Rhabwar was indeed a very special ambulance ship. Soon it would depart on one of its very unusual and probably dangerous missions for which it had been designed. But what was a disgraced Chief Dietitian doing on board, unless O’Mara was trying to give him another chance?
CHAPTER 16
The next four days passed very quickly and without the slightest feeling of boredom, and it was only when complete body and brain fatigue forced him to leave the console that he moved to his concealed resting place behind a set of casualty bed-screens to try, not always successfully, to switch off his mind. Then on the fifth day he was awakened by the lighting being switched on and a voice saying loudly, “Chief Dietitian, this is Lioren. Waken quickly, please. Where are you?”
Gurronsevas’ mind was too confused by suddenly interrupted sleep for him to reply, but by lowering the concealing bed-screen he answered the question and signaled his returning consciousness.
There was a sharpness in Lioren’s tone that Gurronsevas had not heard before as it said, “Have you returned to the hospital or talked to anyone, however briefly, since we last spoke?”
“No,” said Gurronsevas.
“Then you don’t know what has been happening during the past two days?” it asked, making the question sound like an accusation. “Nothing at all?”
“No,” said Gurronsevas again.
Lioren was silent for a moment, then in a friendlier voice it said, “I believe you. If you remained on Rhabwar and know nothing, hopefully you may not be at fault.”
Gurronsevas disliked the implication that he might have lied. He tried to keep his anger in check as he said, “I have spent all of the time studying, doing exactly as I’ve been told, for a change, and thinking about my possible future position here. It is about that, if it could spare a few minutes, that I would like to speak to O’Mara. Now please tell me what you are talking about?”
The other hesitated again, in the way of a person who is trying to impart bad news as gently as possible, then said, “I have two pieces of information for you. The first is inexact and may turn out to be unpleasant for you. The second is very unpleasant for you unless you can assure me that you had nothing to do with the situation. I prefer to tell you the less unpleasant news first.
“It is about Rhabwar’s next mission,” said Lioren. “This is little more than a rumor, you understand, because the mission is being discussed at a very high level by people who rarely gossip. A large number of expensive hyperspace signals have been exchanged about it. Contact with a newly-discovered intelligent species is involved, but there is doubt regarding the ambulance ship’s ability to handle the situation. Rhabwar’s medical team thinks they can help and the cultural contact people insist it is their job. I think the final decision has been taken but implimentation was delayed because of the epidemic.”
“What epidemic?”
Lioren hesitated, then said, “If you have not gone into the hospital or contacted anyone there you would, of course, know nothing. Your ignorance also increases the possibility that you have no responsibility for the situation.”
“What situation?” said Gurronsevas, in a voice so loud with exasperation that it must have reached to the other end of the boarding tube. “What epidemic? And what have I to do with it?”
“Nothing, I hope,” said Lioren. “But stop shouting and I’ll tell you about it.”
According to Lioren an unidentified epidemic had swept through the hospital’s staff and patients three days earlier. Only the warm-blooded oxygen-breathing species had been affected, although not all of them. Hudlars, Nallajims and a few others had escaped, including, for some unknown reason, several members of these species who had succumbed but who, as individuals, appeared to have immunity or were lucky enough not to have been exposed. The symptoms were nausea increasing in severity over the first two days, after which the patients were unable to take food by mouth and had to be fed intravenously. More serious was the fact that over the same period there was a gradual loss of the ability to communicate coherently or coordinate limb and digital movements. It was too soon to say that the IV feeding was successful in all cases; there were too many staff members affected who were too sick to investigate either their own or their patients’ clinical condition properly, but there were indications that the symptoms of nausea and brain dysfunction were receding among those who were being fed intravenously.“… But we can’t keep every warm-blooded oxygen-breather who is affected, close on four hundred of them, on IV feed indefinitely,” Lioren went on, “Even with them working round the clock, there aren’t enough other-species medical staff to handle it. So far there have been no fatalities, but with ordinary patients still requiring treatment or surgery, we are being forced to use trainees and junior medics who are operating beyond their level of competence. Deaths are just a matter of time. We don’t have the people for a proper investigation because the investigators are being affected too, in spite of the same-species barrier nursing precautions.
“Some of the senior medical staff escaped,” Lioren continued. “Diagnostician Conway told me that in its case this might have been because it was concentrating on a Nallajim project at the time and its Educator tape was making it difficult to eat anything that did not look like birdseed. But if that is a factor in its immunity and if there is a correlation between the food eaten or not eaten and the onset of symptoms …”
“Are you suggesting food poisoning?” Gurronsevas broke in, trying to control his anger. “That is insulting, outrageous and impossible!”“… Given the widespread and concurrent onset of nausea symptoms, the obvious diagnosis would be food poisoning,” Lioren went on, ignoring the interruption but answering the question. “The bulk material used for food synthesis is thoroughly tested for quality and purity before shipping, and sealed for transit in a manner that precludes chemical or radiation contamination. The many new taste enhancers recently introduced by you are subject to the same rigorous safety regulations but, because of their number and variety, it is more likely that toxic or infective contamination gained entry through this channel. And I agree, any form of toxicity finding its way into the hospital’s food supply system is highly unlikely, but not impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible,” said Gurronsevas angrily. “But this is so close to it that …”
“I don’t wish to sound callous,” Lioren broke in, “but if this outbreak is due to contaminated food, your professional embarrassment will be great, and even greater will be the relief of the medical staff because it would mean that they are faced with a medical problem that requires simple treatment. But if it is not food poisoning, and the nausea is a secondary symptom of a condition affecting the brains of several different intelligent life-forms, then we have a much more serious problem. It means that there is a hitherto unknown pathogen loose in the hospital that is capable of crossing the species barrier. Even a non-medical person like yourself knows that that, too, is impossible. But on Cromsag I learned the hard lesson that no possibility should be discounted.”
Gurronsevas did know. From the time when he had made his first journey off-planet he had been told that there was no risk of him contracting other-species’ diseases or infections. A pathogen that had evolved on one world could not affect any living thing that had evolved on another, a fact that greatly simplified the practice of multi-species medicine and surgery. But he had heard it said that the Federation medical authorities were constantly on the lookout for the exception that proved the rule. Regarding Cromsag, he had no idea what had befallen the Padre there, and he felt sure that this was not the time to ask.