“Right,” said Hewlitt. “But earlier you mentioned making contact…
“Padre Lioren and Patient Hewlett, an Earth-human DBDG, wish contact with the damaged part Cherxic,” it said into the communicator. “Is this possible, and convenient?”
The sound in his earpiece resembled a long, modulated burst of static which the translator reproduced as, “You are welcome, Lioren, as is the stranger Hewlitt. A short visit is possible. Please wait.”
The Padre moved closer to Hewlitt and joined him in looking down at one of the dead Telfi. When Lioren spoke there was sadness in its voice as it said, “The suffering and loneliness is long and there is little we can do to ease either, but the part Cherxic still lives.~~
After all that he had heard about this exotic, radiation-eating species, Hewlitt had not expected them to look so ordinary.
Apart from the extra set of forelimbs growing from the base of the neck, the Telfi resembled nothing so much as a large terrestrial lizard just under five feet long from bulbous head to vestigial tail. The body was lying on its stomach so that the two tiny, lidless eyes and the mouth, which was closed, were the only features visible. All four of the stubby walking limbs were bent double to lie flat against the body while the two, longer forward manipulators were stretched forward and crossed so as to allow the chin to rest on the crossover point. The skin was pale grey with a mottled and veined effect all over that made the body resemble a sculpture in unpolished marble.
Hewlitt felt the need to comment, and remembering that one should never speak ill of the dead, he said, “The, ah, skin color is interesting. Beautiful, in fact.”
“You must not say that to Cherxic when you meet it,” said the Padre sharply. “To a Telfi the pale skin is neither interesting nor beautiful, it is a symptom of advanced radiation starvation and a lethal failure of the absorption mechanism. You may touch it if the act is not repugnant to you. Rest your bare hand anywhere on the body surface.”
After putting his foot in his mouth with the remark about the cadaver’s beautiful skin, Hewlitt felt obliged to touch the body. Surprised, he said, “It’s very warm.
“It is no longer absorbing energy,” said the Padre, “and has risen to room temperature. Touching the top of the head with a slow, stroking motion worked best with Cherxic. Physical and verbal contact is a poor substitute for gestalt telepathy, but the patient appeared to derive some comfort from both.”
Hewlitt stopped with his hand still resting on the pale marble, lizard skull. “Wait right there,” he said. “I tried to ask this question earlier but you… Are you telling me that you actually laid your bare hand on Cherxic in the same way as you did when you felt Morredeth’s fur?”
“Yes,” said the Padre. “But there is no need to feel so excited about it. Physiologically the Telfi are not suitable hosts for the virus creature. It would be like trying to infect a nuclear reactor.”
A great light was beginning to dawn. Hewlitt said, “I told you already that the virus survived a close encounter with a nuclear detonation and, and the hospital’s reactor has been, well, very sick.”
The great light, he realized, was external as well as internal because the big, inner seal of the lock was swinging open to reveal the shape of a Telfi. Behind it there was another closed, transparent door that gave a view of the ship’s interior. He decided that it must be a very healthy Telfi, because in spite of the high level of illumination, it reflected no light at all. It and the others that he could see beyond the transparent seal were like so many mobile, lizardshaped black holes.
And every single Telfi that Hewlitt could see he recognized at once as being past, and one present, hosts of the virus creature.
There was a burst of modulated static as the one in the open lock moved closer and spoke.
“I am the part Cherxic,” it said. “Please touch me, my offworld brothers and benefactors, one at a time. Our ship will be returning to Telf very soon and there is important information that must be passed to you.”
CHAPTER 31
He watched as Cherxic moved between them and as the Padre, whose curiosity was greater or its cowardice less than Hewlitt’s, placed one uncovered medial hand on the Telfi’s head. Lioren’s body trembled for a moment although it did not seem to be in any distress. No words were spoken and he had still to learn how to read a Tarlan’s facial expression, so he had no idea what was going on. A few more minutes passed before the Padre lifted its hand away and it was his turn.
Unlike the body of the dead Telfi he had touched, the dense black skin of Cherxic felt cold, and there was a faint, warm tingling in his palm similar to the sensation he had felt when he had pressed his hand against Patient Morredeth’s damaged fur. But this time the tingling was moving up his arm, across his shoulder and into his head. For a moment his sensorium went wild as tiny, random sensations of warmth, cold, pressure, pleasure, and pain occurred all over his body, while bursts of color that were beyond his previous experience or imagination and odors familiar and utterly strange were flooding his senses.
For some odd reason the memory picture of his cat came into his mind, and the way it had circled and stamped gently with each paw in turn as it had tried to push his lap into a more comfortable shape before it curled up to sleep. Now something was pushing and probing at his mind, trying to make itself fit more comfortably, and it was both gentle and persistent.
Suddenly there was a great, soft explosion of knowledge.
Hewlitt was still running through his bright, newly acquired memories like an excited small child exploring a new playground when the virus creature retraced its path along his shoulder, arm, and palm to return to Cherxic. Without a word the Telfi left the lock chamber and the inner seal closed behind it.
There was nothing more to be said to it, they knew, and nothing left to ask.
They maintained their silence while Hewlitt followed the Padre as it guided the gravity litter containing the two Telfi cadavers through the boarding tube and into the hospital lock chamber. The seal had closed behind them and emitted a loud, double chime accompanied by a visual warning indicating that the Telfi vessel had broken the docking seals before Lioren spoke, and then it was into its communicator.
“Braithwaite? Lioren. I must speak to Major O’Mara. It’s urgent.”
“O’Mara,” said the voice of the chief psychologist. “Go on, Padre.”
“We are calling off the search,” said Lioren. “The last and only remaining host of the virus creature has been found. It is currently inhabiting a member of the Telfi gestalt whose ship is leaving as we speak. The vessel is to be given departure clearance without delay. And you can cancel the evacuation drills and disperse the waiting ships. The problem with the power-generation control systems is over and…
“I don’t see the connection,” O’Mara broke in sharply. “Are you trying to tell me there is one?”
“Yes,” said Lioren. “When two unusual events occur at the same time, the chances are that they have a common cause. I had forgotten that particular unwritten natural law and it was Hewlitt, not me, who made the connection. There is no longer any danger to anyone inside the hospital, either from a nuclear detonation or a cross-species contagion, and we will give you a full report as soon as we reach the department.”