“There is still a fair degree of mobility in one of the forelimbs,” Conway said, “and, considering the advanced age and reduced mental adaptability, I feel that it should be left intact for psychological as well as physiological reasons. It may well be that the increased blood and available nutrient supply due to the absence of the other limbs will partially improve the muscle condition and circulation in this one. As you can see, the other forelimb has degenerated virtually to the point of necrosis and must be removed.
“Trainee Cha Thrat,” it added, “will perform the amputation.”
Suddenly they Were all looking at her, and for a moment Cha Thrat had the ridiculous feeling that she was in the center of a three-dimensional picture, frozen in this nightmare for all eternity. But the real nightmare lay a few minutes in the future, when she would be forced into a major professional decision.
Her partner from the ward vibrated its speaking mem-brane quietly. “This is a great professional compliment, Nurse.”
Before she could reply, the Diagnostician was speaking again, to everyone.
It said, “Cha Thrat is a native of a newly discovered world, Sommaradva, where it was a qualified surgeon. It has prior experience of other-species surgery on an Earth-human DBDG, a life-form that it had encountered for the first time only a few hours earlier. In spite of this, the work was skillfully done, Senior Physician Edanelt tells me, and undoubtedly saved the entity’s limb and probably its life. And now it can further increase its other-species surgical experience with a much less difficult procedure on an FROB.”
Encouragingly it ended, “Come forward, Cha Thrat. Don’t be afraid. If anythingshould go wrong, I will be here to help.”
There was a great, cold fear inside her mixed with the helpless anger of having to face the ultimate challenge without adequate spiritual preparation. But the Diagnostician’s concluding words, suggesting that her natural fear might somehow keep her from doing the work, filled her with righteous anger. It was a hospital ruler and, no matter how misguided and irresponsibile its orders to her had seemed, they would be obeyed — that was the law. And no Sommaradvan of the warrior class would show fear before anyone, and that included a group of other-species strangers. But still she hesitated.
Impatiently the Earth-human said, “Are you capable of performing this operation?”
“Yes,” she said.
Had it asked her if she wanted to perform the operation, Cha Thrat thought sadly as she moved toward the cradle, the answer would have been different. Then, jwith the incredibly sharp FROB Number Three cutter in her hand, she tried again.
“What,” she asked quickly, “is my precise responsibility in this case?”
The Earth-human took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then said, “You are responsible for the surgical removal of the patient’s left forelimb.”
“Is it possible to save this limb?” she asked hesitantly. “Can the circulation be improved, perhaps by surgical enlargement of the blood vessels, or by—”
“No,” said Conway firmly. “Please begin.”
She made the initial incisions and proceeded exactly as the others had done, without further hesitation or need of prompting by the Diagnostician. Knowing what was to happen, she suppressed her fear and steadfastly refused to worry about or feel the pain until the moment it would engulf her. She was utterly determined now to show this strange, highly advanced but seemingly nonre-sponsible medic how a truly dedicated warrior-surgeon of Sommaradva was expected to behave.
As she was inserting the last few staples into the flap covering the stump, the Diagnostician said warmly, “That was fast, precise, and quite exemplary work, Cha Thrat. I am particularly impressed by— What are you doingT’she thought that her intentions were obvious as soon as she lifted the Number Three cutter. Sommaradvan DCNFs did not possess forelimbs as such but, she thought proudly, the removal of a left-side medial limb would satisfy the professional requirements of the situation. One quick, neat slice was enough, then she looked at it lying in the container among the Hudlar limbs and gripped the stump tightly to control the bleeding.
Her last conscious memory of the episode was ofDiagnostician Conway shouting above the general uproar into the communicator.
“FROB lecture theater on the double,” it was saying urgently. “One DCNF, a traumatic amputation, self-inflicted. Ready the OR on Level Forty-three, dammit, and assemble a microsurgery team!”
CHAPTER 8
She could not be sure about the time required for her post-op recuperation, only that there had been lengthy periods of unconsciousness and a great many visits from Chief Psychologist O’Mara and Diagnosticians Thornnastor and Conway. The DBLF nurse assigned to her made caustic comments about the special attention she was receiving from the hospital’s hierarchy, the quantity of food she was moving for a supposedly sick patient, and about a newly arrived Nidian trainee whose furry little head had been turned by Cresk-Sar of all people. But when she tried to discuss her own case it was obvious from the Kelgian nurse’s agitated fur that that was a forbidden subject.
It did not matter because, by accident or design, the medication she was receiving had the effect of making her feel as if her mind was some kind of dirigible airship, moving at her direction but detached and floating free of all mundane problems. It was, she realized, a very comfortable but suggestible state.
During one of its later visits, O’Mara had suggested that, regardless of her reasons for acting as she had, she had discharged her particularly strict professional obligations, so that no further action was required on her part. The limb had been completely severed and removed from the torso. The fact that Conway and Thornnastor had together performed some very fancy microsurgery to reattach it, with no loss of function or feeling, was a piece of good fortune that she should accept gratefully and without guilt.
It had taken a long time to convince the wizard that she had already arrived at the same conclusion, and that she was grateful, not only for her good fortune, but to Diagnosticians Conway and Thornnastor for giving her back the limb. The only part of the incident that continued to puzzle her, she had told O’Mara, was the adverse reaction of everyone to the noble and praiseworthy thingshe had done.
O’Mara had seemed to relax then, and it had proceeded with a long, devious spell that involved subjects which Cha Thrat had considered too personal and sensitive to be discussed with a fellow Sommaradvan, much less a stranger. Perhaps it was the medication that reduced her feelings of shock and outrage, and made the suggestions of the wizard seem worthy of consideration rather than outright rejection.
One of its suggestions had been that, when viewed nonsubjectively, the action she had taken had been neither noble nor praiseworthy, but a little bit silly. By the end of that visit she almost agreed with it, and suddenly she was allowed visitors.
Tarsedth and the Hudlar trainee were the first callers. The Kelgian came bustling forward to ask how she was feeling and to examine her scars, while the FROB remained standing in silence just inside the entrance. ChaThrat wondered if there was anything bothering it, forgetting for the moment that her medication frequently caused her to vocalize her thoughts.
“Nothing,” said Tarsedth. “Just ignore the big softie. When I arrived it was outside the door, don’t know for how long, afraid that the mere sight of another Hudlar would give you some kind of emotional relapse. In spite of all thatmuscle, Hudlars are sensitive souls. According to what O’Mara told Cresk-Sar, you are unlikely to do anything sudden or melodramatic. You are neither mentally unbalanced nor emotionally disturbed. Its exact words were that you were normally crazy but not certifi-ably mad, which is the condition of quite a few people who work in this place.”