent but obvious efforts of the robot crew member to entice him to follow
it forward to the end of the central passageway where he could go no farther,
and all that he had seen, thought, and felt there.
"... On the way back," he continued, "I decided that I had enough time to spare
before I fell asleep to explore the ship's stern, and followed the passageway
all the way aft. The inside of of that ship is like a three-dimensional spider's
web, with thin supporting and bracing members, open-netting passageways,
and most of all, cable runs linking the major internal structures. Considering
the color-coding on the majority of the cable looms I saw__especially those
linking the microcircuitry underlying the
ship's outer hull to what is presumably the control center for-ward__there are
close similarities in the overall structure to the layout of major organs,
musculature, and central nervous system of an organic life-form. The skin is
highly sensitive and we know how it can react to an attack, or what it thinks is
an attack, by an outside agency.
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"We were safe," he went on quickly, "because we entered through the damaged
hatch, which is analogous to a traumatized and desensitized surface wound. The
forward structure obviously houses the brain and . .."
"Wait, wait," said the captain, holding up one hand. "Are you telling me that
the whole ship is alive? That it's an intelligent, self-willed star-traveling
machine like its robot crew members, only bigger? And that all that stopped you
getting into its com-puter superbrain—or, from what we overheard you tell
Pathol-ogist Murchison, its two superbrains—was a simple, structural impediment
and your lack of physical endurance?"
"Not exactly," Prilicla replied. "There has to be a non-organic interface, but
I'm beginning to suspect that the two con-trolling brains belong to organic
life-forms, with feelings. I won't be able to prove that until you find a way of
getting me into the brain housing.
I need to go back inside that ship," he ended, "for an ex-tended stay."
The captain and everyone else on the control deck were staring at him, their
emotional radiation too complex for indi-ual feelings to be isolated. It was
Murchison on the commu-nicator who broke the silence.
"Sir," it said, "I strongly advise against this. We're not deal-ing with
ordinary casualties here ..."
"Define an 'ordinary casualty,' " said Prilicla quietly.
"... being recovered from the usual run of space wreckage," it went on, ignoring
the interruption. "This could be—in fact it was, so far as Terragar was
concerned—an actively hostile vessel. Its hyperdrive is out, but otherwise there
appears to be only su-perficial hull damage. In spite of your theory that its
sensors are only skin-deep, there may be internal booby-traps that could injure
or kill you because you don't understand the technology behind them. Captain
Fletcher is the specialist in other-species technology. At least let him open up
this metal cranium before you go in."
While Murchison had been speaking, the captain had been nodding its head and
radiating agreement.
"I agree with both of you," Prilicla said. "The trouble is that while the
captain is a topflight solver of alien puzzles, it is not an empath. The
moment-to-moment feelings of the beings we are trying to recover could be a very
important guide to whether or not we are doing the rescue work properly. The
captain and my-self will do it together.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, gently changing the subject, "is the information you
have now enough to send that hyperspace message?"
"Enough for a preliminary report," the captain replied, ra-diating anxiety. "My
problem will be making it short enough not to drain our power reserves."
Prilicla was well aware of the problem. Unlike the detona-tion of a hyperspace
distress beacon, which was simply a location signal and an incoherent cry for
help, this message had to carry intelligence. It had to carry it in spite of all
the intervening sun-spot activity, charged gas clouds, and other forms of
stellar in-terference that would be tearing it into incoherent shreds. The only
solution that had been found was to make the message brief
and concise and to repeat it as many times as the transmitting station's
available power would allow so that a receiver could process it filter out the
interstellar mush, and piece the remaining fragments together to obtain
something like the original signal. A surface station with virtually unlimited
power reserves, a major space installation like Sector General, or even one of
the Monitor Corps' enormous capital ships could send messages lengthy enough for
later processing with clarity. Smaller vessels like Rhab-war had to reduce the
possibility of additional local interference from a planet's gravity field by
transmitting their signals from space, and even then they had to trust to the
experience and intuition of the person manning the receiver.
But the captain was radiating a level of anxiety greater than that warranted by
simple concern over the wording of a con-densed situation report.
"Is the necessarily compressed wording of the signal your only problem,"
Prilicla asked, "or are the two new aliens a com-plication?"
"Yes, and no," the captain replied. "There will be too few words available for
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me to include either complicated arguments or reasons for what I want done. Are
you quite sure that the two new ones you found are organic rather than robotic
life-forms? And would you object if the signal expressed doubt on that point?"
"No, and no," said Prilicla. "The emotional contact was tenuous. Perhaps it is
possible for a really advanced computer to have feelings, but there is doubt in
my mind. Something else is worrying you, friend Fletcher. What is it?"
The captain sighed, and embarrassment diluted its feelings of anxiety as it
said, "This whole situation is potentially very dangerous and, if it isn't
handled correctly, it could develop into a greater threat to the Pax Galactica
than the Etlan War... I mean, police action. I want to order this solar system
to be placed quarantine, interdicted to all service and commercial traffic
and contact forbidden to all personnel other than those presently on-site. That
includes medical assistance, first-contact specialists or technical
investigators, and there must be no exceptions.
"My worry," it ended quietly, "is whether or not my su-periors will obey that
order."
In spite of its efforts at emotional control, the captain was radiating a level
of concern that verged on outright fear. Fletcher, as Prilicla knew from long
experience of working with it, rarely felt fear even in situations where it
would have been warranted. Perhaps, considering their initial contact with the
outwardly un-damaged but utterly devastated Terragar, the other was fright-ening
itself needlessly. Or, more likely, it understood the nature of this
technological threat better than could a medic like himself. Either way, it was
a time to offer reassurance.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, "please remember who and what you are. You are the
Corps' most experienced and respected spe-cialist in the investigation of unique
other-species technology, otherwise you would not have been given operational
command of this, the greatest and most non-specialized recovery vessel ever
built. When your superiors consider this fact, I have no doubt that your orders
will be obeyed.
"I'm assuming," Prilicla went on, "that the medical team will remain here with
Rhabwar since we are best-suited to solving a unique problem that is both
technological and medical. How-ever, allowances must be made for the natural
curiosity of your higher-ranking colleagues. They will probably send at least
one fast courier vessel for information-gathering purposes, in addi-tion to the
ship we need to transfer the Terragar casualties to Sector General...."
"My point exactly!" Fletcher broke in, a burst of anger briefly overshadowing
its anxiety. "A quarantine is either in force or it isn't, but for what may or
may not prove to be good, medical reasons, even you are willing to break it.
Everyone must be made to realize that we are faced with the technological
equivalent of a plague. You and your team know this, you've seen what it can
, for yourselves, and still you are willing to compromise by ..." It raised its
hands briefly and radiated helplessness. "If I can't convince you, what chance
is there of a mere captain and glorified ambulance driver telling fleet
commanders and and higher what to do and making it stick? I don't have enough
bloody rank."
"Together, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "we might have enough. I suggest you
draft the signal you wish to send, and if you wouldn't mind, let me see it and
perhaps suggest amend-ments before transmission with a view to increasing its
effectiveness----
"I'd do that anyway," the captain broke in angrily, "as a matter of professional
courtesy. But I won't promise to insert your changes. Considering the power
requirements, that signal must be clear, concise, and contain absolutely no
excess verbiage."
"... While you're doing that," Prilicla went on gently, as if the interruption
was a figment of everyone's imagination, "I'll check on the condition of the
Earth-human casualties before try-ing to get close enough to identify the two on
the alien ship."
The captain was radiating feelings of disbelief. "You mean you want to go back
in there?"
"As soon as possible," he replied.
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Within the first few minutes it became clear that he was not urgently required
in the medical station. Terragar's casualties were stable, responding well to
treatment, and showing signs of significant improvement although the grafting,
reconstructive surgery and lower-limb replacements should be done as soon as
Practicable at the hospital. But if he was reading correctly be-tween the lines
of dialogue, there was a problem. Unlike his em-Phatic faculty, intuition was
not affected by distance.
I think there is something other than the patients' clinical condition worrying
you, friend Murchison," he said. "What is the Problem, and does it require my
presence?"
No, sir," the other replied quickly. "I'm ashamed to say, the problem is sheer
boredom. We're all cooped up in this bunch of high-tech medical shoeboxes with
virtually nothing to fill our time except watch the patients getting better
while outside the sun is shining, the sea is blue, and the sand is warm. It's as
environmentally perfect as the hospital's recreation deck except that it's
bigger and it's real. Sir, it feels as if we're on vacation but confined to our
hotel bedrooms.
"Subject to the usual safety checks," it went on, "we'd like permission to take
turns exercising and relaxing outside. This really is a lovely place. The
casualties would benefit from the fresh air and sunshine as well, especially if
our stay here is likely to be extended. Is it?"
"It is," said Prilicla. "Rhabwar will have to remain in orbit to investigate the
alien vessel and its crew, who may themselves be with you soon as casualties.
Permission granted, friend Mur-chison. But remember that this is a completely
strange as well as a pleasant world, so be very careful."
"You, too, sir," she replied.
He ended the transmission as the captain pointed at its own screen and spoke.
"You wanted to see this before I send it off," it said. "Well, what do you
think?"
Prilicla hovered above the screen for a moment, studying it, then he said, "With
respect, friend Fletcher, I think it is too polite, too subservient, and too
long. You should tell your superiors what you want done, as I will also do,
without regard to the high rank of those concerned. Because of our knowledge of
the situ-ation here, limited as it is, we have the rank. May I?"
He felt Fletcher's agreement before it could reply, and dropped his
feather-light digits onto the keyboard. The original draft, scaled down, moved
to the corner of the screen and the new one appeared. It read:
TO: GALACTIC FEDERATION EXECUTIVE; COPIES FEDERATION MEDICAL COUNCIL; SECTOR
TWELVE GENERAL HOSPITAL; MON-ITOR CORPS HIGH COMMAND; SECTOR MARSHAL DERMOD,
FLEET COMMANDERS, ALL SHIP CAPTAINS, AND OFFICERS OF SUBORDINATE RANK.
WITH IMMEDIATE EFFECT THIS SOLAR SYSTEM IS TO BE PLACED IN QUARANTINE.
REASONS: UNIQUE TECHNOLOGICAL AND/OR MEDICAL THREAT BY DISTRESSED ALIEN SHIP
MOUNTING UNIQUE WEAP-ONRY CAPABLE OF DESTROYING ALL SPACE VESSELS REGARD-LESS OF
SIZE OR POWER RESOURCES. DISTANCE IS ONLY KNOWN SAFEGUARD.
THREE TERRAGAR SURVIVORS RECOVERED. RHABWAR IN-VESTIGATING ALIEN SHIP AND TRYING
TO CONTACT CREW.
REQUEST TWO COMMUNICATIONS VESSELS TO BE STA-TIONED MINIMUM OF FIVE MILLION
MILES DISTANCE TO RELAY LATER INFORMATION AS IT BECOMES AVAILABLE. ALL OTHER
VESSELS AND PERSONNEL REGARDLESS OF SPECIALITY OR RANK ARE EXPRESSLY ORDERED TO
STAY CLEAR.
NO REPEAT NO EXCEPTIONS. FLETCHER, COMMANDING RHABWAR
PRILICLA SENIOR PHYSICIAN, SECTOR GENERAL
For a long moment the captain stared at the screen while it regained control of
its feelings, then it said reluctantly, "It's shorter and ... well, better. But
Sector Marshal Dermod doesn't usually receive messages like this from
subordinates. He and his staff will probably have a collective fit. I didn't
realize, Doctor, that you could be so, so .. ."
"Nasty?" said Prilicla. "You're forgetting, friend Fletcher, that your sector
marshal is halfway across the Galaxy, and I am unable to detect its emotional
radiation over interstellar dis-tances."
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CHAPTER 13
It was a rule of interspecies medicine to which no exception had ever been found
that pathogens which had evolved on one world could not affect or infect any
creature belonging to an-other. There was nothing in this world's microbiology,
therefore, that could threaten her. But that did not stop Danalta, in the
respectful manner befitting a subordinate, from insisting that Murchison take no
chances with the life-forms that were large enough to see.
The shape-changer had already scouted the beach, shallows, and the trees and
undergrowth inland to a distance of five hun-dred meters, for evidence of large
and possibly harmful life-forms. A few varieties of water-breathing and
amphibious creatures inhabited the shallows, tiny animals and insects crawled or
flew among the tree roots and branches, but none of them were large enough to
constitute a physical threat. This did not mean that they could be completely
ignored. Pathogens could not jump the off-world species barrier, Danalta
reminded her unnecessarily, but insects secreting organic toxins in poison sacs
were capable of delivering painful if not lethal stings, the crablike
sea-dwellers could nip, and all of them, should they feel threat-ened or hungry
enough, could bite.
That was why she was walking along a golden beach without the gentle abrasion of
hot sand between her toes while, " from her uncovered face and the backs of
her bare hands, much of the sun's heat was being reflected away by her white
rails In this situation she would have preferred to wear much and the other
members of the team would neither have cared or noticed if she had worn nothing
at all because Earth-humans were one of the few intelligent species with a
nudity taboo. The others covered themselves only when their working environment
required the wearing of body protection. In spite of her advanc-ing years, Peter
kept telling her with maximum ardor and min-imum poetry—and when his brain was
not so busy with other-species mind partners that he was unsure of who and what
he was and why they were lying together—that she was in very good shape.
She wished he were with her now, under this real sky rather than the artificial
one on the hospital's crowded recreation deck, with his mind his own, its
professional concerns forgotten, and his attention concentrated entirely on her.
But, she supposed, being the life-mate of the renowned Conway, Sector General's
Diagnostician-in-Charge of Other-Species Surgery, had to have a few
disadvantages. He couldn't take a vacation of opportunity like this just because
she wanted to and he probably needed it. She sighed and continued walking.
Beside her Danalta rolled silently over the sand. In keeping with the occasion,
and because it liked to give gratuitous exhi-'itions of its shape-changing
prowess, it had adopted the form a recreational plaything much-favored by
Earth-humans, a large beach ball. It was covered overall by triangles of garish
red, - yellow and blue; the eye, ear, and mouth were inconspicuous -. the visual
effect was quite realistic, but the track that it made in the sand was too deep
to have been made by an air-filled ball. Danalta regardless of the shape it
took, was unable to reduce its considerable body-weight. The pretty ball would
never bounce. Would you like to move inland?" said Danalta, stopping suddenly
an<} extruding a bright green, Earth-human hand and index finger to point. "That
hill is only a mile away and seems to be the highest point on the island. From
there we might be able to see features of special interest to explore later, and
possibly the nearer islands."
As well as being a show-off, the polymorph was intensely curious about
everything regardless of shape or size, and the harder it was to mimic, the
better it liked it.
"Fine," said Murchison. "But in case we're needed urgently I want to stay as
close as possible to our patients. There's a stream that runs past the med
station into the sea. We'll go back and follow it inland to its source, which
should be on high ground. Do you agree?"
It was a rhetorical question, and even though she wasn't in the habit of pushing
her rank, they both knew it. For the first hundred meters or so, the nearby
environment could have been that found on any sun-drenched, tropical island on
her home world. The stream was less than two meters wide but fast-flowing so
that the stones on its bed were washed clean and showed many different colors
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and patterns of veining. It was only when her walk, and Danalta's roll, took
them inland and under the trees that the differences began to show. The
chlorophyll-green of the leaves looked the same but the shapes were subtly
different as was the soft carpet which was not of grass that grew along the
banks of the stream from damp earth that was not of Earth. A little shiver of
pure wonder made her twitch her shoulders, as it always did when she encountered
a com-pletely alien planet that looked and felt so entirely familiar. Then as
they moved deeper under the trees, the amount of vegetation bearing large,
sunflower-like blooms increased. The petals on many of them had dropped away to
reveal clusters of pale green . fruit buds. There would be no problem with
cross-pollination here, she thought as the insects began to swarm.
Very definitely they were like nothing on Earth. They ranged in size from the
virtually invisible to several stick-insect varieties whose bodies were nearly
six inches long. A few of them were rounded, black and shiny, with wings that
beat so rapidly that they seemed to be surrounded by a grey fog, but
majority were brightly colored in concentric circles of yellow and red with
multiple sets of wide, slower-beating gossamer wings that threw back constantly
changing, iridescent highlights.
They were gorgeous, she thought, and some of them made even Prilicla look dowdy.
Most of them were heading towards Danalta, obviously at-tracted by the garishly
colored beach-ball body it had adopted.
"They seem to be curious rather than hungry," said the shape-changer. "None of
them has tried to bite me."
"That's sensible of them," said Murchison nervously as they lost interest in
Danalta and began moving towards her. "Maybe they've realized that you're
indigestible."
"Or I have the wrong smell," it replied. "I've just now ex-truded an olfactory
sensor pad. There are a lot of strange smells in this area."
Smells, Murchison thought, was not the word she would have used to describe
them. The subtle combination of scents being given off by the aromatic
vegetation around them was something that the fashion perfume houses on Earth
would have sold their souls for. But the insects were now homing in on her.
Instinctively she wanted to swat them aside, but knew that might make them
excited and hostile. Instead she raised one hand very slowly to her opened
helmet visor so that she could snap it dosed at the first sign of an attack. Her
hand remained there, tense and motionless, for several minutes while the insects
large and small swarmed around her head without actually touching her race,
until they lost interest and returned to their own con-cerns.
Relieved, she lowered her hand and said, "Apparently they're non-hostile, They
don't want to bite Earth-human DBDGs, either."
Which meant that, should their stay on this island paradise be delayed for any
reason, the Terragar casualties could be moved outside for a few hours every
day. She had always been a believer in the efficacy of natural fresh air and
sunshine in the post-on treatment of casualties, a form of treatment not
available in Sec-tor General.
Puzzled, she said, "No animal or insect species, regardless of its size, can be
universally friendly and hope to survive. These seem to be the exception that
proves the rule. Let's move on."
The ground began to rise gently, the trees opened out into a large clearing and
the stream became a wide, shallow pool whose bottom was covered by broad-leafed
plants, each of which floated a single, radiant bloom on the surface, and they
saw their first non-insect life-form.
Three fat, piglike animals with mottled yellow-and-brown skin, narrow, conical
heads, and sticklike legs were wading in the shallows, nibbling at the flowers
or pulling up the subsurface greenery. When Murchison's shadow fell across them
they made bleating noises and ran splashing up the bank to disappear into the
long vegetation that was not grass. From all over the clearing and under the
surrounding trees came the sound of more bleat-ing, and a much larger version of
the same animal pushed through the greenery to stand and look at them for a
moment before apparently losing interest and moving away.
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"That must have been Mama or Papa," said Murchison. "But have you noticed, even
the adult life-form is placid and unafraid and without aggressive tendencies or
obvious natural weapons, and so far we've seen no sign of any predators or prey.
Prilicla would just love this place. Have you seen any signs of
bird life?"
Murchison went down on one knee and shaded her eyes with both hands in an
attempt to reduce sky reflection while she studied the subsurface features more
closely. A few minutes later she stood up again.
"None," said Danalta, "but one must expect strangeness on a strange planet. Are
you ready to move on?"
The ground ahead began to slope more sharply, and a few minutes later they
found the natural spring that was the source
of the stream bubbling out of a crevice in the ground that was showing several
flat outcroppings of rock. The trunks and branches of the trees competing for
the green areas between them were stunted and carried fewer blossoms and buds so
that the insect population was proportionately diminished. But it was still a
beautiful and relaxing place, especially with the breeze off the ocean finding
its way through the thinning vegetation and cool-ing her face. Murchison took a
deep breath of fresh, scented air and let it out again in a sound that was a
combination of a laugh and a sigh of sheer pleasure.
Danalta, who found no pleasure in fresh air, smells, or en-vironmental beauty,
extruded a pointing hand and said impa-tiently. "We're within fifty meters of
the highest point of the island."
The rounded summit was covered sparsely by trees, but not enough of them to
obstruct their all-around view over the island. Through the gaps in the
intervening foliage, Murchison could make out tiny areas of ocean, beach, and a
section of the white medical-station buildings. A scuffling sound on the ground
made her swing around to look at Danalta.
Its beach-ball configuration was collapsing, flattening out and spreading across
the ground like a mottled red, yellow, and green pancake. Suddenly it rolled
itself up into a long, cylindrical, caterpillar shape with a great many legs,
before heading for the highest tree. She watched as it wound itself around the
lower trunk corkscrew-fashion and began to climb rapidly. The view from up there
will be much better," it said.
Murchison laughed and moved to follow it. Silently she was calling herself all
kinds of a fool because if she were to become -Casualty through falling out of a
tree she would never live it down. But she was feeling like a child again, when
tree-climbing had figured high among her accomplishments, and the sun was
shining and all was right with this world and she just didn't care.
"Earth-human DBDGs can climb trees, too," she said. "Our prehistoric ancestors
did it all the time."
A few minutes later she was as close to the top as it was safe to go, with one
arm wrapped around the trunk and a branch that looked strong enough to bear her
weight gripped tightly between her knees. Danalta, whose latest body-shape
enabled it to dis-tribute its weight more evenly than her own, was clinging to
the thinner branches a few meters above her. The view over the island and beyond
was perfect.
In all directions they could see across the dark green, uneven carpet of
treetops and clearings to the ragged edges where it met the beach. The medical
station looked like a collection of white building-blocks standing in the dark,
lengthening shadows of ap-proaching evening, and the ocean was empty except for
a tight group of pale blue swellings that were probably the mountaintops of a
large island that was below the horizon. Danalta extruded an appendage to point
slightly to one side of the distant moun-tains.
"Look," it said. "I can see a bird. Do you?"
Murchison stared hard in the indicated direction. She thought she saw a tiny,
fuzzy speck almost touching the horizon, but it could just as easily have been
her imagination.
"I can't be sure. ..." she began, and broke off to stare at the thick
cylindrical member that was growing out of the top of Danalta's head. "Now what
are you doing?"
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"I'm maximizing my visual acuity," it replied, "by position-ing a lens of long
focal length the required distance from my retina and making small focusing
adjustments. Since the material is organic and the viewing base is moving
perceptibly in the wind, some distortion is to be expected, but I'm sure that I
can resolve the image to show . . ."
"You mean you're growing a telescope?" she broke in. "Dr. Danalta, you never
cease to surprise me."
"Definitely some kind of bird," it said—obviously pleased at the compliment—and
went on, "with a small body, wide, narrow wings and a triangular tail whose
outer edges are uneven. At this distance the size is uncertain. It appears to be
dark brown or grey in color and non-reflective. It has a short, thick neck but I
cannot resolve any details of the head and there are no other body projections,
so presumably its legs are folded for aerody-namic reasons. The wings do not
appear to be beating and it seems to be soaring on the air currents. It is close
to the horizon and shows no sign of dropping below it.
"Birds did not evolve on my home planet," it went on, "but I have studied the
various species with a view to possible mimicry. So far, the general appearance
and behavior of this one resembles that of a carrion-eater found on your own
planet. At this range anything else I could tell you would be mostly guesswork."
"Let's go back to the station," said Murchison quietly. "I want to be there
before sunset."
Danalta had spotted the planet's first bird, she thought, as she climbed to the
ground, and it seemed to be the equivalent of an outsized vulture, with all that
that implied. It was silly to feel so disappointed just because this
perfect-seeming world had shown its first imperfection.
CHAPTER 14
Captain Fletcher and Lieutenant Dodds were being extremely careful, Prilicla
noted with approval, and displaying a level of vigilance that elevated caution
to the status of a major art form. Phis time they were using Rhabwar's pinnace,
a vehicle normally used for evacuating space-wreck casualties whose condition
was lot serious enough to require litters, to move a variety of specially
insulated test equipment to a more convenient distance from the investigation
site. All of the analyzers had one or more backups, in case they probed a
sensitive area and the alien ship killed the instrument stone-dead as it had
done to Terragars sensors.
Not for the first time the captain was reminding them that he test instruments
and even the pinnace were expendable, but lot the people using them, which was
the reason why they were wearing insulated, self-powered spacesuits.
Rhabwar maintained its distance with a communications channel open while they
edged to a stop a few meters above the damaged area of the alien's hull, then
tethered their vehicle loosely to it with a simple magnetic pad attached to a
non-onducting cable.
"Sir," the lieutenant said as they were exiting the vehicle, ;Dr. Prilicla says
that this damaged area of hull—what it calls he surface wound—has apparently
become desensitized to outside stimuli and we can safely make contact there. But
shouldn't we check to make sure that other areas haven't been affected due to a
power leakage or other deterioration in its sensor circuitry? I suggest making a
few random tests. It might be that this metal carcass is dead by now and our
precautions are wasting
time."
"If it can be done without you killing yourself, Lieutenant," said the captain,
"then do it. You agree, Doctor?"
"Yes," said Prilicla. "That information would be helpful, friend Dodds.
Especially if you can find another access hatch that is closer to the ship's
brain section. From here we'll have to travel the internal walkways for more
than half the length of the ship. But be very careful."
"Of course," said Dodds. "This might be the only life I've got."
They watched as it positioned its powered suit a few meters from the hull and
began the first slow, lateral circuit of the ship that became a spiral leading
forward. Several times the lieutenant disappeared from view and Prilicla felt
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the captain's controlled worrying, but Dodds was in sight when it made its find.
"Sir," it said excitedly, "I've found what could be a cargo loading hatch. It's
about ten meters in diameter, flush-fitting, and the joins are so fine I almost
missed them. Inset is a two-foot rectangle, that looks as if it might give
access to the actuator controls. Along one side there is a group of three
recessed but-tons, but I won't touch them until I have some idea of what they do
and, in case they're booby-trapped in some way, the order in which they should
be pressed. I'm moving closer with the sensor now. The magnetic pads are holding
it to the hull. I've switched on- So far, no response from the ship."
The captain's level of worrying peaked then began to sub-side. It didn't speak.
"I'm using minimum power on the sensor," the lieutenant went on, "so the image
I'm getting is by induction rather than direct contact with the underlying
circuitry, and pretty vague.
The wiring is complex, and active. To trace the leads to the three actuator
buttons, I'll need to clarify the picture by using a little more power....
Bloody hell, the ship just did a Terragar on it! I'm sorry, sir, we need another
K-Three-thirty sensor. This one just died."
"Don't worry about it," said Fletcher. "It's expendable You're not. Continue
your search aft, report anything you find and then get back here and follow us
inside. We'll have to go in the long way."
To Prilicla it went on. "This vessel's weapons system baffles me. So far there
has been no sign of missile launchers, focused radiation projectors, or anything
that might be an other-species equivalent. They could still be there and I just
didn't recognize them, but... I'm reminded of a porcupine."
Prilicla didn't ask the obvious question because he knew it would be answered
when the other's thoughts stopped moving too fast for any possible verbal
communication. They were inside the ship at the first junction of the netting
walkways and turning in the direction of the control section before the other
spoke.
"It is a small, non-sapient Earth life-form," the captain went on, "with a soft
body that has no natural weapons of attack, but it possesses an overall covering
of body-spines that are long and sharp enough to discourage predators. If that
was the situation here, then killing Terragar's operating systems could have
been a mistaken act of self-defense because the aliens didn't know our ship was
simply trying to give assistance."
"A not entirely comforting theory, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "It infers
that there are other species, or perhaps other members of their own species, who
wanted to attack it. Why? Do they consider it a threat of some kind, or their
prey? Either way, they were able to inflict heat and blast damage. Remember,
of-fensive weapons were used against this vessel."
"I know," said the captain. It continued pulling itself along the netting for a
moment before it added, "But I'm beginning to wonder about that, too."
It did not elaborate although its emotional radiation was characteristic of a
mind engaged in intense cerebration. Dodds reported finding another large hatch,
presumably used for load-ing fuel or cargo, close to the stern thrusters, then
it rejoined them while they were still halfway along the central walkway and
heading forward. There it was that a robot crew member—per-haps the same one,
Prilicla suggested quietly, or maybe it was the only one—emerged from a side
walkway and began pulling itself rapidly along the netting to meet them. It
stopped about five meters from the captain, who was in the lead, and spread
itself out starfish-fashion with its six hands gripping strands of the netting
and barring their path towards the control section.
"The last time this happened, Doctor," Fletcher said, "you were alone, you gave
it a gentle push, and it moved back. Pre-sumably the action was not meant as an
obstruction so much as a warning to move carefully. Do you agree? I'll try a
very gentle push, with my feet. In case it tries to shock me, my boots have
thicker insulation."
The captain moved close, spread out its hands to grasp the netting on both sides
to stabilize itself, then very slowly and care-fully brought its feet forward to
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stop a few inches from the center of the robot's body. Its push was gentle to
the point of imperceptibility.
There was no response. It pushed a little harder, then with steadily increasing
pressure, but the robot only clung more tightly to the netting without moving
back an inch.
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "move back a little and let me past."
Without speaking but radiating puzzlement and impatience, the other did so and
flattened itself against the netting while Prilicla' s pressure globe squeezed
past. A few seconds later he touched the robot's body gently. Immediately it
released its grip on the netting and moved back slowly towards Control. Prilicla
likewise, but as soon as Fletcher and Dodds began to follow him it barred the
way again. The meaning of its action was plain.
"Why will it allow you past and not us?" said the captain "Does it think
Earth-humans are stronger and more of a physical threat to it than a Cinrusskin?
It's right, of course. But I've made no threatening moves towards it or ... I
don't understand this." "Maybe it doesn't like you, sir," said Dodds, laughing
ner-vously, "because your feet's too big."
Fletcher ignored its lieutenant's insubordination as well as the anxiety that
had caused it, and said, "With respect, I don't intend to wait here doing
nothing while you and your robot friend socialize. Dodds and I will follow you
to the next inter-section, then we'll try to find other walkways that will take
us around to the control section. Earlier you suggested that our metal friend
might be the only surviving crew member. If you're right, then it can't bar our
movements and stay with you at the same time. Keep your communicator channel
open at all times, Doctor, and have fun."
The robot hesitated in obvious indecision when the two of-ficers turned into a
side walkway, although Prilicla could not detect the emotional radiation that
should have accompanied it at such short range. But its movements were
communicating feel-ings—someone or something else's feelings—in a subtle form of
body language that he could read. There was a tenuous wisp of emotional
radiation in the area, much too faint to be readable, and he was now quite sure
that this robot was a highly sophis-ticated construct of limited intelligence
which was little more than the hands and eyes of an entity who, for reasons
still to be discovered, could not move.
But if he was being seen or his presence sensed in some other fashion through
this robot, it or they might have their own reasons other than sheer physical
size why they preferred the close approach of a Cinrusskin to that of
Earth-humans. In which case it might even be possible, considering the robot
crew mem-ber's lack of hostility, that they wanted to make contact with him.
That was why, when he reached the point of his previous closest approach to the
control section when fatigue had forced turn to Rhabwar, he stopped to hang
motionless with one f\ holding lightly onto the netting. The robot did the same.
For a moment he looked at the small, recessed panel with three colored buttons,
which was plainly the actuator for » nearby door, then with his free hand he
reached forward slowly to bring a digit to a stop one inch above each but-n in
turn, then he withdrew the hand and used the same fin-ger to point at the robot.
He repeated the process several times before the crew member reacted. It moved
back quickly the way they had come, to stop at and block the nearest walkway
intersection.
Bitterly disappointed, he thought, Now it doesn't want me here for some reason.
Or did it? The background emotional ra-diation was still too tenuous for clear
definition, but he could not feel anything that resembled strong rejection.
"Friend Fletcher," he said into the communicator, "I have a feeling that I may
be about to make progress. But the robot, or the agency presently directing it,
is uneasy and has placed it on guard at the entrance to the walkway you and
friend Dodds are using. Our radio traffic must be detectable so they know that
I'm talking to you although they won't know what I'm saying. That will have to
wait until we're able to program our translation computer for their language,
which will be a separate problem. But right now I want to reassure these people
by appearing to give you orders which you will plainly be obeying without delay
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or question. Will you comply, friend Fletcher?"
What orders?" said the captain in a guarded voice. To vacate the forward section
of the ship," said Prilicla, and move back to the place where we came on board.
We must it plain that you are no longer investigating the control Please do that
immediately."
But temporarily," said the captain firmly. "This ship is crammed with unique
technology which includes a weapon that threaten the peace and stability of the
Federation. It has to be investigated."
'Of course, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "but not now.
"Very well," the other replied, radiating equal levels of ir-ritation,
disappointment, and impatience. "I won't promise not to look around back there,
especially at the circuitry of the hull sensors. But don't worry, we won't do
anything to worry your robot friend. And if you should get into trouble, Doctor,
there's something you should know.
"From where we are now," it went on before he could re-spond, "we have a clear
view through the netting of a strongly supported, square-sectioned metal-walled
passageway leading from the big forward hatch that Dodds found to Control. I'd
say it was used to load bulk consumables or heavy equipment. In-ternally, the
structure shows no sign of the circuitry that underlies the hull. So if you
should need help quickly, we can cut a way into the passageway and get into
Control by the back door. I don't think a computer virus could travel up the
flame of my cutting torch.
"Keep this channel open, your recorders on at all times, and be careful," the
captain ended, its feeling of concern for him making it give unnecessary
warnings. "We're moving back now."
Prilicla watched as they withdrew towards the stern. When it was clear that they
were not intending to double-back to Con-trol, the robot moved back quickly to
Prilicla and the actuator panel. This time he could sense no hesitancy in its
body language, or that of its controller, as it began tapping keys. He was
noting the colors and sequence for future reference when the forward wall became
a large door that began sliding into a recess.
When it was fully open, bright orange lighting units placed at two-meter
intervals and recessed into what was presumably the ceiling came to life along
the length of another passageway that stretched ahead for close on thirty meters
to another inter-section. All four surfaces were opaque, made either from metal
or hardened plastic, and covered with netting where it was not interrupted by
transparent access hatches. Deliberately he moved them slowly so as to give his
vision pickup and himself a past then to see what lay on the other side. Through
one he had a Shortened view of the passageway leading from control to the hull
that Fletcher had mentioned earlier, but mostly there were only regimented
tangles of color-coded wiring. He was sensing faint but definite feelings of
uncertainty and impatience from somewhere.
.
As he reached the intersection the robot remained clinging to the netting of the
surface facing him. It made no move to guide him or block his way, so it seemed
that the choice of di-rection was being left to him. Prilicla was aware of two
distinct sources of emotional radiation, both of them organic. The robot
followed him as he moved into the side passage on his right and towards the
stronger of the two. The passage ended at another door and actuator panel.
The source of emotional radiation strengthened almost to the level of
readability.
CHAPTER 15
Again he positioned his hand a few inches from the panel and, without actually
touching the buttons, moved his in-dex finger from one to the other in the same
sequence the robot had used while opening the first door, then waited. Hopefully
he was displaying intelligence and memory as well as asking per-mission to
proceed.
If the combination on this door was different, and it was booby-trapped and he
was being allowed to make a mistake, then he might not survive the experience.
The robot moved closer to him but it did not interfere. He pressed the buttons,
the door slid open, and he moved slowly into the middle of another shorter,
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brightly lit passageway, then stopped.
His emotional radiation was so confused that for a long moment he could scarcely
analyze it himself.
"Are you getting this?" he said finally.
"Yes, Doctor," Haslam's voice replied from Rhabwar. It sounded excited. "But
remember to—"
"Getting what?" the captain's voice broke in impatiently.
"I don't know, sir," Haslam replied. "You'd have to see it for yourself. And Dr.
Prilicla, please remember to move your head and your helmet vision pickup very
slowly, and hold it steady on each area you are describing. In case of, well,
accidents. it’s very important if we're to have sharp images for laterâ€
Prilicla was well aware of that fact, but perhaps the other was trying to
reassure both itself and himself that he wouldn't be speaking for posterity.
He ignored the remark and went on. "As you can see, the surfaces of the walls,
floor, and ceiling of this stretch contain more transparent hatches than there
are opaque surfaces, and there is a major change in the configuration of the
netting. It is no longer attached to the wall surfaces and has instead been
re-placed by what appears to be a light, open-lattice metal cylinder. It runs
along the center of the passageway, is strongly supported at each end and, I
would say, forms a convenient working posi-tion for crew members needing access
to the systems behind the transparent hatches. Between the cylindrical net and
the trans-parent hatches there isn't much room for maneuvering ..."
But then, I don't need much, he added silently.
He moved forward along the cylindrical net in a slow spiral so as to cover all
the inner surfaces of the passageway, speaking as he went. At one particularly
large transparent panel he moved a hand close to its actuator buttons without
touching them. Im-mediately the robot moved closer to nudge the hand away. He
braced himself against the net and pressed his helmet and vision sensor firmly
against the transparency. The robot did not react. Plainly this is a case of
'Look but don't touch,' he went on.
"The wiring behind this panel is similar to that in the damaged robot crew
member we found on Terragar. I'm holding the vision pickup motionless against
the panel so that you'll be able to use high magnification on the image . . ."
I am," said Haslam with enthusiasm. "That looks good,
Doctor, whatever it is." -ere was an impatient sound of an Earth-human throat
" - cleared and the captain said irritably, "Dammit, will I have to go back to
Rhabwar to find out what you're doing here?" Prilicla didn't reply at once
because he had moved to an-
other panel. Even though the view revealed mechanisms and con nections much
cruder in design and fabrication than the previous one, once again his hand was
pushed away from the actuator mechanism.
He continued to describe clearly everything he was seeing and thinking, but not
what he was feeling. The emotional radi-ation in the area was strengthening as
he moved towards the other end of the passageway, but it was not yet clear
enough to describe even to himself.
"... This area appears to be dedicated to complex plumb-ing," he continued.
"There are single and grouped pipes, from half an inch to two inches in diameter
and distinctively color-coded. The fact that I was gently discouraged from
opening the access hatch is a measure of their importance. I can't remember
seeing piping with these codings on the way here. This makes me suspect that
they are a local phenomenon, and probably the con-duits and metering devices for
the crew's air supply, water, or whatever other working fluid they use, and
their food. Now I'm moving closer to another large door and actuator panel at
the other end of the passageway and will try to open it.... No, I won't."
While he had been speaking the robot had swarmed along to the opposite side of
the cylindrical net and interposed its body between Prilicla and the actuator
panel. Gently he slowly ex-tended a hand and tried to move it aside.
It resisted strongly but took no other action.
"Interesting," he said. "Apparently it trusts me, but not enough to let me go
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all the way in." To the captain he went on, "Friend Fletcher, earlier you
mentioned returning to Rhabwar to see what I am doing. Are you and the
lieutenant engaged on anything of vital importance at the moment?"
"We're investigating the interior hull circuitry and the leads to the power
source aft. But the short answer is no, so stop wast-ing time being polite. What
do you want me to do?"
"I want both of you to go back to Rhabwar," said Prilicla, «and await further
instructions... ."
"That means leaving you alone here," the captain broke in. »I don't feel happy
about that."
" Depending on how well things go here," Prilicla con-tinued, ignoring the
interruption, "I want you to send friend Dodds back with the portable holo
projector and the standard first-contact tapes. I detect no strong feelings of
personal ani-mosity here, but if it will make you feel better, then the
lieutenant may remain here. But it must stay well away from the control section.
For some reason the Earth-humans, or maybe just the DBDG body configuration,
make these people very much afraid."
"Not all humanoids are good guys," said Lieutenant Dodds. "Maybe they ran into
some hostile elements during the Etlan War...."
"The Etlan police action," Fletcher corrected automatically, and went on. "They
could have had a bad experience with Earth-human look-alikes during the
hostilities, or have entirely differ-ent reasons that we don't yet understand.
But Doctor, are you saying that you're ready to open communications with them?"
"I'm ready to try," said Prilicla.
He moved his helmet as close to the door as the robot would allow, then closed
his eyes and tried to empty his mind of all distractive thoughts and feelings
except for the tenuous fog of emotional radiation that he was trying to isolate
and identify.
As he had expected from a survivor of a wrecked ship, the strongest emotions
were negative. There was fear that was being controlled with difficulty, and a
deep, corroding despair and concern that might or might not be personal, and
pain. The pain was not the acute form characteristic of trauma, although there
as a little of that present, too. It seemed to be more emotional than physical,
and associated with a feeling of imminent loss. But within that dark fog there
was a pale glimmer of curiosity, and wonder, trying to shine through.
It was time Prilicla shone a little light of his own. Literally Describing aloud
what he was doing and thinking, he began switching on and off his helmet
spotlight, low enough to be barely perceptible by his own eyes at first, then
gradually increas-ing the intensity. He didn't want the alien survivor to
mistake the light for a weapon, but he also wanted to know if he was being seen
through the robot's eyes or if there were other visual sensors in operation.
When he began to detect feelings of physical discomfort that were characteristic
of sensory overload, presum-ably a reaction to a light that was now dazzling it,
he reduced the brightness until its feeling of discomfort went away. Next he
be-gan flashing his light in an attempt to transmit intelligence in a form that
he hoped the other should understand—simple arith-metic.
One flash of light followed two seconds later by another, then two flashes in
rapid succession. He repeated the process with three, four, and five flashes as
he tried to demonstrate simple addition as well as his own possession of
intelligence. A change in the other's emotional radiation, a sudden feeling of
interest, an understanding combining with the background curiosity, told him
that he had succeeded.
It was an immediate and present response to his first at-tempt at communication,
but now he needed to know if he could continue the process at long range.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, "you've seen and know what I've been doing. I'm
going to stop using my helmet light. Instead I want you to duplicate the
sequence and timing, but using your ship's external hull lighting. I won't be
able to see Rhabwar from here, so please tell me as soon as you begin."
"Right, Doctor," said the captain. "I'll need a moment to ... You've got it."
He didn't need the other's words because the survivor was reacting exactly as it
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had done to his helmet light, although the curiosity it was radiating was
becoming tinged with impatience.
Plainly it was wondering what he was going to do next. That made two of them.
"Thank you, friend Fletcher," he said. "You can stop sig-naling now."
He had expected but was still relieved at the confirmation that the visual
communication could be continued from the am-bulance ship, either by himself
or—if he was undergoing one of his frequent periods of regenerative
unconsciousness—by one of the others. But abruptly his relief was obliterated by
a sudden explosion of fear from the survivor. Even the movements of its robot
had become agitated.
"I'm not doing anything," he said sharply into his com-municator. "What's
happening out there?"
"Nothing much," the captain replied promptly. "In order to save time loading and
off-loading it from the pinnace, Dodds is using his suit thrusters to bring the
holo projector to you. It's an awkward piece of equipment but he can manage; in
fact he's about to land on the hull as we speak. ..."
"Dodds," said Prilicla urgently, "don't move! The alien sur-vivor is terrified.
Turn back until I can find out why."
But he already knew why. The holo projector was a large, intricate, and
completely harmless piece of equipment, but the survivor didn't know that. While
its attention was being directed at Rhabwar's lights, it had seen Dodds, one of
the DBDG lifeforrns which for some reason frightened it, about to land on its
•nip with what it must have thought was a weapon. Except in the areas where the
hull was damaged the ship had external defenses. Terragar had learned that, to
its cost. But now it seemed there were no comparable internal defenses.
A porcupine didn't need spines on the inside.
As well as being sensitive to others' emotions, Prilicla knew
* he was a good projective empath. But he also knew that there
was no way to make a being who was in the grip of intense fear feel good, or at
least a little better, without first removing the
source. That was why he concentrated all of his considerable empathic ability
into the projection of reassurance, sympathy and trust at a level of intensity
that he could not maintain for more than a few minutes. He also gesticulated on
the off-chance that the survivor could understand the gestures he was making
while he spoke into his communicator.
"I'm pointing back the way I came," he said, "then making
pushing motions with my hands to give the impression that I'm barring entry to
anyone else. By now the survivor should have seen friend Dodds turning back. I
think it's working. The fear is diminishing...."
Prilicla continued to emote feelings of reassurance and sym-pathy until he was
forced to stop and rest his brain for a moment, but by then the survivor's
feelings had returned to normal, or at least to the level they had been before
the approach of Dodds. But there was still concern in the other's mind which was
not for itself.
The robot followed close behind him as he turned and moved out of the
passageway, past the T-junction to the door opposite. It made no attempt to
interfere when he pressed the actuator buttons on the opposite door. As well as
being its sole protector, he was beginning to think that it was the only source
of vision that the first survivor had.
The door opened into another passageway that was identical in size and layout to
the one he had just left, but there the re-semblance ended. Only two of the
lighting units came on as the door opened so that he had to use his helmet light
to see through the transparent access hatches.
"Are you seeing this?" he said again, unnecessarily. "The plumbing and circuitry
in this area has sustained damage."
"We see it, Doctor," replied the captain, who must have joined Haslam in
control. "And there are^signs that someone has been trying to effect repairs."
Two of the pipe junctions had been wrapped in some form of metalized, adhesive
tape, but not tightly enough to prevent a rush of air or vaporized fluid from
fogging the joints. Behind the hatches he could see that many of the visible
cable looms showing patches of heat discoloration, and several had been
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ruptured. One group, which bore the color-coding indicating that it led from
the hull sensors, had been pulled apart, opened and the fine, hair-thin
individual strands of wiring fanned outwards in preparation for splicing.
The repair work was nowhere near completion. Prilicla indicated the areas of
damage in turn, pointing at the robot each time, then he pointed several times
towards the damage and to himself. He was trying to ask two questions— whether
the robot was responsible for the attempted repairs, and if Prilicla would be
allowed to help complete the work. If the robot or its director understood him,
there was no way as yet that they could answer. He moved to the inner door.
It was no surprise that the robot was there first, its body covering the
actuator buttons to bar his entrance. But for now he would be content to touch
the mind rather than the body on the other side of the door.
The general emotional texture was the same as he had de-tected from the other
survivor, but the content was shockingly different. This time there was physical
as well as emotional trauma. He couldn't even guess at what was causing the
physical discomfort, but there was a feeling of constriction, possibly of
suffocation, that was overlaid by fear, despair, and the dreadful, negative
emotion characteristic of utter isolation. He edged a little closer to the door
and, as he had done earlier, concentrated on rejecting reassurance, friendship,
and sympathy.
It took longer this time, possibly because he was tiring again, but finally
there was a reaction. Faintly, through the cloud of Nativity he detected
surprise, curiosity, and a feeling of hope. - began using his helmet light, but
there was no change in the other's emotional radiation. He asked the captain to
duplicate sequence with the ship's lighting. Still there was no response. Friend
Fletcher," he said, hiding his feelings with unemotional words, "I have detected
the presence of a second all survivor. Its emotional radiation suggests that
they are not i contact or presently aware of each other. The first one is
distressed but not seriously injured. The second one, whose sensory and
life-support systems are compromised as a result, I feel sure of it being closer
to the damaged side of their ship, is injured and short of food, air, and water.
It is also deaf, dumb, and blind.
"Full communications with and between the two aliens must be established as soon
as possible," he ended, "and both survivors must be extricated and treated
without delay."
"Doctor," said the captain, "just how will we manage that?" "Thankfully I am not
the specialist in other-species tech-nology, friend Fletcher," he replied. "I'm
returning to my quar-ters now to rest. Perhaps the solution will come to me in
my sleep.
CHAPTER 16
The Terragar casualties were progressing well enough to have their litters moved
outside for a few hours each day so that the psychological therapy of fresh air
and sunshine could rein-force the effects of her medication. The sun would warm
and relax and tan the pallor of long service in space from their bodies and,
because this world's ionization layer was intact, there would be no harmful
aftereffects. But she could not spend all of her free time in ministering-angel
mode and saying reassuring things to her patients even though, because of them
being officers and presumably gentlemen, they did not object to her company or
comment on her abbreviated dress. Now that their burns were healing to the point
where there was no longer the risk of her Earth-human pathogens getting to them,
she was not wearing her breathing mask and white coveralls.
Murchison's intention was to walk completely around the island over the firm
sand by the water's edge. From their first hilltop observations three days
earlier, she had estimated that the trip would take just under two hours and,
while nobody had ever accused her of being antisocial, she would have preferred
to walk alone and avoid having to tell therapeutic half-truths to a col-league.
The casualties had progressed to the stage where they were becoming restive and
worrying less about whether or not the would survive than how soon the transfer
to Sector General for their reconstructive surgery would take place. Danalta and
Nay drad were asking the same questions, which were valid and de-serving of
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straight answers, but she had no hard information to give them because she
hadn't been given any herself.
When asked, during her daily report to Rhabwar, the captain had stated that it
was a medical matter and referred her to her boss. Prilicla, in its gentle,
inoffensive, but totally immovable fashion, said that the timing was uncertain
because they were trying to communicate with and extricate two other-species
ca-sualties from the alien vessel, that there were complications and the answer
was "not soon."
She had passed this information on to Naydrad and Danalta but not to the
patients. They might be disturbed by the thought that very soon the two beings
who had been responsible for de-stroying their ship might be lying in the beds
beside theirs.
Obviously Danalta had grown tired of being a multicolored beach-ball shape and
had changed itself into a more challenging shape, that of a Drambon Roller.
Outwardly it was a perfect replica of the CLHG physiological classification
native to the planet Drambo, although she doubted that even Danalta could mimic
the complex movements of the original creature's internal organs which enabled
it to roll con-tinuously from the moment of partuition until the end of its
life.
Physically, a water-breathing Roller resembled an animated donut that rotated
vertically on its outer edge, with a fringe of short, manipulatory tentacles
sprouting from the inner circum-ference and curving outwards on both sides to
give balance at slow speeds. Between the roots of the tentacles she could see
that the shape-changer had perfectly reproduced the series of gills as well as
the visual equipment which operated coeleostat fashion to compensate for its
constantly rotating field of vision. The orig-inal life-form had used a gravity
feed system for circulation rather than a muscular pump, which was why they died
quickly when
weakness, accident, or an attacking predator caused them to fall on their sides
and stop rotating. Her first experience of giving CPR. to a stopped Drambon had
been like rolling a floppy, half-inflated ground car's inner tube around
underwater. She laughed suddenly.
"That's very good, Doctor," she said. "If there were another Drambon on the
island, it would find you irresistible."
Ahead of her, the donut shape made a right-angle turn, stopped, and bent almost
double in a bow of appreciation at the compliment. Then it melted and slumped
into a shapeless mound of green jelly which sprouted vertically into a tall,
erect, yellowish-pink shape which oozed and melted into a near-perfect,
two-thirds-scale replica of Murchison herself.
It was smaller than she was because Danalta was constrained by the limits of its
own body mass and, although the detail in the eyes, ears, and fingernails was
very good, the edges of her white swimsuit, hair, and eyebrows merged into the
adjacent skin coloration like the uniform and features painted on a toy soldier.
She gave an involuntary shudder.
Murchison had seen Danalta take some weird and often repulsive shapes with a
minimum of inner distress, but for some reason this one was making her feel
really uncomfortable.
Why don't you go for a walk up to the hill?" Murchison said, more sharply that
she had intended. "I'm safe enough here on the beach. No insects, no crabs, no
fish or amphibians in the water to crawl out and attack me. You might find
something more interesting to mimic inland."
No danger large enough to see," said the smaller Murchi-son, "but we're on an
alien planet, remember?"
Being reminded of the obvious had always irritated her, especially-y when, as
now, she needed the reminder. Even so, it was very difficult to believe that
this wonderful place was not on Earth ; She didn't reply
"So far we've seen only one species of animal," said Danalta, unless the others
are hiding from us, and that one is boring to
mimic. But I sense your annoyance. I'm sorry. Pathologist, is this body
configuration not to your liking?"
The half-sized Murchison, with the exception of its
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communications-and-translator pack, began to subside like melt ing wax into a
pink, sluglike shape with a tiny mouth and a large single eye. The real
Murchison concentrated on looking out to sea.
Apologetically, it went on. "If you would rather walk alone without
distractions, I can take on an aquatic form and keep pace with you without
holding conversation. Or if you would like to immerse yourself for a while, I
can serve as a protective escort, should one be necessary, although there is no
evidence of any threat here, from the land, sea, or air."
"Thank you," she said.
That was what she had most wanted to do since the begin-ning of today's walk,
although, perversely, she didn't want to appear too eager. As she continued
walking, her peripheral vision showed her Danalta entering the water and
spreading out into a fiat, carpet shape resembling an Earthly stingray with the
addition of a high, dorsal fin which had an eye at its tip to give both lateral
stability and all-around visibility.
She laughed suddenly and thought, The people I have to work with!
Gradually her path curved until the waves were breaking over and cooling her
feet, then her calves and around her knees. Her back was to the beach as she
suddenly broke into a long, high-stepping, splashing run, dived in, and began to
swim.
The water was cold, pleasantly so, and so clear that if there had been anything
on the sandy bottom larger than her thumb-nail she would have seen it. After a
few minutes of fast swimming, most of it underwater, she rolled onto her back
and floated with only her face above the surface, comfortable in the embrace of
an alien ocean which, on this world as well as on Earth, had been the mother of
all life. She was looking up at the deep-blue sky and thinking that the
casualties were well enough to profit from therapeutic, closely supervised
immersion, when she saw the
There were two of them, not quite overhead and circling, dipping and banking
slowly to take advantage of rising air currents They were so high, a few
thousand feet at least, that they almost hidden by the glare from the sun, and
at that altitude they could scarcely be considered a threat. Nevertheless,
feeling guilty rather than anxious over the way she had been enjoying herself,
Murchison raised an arm to wave at Danalta, pointed up at them and then towards
the beach.
It was time they returned to their patients
And even higher above the birds, in the orbiting Rhabwar, a similar thought was
going through the mind of Prilicla regarding a different set of patients. There
was very little that he could do for them until they had learned to trust not
just their physician, himself, but the DBDGs and their portable equipment of
which, for some reason, they were so afraid, because the specialized knowledge
and experience of the Earth-humans were vital if the treatment that one of them
so urgently needed was to have any hope of success.
"In my cubicle I've been thinking as well as sleeping, friend Fletcher," he
said. "Our first problem here is one of communi-cation and, more importantly, of
reeducation, but without the use of the portable audio-visual devices that are
usual in first-contact situations. Any such equipment—especially, it seems, when
it is carried by Earth-human DBDGs—is considered a ^eat. It also appears that
suit ancillary equipment such as hel-met lights, thrusters, and even our vision
pickups which they may consider too low-powered to be dangerous, is allowable.
That is why I want you to—"
"We are agreed," the captain broke in, "that they feel com-ortable with you and
are afraid of us. It must be that physically our smaller size, physical
weakness, and obvious lack of natural make you much less of a threat to them.
Doctor, against
my advice you insist on going back alone into that ship. not take the
first-contact equipment with you?"
"Because," said Prilicla gently, "I'm not sure whether it iss certain types of
equipment, you DBDGs, or both that they are afraid of. So far, my close presence
has been acceptable to them. Carrying the equipment with me might not be
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acceptable and I might destroy their feeling of trust in me. I don't want to
risk losing that."
The captain nodded. "We know you can detect their emo-tional radiation and to a
lesser extent project your own feelings of friendship towards them. That is
communication of a sort, but it isn't the same as exchanging the words and
concepts necessary for them to trust the rest of us as well. You have a problem,
Doctor. Do you also have a solution?"
"I may have," said Prilicla. "We already know from our simple light signals that
they have visual sensors on the unda-maged area of their hull. The solution will
involve my presence inside the control section, where I will be able to monitor
their emotional responses, while you execute the first-contact visuals, highly
magnified and edited to fit our situation, outside the ship. Is this technically
feasible?"
The captain was silent for a moment, radiating concern for his safety as well as
the anticipation of overcoming a technical challenge; then it said, "So you want
me to project tri-di images into the space between our ships. How big do they
have to be?
"At least twice as large as the other ship, friend Fletcher, he replied. "As yet
we don't know the degrees of resolution of their external visual equipment, so I
want every detail of your display to be clearly visible to all the sensors on
that side of their ship. Can do?"
The captain nodded again and said, "Modifying the portable equipment to project
externally will take time, Doctor. More than enough time for you to sleep and
think again on the problem, and maybe find a solution that involves a lesser
element of personal risk for yourself."
"Thank you, friend Fletcher"—ignoring the implied criti-"I enjoy resting, even,
and especially, when it isn't strictly necessary and other people are doing the
real work. But first I must discuss with you the exact content and presentation
of the election we will use, and, second, I need to pick your brains." The
captain radiated a silent mixture of curiosity and cau-tion as if it were
expecting another surprise. It wasn't disap-pointed.
"In simple, non-technical terms," he went on, "I would like guidance on how and
what to do in the damaged control section, as if you yourself were doing it.
Naturally this will mean us study-ing the visual records together."
"It took many years of training in other-species technology to fill the brain
you wish to pick, Doctor," said the captain, sar-casm thick in its voice and its
emotional radiation. "Is that all?" "Not quite," said Prilicla. "I'll have to
remember to check on the condition of my less urgent, Earth-human patients. But
that will not involve extra work for you."
By the time the captain and himself had completed their discussion, to the
satisfaction of neither of them, Prilicla got very little additional rest.
Before releasing his consciousness for sleep he called Murchison. The
pathologist reported seeing two high-flying birds and, following its brief swim
with Danalta, that the sea was safe for short-term Earth-human occupancy. It
said that as Naydrad hated getting its fur wet and Danalta would be posted to
seaward as a probably unnecessary guard, it suggested that their patients,
although not yet ambulatory, would benefit both Physically and psychologically
from a brief daily immersion in the sea followed by a lengthier exposure to what
was for Earth-human DBDGs fresh air and sunshine. Understanding as he did from
long experience of working among them the emotional attraction that existed
between Earth-human males and females, he knew that the casualties would derive
much pleasure from being bathed by an entity of the opposite sex, and so would
his assistant. He acquiesced.
He was dreaming of sunshine and sand and the soft crashing of the high,
low-gravity waves of his native Cinruss when the idyllic scene was dissolved by
the insistent sound of his com communicator and the voice of the captain.
"Doctor Prilicla," said the captain. "Wake up, it's show time."
CHAPTER 17
This time Prilicla made the trip alone, with the pinnace being guided by Haslam
to the entry point on remote control. If the robot crew member or, through its
sensors, its superior no-ticed the miniature, eye-level repeater screen that had
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been added to the interior of Prilicla's helmet, it was not considered a threat
because nothing was done to impede his trip back to the control section. It
wasn't absolutely necessary that he have a picture of what would shortly be
going on outside since Fletcher could have told him about it via his
communicator, but words took time and good pictures were always faster, clearer,
and less susceptible to misinterpretation.
When he was deep inside the control section he drifted as close as possible to
the inner door that would give access to the least injured of the ship's two
organic survivors, a position where he could monitor the other's emotional
responses with optimum accuracy. The robot drifted passively less than a meter
away. He knew that the tiny metal digits encircling its body were capable of
ripping open his spacesuit in a matter of seconds, but he also knew or rather
he felt fairly sure—that it would remain passive unless he tried to open the
inner door. "Ready when you are, friend Fletcher," he said.
A few seconds later an immediate change in the alien's emotional radiation as
well as the image on his helmet screen told him that, in the space between
Rhabwar and the distressed alien ship, the show had begun.
"It sees the external image," Prilicla reported excitedly "There are feelings of
awareness, curiosity, and puzzlement."
The captain didn't reply but one of the other officers laughed softly and said
in a voice not meant to be overheard, "I would feel puzzled, too, if somebody
projected the image of a star field onto another star field."
The projected star field remained unaltered for a few sec-onds, then slowly it
began to shrink and condense so that more and more stars moved in from the edges
of the three-dimensional projection until it took on the glittering,
unmistakable, spiral shape of the Galaxy itself.
The survivor's concentration was now total.
Gradually the fine detail of the image coarsened, the wisps and streamers of
interstellar gas were erased, and the number of stars was reduced to a few
hundred which became large enough to have been counted individually. One of them
was highlighted inside a circle of bright green and the circle increased rapidly
in size until a stylized representation of the star and its system of planets
filled the projection volume for a few seconds before the image changed again.
The viewpoint zoomed in on that solar system's inhabited planet, showing the
swirling, tattered cloud formations that could not quite hide the continental
outlines. As it swooped closer and lower it slowed until the viewpoint was
giving panoramic views of the planetary surface, seascapes, ice fields,
mountains, trop-ical greenery, and great, sprawling cities with their
interconnecting road systems. Then the image was reduced suddenly in size and
moved to one side so that it filled only half of the projection.
The other half displayed an equally detailed representation of the world's
dominant intelligent life-form.
It was the picture of an enormous, incredibly fragile flying insect with a
tubular, exoskeletal body that supported six sucker tipped pencil-thin legs,
four even more delicately fashioned and precise manipulators, and two sets of
wide, iridescent, and almost transparent wings. The head was a convoluted
eggshell so finely structured that the sensory organs, particularly the two
large, lowing eyes projecting from it, seemed ready to fall off at the first
sudden movement. The head, manipulators—some of them holding tools—and legs were
bent or rotated to demonstrate their limits of movement while the wings wafted
slowly up and down as they broke up and reflected iridescent highlights like
mobile rainbows. It was the picture of a Cinrusskin, one of the race generally
held to be the most beautiful and delicate life-forms known to the explored
reaches of the galaxy.
Then the limb motions ceased, the wings folded away, and the body was suddenly
encased in a spacesuit identical to the one Prilicla wore.
"As well as the background discomfort, I detect feelings of surprise and growing
curiosity," Prilicla reported. "Go to the next stage."
They had shown a picture of Prilicla's race first because he had already been
seen by the alien casualty and seemed to be trusted by it. But now its education
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and, hopefully, its ability to trust had to be widened.
Next was shown the solar system, planet, meteorology, rural and city
environments of Kelgia, accompanied by a picture of a single member of its
dominant species. The undulating, multi-Pedal, caterpillar-like body with its
silver, continually mobile fur, the narrow cone of a head, and the tiny forward
manipulators, •roused no feelings of antipathy in the casualty, nor did the
similar Material on the crablike Melfan or the six-legged, elephantine Tralthan
life-forms that followed it. But when the Hudlar planet species were shown,
there was a subtle change. Hudla was a heavy-gravity world pulling four Earth Gs
whose nearly opaque atmosphere resembled a thick, dense soup, it was rich in the
suspended animal and vegetable nutrients on which the Hudlars lived. It was a
world of constant storms that had forced its natives to build underground. Only
a Hudlar could love it, Prilicla thought, and then, not very much.
He said, "Now there are feelings suggestive of fear and fa-miliarity. It is as
if the casualty is recognizing a habitual enemy To most people, Melfans and
Tralthans are visually more hor-rendous than the smooth-bodied Hudlars, so it
may well be that it is the planet Hudla itself rather that its native life-forms
that is causing this reaction."
"Is this a guess, Doctor," said the captain, "or one of your feelings?"
"A strong feeling," he replied.
"I see," said the other. It cleared its throat and added, "If your casualty
considers Hudla as something like home, I can feel a certain sympathy for it in
spite of what it did to Terragar. Shall I proceed?"
"Please," said Prilicla, and the lesson continued.
Showing the planets and living environments of the sixty-seven intelligent
species that comprised the Galactic Federation had never been their intention
because the process would have been unnecessarily long and this was, after all,
a primary lesson. The widely different types like the storklike, tripedal
Nallajims, the multicolored, animated Gogleskan haystacks, the slimy,
chlorine-breathing Illensans, and the radiation-eating Telfi, among others, were
included, but so also were the DBDG clas-sifications from Earth, Nidia, and
Orligia. Those three were there deliberately because the prime purpose of the
lesson was to instill in the alien casualties a feeling of trust for their
Earth-human rescuers.
"It isn't working," said Prilicla, disappointed. "Every time you showed a DBDG,
regardless of its size or whether it was a large, hairy Orligian, an
Earth-human, or a half-sized, red-furred Nidian, the reaction was the same—one
of intense fear and hatred. It will be extremely difficult to make these people
trust you.
"What on Earth," said the captain, "could we ever have done to make them feel
that way?"
"It was not done on Earth, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "Rut the show isn't
over yet. Please continue."
The format changed again. Instead of showing individual planets and subjects,
two- and three-member groups comprising different species were shown meeting and
talking, sometimes with their children present, or working together on various
tech-nical projects. In some of them they were encased in spacesuits while they
rescued other-species casualties from damaged ships. The pictures' application
to the present situation, he hoped, was plain. Then the scene changed again to
show all of the subjects, forming the rim of wheel and shown in scale, from the
dimin-utive Nallajims and Cinrusskins, up to the massive Tralthans and Hudlars
of more than ten times that body-weight. At the hub of the circle was shown a
tiny, glittering representation of the galaxy, from which radiated misty spokes
joining it to the individual species on the rim. Then the individual species
were pictured again, this time with all of them displayed as being the same
size, in order, it was again hoped, to illustrate equality of importance.
Several seconds passed. At this extreme range Prilicla could not feel, but he
could imagine the captain's anxiety as it spoke. "Well, Doctor," it said
urgently, "was there a response?" "There was, friend Fletcher," he replied, "but
I'm still trying for an exact analysis of the emotional radiation. In
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conjunction with the background feelings of anxiety, which may be caused by
worry over its companion who it can no longer contact, there -re strong feelings
of excitement, wonder, and, I feel sure, com-prehension. I'd say that it
understood our lesson."
When he didn't go on, the captain broke the silence. It said, "I've the feeling
that you're going to say 'but.' "
But," Prilicla went on obligingly, "every time you showed DBDG, the casualty
also radiated deep suspicion and distrust.These feelings are better than the
earlier ones of intense fear and
blind hatred, but only fractionally. I feel certain that the casualty still
doesn't want you DBDGs anywhere near it."
For the first time in Prilicla's long experience on ambulanceship operations,
the captain used words that his translator had not been programmed to accept,
and went on. "Then what the hell am I expected to do to change that?"
Before replying, Prilicla looked slowly around the compart ment, pointed at one
of the transparent inspection covers, then moved close and began opening it. The
robot drifted nearby but made no attempt to interfere, even when he reached
inside and after hesitating and looking back as if to ask permission for what he
was about to do, he gently touched one of the cable looms. When he replied, he
knew that his vision pickup was showing the captain everything he had been
doing.
"In very simple pictorial terms, we've been talking big," he said, "by telling
it about a few of the Federation's species and the cooperation that exists
between their worlds and in space, like assisting distressed ships and—"
"If you remember my advice," the other broke in, stressing the last word, "it
was to follow through on the ship-rescue se-quence and show the casualties
receiving medical treatment. That, Doctor, would have clearly demonstrated our
good inten-tions."
"And I did not take your advice," Prilicla replied gently, "because of the
possibility of a misunderstanding. In the present climate of fear and distrust,
the emotional reaction of an alien— who would have been witnessing a
multispecies medical team, which would certainly have included at least one
DBDG, carrying out a surgical procedure on a casually—could not have been taken
for granted. We know nothing about the alien's physiology, environment, or
medical practices, if it has any. It may have decided that we were simply
torturing captured casualties.
"You, friend Fletcher," he said, when the other remained silent, "can do nothing
right now, apart from furnishing me with technical advice when needed. I've
already mentioned this idea to you, and your lack of enthusiasm for it was
understandable-But the time for showing pictures is over. As my Earth-human
gambling friends keep telling me, I must put my money where my mouth is.
"So now," he ended, "we — or rather, I — must try to reinforce those pictorial
lessons with deeds."
He withdrew his hand slowly, closed the transparent cover and pointed along the
linking passageway in the direction of the identical compartment on the damaged
side of the ship. Had the robot crew member been an organic life-form, he
thought, it would have been breathing down his neck. But it made no move to
hinder him.
In the darkened compartment he used his helmet light to open inspection panels
and look and, if it didn't look dangerous, to touch the scorched or ruptured
cable looms and plumbing inside all of them in turn. Still there was no
interference from the robot. He was beginning to feel less sure of himself and
his ability to do this job when the captain, demonstrating the strange mixture
of empathy and understanding possessed by Earth-humans, answered his question
before it could be asked.
"You should start with an easy one," said the captain. "High on the upper side
of the first inspection compartment you opened there are two fairly thick wires
— one has what seems to be pale blue insulation, and the other red. If you look
carefully you can see where they make a right-angle turn and disappear through a
grommet into what is presumably the ceiling of your corridor. The force of the
explosion caused a wiring break in one If them at the angle bend. Do you see the
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ends of the bare wire Projecting from the torn insulation? Try to splice it, but
be careful :it to touch any metal in the area while you're working. Your
gauntlets are thin and we don't know how much current that °re will be carrying.
You'll need insulating tape to hold the splice together."
"My med satchel has surgical tape," said Prilicla. "Will that do?â€
"Yes, Doctor, but be careful."
A few minutes later the splicing operation was complete, the join was insulated,
and all the lighting fixtures in the corridor were on. The robot crew member was
moving from one to the other and, Prilicla hoped, reporting on the completion of
one small repair to the conscious survivor who was its chief. It wasn't much,
but he had done something.
"What next?" said Prilicla.
"Now comes the difficult part," said the captain, "so don't get cocky. The other
wiring affected is finer and with more subtle color-codings. Some of the
ruptured strands show heat discol-oration, and you must trace these back to an
unaffected area so as to positively identify each end before joining them. The
com-plexity of the wiring makes me pretty sure that most of these breaks are in
the hull-sensor and internal-communications net-works, and if a join were to be
mismatched, we could cause all kinds of trouble. It would be like
short-circuiting your hearing sensors to your eyes. We're in the strange
position of making repairs to systems whose purposes are totally unknown to us.
I wish I was there with the proper equipment to help you. This is going to be
delicate, precise, painstaking, and exhausting work. Are you up to it, Doctor?"
Don't worry," said Prilicla, "it's a little like brain surgery."
CHAPTER 18
Even though the captain was giving him the benefit of its wide-ranging technical
expertise and guiding his hands at every stage, the work went very slowly. An
early splicing problem was that some of the damaged fine-gauge wiring had burned
away along several inches of its length and the missing pieces had to be
replaced. There was suitable replacement material on Rhab-war and the captain
offered to bring it himself, in the hope that he would be allowed to assist
Prilicla directly and so speed up the process.
"Bring some food as well, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. I ve decided that it
will also save time if I don't have to return to the ship for meals. Or sleep."
Prilicla waited politely until the expected objections were becoming
repetitious, then said, "There are risks, of course, but I’m being neither
foolish nor foolhardy. My spacesuit makes provision for the short-term
elimination of body wastes, it has a small airlock attachment for the
introduction of food, and in the weightless condition, padded rest furnishings
are unnecessary for comfort. My thinking is that if we want the survivor to
trust us,we must show that we trust it."
I agree, reluctantly," the other replied after a long pause.
"But if I can make it plain that I'm helping you help it, maybe it will begin to
trust me, too."
"That is the general idea, friend Fletcher," he replied. "But at this delicate
stage in the contact procedure we shouldn't rush things."
"Right," said the captain. "I'll bring the food, replacement wiring, and some
simple, non-powered tools that I think will help in your work. They will be
inside a transparent container so that the survivor and/or its robot will be
able to see exactly what it is getting. I'm coming now."
But when it was approaching the alien ship, the emotional radiation of the
survivor became apprehensive and its robot left the compartment quickly on what
was obviously an interception course. Prilicla followed it and, when it was
plain that the captain was not to be allowed to enter the ship, he relieved the
other of its package.
"Sorry, friend Fletcher," he said as he did so, "I'm afraid that you're still
unwelcome here. But I've been thinking about a possible explanation for that,
and for the high sensitivity these people have towards external physical
contact, allied to the strange fact that, in both the ship and its crew robots,
their de-fenses are ultra-short range. Surely that is a strange type of weapon
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to use in space."
"The weapon used against them was not short-range," said the captain. "It blew a
large hole in their hull and, to a lesser degree, in the defunct crew robot we
examined. But go on."
"During your show," Prilicla resumed, "I received the feel-ing that the survivor
was being given information for the first time. There was excitement, wonder,
but a strangely reduced level of surprise. It was almost as if the survivor was
expecting, or maybe just hoping, to meet other life-forms in space. If I'm
right, that would mean that interstellar travel was new to it, or that this was
its first time out and it was exploring, perhaps even searching for the planet
it has found. But when you showed the Hudla sequence, there I detected subtle
changes in its emotions. There was an odd combination of fear, dread, hatred,
and, strangely, familiarity. Hudla is not a pleasant world to people who are not
Hudlars and, I would guess, neither is the survivor's. I realize this is
speculation but I have the feeling that it went out looking for another and
better world. The presence of its ship in close orbit could mean that it found
it."
The other made a gesture of impatience. "An interesting theory, but it doesn't
take into account the fact that an as-yet unknown agency used an offensive
weapon against it."
Prilicla hated telling the captain that he thought it was wrong, especially at
this short range because he would feel the other's annoyance at full intensity.
He said gently, "Are we quite sure about that? Consider the type of blast damage
to the ship and the robot taken aboard Terragar, and that this species may be
new to interstellar and hyperspatial flight and the distress bea-cons associated
with it. Let's suppose that they found an unin-habited planet, green and
pleasant and without the violent meteorology of home and that they signaled its
position by det-onating—not a distress beacon because if they were new to space
they would not expect rescue—but a similar device that would give an accurate
position fix. The signaling device was untried and it blew up in their faces.
That's the one we suspected might be a weapons discharge. Terragar responded
before we could and needed to detonate its own distress beacon. But the point
I'm making is that the damage to the alien ship might have been accidental and
self-inflicted."
"I think you're wishing rather than theorizing, Doctor," said the captain; then,
after a moment's thought, "But it's a nice the-ory. However, it doesn't explain
why their robots as well as their ship have such prickly hides. Plainly they
were expecting some-one or something to attack them. And if you still think I'm
wrong, don't waste time being polite about it."
"Their defenses may be automatic," said Prilicla. The captain did not reply. It
was beginning to have doubts which meant that the reflected annoyance caused by
Prilicla':
words would be reduced. He went on. "Consider the surface design of the ship's
outer hull as well as that of the robot's skin. Those surfaces can be touched
without harm by organic digits or simple, unsophisticated, non-powered tools. If
we postulate a dense or highly disturbed atmosphere on their home world, a
thick, protective, and streamlined covering would be necessary for survival, as
it is on the Hudlars' planet. But suppose they have an implacable natural enemy,
perhaps an intelligent and tech-nically advanced one, and the ship's defensive
weapons are needed only on their environmentally-hostile home planet dur-ing the
periods of construction, takeoff, and landing.
"And if their implacable enemy bears a physical resemblance to you DBDGs," he
ended, "that would explain much."
The captain made an untranslatable sound. "I suppose we're lucky that they don't
have a phobia about outsized crabs or cat-erpillars, or six-legged elephants or
even large flying insects," it said, then went on briskly. "About this repair
job, Doctor. There will be considerable physical and mental stress involved. The
quality of any work suffers with the onset of fatigue, whatever the profession.
While your mind is clear, can you estimate how long you will be able to function
effectively before I should re-mind you to stop for rest?"
Prilicla gave an estimate that was on the generous side, knowing that the other
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would be sure to reduce it. Nothing more was said until he had returned to the
alien's control center, after which the captain rarely stopped talking, but the
words and tone were continually reassuring.
"... Before its insulated cover was pulled apart by the ac-cident," Fletcher was
saying, "the cable loom you are working on enclosed ten individual lines. The
magnifier here tells me that they are too fine to carry a dangerous level of
current. But their color-coding is the same as the heavier cables that run to
and spread across the outer hull, so we may assume that they perform a similar
communications and/or sensory function.... Dammit,
I wish I could get in there with the proper tools. Don't take that as a
criticism, Doctor, you're doing fine."
Prilicla remained silent because the other had repeated its non-criticism and
apology several times in the last hour, and he was feeling excited and hopeful
rather than irritated. An internal, light-duty sensor and communications circuit
was what he had been looking for because it might mean that he had found the
broken connection between the comparatively uninjured and strongly emoting crew
member and its partner. Putting them in touch with each other again should go a
long way to proving their rescuers' good intentions. Carefully and with the
delicacy of touch possible only to one of his fragile race, he separated,
stripped, and began to splice the severed ends of a wire that was almost
hair-thin.
Suddenly he jerked his hands away as a burst of emotion exploded from the crew
member at the other side of the control center. In spite of the distance it was
strong, sharp, intensely uncomfortable, but brief. It faded within a few seconds
and so, thankfully, did the accompanying feelings of anger.
"What happened?" said Fletcher sharply. "You jerked your hands away. Are you
hurt?"
"No," Prilicla replied; then after a moment's thought he went on, "I must have
joined two of the wrong wires. It made the survivor, maybe both of them, very
uncomfortable for an instant. The emotional radiation was characteristic of a
sharp, unpleasant sensation, as if someone was to cross our optic nerve with our
aural input then make a loud noise. Sorry, I'll have to be more careful."
The captain exhaled loudly and said, "Yes. But it was a natural mistake because
all the wiring in that loom has the same color-coding with subtle variations in
shade. The magnifier's enhanced imaging barely picks them up but your unassisted
vi-sion can't, good as it is. Next time hold the wire ends to be joined where I
can see them clearly for my okay, then, if it doesn't cause
an adverse reaction, shield the other wires from it while you spray on the
insulation. That way you won't risk a bared, spliced length making contact or
short-circuiting against an adjoining bare wire. Tell me if you've any doubts or
problems about anything you intend doing, Doctor, otherwise carry on. I think
you're get-ting there."
Prilicla carried on while the captain furnished technical and moral assistance.
There were no more accidents, but there was an increasing level of emotional
radiation emanating from the survivor on the undamaged section of the control
center. It was not the sharp reaction characteristic of sudden discomfort, but a
mixture of fear and hope so intense that his empathic faculty received it almost
as a physical pain. Then suddenly there was a double explosion of feeling that
made him pull back because his whole body, as well as his hands were trembling.
Slowly he moved to the the inner door that he had not been allowed to enter and
placed his stethoscope against the bare metal.
"Doctor, you've got the shakes," said the captain urgently. "Is there anything
wrong with you? What's happening?"
"Nothing is wrong with me," said Prilicla unsteadily as he sought for his
customary clinical calm. "To the contrary, friend Fletcher. The two survivors
are now communicating with each other, presumably via the repaired circuitry.
I'm trying to pick up their language sounds, with a view to programming it into
our translation computer, but I can't hear anything. Possibly there is not
enough air to conduct sound or their speaking and hearing organs are enclosed in
some kind of helmet."
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"Almost certainly that is due to their control sections losing internal
pressure," the other said excitedly. "How are they feeling now?"
"At present their emotional radiation is complex and con-fused although it is
beginning to clear," Prilicla replied as he tried to describe feelings that
could not be adequately conveyed in mere words. "There is a combination of
relief, excitement, and concern that is due, I feel sure, to the reestablishment
of inter-personal communication and the up-to-the-minute exchange of
information. That information would include the first survivor's reaction to the
things we have been doing for it as well as a description of the physical
condition of the second survivor which, my empathy tells me, is not good.
Something will have to be done for the second one as a matter of clinical
urgency. Underlying the emotional radiation from both sources, but still strong
enough to be unmistakable, there are feelings of grati-tude."
"Good!" said the captain. "If they're feeling grateful then they must know that
you're trying to help them. But do you think they're ready to to trust us, all
of us, after your good deed?"
Prilicla was silent for a moment as he concentrated on the two sources of
emotional radiation, one of them attenuated with distance and the closer one
faint because of physical weakness and distress, then he said, "There is still a
persistent background fear in both entities that is due, I feel sure, to the
fact that both of them are now aware of the presence of their feared and hated
DBDG bogeyman. I may be wrong because I'm am empath, rather than a telepath, but
I feel that they aren't yet ready to make friends with their worst nightmare.
Something more must be done to help gain their trust, and my good deed has yet
to be completed."
The captain did not ask the obvious question because it knew that the answer was
forthcoming. Prilicla went on. "My close-range analysis of the second survivor's
emotional radiation indicates that its body is so debilitated that it barely
retains the ability to think coherently. There is increasing physical
discom-fort, combined with a feeling of urgency and intense, personal fear that
is characteristic of a being who is close to terminal suf-focation, or
dehydration, or both. To complete our good deed more repairs are needed, to
restore their air and working fluid supply."
"So now you've delusions of being a plumber as well as a electrician," said the
captain, and laughed. "Right, Doctor, what exactly will you need?"
"As before, friend Fletcher, I need directions," Prilicla re-plied, "because I
have no idea how to proceed. But first I want to show the robot, who is the eyes
for at least one of the survivors the sections of damaged piping that I'll be
trying to repair or replace. While I'm doing that, you can assess the situation
and tell me what needs to be done and how to go about doing it using replacement
material and basic, non-powered tools from Rhabwar.
"Also," he went on, "I've noticed traces of vapor around some of the fractured
piping in here, indicating the escape of residual atmosphere or moisture
although it could, I suppose, be the remains of a toxic fluid used in a
hydraulic actuator. While you're assessing the repair requirements with me, I'll
bag samples and use my medical analyzer on it. If it is air or water rather than
something toxic, please reproduce it in bulk and send it over in transparent
containers. If the containers are marked with the same color-codings as that of
the supply pipes we're going to replace, that might further reassure the
survivors. Leave every-thing loosely tethered to the hull where I came on board
for me to pick up.
"We've fixed it so that they can talk to each other," he ended, "but the
conversation will be short if one of them stops breathing."
The next two hours he passed surveying the repair job, iden-tifying the
color-codings, and isolating the fractured piping to be joined. He knew that the
work would be less delicate than splicing the damaged wiring, but the captain
had grave doubts about his ability to perform it.
"This isn't anything like brain surgery, Doctor," it said. "What you'll need is
brute force rather than delicacy of touch. Your digits were never made to handle
manually-operated metal-cutters, the only kind these people will allow near
them, and heavy spanners. And your body is far too fragile to exert the leverage
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that may be required. A pair of Earth-human hands with muscular backup are
needed for this job. I should be in there helping you."
Prilicla did not reply, and the captain went on quickly, "I'll run another
external visual for them, the one showing ship re-pairs being carried out
simultaneously by several different species including Earth-humans. After what
you've already done for them, they might be more inclined to forget their DBDG
phobia enough to trust me a little. I'll wear a lightweight suit, with no
powered instruments other than the radio and a small cutting torch, and carry
the piping and tools in transparent containers as you suggested. Working
together the repairs will take a fraction of the time you'd need otherwise, and
if one of them is running out of air ..."
"I'm sorry, that will not be possible right now . .." he began.
"At least let me try, Doctor," the other broke in. "I can be over there with all
we'll need in less than an hour."
"... Because, friend Fletcher," he ended, "in less than ten minutes' time, as
soon as I finish analyzing these air and fluid samples, I’ll be asleep."
CHAPTER 19
As Prilicla had expected, the robot crew member's actions showed great agitation
on the part of its organic controller when the captain met him outside the hull
and tried to enter the ship. He had to point several times at the lengths of
piping the other was carrying and demonstrate, both by slicing one of the
lengths of piping into pieces with the tiny flame of the cutter and then by
turning on the cylinder taps briefly and releasing a small quantity of their
contents into space to show that they contained only gas, before the captain was
allowed to come on board. By the time they were in the damaged control section
it was clear from the emotional radiation of both survivors that the DBDG was
feared as much as it was trusted, and that the emo-tional balance could swing
either way.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, "do not make any sudden move-ments that might be
mistaken for a threat. In fact, until they become accustomed to your presence it
would be better if you did nothing except pass tools and parts to me, and
generally give the impression that I am your superior until I indicate—"
"As you are fond of reminding me, Doctor," it said dryly, "on the disaster site
you have the rank."
The words were sarcastic but the emotional radiation that accompanied them was
free of rancor. Prilicla went on. "... until
I indicate to the survivors by acting out the requirement several times that I
need your physical assistance. We're lucky that their emotional radiation will
tell me whether or not they understand what I'm trying to do."
It wasn't very long before he ran into trouble. One of the piping conduits had
been twisted out of true so that the joints and lock-nuts were jammed. They were
too tight, or at least too tight for Prilicla to move.
Several times he went through the motions of trying to loosen it, then he
pointed at the captain's larger and stronger hands, withdrew, and indicated that
the other should take over. The robot edged closer, its damaged metal surfaces
somehow reflecting the fear and concern that its masters were feeling.
"You take over, friend Fletcher," he said. "But move slowly, they're still
terrified of you."
The captain had to move slowly because it required several minutes of maximum
effort, and the cooling element in its suit was just barely keeping the
perspiration from fogging its visor, before the sticking lock-nut was loosened,
removed, and fitted with a joint that would take the replacement piping. It
chose a length that was already fitted with a T-junction and valve, and it took
much less time for it to cut the pipe to size and make the join. Prilicla passed
in the length of hose from the two air tanks, which was attached to the
junction. Several times the captain indicated the color-coding on the old and
new piping and the tanks. The robot had moved into the inspection compartment
and was crowding the captain but not hampering its hands.
"I'm detecting great anxiety," said Prilicla; then, reassur-ingly, "but there is
also a feeling of comprehension. I think they understand what we're trying to do
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for them. I'm turning on the air now."
The earlier analyses had shown that the survivor's atmo-sphere was similar to
that used by the majority of the warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing species. No
attempt had been made to include the trace quantities of other gases so that the
mixture
going in was in the usual proportion of oxygen to nitrogen. For several minutes
there was no emotional reaction either from the distressed survivor or the other
who was in contact with it; then, suddenly, a slow trembling shook Prilicla's
whole body.
"What's wrong?" said the captain.
"Nothing," he replied. "The breathing distress of the second survivor is being
treated although it is still suffering, possibly from hunger, thirst, or
injuries, and both of them are now ra-diating intense, positive feelings of
relief and gratitude which are giving me emotional pleasure. They are still
afraid of you, but their hatred and distrust are diminishing. Well done, friend
Fletcher."
"Well done yourself," said the captain, radiating embar-rassment at the
compliment. "Now that we've helped it to breathe, let's see if we can give it
something to drink and eat as well. There is staining around the broken end of
one of these pipes that looks like it might be dried-out liquid food. If your
analyzer confirms that, we could—"
"No, friend Fletcher," he broke in, "there might not be time for that.
Psychologically the second survivor's condition has im-proved but I feel the
presence of increasingly severe debilitation associated with physical trauma.
From now on we have to know exactly what we're doing, or be told exactly what to
do, and do it fast. You brought spare air tanks, more than was needed for the
recent first-aid operation. If we empty them, would there be enough atmospheric
pressure to enable us to breathe and allow the transmission of sound?"
He felt the other's initial puzzlement dissolve into compre-hension as it said,
"So you're going to try talking to them and asking for directions. If we knew
anything about their commu-nications setup, especially how they convert radio
into audio fre-quency, we could simply talk on our own radios. As it is, we
aren't sure yet whether or not they have ears."
It shook its head and went on. "The answer to your question is, I don't know.
This section was close to the area of hull damage and might leak like a sieve.
We could try."
Prilicla said, "Yes, but not here. We'll move back to the undamaged section with
the first survivor. All of the access panels in that compartment are a tight
fit, probably an airtight fit, as is the entrance door and the one into the area
containing the sur-vivor. This is probably a crew safety measure and part of the
ship design philosophy. To increase the effect I'll spray on some of my plastic
sealant. It won't stop the doors from being opened later, but it will ensure
minimum leakage. While I'm doing that, you will want to make arrangements with
Rhabwar."
"That I will," said the captain. It withdrew from the tiny inspection chamber,
closed the access hatch tightly, and began talking rapidly into its suit radio
as it followed him to the other control section. By the time it had finished
talking, Prilicla had the compartment sealed and compressed air was hissing
visibly and then audibly from the fully opened tank valves.
"We don't seem to be losing any air," said the captain after a few minutes, "and
the pressure is high enough to carry sound, or even to open our helmets,
supposing we were mad enough to do that."
"I believe we are mad enough, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "Folding back our
helmets will be a further sign that we trust them and wish to be friends, as
well as removing the small ad-ditional voice distortion caused by our external
speakers. I hope our robot friend can hear and speak as well as see. Is Rhabwar
ready?"
"Projector and translation computer standing by," the cap-tain replied,
unsealing its helmet. "You speak first, Doctor. A privilege of rank."
With the words there was a complex, background feeling of excitement,
expectation, and minor relief characteristic of a per-sonally embarrassing
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situation to be avoided should the attempt fail. Prilicla's own feeling was that
it wouldn't.
He bent a forelimb almost double and pointed at himself. Slowly and distinctly
he said, "Prilicla, Prilicla, Prilicla. I am Pril-icla." Then he pointed behind
towards the inner door, and waited. When there was no response he indicated the
captain and nodded for it to try. The rapid, musical clicking of untranslated
Cinrusskin speech was difficult for other species to follow.
"Fletcher, Fletcher, Fletcher," said the captain, indicating itself before
pointing in the same direction as Prilicla.
The robot made a short, sharp sound like the squeaking of a rusty hinge.
"Was that a word, dammit," said the captain in an angry undertone, "or a
malfunctioning robot?"
"A word, maybe more than one," Prilicla replied. "It heard us, and I felt a
flash of understanding and urgency. Maybe its words are rapid, compressed, as in
Nallajim. Let's try again, and speak very slowly. Maybe it will do the same.
"Pril-ic-la," he said slowly three times, repeating the earlier motions. The
captain said and did the same.
"Keet," said the robot. A moment later it added, "Pil-ik-la, Flet-cha."
Prilicla gestured towards the sealed door in front of them and said, "Keet,"
then pointed back at the compartment they had just left.
"Jas-am," came the reply.
"We're talking!" For a moment the captain's relief and plea-sure at the
breakthrough swamped most of the survivor's emo-tional radiation, but not the
urgency.
"Not yet," Prilicla said. "We're exchanging personal-name sounds, but it's only
a start."
"Rhabwar here," the voice of Haslam sounding in their ear-pieces said. "I'm
afraid the Doctor is right, Captain. The com-puter needs more for an accurate
translation: verbs, accompanying actions, explanations, and a bigger vocabulary
to link the words together."
"Friend Haslam," he said, "Show the pictures of planets and
native species again, please, but just those for Earth and Cinruss. Then patch
in one of the survivor life-forms and a world with no geographical features."
Prilicla watched the tiny repeater screen in his suit as this was done. He said,
"Fletcher is from Earth, Prilicla is from Cin-russ, Keet is from ..." and
waited.
Without hesitation the voice from the robot said, "Flet-cha, Ert; Pil-ik-la,
Cin-russ; Keet, Tro-lan."
"We're getting there, Doctor," Haslam said excitedly; then, in a tone almost of
apology it went on. "Names and places of origin help, but they aren't enough for
the computer to begin structuring the language. We still need verbs and related
actions."
Unlike its outsize parent in Sector General, Rhabwar's trans-lation computer did
not carry a record of all of the intelligence-bearing clicks, moans, hisses, and
chirps that were used as speech by the members of the Galactic Federation, a
vast store of data which enabled it to compare the input of the new lan-guages
that were discovered from time to time and produce a translation. But the
ambulance ship had proved on several pre-vious occasions that it could do the
same job, with a little on-site help.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, pointing at the material in the other's transparent
satchel, "I need a short piece of fine cable that can be pulled apart easily,
and a short length of piping. Do you have one that is thin-walled and breaks
without shattering into pieces?"
He felt the captain's puzzlement dissolve in a flood of com-prehension. It
produced the cable, wrapped it around his hand and pulled it apart, then he
produced—not a pipe, but a length of thin sleeving—and snapped it in two before
handing the four pieces to him. It said, "Yes and no, Doctor. This breaks
without splintering, but it needs an Earth-human's muscles to do it."
Prilicla indicated a section of undamaged piping through one of the transparent
access hatches, then pointed back the way they had come towards the other
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survivor's position. Holding a piece of the broken pipe in each hand, he brought
them slowly together at the faces of the original fracture and did the same with
the severed wiring. He repeated the movements several time before speaking.
"Wire, pipes," he said, pointing at the captain and himself. "We join wires and
pipes. We fix wires and pipes. We repair"— he made a wide gesture that included
the ship all around them— "everything."
Through its robot crew member's sensors, the first survivor already knew that
they repaired things, although it had not known the word for what they had been
doing. He waited, strain-ing to detect the first feelings of comprehension that
would tell him that it understood the other, more important message that he was
trying to send. And when the crew robot spoke again, he knew that it did.
"Pil-ik-la, Flet-cha," it said. "Fix Jasam."
The captain gave a loud, barking laugh of sheer relief, which it cut short
abruptly in case it might have been mistaken for a threatening sound by the
survivor. On Rhabwar, Haslam sounded equally pleased.
"That's it!" said the lieutenant. "We have a translation. Just talk to it
naturally and mime only if you think it might not un-derstand a new action. The
conversation will be a bit stilted until you build up a vocabulary, but the
computer is happy. I'm re-laying the translation through your headsets. Nice
work. Any other instructions?"
Prilicla's body was shaking with a slow, even tremor of plea-sure and relief
that was tempered slightly by the remembered emotional radiation from the second
survivor, Jasam, which in-dicated that clinically it was in very bad shape.
"Stand by, friend Haslam," he said. "I need you to project more pictures. Edit
the previous run to show only the recovery of space-wreck casualties, then add
something on their transfer to and treatment on Rhabwar. Be brief regarding the
treatment, too much detail on surgical procedures might give the impression
that we go in for physical torture. Concentrate on the before-and-after aspects,
the badly injured casualties, and then showing them cured. Run them as soon as
you can."
Turning towards the inner door and the robot hovering in front of it, he brought
the two pieces of pipe together slowly and said, "I fix slowly," and repeated
the action and words several times; then he moved them quickly into contact and
said, "I fix quickly." Then he pointed back the way they had come and added, "I
fix Jasam quickly," emphasizing the last word.
He felt understanding and agreement coloring the ever-present deep concern, and
said, "Keet, the word for that is 'yes.''
He pointed in the direction of Jasam and used the broken pipe to indicate, he
hoped, that they were both broken. Then he raised a hand to his eyes before
pointing first at an undamaged sec-tion of piping and then at the inner door of
Keet's compartment.
"To fix the broken Jasam," he mimed as he said the words, "I must see the
unbroken Keet."
Again there was understanding, but with it there was a sud-den return of the
earlier fear and hatred.
"Keep that accursed druul away from us!" it said, so loudly that it must have
been its equivalent of a shout. "I don't trust it! We are both weakened and
helpless and it will eat us. We thought that interstellar space, at least, would
be clear of such vermin!"
Prilicla tried to ignore the captain's scandalized emotional radiation, and said
reassuringly, "Don't be afraid, Fletcher won't touch you. Fletcher fixes
machines. Prilicla fixes people."
The captain's low-voiced comment was lost in the sound of the inner door hissing
open.
It revealed a small compartment whose interior was an almost-solid mass of
support brackets, piping, and cable runs leading into a flattened oval dish at
its center. The upper half of the receptacle had a sealed, transparent cover
that gave a clear view of the co-captain of the ship. Physically Keet was
classifi-cation CHLI and closely resembled its robot crew member in size and
shape except that instead of the silvery metal skin there was
the veined brownish-pink of organic tissue. A continuous
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control-and-sensor-input panel laterally encircled the inner sur-face of the
body container, and the operating keys were within easy reach of the creature's
short digits. Its food, water-supply, and waste-extraction systems had been
surgically implanted into the relevant organs.
Prilicla's body shook briefly with a feeling composed of pity, revulsion, and
the claustrophobic fear known only to free-flying beings like himself when he
realized that the ship's organic crew had been confined to their control and
life-support pods with no freedom to move, not even around their own ship.
They had been installed with the rest of the ship's equip-ment.
From his medical satchel he took his scanner, reversed it so that Keet could see
the viewplate, and demonstrated its function by touching it against parts of his
own body, before moving it close to the other's pod.
"This will not hurt you," he said. "It will enable me to see inside your body so
that I can understand and fix anything that is wrong."
"Will you be able to fix Jasam, too?"
Its speech was going and coming through his translator now, clearly and with the
possibility for misunderstanding being re-duced with every word. The prime rule
during a first-contact situation was to find out as much a possible about the
other life-form so as to further reduce that risk, and to tell the truth at all
times.
But it was also sound medical practice to encourage a patient to talk about
itself, or any other pleasant subject in which it was interested, so as to take
its mind off a frightening or possibly embarrassing examination.
"I will try to fix Jasam," he said. "But to do that, I must first discover
everything I can about you and your people. For the best results I would like to
have full knowledge, even though there is no way of knowing which pieces of
information will be
helpful during the repairs, so just tell me about your partner, your lives, your
customs, the food you eat, and the things you like to do. In the event of an
unsuccessful repair, which is a faint possibility, who and where are your next
of kin? You are a com-pletely new and scientifically advanced life-form and
everything you say will be interesting and useful.
"Tell me about yourself, and your world."
CHAPTER 20
A few minutes into the examination there was an interrup-tion. The two courier
ships had arrived and, although they were keeping station at the requested
distance, their impatience for a full report on the situation could almost be
felt. The courier captains' voices were being relayed through Rhabwar to the
alien ship so that Prilicla and Fletcher, but not the alien casualties, could
hear them.
"This is not a good time to stop and make reports, friend Fletcher," said
Prilicla without looking up from the scanner. "Just tell them that..."
"I know what to tell them," said the other, and went on briskly. "A very
delicate first-contact situation is proceeding as we speak. The alien vessel has
a crew of two, both physiological classification CHLI; one is seriously injured
and the other less so. The medical examination and the contact procedure are
being conducted by Dr. Prilicla and are complicated by the fact that the
casualties have a rabid fear of all DBDG life-forms regardless of size,
apparently because of our close resemblance to a natural enemy on their home
planet. All of the proceedings so far have been recorded in case of accidents,
but I ask that you wait to avoid taking back an incomplete report that could be
updated from hour to hour."
"Understood, sir," came the reply. "Over and listening out."
At first the casualty seemed anxious to talk about the druul, and how much its
race hated and feared them, rather than about its world or itself. The proximity
of Fletcher was doubtless re-sponsible for that. Prilicla continued to speak and
to radiate ver-bal and emotional reassurance while he plied his scanner and the
captain kept its distance. Gradually the subject widened but it always veered
back to the hated druul. Keet's species called themselves the Trolanni, and
their world Trolann, and over the past few centuries it had become a savage,
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frightful place of unending war for its diminishing re-sources against the druul
and the other organic and inorganic pollutants that were fast making the
once-populous world un-inhabitable for both of its intelligent species, as well
as for most other forms of life above the insect level.
Many attempts had been made to check the self-poisoning of their overcrowded
world and to impose strict controls on the high degree of industrialization
needed to support it if irrevers-ible chemical changes were not to increase the
level of toxicity to the point where the planetary biosphere would no longer be
able to support life. But preventative and curative measures on that scale
required personal sacrifices, self-control, and the coopera-tion of everyone
concerned. A large minority of the Trolanni, and all of the druul, refused to
give it.
Possibly there were individuals who thought differently, but as a population the
druul decided that the problem would be solved if the Trolanni and their food
supply were considered a natural resource and used exclusively for the benefit
and contin-ued survival of the druul.
As a species the druul were small, bipedal, vicious, fast-breeding, and utterly
implacable where enemies, sapient or oth-erwise, were concerned. From the dawn
of history their rate of scientific and technological achievement had been equal
to the Trolanni, so that the wars they had fought had been forced to a stop
rather than being won. In spite of many peace overtures by the Trolanni, the two
species had lived in a state of unfriendly coexistence until a war that was no
longer stoppable was being fought for the diminishing resources of the stinking,
polluted, near-corpse that was their planet. For many generations the druul had
practiced cannibalism, eating even the sickly young or the elderly or otherwise
unproductive people of their own race. They could not be defeated because there
were always more of them hungry and ready to fight. Apart from a few pockets of
weakening resistance and the latest Trolanni technology which defended them, the
planet belonged to the druul.
The only solution was for the Trolanni to find a new, un-polluted and peaceful
home.
"You found a new home here," said Prilicla gently. "What went wrong?"
"A technical failure of some kind," said Keet, radiating feel-ings of minor
embarrassment and apology. "I'm not the pro-pulsion specialist. After finding an
ideal world it seemed as if we couldn't return home with the news. But we had
signaling de-vices, two of them, untried because none of the searchsuits had
used them before then. The first one malfunctioned and seriously damaged the
hull. The second one was modified, but it destroyed the doll who released it.
Then the ship with the druuls in it arrived."
"They weren't druuls," said Prilicla. "It was a rescue ship that came to help
you."
"I'm sorry," said Keet. "I know that, now."
Prilicla withdrew the scanner and moved back. He had all the physiological data
he needed for a preliminary assessment of the other casualty's condition, but a
lot more non-medical in-formation was needed. He said, "I'll stay in contact
with you, but we're moving over to look at Jasam now. Tell it not to be afraid;
neither friend Fletcher nor myself mean it any harm. Why did you attack the
first rescue ship?"
"We didn't," it replied quickly. "It attacked our protective suit..."
For the few minutes it took them to transfer to the other control module,
Prilicla listened to Keet's reassuring words to its life-mate and felt the
growing trust in Fletcher and himself that accompanied them even though they
were feelings that Jasam had yet to share.
"... That is what the druul have been doing to us for hun-dreds of years," it
continued, "and many of our scientists think that they no longer know why they
do it. As individuals they are predominantly machines designed to attack and
penetrate our protective suits, as a nut is cracked to uncover its edible
kernel, although all too often the kernel itself is destroyed by the ferocity of
the onslaught so that there is no reward for the tiny, organic fraction that
controls the machines they have become. We Tro-lanni, at least, are whole,
sapient, and civilized, if very sickly, people inside our protective suits,
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although with this two-body searchsuit with its vastly greater proportion of
machine-to-or-ganic life, we were forced to become more like the druul.. .."
So they thought of their ship as a searchsuit, a bigger, more complex and
specialized version of the individual protective gar-ment than those that the
planet-based druul forced them to wear. Interesting. Prilicla could feel the
captain's mounting excitement as Keet continued speaking, but he knew that
friend Fletcher would not interrupt the flow of information with a question that
would shortly be answered.
".. . In this instance," it went on, "our hull protection was designed to
safeguard us for the short time we were in atmo-sphere before we entered space,
where so far the druul have been unable to go. The protection operates
continuously in a state of high alert, and instantly disrupts the
computer-operated control and life-support systems of any attacking
machine-encased druul. But we never expected to find them, or beings just like
them, between the stars. That was terrifying for us and there was noth-ing we
could do."
"It would help us to help Jasam and yourself," Prilicla said gently, "if your
protective device could be switched off. Can it?"
"No," said Keet, "at least not by us. To do that, specialist knowledge and
devices are needed and these are available only on our home world. It must not
be switched off because its pro-tection is needed during our second trip through
atmosphere, hopefully on our way home to report success in finding a new world.
But instead ... Please, will Jasam live?"
Sometimes, Prilicla thought, as he noted the damage to its life-mate as well as
the traces of dried body fluid that were stain-ing the joins where the metal and
organic interface was visible, it was not always advisable to tell the truth
even in a first-contact situation.
"There is a strong possibility that we'll be able to save its life," he said.
"But not in here," said the captain on their personal fre-quency that did not go
through the translator. Quickly and con-cisely it went on to explain why while
Prilicla tried to provide a more optimistic translation for the two Trolanni,
continuing his scanner examination of the second casualty as he spoke.
Jasam's injuries had been due to the structural damage to its side of the
searchsuit, caused by the explosive failure of the first beacon they had
released, which in turn had caused multiple fracturing and dislocation of the
life-support plumbing that had been surgically implanted into its body. Its
resultant external and internal wounds were extensive and serious, he explained,
but with the right treatment they would not be life-threatening. He personally
had repaired organic damage that was much more severe and had returned the
entity concerned to full health.
"But in this case," he went on, "the right treatment would first involve
removing Jasam and yourself from your vessel—"
"And leave us without a suit!" Keet broke in. "And, and life support? We've
already lost our dolls—Jasam's destroyed, and mine damaged beyond the ability to
do sensitive repair work. No!"
They called their robot crew members "dolls," Prilicla thought, and the
accompanying emotional radiation was indicative of the feelings held for a
friend and helper as well as for a pet or plaything. Curious—but satisfying that
curiosity would have to wait until the more urgent problem of removing them from
their ship-sized protective suit was settled.
"On Trolann," he went on, projecting reassurance with every ounce of empathic
energy in his mind, "there must be doctors, healers, beings who cure or repair
organic disease or damage. To perform this work effectively there must be easy
ac-cess to the site of the trouble, so am I correct in thinking that they prefer
the sick or injured patient to be unclothed?"
"Yes," said Keet. "But that is on Trolann. Out here ..."
"Out here," said Prilicla gently, "you would be much safer. Rhabwar, the ship
that you see nearby, was expressly designed for and contains all the equipment
necessary to do such work, and it has done it many times. But the equipment is
both bulky and highly sensitive. If it was to be moved to your vessel, a
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dif-ficult job in itself, there would be a serious risk of the ship's protective
devices disabling its computer-operated circuitry, as it does with the druul
machines. There isn't much time left. Your life-support consumables, Jasam's
especially, have leaked away and are close to exhaustion.
"If both of you are to survive," he ended, "You must agree and I must act,
quickly."
There was a moment's silence while Keet radiated growing uncertainty, then it
said, "Both of us? I, I thought one of us would stay in our searchsuit until the
organic and mechanical repairs were done, then Jasam would be reinserted and ...
There is very little organic damage to myself."
"I know," said Prilicla. "But I will need your help and advice for the
extraction process. You will be conscious and aware and will be able to tell us
exactly what we have to do at every stage, and we will be able to use the
experience more easily to detach your more seriously injured life-mate. We have
already analyzed and reproduced your food, air, and working fluid, the last two
of which are very similar to our own. My present plan is to put both of you into
a covered litter that contains all your life-support requirements, and where you
will be able to give close, emotional support to Jasam during the transfer to
our ship and the organic-repair work afterwards."
There was another silence, then Keet said, "Detaching Jasam is a difficult and
specialized job that is done only in case of an onboard emergency by a doll.
Jasam's doll was killed in the first explosion and mine was damaged in the
second. The control circuitry serving the forward cluster of fine, peripheral
digits, the ones needed for a complete body extraction, was burned out. My doll
is incapable of the delicate work that would be required. It is certain that we
will both die."
"That is not certain," said Prilicla, "and is not even likely. Controlled by our
own sensitive digits will be even finer and more delicate mechanisms that are
capable of doing the work. We are widely experienced in the extraction of
damaged organic casu-alties from the wreckage of starships, and friend Fletcher
will make a very good doll."
The captain made a noise that did not translate.
CHAPTER 21
When Lieutenant Dodds and the covered litter arrived it was met by Keet's doll
and quickly escorted forward to Prilicla and Fletcher in the control section.
Guided by its mistress and in spite of the impaired movement of its finer
digits, the doll was able to help and occasionally hinder Prilicla and the
captain during the long and physically uncomfortable process of detach-ing and
extricating Keet from the mass of control, communica-tions, and life-support
plumbing. It was a present and obvious subject of interest to both Fletcher and
himself, and in an attempt to keep the Trolanni's mind off the continuing
discomfort they were inflicting as well as its deep concern for Jasam, whose
com-munications line they had been forced to sever temporarily, Pril-icla began
to question it with gentle persistence about the dolls.
It was an interesting change of subject.
"I don't know why you find them of such interest," Keet protested, radiating
minor embarrassment. "They are toys, play-things, used mainly by the very young,
or some adults who feel the need to remind themselves of the kind of people that
we used to be in the past, when we could move freely and swim and climb and play
together and touch without being weighed down and smothered by heavy and
uncomfortable protective suits. The dolls are lifelike, life-sized, and closely
modeled after their owners, and while the children's are simple both in mind and
struc-ture, those of the adults are highly sophisticated, and are capable of a
wide range of supportive functions and recreational activities which their
owners can enjoy vicariously and which in many cases answers a psychological
need.
"Jasam and I," Keet went on, "were to be enclosed per-manently in a searchsuit
where, for operational reasons, we would be close but unable to make physical
contact for the rest of our lives. The project psychologists decided that a crew
of two specialized dolls—in design and function the most versatile and
intelligent to be built—would operate and maintain our search-suit and, it was
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thought, the fact that they were exact copies of ourselves would help reduce our
feelings of loss and loneliness and so maintain our sanity."
Prilicla reached into the restricted space the captain and the robot had cleared
for him in the dense mass of plumbing, and put a tiny clamp on the fine tube
that carried the liquefied food from the nearly empty reservoir through Keet's
abdominal wall. It was a little like brain surgery, he thought, involving as it
did the manipulation of delicate organs in a very confined space. He
concentrated on the work for several minutes until he was sat-isfied with it,
then withdrew before speaking.
"Did they?" he said.
"They did," it ended, "until we found this fresh, lovely, and untouched world
and our position beacons blew up, and your rescue ship blundered onto the
scene." It paused, then added, "I don't think you, or your druul-like helper,
are blundering now."
"Thank you," said Prilicla, knowing that Keet's feelings were backing up its
words. "But now we have to transfer you to the litter and attend to some
superficial wounding caused by the extraction. The treatment will be quick and
simple, a few sutures and the application of a healing ointment suited to your
meta-bolism. You won't have an adverse reaction to it because it is identical to
one of the medications carried in your doll's medical kit which, you will
remember, we analyzed and reproduced ear-lier. Ready everyone?"
It was like moving a limp, half-cooked pancake through a three-dimensional maze
of barbed wire, the captain said on their private frequency. Prilicla had no
idea what a pancake was, his only Earth-human food weakness being spaghetti, and
had to take the other's word for it. But finally they had Keet out of its
control cocoon, its wounds treated, and resting comfortably in the litter.
"What now?" it said.
"Now," Prilicla replied, "we seal the litter and move it into Jasam's section,
reconnect the communications line so you'll be able to tell it what has been
happening while friend Fletcher and I do the same for our own people who must
make preparations to receive two new casualties. After that... My apologies, I
need to sleep again."
While they were moving the litter to the other section of the control center,
Prilicla quickly explained the situation to Pathol-ogist Murchison while
transmitting visuals of the scene that were being relayed to the surface by
Rhabwar. The ground facility was more spacious than the ambulance ship's
casualty deck, and all of his medical staff as well as the Terragar survivors
were there. Keet and Jasam were talking together and the captain was about to
begin his situation report, both of which were being recorded in case he needed
to refer to them later, when he suddenly lost touch with reality.
Captain Fletcher looked at the sleeping Prilicla, lowered his voice, and, using
a frequency that the two aliens could overhear, spoke briskly.
"Courier Vessel One," he said. "We can now report that the distressed alien ship
is non-hostile and that the damage inflicted on Terragar was due to a
combination of ignorance and a close-range defense system of high lethality that
instantly kills any ship's computer-controlled systems, but not the living
organic contents, that touches it. This defense system remains active and is an
extreme danger to any investigating ship—regardless of size and armament—making
a close approach. It is imperative that you remain at your present distance and
that all other vessels be forbidden to enter this system until a countermeasure
has been found.
"The ship's planet of origin is Trolann," it went on, "loca-tion as yet unknown,
where the Trolanni are losing a war that has lasted for many centuries with
another indigenous species, the druul, with whom it has been impossible to come
to an ac-commodation. Physically the druul bear a close resemblance to the DBDG
physiological classification, a fact which initially made the first-contact
procedure very difficult because they looked on Rhabwars Earth-human personnel
as natural enemies rather than rescuers. Now I believe that we have done enough
to earn their trust..."
"Our limited trust," Keet broke in. "I trust Prilicla, and to a lesser extent
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you, because you do as it asks and seem anxious to help us, but Jasam remains
fearful and untrusting. About the other ones who look like dmuls, I, too, am
uncertain."
"But that," said the captain, "is because you haven't seen them helping you as
Prilicla and I have been doing. Their work is in the background, but it is being
done. They are not, never were, nor ever will be like the druul. May I continue
with my report?
"The Trolanni are of physiological classification CHLI," he went on when Keet
did not reply, "warm-blooded oxygen-breathers, although there is very little
breathable oxygen remain-ing on their heavily polluted planet. They describe
themselves as an embattled minority of... Keet, what is the total number of
Trolanni on your planet?"
"Just under one hundred thousand," it replied promptly.
"As few as that?" said the captain, its face paling as it re-turned to its
report and went on. "In that case, and bearing in mind the fact that the
Trolanni have a limited space-travel ca-pability, I strongly recommend that the
Federation mount a
disaster-relief and evacuation operation to move them from their virtually
uninhabitable planet to another world, the world below us, in fact, which Keet
and Jasam found for their people before their ship was damaged in an attempt to
signal its location. I further recommend that provision be made to interdict all
druul offensive operations until the Trolanni are evacuated safely, after which,
if cultural reeducation is possible, we should determine the druul's needs for
continued survival and ..."
Inside the litter canopy, Keet's body was twitching in great agitation. It said,
"Aren't you going to kill them all, or at least let them die fighting among
themselves? That's what they'll do if there's nobody else to fight. Or maybe you
can't kill them. Maybe you're favorably disposed towards them, more so than
towards the Trolanni, because the druul look like you. I'm sorry, but I think we
were right about you from the start. A helpful, appar-ently friendly druul is
still a druul. You disappoint us, Fletcher."
The captain shook his head. "Our physically similar ap-pearance has nothing to
do with it. On Earth there are creatures shaped like humans. In our prehistory,
we developed intelligence and ultimately civilization, but they did not, and to
this day re-main non-sapient animals. They are not evil in themselves but are
governed by animal instincts that sometimes make them a danger to humans, and
for this reason they are confined, re-stricted, and cared for in their own areas
where they cannot harm us. If the druul are thinking animals, implacable,
vicious, unable to be taught civilized ways, or are incapable of governing their
own instincts and behavior, that—if it is possible for us to do it—is what would
happen to them. They would be isolated and Trolann would be interdicted by the
Federation and no contact with any other species allowed.
"But we would not exterminate a species just because its long-term enemy thought
it was warranted," the captain ended. "The druul and you may not be able to view
each other or your problem with objectivity. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to
return to my report___"
The captain resumed his description of the situation on the alien ship and their
plans for resolving it while at the same time, by implication, mentally
preparing the Trolanni casualties for what was to come by describing the
structural problems of ca-sualty extraction before the medical problems could be
solved. But Keet was finding it difficult to remain silent.
"Prilicla and you are all right, I suppose," Keet said, "but are strangers of
your kind going to be handling us? That would frighten Jasam and me very much.
He might hurt himself even more trying to fight you off. We'd rather Prilicla
did everything. We like it."
"Everybody likes Prilicla," said Fletcher, looking aside at the sleeping empath,
"but physically it is too weak to do everything itself. That's why it will need
heavy cutting equipment and the help of Dodds and Chen, two other Earth-humans
like myself, to clear a path to and enclose the area in a pressure envelope
before Prilicla can begin treating Jasam's injuries. But all of us, in my ship
and on the surface are the same as Prilicla. We all want to help cure Jasam and
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yourself. While we're doing that, you'll come to know all of us, and trust us,
and tell us how we can help your people."
For a long time there was silence while the captain crawled about in the
wreckage surrounding Jasam's control pod, marking structural members that would
have to be cut away, lengths of plumbing to be sealed off, and talking quietly.
Everything he said formed part of his report including—although the Trolanni
might not have realized it—the conversations with Keet and all the recorded
material on the Terragar landing and casualties.
Everything went into a first-contact report.
"Jasam is very worried," said Keet suddenly, "in case there are healers on the
surface who look like you. If there are, he doesn't want them to touch him. He
says he'd rather die. Why don't we go to the hospital you showed us, where there
are many healers who don't look like the druul?"
In a first-contact situation the rule was to tell the truth but
to keep it as simple as possible. The captain said, "My ship has been ordered to
remain in this vicinity to warn off any other ves-sels who might want to
investigate your searchsuit and suffer damage as a result. On Rhabwar there are
four Earth-human ship's officers including myself, and four healers. Prilicla,
you al-ready know, is in charge; then an Earth-human female called Murchison who
looks, well, somewhat different than me; a Kel-gian who has twenty legs and is
covered with mobile fur; and a shape-changer called Danalta who can look like
anything or everything, even a Trolanni if it thought that shape would be
re-assuring to you or your life-mate. There are also three Earth-humans who are
badly damaged. The medical team, with the exception of Prilicla, are down there
in a special healing facility, taking care of them. None of them, not even the
Terragar casu-alties, will want to harm you while you get to know us better.
Be-sides, the repairing of physical damage isn't everything. We think that it
might make you feel better and assist your non-medical healing if you were to
spend some time recuperating on the beau-tiful world Jasam and yourself have
discovered for the Trolanni."
There was no reply, and the short silence was broken by the quiet voice of
Prilicla speaking on the captain's private frequency.
"I've been awake for the past few minutes," he said, "and I could not have
handled the situation better if I'd done it myself. Thank you, friend Fletcher.
Keet is feeling greatly comforted and Jasam, who is still anxious and barely
conscious, shares its life-mate's reassurance. This would be a good time to call
in friends Dodds and Chen."
During the next three hours, while the damaged area sur-rounding Jasam's control
pod was being isolated in a temporary pressure bubble and excised from its
surrounding control actu-ators, plumbing, and wiring, the lines between
technical and medical work were frequently blurred by the fact that Rhabwar's
officers were doing much more delicate work than that being Performed by
Prilicla. Even though he was not due to sleep for another four hours, by the
time they were finished and Jasam
was sharing the other half of the pressure litter with Keet, he felt so tired
that it was an effort for him not to lose consciousness prematurely. The
captain, who had not slept for two Earth stan-dard days and did not seem to be
affected by fatigue, was con-cluding its report to the courier vessels.
"... Friendly relations have been established with the two Trolanni casualties
who are ready for transfer to Rhabwar and immediate onward transportation to the
surface medical sta-tion," he said crisply. "According to Dr. Prilicla, the
being Keet has superficial injuries and is in no danger, but the other one,
Jasam, is giving cause for concern. Urgent surgery is required, and the
prognosis is uncertain. You have everything you need to know, but I suggest that
you both remain on station, stay well clear of the alien ship's hull which is
still active and a continuing danger, and wait a few hours for the latest good
or bad news.
"From here on this is expected to be a routine medical mat-ter," it ended, "and
we cannot foresee anything going wrong."
CHAPTER 22
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At the medical station the routines of the day had proceeded with a similar lack
of drama, but the surroundings were beautiful, relaxing, and much too pleasant
for boredom to be a consideration. The patients were in satisfactory medical and
good psychological shape following their twice-daily immersion in the shallows
and subsequent sun-drying, and had been moved in-doors. The sun was within an
hour of setting, with its close-to-horizontal light reflecting off the
reddish-white breakers on a sea that was dark blue. It was the ideal time of day
for another walk around the island.
Inevitably accompanied, Murchison thought irritably, by her shape-changing and
by now totally redundant guardian an-gel.
There was no real reason, other than that she had never done so before and the
team members and patients might worry, why she should be back inside the station
before nightfall. But to reduce the unnecessary worrying all around, she decided
not to break with tradition by jogging instead of walking the distance, and to
stop only for a brief swim in her favorite beauty spot, a tiny, tree-fringed bay
on the opposite side of the island.
She was nearing it, and the station was hidden by the curve of the shoreline
behind her, when the sun began to set, although from experience she knew that
there would be enough dusk left to see her way back. In the shallows Danalta was
keeping pace with her, arrowing through the breaking surf and occasionally
leaping into the air as it did its impression of a flying fish. She was running
fast over the firm, damp sand with her eyes down so as to avoid the scattered
white stones in her path when the shape-changer made a noise that did not
translate, and flopped rapidly out of the water and onto the sand beside her.
While it was still changing from an aquatic to a land mobile form, what had been
one of its fins thickened into a hand and it pointed ahead.
This, Murchison thought as she slowed to a stop under the trees, is certainly an
interesting change in the in the usual scenery.
It was a smooth, flattened mound covered with what looked like fibrous,
greenish-brown vegetation, or possibly scales or a form of seaweed, that floated
in the water with a narrow section of its forward edge projecting a few yards
onto the sandy beach. It was large enough to fill a quarter of the tiny inlet
and she was reminded of an outsize, beached whale.
"I'd say that this is one of the objects we saw from the high ground that first
day," she said, "and now we're seeing it close-up. You have better vision than I
have. Is it alive?"
Danalta, whose land shape was still indeterminate, enlarged an eye and said, "It
has the general appearance of a large sea mammal, although the breathing
orifices and fins are concealed from view or underwater. There is a slight
overall body move-ment that is probably due to wave action rather than
respiration. It may be alive and close to termination. But there is still a
risk. Shall I investigate more closely?"
"We will investigate," she said, stressing the first word, "af-ter we've
reported this in. But I'd say the risk is minimal." She pointed to the sky above
the beached creature and laughed qui-etly. "The vultures are gathering again and
that's always a strong contraindication for casualty survivability."
The birds were circling stiff-winged as they rode the updrafts
from the sandy beach that was still radiating the day's heat, and they were
lower and closer than she had ever seen them before. Both bodies and their
wide-spreading, leathery wings were the same color and seemed to have the same
texture as that of the beached creature, and they looked mean. Instinctively she
moved back under the concealment of thick, overhanging branches, hoping they
hadn't seen her.
Danalta remained motionless except for lengthening his eye-stalk and bending it
up to look at them.
"They aren't birds," it said quietly, "they're flying machines, unpowered
gliders. Each one has a pilot."
For a moment Murchison was too surprised to react, men-tally or physically. This
was supposed to be an uninhabited world. According to Rhabwar's sensors it was
completely lacking in the signatures of cultivation, roads, electromagnetic
radiation, in-dustrial smoke pollution, or any of the signs normally produced by
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intelligent life, and certainly by an indigenous intelligence ca-pable of
building flying machines. It came to her suddenly that the reason why the two
gliders were flying so low might be that their pilots wanted the high ground at
the center of the island to conceal the operation from the view of the medical
station in case someone there decided to look inland.
Fumbling in her haste, Murchison pulled her communicator out of the equipment
pouch at her waist and had it almost to her lips when something large and soft
and with many hairy legs landed on her back and shoulders. Simultaneously
another one of them gripped her legs tightly so that she tripped and fell
for-wards, dropping the communicator as she instinctively put out both hands to
keep her face from hitting the ground.
She was trying to reach for the communicator again when another one landed on
her arm before grabbing her by the wrists and pulling them to her sides with
small, hard pincers. She was lifted a few feet from the ground and her body was
rotated lat-erally, and she felt her legs being wrapped together tightly in what
-1 like very fine rope. The turns continued up and past her hips,
pinioning both hands and lower arms to her sides. She was able to get a close if
intermittent look at her captor Spiders.
Two of them were holding and rolling her over while a third was producing from a
body orifice the continuous, fine white strand that was wrapping her up. Three
others were dropping lightly to the ground from overhanging branches on white
strands that were almost too thin for her to to see, their brownish-green body
coloration making them difficult to see against the vegetation until they
landed. Each of them was hold-ing a thick, stubbly crossbow with their bolts
notched and bow-strings taut.
She had never had a fear of Earthly spiders, and there were many more visually
abhorrent creatures among her friends and colleagues at Sector General, but that
didn't mean that she liked everything that walked on eight hairy legs,
especially, as now, when they were placing her life at risk.
Struggling to break free did no good because the thin strands were very tough
and she succeeded only in leaving deep inden-tations and a few shallow cuts on
her legs and forearms. She opened her mouth wide and deliberately made loud,
whooshing sounds while inflating and deflating her lungs, hoping to dem-onstrate
the need to go on breathing which she would not be able to do if the strands
around her chest were too tight.
Whether they understood her body language or that had been their original
intention she didn't know, but the white strands were exerting minimum
compression on her rib cage. She could breathe comfortably but not too deeply
unless she wanted to risk cutting herself. She could turn her head freely and
even bend a little at the waist. One of them took an interest in her translator
pack and tried to tug it free, but it and the medical pouch were an integral
part of the equipment belt so the creature didn't succeed. When it persisted she
made a noise to indicate that it was hurting her and it desisted. Then they
rolled her face-upwards onto a hammock made from woven plant fiber of some
kind and four of them each lifted a corner and began carrying her towards the
beach while the other two followed. One of them, the one who had tried to get
her translator, picked up her com-municator from the ground and began poking at
it curiously. There was no sign of Danalta.
She didn't know what the shape-changer could do, but it should be able to think
of something. So, Murchison thought angrily, should she. For a moment she
wondered if she was gen-erating her anger just to keep her growing fear at bay.
The sun had set but there was still enough light to see the beach clearly, and
the object she had thought was a sea mammal. The smooth, outer covering was
opening up to become a series of low, triangular sails resembling those of an
old-time Earth felucca, and their supporting masts and rigging were still being
raised, and the two flyers had landed and were half carrying, half dragging
their gliders towards it. But her party, being closer, would board first.
Plainly the spiders were excited because they were making low, cheeping and
chittering sounds to each other or calling more loudly to the glider pilots and
others on the ship. Suddenly there was an interruption, a sound that had not
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come from any local throat.
"Speak, Pathologist Murchison," said the loud, irritated voice of Charge Nurse
Naydrad. "If you don't want to say some-thing, why are you using your
communicator? I have work to do. Stop wasting my time."
Her bearers stopped so quickly that she almost rolled out of the litter, and the
spider with her communicator dropped it onto the sand and backed away,
chittering shrilly in alarm. Murchison laughed in spite of her problems. It was
obvious what had hap-pened because she could see the two indicator lights
glowing. The spider who had been fiddling with it had inadvertently turned the
reception volume to full as well as switching on the device. But the
communicator was active and, even though it was lying in the sand several meters
away and at extreme distance for a handset, Naydrad was listening.
The spiders were used to her making loud noises at them, but only when she was
communicating discomfort, and now she had to talk loudly to Naydrad. But there
was the danger of arous-ing their suspicions by making noises without a reason,
when none of them was touching or therefore hurting her. If they were to get the
idea that a conversation was going on, that she was calling for help, then they
would immediately silence her or the communicator. They were already trying to
do the latter by standing well back from it and pelting it with stones from the
beach rather than shooting their crossbow bolts at it. Luckily they had missed
it so far, but communicators were not robust instru-ments.
In an undertone Murchison used language that was unlad-ylike—her only unfeminine
trait, according to her life-mate— and thought quickly. There was very little
time to send a message, and none at all if one of those rocks connected. She
took the deepest breath she could without cutting herself and spoke slowly and
clearly while hoping that the excited chittering of the spiders all around her
would keep them from noticing the strange noises she was making.
"Naydrad, Murchison here. Listen, don't talk, and copy. We have been captured by
indigenous intelligent life-forms, tentative classification GKSD ..."
The spiders weren't paying any attention to her and were concentrating on their
stone-throwing, which wasn't accurate be-cause the communicator continued to
survive and show its in-dicator lights.
"They appear to be sea raiders of some kind," she went on more calmly. "They use
large sailing ships, unpowered aircraft, crossbows, and there is no evidence of
metal weapons. I've been tightly restrained but not hurt and am unable to see
Danalta ..."
She broke off, realizing that her last few words might have been a lie. It was
hard to be sure in the dimming twilight, but it seemed that the sand on one side
of the communicator was showing wind ripples. Then, suddenly, they were all
around it as Dan-alta did its impression of a patch of sandy beach. A moment
later the device and its indicator lights disappeared from sight.
The spiders threw a few more stones, their voices sounding surprised and uneasy
rather than angry at this apparent display of magic, but with no target to aim
at they were beginning to lose interest. But a few stones would not bother
Danalta, whose hide, regardless of the shape it was covering, was impermeable to
most classes of low-velocity missiles. The important part was that it had
rescued and was protecting the communicator and, when the spiders left the
scene, it would be able to contact the medical station which would relay its
report to Rhabwar.
Murchison was still feeling anxious about her immediate future, but more hopeful
than she had been a few minutes earlier, when a loud, authoritative, chittering
sound coming from the spiders' vessel drew her attention towards it.
Several of the triangular openings in the hull were open and emitting a dim
yellow flickering glow which, Murchison felt sure, had to be coming from oil
lamps or candles. High on the prow of the vessel and silhouetted against the
darkening sky she could dimly see the spider who seemed to be making all the
noise. It was holding a tapering black cone to its head that had to be a
speaking trumpet. Beyond the beached vessel and perhaps half a mile out to sea
there was another vessel, identical in size and shape and also showing a few
patches of dim illumination. The view of it was cut off by the body of one of
the four spiders who raised her litter and resumed their journey towards the
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beached ship.
They had not reacted adversely while she had been speaking earlier, possibly
because they had been too busy stoning and talk-mg among themselves to notice or
care, so she decided to pass on the latest information before they all moved too
far from the capture point.
"Danalta," she said, "the indications are that the GKSDs do
not have electric power or radio communication. Another vessel of the same size
and shape is entering the bay and a third is on the horizon ..."
Murchison broke off as the escort halted. One of them chit-tered loudly at her
and began inserting a claw between her body and the strands binding her,
possibly checking on their tightness. It was making her very uncomfortable so
she shut up.
She didn't know if her words had been heard, but she hoped that the small patch
of beach that was Danalta included a sandy ear.
CHAPTER 23
The captain's face on the casualty deck's viewscreen had the darkened pink color
characteristic of strong emotion, strong enough to filter down the length of the
ship from the control deck.
"Doctor," it said, "I have an incoming message from the medical station which is
being relayed from Danalta who is some-where else on the island. This, this is
ridiculous. It says that Pa-thologist Murchison has been captured by pirates of
some kind. But that world down there shows no evidence of sapient life. Have
your medics been using their medical supplies for recrea-tional purposes? Would
you talk to them, please, before I say something grossly impolite?"
For an instant Prilicla glanced towards the forms of the un-conscious Jasam and
the wide-awake Keet, wondering whether or not he should switch off the
translator, then decided to leave it on. Secrecy in a first-contact situation
was not a good thing.
"Of course, friend Fletcher," he replied. "Patch them through."
As Danalta's report came in, with occasional interjections from Naydrad,
Prilicla wondered if he had made the right deci-sion about allowing Keet to
overhear it. The Trolanni's emotional radiation was becoming increasingly
disturbed, but that of the
captain had changed from irritation to deep concern. When the shape-changer's
report ended, Fletcher spoke before Prilicla could respond.
"Doctor," it said urgently, "you will agree that this has be-come a
predominantly tactical and military, rather than a med-ical, problem. That being
so, with or without your permission, I must take charge."
"It is both a medical and military problem, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla.
"But the first priority, military or medical, must be to have friend Murchison
returned to us safely and soon."
"My thought exactly," said the captain. "But the position is delicate. We are
now faced with two first-contact situations that are running concurrently. The
Trolanni one is going well, but these intelligent spiders .. . Imagine, a
culture based on non-metal technology that possesses fighting ships, gliders,
uses cross-bows, and has no electric power generation or radio communication.
They seem to have fire for lighting and perhaps cooking purposes but make no
large-scale industrial use of it. No wonder the sensors found no signs of
sapient life down there. An ambulance ship doesn't carry weapons, naturally, but
we'd have no trouble taking them on with our tractor beams and me-teorite
shield..."
He paused and added, "... if we were allowed."
Prilicla knew as well as the captain how strict were the rules governing contact
with any newly-discovered planet that held intelligent life. If the culture had
a space-travel capability and the technology to support it, as well as the
mind-set that had pre-pared them for the possibility of meeting other life-forms
among the stars, then the contact procedure was straightforward. But if the
indigenous race was primitive, then a careful and covert as-sessment had to be
made regarding the long-term effects of mak-ing such a contact and a decision
taken on whether or not it should proceed.
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There was always the danger that strange beings dropping out of the sky in their
thundering ships, even though the entities concerned wanted only to help, would
give rise to an inferiority complex in an emerging culture, from which it might
never re-cover. A starship, the wreck of Terragar, had already landed and no
doubt been spotted by the reconnaissance gliders, so the Dam-age might already
have been done. But taking hostile action against them, even thought it would be
in response to Murchi-son's abduction, would most definitely be
contraregulation-
"The gliders will already have told their mother ships about the medical
station," the captain added, radiating worry. "$ the spiders decide to raid it
from the land or sea, it has no defenses
"Regardless of the rules, friend Fletcher," he said firmly' we must somehow
defend our people and patients there without injuring any of the spiders.
Agreed? As a tactician, have you a plan for doing that?"
"I'll need to think about that for a while," the captain re-plied. "But what
about Pathologist Murchison? We aren't trained or equipped to send in a rescue
party, and getting her out any other way would mean tearing the fabric of that
spider ship apart with tractor beams."
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "you have a little til116 to think about
defending the medical facility while we are moving Jasam and Keet there or, if
necessary, moving the others b^ck on board Rhabwar. Regarding friend Murchison,
I want to discuss the pathologist's situation with friend Danalta, who is still
stand-ing by and is close to the ships. It is a resourceful and versatile
guardian and intelligence-gatherer."
"That it is," said the captain. "I'll relay my radio traffic to you so that
you'll know what I'm doing. Breaking contact-While he was speaking to the
shape-changer, Prilicla could feel Keet's puzzlement and impatience, but the
Trolanni didn't interrupt with questions even after he had finished talking- He
knew that Danalta was concerned for friend Murchison's safety, out he was
worried because the shape-changer rarely worried about anything. He gave the
other advice and careful instructions and, hoping for the best, he was flying
across to speak to the increasingly impatient Keet when the captain's voice
sounded in the control-deck repeater.
"Courier One," it was saying. "Regarding my situation re-port, I have an update
for you. An indigenous intelligent species has been discovered on the planet
below. They are physiological classification GKSD, possibly warlike, and
possessing limited, non-metal technology. Pathologist Murchison has been
captured by them but the latest information is that she is unhurt. Two separate
first-contact operations are now in progress. The dam-aged Trolanni vessel and
this solar system remain in quarantine. No other vessels are to approach. Leave
with this new informa-tion at once. Courier Two, you will stand by and listen
out for further developments. Off."
"Prilicla," Keet said before he could speak, "I have heard and understood every
word spoken by you and the druul-like person, but the meaning of the words
joined together confuses me. Are Jasam and I in danger, or the Murchison person?
Per-sonally I would not find the absence of this Murchison distress-ing, even
though you have assured me that it is a very good healer in spite of looking
like a druul. But you told me that this lovely world that Jasam and I have found
was empty. Where did these warlike spiders come from? We were wearing the last
and best searchsuit. Our people might never be able to build another. What is to
happen to us now?"
Even though a large proportion of his feelings were engaged in worrying over
friend Murchison's safety, Prilicla radiated as much sympathy and reassurance as
he could while explaining the situation. He spoke truthfully, but because Jasam
and Keet were patients, he laced the truth heavily with optimism.
"Both of you will be moved as quickly as possible to the surface," he said,
"where I and what remains of my medical team will be able to help Jasam, whose
condition requires urgent sur-gical treatment. The spiders are hostile, for
reasons we will not understand until we learn how to speak to them. We didn't
know of their existence until an hour ago, but we are strangers who
landed on their world without permission and that can be a strong reason for
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hostility. Or perhaps, as beings completely strange to their experience, they
were curious and simply wanted to investigate a new life-form. But they don't
pose a physical threat, except to friend Murchison, because our level of
technol-ogy is far above theirs.
"However," he went on, "regardless of their species' level of intelligence or
how technologically primitive they are, this is their home world. The
Federation, our law-givers, would not allow the Trolanni to use your advanced
technology to take it from them, or to settle on it without the expressed
permission and agreement of the spiders-----"
"If we did not do that," the weak voice of Jasam broke in, "we would be no
better than the druul."
Tactfully ignoring the remark but pleased that it was joining in the
conversation, Prilicla went on, "But there are many worlds known to the Galactic
Federation which are without intelligent life. When both of you are fully
recovered and able to return in one of our ships to Trolann, we will show your
people pictures of these worlds, and analyses of their water, atmosphere, and
surface plant and animal life. Then we will make arrangements to move the
Trolanni to the world of your choice. ..."
"And will you exterminate the druul," Keet interrupted, "so that we may leave
safely?"
"None of these beings," said Jasam, speaking weakly, but answering for him,
"will exterminate anything or anyone, except possibly disease germs. How did
they ever fight their way to the top of their evolutionary trees to became their
planets' dominant species?"
Jasam," said Prilicla, "I'm very pleased that you are awake and taking an
interest in the situation, but don't overtire yourself. You ask a question that
will take a long time to answer and you
may be unconscious again, either from fatigue or boredom, before I finished
answering it. Let me just say that in our precivilized times none of us,
including my own species, were this well behaved. The medical monitors will
signal any change in your condition, so would you like me to leave you alone for
a while so that Keet and yourself can talk together about your future?"
He felt a sudden burst of fear and sorrow from Keet, and one of lesser intensity
from Jasam. They both knew how close Jasam was to death just as they knew that
he might be giving them the chance to speak to each other for the last time.
Before either of them could respond, the captain's voice sounded in the
repeater.
"Doctor, I have an operational update for you," it said briskly. "We are now
leaving orbit on a descending path which will bring us down close to sea level
about three hundred miles from the island on the side opposite to the position
of the spider vessels. We estimate arrival in just under two hours. The same
high ground that they used to hide their presence from the station will also
conceal our approach. Naydrad and the two servos will be standing by to receive
the casualties. There has been nothing from Danalta or Murchison. Our sensors
report no land, sea, or air activity in the vicinity of the three spider ships,
so hopefully they are sleeping. You must be pretty close to your own limits of
endurance, Doctor, so you might like to do the same."
"Thank you, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "that is good advice which I shall
take at once."
He had folded his wings and was tethering himself loosely to an equipment
support when he felt a subtle change in Keet's emotional radiation. Normally its
feelings, regarding its mate, the druul, and their situation in general, were
sharp and strong. It loved and hated with equal intensity. But now there was a
strange blurring and softening of feeling as it spoke.
"I know that I cannot read another person's emotions as well as you can," it
said slowly, "but from your words and actions here and on our searchsuit, I
think—no, I believe—that you feel a deep concern for Jasam's welfare, and mine.
Is this so?"
"Yes," he said, trying to keep himself awake.
"On Trolann this question would be considered an insult,
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it went on, "implying as it would a disgusting mental aberration am* perversion.
But I think... Are you feeling the same depth of concern for the safety of the
druul-like healer Murchison, as you do for Jasam?"
"Yes," said Prilicla again.
CHAPTER 24
The glider pilots carrying their folded aircraft were the first to mount the
boarding ramp, followed by Murchison's bearer party and with the watchful
spiders who carried only weapons bringing up the rear.
The ramp, she saw, was wide, surprisingly long, and formed a gently sloping
bridge over the wavelets and wet sand at the water's edge. It stretched between
the large opening in the ship's bow and the dry area farther up the beach. It
was an incredible idea, but she wondered if the spiders were sailors who didn't
like getting their feet wet.
Inside the ship she was moved along a corridor whose roof was so low that if she
hadn't been lying flat on her back in a hammock, she would have scraped her face
against the rough, fibrous surface of the ceiling. Positioned at deck level
about twenty meters apart were lamps that flickered and, she thought, sniffing
analytically, smelled of some kind of vegetable rather than mineral oil. Each
lamp floated in a large wooden pan of water and there were two larger
containers, one filled with water and the other, sand, placed close by. She
wondered if the spiders were afraid of fire as well as water, then remembered
that in the wooden-sailing-ship days on Earth, fire had been a servant that had
to be kept under tight control.
After what seemed an endless scrolling-down of dark, fi-brous ceilings, her
hammock was lowered to the deck in a com-oartment that was about six meters
square and high enough to allow her to kneel upright if they untied her.
Plainly that was their intention, because three of them lifted and turned her
face-downwards while the fourth opened its mouth and began to do something which
softened and loosened the strands around her body. Then they rolled her over and
over slowly while the fourth spider made delicate, slurping noises as the
continuous strand was sucked back into its body.
When it was finished, the others left the room and it re-mained to wrap one of
her ankles in a band of thick, soft material, which was obviously padding
because around it was tied very tightly the end of another rope. It was thin,
tough, and seemed to be woven from plant fiber rather than originating inside a
spider. The captor's grotesque, insectile head bent over her ankle and it spat
something at the rope which hardened within a few seconds and covered the knot
in a solid, transparent seal. Then it tied the other end, which was long enough
to enable her to move anywhere inside the room and a little way beyond it, to a
structural support by the doorway and sealed it in similar fashion. It turned to
look at her for a moment before pointing with the nearest limb towards a corner
of the room at what looked like two low handrails with a flat wooden lid set
into the floor be-tween them.
The spider moved across to it, raised and pushed aside the lid, and indicated
the square hole beneath it before waving her forward and moving back itself.
The lighting in the room was too subdued to show deep inside the opening, but
even before Murchison heard the regular, gurgling wave action of water at the
bottom she knew what it was—the body-wastes disposal facility. To show that she
understood, but without actually giving a full demonstration, she ; rasped the
rails, one in each hand, and hunkered down for a moment before replacing the
lid. Apparently satisfied, the spider was pointing at the contents of a shelf in
the opposite corner of the compartment.
It held three wooden beakers, two tall and slim and the other one short and
broad, all of them with lids; one small, cuplike receptacle; a small stack of
flat, wooden platters; and a large open bowl that had neatly folded squares of
soft fabric lying beside it. On hands and knees she moved across to them quickly
and lifted down the narrow beakers in turn. She gave them a gentle shake before
removing the lids, sniffed, and decided that they contained water. The thicker
one was filled with round lumps of material that looked and felt like hairy
potatoes.
Murchison straightened onto her knees, turned and waved her hand vigorously at
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the spider, then pointed down at her equipment pouch. She wasn't simply trying
to attract its atten-tion, because it was already watching her closely, just
trying to give it the impression that her next movement would be overt,
innocent, and harmless.
Slowly she unfastened the flap and used one finger and thumb to lift out the
narrow, white cylinder that was her analyzer, which she put in the corner of her
mouth so that she had both hands free to to pour an inch of water into the
drinking beaker. When she touched the sensor tip of the analyzer into it, the
read-out showed many trace elements but no toxicity, so she drank it down. From
the solid-food container she chose a small piece and broke it. The center was
pale green and spongy and gave off a faint odor that reminded her of cinnamon.
She pushed the an-alyzer into it in several places, but none of the readings
showed anything to worry her. She replaced the instrument and took a cautious
nibble.
It wasn't completely nauseating, she thought, but it would require a condition
of near starvation to make it palatable. Mur-chison was reminded of her first
promotion to the Sector General permanent staff, when her mixed-species former
students had thrown a party for her. On a dare she had eaten a piece of Kelgian
warlgan cake. This stuff tasted a little better.
She forced herself to swallow it and say, "Thank you." The spider chittered
briefly in reply and backed to the door-way, where it continued to watch her.
For several minutes Murchison sat on the hammock, which had been left on the
floor, thinking about what she should do next and, more importantly, what her
captors were expecting her to do next. Their technology was primitive, but in
its own way, civilized. Up until now they had shown no deliberate cruelty
towards her, and they possessed a high level of intelligence and flexibility of
mind, which was shown by their curiosity regarding her and their attempt to make
her comfortable. It would be nat-ural in the circumstances for her to
demonstrate a similar degree
of curiosity.
Using her feet with legs bent almost double and with one supporting hand keeping
her from falling onto her back, Mur-chison began to tour the room. One wall was
hung with coils of rope in various thicknesses and another had shelves of wooden
implements, some of which looked like the pictures of marlin spikes she had seen
in the history books. No metal tools, imple-ments, or even support brackets were
visible. Everything, even the deck, walls, and ceiling, seemed to be made of
hard, dark green, tightlywoven plant fiber except for the regular lines of thin,
pale grey that seemed to run through and reinforce all of them. She was pretty
sure where the grey material had come from because she had seen a few strands of
it binding the crossbows together, and as a supporting latticework on the wings
and fu-selage of their gliders. With a tiny shiver of wonder Murchison tried to
comprehend a species whose advanced technology, its homes, sailing ships, and
aircraft, and who knew what else, was in part woven out of their own bodies.
The third wall was bare, except at the two top corners where there was a large
wooden ratchet arrangement that enabled it to be tipped outwards from the
vertical and away from the edge of
the ceiling. Between them there was a six-inch gap through which fresh air, cold
now that the sun had set, was blowing. Plainly this was the room's ventilation
system. She moved to the fourth wall that contained the door—with her spider
guard filling it—the lamp, and the fire-prevention arrangements. Intending to
ex-amine the workings of the lamp closely with a view to adjusting the setting
of its floating wick to give more light, she reached fonwards.
Her fingers were more than a foot away from it when she cried out in pain and
surprise as a sticklike forward limb cracked down across the back of her hand.
"Why the blazes did you do that?" she cried, pressing the hand between her other
arm and side to deaden the pain.
The spider unlimbered its crossbow and sent a bolt thud-ding into the floor in
front of the lamp, then it moved into the room, and with great difficulty
loosened and pulled the crossbow bolt from the floor and replaced it in its
quiver before returning to the doorway.
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She had the answer to her question. Clearly the message was, Hands off the lamp.
Up until then the spider had not deliberately tried to hurt her and might not do
so again unless, as now, she tried to break their rules. She wondered how she
would have felt if their posi-tions had been reversed. In this society a
moment's carelessness with a naked flame might well cause irreparable property
damage in addition to personal injury.
Losing, for example, what was to them a complex, state-of-the-art aircraft would
be devastating for the pilot, who had prob-ably woven important parts of its
support structure from its own body material. But the destruction of a
large-scale, cooperative enterprise like this ship, which must be a continuous,
floating fire hazard, would be a community disaster. Henceforth she would obey
the rules and avoid having her wrist slapped, or, better still, try to
communicate with and understand her captors so that such acts of minor physical
chastisement would no longer be necessary.
The time to begin talking was now, but both her brain and her body were too
tired to begin the long, complicated and no doubt initially frustrating process
of sign language and word sounds that would be needed. She could, however, make
a small
start.
She moved back to the wall with the ventilator slit in it, pointed to the
opening, and blew her breath out noisily for a few seconds, shivered
elaborately, and returned to the floor area cov-ered by the hammock. There she
lay down lengthwise on her side along one half of it, and pulled the surplus
material across her legs and body and tucking it under her chin. It was
coarse-textured but warm. With the back of one hand—which was no longer
hurting—supporting the side of her face, she looked along the deck at the
now-horizontal picture of her guard.
"Good night," she said quietly.
The spider made a low, chittering sound.
She had no idea of how much if anything of the recent pantomiming it had
understood, but Murchison hoped that she had conveyed the message that she had
rendered herself volun-tarily immobile and there was no danger of her breaking
any more rules for a while. She lay watching it while it watched her, feeling
the hard surface of the deck through the hammock ma-terial and not expecting to
sleep.
She awakened to find that the lamp was out, the ventilation slit had been opened
wide so that sunlight as well as air was coming through it, and that during the
night another large rectangle of hammock material had been spread over her
sleeping body. She felt stiff and sore, but pleased, because it seemed that the
process of communication had already begun. When she raised herself onto one
elbow and cleared her throat quietly, her spider guard— she was pretty sure that
it was the same one—opened its eyes.
When she had stretched a few times in the limited space available, and rubbed
the stiffness out of her muscles, Murchison lifted the lid of the waste-disposal
opening, stared at the spider for a moment. It backed out of the doorway and
moved sideways out of sight.
It was strange, Murchison thought, that all of the civilized species known to
the Federation had this aversion to eliminat-ing body wastes in public, or to
witnessing the activity in oth-ers. When she had washed and eaten—she was so
hungry that the food tasted horrible but on the plus side of inedible—she
dissolved a small amount of the food in the remains of the washing-water and
with the corner of a cloth daubed two simple sketches on the sunlit wall. Then
she put her head around the side of the doorway and beckoned for the spider to
come back inside.
It was time to start talking.
But her guard had other ideas. It spat accurately onto the knot holding the
other end of her restraining rope, dissolving the seal, then made it into a
tight coil which it grasped in one claw. With the other one it indicated its
crossbow and quiver before it began tugging on the rope.
Politely she was being told to follow it, or else.
In the event, she had no need to worry because it became clear that her guard
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was showing her over the ship while giving the hundred or more crew members a
chance to look her over. They pointed, waved limbs, and chittered excitedly at
her, their body language reflecting intense curiosity. But a quiet, clicking
sound from her escort made them keep their distance. She guessed that her spider
was a superior officer of some kind and that it was showing off a strange and
interesting specimen that it wished to keep as comfortable, if not as happy, as
possible. Murchison could live with that, especially as the technology of the
ship itself was so strange and interesting.
In a first-contact situation, curiosity that was strong enough to overcome
xenophobia in both parties was a very good sign.
The vessel looked even larger inside than out. Its smooth outer shell contained
a structure that was like a complicated three-dimensional maze. She estimated it
to be about eighty me-ters from prow to stern, sixty in the beam, and thirty to
the highest point of its turtlelike upper works which, so far as she co^ld see,
enclosed five or six levels of decking that were stepped back sharply so as to
be covered by a segmented outer shell that could be opened in whatever area and
number was required, to become sails and furnish highly directional wind
propulsion. The overall structural material must have been very light because,
in spite of its top-heavy appearance, the vessel rode very high in the water.
She wasn't surprised to find that the two decks that were on and just above the
water line had no sail openings, ventilation, or natural lighting. The
compartments on those levels were large and filled with coils of rope, netting,
and masses of eel-like crea-tures, some of which were still twitching, that
smelled like fish. She was glad when her escort guided her back towards the
fresh air and sunlight of the upper decks.
But there was a steadily diminishing supply of fresh air, she realized, and no
sunlight at all. She was pushed gently against a bulkhead and signaled to stay
out of the way because it appeared that the entire crew were moving about and
working furiously to wind in all of the sail segments and seal their outer
shell. Just before the section beside her closed to admit only a narrow band of
light, she was able to see the probable cause of all the frantic activity.
The sun had been covered by the dark grey curtain of a rain squall that was
running in from the sea.
On the way back to her compartment Murchison had a lot to think about. This and
the other two vessels she had seen must be part of a fishing fleet that needed
aerial reconnaissance to direct them towards the shoals they trawled. The sails
they used for guidance and propulsion had to double as shelters in the event of
a storm or even a rain shower because, perhaps like cats and Kelgians and
certain other furred species in her experience, it was physiologically dangerous
for them to get wet.
These ships were manned, for want of a better word, by very brave sailors
indeed.
Back in her room the ventilator had been closed to admit a narrow band of light
and none of the heavy rain that was rattling against the hull. The spider
pointed to a formerly empty shelf. During their absence someone, probably acting
on its instruc-tions, had left them a small stack of wide, pale yellow dried
leaves a thin, short-handled brush, and a small wooden container of what looked
like ink.
Considering the spider-hostile weather outside, she thought again, this was a
very good time to begin talking.
CHAPTER 25
Using its power-hungry tractor beams in reverse rather than the noisy thrusters,
Rhabwar had come in low and quiet to transfer Prilicla and the Trolanni
casualties to the station before returning as it had come, to orbit where the
captain would be able to watch the spider ships without them seeing him, or if
they did, they wouldn't know that the new star in their sky was watch-ing them.
"There are three vessels," it reported simultaneously to the med station and the
waiting courier vessel, "but all are stationary with their bows resting on the
beach. Five gliders are flying around them at low altitude, too low for the med
station to spot them. A number of ship's personnel have been moving about on the
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beach and under the nearby trees, but too few, I feel sure, for them to be
mounting an attack. In any case, the personnel con-cerned and the gliders went
back on board their ships about ten minutes ago and just before a rain cloud
blotted out the area.
"Doctor," it added, "have you any medical or other devel-opments that you want
me to relay to Courier Two?"
"None, friend Fletcher," Prilicla replied.
'None?" the other said. "What about your missing pathol-°gist? What's the
shape-changer doing about finding her? With
the increased number of casualties I should think her presence is desirable
right now."
"It is ..." he began, when Naydrad, who had been assisting him with Keet's
treatment, answered for him in its usual tactless disregard for the fact that
the listening patient was wearing a translator.
"It is not desirable, Captain," it broke in; "it is necessary. Physiologically
the Trolanni are an unusually complex life-form. This one will survive but its
mate will almost certainly not, unless Murchison, who is a specialist in
other-species pathology, returns to us soon. We are all concerned for her safety
and the possible loss of her unrivaled expertise."
Unlike the Kelgian, who could not help saying exactly what it was thinking at
any time, the captain tried to be more circum-spect.
"Your medical team is two members short," it said gently, "and Danalta would be
of more use to you there than remaining in the vicinity of the bay. What I'm
trying to say is that Pathol-ogist Murchison may not be returning to you. Isn't
that a strong possibility, Doctor?"
Prilicla felt a tremor shaking his limbs and body, the sig-nificance of which
Naydrad, but not Keet, would understand. He controlled his emotions with
difficulty and stilled his body before he was able to speak.
"It is a possibility, friend Fletcher," he said, "but I hope that it is a remote
one. Danalta lost contact with Pathologist Mur-chison shortly after its capture
and while it was still on the ground rescuing the communicator. The
shape-changer has since been trying to discover the ship to which friend
Murchison was taken and where within that ship it is being held, so far
unsuccessfully-
"I shall not call off this search," he went on, "because I have known
Pathologist Murchison for many years. I know its per-sonality, its warmth,
sympathy, humor, its sensitivity, and in par-ticular the intensity of feeling it
holds for its life-mate, and many other qualities that cannot be put into words.
Of even more irnportance, I know its emotional-radiation signature almost as
well as I know my own.
"The spider ships are at extreme range for my empathic faculty." he concluded,
"and while I cannot honestly say that I sense its presence at any given moment,
if friend Murchi-son was to terminate, I feel sure that I would know of it at
once."
The captain broke contact without speaking.
Murchison began with the approach long-hallowed by tra-dition, even in the days
before mankind had learned how to leave Earth, by drawing pictures of the people
and things she wanted to name. They were small and simple; small for the reason
that she didn't know whether or not the supply of broad leaves was limited, and
simple because the ink ran like water and she had botched the first two attempts
by overloading the brush. She held the leaf horizontally sketch-upwards for the
few seconds it took the ink to dry, then showed it to the spider.
Pointing at herself and the body outline in the sketch, she said, "Human." She
repeated the gestures and the word several times before pointing at the spider
and its outline and deliber-ately said nothing.
The silent questioning seemed to work because one of her captor's clawlike
digits moved down to touch the spider outline. It made a low, clicking and
cheeping noise that sounded like, "Kritkuk."
Ignoring the sketches, Murchison pointed at herself and then the spider, and
repeated, "Human. Kritkuk."
"Hukmaki," it replied; and, more loudly, "Kritickuk."
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The emphasis on the second word, she thought, might be due to irritation at her
not pronouncing it correctly. But it wasn't doing such a hot job of
pronunciation on "human," either. She led a different approach, knowing that it
couldn't understand any of the words yet, but hoping that it would get the
message.
“You are speaking too quickly for me," she said in her nor-
mal speaking tempo, then went on slowly, "Please . . . speak... in ... a ...
slow ... and . .. distinct... voice."
Plainly it had understood the message because this time, while the word didn't
seem to be that much slower, she was able to detect additional syllables in it.
She started to say it but the word choked off into a cough. Taking a deep,
calming breath she tried again.
"Krititkukik," she repeated.
"Krititkukik," it agreed.
Pleased at her first linguistic success, but not wanting to waste time trying to
teach it better Earth-human pronunciation, she knelt down on the folded hammock
and, with a new leaf spread flat on the deck before her, she thought hard and
began sketching again.
Drawing two circles to indicate their different planets in space might be too
confusing at this stage although, being a sailor, her spider would certainly use
the stars for navigation between its world's many islands and might be well
aware of the fact that its surface was round. Instead she drew a straight line
to represent the horizon across the widest part of a new leaf, placed a small
circle with wavy lines radiating from it to indicate that it was the sun and
added the outline of the island. Around and below it she drew small, flat
crescent shapes to denote waves, and on one side of it she drew three flat domes
to depict the spider's ships and not to scale, a glider flying above them. She
pointed to each of the symbols in turn.
"Sky," she said. "Sun. Sea. Island. Ship. Glider."
The spider supplied the equivalent word sounds, and a few of them she was even
able to pronounce without being corrected, but the other began walking around
her in a tight circle as if in agitation or impatience.
Suddenly it reached forward and took the brush from her hand and began slowly
and carefully to add to her sketch. It drew three small, flat rectangles that
had to be the buildings of the medical station on the other side of the island.
It reversed the brush and used the dry end to point several times at the
station.
She wasn't giving away information that the spiders did not already know from
their aerial reconnaissance and they would have been stupid if they did not
already know that she had come from there, so she took another leaf and filled
it with a drawing of the medical-station buildings in greater detail. She showed
the sand below them sloping to the wavy lines of the sea and, on a clear area of
sand, four stylized figures: herself; the cylindrical shape with many short legs
along its base that was Naydrad; a featureless cone that was Danalta when it
wasn't being something else; and Prilicla. In outline the empath looked very
much like Krititkukik except for the two sets of wings and the fact that it was
a little distance above the ground. The spider remained motionless for the few
seconds, either in surprise or because it was waiting for the ink to dry, then
it pointed the brush first at Murchison herself, then used the end of its thin
handle to touch her image in the sketch, followed by those of the others, and
finally the station. It repeated the process, but this time when it touched each
of the four figures it followed by touching the buildings, and ended by tapping
repeatedly at the med station alone. Then it looked at her and made a
chitter-ing, interrogative sound.
It was saying, she felt sure, that it knew all of them had come from the med
station, but where had the med station come from?
One of the most important rules while opening first-contact proceedings with a
less advanced species, was not to display a level of technology that would risk
giving the other party a racial inferiority complex. Looking at this spider
sea-captain, and con-sidering the degree of bravery, resourcefulness, and
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all-around adaptability required for a profession that called for constant
travel over a medium—water—that was an ever-present and probably deadly danger
to them, she did not think that her spider would recognize an inferiority
complex if it was to stand up and bite it in its hairy butt. This time she
fetched the water container before selecting another, unmarked leaf. The horizon
line she placed low down, with the island, three ships, and med station sketched
in less detail. Then she poured a little water into her cupped hand, added a few
drops of ink to darken it, and then filled in the sky with a transparent grey
wash which, she hoped, would indicate that it was a night picture. When it was
dry, instead of a sun she painted in a few large and small dots at irregular
intervals. A sailor was bound to know what they were.
"Stars," she said, pointing at each of the dots in turn.
"Preket," said the spider.
She pointed to one of the domelike ships and carefully pro-nounced the spider
word for it, "Krisit." Then she drew another one of them, this time high in the
night sky, pointed at it, then to herself and at the med station.
"Preket krisit," she said.
The spider's reaction was immediate. It backed away from her and began
chittering loudly and continuously, but whether in surprise, excitement, fear,
or some other emotion, she couldn't say because it was speaking far too fast for
her to understand any of the words even if she had already learned some of them.
It came closer and jabbed a claw at the picture so suddenly that one edge of the
leaf split apart. Again and again it pointed at its three ships and the island,
at the starship and the medical station and then at the starship again. With the
claw it pushed at the starship so violently that the leaf was torn in two.
Plainly the other was trying to tell her that the three ships and the island
belonged to the spiders and that it wanted the strangers to go away. Thinking
about the kind of people they were, armed fisherfolk with the capability for
long-range recon-naissance, it was possible that they preyed on others of their
kind as well as their ocean's fish. The visiting starship, especially if they
thought that it was manned by sea-raiders like themselves, had already
established a base on their island. They would con-siderate it a threat that
must be driven off, captured, or destroyed.
Somehow Murchison had to show them that neither the visiting ship nor the
medical station were a threat and that they were in fact, the opposite. She held
up both her hands, palms outwards, for silence.
When it came, she lifted the brush again and held it close to the other's face,
but this time she didn't use it to sketch. Instead she snapped off a couple of
inches of the handle, at the end opposite the hairs so that it remained usable,
and held them apart for a few seconds. Waiting until it seemed that she had all
of the spider's attention, she brought the broken ends together and spat
delicately on the join before handing both pieces back to the spider.
"Join it," she said slowly. "Fix it. Mend it."
While she was speaking, the other made sounds that seemed to have a questioning
note, but immediately got the idea. Onto the join it spat a very small quantity
of the sticky saliva it had used earlier to seal the knots of her restraining
rope, and when it had hardened, handed the brush back to her. Apart from the
small gob of hardened saliva where the repair had been made, the brush was a
good as new. She began sketching with it again.
This time she didn't bother showing the island, ships, or sun. At the left of
the picture she drew instead a vertical line of four figures to represent
herself, a spider, Naydrad, and Prilicla. Slightly to the right of them she
placed a similar line of figures, except that her figure was divided by a narrow
space at the waist and one of her legs was separated by a short distance from
her body. The figure of the spider showed three limbs detached from its body,
and similar radical dismemberment to the forms of the Kelgian and her Cinrusskin
chief. A little farther to the right she drew a larger picture of the
med-station buildings, followed by another vertical line of figures that were
whole again. To make her meaning even clearer she drew four short arrows linking
the damaged figures to the station, and another four pointing from it to the
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whole figures.
Again she indicated the join in the brush handle and said slowly, "We mend
people."
The spider didn't appear to understand her at all because it pushed the sketch
away before retying the rope around her ankle and sealing the knot. It left
quickly without speaking.
Murchison threw the brush angrily at the discarded sketch. The rain had stopped
and sunlight was shining through the nar-row opening in the ventilation wall.
She moved to it, hoping that more light would lighten her spirits, and wound
down the ratchet until it was fully open.
Noise as well as light was pouring in, but the excited chit-tering of crew
members and the creaking of wooden mechanisms could not drown out the single,
loud clicking voice that was al-most certainly that of the captain using a
speaking trumpet. On the beach outside she could see spiders swarming over the
other ships, opening their sail seals and raising the boarding ramps.
Something important was happening, Murchison thought, something that would
almost certainly involve this armed fishing-fleet opening hostilities against
the medical station. An-grily she returned to sit on the folded hammock, knowing
that her lamentable recent attempt at communication was certainly responsible
for it and that she deserved everything that was going to happen to her.
It was while she was glowering despondently at the empty doorway that she
noticed something amiss. Beside it there had been an unlit lamp with single
containers of water and sand on each side of it, and now there were three
containers there. Feeling greatly relieved but completely undeserving of her
sudden change in fortune, she spoke quietly.
"Stop showing off, Danalta," she said, "which barrel of sand is you?"
CHAPTER 26
Throughout the ship the sound of spider voices and the loud creaking and
rumbling of wooden mechanisms being op-erated reached a climax. The level of
light coming from the cor-ridor increased and with it came a steady flow of warm
air that could only be blowing off the beach as the sail shields were opened
fully and deployed. A moment later the rocking action of the waves intensified
as the ship pulled free of the sand. The fleet had set sail and she knew its
objective.
"They're going to attack the med station," said Murchison urgently above the
ship noises. "We have to get back there to warn them___"
"You already have warned them," said Danalta. Its sand-container shape, which
had grown an eye, ear, and mouth, moved sideways to reveal her communicator
lying on the floor with its TRANSMIT and RECORD lights blinking. "I was here
during your conversation with the spider, and Captain Fletcher, with the help of
Dr. Prilicla, who uses a similar form of language, says that it has almost
enough to program a translator for spider talk when we get back. Prilicla needs
you there, it needs all of the med team, as quickly as possible. One of the
Trolanni casualties is giving cause for serious concern."
She picked up the active communicator and clipped it to
her equipment belt. Apologetically she said, "For a while I forgot what I do for
a living. I must report to Prilicla at once."
"It will waste less time," said Danalta firmly, "if you report to it in person.
Pathologist Murchison, we must return to the station, now."
Rarely had words been spoken with which she was in more complete agreement,
Murchison thought fervently as she looked around her low, cramped, and highly
uncomfortable prison, but returning to the station was not going to be easy,
especially for her. She pointed at the ventilator opening.
"Those ships are moving fast," she said, "and we're already two hundred meters
from the beach. Even if we left now, by the time I swam ashore and ran all the
way back, we might not get there until after the fleet arrived."
The sand container slumped into a more organic shape and rolled up to her feet,
growing a rudimentary jaw with very sharp teeth as it came.
"With my assistance we will both go by sea," said Danalta as it bit through the
rope securing her ankle. "Will I enlarge the ventilator opening for you?"
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"No," she replied sharply. "It will open widely enough to let me out. We don't
want to damage their ship unnecessarily. I was trying to make friends with
them."
"Then jump," said Danalta.
Instead of jumping she made a long, shallow dive that took her about twenty
meters from the ship's side before she had to surface. She heard the splash of
Danalta's less graceful entry into the water, the excited chittering of spiders
as more and more of them spotted her, followed by the hissing plop of crossbow
bolts striking the water all around her. She took a deep breath and dived again,
then wondered if a few feet of water would make any difference to the
penetration power of the crossbow bolts when she could swim faster and maybe be
more difficult to hit on the surface. But the next time she came up for breath
and looked back, she was in time to hear the spider with the speaking
trumpet call out a few loud, sharp syllables after which the shoot-ing stopped.
Relieved and grateful, she continued swimming. Then she wondered if her spider
captain didn't want to hurt her, or if it believed that it would recapture her
with the others at the station and simply wanted to save ammunition. A green,
sharklike shape with a long, corrugated horn growing from the top of its head
broke the surface beside her before she could make up her mind.
"Grasp the dorsal horn firmly in both hands," said Danalta, "and hold on tight."
She was glad of the extra grip afforded by the corrugations as the shape-changer
picked up speed and its wide, triangular tail whipped rapidly from side to side,
thrusting it faster and faster through the water. It was exhilarating and
uncomfortable and a little like water-skiing without the skis. Danalta was
cutting through rather than over the steep, breaking waves in the bay so that
she had to twist her body and her head backwards every time she needed to
breathe, but doing so showed that the distance between them and the pursuing
ships was opening up. Laughing, she wondered what her spider captain would think
about her moving so fast through the water that she was leaving a wake.
But she was beginning to feel very cold, and Danalta was moving even faster and
the water was slapping and tugging and bursting in clouds of spray over her
head, arms, and shoulders. In spite of the warm, morning sunshine reflecting off
the waves and spray, her body temperature was dropping rapidly and the hands
holding her to Danalta were losing feeling. She realized suddenly that while her
equipment belt had stayed firmly in Place, the swimsuit hadn't.
The spider ships were disappearing behind the curve of the coastline, and the
wreck of Terragar and the medical station were corning into sight. Within a few
minutes they were in the shallows m front of the buildings and the shape-changer
was already turn-ing its fins into legs.
Murchison stamped about on the sand and swung her arms briefly to return some
heat to her body, then, still shivering, she sprinted for the largest prefab
structure that housed the recovery ward. It was occupied by Naydrad and the
three Earth-human casualties. With her teeth chattering, she said, "Charge
Nurse, please throw me a set of my whites and ..."
"You look fine the way you are, ma'am." said one of the Terragar officers,
smiling broadly.
"The way I am," she said, beginning to pull on the tight, white coveralls, "is
bad for your blood pressure. Naydrad, where's Prilicla?"
"In the comm room," said the Kelgian.
A faint tremor of pleasure and relief shook Prilicla as the pa-thologist joined
him before the communicator screen where the face of the captain was staring out
at them. He said, "Friend Murchison, I'm glad to have you back with us, and I
feel that you are well but worried. Ease your mind. Friend Fletcher and Rhabwar
will be with us several minutes before the spider fleet arrives, so that we are
in no immediate danger from them."
"But, Doctor," said Murchison grimly, "they are in danger, deadly danger, from
us."
"No, ma'am," the captain joined in. "I've never held with the adage that attack
is the best form of defense. We will keep them away from the medical station
until you people are ready to transfer to Rhabwar. Minimum force, if any, will
be used."
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Prilicla could feel the growing concern and impatience be-hind the words as
Murchison went on. "Please listen, Captain. Unknown to me at the time, Danalta
was making a record of my attempt at communication, but it didn't include the
other things I saw the spiders do earlier, the way they have to live with and
use their technology, or their behavior towards me and the, well, consideration
one of them showed. They are intelligent, brave, and resourceful people, but
terribly vulnerable."
"I understand," said the captain. "We'll try not to hurt them, but we do have to
defend the station, remember?"
"You don't understand!" said Murchison. "The spiders use technology that is
partially organic, something we've never met before. All of their fabricated
structures large and small, their ships, gliders, tools, and, presumably, their
living accommoda-tions, are partly woven of web strands from their own bodies. I
don't know how much they value this material, or how difficult or easy it would
be to replace, but damaging anything they've made might mean damaging them, or a
least a valuable piece of their personal property. You're on very sensitive
ground here, Captain."
Before the other could reply, it went on quickly, "They use fire, but so far as
I could see, only for heavily protected lighting, and they seem to be so afraid
of it that their bodies as well as their structures must be highly flammable.
And in spite of being sailors, they also have an intense aversion to contact
with water. Their ships are designed so that the sails can be reconfigured to
enclose the entire upperworks so as to shelter them from rain and spray.
"I'm sorry, Captain," it went on, and Prilicla could feel the apology backing up
its words, "for adding these complications to whatever defensive strategy you've
worked out. But if we are ever to establish friendly relations with these
people, which from personal contact I consider to be a strong probability, you
must not use any weapons against them that will generate heat. I'm thinking of
signal flares, normally non-harmful pyrotechnics, or any form of radiant energy
that would cause an electrical dis-charge. As well, you must not allow any of
their sea or airborne Personnel to fall in the water."
The captain was silent for a moment and, thankfully, still well beyond
Prilicla's empathic range. When it spoke, its features and voice were calm and
reflected none of what it must have been feeling.
"Thank you for the additional information, Pathologist Murchison," it said,
glancing aside at another screen. "We should be closing with the spider fleet
approximately one hundred and fifty meters off your beach in seventeen minutes.
In that time I shall try to modify my defensive strategy accordingly. However,
you will understand that operationally I do not do my best work with both hands
tied behind my back. Off."
Murchison shook its head at the blank screen and moved to the room's big
direct-vision panel. Prilicla followed to hover above its shoulder as they
watched the three spider vessels that had rounded the curve of the island and
were beginning to fore-shorten as they turned in to approach the station. All
six of their gliders had been launched and were making slow, tight circles in
the sky above them. Distance had reduced the chittering of their crews to a low,
insect buzzing. The pathologist's emotional ra-diation, he noted with approval,
reflected wariness, concern, growing excitement, but no fear.
"Friend Murchison," he said gently, indicating the big di-agnostic screen on the
other side of the room, "this is a good opportunity for us to review the latest
clinical material on the two Trolanni. Patient Keet's condition was not
life-threatening and its treatment is progressing satisfactorily, but not so
Patient Jasam's."
The pathologist dipped its head in affirmation and moved to the screen which was
already displaying enlargements of the two patients' scanner images. For several
minutes it studied them, magnifying and changing the viewpoint several times,
while in the direct-vision panel the spider ships drew closer. But unlike
Prilicla, it had no attention to spare for them.
Finally it said, "Danalta told me there was a problem with Patient Jasam, and it
was right. But Patient Keet's condition, while not giving cause for immediate
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concern, is not good. There is a general impairment of blood flow, and organic
degeneration in several areas that is not, I think, due to any recent trauma,
and the indications would support a diagnosis of sterility caused by a long-term
dietary deficiency. But Patient Jasam is in serious trouble. I advocate
immediate surgical intervention. Would you agree, sir?"
"Fully, friend Murchison," he replied, gesturing towards the screen. "But there
are three main areas of trauma, deep puncture-wounding whose effect on nearby
organs is unknown. We should go in at once, certainly, but how, where and in
what order? This is an entirely new life-form to my experience."
The Earth-human's feelings were predominantly those of concern, apology, and,
strangely, an underlying but slowly grow-ing feeling of certainty.
"There is nothing entirely new," it said, "under this or any other sun. Our
Trolanni friend's CHLI physiology has a similarity very slight I must admit—in
its lack of supporting skeletal structure and the fine network of blood vessels
and nerve linkages supplying the peripheral limbs and visual and aural sensors,
to those found in the Kelgian DBLF classification. There are also similarities
in its two fast-beating hearts to those of the light-gravity, LSVO and MSVK
life-forms. The digestive system is very strange, but the waste-elimination
process could belong to a scaled-down Melfan. If you believe the risk to be
acceptable, I think I know what is going on, or what should be going on in
there, but..."
It held up its hands with the fingers loosely spread.
"... But I can't do it with clumsy digits like these," it went on. "It would
need much more sensitive hands, yours, and the small, specialized members that
the shape-changer can grow to get into and support the awkward corners. You and
Danalta would perform the surgery. I could only assist and advise."
"Thank you, friend Murchison," said Prilicla, wishing that the other could feel
its gratitude and relief. "We will prepare at once."
"Before we open Jasam up .. ." it began, and broke off be-cause all around them
the loose equipment in the room was vibrating to the increasing subsonic growl
that indicated Rhabwar
was making its low-level approach. Irritably, and without even looking at the
ships closing on the beach, it raised its voice.
"I would like to make a closer, hands-on examination of both patients," it went
on, "for purposes of comparison and to obtain physical confirmation of the
scanner findings."
"Of course," said Prilicla. "But first give me a few minutes so that Naydrad can
render them unconscious."
"But why?" it asked. "We're very short of time."
"I'm sorry, friend Murchison," he replied, "but unlike the Terragar officers,
the Trolanni would take no pleasure in the sight of your body."
CHAPTER 27
From the deeply upholstered comfort of his control couch, which felt about as
soft as a wooden plank due to the body tension required to make him appear
relaxed to his subordinates, Captain Fletcher watched the image of the ships and
aircraft of the spider landing force as it expanded in his forward vision
screen.
Rhabwar was not a large vessel by Monitor Corps standards, but it was a little
longer and its delta wing configuration gave it more width than the big,
flattened, turtlelike ships of the oppo-sition. The approach he had originally
planned would certainly have caused maximum non-offensive confusion, if not
utter havoc and demoralization, to the opposition. But he had remem-bered the
words of Pathologist Murchison as she had been telling him how he should do his
job.
His idea had been to go in low and fast and drag a sonic Shockwave along the
length of the beach. He didn't think that the ships would suffer or—except
psychologically—their crews, but the thought of what the air turbulence created
by a supersonic fly-past would do to those ridiculously flimsy gliders made it a
bad idea. It wouldn't be like shooting ducks, he thought, but more like blasting
butterflies out of the sky.
"Decelerate," he said, "and bring us to a halt one hundred meters above the
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beach midway between the station and the water-line. Deploy three tractor beams
in pressor mode at equal strength in stilt configuration and hold us there."
"Sir," said Haslam, "the slower approach is going to give them time to begin
landing their people on the beach."
The captain didn't reply because he could see everything that was happening as
well as the lieutenant could and had ar-rived at the same conclusion.
"Dodds," he said. "The opposition's ships are highly flam-mable. When we're in
position, swing around so that our tail flare will be directed inland. Then put
out one forward tractor to discourage the spider advance. Focus it to about ten
meters' surface diameter and change the point of focus erratically for maximum
turbulence as you play it back and forth along the beach across their path. The
idea is to create a localized sand-storm down there."
"Understood, sir," said Dodds.
"Power room," he went on briskly. "We'll be supporting the ship's mass on
pressor beams with no assist from the thrusters for a while. How long can you
give us? A rough estimate will do."
"A moment, please," said the engineering officer; then, "Ap-proximately
seventy-three minutes on full power drain, reducing by one-point-three percent
per minute until exhaustion and an enforced grounding seventeen-point-three
minutes later."
"Thank you, Chen." said Fletcher, smiling to himself. The power-room lieutenant
was a man who disliked giving rough approximations. "I'm putting this operation
on your repeater screen. Enjoy the, ah, battle."
The misty-blue light given off by their three immaterial stilts as well as that
of the forward tractor beam would be difficult for the spiders to see in the
bright sunlight, so it would seem that the ship drifting to a stop above them
was virtually weightless, or at least very lightly built like one of their own
flying machines.
"A suggestion, sir," said Chen suddenly. "If your intention
is to make a blatant demonstration of power that will discourage, and probably
scare hell out of the enemy without inflicting actual physical injury, this is
the way to do it___"
"The spiders aren't our enemy, Lieutenant," said Fletcher dryly, "they just act
that way. But go on."
"But if they don't discourage easily," the other continued, "we could be faced
with a siege situation so that balancing our-selves up here on power-hungry
stilts would be a short-term activity as well as running down our power
reserves. My sugges-tion is that we land and modify the meteorite shield to
provide hemispherical protection widely enough to cover the station and
ourselves. That way we can maintain the shield for a much longer period. Once
we've made the point, which we have, that we are large, dangerous, and, if
necessary, can float motionless in the air, there's no reason to continue doing
so. With respect, sir, I think we should land sooner rather than later."
Exactly the same thoughts had been going through Fletcher's mind, but saying so
to Lieutenant Chen would have made the captain sound petty-minded in the
extreme. But a de-velopment that the other had not foreseen, at least not yet,
was that if a spider aircraft should fly into one of the pressor beams
supporting Rhabwar's weight, it and its pilot would be smashed flat into the
ground.
"Thank you, Chen," he said instead. "Your suggestion is approved. Haslam, take
us down. Dodds, kill the pressors but maintain the forward tractor to keep that
sandstorm going. Chen, how soon will the meteorite-shield modification be
ready?"
"It's difficult to be precise," said Chen. "Fairly soon."
"Try to make it sooner than that," he said.
The gliders had sheared off at Rhabwar's approach but now they were circling
back again, possibly thinking that the grounding of the ship was a sign of
weakness. All three of the spider vessels had run their prows up onto the beach
and the nearest one had its landing-ramp lowered. The first few spiders were
already crawling ashore with crossbows held at the ready. Dodds
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took a moment to check the focus of his tractor beam. The land-ing party now
numbered close on twenty, with more of them coming down the ramps at intervals
of a few seconds.
Directly in front of them a carpet of sand twenty meters in diameter and about
three inches deep rose high into the air and exploded into a cloud as the
tractor's point of focus was vibrated erratically in and out. A thick curtain of
fine, powdery sand dropped in front of and a little on top of the spiders.
For a moment they milled about uncertainly. Then Fletcher saw a spider with a
large speaking trumpet climb onto the su-perstructure of it ship to chitter
loudly at them. At once they split into two groups that crawled rapidly along
the beach in opposite directions. The sandstorm, its effect only slightly
diminished by the fact that the line of targets was lengthening, followed them.
The other two ships were also disgorging spiders while the gliders were flying
in tight circles above Rhabwar and the station, although fortunately not low
enough for them to hit the mete-orite shield when it came on.
"Sir," said Dodds worriedly, "the sand doesn't appear to bother them very much,
especially now that all three landing parties are strung out along the beach. It
looks as though they are trying move out of sight and circle round behind us.
Shall I increase the power and area of focus, sir, to stir up more sand, or
maybe try to box them in by—"
"Deploying another tractor would help," Haslam broke in. "I'm not doing anything
else at the moment."
"—By pulling in some water instead of sand," Dodds con-tinued, "and splashing it
down in their path? That might stop them spreading out sideways. They'd be
caught between the sea and a wet place."
Pleased with the lieutenant because this was an idea Fletcher had not already
thought of himself, he said, "We're told that water has a very bad effect on
them and we are, after all, trying to be friendly. Try it, but be very careful
not to dowse them."
A few minutes later Dodds said jubilantly, "They certainly
.
are afraid of the water; they've stopped in their tracks. But now they're
pushing inland again."
"Haslam," said the captain, "man another tractor beam unit—Dodds will give you
the settings—and help him out. While he concentrates on the two farther parties,
you take the nearest one. Keep moving up and down the line of spiders trying to
advance on the station. Leave the waterplashing, if necessary, to Dodds. You
shower them with sand only. Try to spoil their ability to see where they're
going, and generally make them feel uncom-fortable, but don't hurt them."
"Yes, sir," said Haslam.
More and more spiders were crawling down their ships' landing ramps, but not
spreading out because of the threat from the containing splashes of water. If
the positions were reversed, Fletcher thought, he would have been wondering why
they were not being constantly drenched by water instead of dusted with harmless
sand, but then, their minds might not share the same rules of logic.
Suddenly they were changing tactics.
"Look at this, sir," Dodds said urgently. "They're beginning to weave from side
to side, then darting into the falling sand. And when I'm dealing with one flank
the other one pushes for-ward and gains a meter or so of ground. I have to keep
changing the point of focus, narrowing it or moving the tractor beam back to
keep from hitting them. Chen, we're going to need that me-teorite shield, like
now."
"The same thing is happening here," Haslam said. "We'd need to drop a ton of
sand on this lot to discourage them. They take turns at running in, zig-zagging
at random, and . .. Hell, I hit one of them!"
It must have been the briefest of touches on one side of the spider's body, but
the tractor beam lifted it two meters into the sand-filled air and flipped it
onto it back. It lay with its six limbs waving. Haslam withdrew his beam without
being told as a few of the others gathered round their injured companion to lift
it back onto its feet. Through the air which was now free of sand, Fletcher had
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a clear view of the spiders further up and down the beach beginning to move
purposefully towards the station again. Then high on the superstructure of the
middle ship of the three, the spider with the speaking trumpet began chittering
loudly at them. The advance hesitated and slowed to a dead stop. Within a few
seconds all three spider landing parties had turned around and were hurrying
back to their ships, the injured one being half carried by two of its
companions. The gliders were already com-ing in to land close to their boarding
ramps.
"I'm sorry about hitting that one, sir," said Haslam, "and I don't think it was
badly hurt. But it looks as though we've taught them a lesson because they've
decided to pull out."
"Don't bet on that, Lieutenant," said Fletcher dryly. He was raising his hand to
point at the scene in the forward viewscreen when the communicator chimed and
its screen lit with the image of Dr. Prilicla.
"Friend Fletcher," said the Cinrusskin. "The traces of emo-tional radiation
emanating from your crew have been character-istic of excitement, tension and
concern, all of which feelings have suddenly diminished in strength. A long and
tricky surgical pro-cedure is about to be attempted—once, that is, we solve an
as-sociated non-medical problem. Can you tell me whether or not we can proceed
without outside emotional interruptions or dis-tractions?"
"Doctor," Fletcher said, laughing softly, "you will be free of distractions for
the rest of the day. Judging by the look of that sky there is a heavy rainstorm,
not just a squall, moving in. The spiders are returning to their ships as we
speak."
They watched the dark grey clouds on the horizon expand-ing to fill the sky and
the paler curtain of heavy rain rushing closer. The spiders and their aircraft
were safely on board and the sail shields of the three ships were closed tight
before the deluge arrived, but they could hear it rattling and bouncing off
the flattened dome-like hulls which, he realized suddenly, looked very much like
umbrellas.
"This must be the first time," Haslam said, "that a battle was called off
because of rain."
.
CHAPTER 28
The patient had been prepped for surgery, the operating team of Danalta,
Naydrad, and himself had been standing by the table for more than twenty
minutes, and friend Murchison was still trying to solve Prilicla's associated
non-medical problem. It was trying with such intensity to be patient and
reasonable that its emotional radiation was making him tremble.
"Keet," it was saying, "your life-mate Jasam is unconscious and will not feel
pain, either during or while recovering from this procedure. You, however, are
feeling the non-material pains of concern, uncertainty, and the continuing
emotional trauma over what you think will be the loss of a loved one. To be
brutally honest, we may lose Jasam, but we would have a better chance of saving
it if you would cooperate by moving out of visual range. Untutored as you are in
medical matters, not seeing every inci-sion, resection, and repair as they take
place would be easier on you, too. Besides, would Jasam want you to suffer
needlessly like this?"
Keet lay watching the towel-draped form of its life-mate from its litter, which
it had insisted be moved into the operating room. It made no reply.
"In all my nursing experience," said Naydrad, its fur ruffling in disapproval,
"never has the next of kin, or any other nonmedically-oriented relative, been
allowed to witness a procedure of this complexity. On all the civilized worlds I
know of, it is just not done. If this is the custom on Trolann, I think it is a
mis-guided, unnecessarily painful, completely wrong, and barbaric custom."
Prilicla was about to apologize for Naydrad's forthright speech, but stopped
himself because the reasons for the Kelgian species' lack of tact had already
been explained to it, but Keet didn't give him a chance to talk.
"It is not the custom on Trolann," it said, radiating anger at the insult. "But
neither is it the custom to have a druul present in our operating theaters
working on us. Ever."
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He could feel the pathologist beginning to lose its temper, but not completely,
because the words it used were intended to • achieve a precisely calculated
effect.
Murchison said calmly, "The experiences you shared on your ship, your searchsuit
as you call it, when Jasam was badly injured and you were unable to leave your
control pod to help or comfort or even to be physically close to it, has made a
deep impression on your mind. You don't want to be separated from
Jasam—especially, as now, when you think that there is the dan-ger of never
seeing it alive again. I can understand and sympa-thize with that feeling.
"Perhaps this natural concern for your life-mate," it went on, "has temporarily
clouded your intellect and memory, so I shall explain to you once again, that I,
no matter how large or small my physical resemblance to one of them, am not a
druul. Because of my greater knowledge in some areas I am here simply to advise
on problems which may arise during this procedure. I shall not be working on
Jasam directly or touching its body at any time. If you insist on being present
during this operation, you have my permission to stay. However, seeing your
life-mate under the knife will be distressing and psychologically damaging for
you, so I suggest that you watch me closely rather than Jasam, just in case I
should feel suddenly hungry and want to eat it."
"And they tell me Kelgians are without tact," said Danalta.
"Whatever that is," said Naydrad, its fur spiking in shock. "But the words were
inappropriate."
Prilicla knew that Murchison was deliberately using shock tactics, and felt from
Keet's emotional radiation that they were beginning to work.
"From your observation of Prilicla's work on your ship," the pathologist went
on, "you know that it is capable of the most delicate and precise healing. You
also know that it is hypersen-sitive to the emotions of those around it, and you
must already have realized that your intense feelings of fear, concern, and
other emotions can adversely affect its ability to perform the high level of
surgery that is required here. For that reason you must at all times keep a
tight control of your feelings, natural though they are, so as to avoid
distracting Prilicla. Do you understand and agree?"
The Trolanni did not reply, but Prilicla could feel the in-tensity of Keet's
emotional radiation begin to subside as it fought, successfully, to control its
feelings and impose a measure of calm on itself. There was no need for it to
speak to this frightful, druul-like creature because there was understanding and
agreement and, he noted with pleasure, a feeling of apology.
"Thank you, friend Murchison," Prilicla said. "We will begin...."
The high concentration of light around the patient, Prilicla thought, during the
few times he glanced up to rest his eyes, when contrasted with the grey overcast
outside the direct-vision panel, made it seem almost as if night had fallen, and
the final time he looked up, the panel was black and it had. At intervals the
quiet voice of the captain had been reporting no visible activity from the
spider ships, and with the fall of darkness the infrared sensors were confirming
its theory that the spiders were not nocturnal creatures.
"Or at least," Naydrad added, much too loudly for the cap-
tain to miss hearing, "they don't go out on rainy nights. Dr. Prilicla, I think
you are in need of sleep."
"And I feel sure that you are, Doctor," said Murchison. "The patient's condition
is still critical, but stable enough for us to seal off the lower thoracic area
and suspend operations for a few hours. After all, the damage to the lungs where
the deep air lines were jerked out by the onboard explosion has been repaired,
and it is breathing pure oxygen with no mechanical assistance, as well as being
fed intravenously. Repairs to the lesions caused by the traumatic withdrawal of
the external feeding and waste-extraction systems can surely wait a little
longer for attention?"
"You are probably right, friend Murchison," Prilicla replied, using the form of
words that was the closest he could come to telling anyone they were wrong. "But
there are still small traces of toxic material adhering to the ruptured bowel
walls, and I would like to remedy that before any cessation. Friend Naydrad,
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stand by and apply suction where I indicate. Friend Danalta, be ready to follow
me in and support the area under the first lesion while I am suturing. Friend
Murchison, ease your mind. I prom-ise not to fall asleep on the patient for at
least an hour. Now, let us resume."
Naydrad's equipment made a low, derisive sound and its fur rippled in concern as
it said, "This is the strangest stomach-and-bowel arrangement I've ever
encountered. Dr. Prilicla, in color-ation and structure, it resembles spaghetti,
that Earth-human food you like to eat. Is it strange to you, Pathologist?"
"In the light of my earlier and non-serious remark about eating," said Murchison
sharply, radiating disapproval, "it is un-seemly to mention food in the presence
of the next of kin. And no, the Dwerlans use a similar gastrointestinal tract,
although, I admit, not two of them working in tandem. There is nothing new in
multispecies medicine, just new combinations of the old. But this one is
particularly complex."
Keet moved restively on its litter and said, "I don't seriously believe that any
of you would want to eat the offal of my life-mate. Even a druul would think
twice about doing that. But I can't see what is happening. Murchison, you're
blocking my view."
"That was and remains my intention," said Murchison. "It is kinder to tell you
what is happening after it has happened."
With Naydrad keeping the operative field clear of unwanted fluid, and Danalta
extruding the fine digits that could insinuate themselves into the awkward
crevices where no inflexible surgical instrument could go so as to hold open the
site of the damage, Prilicla was able to see his way to perform the extremely
delicate work of repair that was necessary, As the procedure continued, Keet
radiated intense but—uncharacteristically for it—silent concern. Murchison was
watchful but it did not have to speak at all, because the organic territory they
were occupying was be-coming increasingly familiar to them. But nearly half an
hour later, it did speak.
"Keet," Murchison said, radiating an increasing level of pleasure and relief
that the Trolanni could not feel, "this is going well."
"Thank you, Murchison," said Keet.
"You're welcome," said the pathologist. "But please remain quiet so as to avoid
distracting the team. There is more to do."
Feeling happier than it had been since the start of the op-eration, Keet replied
by not saying another word. But Murchison was radiating a growing level of
concern that was being focused on Prilicla himself. Its words came as no
surprise to him.
"You're tired, sir," it said, "and the way your legs are wob-bling shows that
you are badly in need of rest. The remaining work is simple tidying-up and can
be completed by Danalta and Naydrad under my direction. But there is another
complication which requires treatment. It isn't urgent or life-threatening, at
least so far as the life of the patient itself is concerned, and it can wait,
but I suggest we do it while we are in the area so as to avoid having to open up
the patient at a later date."
"Do what, and why?" said Keet suddenly. "I don't want you cutting Jasam without
a very good reason."
Murchison ignored the interruption but in its calm, lectur-ing voice managed to
answer the questions anyway,
"The problem is principally medical and requires only mi-nor surgery," it said,
using its pencil light as a pointer, "involv-ing as it does infusions into the
patient's endocrine system, specifically the small gland in the area—just
there—which is partially atrophied and inactive due to a build-up of toxic
ma-terial that has been assimilated by the body over many years. With the
removal from its toxic home environment and the in-troduction of the indicated
specifics, the chances are that the gland in question can be restimulated to
optimum activity in a very short time, and certainly within the period of the
patient's recuperation."
"What are you talking about?" said Keet.
"... Considering the fact that Trolann's population is dan-gerously close to the
point of extinction," Murchison continued, "it would be advantageous after they
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are transferred to their new world for as many Trolanni couples as possible to
be capable of reproducing their kind. With Patient Jasam's male reproductive
system, the treatment is simple and straightforward with no com-plications
foreseen. With Patient Keet, however, in common with the females of the other
life-forms in my experience, the mech-anism of reproduction and child-bearing is
more complex. It would be better if you undertook that procedure yourself, after
you have slept, of course. Do you agree?"
For a moment Prilicla was unable to speak. A sudden ex-plosion of emotion from
Keet, comprising as it did a mixture of excitement, relief, and pleasure that
verged on the joyous, was sending a slow tremors along his body, wings and
limbs. He was greatly pleased but not surprised at the way his assistant had
handled the situation, and he knew for a fact that Murchison had made a Trolanni
friend for life.
As the gale of pleasurable emotion diminished, he withdrew
from the table, stretched out his wings and limbs and refolded them tightly to
his body before speaking.
"Well done, all of you," he said. "Friend Murchison, both of your suggestions
are approved. Proceed at once with the work on Jasam, and explain to Keet that
her life-mate will be rendered unconscious for a period of continuous sedation
that will assist its healing, and that there will be nothing more constructive
for it to do during that time than to undergo the procedure you suggested."
"Don't worry, all that will be explained to Keet," Murchison broke in. "But now,
sir, will you please go to sleep?"
The figures of Murchison, Danalta, Naydrad, the two Trolanni, and the whole OR
were beginning to fade around him.
Happily he murmured, "I am asleep."
CHAPTER 29
The bad weather continued with unbroken wind and heavy rain for the next six
days, during which there was, as ex-pected, no resumption of the spider attack.
Keet had successfully undergone its minor surgery at Prilicla's hands and was
waiting impatiently for Jasam to be released from its continuing sedation. In
space, Courier One had returned with the latest news from the Federation, which
consisted mainly of ranking Monitor Corps officers and senior administrators
worrying aloud about what Rhabwars people were doing, or more accurately, what
they were doing wrong regarding this unique double first contact situation.
Courier Two was waiting impatiently to take back the latest sit-uation report,
and their excuses.
Captain Fletcher was trying to think of a few good ones, and asking for help.
"I've drafted a report on all this for the courier vessel," it said, radiating a
mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty as a jerky gesture of its hand
indicated the human and Trolanni ca-sualties visible through the transparent
wall of the communica-tions room, "but I wanted to consult with you, Dr.
Prilicla, with all of you, in fact, before sending it off. For reasons you will
understand, and of which I am not very proud, I didn't want the discussion to be
via communicator and be overheard by my officers. If this matter should come to
an enquiry, or even a court martial, I'd prefer them not to know and so spare
them the em-barrassment of having to give evidence against me."
The captain had walked the distance from Rhabwar in the pouring rain to say
these things. Prilicla used his projective em-pathy in an attempt to reassure
the captain, but it wasn't working very well. Naydrad was the first to speak.
"I don't understand your problem, Captain," it said with a puzzled ruffle of
fur. "With Kelgians this situation would not arise. We would either recount the
facts accurately or, if we didn't want to disclose the information, not speak at
all. Earth-humans!"
"Unlike the charge nurse whose species doesn't know how to lie," Danalta joined
in, "I have a capability for verbal misdi-rection, diplomacy, politeness or
therapeutic lying. But it is usu-ally less complicated in the long run to tell
the truth."
The captain radiated worry and impatience. It said, "But the truth is
complicated, almost certainly too complicated for our superiors to believe.
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Courier One took back the news of the Trolanni first contact, which in the
interim has gone fairly well, but the continued success of which may depend on
whether or not they both survive the second contact with another intelligent
spe-cies which includes Pathologist Murchison's capture by pi-rates ..."
"That had a happy ending," Murchison broke in, glancing out at the three
rain-shrouded vessels drawn up along the beach, and added, "so far."
"... As a result of which," it continued, "the planet's indig-enous species has
virtually declared war on us. This is no way to conduct a first contact
operation, and our temporal lords and masters will be gravely displeased with
us, or with me, at least. Courier One's captain said that there was serious talk
about send-ing one of the dedicated first contact ships, probably Descartes, to
take over our contact with the second species while advising us on how to
conduct the first. He also said that unique-science
investigation teams, which would, of course, take all the necessary precautions,
were being assembled to unravel the Trolanni searchsuit technology and would be
held back until an assess-ment could be made regarding the possibly harmful
psycholog-ical effects of so much advanced space hardware appearing around the
spiders' planet. But when Courier Two takes back my latest report, including the
news that—despite the fact that the spiders are nowhere near achieving space
flight, they might not be given a terminal inferiority complex by seeing a few
unex-plained lights in their sky—within a week near-space is likely to be filled
with Monitor Corps ships."
The captain stopped and breathed heavily. That was due, Prilicla thought, to the
fact that it had been exhaling air at a controlled rate while speaking for
several minutes without in-haling. For Prilicla's sake it was trying to control
its emotional radiation, which was anything but pleasant.
"Friend Fletcher," he said gently, "our areas of authority in this situation are
overlapping, so it follows that the responsibility, or the blame for it going
wrong, is also divided. However, it began as a medical problem with the transfer
of the casualties from Terragar, and later the two injured Trolanni from their
vessel to this station where, in order to protect both sets of patients, I had
to force you into taking military action in their defense. This being so, the
greater proportion of the blame must fall on me ..."
The other's worry tensions were beginning to ease a little, but Prilicla could
also feel an argument coming on. Unlike the Earth-human physiological
classification, he could respirate and speak at the same time so he left no time
for an interruption.
"... My advice would be to tell the truth," he went on, "but omit the incident
of friend Murchison's capture and escape until a later time. Learning about it
now would worry the pathologist's life-mate, and knowing Diagnostician Conway as
I do, it would come out here and ..."
"He certainly would," said Murchison softly.
"... complicate matters," he went on. "While Conway has more than enough rank to
take one of the hospital's vessels out here, my thought is that there will be
enough ships in the area as it is without another worried life-mate joining us.
Keet wor-rying about Jasam produces enough sex-based emotional drama to go on
with. I feel your agreement, friend Murchison.
"As for the rest of the report," he went on, "be complete and factual. No doubt
you will renew your warning regarding the danger of making direct ship-to-ship
contact with the Trolanni searchsuit. But also warn your superiors, politely if
your service career is to progress as it deserves, of the danger of
well-intentioned interference by people who will have much less knowledge and
appreciation of the problem than we have.
"You should also relate in detail your concerns regarding the third and much
more dangerous first-contact operation that is coming up," he went on, "the one
involving the druul. As well as the opposing species being physically separated
and disarmed, which will require military intervention, the Trolanni must be
evacuated as a disaster-relief emergency. At a later time a similar exercise
will be required for the druul as well, who, because of the bad reputation they
have with the Trolanni, must be assessed for possible reeducation as candidates
for membership of the Federation. You could also suggest that the advice of
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patients Jasam and Keet on the Trolann situation would be invaluable, providing
we are let alone to continue treating Jasam's very se-rious injuries and
building up their trust in us."
"But the Trolanni-druul situation isn't the immediate prob-lem . .." began the
captain.
"Of course it isn't," said Prilicla. "But if you give the im-pression that it
is—that you, personally, consider these future problems to be of more importance
and difficulty than our pres-ent one—this should have a reassuring effect on
your superiors. If you express deep concern for and an understanding of their
future problems, they should feel that you are confident about solving this one
and leave us alone to get on with it without interference. As well, if they try
to help with our problem, I'm sure friend Keet will be able to furnish us with
more information on the Trolann situation to worry them. They might decide that
every time they try to help us with our troubles, you dump an even greater
problem in their laps, and desist."
"And what do I tell them about the spider assault on the med station?" asked the
captain. "Just how do I make that sound like a minor problem?"
"You tell the truth," Prilicla replied, "but not all of it. After an initial
period of misunderstanding, tell them that the spider first contact is ongoing."
"Ongoing it is," said the captain, "but from bad to worse. Dr. Prilicla, for
such a timid, inoffensive, and completely friendly entity, you have a nasty,
devious, lying mind."
"Why, thank you, friend Fletcher," he replied, "for listing my most admirable
personality characteristics."
Murchison and Danalta made amused sounds which did not translate while Naydrad
ruffled its fur in puzzlement, but before any of them could speak, the
communicator chimed and its screen lit with the features of Haslam.
"Sir," the lieutenant said briskly, "our weather sensors in-dicate that the
present warm front will clear the island in five hours' time—just before
nightfall, that is—and it will be followed by an extensive high-pressure system
that could remain for the ensuing twelve to fifteen days. As well, there is
another spider fleet of three ships closing on us. Judging by their present
heading and speed, I'd say that they intend to pass south of us before morning
for a landing on the other side of the island. Would you like to return to the
ship?"
The question was, of course, rhetorical because the captain was already halfway
to the entrance.
It came as no surprise that the attack from inland did not develop until the
afternoon of the following day. By then the hot, high sun had dried off the
rain-soaked vegetation, and the moment-to-moment situation as it developed on
Rhabwar's tactical screens was being relayed to the med station's communicator
with a commentary by the captain.
Naydrad was with the Trolanni patients, talking to Keet. Jasam was still deeply
sedated but giving no cause for concern while Danalta was doing tricks with
itself in an attempt to amuse the Terragar casualties who were complaining
because they were missing their daily dunk in the ocean. Only Murchison and
him-self were watching developments, and the pathologist was radi-ating a
strange mixture of dissatisfaction and guilt.
The original three ships beached near them were showing a few ventilation
openings but had not lowered their landing ramps. According to the captain this
was an obvious attempt to lull them into a false sense of security while a
surprise attack was made from the cover of the vegetation inland. The spider
force could not know—because at their level of technology, the very idea of
being able to see at a distance in darkness would not have occurred to them—that
Rhabwar was fully aware of the arrival of the new fleet; or that a vessel that
could detect life signs in space wreckage over thousands of miles' distance
would have no trouble picking up the movements and body heat of beings crawl-ing
under a thin covering of overhanging branches.
"I hate it," said Murchison suddenly, "when I have to watch brave, intelligent,
but undereducated people making fools of themselves like this. Are you feeling
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godlike, Captain Fletcher?"
They heard the captain inhale sharply and Prilicla felt the sudden surge of
anger that was weakened only by distance. But its voice remained calm as it
replied, "Yes, in a way. I see and know everything, and like a god I have to
hide the truth from them for their own good. I'd rather we stopped them before
they hit the meteorite shield. They've already seen us creating sand eddies and
pulling water into their path, and gratuitous displays of superscience can have
a bad effect on an emerging culture. Magic, apparent miracles, events which
contravene natural law as they know it, can give rise to new religious or
drastically change existing ones so that superstition can stultify scientific
and tech-nological progress. These people don't need that."
"Sorry, Captain," said Murchison, "I spoke without think-ing."
The other nodded and went on. "The damage may already have been done. They've
seen our ship fly, and the med-station buildings, and we checked their first
attack by throwing sand at them and threatening to douse them with seawater,
although neither stopped them trying to attack us because it was the rain-storm
that did that. Maybe they think we were responsible for that, too. But allowing
them to run into an invisible wall like the meteorite shield could be too much
for a primitive species to take, brave and resourceful and adaptable though they
are.
"The trouble is," it went on, "that we can't generate clouds of sand under the
trees and neither can we drag water that far without it spilling on the way. We
can use more power on the tractor to uproot trees and throw soil into the air,
but not with enough accuracy to keep some of the spiders from getting squashed.
Pathologist Murchison, didn't you mention earlier that they had a fear of fire
as well as water?"
"I did," Murchison replied, "but I'd rather you didn't use it because I'm not
sure whether the on-board fire precautions I saw were due to the material of
their ships being flammable, or their bodies."
"My idea is to frighten them off without hurting them," said the captain. "Don't
worry, I'll be careful. But I'd like them to come close enough for Dr. Prilicla
to get an emotional reading from them. Specifically, why do they feel so
strongly about us that they are willing to go up against a completely strange
and obviously superior enemy?"
For nearly an hour they watched the enhanced images of the spider force as it
moved slowly nearer, making use of all available cover and spreading out into
line abreast formation as it came. The captain said complimentary things about
the spider commander's tactical know-how as the center of the line held back to
enable the formation to form a crescent that would en-close the station and the
grounded Rhabwar. They had closed to just under one hundred meters before the
captain spoke directly to the station.
"Dr. Prilicla, are they close enough to give you an emotional reading?"
"Yes, friend Fletcher," he replied, "a strong but imprecise one. The strength as
well as the lack of precision is due to the large number of sources sharing the
same feelings. There is un-certainty and apprehension characteristic of fear
that is under control, and a general feeling of antipathy towards the en-emy .
.."
"Blind xenophobic hatred," the captain broke in. "I was afraid of that."
"As I've said, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "It is difficult to be precise,
but my feeling is that they don't hate us so much as what we are doing."
"But we aren't doing anything wrong," the other protested, "at least that we
know about. No matter, we have to stop them before they get any closer. Haslam,
launch the chemical pyro-technics. Spread them in front of their line at
twenty-meter in-tervals. Dodds, use your tractor beam to pull off bunches of
burning vegetation and drop them into any smoke-free gaps. I want our perimeter
protected by a line of fire and smoke. Stand by to deploy the meteorite shield
if that doesn't work."
Distress flares shot from Rhabwar’s launchers made low, fiery arcs in the sky
before landing at the designated intervals among the trees.
"After three days' heavy rain," the captain added for Murchison's benefit, "the
vegetation is still too damp for there to be any danger of us starting a
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conflagration. We will be producing mostly light, steam, and smoke."
The intense blue light and heat of the chemical flares, which had been designed
to be seen across thousands of miles of space,
caused the damp surrounding vegetation to fairly explode into flame. Dodds
picked at the hottest spots with his tractor beam, moving clumps of burning
branches into the intervening areas where the vegetation had been unaffected. A
dense pall of steam and smoke rose into the sky so that the sun became a dark
orange shape that wavered in and out of visibility. A few minutes later they
could see through the dissipating smoke that the secondary fires were dying
down, and those where the flares had landed were not looking too healthy, but
they had done their work.
"A wind off the sea is blowing the smoke inland," said the captain. "The spider
force is withdrawing and heading back to their ships. So far as we can see, no
injuries have been sustained."
"Their emotional radiation confirms," said Prilicla, "but they are badly
frightened and their dislike of us has increased."
"Sir," Lieutenant Haslam reported before the captain could reply, "the ships on
the other side of the island must have seen the smoke. A glider has been
launched. It is slope-soaring over the high ground and heading this way,
obviously to find out what has been happening. I think we won this one."
"We won this battle, Lieutenant," said the captain, "but not the war. If we win
the war that means we lose, because the only way to win this war is to stop it
before anyone gets hurt.
"I'm open to suggestions."
CHAPTER 30
For the remainder of the day, between breaks for meals, checks on the patients,
and a period of rest for himself, they watched the glider overhead because there
was nothing else of interest happening. The spider aircraft was doing some very
interesting things, like signaling to its mother ship on the other side of the
island and the three vessels drawn up along the beach.
A large, circular panel close to one wing-root had opened and begun spinning in
the slipstream about its two diametrically opposed attachment points. One face
of the panel was bright yellow while the other matched the overall
brownish-green color of the glider. The rotating disk was within easy reach of
the pilot who used one of its forelimbs to check the spin at irregular
in-tervals to show either the light or dark face to watchers below and on its
more distant mother ship.
"Ingenious," said the captain admiringly. "It's using the vi-sual equivalent of
Earth's old-time Morse code. The spiders might not have radio but they can
communicate over short to medium distances. The rotating panel would have
minimum ef-fect on the glider's flight characteristics, and any information
being transmitted would be passed slowly, although if necessary the message
could last for as long the glider remained aloft. Judg-ing by the pauses in
signaling, which last for anything up to
fifteen minutes, I'd say that there is a similar device on the mother ship and
they are talking about us."
"Sir," said Haslam. "It's not heading back to its ship. Why is it still
climbing? I would have expected it to come down to take a closer look at us so
that the pilot would have more to talk about."
The captain exercised the prerogative of a senior officer who did not know the
answer by maintaining a commanding silence.
The litters bearing all of the patients were moved into the afternoon sunshine
of the beach although, as it had been in the recovery ward, the druul-like
Earth-human casualties and those from the Trolanni searchsuit were separated
from visual contact by portable screens. There were a few spiders moving about
the beach, but they stayed close to their ships and it was plain that another
attack was not imminent. To conserve power the me-teorite shield had not been
deployed so that the patients could benefit from the sea breeze as well as the
sunshine. They, too, lay watching and talking about the slowly ascending glider.
It was still climbing late in the afternoon when the patients were moved indoors
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and when the sun began to sink behind the high ground inland. When dusk fell at
ground level it was still climbing, tiny with distance but clearly visible in
the bright, or-ange light of the sun which for it had not yet gone down. It
began circling widely and performing slow, intricate aer-obatics.
"Doctor," said the captain, "I'm beginning to worry about what our flyboy is
doing up there. Its present altitude is close on five thousand meters and it
must be cold up there. In the cir-cumstances of the recent attack it doesn't
seem appropriate for it to be showing off and selfishly enjoying itself like
this. It's possible that it is performing some form of sunset religious ritual
that the spiders, or maybe only their glider pilots, believe is im-portant, but
I don't think so."
"What do you think, friend Fletcher?" said Prilicla.
"The glider is far too high for its swiveling wing panel to be
readable without a telescope," the captain replied, "and I can't imagine a
species so afraid of fire as are the spiders being able to use it to process
sand into glass and cast lenses. My theory is that the aerobatics are another
form of signaling,"
It paused for a moment as if expecting an objection, then went on, "Of necessity
the vocabulary would have to be restricted because there are only so many ways
that a glider can move in the air, so its report would have to be simplified,
couched in stock phrases that would be much less detailed than the visual Morse,
and yet it is trying to describe happenings unique in its species' experience.
But that high-flying aircraft and its message will be visible over a much
greater distance than the shorter-range but more fluent swiveling wing-panel
arrangement."
"Is there any support for your theory, friend Fletcher?" asked Prilicla, feeling
that he already knew the answer. "Are there any spider vessels within visual
range of this hypothetical signal?"
"I'm afraid so, Doctor," the captain replied. "Our radar isn't too accurate
because their aircraft and ships are made from or-ganic rather than metallic,
reflective material. But it showed a fleet of six vessels, five of which changed
course towards us within half an hour of the glider rising above their horizon.
The other vessel headed in the opposite direction towards another fleet that is
still too distant for us to resolve the number of units. My guess is that the
sixth ship will launch a high-flying glider at first light tomorrow to relay the
signal.
"Very soon all of the spiders on the surrounding ocean or on the land adjoining
it will know we're here," it added, "and a lot of them will come to do something
about it."
"But what will they do, friend Fletcher?" said Prilicla, the sudden intensity of
his own anxiety overwhelming that of the captain. "We have not committed any
hostile acts towards them, we did nothing wrong, and when they attacked us we
did every-thing possible to avoid hurting them. If they would only stop and
think about what we did and, more importantly, from our ob-
vious position of strength what we did not do, this problem coul be solved by—"
"We did nothing wrong that we know of," the other inte: rupted. "But don't
forget that they're a new species. They me view our inaction as a sign of
weakness or inability to hurt then or maybe they just hate us for being here."
"If we could find a way of talking to them," said Prilicla. " we could just tell
them that we don't want to be here, either, they might help."
Fletcher shook its head. "Pathologist Murchison exchange a few words, nouns,
personal names, or whatever with what sh called her spider captain, but not
enough for the translation corr puter to do anything with them. And even if we
were able to tal to them, that doesn't mean they would believe us.
"I can't help thinking about the bad old xenophobic da) on Earth," it went on,
"and how we would have reacted towarc an apparent invasion from the stars. We
would certainly not ha\> tried to talk, or even to think about talking. We would
have gathered our forces, as these people seem to be doing, and have at the
horrible alien invaders with everything we had."
Prilicla thought for a moment, then said, "The Trolanni began by hating us,
especially you druul-like DBDGs, but the got over their phobia after you
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projected the shortened Federation history lesson into space outside their
searchsuit. Tonight why not do the same? The spider ships are sure to have watch
keepers on duty during the night to rouse their crews if anything happens. Make
something happen, friend Fletcher."
The captain shook its head, in indecision rather than negation. It said, "The
Trolanni had star travel and the advanced technology to support it and were half
expecting to meet other star-traveling species. The spiders don't and weren't.
They would not understand. We'd probably scare them even more, give then more
cause to fear and hate us and, well, we could end up seriously damaging the
future philosophical development of their whole culture. Unless you can get an
emotional reading from them to the contrary, first-contact protocol forbids us
doing any-thing like that."
"They are too distant," said Prilicla regretfully, "and there are too many of
them emoting at once for that kind of reading. All I can feel from here is a
flood of hatred and aversion. If we could entice one or even a few of them
closer, their subtler feel-ings could be analyzed. They will continue to stay
away from us until the next attack. During an attack they will not be emoting
subtle feelings.
"The ideal solution would be to find a way to make them talk to us," he ended,
"and not fight."
"Yes," said the captain, and broke contact.
He joined the rest of the medical team as they were moving the patients' litters
onto the beach for their daily supportive medi-cation of fresh air and sunshine.
A few minutes he spent hovering above and exchanging a few words with them in
turn, beginning with the Terragar DBDG amputees before moving to the Trolanni
CHLIs to join the quiet conversation they were holding. Keet was well recovered
and fully capable of moving around without a litter and meeting the others, but
the knowledge that the druul-like healer and patients would not hurt either of
them had not yet penetrated to the deeper, emotional levels of its mind, so that
it preferred to stay on its litter behind the screens knowing that the other
patients could not leave theirs. Jasam was no longer in danger, but it would not
help its condition if it was forced into premature visual contact with the other
DBDGs. In any case, talking to the patients was not his primary reason for
coming outside.
The person who had already spoken with the spiders, he had decided, was the
logical one to reopen the conversation.
An hour later, with Prilicla hovering at its shoulder, the pathologist was
walking slowly in the direction of the sea and radiating feelings of mild
disappointment because it was unable
for reasons of personal security to immerse itself. It was carrying a small
sheet of plastic that had been rolled, speaking-trumpet-fashion, into a cone
because they had agreed that using a mike and Rhabwar's thunderous external
loudspeaker would have been unnecessary vocal overkill. He was towing a small
float con-taining the translation-computer terminal.
"I know I exchanged words with that spider captain, if that is what it is," said
Murchison as they crossed the line of disturbed sand where the meteorite screen
had briefly been switched on, "but only a few nouns and a verb, maybe two, and
stopping the others from shooting crossbow bolts at me might not have been an
act of friendship. It may not have wanted to waste ammuni-tion in the sea
because it was expecting to capture all of us later."
For a moment it radiated minor embarrassment, associated no doubt with a minor
infringement of its Earth-human nudity taboo, then went on, "When it saw me I
was wearing the only swimsuit I had with me, and this underwear is, well,
differently styled and colored. It might not recognize me again. I think you're
expecting too much of me, sir."
"Perhaps," he replied, "I'm expecting a miracle. When you are ready, friend
Murchison."
They walked and flew for about thirty meters beyond the mark in the sand left by
the meteorite shield. If it had been switched on they would have moved freely
through it, for it was designed to stop only incoming objects, but they would
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not have been able to go back again. A few spiders were moving about close to
their ships, and two of them were moving back along a ramp they had built
between the beach and the wreck of Terragar, although what people who knew
nothing of metal would think of such a hard, nonorganic structure, was anyone's
guess. Prilicla could feel Murchison's irritation at being ignored as it lifted
the speaking trumpet to its mouth.
"Krisit," it said, pointing at the nearest spider vessel, then turning to
indicate Rhabwar. "Preket krisit." It repeated the words several times before
pointing at itself and saying several
times, "Hukmaki." Finally it pointed towards the spider vessel that had been
first to arrive and so presumably contained her spider captain, and shouted,
"Krititkukik."
There was no visible reaction, but he could feel the cloud of hostility that was
emoting from the ships being laced with eddies of interest and curiosity. On the
upperworks of the nearest vessel a spider appeared and began chittering loudly
and continuously through its speaking trumpet, which was not directed at them. A
party of five spiders assembled around the end of the boarding ramp. Suddenly
they came scurrying towards them, unlimbering their crossbows as they came.
"Krititkukik," Murchison shouted again. "Humakik."
"They aren't coming to talk," said Prilicla.
"I don't have to be an empath to know that," Murchison said, radiating the anger
of disappointment. "Captain, the shield!"
"Right," said Fletcher, "I'm powering it up for full repulsion in ten seconds
from now. You've got that much time to get back across the line or you stay out
there with your friends."
Prilicla banked sharply and flew back the way he had come, weaving from side to
side as the crossbow bolts whispered past his slowly beating wings. Then he
thought that evasive action might not be such a good idea because the spiders
were shooting while on the move, which meant that their accuracy would suffer
and he might dodge into one of the bolts. He decided to do as Murchison was
doing and move straight and fast while giving them a steady target at which to
aim and hopefully miss.
They crossed the disturbed line of sand with a full two sec-onds to spare before
the meteorite shield stopped any more bolts from reaching them. The pathologist
halted, turned, and for a moment watched the bolts that were heading straight at
them bouncing off the shield and falling harmlessly onto the sand. The intensity
of the spiders' emotional radiation was such that he was forced to land, shaking
uncontrollably. The pathologist raised its speaking trumpet again.
"Don't waste your breath, friend Murchison," he said. "If you speak they will
not listen. There are no calm, thinking minds among them. They feel only anger
and disappointment, presum-ably at not being able to harm us, and an intensity
of hatred and hostility so great that, that I haven't felt anything like it
since the Trolanni reaction when they thought friend Fletcher was a druul. Let's
return to our patients."
On their way back Prilicla was walking rather than flying beside Murchison. He
saw it looking at his trembling limbs and felt its concern for the empathic pain
he was feeling.
"Oh, well," it said, knowing that he knew its feelings and trying to move to a
less painful subject, "at least we gave our bored, convalescent patients a
little real-life drama to amuse them."
Before he could reply, Fletcher's voice sounded in their headsets.
"There'll be no shortage of drama around here," it said, in the calm voice it
had been trained to use while reporting calam-itous events. "The six spider
vessels nearing the other side of the island will join the three already there
within the next hour. An additional six units are hull-up on the horizon on this
side, and there are two other three-unit fleets, which according to our
wind-strength calculations, won't reach us until early tomorrow. All the
indications are that the spiders are mounting a combined land, sea, and air
assault. Your patients will have ringside seats."
CHAPTER 31
Neither the Earth-human DGDGs nor the Trolanni CHLIs were feeling worried by the
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impending attack because both species were star-travelers and were aware of the
effectiveness of the meteorite shield. Terragars officers were feeling concern
over the fact that the ongoing first contact with the spiders was not going
well, but they were not deeply concerned because the ul-timate responsibility
for its mismanagement was not theirs and in the meantime they were willing to
enjoy the spectacle. The feelings of Keet and Jasam were more selfish, radiating
as they did intense relief that they were both alive and likely to remain that
way, as well as general confusion at the strange things that were happening to
and around them. Murchison, Danalta, and Naydrad had their feelings under
control. It was the captain, whose voice was being relayed from Rhabwars control
deck, who vocalized its worries by telling them not to worry.
"There is no immediate cause for concern," it said. "Our power pile will enable
the life support and ship's thrusters to be operated indefinitely; but not so,
the tractor-beam units and me-teorite protection. In a planetary atmosphere they
drain five times the power required for operation in a vacuum, and this ship was
designed for speedy casualty retrieval rather than a du-ration flight."
"You mean," said Naydrad with an impatient ruffling of its fur, "that nobody
expected us to be fighting an interspecies war with an ambulance ship. How long
have we got?"
"Forty-six hours of full shield deployment," it replied, "after which we'll have
to lift out of here, or remain unprotected until someone rescues us. I shall
explain the tactical situation as it unfolds...."
But they didn't need the other's continuous evaluation and commentary because
they could see everything that was happen-ing for themselves.
The three ships from the other side of the island came into sight, hugging the
shoreline and beaching themselves in the spaces between the first three. All six
vessels dropped their land-ing ramps and opened the upper sail-shields where,
Prilicla knew from previous observations, the gliders would be launched. There
was no other visible activity and very little intership conversation. This was
probably due, the captain thought, to all of the battle orders having already
being issued so that they were awaiting only the signal to begin. The nearest
six-unit fleet, all its sail-shields deployed to catch the wind off the sea, was
approaching fast in line-abreast formation. Just above the horizon beyond them,
at about fifty degrees lateral separation, two more high-flying gliders were
performing signal aerobatics for three more fleets which totaled fifteen units.
They were still below the ho-rizon and would not, the captain estimated, arrive
until early the next day.
The six latest arrivals found gaps in which to come aground and they, too,
closed their sail-shields apart from a few ventilation openings, and lowered
their landing ramps. The beach was be-coming really crowded, Prilicla thought,
so that Terragar had disappeared from sight behind a line of giant,
greenish-brown molluscs. There came the sound of the senior spiders on each ship
using their speaking trumpets, followed by a lengthening silence.
"I don't think we'll see any action today," said the captain.
"Plainly they are waiting for the other fifteen ships to arrive be-fore
attacking us-----Oops, I stand corrected."
Spiders were crawling down the landing ramps of every ship to begin forming into
lines on the dry sand above the water's edge. All of them were armed with
crossbows and, in addition, eight of them carried between them what looked like
two heavy battering rams with sharply tapering points. Simultaneously glid-ers
were being launched on the seaward side, two from each ship.
They climbed slowly and heavily into the wind off the sea, and only when they
made slow, banking turns towards the beach to take advantage of the thermals
rising from the hot sand was it possible to see that the gliders carried
passengers as well as pilots and that both were armed with crossbows.
The aircraft continued to gain height slowly and steadily while the ground
forces deployed three-deep into a crescent for-mation, with the battering rams
placed front and center, before advancing on the med station and watching
patients.
The captain's voice returned, giving orders rather than a commentary.
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"Dodds," it said briskly, "shoot a couple of flares inland and drag them along
the perimeter. The vegetation has dried out since last time so be careful not to
start a major fire, just give me a line of burning bushes and smoke. There's no
sign of an attack developing from that quarter but I want to put them off the
idea in case they burn themselves."
"Sir," said Haslam, "shall I whip up another sandstorm on the beach?"
"Negative," it replied, "there's no point in wasting the power. Last time we
didn't want them to hit the meteorite shield, but they found out about it when
they were shooting at Murchison and Prilicla. But have your tractors ready just
in case. Dr. Prilicla."
"Yes, friend Fletcher," he said.
"There is no risk to your patients out there," it went on, "because there is no
way that the spiders can get through our
shield, but I don't know what they might do to themselves while they're trying.
It could be visually unpleasant, so I advise moving them indoors before..."
The captain's next few words were drowned by a wail of protest and accompanying
emotional radiation.
"Thank you for the suggestion, friend Fletcher," said Prili-cla, "but I am
receiving strong vocal and emotional objections from my patients and staff, all
of whom would prefer to see the action at first hand."
"Bloodthirsty savages," said the captain dryly, "and I'm not talking about the
spiders."
There were twelve ships drawn up along the beach, each one carrying two gliders
and a crew complement of anything up to two hundred. The bright yellow sand in
front of the station was disappearing under the brownish-green bodies of over
two thou-sand advancing spiders and, if it hadn't been for the knowledge that
the meteorite shield made them invulnerable, it would have been a terrifying
sight as the spiders halted about fifty meters from the shield and readied their
crossbows. Apart from the faint whisper of glider slipstreams as they circled
and climbed above the station, there was utter silence. Plainly, all the
necessary or-ders had already been given and they were awaiting only the signal
to attack.
"This is stupid," said Murchison from her position among the medical team
grouped around and below him. "They aren't going to get anywhere with this
attack so why don't they just forget it and go home? After all, we haven't hurt
them in anyway and we're trying hard not to, but if this foolishness goes on,
someone is sure to come to grief."
"We have hurt them, friend Murchison," said Prilicla, "but not physically or in
any other way we can understand at present. Maybe we are horrible creatures from
the sky, the forerunners of more to come, who are invading their land. That is
reason enough, but I have the feeling there is another one. A large num-ber of
their people are close enough to give me an emotional
reading. For some reason they feel hatred, revulsion, and loathing for us. The
feeling is intense and it is shared by all of them."
"I can't believe that, sir," Murchison protested. "When I was taken onto that
ship there was physical contact with the spider captain who treated me well,
considering the situation. It showed intelligence and intense curiosity. Maybe
it was a scientist of some kind with its feelings under strict control. I don't
have an empathic faculty like yours, but if it had been feeling hatred and
revulsion as well as curiosity I'm sure I would have felt it. My feeling now is
that since my escape, we may have done some-thing to make them really hate us."
Before he could reply, Naydrad curved its body into a flat L so that its narrow
head was pointing vertically upwards and said, "Even at the beginning of a
battle their pilots like to show off. Look at that."
At an altitude of about three hundred meters the gliders that had been climbing
singly or in small, random groups above the full width of the beach had come
together into a wide, circular formation. For a few moments they circled
nose-to-tail like the star performers in an aerial display, then they banked
inwards in unison, tightening the circle until they were directly above the
med-station buildings and the watchers. The captain's voice re-turned.
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"Nice coordination," it said approvingly, "but I don't think they're showing
off. The pilots and passengers are unlimbering their crossbows with the idea,
I'd say, of shooting straight down at you. They probably figure that the bolts
will have more pen-etration with the gravity assist of a three-hundred-meter
fall. It's a sensible idea but, not knowing how our shield works, com-pletely
wrong. ... Now what the hell are they doing?"
One of the gliders had rolled into a near-vertical bank, tight-ening its circle
and descending, sideslipping off height as it came. It was followed quickly by
another three and then suddenly all of the aircraft were spiralling down towards
them.
"Oh, no!" said the captain, answering its own question. "Be-
cause their crossbow bolts were stopped at ground level, they think the shield
is a wall surrounding us instead of a protective hemisphere. They're going to
crash into an invisible wall at full .. . Haslam, Dodds, deploy your tractors,
wide focus and low power in pressor node. Try not to wreck their gliders, just
fend them off before they hit it."
"Sir," Haslam protested, "I need a few seconds to focus on every target...."
"And there are too many targets," Dodds joined in.
"Do what you can—" the captain had time to say before the first glider crashed
into the curving invisible surface of the shield.
It looked as if the aircraft had broken up and collapsed into a loose ball of
wreckage in midair without any apparent cause. Both occupants were entangled in
the structure as it tumbled along the frictionless surface of the shield towards
the ground. The second pilot, guessing that some strange weapon was being used
against them, banked sharply in an attempt to climb up and away. But one wing
struck the shield, crumpled, and its main spar penetrated the fuselage. The
aircraft spun heavily into the frictionless surface and the passenger was thrown
free before its pilot and the crippled glider began to slip groundwards at an
accelerating rate.
"Haslam, Dodds, grab them," said the captain sharply. "Ease them down gently.
Right, Doctor?"
"You're reading our minds, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla; then, "Friend
Naydrad, instruct. .."
The fall of the first glider was checked about five meters from the ground and
eased down so gently that it barely dis-turbed the sand, but the second one was
caught two meters up so that its speed and impact were only slightly diminished.
"... Instruct the robots to return all patients to recovery at once," Prilicla
went on. For a moment he stared at the semicircle of waiting spiders that had
begun to edge closer while he tried to maintain stable hovering flight in spite
of the almost physical
impact of their emotional hostility. He made a quick, mental calculation and
spoke.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, "will you please increase the ..."
"The diameter of the meteorite shield by, I would estimate, ten metres," the
captain broke in. "Am I still reading your mind, Doctor?"
"You are, friend Fletcher," he replied, looking up.
The perfect, circular formation of the attacking gliders had broken up in
disorder and the individual aircraft were scattering wildly and trying to regain
height, all except two which had col-lided over an unshielded area of beach.
They had each locked one of their wings together so that they were rotating
around their common center of gravity and descending in an uncon-trolled flat
spin. Their rate of descent was fairly slow so that the spiders under them had
time to scurry clear of the point of im-pact. They would hit too far away and
there would be too many uninjured and angry spiders in the area between for him
to risk extending the shield farther to try for a medical rescue. He hoped their
friends would be able to take care of them and relieve his team of the
responsibility.
"Prepare for incoming casualties," he said briskly. "Four patients, hostile and
noncooperative requiring physical restraint. Physiological classification GKSD
with no prior medical data on file. Impact trauma is expected with probable
external and inter-nal thoracic damage, extensive limb fracturing, and
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associated surface lesions. I will assess and assign the treatment priorities.
Naydrad, send the antigravity litters and rescue equipment. The rest of you,
let's go."
He flew towards the wreckage of the first glider but Murchison, sprinting across
the sand on its long, shapely Earth-human legs, reached it seconds before he
did. The litter with the rescue gear came a close third.
"Both casualties are deeply unconscious and pose no present danger," he said,
"or future danger, provided you get rid of those weapons. Do you need Danalta to
assist?"
Murchison shook its head. He could feel its concern for the casualties, its
excitement at being presented with a new profes-sional challenge and a flash of
anger as it pulled the two cross-bows and quivers from the wreckage and threw
them with unnecessary force through the one-way protective shield at the
surrounding spiders. It said angrily, "For you two bloody idiots the war is
over. Sorry, sir, my mind was wandering. These two are badly entangled in
wreckage with several limbs trapped, and one thorax has been transfixed by a
wing spar. Rather than cut them free here and transfer them to litters, I feel
sure that there would be less trauma involved if we lifted them, wreckage and
all, with a tractor beam and placed them close to the treatment-bay entrance.
That way we'll reduce the risk of compounding their injuries before treatment."
"Your feeling is correct, friend Murchison," he said, flying towards the second
wreck. "Do that."
Only the pilot in the second wreck was unconscious while its passenger was
radiating anger, fear, and hatred. Suddenly it burst out of the wreckage and
aimed its crossbow at him while scurrying rapidly towards the station entrance.
Prilicla flew high and took vigorous evasive action while Danalta interposed its
virtually indestructible body to protect him, then extruded the limbs necessary
to give chase and disarm the fast-moving spider. But even a shape-changer of
Danalta's ability needed a few mo-ments to change shape, and the spider was more
than halfway to the open entrance of the treatment room where Murchison and
Naydrad were attending to the casualties in the pile of wreckage that had been
the first glider. Ignoring the DBDG and CHLI patients still waiting to be moved
indoors, it was heading straight for the medical-team members, its crossbow
cocked and aimed.
Suddenly it was rammed into the ground, skidding to a halt in the sand and lying
motionless, as a tractor beam in pressor mode held it as if under a heavy glass
plate to the ground.
"Sorry about that," said Haslam, "I had to be fast rather than gentle. Let me
know when you want me to release it."
Murchison ran towards it and stopped just outside the pressor field and bent
forward for a closer look as Danalta arrived.
"You damn near squashed it flat, Lieutenant," it said a mo-ment later. "Release
it now. There are no limb fractures that I can see, but there is evidence of
overall pressure trauma, asphyx-iation, and it may already be unconscious...."
"It is," said Prilicla as he flew closer, "but not deeply."
"Right," Murchison went on. "Danalta, lose its weapon and help me transfer it to
a litter, under restraint. Naydrad, help me untangle the other two from this
wreckage."
A few minutes later Danalta and himself were back at the other wreck. The
thoracic injuries caused by the penetration of the wing spar appeared to be
life-threatening but its emotional radiation was not characteristic of an
imminent termination. With very little help from Prilicla's fragile limbs and
pitifully weak muscles, the shape-changer extricated the pilot and trans-ferred
it, also under precautionary restraint, to the waiting litter. By that time all
of the other patients had been moved indoors.
".. . Based on the actions of your lone hero," the captain was saying on the
treatment-room communicator as they en-tered, "their attack strategy is plain.
Deciding that they couldn't get through what they thought was a protective wall,
and know-ing from previous reconnaissance flights that there weren't many of us,
they decided to go over the wall and land an airborne force to kill us before
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destroying the controls for the wall, except that it wasn't a wall. Considering
their incomplete information, it was a neat plan...."
"Our hero is regaining consciousness," Murchison broke in. "Naydrad, hold its
torso still so I can scan it."
Prilicla flew nearer and tried hard to project feelings of com-fort and
reassurance at the returning consciousness. But it was so terrified and confused
by its surroundings, and emoting the dread characteristic of an entity expecting
the worst of all possible fates, that he could not reach it.
He glanced back through one of the room's big windows at
the spider horde beyond the shield, then up at the circling gliders as he felt
the waves of hatred beating in on him. If those feelings weren't rooted in pure
xenophobia then something the med team was doing or perhaps not doing was being
badly misunderstood because the spiders' hatred and loathing was mounting
steadily in intensity. But how could he explain a misunderstanding in the middle
of a battle when all he could do was feel but not speak? War, he thought sadly
as he looked down at the terrified casualty, was composed mostly of hatred and
heroism, both of them misplaced.
CHAPTER 32
Apart from the glider pilot pierced by the wing spar," Murchison dictated into
the recorders as it worked, "the spiders taken from the two wrecks are
presenting with multiple limb fractures but, according to my scanner, few of the
expected in-ternal injuries. This is due to the fact that their bodies are
encased in a tough but flexible exoskeleton which bends rather than breaks.
Three of them display physical damage which, in a pre-viously known
physiological type, is a condition which would be considered serious but not
critical. One of these, the spider who tried to attack the station singlehanded,
if that's the right word, got squashed by the pressor beam and sustained anoxia
and mi-nor limb deformation. Both of these conditions are treatable by temporary
supportive splinting and a period of rest, so by rights it should go to the end
of the line. But these are new life-forms to us and that is the reason why, with
Dr. Prilicla's permission, I propose using the fourth and least damaged casualty
as a med-ical benchmark for its more seriously injured colleagues."
It broke off to look searchingly at Prilicla before going on. "The mental
condition of the fourth casualty must be causing severe emotional distress to
Dr. Prilicla, perhaps of an intensity that could affect its work. For that
reason I propose to render the fourth casualty unconscious before proceeding
with ..."
"Can that be done safely?" Prilicla broke in.
"I believe so, sir," it replied. "We know from experience that the metabolism,
brain structure, and associated nerve and sensory networks of insectoid
life-forms have much in common, as has the painkilling and anesthetic medication
used on them. Graduated and increasing doses will be administered to Spider
Patient Four and the effects noted and calibrated for use on the others."
"Proceed, friend Murchison," he said, "and thank you."
Gradually the close-range source of hatred, fear, and revul-sion that was Spider
Patient Four died away to become the mild radiation signature characteristic of
a mind that was no longer capable of a sentient or sapient response. Strangely,
the emotional radiation emanating from the multitude of more distant sources was
also diminishing. The voice of the captain on their com-municator gave the
reason.
"The sun is going down and the spider ground forces are withdrawing to their
ships," it said, and Prilicla could feel its pleasure and relief, "as are all of
the gliders. The attack is over for now. We'll remain alert for any hostile
night activity and kill the meteorite shield to conserve power."
"Next," said Naydrad, ruffling its fur irritably, "it will want us to operate by
candlelight."
"Spider Patient Four appears to be deeply unconscious," said Murchison, ignoring
the remark, "and there are no indica-tions suggesting a physiological rejection
of the anesthetic. Do you detect any emotional radiation to the contrary, sir?"
"I do not, friend Murchison," said Prilicla. "Now let us proceed at once with
the patient who is most grievously ill. Friend Naydrad, is Spider One ready for
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us?"
"As ready as it will ever be," the nurse replied with another impatient tufting
of its fur. "I have immobilized the patient on its undamaged side but otherwise
have done nothing. Carpentry was not included in my medical training."
Nor in mine, thought Prilicla. He led the way towards the glider pilot's
operating frame and projected reassurance as he said "The accurate cutting,
smoothing, and extraction of splin-tered wood from the deeply perforated
carapace of the patient and the rebuilding of the damaged exoskeleton and limbs
are, to my mind a form of carpentry in that initially we shall be cutting wood.
Let us begin-"
The impact that had torn the wing spar loose at its fuselage attachment point
had also driven it transversely into the pilot's underbelly and upwards until
it had penetrated the inner surface of the beings thick, leathery carapace,
where it emerged for a few inches beyond it, that natural body-armor had
resisted penetration to the extent that it had caused the structural member to
bend and break in a classic example of a greenstick fracture inside the
abdominal contents, and removing the broken-but-still-joined spar, including the
splinters and pieces of binding cord adhesive material, and tattered wing
fabric still attached to it could cause more damage than that inflicted by the
original entry wound.
The few inches of spar projecting through the hole it had made in the carapace
they left until later. The earlier scanner examination had shown that the wooden
member was pressed so tightly into surrounding tissues that it had sealed off
most of the damaged blood vessels and reduced the bleeding in the area That
section of spar could safely be left in place for the time being while the more
urgent repair work in the abdominal area was attempted
Prilicla began by surgically enlarging the entry wound to give Danalta and
himself more space to work, since speed rather than minimal surgery was required
here. Carefully he slid a fine laser knife with an angled blade focus along the
spar to the point where it had fractured and bent. There was a brief puff of
vapor as he cut it in two and the small quantity of wood, spider blood,
and body fluid in the area dried up or boiled away
"Naydrad'" said Prilicla, "withdraw the spar smoothly along the original angle
of entry and apply suction where I indicate. Danalta, be ready to help me
control the bleeding and subsequent repairs. Murchison, remove foreign material
from the lost blood and retain it for possible reuse...."
There were a large number of spiders around, he thought, but he was not in a
position to ask for volunteer blood donors.
"... We will ignore any loose splinters for now," he went on, "and tidy up
later. But Murchison, keep track of them in case they find a way into the
circulatory system. Gently, Naydrad, begin the withdrawal."
Before the section of spar had been pulled free of the wound, Murchison's
scanner was showing copious bleeding from two of the major blood vessels that it
had been compressing.
He said quickly, "Naydrad, suction, let's see what we're do-ing. Danalta, clamp
off the bleeders while I go after the the torn section of bowel. Murchison,
enlarge the image of the operative field by four, and hold it as steady as you
can."
Danalta was waiting with a blocky hand resting against one of the
operating-frame supports to steady it, and with two long, pencil-thin fingers
already extruded. When the digits reached the severed blood vessels they divided
in half and each one grew two wide, wafer-thin spatulate tips which wrapped
themselves gently around two veins above and below the tears and tightened until
the blood diminished to a trickle and stopped. Prilicla inserted his own long,
featherlike digits into the wound and isolated and tied off the torn length of
bowel in a more orthodox fashion with running sutures.
"The tearing is too irregular and widespread for us to at-tempt a dependable,
long-term repair," he said, "so we'll have to do a resection after completely
removing the affected length. But not too much of it. The digestive and
waste-elimination system in this species has a lesser redundancy of internal
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tubing than have our Earth-human and Kelgian friends. Naydrad, be ready with a
sterile biodegradable sleeve with a fifty-day dissolution period. By that time,
judging by our patient's basal metabolism, healing should be complete. Friend
Murchison?"
"I agree," it said, radiating controlled concern. "But, sir, can I make a
suggestion? Two, in fact. One is that we don't spend too much time on the
tidiness of the work. The patient's vital signs, when compared with those of the
spiders with minimal injures, are not good. Taking into consideration the severe
trauma caused by it being transfixed by that wing spar, the other suggestion is
that you do the remaining repair work from your present operating site rather
than cutting open a flap of carapace, which would certainly increase the amount
and duration of the trauma."
"Very well," he replied and felt her relief, "we'll do it that way."
Even though it was being performed for the first time on a member of a
hitherto-unknown species, the procedure was in most respects routine. That was
because the other-species Edu-cator tapes that had been impressed on his
Cinrusskin mind con-tained physiological and medical data as well as the
surgical knowledge of five other intelligent life-forms—Kelgians, Melfans,
Earth-humans, Tralthans, and the light-gravity Eurils—as well as his own. There
were only so many ways, in spite of the wide variety of outward physical
differences, that the internal plumb-ing of a warm-blooded oxygen breather could
be put right, and he had good second-hand surgical knowledge of most of them. He
was relieved to find that the spider physiology shared a few minor similarities
with the Kelgian caterpillars and his own Cin-russkin species, but he had to
keep searching for others.
Prilicla cringed mentally as he shuffled through the welter of other-species
thoughts and impressions that filled his mind with apparently warring alien
entities. Without the Educator tape system the practice of all but the simplest
forms of other-species surgery and medicine would have been impossible, but the
tapes had one serious, psychological disadvantage that barred their use to all
but the most stable, adaptable, and, he suspected in his own case, the most
cowardly and non-resistant of minds. That was because the tapes did not transfer
only the clinical information
possessed by the donor minds but their entire personalities, which included all
of their pet peeves, phobias, short tempers, and greater or lesser psychological
faults as well.
Many times the hospital's diagnosticians as well as his fellow senior physicians
had described the process as an experience of multiple schizophrenia viewed from
the inside, as the donor en-tities apparently struggled with the tape recipient
for possession of its mind. The effect was purely subjective, naturally, but
where mental or physical discomfort was concerned there was no real difference
so far as he was concerned. His own method of dealing with the problem, a
solution which had sorely perplexed the hos-pital's department of other-species
psychology because most in-telligent beings were incapable of acting in such
cowardly fashion, had been to offer no resistance at all to the donor mind and
to use its information no matter which of them thought they were boss of their
mental world.
But in the physical world, while an other-species entity was occupying most of
his mind, he had to remember to behave like a weak and incredibly fragile
Cinrusskin and, if his donor entity should be a heavy-gravity Hudlar or Tralthan
with a body-weight measured in tons, not to throw his non-existent weight
around.
Like himself the spiders possessed six legs, but they were much more heavily
muscled and he doubted if "cowardice" was in common usage in their vocabularies.
Even with Naydrad pressing down on the remainder of the spar where it projected
through the carapace while Danalta and himself drew it out from underneath, the
second half of the pro-cedure took longer because the repair work to the
lacerated blood vessels in the area, while operationally similar, was both more
delicate and more awkwardly situated. But finally it was done, the operative
field was cleared of foreign debris and the abdom-inal wound sutured and a
small, sterile plate placed over the exit wound in the carapace. The repair work
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that remained was ur-gent and necessary but not life-threatening.
The glider impact had broken three of the patient's limbs,
with one of them sustaining a double fracture that had come close to being a
traumatic amputation.
"We have already ascertained," he said with a glance to-wards Murchison, "that
the limbs on this species are exoskeletal and are composed of hardened, organic
cylinders with no exter-nal sensors or muscle system apart from those serving
the digits at the extremities. They use a proprioceptor system which enables the
brain to know the exact, three-dimensional position of a limb with respect to
the body at any given time, and movement is controlled hydraulically by the
increase or reduction of internal fluid. Much of this fluid has been lost
because of its injuries, but the supply should be replaced artificially with
sterile fluid until it is replaced naturally in the manner of other species who
au-tomatically restore blood or other body fluids to the required volume.
"With this patient," he went on, "we will use the accepted procedure for joining
exoskeletal fractures and encase them in a rigid collar of the required length.
We will begin with the left forward member and ... I'm tired, Murchison, but
still opera-tional. Control your feelings, you are emoting like a nagging
life-mate!"
The other was radiating concern rather than irritation but it did not reply.
"I'm sorry, friend Murchison," he apologized a moment later, "for my lack of
concentration and mental confusion. Cer-tain aspects of the procedure brought my
Earth-human and Kel-gian tape-donor personalities to the forefront of my mind,
and that is not a polite combination."
Murchison laughed quietly and said, "I guessed as much. But look out of the
window, it's morning already. This has been a long op and you must be close to
the limits of your endurance. With the experience we've already gained on this
one, treating its limb fractures and the superficial injuries of the other
spider casualties will be simple by comparison. The rest of the cases are
non-urgent so that if we do encounter problems, they can wait until you waken.
But I'm sure the rest of us can handle them."
"I'm sure you can," said Prilicla, looking at it through a thickening fog of
fatigue that was becoming opaque to coherent thought. "But there is something
about this one that concerns me, subtle differences in the external and internal
body structure from that of your benchmark patient in recovery. This is a new
species to us. The pilot may have sustained impact injuries that at first were
not as obvious as physical trauma, deformation, and internal-organ displacement,
perhaps, which ..."
He broke off as Murchison laughed, louder this time, and there was an explosion
of amusement from it and the other mem-bers of the team that momentarily hid
their feelings of concern for himself.
"Perhaps you were concentrating so much on the surgical details," Murchison
said, "that you were too busy to notice or identify the differences you
mentioned. They are due to the fact that our benchmark patient is a female and
this one isn't."
"You are right, I must be tired," he said, joining and adding to their waves of
amusement as he flew unsteadily to the large, flat top of an instrument cabinet
in a corner of the room and settled onto it. "But I shall observe and try to
stay awake until all of our spiders are treated."
He surprised himself by doing just that before his increasing physical and
mental fatigue rendered sentience and sapience next to impossible. With all of
the spider patients treated and trans-ferred to the recovery room, his last
conscious impression was of Murchison standing before the communicator and
speaking to the captain.
"I've already tried to talk to one of them," it was saying, "and I'd like to try
again using simplified first contact procedure. These people aren't
space-travelers so I won't need the compli-cated Federation historical material
used during the Trolanni contact. There's nothing else to do here at the moment
except
brood about the nasty things that could happen to us. So I want to try talking
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to them again. What do you think?"
"I think yes, ma'am," Fletcher replied. "Give me half an hour to modify the
program, then I'll stand by to advise on its usage. There are eight more spider
ships hull-up on the horizon and another twenty on the radar screens but still
no activity on the beach. That situation will certainly change before long and
the result will be a lot of people, possibly including ourselves, being killed.
"Talking our way out of this trouble," it ended, "is the pre-ferred option."
CHAPTER 34
Prilicla wakened suddenly with the feeling that he had been caught up in a riot.
Many strident, other-species word sounds and waves of angry emotional radiation
were beating into his mind. Suddenly terrified and still befuddled with sleep,
he wondered if the meteorite shield had failed and the spiders were overrunning
the station. But then his slowly clearing mind and empathic faculty made him
aware that the loudest sounds and strongest feelings were emanating from two
principle sources, one of which was long-familiar to him, and both of them were
in the adjoining recovery ward.
Not trusting his trembling wings to fly, he walked unsteadily into the other
room to find out what was happening.
With the exception of the recently treated and still-unconscious spider pilot
and Captain Fletcher, who was staring at the proceedings from the ward
communicator screen, everyone in the ward was trying to talk at the same time,
so much so that parts of the conversations were lost in the derisive beeping of
the ward translator going into overload. Farther down the ward the Terragar
casualties and Keet were arguing, heatedly but in tones low enough for them to
hear the quiet voice of Jasam, who was postoperatively debilitated but
recovering well, making a contri-bution. But most of the vocal and emotional
noise was coming from the argument between Murchison and the glider pilot's
uninjured passenger.
The spider passenger was arguing... ?
Surprised but not yet knowing if he should be pleased, he turned up the output
volume of his own translator unit and, borrowing a phrase from his Earth-human
mind partner that seemed appropriate in the circumstances, said, "Will everyone
please shut the hell up?" When the arguments tapered off into silence, he added,
"Except you, friend Murchison. The spider passenger's words are being
translated. We can talk to and un-derstand each other now, and make peace before
anyone else is hurt. This should be the best possible news, but instead it feels
as if a war is starting. Explain."
The pathologist inhaled and exhaled slowly as it strove to regain its customary
emotional equilibrium before speaking; then it said, "As you know, I'd already
learned a few words of their language when I was captured, and with the help of
the captain's first-contact material and a lot of sign language, we were able to
make ourselves understood to the point where the translation computer could take
over and finish the job. We can now talk to each other, and that includes
talking with the other patients and staff, but we aren't communicating. It won't
believe a damn thing I or anyone else says to it." Murchison spread her arms out
horizontally to full extension with the palms of its hands facing each other.
"There's a credibility gap this wide."
"I understand," said Prilicla. He began walking towards the disbelieving spider,
slowly in case his appearance might frighten it, to stop beside its litter. It
was capable of ambulation but was being firmly restrained by webbing for its own
as well as for the other patients' protection. Then spreading his wings he took
off to maintain a stable hover close to the ceiling where he was sure of getting
everyone's attention.
"What the hell are you," said the spider, its chittering speech
serving as a background to the accurately translated words, "some kind of
performing bloody pet?"
He ignored Naydrad's agitated fur and the choking sounds Murchison was making
and replied, "No, I am the entity in charge of the people here." Because the
members of his medi-cal team already knew what was required, it was to the
Trolanni and Earth-human patients that he went on. "Everyone, please be quiet
and, so far as you are able, stop emoting for the next few minutes. I must be
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free of extraneous emotional in-terference if I am to obtain an accurate reading
of this patient's feelings and the reasons for the hostility the spiders show
to-wards us... ."
"I'm not a spider," the patient broke in, "I am Irisik, a Crextic, and a free
and intelligent member of the floating clan Sitikis, who will shortly join the
other clans in wiping you off the face of our world. And if you don't know the
reason for our hostility, then in spite of the strange and wondrous magic you
have used against us, you are very stupid."
"Not stupid, just ignorant," said Prilicla, trying to maintain his stable hover
in spite of the gale of strong emotion blowing up at him; "but ignorance is a
temporary condition that can be relieved by the acquisition of knowledge. You
have feelings of fear, anger, intense hatred, and loathing towards us. If you
will tell me why you feel this way, I will tell you why there is no reason for
the Sitikis to have these feelings. A simple exchange of knowledge about
ourselves will solve the problem."
"Your problem, not ours," said Irisik, looking towards the injured glider pilot.
"You will satisfy your curiosity regarding your victims as well as your hunger.
In the end we will be eaten with the rest of your catch."
"I've told it over and over again that we don't eat peo-ple. ..." Murchison
began angrily, then stopped as Prilicla made the Cinrusskin gesture for silence.
"Please," he said. "I want to hear this patient speaking to me and no one else.
Irisik, what makes you think that we eat people?"
Irisik inclined its head, the only part of its body free of the litter
restraints, towards Murchison. "This other stupid one," it said, "has been
telling me many things, including the lie that it wants us to go on living.
That, a sane, adult, reasoning person cannot and will not believe. Don't waste
time telling me new and even more fantastic lies. You know the answer to your
question, so don't pretend that either one of us is stupid."
Prilicla was silent for a moment. Considering the other's emotional state, and
in particular its behavior and verbal coher-ency in a situation that was unique
in its experience and which it fully believed would have only a lethal outcome,
he found Irisik's behavior admirable. But not the feelings of solid
self-certainty and disbelief that surrounded the creature's mind like a stone
wall.
Murchison, he knew, would already have given it a simpli-fied version of the
work of the Federation, the Monitor Corps, the hospital, and the special
ambulance ship nearby and the du-ties its crew performed, clearly without
success. He thought of explaining that he himself felt only sympathy for its
fears which would in a short time be proved groundless. But he felt sure, and
his feelings were rarely wrong, that the wall of certainty sur-rounding the
other's beliefs and disbeliefs was impervious to any-thing he could do or say.
Perhaps the wall could only be demolished from within.
"To the contrary," he continued, "pretend that I and every-one else here is
stupid. You are an intelligent, logical being who has good reasons for feeling
and believing as you do, so share these reasons with us. Whether you believe
what I am telling you now or not, we do not intend to do anything to anyone
here, apart from feeding them, for the rest of the day. So if you were to talk
about yourself, your world and your people and why you believe the things you
do, the day or days will pass for us in an
interesting manner. If what you tell us is particularly interesting, it may be
that so much time will pass that..."
"Shades of Scheherazade," said Murchison quietly.
No doubt it was an obscure reference from something in the pathologist's
Earth-human past, but this was not the time to go off on historical tangents. He
went on. "... that your friends will be able to find a way of rescuing you.
There is a saying among our people, Irisik, that while there is life there is
hope."
"We have a similar saying," the other said.
"Then talk to us, Irisik," said Prilicla. "Tell us the things you think we
already know, and with them the many things that you know we don't know. Is
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there anything we can do to make you feel more comfortable, apart from letting
you go free, before you begin?"
"No," said Irisik. "But how do you know I won't tell you lies, or exaggerate the
truth?"
"We won't," Prilicla replied, settling to the ground beside the other's litter.
"As strangers we might not be able to tell the difference, but the lies or
exaggerated truth will be equally inter-esting to us. Please go on, and begin
with the reason why you think we will eat you."
Irisik was radiating fear, anger, and impatience, but it spent a few moments
getting these feelings under control before it spoke.
"You will eat us," it began, "because your actions from the start made it clear
that that is why you are here. Piracy and food-gathering raids are well known to
us, unfortunately, but they are by other sea clans who are too uncivilized, or
too lazy, to fish or practice the arts of plant and animal husbandry and find it
easier, like you, to steal rather than to cultivate. We don't know where you
came from except that it was somewhere in the sky, but from the first time you
were observed by the Crextic who walk the clouds, your intentions were clear. As
a precaution they main-tained a height too great for them to view your
activities in detail, or to see you take our growing food into your great white
ship. In fact, many of us could not believe that you could be so short-sighted,
stupid, and criminal as to take immature livestock that would rob us not only of
the animals, but of the many genera-tions of food beasts that would have
followed, but we were shown to be wrong... ."
... While the living food and fruit was still too immature and small to be seen
by the cloud-walkers, Irisik went on to explain, the other strange animals that
the strangers used for food had been clearly visible to them. They had observed
how these creatures had been tethered to litters, how they had had their walking
limbs removed to prevent them from escaping, how they had been exposed to
sunlight and been periodically washed in the sea in order to remove wastes and
harmful parasites and render them more fit for consumption.
While it had been speaking, Prilicla felt Murchison trying very hard to control
its feelings of shock and abhorrence and its vain attempts to maintain silence.
He didn't try to stop it speak-ing because it was wanting to ask the questions
that he badly wanted answered himself.
"Some of these are members of our own species," Murchi-son said, gesturing
towards the Terragar casualties. "Do you think we would eat them? Would Kritik—I
mean Krititkukik—have eaten me?"
"Yes, to both questions," Irisik replied without hesitation. "It is stupid to
waste a supply of edible food, regardless of the emotional connections, if any,
that one may have with the source. It is not pleasant for the immediate family
or friends of the deceased, and many choose to eat only the smallest of mor-sels
and pass the remainder to hungry or needy strangers who have no memories of or
emotional ties with the meal. But it must be done if the essence of a beloved
parent or siblings is to continue into the future. Plainly it is the same with
you peo-ple."
Murchison's emotional radiation was so confused that it was unable to speak.
Irisik went on. "Knowing your intentions and reason for being here, we spread
the word about you and set about assembling all of the sea clans in this ocean.
Some of them are little more than pirates and food robbers like you, and
nor-mally we would prefer to shoot our crossbows at them as sky-talk to their
ships to ask for their cooperation, but everyone agreed to forget our
differences for the present in order to kill the strangers.
"You may think me guilty of exaggeration," it went on, "but I assure you that
the Crextic ships already assembled around this island are only a small fraction
of those which will arrive within the next few days. In spite of your fire
throwers, your invisible weapons that hurl sand and water at us, and your magic
shield, we will smother and crush you with our cloud-walkers and surface
fighters. The cost to us will be ex-treme, but we must ensure that no more of
your kind are tempted to raid our world.
"And I must correct your mistake," it continued into the shocked silence.
"Krititkukik is not a name, it is the title of the leader of our sea clan. It
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would have eaten your most desirable parts, as is its right, before sharing you
with the rest of the crew. Being a sensitive person as well as one who was
filled with sci-entific curiosity, and knowing that you were a strange but
intel-ligent source of food with feelings, it would have concealed from you as
long as possible the fact that you were to be eaten. Some-times I think the
Krititkukik lacks the quality of ruthlessness nec-essary to a leader."
Prilicla caught a brief, complex burst of emotion whose meaning was
unmistakable, composed as it was of the strange combination of yearning,
tenderness, and a feeling of grief over the impending loss of someone with whom
one was deeply and emotionally involved. They were the feelings, he felt sure,
of and for a life-mate.
"Believe me," said Prilicla, "you will be together again soon."
"I don't believe you," said Irisik, "or anything else that you or the other meat
gatherers say to me."
"I understand," said Prilicla, "so I shall instruct my meat gatherers, as you
insist on calling them, not to speak to you at all. You and the other sources of
meat may talk to each other if and when either of you wish. The charge nurse
will continue to administer food, medication, and to periodically check on your
condition and that of the others, but without speaking to you..."
"Good," said Naydrad, rippling its fur. "I hate being called a liar, especially
when my people don't even know what a lie is."
"... until, that is," he ended, "you ask to speak to us. All other members of
the medical staff including myself will leave you now."
Irisik was radiating surprise, confusion, and uncertainty. It said, "I know you
aren't telling the truth, but your lies are inter-esting and I want to listen to
more of them before I am killed. Please stay."
"No," said Prilicla firmly. "Until you believe that you are being told the
truth, including the truth that we mean no harm to you, your people, or your
world and the animal life here, we will not speak again. And remember, I know
exactly how you are feeling about everything from moment to moment, and it is
im-possible to lie with the emotions. When I feel that you are ready to believe
me, I shall speak with you again."
He led Murchison and Danalta into the communications room where Fletcher,
displaying the symptoms of Earth-human elevated blood pressure, was glaring at
them from the viewscreen. His two assistants were bursting to speak, but the
captain got its question in first.
"Doctor," it said, "this is an unnecessary waste of time. I know the feelings of
a person of your medical seniority and emo-tional sensitivity must be hurt at
being treated as a liar. You wouldn't be human—I'm sorry, I mean Cinrusskin—if
you didn't feel angry about that six-legged doubting Thomas. But I'm
sure that with a little more patience and forbearance on your part you will be
able to convince it that..."
"I know its present feelings, friend Fletcher," Prilicla broke in, "well enough
to know that I won't be able to change them. It is a strong-minded, stubborn
entity who considers itself to be one of the many victims around it who are
shortly to be termi-nated and eaten. It won't believe us, but hopefully our
other so-called victims will be able to disabuse it and the other spider
patients of that idea."
"Very quickly, I hope," Fletcher said, its features losing some of their high
color. "If there is a sustained attack lasting more than thirty-six hours, the
screen will go down. Before then we will have to make a main-drive takeoff and
crisp a few hundred spiders. That is not the Federation's idea of making
friendly contact with another intelligent, if temporarily mis-guided, species.
All our careers are on the line here, apart from the psychological trauma we'll
suffer if things go that badly wrong."
"Yes, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, feeling the other's tor-tured, emotional
radiation all the way from the ship and trying to do something about it. "But
there is a precedent. This is on a smaller, less bloody scale, but remember what
happened when Sector General was caught in the middle of the Federation-Etlan
War. Due to massive overcrowding the casualties from both sides were treated in
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the same ward. There is a close similarity to our present situation."
"Is there," said the captain, its mind obviously contemplat-ing a future where
all was desolation. Irritably it added, "I wasn't there, Doctor, and it wasn't a
war. It was a large-scale police action."
Prilicla well remembered that vicious and incredibly violent battle which had
been waged around Sector General, when six of the Federation's sector subfleets
including three of its capital ships had opposed a much heavier force from the
Etlan Empire, whose ruler had fed his people totally wrong information about the
other side. He didn't want to argue with the captain who, like the rest of its
Monitor Corps colleagues, were touchy about the fact that their organization
comprised the greatest assemblage of military might that the galaxy had ever
known.
But Prilicla had been there and it had certainly felt like a war.
CHAPTER 35
The sun shone down on the golden beach, the white, lacy edge of the deep-blue
sea, and on the many ships assembling around the island that were continually
launching their gliders. Apart from a small working party of spiders who were
engaged in transferring odd pieces of Terragars equipment to the beach, there
was no ground activity visible, but the aerial bombardment was unceasing.
Instead of carrying an armed passenger as payload, the glid-ers were loading up
with the equivalent weight in rocks, climbing to an altitude of about two
thousand meters and dropping them on the med station. More often than not, their
aim was wide of the mark, but on the off-chance that some of those ridiculously
unsophisticated missiles would pierce the flimsy structures, in-juring or
killing the patients or team members inside, the me-teorite shield had had to be
deployed. Everyone was safe for the time being, but that time was limited.
Another battle, verbal rather than physical, was raging be-tween the spider
patients and the other occupants of the recovery ward. Apart from Naydrad, that
was, who had turned off its translator and whose fur was moving in gentle,
restful waves while it watched the medical monitors in case the various blood
pressures rose above acceptable safety limits. And in the com-
munications room yet another and more polite war of words was raging between the
other members of the medical team and Cap-tain Fletcher and his crew.
"We can't understand why you're waiting, Doctor," the cap-tain said as it
restated the position in unnecessarily simple lan-guage for the recorders.
"Plainly your idea isn't working. We now have shield power for less than
twenty-one hours' duration. With no power to spare for pressor beams to lift us
to an area of sea that is clear of ships, it will have to be an environmentally
un-friendly takeoff on main thrusters. The vegetation on this half of the
island, not to mention the spiders and their ships, will be toast. Go in and
explain the scientific facts of life to Irisik and the spider pilot, now that it
has regained consciousness. I know this is a hard decision for both of us to
make, Doctor, but we can't sacrifice Rhabwars crew and the Trolanni patients by
letting a bunch of misguided spiders overrun and kill us."
It softened its tone, and in spite of the distance separating them, Prilicla
could feel the other's determination overriding its reluctance to cause
emotional distress to an empathic friend as it went on. "You have the medical
rank in the present situation, Doctor, but in this instance I am disputing it.
So tell your spider patients, as gently but firmly as you can, that they are not
to be eaten but they must leave us and return to their vessels at once before
they, and the crews of the ships along the beach, die in the fires we will light
during our takeoff. You can move the in-jured glider pilot in one of your
litters, with the power unit and circuitry set for a non-catastrophic
self-destruct shortly after they reach their ships. For a pre-space age species
they've already been contaminated with too much advanced technology as it is."
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla gently, "please don't be feel-ing so
uncomfortable about your threat to depose the senior medical officer during a
medical emergency, and do nothing hasty. Irisik is one cynical spider and I have
a strong feeling, amounting to a virtual certainty that it wouldn't believe
anything I told it, which is why I shall tell it nothing and allow what it
thinks are the other sources of food to do the talking. Please wait, watch the
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ward vision pickup, and listen... ."
Naydrad had just finished its round of patient observations and had curled its
caterpillar-like body into its relaxer frame in front of the monitor screens
when the silence was broken by one of the Terragar casualties.
"Charge Nurse," it said, "I'm starving to death."
"Your self-diagnosis is not confirmed by the monitor read-ings," Naydrad
replied. "Considering the fact that your lower ambulatory limbs are missing and
your food requirements are proportionately reduced, terminal malnutrition would
only oc-cur if fluids as well as food were to be withheld for twenty-plus
standard days. Lunch will be in three hours. Until then, compose yourself and
try to think beautiful thoughts."
"He can't think beautiful thoughts," another one of the Ter-ragar casualties
joined in, "and neither can I, because Pathologist Murchison hasn't been in for
nearly three days. I like her around even if the spiders are keeping her from
dunking us in the ocean ..."
The other Earth-human patients radiated feelings of ap-proval and minor
disappointment while making whistling sounds that did not translate.
"... but why," it ended, "won't she come in and talk to us?"
Unable to lie, Naydrad elected to remain silent.
"Among my people," said Irisik, speaking for the first time that day, "it is
considered socially indelicate, unless the entity concerned is a close family
relation or a loved one, to hold a lengthy conversation with what is in effect
one's next meal. To do such a thing would unsettle the emotions as well as the
di-gestion, and this one is delicate in its handling of your feelings. After
all, your two walking limbs are missing and yet you feel no hostility towards
it, the person who ate them. Or is it a religious thing with you, and you know
that the food you contribute in this way enables part of your being to survive
into the indefinite future?"
"No!" said the Terragar casualty, radiating irritation and impatience. "It isn't
religious. She doesn't eat intelligent enti-ties. .. ."
"But all living creatures have intelligence," Irisik broke in. "Are you saying
that it eats only vegetation?"
"No," said the other. "Meat is eaten, not frequently, and only when it
originates from beings of very low intelligence."
"Like you?" asked Irisik in a disparaging voice. After a mo-ment, it went on.
"But who sets the level of intelligence for ed-ibility? You yourself do not
appear to be of very low intelligence, so I suspect that a process of mental
persuasion, perhaps rein-forced by the use of mind-altering poisons rather than
a spiritual belief in survival after death, is used to hide from you your status
as a food animal. The mental persuasion must be both subtle and strong if it can
make you, an apparently young and healthy per-son whose body has already been
partially eaten, argue on behalf of your eater.
"My own mind," it added, "would not be so easily influ-enced, especially by
another member of my own species."
"But my legs weren't eaten, dammit," the other replied. "They were cooked,
maybe, but definitely not eaten. I was there and remember exactly what happened
to them."
"They might look like outsized druuls," said Keet, joining the conversation,
"but we know that they don't eat people, they repair them."
"Or perhaps you only believe that you know what hap-pened," Irisik went on,
"because mental influence or chemicals have been used to influence you into
thinking that way. It is natural among civilized beings to conceal the true
facts from their prey so that they will not dwell unnecessarily on their fate,
and remain content until the ultimate moment." It swiveled its head towards the
Trolanni patient. "Food appearance and presenta-tion are important. Repairing
its wounds, so as to avoid the pos-sibility of a premature death, is a sensible
course if the food is to live and remain fresh until the time for consumption
arrives.
There is no reason why living food should be made to suffer unnecessarily."
Prilicla felt a brief eruption of fear and uncertainty from the two Trolanni
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which they controlled and negated within a few seconds. From its litter, Jasam
said weakly, "When a bunch of outsized druuls tried to tether and board our
searchsuit, we had the same idea. But the others who came along later placed
them-selves in great personal danger while retrieving the first group and
learning to communicate with us and repairing our injuries. Plainly they were
taking far too much trouble, when we had time to think about it, for a very
meager addition to their food supply. As a species we are deeply frightened
about our future survival, and these druul-like creatures and the others from
their two ships have promised to help us to solve your problems, but we have no
fears regarding our survival as individuals. Neither should you."
Irisik paused before replying. "You say that you and your captors have walked
the web between the stars, in ships with structures so hard that they have been
neither woven nor grown, and that you have the knowledge to make and use many
won-drous tools to build and repair these vessels and the sailors who fly in
them. By your standards we Crextic are not educated. But I know the difference
between education and intelligence and, with respect, an educated person can
also be gullible."
Keet lost its patience. "I know that skepticism is supposed to be a sign of
intelligence, but this is ridiculous. You are a sea-going spider who disbelieves
people who have sailed among the stars. It's a waste of time trying to make you
see sense because you probably haven't got any. Your mind is tightly closed."
The growing irritation and impatience from both Trolanni did not quite blot out
the quieter, more complex emotional ra-diation coming from Irisik. The Crextic's
mind was beginning to suffer from the first stirrings of self-doubt.
For an instant Prilicla wondered if he should go in and join the conversation,
then decided against it. A phrase used by Chief
Dietitian Gurronsevas back at the hospital came to him, regard-ing the
preparation of food. He would let Irisik stew in its own juices for a while. He
could feel growing uncertainty and a need to ask questions, but decided to wait
for Irisik to voice them.
Keet left its litter and and moved quickly to the row of the Terragar
casualties.
"There is something that Jasam and I must say to you," it began. "It is an
apology for the way that our searchsuit defense systems caused you to be burned
and lose limbs. We could not believe that anyone who looked like a druul could
want only to help us, but we were wrong. We ask your forgiveness and, if and
when we return to Trolann, we offer help with the replacement of the burned
limbs. Our technology on the interfacing of organic and inorganic materials is
advanced. Your metal limbs would be linked to the relevant nerve connections to
produce the sensa-tions of pressure, touch, and temperature you knew in the
past, although possibly not with the former degree of sensitivity, and be
visually indistinguishable from the missing ones. Your fellow officers on
Rhabwar, who have had firsthand experience of our searchsuit technology, will
confirm this. Unless you have psy-chological or religious objections to ..."
"We haven't," said one of the casualties.
"Could they be made four or five inches longer than the old ones?" asked
another, and explained, "I've always wanted to be tall as well as handsome."
The third made a derogatory sound that did not translate, and gradually the
conversation became increasingly general, se-rious, and animated as Keet, Jasam,
and the Terragar casualties talked about their respective futures.
When Irisik tried to join in, it was pointedly ignored. Its emotional radiation,
Prilicla noted with satisfaction, was reveal-ing a strange mixture of growing
indecision and increasing cer-tainty.
"... I know that the druul are not nice people," one of the Terragar casualties
was saying, "but the Federation won't..."
"Not nice?" Keet broke in. "They are vicious, cunning, im-placable, depraved
vermin who want only to kill and, if possible, eat, everyone and everything who
is not a druul. And they have been known to eat their own casualties rather than
waste time and resources in treating them. They should be wiped out,
ex-terminated down to the last member of their merciless and mur-derous
species."
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"... As I was saying," the Earth-human went on, "the Fed-eration will not
instruct its Monitor Corps to exterminate a whole species just on your say-so,
and they know that we wouldn't do it if they did. That would make us as
uncivilized and savage as you say they are. Instead they will investigate the
druul and—"
"Maybe you have sympathy, a fellow feeling towards them," Jasam broke in,
radiating sudden suspicion, "because they look so very much like you. People can
give sympathy, kindness, and even affection towards pets or dolls or smaller
editions of them-selves. Until they turn vicious which, believe me, they will."
"I do believe you," said the other, "but we're talking about an intelligent
species here. We have no right to destroy them. The Federation will subject them
to a covert sociological and psychological assessment. If they are as blindly
antisocial as you say, they will almost certainly be isolated on their home
planet to survive as best they can, fight each other to mutual extinction, or
demonstrate to us over a lengthy period that they have learned sense and are on
the way to true civilization, in which case we would help them as we are
planning to help you."
The two Trolanni were silent, angry, and disappointed, but their more subtle
feelings were rendered unreadable because of the buildup of emotional radiation
coming from Irisik. But it, too, remained silent as the Monitor Corps officer
continued speaking.
"Your people will also be assessed," it went on, "but as a technologically
advanced star-traveling species, that will be a for-mality. Over the past
century we have discovered several planets, as fresh and clean and unpolluted as
this one and without indigenous intelligent life, that would suit your
requirements. Consid-ering the relatively few Trolanni remaining on your dying
home world, transportation for yourselves, and your personal posses-sions and
technical support hardware, would be no problem... ."
Feelings of pride and enthusiasm suffused the words like a bright, emotional fog
as it went on. "... We have Emperor-class capital ships—technically, vessels of
war although they haven't been used as such since the Etlan police action. Their
beam weap-ons will clear large areas of ground for building and cultivation, and
colonization transports and specialist officers to advise on moving your
population to a new, clean world. We will help you while you are getting
established, but not too much because tak-ing over the responsibility completely
would be psychologically undesirable. You might become overly dependent on us
rather than independent. That's an important part of the Federation's
first-contact philosophy. And you can forget about the druul. Unless they begin
to show evidence of civilized behavior they won't be going anywhere."
"But wait," said Jasam, radiating sudden worry. "You're talking about moving a
planetary population. You will need very big ships."
"Don't worry," said the other, "we have big ships."
While they had been speaking, the pressure of Irisik's emo-tional radiation had
been building up to the point where angry words would be its only release.
Prilicla knew to the split second when it would speak.
"You are talking and behaving as if I am not here," it said furiously. "It is
not easy for me to say this, for I am a person of rank and influence among my
fishing clan, but there is a possi-bility that I have misunderstood the
situation and I wish to speak to all of you about that."
"They may not wish to speak to you," said Naydrad, break-ing its long silence,
"or even listen to you."
The Crextic glider pilot, who was still post-operatively debilitated from its
recent major surgery but was otherwise recov-ering well, spoke for the first
time.
Slowly and weakly it said, "Irisik is the mate of our clan's Krititkukik, our
senior captain and fleet commodore. As such she is rarely placed in a position
where it is necessary for her to apologize for anything, but she is trying to do
so now. She is an independent, strong-willed, intelligent, and abrasive person
who must be finding the process of apologizing very difficult."
"Cloud-walker," said Irisik sharply, "your tone lacks re-spect. Be quiet or, or
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I'll bite your head off."
"Promises," said the pilot softly.
Prilicla concurred. Judging by Irisik's emotional radiation it was finding it
very difficult to apologize, but not impossible. Now was the time for him to
rejoin them and, so far as the Crextic patients were concerned, start laying
down Federation law and telling them the unpleasant truth—possibly more
unpleasant than their earlier personal fear of being eaten—about their pres-ent
situation. But the spider had come to a crucial decision, and from the dialogue
that was developing and the accompanying emotional radiation, Prilicla knew what
it was. He was flying slowly and happily into the recovery ward when the captain
spoke urgently from the communicator.
"Doctor," it said, "the heavies have arrived. Three Monitor Corps cruisers, the
cultural contact vessel Descartes and Sector Marshal Dermod's flagship
Vespasian, no less. He has been ap-praised of our situation but says,
regrettable as it is, that we must not risk jeopardizing the successful Trolanni
contact by allowing them and our other casualties to be killed due to our
bungled contact with the Crextic. The sector marshal says we must on no account
sacrifice our own people and two members of an intel-ligent, star-traveling
species. It says that it was a difficult decision but he had to make it. We are
ordered to move all casualties to Rhabwar, warn off the spiders, and take off
forthwith."
Prilicla's flight path wavered for a moment, then steadied as
he said, "Right now that would be very inconvenient, friend Fletcher. Please
tell the sector marshal that our second contact with the Crextic is ongoing and
at a delicate stage which must not be interrupted by a hasty evacuation, and
remind it that this is predominantly a medical emergency, with all that
implies."
"But, but you can't say that, dammit," the captain burst out. "Not to a sector
marshal!"
"Be diplomatic," said Prilicla, resuming his flight.
CHAPTER 35
Prilicla flew into the recovery ward and hovered above and between the lines of
patients. He was noticed but ignored. Considering the conversation that was
taking place between Irisik and Keet he could live with the delay, for a while.
". .. It seems that I have been completely wrong in my as-sessment of this
situation," Irisik was saying, "and when they learn about it the Crextic will be
grateful for the healing that was done for us here. But these healers are
strange creatures, not unfriendly but still frightening. I don't know how long
it would take, if ever, for us to come to like them...."
"Dr. Prilicla," the captain broke in. "The sector marshal rejects your
suggestion and orders an immediate return of the medical team and casualties to
Rhabwar. We can warn the Crextic to move clear before taking off, and hope they
heed the warning. I'm sorry, Doctor. Start evacuating your casualties at once."
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "please ask the ..." At that point one of his
Educator tape donors, a straight-talking Kelgian, slipped suddenly to the
forefront of his mind and he ended, "We've begun to make good progress here, so
tell Sector Marshal Dermod to stay the hell out of my fur!"
"... You've said that your home world is poisoned and dy-ing and that there
aren't many Trolanni left on it," Irisik was saying. "Here there are many
islands, particularly those close to the polar continents where high seas and
treacherous currents make them dangerous for plant and animal cultivation but
which you, with your greater knowledge and machines, could use. So why go to
another and perhaps less suitable world when you would be welcomed here?
"You bear a closer physical resemblance to the Crextic than these others," it
went on, "so that even the most intellectually timid among us would have no
difficulty in accepting you as strange but helpful neighbors. You Trolanni would
be too few in numbers to threaten us and your knowledge is too valuable for us
to waste it by hurting you...."
"That," said one of the Terragar casualties, using one of its obscure
Earth-human sayings, "would be like killing the geese that lay golden eggs."
Prilicla was well pleased at the way things were going, but it was a time to be
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tough and, to use another Earth-human ex-pression, tell the Crextic a few home
truths.
".. . If you have an ethical problem with this," Irisik con-tinued, "as we would
have if the positions were reversed, think of it as paying ground rent, or a
simple exchange of knowledge for a peaceful and pleasant living space. In time
we would learn fully to understand and trust each other, and in more time you
could show us how to harvest the metals that you have said lie deep beneath our
surface, and work them into machines which will enable the Crextic one day, as
these others do, to walk the web between the stars...."
"Doctor!" the captain's voice broke in urgently. "Look at your ward repeater
screen. All the Crextic vessels are launching their gliders and ground forces.
Get your med team and casualties back to to Rhabwar. Now, Doctor."
Prilicla looked at the repeater screen which showed spiders pouring out of the
nearer ships and forming up on the beach while their gliders were moving in
thermal-seeking circles above the hot sand as they strove for height. He felt
sure, but not very
sure, that the Crextic would wait until more force arrived and that an attack
wasn't imminent.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, "if you've been listening you'll know that we are
making good progress ..."
"Not to all of it," the captain broke in. "We're too busy here readying the ship
for a hot blastoff. But everything said was and is being relayed to Vespasian.
We've no time to retrieve the build-ings and non-portable equipment, so just get
your people out of there."
".. . and it would be a major crime to throw it away," Pril-icla continued, as
if the other had not spoken. "Neither, I feel sure, would it favorably impress
our Trolanni friends if we were to burn all the nearby Crextic ships and many
hundreds of sailors just to save the lives of a few patients and medical staff."
"So we are to be killed—" Irisik began, its anger and dis-appointment
outweighing its personal fear. "You lied to us."
"... You will now have realized, friend Fletcher, that the ward translator is on
and our conversation is open," he said, then continued briskly. "Naydrad, use
the robots to help you move the Trolanni and Earth-human casualties to Rhabwar.
Please link my translator to the ship's external speaker system. The Crextic
patients and I are going out and will try to talk some sense into their
Krititkukik. Murchison, Danalta, set the other Crextic litters and restraints
for remote control and quick release on my com-mand, then assist Naydrad with
the other patient transfers."
"No, sir," said Murchison, radiating feelings that were a strange combination of
affection, respect, and downright mutiny. It glanced towards the shape-changer
who twitched its upper body in assent, and added, "We are staying with you."
"As will I," said Keet.
He knew from the intensity of their emotional radiation that he could not make
them change their minds. There were occa-sions, he thought gratefully, when
insubordination had its place. It was obvious that the captain thought otherwise
and was voicing its feelings without the usual verbal niceties.
"Are you losing your mind entirely, Doctor?" it said angrily. "And have you no
control at all over your medical staff? Explain our situation to your spider
patients, urge them to pass it on to their friends, and tell them that they will
all die if they don't move away fast. And don't dare go outside. The meteorite
shield has been withdrawn to support the launch system...."
Prilicla turned down the volume on his headset and ad-dressed the Crextics.
"We have no intention of eating or harming any of you," he said while the irate
voice of the captain muttered in the back-ground, "and you have a choice. You
are free to go with the other casualties to the safety of our ship. Or leave
here now with me, to rejoin your friends and help me convince them that I am
telling the truth. If we can't do that, then we and many hundreds of them will
be burned to death.
"The next attack is about to begin so there isn't much time to stop it," he went
on as he took control of the spider pilot's litter. "I am asking for an
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immediate meeting with your Kritit-kukik and will explain the situation to you
as we move out-side. ..."
Although the preparations for the attack were continuing, the Krititkukik came
out to meet them without hesitation. It was a responsible commander, Irisik
insisted, who preferred to win a battle with the minimum possible butcher's
bill. But it was still at a distance when the pathologist drew his attention to
a differ-ence in its appearance. A tubular collar into which variously-colored
twigs and vegetation had been woven was encircling its long, thin neck.
"It wasn't wearing that when I met it on its ship," said Murchison. "Is it an
insignia of rank?"
"No," said Irisik.
The spider's emotional radiation was far from unpleasant but it was so intense,
poignant, and deeply personal that it made Prilicla waver in flight. Similar
feelings were reaching him from
the approaching Krititkukik. Considering the intimate nature of those feelings,
he did not expect Irisik to elaborate, but it did.
"It is the Collar of First Mating," it said through a surge of emotion, "worn by
the male as self-protection and as a compli-ment to his partner's sexual ardor
which could and might be aroused to the point where the female loses control and
bites off her mate's head. There have been no cases reported for many centuries,
and now it is worn only twice. On the night of first mating as a promise of the
life of loving to come, and when the life of one aged partner or the other is
about to end in gratitude for the life and loving that has gone before."
The effect of its words on the females Murchison and Keet, and on the male
subject of the discussion, Krititkukik, forced Prilicla to drop to the sand
before he was forced to make an undignified crash-landing. Again, as he had done
in the ward, he allowed Irisik and Keet, with a little help from the
recuperating glider pilot and the other two Crextic casualties, to make the
conversation run while he monitored the emotional radiation of all concerned.
The Krititkukik was a highly intelligent being whose cre-dence was not won
easily, but when it was an equally intelligent and much-loved life-mate who was
leading the attack on the basis of all its hard-held beliefs, the battle,
although lengthy, was lost from the start.
Finally it said, "Suppose I believe you, Irisik, which is what I would like to
do; the sailors of the other Krititkukikii assembled on and around this island
may not. They want to kill the strang-ers, no matter what the cost, to keep more
of them from coming and eating our people. . .."
"You saw what happened to me when I crashed into their invisible shield," the
glider pilot broke in. "They don't eat people, they make them well again. Look
at what they did for me."
"We made the same mistake at first," Keet joined in, "when the strangers tried
to help rescue us from our wrecked ship. But they healed my life-mate, who was
in a much worse condition than your glider pilot, and now both of them will
live. And we certainly don't want to eat spiders. Irisik has invited the few of
my species who are left to join you on your beautiful, unspoiled world, and in
return we will teach you, in the years or the cen-turies to come, how to leave
it and walk the star web that connects it to the other worlds, in peace and
prosperity...."
"Yes, yes," said the Krititkukik, its level of resistance drop-ping but not
quite to zero. "Irisik and you and the tall, soft, lumpy one who escaped from my
ship have already told me all of this, many times. But it is like a story told
to please young children, full of good things that are not real. And like
children you have tried to frighten us with threats of a great fire when your
ship lifts into the sky if we do not behave. Why should we believe you? You have
helped a few of my people, including my life-mate, and promised great things for
the future, and threat-ened much death and devastation now when your great ship
with its invisible shields rises into the sky, but the strangers face no
punishment for not telling us the truth and risk nothing and . .."
"We risk our lives," said Prilicla, breaking in gently. He indicated the
disturbance in the sand that had shown the surface limits of the meteorite
shield and went on, "We no longer have protection. You can kill us now and we
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could do nothing to stop you. But if you don't call off your attack we will be
burned to death with all of your people on this beach. Think about that,
Krititkukik, and about the reasons we have given you for this risk we are
taking, and believe what we say."
Prilicla could feel the other's growing uncertainty, but there was no indication
of immediate hostile action being planned. He went on. "Why don't you test the
truth of what I'm saying with your weapon?"
"Doctor, this is madness!" Fletcher's broke in. The other must have been
shouting for its voice to sound so loud, consid-ering the reduced gain on
Prilicla's headset. "I'm going to pull you in with tractor beams before you get
everyone killed. I mean all of you, including the Crextic casualties—that way we
can save a few of them though they probably won't love us for it... ." Its tone,
although still loud, softened a little. ". . . The transfer will be sudden, and
will be very rough on you physically, Doctor, but you are, after all, heading
back to the best hospital in the galaxy for treatment. ..."
It broke off again as a more authoritative but quieter voice— too quiet for
Prilicla to distinguish the individual words—broke in, then the captain went on.
"Sir? But, but you can see that an attack is developing as we speak. I
understand, sir. No action on my part unless expressly ordered by you."
Prilicla didn't ask for clarification because the situation around him was at
too delicate a stage. He felt the sudden agi-tation of Keet and the medical-team
members as the Krititkukik unlimbered its crossbow and loosed a single bolt,
which flew through the intervening space unhindered until it clattered against
the wall of the med station and fell onto the sand. The crossbow was replaced
and it raised its speaking trumpet. First it spoke to the gliders circling above
them, then to the sailors as-sembling on the beach. But this time their
translators were online so that they could understand as well as hear everything
it was saying.
All of the Crextic ground forces and gliders were being or-dered to cease
offensive actions and return without delay to their ships, with the exception of
one aircraft which was instructed to gain altitude so that it could perform the
signal aerobatic that would transmit the same message to the more distant ships
and aircraft. The relief of the people all around bathed Prilicla in a bonfire
glow of friendship and warmth, but again there was one exception.
"There is disagreement," the Krititkukik said. "More than a quarter of the
Crextic assembled here are little more than pi-rates, violent, unsubtle people
with whom we normally would have no dealings. But they are influencing the
others. In an effort to convince them of your good feelings for all of the
Crextic, I told them that your ship was defenseless, but that if they attacked
and forced it to leave, it would kill many hundreds of us as it went. The
cloud-walkers' signals are of necessity short, simple, and incapable of carrying
closely reasoned arguments. This un-civilized element disbelieves me and they
intend to press home their attack, very soon."
With its words the bright, warm emotional cloud of pleasure and relief coming
from the people surrounding him congealed suddenly into a dark, icy cloud of
fear and angry disappointment. For the first time in his life, Prilicla could
think of nothing that he could say that would help relieve their emotional
distress. Even though it must have heard the Kritikukik's words on Rhabwar's
aural sensors, friend Fletcher, too, was silent or at a loss for words.
But the silence was not complete. There was a faint growling sound, so deep that
was felt in the bones as well as being heard through the ears, that seemed to be
coming from everywhere and nowhere. From the top of its shapeless body Danalta
extruded an ear that resembled a fleshy dish-antenna, and shortly after-wards
grew a hand with one upwardly-pointing digit. They fol-lowed its direction and
looked up.
Vespasian was making a slow and increasingly thunderous approach.
The Monitor Corps' Emperor-class battleships were unable to land on a planetary
surface because of the complex antennae, weapon mounts, and other structural
projections sprouting from a hull so vast that, even at an altitude of several
miles it looked like another shining metal island, except this island was
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floating on its four ravening underlets. Looking tiny beside the vast capital
ship, its escort of three cruisers traced wide, fiery circles around it, their
thunder sounding falsetto by comparison.
Ponderously avoiding the spider ships in the area, Vespasian closed on the bay
and dropped to less than one thousand meters' altitude, its underlets exploding
the surface of the sea into daz-zling white clouds of steam that boiled upwards
to almost ob-
scure its vast underside and making it seem that it was riding on self-generated
clouds.
For a few moments it hung there, the incredibly loud, hiss-ing thunder making it
impossible for anyone to hear themselves or anyone else speak. Then it withdrew,
again avoiding the spider ships in the area as it began a rapid ascent
spacewards, accom-panied by its cruiser escorts. When the noise reduced to
some-thing less than deafening, a new voice sounded over Rhabwars external
speakers.
It said, "Dr. Prilicla, Sector Marshal Dermod. I have found that a prior show of
police force can often avert a riot by forcing the rioters to calm down and see
sense. I am now returning my ships to orbit and withdrawing their sound
pollution so as to give everyone down there a chance to talk together which,
with your help and a little more of your creative insubordination, I'm sure they
will.
"You have done very well, Dr. Prilicla," it ended. "Very well indeed."
CHAPTER 36
By the evening of the following day, the majority of the Crextic vessels had
withdrawn from the island to return to their various homelands, the exceptions
being the flagships of the Kri-titkukikii from every clan fleet, and their
advisors. During the days and weeks that followed, many gliders were continually
air-borne, flying at the cold, upper limits of their operational capa-bility as
they signaled the results of the talks that were going on in what had been the
medical station, to the other relay gliders farther afield.
There was plenty going on, although the negotiations be-tween the Federation's
cultural-contact specialists from Descartes and the Crextic representatives—but
strangely, not with the Tro-lanni, whom the spiders considered their new
friends—as often as not, resembled non-violent riots. But one of Sector Marshal
Dermod's cruisers kept station on the island, maintaining a dis-tance and
altitude that would not inconvenience the signaling gliders.
Only once, when it seemed that the negotiations might de-generate into physical
violence, did the sector marshal order it to make a low pass over the medical
station, to remind anyone who might be thinking of using muscle instead of mind,
where the real strength lay. Apart from the horrendous noise of its passage, no
spider injuries were sustained, and the Monitor Corps negotiators pointedly
ignored the incident, but thereafter the talking continued more peaceably.
For the ensuing three weeks Prilicla spent his every waking moment with them,
including the times when he had to eat, a process which startled but did not
disgust the spiders. When the cultural-contact specialists from Descartes
expertly plied their tri-di projections to illustrate and explain in detail the
organization and political ramifications of the Galactic Federation to the
Crex-tic—the two Trolanni present had already seen most of it—the spiders'
feelings reflected in turn incredulity, wonder, fear, and distrust. By
pinpointing the individual emotional radiation of the person concerned, he was
able to subtly guide the contact spe-cialist into a conversational area that the
other found more re-assuring.
Captain Fletcher was also content because a cargo shuttle, too small to do more
than scorch an insignificant area of sand on the beach, was plying between the
orbiting Vespasian and Rhabwar, carrying with the relays of cultural-contact
specialists the fuel cells and organic and engineering consumables that would
shortly result in a virtual refit and resupply of its beloved ambulance ship so
that it could again take off with a pressor-beam assist and not burn up half the
island as it left.
Then the day came when Prilicla knew that their work on the spider planet was
complete, because the supply shuttle touched down with no supplies on board
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since it carried instead no less a personage than Sector Marshal Dermod.
The dark green Monitor Corps uniform with its insignia of rank and quietly
impressive ribbons meant nothing to the Tro-lanni and Crextic gathered in what
had been the station's recov-ery ward, but the habit of command in its manner
said all that was necessary about it as a person—a person who meant exactly what
it said.
"My warmest compliments to everyone here who has been involved in successfully
concluding this epoch-making agreement between three different intelligent
species," it said. "Not only has there been it a first contact between the
Federation and the Trolanni, but a second contact with ourselves and the
Crextic, and another possible future contact with the druul-----"
It looked along the line of joined litters which served as a conference table
and raised a hand to quell an outburst from Keet and Jasam, then went on. "... I
know that you have already discussed this matter with my subordinate officers
and members of the medical team, but I am required to restate our position
officially. Federation law forbids us to exterminate any intelligent species,
regardless of the past and present evidence of their con-certed violence and
antisocial behavior towards others. Instead, a rigorous and lengthy
psychological and sociological assessment will be conducted regarding the
possibility of their reeducation. Should the findings go against them and, as
our Trolanni friends have insisted, they turn out to be nothing but intelligent
and amoral animals, they will not be exterminated. Instead their world will be
placed under Federation Interdict until they either become civilized, which
seems improbable, or they exterminate themselves.
"The Trolanni currently living among them," it went one, "will be evacuated and
transferred, at the invitation of the Crex-tic, to this planet to share a part
of it with them, and to cooperate in the future to the benefit of both species.
"Such an event as this has no precedent in the history of the Federation,"
Dermod continued, glancing up at the hovering Prilicla, "and we were worried in
case it did not succeed and we had the druul-Trolanni conflict repeat itself
here. But my em-pathic advisor assures me that the Crextic and Trolanni
feelings, based as they are on mutual help and future scientific and com-mercial
advantages, are honest and will be more long-lasting than any agreement based on
empty diplomacies. As a precaution we will observe the situation from orbit. If
the cultural contact fails, we will move the Trolanni to another planet which
has no sapient life-forms to oppose their resettlement, but I do not foresee
that
happening because this is a contact that the Crextic and the Tro-lanni both want
and need. At no time will we interfere in disputes which you are plainly capable
of solving yourselves, nor will we give unwanted technical help, because
psychologically that would be bad for both species. In time, perhaps not too
long a time as progressing cultures go, I can foresee the Trolanni and the
Crex-tic being welcomed into the Galactic Federation.
"But our more immediate plan," it went on briskly, "is to take Jasam and its
searchsuit back to Trolann to explain the sit-uation to its people, advise them
regarding the evacuation, and begin instructing our scientists regarding the
organic-cybernetic interface and the lifesuit technology they use for
self-defense. This will have important applications far beyond their use as
fully-sensitive limbs for amputees. Meanwhile Keet has elected to re-main here
with Irisik to prepare everyone concerned for the arrival of the first Trolanni
evacuees. The medical station will be left here for their use as will the
remains of Terragar. Both will be a constant reminder of the future that lies
ahead for both species.
"Rhabwar," it added, looking at Prilicla and then Captain Fletcher, "will return
to Sector General when convenient."
"Thank you, friend Dermod," said Prilicla.
"Doctor!" the captain said, its face deepening in color and its emotional
radiation reflecting shock and embarrassment. "You don't talk that way to a, to
a sector marshal!" To its superior officer, it went on quickly, "Please excuse
Dr. Prilicla, sir, it some-times takes friendly informality to excess. And yes,
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sir, we can leave within the hour."
"A degree of informality is acceptable," said the sector marshal, its eyes
turning towards Prilicla, "especially from someone who has achieved so much
here. I feel no insult at your mode of address, little friend, and your empathic
faculty is already telling you that, among other things...."
There was an unusual feeling of warmth and expectancy emanating from the sector
marshal that was characteristic of a
pleasure soon to be shared. It showed its teeth in the grimace Earth-humans
called a smile.
". . . Besides," it went on, "just before leaving for this meet-ing I received a
signal from Administrator Braithwaite at the hos-pital to say that you have been
appointed, or, more precisely, you have been elected unanimously to the rank of
Diagnostician. My warmest congratulations, friend Prilicla."
To Captain Fletcher it added dryly, "As I recall them, my words were 'when
convenient,' not 'as soon as possible.' One does not give orders to a Sector
General Diagnostician."
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