Just as there was only one known method of traveling faster wan light, there was only one way of calling for help when an accident left a ship stranded between the stars. Tight-beam subspace radio could rarely be used in emergency conditions since it was subject to interference from intervening stellar material and required inordinate amounts of a vessel’s power — power which a distressed ship was unlikely to have available. But a distress beacon did not have to carry intelligence.' It was simply a nuclear-powered device which broadcast its location, a subspace scream for help which ran up and down the usuable frequencies until it died, in a matter of a few hours. And on I this occasion it had died amid a cloud of wreckage containing one survivor who was very lucky indeed to be alive.
But considering the extent of the being’s injuries, Conway thought, it could not really be described as lucky. Mentally shaking himself loose of these uncharacteristically morbid feelings, he went down to the Casualty Deck to check on” the patient’s condition.
Typed as physiological classification EGCL, the survivor was a warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing life-form of approximately twice the body weight of an adult Earth-human. Visually it resembled an outsize snail with a high, conical shell which was pierced around the tip where its four extensible eyes were I located. Equally spaced around the base of the shell were eight triangular slots from which projected the manipulatory appendages. The carapace rested on a thick, circular pad of muscle I which was the locomotor system. Around the circumference of the pad were a number of fleshy projections, hollows and slits associated with its systems of ingestion, respiration, elimination, reproduction, and nonvisual sensors. Its gravity and atmospheric pressure requirements had been estimated but, because of its severely weakened condition, the artificial gravity I setting had been reduced to assist the heart and the pressure increased so that decompression effects would not aggravate the bleeding.
As Conway stood looking down at the terribly injured EGCL, Pathologist Murchison and Charge Nurse Naydrad joined him at the pressure litter. It was the same litter which had been I used to move the casualty from the wreck, and, because the patient should not be subjected to unnecessary movement, — it would be used again to transfer the EGCL into the hospital. The only difference was that for the second trip the casualty had been tidied up.
In spite of his considerable experience with spacewreck casualties of all shapes, sizes, and physiological classifications, Conway winced at the memory of what they had found. The compartment containing the EGCL had been spinning rapidly when they discovered it, and the being had been rolling about inside and demolishing furniture and equipment with its massive body for many hours before it had lodged itself in a corner under some self-created debris.
In the process its carapace had sustained three fractures, one of which was so deeply depressed that the brain had been involved. One of the eyes was missing, and two of the thin, tentacular manipulators had been traumatically severed by sharp-edged obstructions — these limbs had been retrieved and preserved for possible rejoining — and there were numerous punctured and incised wounds to the base pad.
Apart from carrying out the emergency surgery to relieve some of the cranial pressure, controlling the major areas of bleeding with clamps and temporary sutures, and assisting the patient’s breathing by applying positive pressure ventilation to the remaining undamaged lung, there had been very little that they could do. Certainly there was no way of treating the brain damage aboard Rhabwar, and their efforts at charting the extent of that damage had resulted in conflicting indications from the biosensors and Doctor Prilicla’s empathic faculty. The sensor indications were that cerebral activity had virtually ceased, while the little empath insisted, insofar as the timid, shy, self-effacing Prilicla could insist, otherwise.
“No physical movement and no change in the clinical picture since you left,” Murchison said quietly, anticipating his question. She added, “I’m not at all happy about this.”
“And I am far from happy, Doctor,” the Charge Nurse joined in its fur twitching and rippling as if it was standing in a strong wind. “In my opinion the being is dead and we are simply insuring that Thornnastor receives a fresher than usual specimen to take apart.
“Doctor Prilicla,” the Kelgian went on, “is often guilty of saying things which are not completely accurate just so long as they make the people around it happy, and the predominant radiation it detected from the patient was of pain.
The feeling was so intense, you will remember, that Prilicla asked to be excused as soon as the operation was completed. In my opinion. Doctor, this patient is no longer capable of cerebration but it is, judging by Prilicla’s response, suffering intense pain. Surely your course is clear?”
“Naydrad!” Conway began angrily, then stopped. Murchi-son and the Charge Nurse had expressed exactly the same sentiments. The difference was that the Kelgian, in common with the rest of its species, was incapable of using tact.
Conway stared for a moment at the two-meters-long, caterpillar like life-form whose coat of silvery fur was in constant, rippling motion. This motion was completely involuntary among Kelgians, triggered by their reactions to external and internal stimuli, and the emotionally expressive fur complemented the vocal apparatus which lacked flexibility of tone. But the patterns of movement in the fur made it plain to any Kelgian what another felt about the subject under discussion, so that they always said exactly what they meant. The concepts of diplomacy, tact, and lying were therefore completely alien to them. Conway sighed.
He tried to conceal his own doubts about the case by saying firmly, “Thomnastor much prefers putting together a live speciment than taking apart a dead one. As. well, on a number of occasions Prilicla’s empathy has proved more trustworthy than medical instrumentation, so we cannot be absolutely sure that this case is hopeless. In any event, until we reach the hospital its treatment is my responsibility.
“Let’s not become too emotionally involved with this patient,” he added. “It is unprofessional and not like either of you.”
Naydrad, its fur twitching angrily, made a sound which did not register on Conway’s translator, and Murchison said, “You’re right, of course. We’ve seen much worse cases and I don’t know why I feel so badly about this one. Maybe I’m just growing old.”
“The onset of senility could be one explanation for such uncharacteristic behavior,” the Kelgian said, “although this is not so in my case.”
Murchison’s face reddened. “The Charge Nurse is allowed
to say things like that but you, Doctor, had better not agree with it,” she said crossly.
Conway laughed suddenly. “Relax. I wouldn’t dream of agreeing with such a blatantly obvious misstatement,” he said. “And now, if you have everything you think Thorny will need on our friend here, both of you get some rest. Emergence is in six hours. If you can’t sleep, please try not to worry too much about the casualty or it will bother Prilicla.”
Murchison nodded and followed Naydrad from the Casualty Deck. Conway, still feeling more like a not very well patient than a medic in charge, set the audible warning which would signal any change in the EGCL’s condition, lay down on a nearby litter, and closed his eyes.
Neither the Earth-human DBDG or the Kelgian DBLF classifications were noted for their ability to exercise full control over their mentation, and it was soon obvious that Murchison and Naydrad had been worrying and, in the process, producing some unpleasant emotional radiation. With his eyes still closed he listened to the faint tapping and plopping sounds which moved along the ceiling toward him and came to a halt overhead. There was a burst of low, musical clicks and trills which came through his translator as “Excuse me, friend Conway, were you sleeping?”