“This person” said O’Mara, “doesn’t even know I exist and, and lives halfway across the galaxy.”
He shook his head in self-irritation. This was getting way out of control. The things he was saying he had never believed that he would ever tell to another soul, and most certainly not to Craythorne, who would probably fire him on the spot. But here he was talking about it, admittedly in the most general terms and without mentioning names or details, to a pair of enamored Eurils. He had to end this quickly and get away from here.
“I’m sorry’ he said. “This was to be a social visit. I came to talk to you, but not about something that I’ve never spoken of to any other person. As a psychologist, I can’t understand why I’m talking to you about it now. Perhaps I’m feeling envious over what you two have and I haven’t…
Neenil and Creesik were twittering again. It had a sympathetic sound. Their heads were cocked sideways and th<were looking at each other.
He looked at Creesik and went on, “. . but no matter, I called at an inconvenient time and I’ll go now. There is no reason for you to leave.”
“You show great sensitivity, and delicacy, O’Mara” said Creesik, “but there is a reason to leave. If I stayed, neither of us would be able to finish our study assignments.”
It hopped toward the door. As he turned to follow, Neenil spoke again.
“This is not right, O’Mara” it said. “You must search for and find this being, and speak your mind to it. Promise me.”
O’Mara left without replying because he could not promise the impossible and he wanted to avoid hurting the other’s feelings with a negative reply. Neenil was coming across as a particularly nice and currently very happy person who in its present emotional state wished everyone else to be as happy as it was. Sadly, silently, and enviously he wished it and its partner joy.
He thought about the Euril conversation off and on during the next four days when the major and he were kept too busy sorting out minor other-species problems to do anything but nod at each other in passing. Once, when he was alone in the department, he did some serious thanking about them. The hospital grapevine, a fast-reacting plant with its nerve and speech centers in the dining hall, had not given the smallest twitch or whisper of gossip about him and his mysterious unrequited love, so obviously the Euril couple weren’t the kind of people who gossiped. He hadn’t seen them again but his liking for them was increasing.
Providing Creesik remained in Sector General as well, he thought Neenil would make a good therapist. He would bear that in mind in case his chief ever mentioned needing another assistant. As if on cue, Craythorne hurried through the department and waved him toward the inner office.
“Sit down and relax, LieutenanC’ he said, smiling. “You aren’t in any trouble, so far as I know. We’ve a lot of thin~s to talk about but none of them are urgent:’ He looked at O’Mara for a moment. “Unless that expression you’re wearing means that you have a more urgent problem to discuss?”
“This isn’t urgent, either, sir” he replied. “But it’s something you might want to think about.”
“Go on, Lieutenant.”
“There is no necessity at this stage to mention individuals and species” said O’Mara carefully, “but while I was talking to some of the people on Level One-Eleven it became apparent that pairing-off was taking place. Normally there would be nothing to interest the department in that, but in the situation here… ”
“In the situation on One-Eleven” said Craythorne dryly, “the trainees will be glad that some of the others are going to bed without making sleeping noises. Sorry, O’Mara, my jokes are never funny. Seriously, are you worried about an impending population explosion?”
“No, sir” said O’Mara, “not immediately. But the trainees who qualify for permanent staff positions here, and who become what the Kelgians call life-mates, will want to have families. We would be in serious trouble with their home-planet authorities, not to mention the Federation Primary Rule, for infringing their rights. When the hospital is up and running for a few years, it’s something we’ll have to think about.”
The major nodded. “You’re right. It won’t happen tomorrow, I sincerely hope. You have a word with Mannen about it. He likes talking to you, he says, because you don’t take as long as I do to get to the point. Tell him that, if and when, to tell us which otherspecies obstetricians we need to approach for mind tapes.” He laughed quietly and went on, “After all, the hospital’s first patient was an infant Hudlar, as you very well know. Was there anything else you wanted to say?”
“No, sir.”
“Good,” said Craythorne. “Now we can discuss a less longterm problem. Six months from now the real exotic~vill begin to arrive: SNLUs, TLTUs, VTXMs, people like that. Building accommodation for them will be a Maintenance problem, naturally, and they’ll be calling in same-species environmental engineers, and the Telfi ward will become part of the main power reactor. How exactly we’re going to treat the emotional difficulties of beings who breathe high-pressure superheated steam, or methane crystalline life-forms who live close to absolute zero, or gestalt entities who absorb hard radiation, I’m unable to say right now, but we’ll do our best. It will mean us putting in a lot of time on the library computer and, of course, getting more departmental help.”
Craythorne paused. O’Mara remained silent.
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant” the major went on. “The help in question is Earth-human, a retired Monitor Corps officer who volunteered himself for the position. He’s totally unlike you because he’s old, frail, and gentle, I’m told, except during philosophical arguments. He’ll be arriving two weeks from now.”
“I’ll be looking forward to meeting him then” said O’Mara with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.
Craythorne shook his head. “You won’t be meeting him then, because, Lieutenant, you won’t be here.”
O’Mara stared hard at the major, not speaking. He had thought that he was improving, losing some of the rough edges to his manner when dealing with people, but apparently he was still guilty of wearing his heavy boots and an old, frail, gentle exMonitor Corps officer was replacing him. Craythorne returned his stare without dropping his eyes, plainly reading the bitter disappointment on O’Mara’s face; then he shook his head again.
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Lieutenant,” he said. “You’ve worked very hard during these past two years with the department, but you’re beginning to show signs of stress. I don’t know what, precisely, is troubling your mind, and I know you would never admit to any weakness much less tell your superior officer if there was anything bothering you, but something most definitely is. This is the best opportunity you’ll have for a while to get away~om this place, so I want you to relax, rest, or at least do something strenuously different for a while, and sort things out for yourself. You have a lot of leave owing. Take it.”
O’Mara had not realized that he was holding his breath until it came out in a long sigh of relief. He said, “Thank you, sir. But I’ve no family or planetside friends. There’s nowhere I want to go and nothing else I want to do.”
The major frowned. “Lieutenant,” he said, “that answer falls into the grey area between a chronic lack of imagination and manic dedication to duty. As a psychologist I am prescribing a six-week change of scene, and as your superior officer I am making it an order. Go anywhere you like, but go.”
O’Mara spent the rest of the day tidying up clerical loose ends, speaking to the transport officer about the availability of outgoing flights, and trying to make up his mind where he wanted to go. But he kept thinking back to Neenil and the Euril’s last, concerned words to him.