“I must interrupt this excessively long and, to me, less than interesting conversation,” said the Charge Nurse as it drifted to a halt between the patient and himself. “Senior Physician Edanelt is due to make its evening rounds. Please return to your sleeping frame, One-Thirteen. And Dietitian Gurronsevas, if you wish to continue the discussion you will have to wait until Edanelt has completed its ward rounds. Shall I contact you then?”
“Thank you, no,” he replied. “Patient One-Thirteen has given me some very useful information. I am grateful to both of you, and hopefully I shall not need to return until I have been able to make a positive improvement in the AUGL ward diet.”
“I will believe that,” said Charge Nurse Hredlichli, “when I see it.”
CHAPTER 6
When Gurronsevas had asked for the use of a large, enclosed volume of water that was not so deep that there would be the risk of his air-breathing helpers drowning, but extensive enough so that the experiments could be carried out without the test objects colliding too often with the retaining walls, he had not expected anything quite as large as this, and for a moment surprise rendered him speechless.
Bright but well-concealed lighting combined with some inspired landscaping had given the recreation level the illusion of tremendous spaciousness. The overall effect was of a small, tropical terrain beach enclosed on two sides by low cliffs containing several large and small cave mouths which were the concealed access tunnels to several diving boards, all of which were constantly in use, that projected at various heights from the soft, artificial rockface. The beach was open to the sea, which seemed to stretch to a distant horizon rendered indistinct by heat haze. Overhead the sky was blue and cloudless. The bay was deep blue, shading to turquoise where it met the shelving beach, and the wave-making machinery had been turned off for the duration of the experiment so that the water lapped gently onto soft, golden sand that was pleasantly warm underfoot.
Only the artificial sun, whose light had an orange tinge that Gurronsevas found strange, and the varieties of alien greenery fringing the cliff-tops kept it from looking like a tropical bay anywhere on his home planet.
“Newcomers are always impressed,” said Lieutenant Timmins proudly, “by their first sight of our recreation facility for warmblooded oxygen-breathers. At least one-third of the medical staff are off-duty at any given time and most of them like to spend a few hours here. Sometimes the place is so crowded you can hardly see the beach or ocean for bodies. But space is at a premium in Sector General, and the people who work together are expected to play together as well.
“Psychologically,” Timmins went on, still speaking in the manner of a proud parent of what must have been Maintenance Department’s favorite brainchild, “the most effective part of the environment is the one you don’t even see. The whole area is maintained at just under one-half standard gravity, and a half-G pull means that the people who feel tired can relax more comfortably and the ones who are feeling lively can feel livelier still. Unfortunately it lacks privacy, but there are so many different life-forms enjoying their leisure in so many strange ways that your experiments are likely to pass unnoticed.
“Do we start now or wait for Thornnastor?”
“Now, please,” said Gurronsevas, and began helping Timmins and its two Melfan assistants to transfer their equipment into the large, brightly-colored raft that was waiting in the shallows.
Only once did Gurronsevas pause when his communicator came briefly to life with the message that Diagnostician Thornnastor had been unavoidably delayed and would not be able to join them as planned, but it was sending Pathologist Murchison in its place. Judging by its sudden change of facial expression, the news pleased Timmins very much.
But they were all too busy making adjustments to the propulsion system of one of their test objects — the only one which so far had not blown itself to soggy pieces or otherwise proved a failure — to notice the pathologist’s arrival until it had swum out to the raft, pulled itself on board and spoken to them.
“Thornnastor had no time to brief me,” Murchison said. “What is that thing? And what am I doing here, apart from watching fully grown and presumably mentally adult beings playing in the water like children?”
It was a tall Earth-human DBDG, Gurronsevas saw, with the flabby and top-heavy aspect common to many females of that species. Long yellow head-fur darkened by water clung to its neck and shoulders and, Earth being one of the few cultures containing beings who still observed a nudity taboo, it wore two ridiculously narrow strips of fabric around its chest and pelvis. Even though the words implied criticism its manner seemed pleasant. Before replying he reminded himself that Murchison was Thornnastor’s principal assistant and the life-mate of another Diagnostician, Conway, and that he should not be too quick to take offense in case none had been intended.
“It might look that way, ma’am,” Timmins said before Gurronsevas could speak, “and I must admit that this isn’t the most unpleasant project I have ever been given. But there are serious, technical, and medical-support reasons for what we are doing here.”
“For playing with a toy boat?” asked Murchison.
“Technically, ma’am, it isn’t a boat,” said the Lieutenant, smiling. It lifted the test object out of the water so that the pathologist could see it more clearly. “It is a prototype submersible vehicle with a flattened ovoid configuration that is designed to remain in a state of stable equilibrium at whatever depth it is placed, after which it is supposed to alter its position and depth randomly and at speed.
“The propulsion system,” Timmins went on, “is a thin-walled plastic cylinder of compressed gas which fits into this cylindrical opening in the stern, just here. Smaller depressions around the circumference and on the top and underside house smaller capsules of compressed gas which are used for changing attitude. The walls of these steering capsules are water soluble and of varying thickness so that they need differing periods, anything from five to seventy-five seconds, to melt and release the gas. This means that the changes in direction will be random and the vehicle consequently very difficult to catch, at least until the propellant gas runs out which, in this test specimen, will be in two minutes. We are about to do another test run, ma’am. You should find it interesting.”
“I can’t wait,” said Murchison.
Timmins and the two Melfan technicians lifted the test vehicle onto the raft and climbed on board. Their combined weight made the raft tip alarmingly. Murchison stepped backwards quickly to give them space to work, arms outstretched to maintain its balance, and Gurronsevas remained in the water. He was tall enough for his feet to touch the bottom while his cranial breathing passages remained in air. Two of his eyes he positioned under the surface to watch for any underwater swimmers who might be about to encroach on the test area, and with the other two he watched until the vehicle was refuelled and ready.
“This time we’ll place it at a depth of one-half meter,” Gurronsevas said, “because I want to closely observe its behavior from the moment the main propulsion unit’s seal dissolves until the first steering capsule bursts. Hold it as level as possible, let go simultaneously and withdraw slowly so that you will not create turbulence which might cause an attitude change before thrust is applied. Is this understood by everyone?”