Double Contact sg-11

by James White

  He could feel the pathologist beginning to lose its temper, but not completely, because the words it used were intended to achieve a precisely calculated effect.

  Murchison said calmly, “The experiences you shared on your ship, your searchsuit as you call it, when Jasam was badly injured and you were unable to leave your control pod to help or comfort or even to be physically close to it, has made a deep impression on your mind. You don’t want to be separated from Jasam — especially, as now, when you think that there is the danger of never seeing it alive again. I can understand and sympathize with that feeling.

  “Perhaps this natural concern for your life-mate,” it went on, “has temporarily clouded your intellect and memory, so I shall explain to you once again, that I, no matter how large or small my physical resemblance to one of them, am not a druul. Because of my greater knowledge in some areas I am here simply to advise on problems which may arise during this procedure. I shall not be working on Jasam directly or touching its body at any time. If you insist on being present during this operation, you have my permission to stay. However, seeing your life-mate under the knife will be distressing and psychologically damaging for you, so I suggest that you watch me closely rather than Jasam, just in case I should feel suddenly hungry and want to eat it.”

  “And they tell me Kelgians are without tact,” said Danalta.

  “Whatever that is,” said Naydrad, its fur spiking in shock. “But the words were inappropriate.”

  Prilicla knew that Murchison was deliberately using shock tactics, and felt from Keet’s emotional radiation that they were beginning to work.

  “From your observation of Prilicla’s work on your ship,” the pathologist went on, “you know that it is capable of the most delicate and precise healing. You also know that it is hypersensitive to the emotions of those around it, and you must already have realized that your intense feelings of fear, concern, and other emotions can adversely affect its ability to perform the high level of surgery that is required here. For that reason you must at all times keep a tight control of your feelings, natural though they are, so as to avoid distracting Prilicla. Do you understand and agree?”

  The Trolanni did not reply, but Prilicla could feel the intensity of Keet’s emotional radiation begin to subside as it fought, successfully, to control its feelings and impose a measure of calm on itself. There was no need for it to speak to this frightful, druul-like creature because there was understanding and agreement and, he noted with pleasure, a feeling of apology.

  “Thank you, friend Murchison,” Prilicla said. “We will begin…”

  The high concentration of light around the patient, Prilicla thought, during the few times he glanced up to rest his eyes, when contrasted with the grey overcast outside the direct-vision panel, made it seem almost as if night had fallen, and the final time he looked up, the panel was black and it had. At intervals the quiet voice of the captain had been reporting no visible activity from the spider ships, and with the fall of darkness the infrared sensors were confirming its theory that the spiders were not nocturnal creatures.

  “Or at least,” Naydrad added, much too loudly for the captain to miss hearing, “they don’t go out on rainy nights. Dr. Prilicla, I think you are in need of sleep.”

  “And I feel sure that you are, Doctor,” said Murchison. “The patient’s condition is still critical, but stable enough for us to seal off the lower thoracic area and suspend operations for a few hours. After all, the damage to the lungs where the deep air lines were jerked out by the onboard explosion has been repaired, and it is breathing pure oxygen with no mechanical assistance, as well as being fed intravenously. Repairs to the lesions caused by the traumatic withdrawal of the external feeding and waste-extraction systems can surely wait a little longer for attention?”

  “You are probably right, friend Murchison,” Prilicla replied, using the form of words that was the closest he could come to telling anyone they were wrong. “But there are still small traces of toxic material adhering to the ruptured bowel walls, and I would like to remedy that before any cessation. Friend Naydrad, stand by and apply suction where I indicate. Friend Danalta, be ready to follow me in and support the area under the first lesion while I am suturing. Friend Murchison, ease your mind. I promise not to fall asleep on the patient for at least an hour. Now, let us resume.”

  Naydrad’s equipment made a low, derisive sound and its fur rippled in concern as it said, “This is the strangest stomach-and-bowel arrangement I’ve ever encountered. Dr. Prilicla, in coloration and structure, it resembles spaghetti, that Earth-human food you like to eat. Is it strange to you, Pathologist?”

  “In the light of my earlier and non-serious remark about eating,” said Murchison sharply, radiating disapproval, “it is unseemly to mention food in the presence of the next of kin. And no, the Dwerlans use a similar gastrointestinal tract, although, I admit, not two of them working in tandem. There is nothing new in multispecies medicine, just new combinations of the old. But this one is particularly complex.”

  Keet moved restively on its litter and said, “I don’t seriously believe that any of you would want to eat the offal of my life-mate. Even a druul would think twice about doing that. But I can’t see what is happening. Murchison, you’re blocking my view.”

  “That was and remains my intention,” said Murchison. “It is kinder to tell you what is happening after it has happened.”

  With Naydrad keeping the operative field clear of unwanted fluid, and Danalta extruding the fine digits that could insinuate themselves into the awkward crevices where no inflexible surgical instrument could go so as to hold open the site of the damage, Prilicla was able to see his way to perform the extremely delicate work of repair that was necessary, As the procedure continued, Keet radiated intense but — uncharacteristically for it — silent concern. Murchison was watchful but it did not have to speak at all, because the organic territory they were occupying was becoming increasingly familiar to them. But nearly half an hour later, it did speak.

  “Keet,” Murchison said, radiating an increasing level of pleasure and relief that the Trolanni could not feel, “this is going well.”

  “Thank you, Murchison,” said Keet.

  “You’re welcome,” said the pathologist. “But please remain quiet so as to avoid distracting the team. There is more to do.”

  Feeling happier than it had been since the start of the operation, Keet replied by not saying another word. But Murchison was radiating a growing level of concern that was being focused on Prilicla himself. Its words came as no surprise to him.

  “You’re tired, sir,” it said, “and the way your legs are wobbling shows that you are badly in need of rest. The remaining work is simple tidying-up and can be completed by Danalta and Naydrad under my direction. But there is another complication which requires treatment. It isn’t urgent or life-threatening, at least so far as the life of the patient itself is concerned, and it can wait, but I suggest we do it while we are in the area so as to avoid having to open up the patient at a later date.”

  “Do what, and why?” said Keet suddenly. “I don’t want you cutting Jasam without a very good reason.”

  Murchison ignored the interruption but in its calm, lecturing voice managed to answer the questions anyway,

  “The problem is principally medical and requires only minor surgery,” it said, using its pencil light as a pointer, “involving as it does infusions into the patient’s endocrine system, specifically the small gland in the area — just there — which is partially atrophied and inactive due to a build-up of toxic material that has been assimilated by the body over many years. With the removal from its toxic home environment and the introduction of the indicated specifics, the chances are that the gland in question can be restimulated to optimum activity in a very short time, and certainly within the period of the patient’s recuperation.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Keet.

  “… Considering the fact that Tr
olann’s population is dangerously close to the point of extinction,” Murchison continued, “it would be advantageous after they are transferred to their new world for as many Trolanni couples as possible to be capable of reproducing their kind. With Patient Jasam’s male reproductive system, the treatment is simple and straightforward with no complications foreseen. With Patient Keet, however, in common with the females of the other life-forms in my experience, the mechanism of reproduction and child-bearing is more complex. It would be better if you undertook that procedure yourself, after you have slept, of course. Do you agree?”

  For a moment Prilicla was unable to speak. A sudden explosion of emotion from Keet, comprising as it did a mixture of excitement, relief, and pleasure that verged on the joyous, was sending a slow tremors along his body, wings and limbs. He was greatly pleased but not surprised at the way his assistant had handled the situation, and he knew for a fact that Murchison had made a Trolannifriend for life.

  As the gale of pleasurable emotion diminished, he withdrew from the table, stretched out his wings and limbs and refolded them tightly to his body before speaking.

  “Well done, all of you,” he said. “Friend Murchison, both of your suggestions are approved. Proceed at once with the work on Jasam, and explain to Keet that her life-mate will be rendered unconscious for a period of continuous sedation that will assist its healing, and that there will be nothing more constructive for it to do during that time than to undergo the procedure you suggested.”

  “Don’t worry, all that will be explained to Keet,” Murchison broke in. “But now, sir, will you please go to sleep?”

  The figures of Murchison, Danalta, Naydrad, the two Trolanni, and the whole OR were beginning to fade around him.

  Happily he murmured, “I am asleep.”

  CHAPTER 29

  The bad weather continued with unbroken wind and heavy rain for the next six days, during which there was, as expected, no resumption of the spider attack. Keet had successfully undergone its minor surgery at Prilicla’s hands and was waiting impatiently for Jasam to be released from its continuing sedation. In space, Courier One had returned with the latest news from the Federation, which consisted mainly of ranking Monitor Corps officers and senior administrators worrying aloud about what Rhabwars people were doing, or more accurately, what they were doing wrong regarding this unique double first contact situation. Courier Two was waiting impatiently to take back the latest situation report, and their excuses.

  Captain Fletcher was trying to think of a few good ones, and asking for help.

  “I’ve drafted a report on all this for the courier vessel,” it said, radiating a mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty as a jerky gesture of its hand indicated the human and Trolanni casualties visible through the transparent wall of the communications room, “but I wanted to consult with you, Dr. Prilicla, with all of you, in fact, before sending it off. For reasons you will understand, and of which I am not very proud, I didn’t want the discussion to be via communicator and be overheard by my officers. If this matter should come to an enquiry, or even a court martial, I’d prefer them not to know and so spare them the embarrassment of having to give evidence against me.”

  The captain had walked the distance from Rhabwar in the pouring rain to say these things. Prilicla used his projective empathy in an attempt to reassure the captain, but it wasn’t working very well. Naydrad was the first to speak.

  “I don’t understand your problem, Captain,” it said with a puzzled ruffle of fur. “With Kelgians this situation would not arise. We would either recount the facts accurately or, if we didn’t want to disclose the information, not speak at all. Earth-humans!”

  “Unlike the charge nurse whose species doesn’t know how to lie,” Danalta joined in, “I have a capability for verbal misdirection, diplomacy, politeness or therapeutic lying. But it is usually less complicated in the long run to tell the truth.”

  The captain radiated worry and impatience. It said, “But the truth is complicated, almost certainly too complicated for our superiors to believe. Courier One took back the news of the Trolanni first contact, which in the interim has gone fairly well, but the continued success of which may depend on whether or not they both survive the second contact with another intelligent species which includes Pathologist Murchison’s capture by pirates…”

  “That had a happy ending,” Murchison broke in, glancing out at the three rain-shrouded vessels drawn up along the beach, and added, “so far.”

  “… As a result of which,” it continued, “the planet’s indigenous species has virtually declared war on us. This is no way to conduct a first contact operation, and our temporal lords and masters will be gravely displeased with us, or with me, at least. Courier One’s captain said that there was serious talk about sending one of the dedicated first contact ships, probably Descartes, to take over our contact with the second species while advising us on how to conduct the first. He also said that unique-science investigation teams, which would, of course, take all the necessary precautions, were being assembled to unravel the Trolanni searchsuit technology and would be held back until an assessment could be made regarding the possibly harmful psychological effects of so much advanced space hardware appearing around the spiders’ planet. But when Courier Two takes back my latest report, including the news that — despite the fact that the spiders are nowhere near achieving space flight, they might not be given a terminal inferiority complex by seeing a few unexplained lights in their sky — within a week near-space is likely to be filled with Monitor Corps ships.”

  The captain stopped and breathed heavily. That was due, Prilicla thought, to the fact that it had been exhaling air at a controlled rate while speaking for several minutes without inhaling. For Prilicla’s sake it was trying to control its emotional radiation, which was anything but pleasant.

  “Friend Fletcher,” he said gently, “our areas of authority in this situation are overlapping, so it follows that the responsibility, or the blame for it going wrong, is also divided. However, it began as a medical problem with the transfer of the casualties from Terragar, and later the two injured Trolanni from their vessel to this station where, in order to protect both sets of patients, I had to force you into taking military action in their defense. This being so, the greater proportion of the blame must fall on me…”

  The other’s worry tensions were beginning to ease a little, but Prilicla could also feel an argument coming on. Unlike the Earth-human physiological classification, he could respirate and speak at the same time so he left no time for an interruption.

  “… My advice would be to tell the truth,” he went on, “but omit the incident of friend Murchison’s capture and escape until a later time. Learning about it now would worry the pathologist’s life-mate, and knowing Diagnostician Conway as I do, it would come out here and…”

  “He certainly would,” said Murchison softly.

  “… complicate matters,” he went on. “While Conway has more than enough rank to take one of the hospital’s vessels out here, my thought is that there will be enough ships in the area as it is without another worried life-mate joining us. Keet worrying about Jasam produces enough sex-based emotional drama to go on with. I feel your agreement, friend Murchison.

  “As for the rest of the report,” he went on, “be complete and factual. No doubt you will renew your warning regarding the danger of making direct ship-to-ship contact with the Trolanni searchsuit. But also warn your superiors, politely if your service career is to progress as it deserves, of the danger of well-intentioned interference by people who will have much less knowledge and appreciation of the problem than we have.

  “You should also relate in detail your concerns regarding the third and much more dangerous first-contact operation that is coming up,” he went on, “the one involving the druul. As well as the opposing species being physically separated and disarmed, which will require military intervention, the Trolanni must be evacuated as a disaster-relief emergen
cy. At a later time a similar exercise will be required for the druul as well, who, because of the bad reputation they have with the Trolanni, must be assessed for possible reeducation as candidates for membership of the Federation. You could also suggest that the advice of patients Jasam and Keet on the Trolann situation would be invaluable, providing we are let alone to continue treating Jasam’s very serious injuries and building up their trust in us.”

  “But the Trolanni-druul situation isn’t the immediate problem…” began the captain.

  “Of course it isn’t,” said Prilicla. “But if you give the impression that it is — that you, personally, consider these future problems to be of more importance and difficulty than our present one — this should have a reassuring effect on your superiors. If you express deep concern for and an understanding of their future problems, they should feel that you are confident about solving this one and leave us alone to get on with it without interference. As well, if they try to help with our problem, I’m sure friend Keet will be able to furnish us with more information on the Trolann situation to worry them. They might decide that every time they try to help us with our troubles, you dump an even greater problem in their laps, and desist.”

  “And what do I tell them about the spider assault on the med station?” asked the captain. “Just how do I make that sound like a minor problem?”

  “You tell the truth,” Prilicla replied, “but not all of it. After an initial period of misunderstanding, tell them that the spider first contact is ongoing.”

  “Ongoing it is,” said the captain, “but from bad to worse. Dr. Prilicla, for such a timid, inoffensive, and completely friendly entity, you have a nasty, devious, lying mind.”

  “Why, thank you, friend Fletcher,” he replied, “for listing my most admirable personality characteristics.”

  Murchison and Danalta made amused sounds which did not translate while Naydrad ruffled its fur in puzzlement, but before any of them could speak, the communicator chimed and its screen lit with the features of Haslam.