“Proceed, friend Murchison,” he said, “and thank you.”
Gradually the close-range source of hatred, fear, and revulsion 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 communicator 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 indications 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 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 splintered 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 doing. 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 attempt 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 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 Educator tapes that had been impressed on his Cinrusskin mind contained 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 plumbing 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 Cinrusskin 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.