This time the Senior Physician went with her, explaining that, as she was a new life-form to the hospital, it had to ensure that her equipment functioned properly and comfortably. But in the event, it was the being waiting for them in the lock antechamber who immediately took charge and did all the talking.
“Cha Thrat,” it said briskly, “I am Charge Nurse Hredlichli, a PVSJ. Your protective envelope is in two pieces. Climb into the lower half, pulling on one leg at a time, in whichever order you find most convenient,using the heavier arms encircling your waist. Use the same four arms to pull on the top half, inserting the head; and four shoulder-mounted arms first. You will think that the limb end-sections are small, but this is to ensure a tight fit and maximum sensitivity for the digits. Don’t seal the waist joint until you know that your air supply is working. When you are sealed in, I’d show you the systems checks that must be performed at every dressing. Then you will remove the envelope and put it on again, repeating the process until we are both happy with your performance. Please begin.”
Hredlichli circled her, giving advice and directions during the first three dressings, and then seemed to ignore her while it talked to the Senior Physician. The spiney, membraneous body, looking like a haphazard collection of oily, unhealthy vegetation, was obscured by the yellow chlorine fog inside the being’s protective envelope. It was impossible to tell where the Charge Nurse’s attention was directed, because Cha Thrat had been unable to locate its eyes.
“We are seriously understaffed at present,” Hredlichli was saying, “with three of my best nurses on special post-op recovery cases to the exclusion of all else. Are you hungry?”
Cha Thrat felt that the question was for her, but was unsure of the type of answer to give — the subservient, self-negating reply expected by a ruler or the accurate, truthful kind due a warrior-level colleague. Ignorant as she was of Hredlichli’s exact status, she did her best to combine the two.
“I am hungry,” she replied, using the opportunity to test her suit’s communicator, “but the condition is not yet so advanced that it would impair me physically.”
“Good!” said Hredlichli. “As a junior-in-training you will soon discover that practically everyone and every-thing takes precedence over you. If this causes emotional tension, which may be expressed as verbal resentment or anger, try not to release it until you are out of my ward. You will be allowed to visit your dining hall, for a strictly limited period, as soon as someone returns to relieve you. And now I think you know how your suit works …”
Cresk-Sar turned toward the entrance. Lifting one tiny, hairy hand, it said, “Good luck, Cha Thrat.”
“… So we’ll go inside to the Nurses’ Station,” it went on, seeming to ignore the departing Nidian. “Double-check your suit seals and follow me.”
She found herself in a surprisingly small compartment that had one transparent wall giving a view into a dim green world where the difference between the inhabitants and the decorative vegetation designed to make them feel at home was unclear. The other three sides of the room were covered by storage units, monitor screens, and equipment whose purpose she could not even guess at. The entire ceiling was devoted to brightly colored signs and geometrical shapes.
“We have a very good staff and patient safety record in this ward,” the Charge Nurse went on, “and I don’t want you to spoil it. Should you damage your suit and be in danger of drowning, however, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation is not advisable between oxygen- and chlorine-breathers, so you must move quickly to one of the emergency air chambers marked so" — she indicated one of the ceiling designs—"and await rescue. But the accident, or should I say the serious inconvenience, that you must guard against is pollution by patient body wastes. Filtration or replacement of the water volume in a ward this size is a major maintenance operation that would hamper our work and get us talked about in derogatory fashion all over the hospital.”
“I understand,” Cha Thrat said.
Why had she come to this awful place, she wondered,] and could she justify to herself her immediate resignation? In spite of the warnings from O’Mara and Cresk-Sar that she would be starting at the lowest level, this was not work for a Sommaradvan warrior-surgeon. If word of what she was expected to do were to get back to her erstwhile colleagues, she would be forced into the life of a recluse. But these people were not likely to tell her people about it because, to them, such activities were so commonplace as to be unworthy of mention. Perhaps she would be found unsuitable or incompetent and dismissed from the hospital with this demeaning and unpleasant episode secret and her honor intact. But she was dreading what was coming next.
But it was not nearly as bad as she had expected.
“The patients usually know in advance when they need to evacuate,” Hredlichli went on, “and will call the nurse with time to spare. Should you be called for this purpose, the equipment you require is stored in the compartment with its door marked like this.” A frondlike arm appeared inside its protective envelope, pointing to another distinctively marked panel on the ceiling, then to its distant, brightly lit twin that shone through the green dimness of,the ward. It went on, “But don’t worry, the patient will know all about the operation of the equipment and will prefer to help itself. Most of them dislike using the thing, you’ll find that Chalders embarrass easily, and any who are not immobilized will prefer to use the room marked with that symbol. It is a long, narrow compartment barely large enough to contain one Chalder and is operated by the user. Extraction and filtration of the wastes is automatic, and if anything goes wrong it is a Maintenance problem.”
Hredlichli’s appendage rose again to point toward theconfusion of shapes at the other end of the ward. “If you need help with a patient, ask Nurse Towan. Most of its time is being spent with a seriously ill patient, so don’t distract it unnecessarily. Later today I shall instruct you on the Chalder optimum pulse rate, pressure, and body temperature, and how and where to obtain them. The vital signs are taken and recorded at regular intervals, the frequency depending on the condition of the patient. You will also be shown how to sterilize and dress surgical wounds, which is not a simple job on a water-breather, and in a few days you may be allowed to do it yourself. But first you must get to know your patients.”
The appendage was pointing at a doorless opening into the main ward. A sudden paralysis seemed to be affecting all twelve of Cha Thrat’s limbs, and she tried desperately to delay any movement by asking questions. “Nurse Towan,” she said. “What species is it?” “An AMSL,” the Charge Nurse replied. “A Creppel-lian octopoid, and Sector General qualified, so you have nothing to worry about. The patients know that we are being assigned a new-species trainee and are expecting you. Your body configuration is well suited to the water medium, so I suggest that you go in and begin by teaching yourself how to move about the ward.”
“Please, a further question,” Cha Thrat said desperately. “The AMSL is a water-breather. Why aren’t all of the medical attendants here water-breathers? Wouldn’t it be simpler if they were Chalders, the same species astheir patients?”
“You haven’t even met a patient and already you’re trying to reorganize the ward!” Hredlichli said, producing another appendage from somewhere and gesticulating with them both. “There are two reasons why we don’t do as you suggest. One is that very large patients can be effectively treated by small medics, and SectorGeneral was designed with precisely that situation in mind. The second is structural. Personnel accommodation and recreation space is at a premium here, and can you imagine how much of it would be taken up by the life-support requirements of, say, a basic medical and nursing staff of one hundred water-breathing Chalders?" But enough of this,” the Charge Nurse said impatiently. “Go into the ward and act as if you know what you’re doing. We’ll talk later. If I don’t go for lunch this instant, they’ll find me in a corridor dead from malnutrition …”