“Thank you, friend Fletcher,” Prilicla said, then joined the others who were silently watching the repeater screen.
The image of the slowly rolling and spinning ship had grown until it was brushing against the edges of the screen, when Murchison said, “The ship is undamaged, uncontrolled, and, the sensors tell us, there is no abnormal escape of radiation from its main reactor. That means their problem is likely to be disease rather than traumatic injuries, a disabling or perhaps lethal illness affecting the entire crew. Under illness I would include the inhalation of toxic gas accidentally released from—”
“No, ma’am,” said Fletcher, who had maintained the communicator link with Control. “Toxic contaminationof the air supply system on that scale would have showed up in our leak analyses. There’s nothing wrong with theirair.”
“Or,” Murchison went on firmly, “the toxic materialmay have contaminated their liquid or food supply, and been ingested. Either way, there may be no survivors and nothing for us to do here except posthumously investigate, record the physiology of a new life-form, and leave the rest to the Monitor Corps.”
The rest, Cha Thrat knew, would mean carrying out a detailed examination of the vessel’s power, life-support, and navigation systems with the intention of assessing the species’ level of technology. That might provide the information that would enable them to reconstruct the elements of the ship’s course before the disaster occurred and trace it back to its planet of origin. Simultaneously, an even more careful evaluation of the nontechnical environment — crew accommodation and furnishings, art or decorative objects, personal effects, books, tapes, and self-entertainment systems — would be carried out so that they would know what kind of people lived on the home planet when they succeeded in finding it, as they ultimately would.
And eventually that world would be visited by the Cultural Contact specialists of the Monitor Corps and, like her own Sommaradva, it would never be the same again.
“If there are no survivors, ma’am,” Fletcher said regretfully, “then it isn’t a job for Rhabwar. But we’ll only know when we go inside and check. Senior Physician, do you wish to send any of your people with me? At this stage, though, getting inside will be a mechanical rather than a medical problem. Lieutenant Chen and Technician Cha Thrat, you will assist me with the entry— Wait, something’s happening to the ship!”
Cha Thrat was very surprised that Fletcher wanted her to help with such important work, badly worried in case she might not be able to perform to his expectations, and more than a little frightened at the thought of what might happen to them when they got inside the distressed ship. But the feelings were temporarily submerged at the sight of what was happening on the screen.
The ship’s rate of spin and roll were increasing as they watched, and irregular spurts of vapor were fogging the forward and aft hull and the tips of the broad, triangular wings. She suffered a moment’s sympathetic nausea for anyone who might be inside the vessel and conscious, then Fletcher’s voice returned.
“Attitude jets!” it said excitedly. “Somebody must be trying to check the spin, but is making it worse. Maybe the survivor isn’t feeling well, or is injured, or isn’t familiar with the controls. But now we know someone is alive in there. Dodds, as soon as we’re in range, kill that spin and lock on with all tractors. Doctor Prilicla, you’re in business again.”
“Sometimes it’s nice,” Murchison said, speaking to nobody in particular, “to be proved wrong.”
While Cha Thrat was donning her suit, she listened to the discussion between the medical team members and Fletcher that, had it not been for the presence of the gentle little empath, would have quickly developed into a bitter argument.
It was plain from the conversation that the Captain was Rhabwar’s sole ruler so far as all ship operations were concerned, but at the site of a disaster its authority had to be relinquished to the senior medical person on board, who wasempowered to use the resources of the ship and its officers as it saw fit. The main area of con-tention seemea to oe me responsibility ended and Prilicla’s began.
The Captain argued that the medics were not, considering the fact that the distressed ship was structurally undamaged, on the disaster site until it got them into the ship, and until then they should continue to obey its orders or, at very least, act on its advice. Its advice was that they should remain on Rhabwar until it had effected an entry, because to do otherwise was to risk becoming casualties themselves if the injured or ill survivor — who had already made a mess of checking its ship’s spin with the attitude jets — decided to do something equally unsuccessful and much more devastating with the main thrusters.
If the medical team was waiting outside the distressed ship’s entry lock when thrust was applied, they would either be smashed against the hull plating or incinerated by its tail flare, and the rescue would be aborted because of a sudden lack of rescuers.
Fletcher’s reasons for wanting the medics to remain behind until the other ship had been opened were sound, Cha Thrat thought, even though they had given her a new danger to worry about. But the medical team had been trained for the fastest possible rescue and treatment of survivors, and they were particularly anxious not to waste time in this case when there might only be one. By the time she was leaving for the airlock, a compromise had been worked out.
Prilicla would accompany Fletcher, Chen, and herself to the ship. While they were trying to get inside, the empath would move up and down the outer hull and try to pinpoint the locations of survivors by their emotional radiation. The rest of the medical team would hold themselves ready for a fast recovery of casualties as soon as the way was open.
She had been waiting only a few minutes in the lock antechamber when Lieutenant Chen arrived.
“Good, you’re here already,” the Earth-human said, smiling. “Help me move our equipment into the lock, please. The Captain doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Without giving the impression that it was lecturing her, Chen discussed the purpose of the equipment they were moving from the nearby stowage compartment to the lock, so that Cha Thrat felt her level of ignorance was being reduced without the feelings of stupidity and inferiority that so often accompanied that process. She decided that the Earth-human was a considerate and helpful person, in spite of its rank, and one with whom she might risk a small insubordination.
“This is in no sense a criticism of the ship ruler,” she said carefully, “but I am concerned lest Captain Fletcher is giving me credit for more technical experience than I in fact possess. Frankly, I’m surprised it wanted me along.”
Chen made an untranslatable sound and said, “Don’t be surprised, Technician, of worried.”
“Regrettably,” Cha Thrat said, “I am both.”
For a few minutes the Lieutenant went on talking about the sections of portable airlock they were carrying that, when deployed and attached with fast-setting sealant around the entry port of the other ship’, would enable Rhabwar’s boarding tube to join the two vessels and allow the medics to do their work unhampered by space-suits.
“But rest your mind, Cha Thrat,” Chen went on. “Your maintenance chief, Timmins, spoke to the Captain about you. It said that you are pretty bright, learn quickly, and we should give you as much work to do as possible. We should do this because, once the FOKT’s accommodation was finished, you would havenothing to do and might fret. It said that, with your past performance in the hospital, the medical team wouldn’t allow you anywhere near one of their patients.”
It laughed suddenly and went on. “Now we know how wrong Timmins was. But we still intend to keep you busy. You have four times as many hands as I have, and I can’t think of a better tool-carrier. Do I offend you,Technician?”