On the screen the individual strands of fur looked like the slim, curving trunks of palm trees that were being bent slowly apart to reveal the heavily wrinkled organic ground surface from which they grew. A blade appeared, looking incredibly massive under the high magnification, and made an incision which cut cleanly between the parted trunks without touching much less damaging a single one of them. It went deeper, revealing the thin rootlets with their individual systems of tiny muscles that gave every hair its mobility, and these it avoided, too.
Like a thick, curving length of cable, one of the blocked capillaries appeared on center screen. A tiny longitudinal incision was made and a fine probe with a thickened tip inserted carefully into the opening. There was very little bleeding, just a few droplets which looked under the high magnification to be the size of footballs.
O’Mara closed his eyes briefly so as to shut out his view of the screen and to remind himself that Thornnastor was working inside a capillary not much thicker than a hair while it tried to find and dissolve a clot without blasting a hole in the affected blood vessel and undoing all its previous, meticulous work.
There were many such blood vessels and many clots. But there was something about the surgeon’s work that was not quite right.
“This is microsurgery of a very high order” he said quietly to Mannen, “but I don’t recognize the procedure.”
“I didn’t know you had medical training” said Mannen, then nodded. “Of course, I forgot that you have the Marrasarah mind tape, too. What’s wrong with it?”
Thornnastor cleared its breathing passages and made a loud, disapproving sound.
“As the being O’Mara has just observed” it said, “my procedure departs from normal Kelgian practice because I have made a synthesis of the surgical knowledge and experience of the three other mind partners that are available to me. The work is delicate and requires concentration. Apart from the necessary verbal contact between the operating team, I would appreciate absolute silence.”
Mannen, the Nidian tutor, and O’Mara maintained a complete and, in his own case, an admiring silence until Thornnastor withdrew, closed, and stood back.
“As you can see” it said, curling one eye toward the wall screen, “the interrupted blood supply to the root muscles has been corrected and the connective nerve network that controls fur movement is intact. But the patient must be massively sedated and its fur rendered motionless until the area has a chance to recover completely from the recently inflicted surgical trauma, and heal.”
Suddenly it stamped its two medial feet, a habit of Tralthans who were in the grip of strong emotion, making all the loose equipment in the room rattle.
“Thank you, everyone,” it ended. “I believe we have an optimum result.”
CHAPTER 15
As befitted his high position in the hospital’s hierarchy, Senior Tutor Mannen occupied the only Earth-human chair while O’Mara and Thornnastor, whose species had no use for furniture, stood before Craythorne’s desk. The major’s voice was quiet and calm as he spoke, but it was obvious that he was very, very angry.
“Doctors,” he said, “I’ve asked you here principally to apologize for Lieutenant O’Mara’s conduct in this case. Normally I encourage initiative in my people, and must therefore bear full responsibility for the results if they make mistakes, but in this case he was, well, overenthusiastic and badly overstepped the mark. I hope you will take it no further and will allow me to deal with it as an internal disciplinary matter?”
“Of course, Major,” said Mannen. He smiled suddenly. “But go easy on him.”
Craythorne shook his head, looking puzzled; then he spoke to the Tralthan.
“Now that O’Mara has erased the four mind tapes it impressed two days ago,” he said, “may I assume that psychologically you are back to normal, Doctor, and there have been no emotional aftereffects?”
“You may not assume that,” said Thornnastor. “And while ‘doctor’ is quite suitable and less verbally cumbersome for normal conversational use, you should know that this morning I was promoted to senior physician.”
“Then please accept my congratulations, Senior Physician Thornnastor,” said the major, smiling but looking worried. “Where am I wrong? Are you still suffering mental disorientation following the erasure of the mind tapes?”
“There is still some mental disorientation, naturally,” the Tralthan replied, “but that is because only the emotionally troublesome Kelgian tape was erased and, with Senior Tutor Mannen’s agreement and Lieutenant O’Mara’s cooperation, I elected to retain permanently the other three.”
“But, but why?” said Craythorne, still looking worried. “That was, is, very risky. We have no idea of the mental repercussions that could result. It has never been done before—”
“But it will be done again, said Mannen, looking at Thornnastor and O’Mara. “It will be done a great many times.”
The major shook his head. “You’ll have to explain.”
Thornnastor said, “With my mind filled with the memories and personalities of four other-species entities, the effect was as O’Mara foretold. The high degree of concentration required during the operation caused only the medical knowledge of my mind partners to be brought forward and the unwanted emotional material to fade into the background. I was able to call on medical data and operating experience of four top other-species surgeons, and synthesize that material into a radical new procedure. Without the multiple mind partners the operation would not have been successful.”
“The senior physician,” Mannen joined in, “tells me that it can accommodate its three mind partners very well and looks forward to them being permanent residents. And if Thornnastor can do that, why not others? Naturally, Major, we’ll need to consult your department regarding the emotional stability and general suitability of candidates for multiple mind impressions, but you must see where this is leading.
“Up to now,” Mannen went on quickly, so as not to give time for the Major to show his ignorance, “our plan was to have a surgeon-in-charge take just the one tape needed to treat his, her, or its other-species patient, then have it erased on completion so that the process could be repeated indefinitely with future cases. But when we have medics available who carry simultaneously the surgical knowledge and experience of several different species, much more is possible.
“Not only will they be able to devise and perform new surgical procedures as did Thornnastor here,” the senior tutor went on, his voice rising in quiet excitement, “but they will be able to head original research projects into xenobiology and multi-species medicine. And if we ever find a wrecked ship with injured survivors of a previously unknown species on board, these special doctors, whose minds will be crammed with physiological and medical data on a multiplicity of known life-forms, will be able to advise on treatment with a greatly reduced risk of our well-intentioned tinkering killing the people we will be trying to save. They will be a special group and we’ll have to think of a name for them, clinical synthesists, xenobiological diagnosticians, something like that…
Mannen broke off, looking almost ashamed at losing his clinical objectivity to the extent of showing human excitement and pleasure at this new development in the field he loved. He looked at his watch, stood up, and turned away. Thornnastor was already moving toward the door.