Sector General

by James White

Accident

Retlin complex was Nidia's largest air terminal, its only spaceport, and,

MacEwan thought cynically, its most popular zoo. The main concourse was thronged

with furry native airline passengers, sightseers, and ground personnel, but the

thickest crowd was outside the transparent walls of the off-planet departure

lounge where Nidians of all ages jostled each other in their eagerness to see

the waiting space travelers.

But the crowd parted quickly before the Corpsmen escorting MacEwan and his

companion—no native would risk giving offense to an offworlder by making even

accidental bodily contact. From the departure lounge entrance, the two were

directed to a small office whose transparent walls darkened into opacity at

their approach.

The man facing them was a full Colonel and the ranking Monitor Corps officer on

Nidia, but until they had seated themselves he remained standing, respectfully,

as befitted one who was meeting for the first time the great Earth-human MacEwan

and the equally legendary Orligian Grawlya-Ki. He remained on his feet for a

moment longer while he looked with polite disapproval at their uniforms, torn

and stained relics of an

almost forgotten war, then he glanced toward the solidograph that occupied one

corner of his desk and sat down.

Quietly he began, "The planetary assembly has decided that you are no longer

welcome on Nidia, and you are requested to leave at once. My organization, which

is the closest thing we have to a neutral extraplanetary police force, has been

asked to implement this request. I would prefer that you leave without the use

of physical coercion. I am sorry. This is not pleasant for me, either, but I

have to say that I agree with the Nidians. Your peacemongering activities of

late have become much too... warlike."

Grawlya-Ki's chest swelled suddenly, making its stiff, spi-key fur rasp dryly

against the old battle harness, but the Orligian did not speak. MacEwan said

tiredly, "We were just trying to make them understand that—"

"I know what you were trying to do," the Colonel broke in, "but half wrecking a

video studio during a rehearsal was not the way to do it. Besides, you know as

well as I do that your supporters were much more interested in taking part in a

riot than in promulgating your ideas. You simply gave them an excuse to—"

"The play glamorized war," MacEwan said.

The Monitor's eyes flickered toward the solidograph, then back to Grawlya-Ki and

MacEwan again. His, tone softened. "I'm sorry, believe me, but you will have to

leave. I cannot force it, but ideally you should return to your home planets

where you could relax and live out your remaining years in peace. Your wounds

must have left mental scars and you may require psychiatric assistance; and,

well, I think both of you deserve some of the peace that you want-so desperately

for everyone else."

When there was no response, the Colonel sighed and said, "Where do you want to

go this time?" '

"Traltha," MacEwan said.

The Monitor looked surprised. "That is a hot, high-gravity, heavily

industrialized world, peopled by lumbering, six-legged elephants who are

hardworking, peaceloving, and culturally stable. There hasn't been a war on

Traltha for a thousand years. You would be wasting your time there, and feeling

very uncomfortable while doing so, but it's your choice."

"On Traltha," MacEwan said, "commercial warfare never stops. One kind of war can

lead to another."

The Colonel made no attempt to disguise his impatience. "You are frightening

yourselves without reason and, in any case, maintaining the peace is our

concern. We do it quietly, discreetly, by keeping potentially troublesome

entities and situations under observation, and by making the minimum response

early, before things can get out of control. We do a good job, if I do say so

myself. But Traltha is not a danger, now or in the foreseeable future." He

smiled. "Another war between Orligia and Earth would be more likely."

"That will not happen, Colonel," Grawlya-Ki said, its modulated growling

forming a vaguely threatening accompaniment to the accentless speech coming from

its translator pack. "Former enemies who have beaten hell out of each other

make the best friends. But there has to be an easier way of making friends."

Before the officer could reply, MacEwan went on quickly, "I understand what the

Monitor Corps is doing, Colonel, and I approve. Everybody does. It is rapidly

becoming accepted as the Federation's executive and law-enforcement arm. But it

can never become a truly multispecies service. Its officers, of necessity, will

be almost entirely Earth-human. With so much power entrusted to one species—"

"We are aware of the danger," the Colonel broke in. Defensively he went on,

"Our psychologists are working on the problems and our people are highly trained

in e-t cultural contact procedures. And we have the authority to ensure that

the members of every ship's crew making other-species contacts are

similarly-gained,. Everyone is aware of the danger of uttering or commiting an

unthinking word or action which could be construed as insulting and of what

might ensue. We lean over backward in our efforts not to give offense. You know

that."

The Colonel was first and foremost a policeman, MacEwan thought, find like a

good policeman he resented any criticism of his service. What was more, his

irritation with the two aging war veterans was rapidly reaching the point where

the interview would be terminated. Take it easy, he warned himself, this is not

an enemy.

Aloud he said, "The point I'm trying to make is that leaning over backward is an

inherently unstable position, and this hy-perpoliteness where extraterrestrials

are concerned is artificial, even dishonest. The tensions generated must

ultimately lead to trouble, even between the handpicked and highly intelligent

entities who are the only people allowed to make off-planet contacts. This type

of contact is too narrow, too limited. The member species of the Federation are

not really getting to know and trust each other, and they never will until

contact becomes more relaxed and natural. As things are it would be unthinkable

to have even a friendly argument with an extraterrestrial.

"We must get to really know them, Colonel," MacEwan went on quickly. "Well

enough not to have to be so damnably polite all the time. If a Tralthan jostles

a Nidian or an Earth; human, we must know the being well enough to tell it to

watch where it's going and to call it any names which seem appropriate to the

occasion. We should expect the same treatment if the fault is ours. Ordinary

people, not a carefully selected and trained star-traveling elite, must get to

know offworlders well enough to be able to argue or even to quarrel nonviolently

with them, without—"

"And that," the Monitor said coldly, rising to his feet, "is the reason you are

leaving Nidia. For disturbing the peace."

Hopelessly, MacEwan tried again. "Colonel, we must find some common ground on

which the ordinary citizens of the Federation can meet. Not just because of

scientific and cultural exchanges or interstellar trade treaties. It must be

something basic, something we all feel strongly about, an idea or a project that

we can really get together on. In spite of our much-vaunted Federation and the

vigilance of your Monitor Corps, perhaps because of that vigilance, we are not

getting to know each other properly. Unless we do another war is inevitable. But

nobody worries. You've all forgotten how terrible war is."

He broke off as the Colonel pointed slowly to the solido-graph on his desk, then

brought the hand back to his side again. "We have a constant reminder," he said.

After that the Colonel would say no more, but remained standing stiffly at

attention until Grawlya-Ki and MacEwan left the office.

The departure lounge was more than half filled with tight, exclusive little

groups of Tralthans, Melfans, Kelgians, and Illensans. There was also a pair of

squat, tentacular, heavy-gravity beings who were apparently engaged in spraying

each other with paint, and which were a new life-form to MacEwan. A

teddybearlike Nidian wearing the blue sash of the nontechnical ground staff

moved from behind them to escape the spray, but otherwise ignored the creatures.

There was some excuse for the chlorine-breathing Illensans to keep to

themselves: the loose, transparent material of their protective envelopes looked

fragile. He did not know anything about the paint-spraying duo, but the others

were all warmblooded, oxygen-breathing life-forms with similar pressure and

gravity requirements and they should, at least, have been acknowledging each

others' presence even if they did not openly display the curiosity they must be

feeling toward each other. Angrily, MacEwan turned away to examine the traffic

movements display.

There was an lllensan factory ship in orbit, a great, ungainly nonlander whose

shuttle had touched down a few minutes earlier, and a Nidian ground transporter

fitted with the chlorine breathers' life-support was on the way in to pick up

passengers. Their Tralthan-built and crewed passenger ship was nearly ready to

board and stood on its apron on the other side of the main aircraft runway. It

was one of the new ships which boasted of providing comfortable accommodation

for six different oxygen-breathing species, but degrees of comfort were relative

and MacEwan, Grawlya-Ki, and the other non-Tralthans in the lounge would shortly

be judging it for themselves.

Apart from the lllensan shuttle and the Tralthan vessel, the only traffic was

the Nidian atmosphere craft which took off and landed every few minutes. They

were not large aircraft, but they did not need to be to hold a thousand Nidians.

As the aircraft differed only in their registration markings, it seemed that the

same machine was endlessly taking off and landing.

Angry because there was nothing else in the room to engage his attention fully,

and because it occupied such a prominent Position in the center of the lounge

that all eyes were naturally drawn to it, MacEwan turned finally to look once

again at that frightful and familiar tableau.

Grawlya-Ki had already done so and was whining softly to itself.

It was a life-sized replica of the old Orligian war memorial, one of the

countless thousands of copies which occupied public places of honor or appeared

in miniature on the desks or in the homes of responsible and concerned beings on

every world-of the Federation. The original had stood within its protective

shield in the central Plaza of Orligia's capital city for more than two

centuries, during which a great many native and visiting entities of

sensitivity and intelligence had tried vainly to describe its effect upon them.

For that war memorial was no aesthetic marble poem in which godlike figures

gestured defiance or lay dying nobly with limbs arranged to the best advantage.

Instead it consisted of an Orligian and an Earthman, surrounded by the

shattered, remnants of a Control Room belonging to a type of ship now long

obsolete.

The Orligian was standing crouched forward, the fur of its chest and face matted

with blood. A few yards away lay the Earth-human, very obviously dying. The

front of his uniform was in shreds, revealing the ghastly injuries he had

sustained. Abdominal organs normally concealed by skin, layers of subcutaneous

tissue and muscle were clearly visible. Yet this man, who had no business being

alive much less being capable of movement, was struggling toward the Orligian.

Two combatants amid the wreckage of a warship trying to continue their battle

hand to-hand?

The dozens of plaques spaced around the base of the tableau described the

incident in all the written languages of the Federation .

They told of the epic, single-ship duel between the Orligian and the Earth-human

commanders. So evenly matched had they been that, their respective crew members

dead, their ships shot to pieces, armaments depleted and power gone, they had

crash-landed close together on a world unknown to both of them. The Orligian,

anxious to learn all it could regarding enemy ship systems, and driven by a more

personal curiosity about its opponent, had boarded the wrecked Earth ship. They

met.

For them the war was over, because the terribly wounded Earth-human did not know

when he was going to die and the Orligian did not know when, if ever, its

distress signal would

bring rescuers. The distant, impersonal hatred they had felt toward each other

was gone, dissipated by the six-hour period* of maximum effort that had been

their duel, and was replaced by feelings of mutual respect for the degree of

professional competence displayed. So they tried to communicate, and succeeded.

It had been a slow, difficult, and extraordinarily painful process for both of

them, but when they did talk they held nothing back. The Orligian knew that any

verbal insubordination it might utter would die with this Earth-human, who in

turn sensed the other's sympathy and was in too much pain to care about the

things he said about his own superiors. And while they talked the Earth-human

learned something of vital importance, an enemy's-eye view of the simple,

stupid, and jointly misunderstood incident which had been responsible for

starting the war in the first place.

It had been during the closing stages of this conversation that an Orligian ship

which chanced to be in the area had landed and, after assessing the situation,

used its Stopper on the Earth wreck.

Even now the operating principles of the Orligian primary space weapon were

unclear to MacEwan. The weapon was capable of enclosing a small ship, or vital

sections of a large one, within a field of stasis in which all motion stopped.

Neither the ships nor their crew were harmed physically, but if someone so much

as scratched the surface of one of those Stopped hulls or tried to slip a needle

into the skin of one of the Stopped personnel, the result was an explosion of

near-nuclear proportions.

But the Orligian stasis field projector had peaceful as well as military

applications.

With great difficulty the section of Control Room and the two Stopped bodies it

contained had been moved to Orligia, to occupy the central square of the

planetary capital as the most gruesomely effective war memorial ever known, for

236 years. During that time the shaky peace which the two frozen beings had

brought about between Orligia and Earth ripened into friendship, and medical

science progressed to the point where the terribly injured Earth-human could be

saved. Although its

injuries had not been fatal, Grawlya-Ki had insisted on being Stopped with its

friend so that it could see MacEwan cured for itself.

And then the two greatest heroes of the war, heroes because they had ended it,

were removed from stasis, rushed to a hospital, and cured. For the first time,

it was said, the truly great of history would receive the reward they deserved

from posterity—and that was the way it had happened, just over thirty years

ago.

Since then the two heroes, the only two entities in the whole Federation with

direct experience of war, had grown increasingly monomaniacal on the subject

until the honor and respect accorded them had gradually changed to reactions of

impatience and embarrassment.

"Sometimes, Ki," MacEwan saidt turning away from the frozen figures of their

former selves, "I wonder if we should give up and try to find peace of mind like

the Colonel said. Nobody listens to us anymore, yet all we are trying to tell

them is to relax, to take off their heavy, bureaucratic gauntlets when extending

the hand of friendship, and to speak and react honestly so that—"

"I am aware of the arguments," Grawlya-Ki broke in, "and the completely

unnecessary restatement of them, especially to one who shares your feelings in

this matter, is suggestive of approaching senility."

"Listen, you mangy, overgrown baboon!" MacEwan began furiously, but the Orligian

ignored him.

"And senility is a condition which cannot be successfully treated by the

Colonel's psychiatrists," it went on. "Neither, I submit, can they give

psychiatric assistance to minds which are otherwise sane. As for my localized

loss of fur, you are so lacking in male hormones that you can only grow it on

your head and—"

"And your females grow more fur than you do," MacEwan snapped back, then

stopped.

He had been conned again.

Since that first historic meeting in MacEwan's wrecked Control Room they had

grown to know each other very well. Grawlya-Ki had assessed the present

situation, decided that MacEwan was-feeling far too depressed for his own good,

and instituted

curative treatment in the form of a therapuetic argument combined with subtle

reassurance regarding their sanity. MacEwan smiled.

"This frank and honest exchange of views," he said quietly, "is distressing the

other travelers. They probably think the Earth—Orligian war is about to restart,

because they would never dream of saying such things to each other."

"But they do dream," Grawlya-ki said, its mind going off at one of its

peculiarly Orligian tangents. "All intelligent life-forms require periods of

unconsciousness during which they dream. Or have nightmares."

"The trouble is," MacEwan said, "they don't share our particular nightmare."

Grawlya-Ki was silent. Through the transparent outer wall of the lounge it was

watching the rapid approach of the ground transporter from the Illensan shuttle

The vehicle was^a great, multiwheeled silver bullet distinctively marked to show

that it was filled with chlorine, and tipped with a transparent control module

whose atmosphere was suited to its Nidian driver. MacEwan wondered why all of

the smaller intelligent life-forms, regardless of species, had a compulsion to

drive fast. Had he stumbled upon one of the great cosmic truths?

"Maybe we should try a different approach," the Orligian said, still watching

the transporter. "Instead of trying to frighten them with nightmares, we should

find them a pleasant and inspiring dream to—What is that idiot doing?"

The vehicle was still approaching at speed, making no attempt to slow or turn

so as to present its transfer lock to the lounge's exit port for breathers of

toxic atmospheres. All of the waiting travelers were watching it now, many of

them making noises which did not translate.

The driver is showing off, MacEwan thought. Reflected sunlight from the canopy

obscured the occupant. It was not until the transporter ran into the shadow of

the terminal building that MacEwan saw the figure of the driver slumped face

downward over its control console, but by then it was too late for anyone to do

anything.

Built as it was from tough, laminated plastic nearly a foot thick, the

transparent wall bulged inward but did not immediately shatter as the nose of

the vehicle struck. The control

module and its occupant were instantly flattened into a thin pancake of riven

metal, tangled wiring, and bloody Nidian fur. Then the transporter broke

through.

When the driver had collapsed and lost control, the automatic power cutoff and

emergency braking systems must have been triggered. But in spite of its locked

wheels the transporter skidded ponderously on, enlarging the original break in

the transparent wall and losing sections of its own external plating in the

process. It plowed through the neat rows of Tralthan, Melfan, Kelgian, and

Illensan furniture. The heavy, complex structures were ripped from their floor

mountings and hurled aside along with the beings unfortunate enough to still be

occupying them. Finally the transporter ground to a halt against one of the

building's roof support pillars, which bent alarmingly but did not break. The

shock brought down most of the lounge's ceiling panels and with them a choking,

blinding cloud of dust.

All around MacEwan extraterrestrials were coughing and floundering about and

making untranslatable noises indicative of pain and distress, Grawlya-Ki

included. He blinked dust out of his eyes and saw that the Orligian was

crouched, apparently uninjured, beside the transporter. Both of its enormous,

furry hands were covering its face and it looked as if it would shake itself

apart with the violence of its coughing. MacEwan kicked loose debris out of the

way and moved toward it. Then his eyes began to sting and, just in time, he

covered his mouth and nose to keep from inhaling the contaminated air.

Chlorine!

With his free hand he grasped the Orligian's battle harness and began dragging

it away from the damaged vehicle, wondering angrily why he was wasting his

time. If the internal pressure hull had been ruptured, the whole lounge would be

rendered uninhabitable to oxygen breathers within a few minutes—the Ilknsans'

higher-pressure chlorine atmosphere would see to that. Then he stumbled against

a low, sprawling, membraneous body which was hissing and twitching amid the

debris and realized that it was not only the damaged vehicle which was

responsible for the contamination.

The Illensan must have been hit by the transporter and flung against a Kelgian

relaxer frame, which had collapsed. One of

the support struts had snagged the chlorine breather's pressure* envelope,

ripping it open along the entire length of the body. The oxygen-rich atmosphere

was attacking the unprotected body, coating the skin with a powdery, sickly blue

organic corrosion which was thickest around the two breathing orifices. All body

movement ceased as MacEwan watched, but he could still hear a loud hissing

sound.

Still keeping his mouth and nostrils sealed with one hand, he used the other to

feel along the Illensan's body and pressure envelope. His eyes were stinging

even though they were now tightly shut.

The creature's skin felt hot, slippery, and fibrous, with patterns of raised

lines which made it seem that the whole body was covered by the leaves of some

coarse-textured plant, and there were times when MacEwan did not know whether he

was touching the skin or the ruptured pressure suit. The sound of the pulse in

his head was incredible, like a constant, thudding explosion, and the

constriction in his chest was fast reaching the stage where.he was ready to

inhale even chlorine to stop that fiery, choking pain in his lungs. But he

fought desperately not to breathe, pressing his hand so tightly against his face

that his nose began to bleed.

After what seemed like a couple of hours later, he felt the shape of a large

cylinder with a hose connection and strange-feeling bumps and projections at one

end—the Illensan's air tank. He pulled and twisted desperately at controls

designed for the spatulate digits of an Illensan, and suddenly the hiss of

escaping chlorine ceased.

He turned and staggered away, trying to get clear of the localized cloud of

toxic gas so he could breathe again. But he had gone only a few yards when he

tripped and fell into a piece of broken e-t furniture covered by a tangle of

plastic drapery which had been used to decorate the lounge. His free arm kept

him from injuring himself, but it was not enough to enable him to escape from

the tangle of tubing and plastic which had somehow wrapped itself around his

feet. He opened his eyes and shut them again hastily as the chlorine stung them.

With such a high concentration of gas he could not risk opening his mouth to

shout for help. The noise inside his head was unbelievable. He felt himself

slipping into a roaring, pounding blackness, and there was a tight band gripping

and squeezing his chest.

There was something gripping his chest. He felt it- lifting him, shaking him

free of the debris entangling his arm and legs, and holding him aloft while it

carried him for an unknown distance across the lounge. Suddenly he felt his feet

touch the floor and he opened his eyes and mouth.

The smell of chlorine was still strong but he could breathe and see. Grawlya-Ki

was standing a few feet away, looking concerned and pointing at the blood

bubbling from his nose, and one of the two paint-spraying extraterrestrials was

detaching one of its thick, iron-hard tentacles from around his chest. He was

too busy just breathing again to be able to say anything. "I apologize most

abjectly and sincerely," his rescuer boomed over the sounds being made by the

injured all around them, "if I have in any fashion hurt you, or subjected you to

mental trauma or embarrassment by making such a gross and perhaps intimate

physical contact with your body. I would not have dared touch you at all had not

your Orligian friend insisted that you were in grave danger and requested that I

lift you clear. But if I have given offense—"

"You have not given offense," MacEwan broke in. "On the contrary, you have saved

my life at great risk to your own. That chlorine is deadly stuff to all us

oxygen breathers. Thank you."

It was becoming difficult to speak without coughing because the cloud of gas

from the dead Illensan's suit was spreading, and Grawlya-Ki was already moving

away. MacEwan was about to follow when the creature spoke again.

"I am in no immediate danger." Its eyes glittered at him from behind their hard,

organic shields as it went on. "I am a Hudlar, Earthperson. My species does not

breathe, but absorbs sustenance directly from our atmosphere, which, near the

planetary surface, is analogous to a thick, high-pressure, semigas-eous soup.

Apart from requiring our body surface to be sprayed at frequent intervals with a

nutrient paint, we are not inconvenienced by any but the most corrosive of

atmospheres, and we can even work for lengthy periods in vacuum conditions on

orbital construction projects.

"I am glad to have been of assistance, Earthperson," the Hudlar ended, "but I am

not a hero."

"Nevertheless I am grateful," MacEwan shouted, then stopped moving away. He

waved his hand, indicating the lounge which resembled a battlefield rather than

a luxurious departure point for the stars, and started coughing. Finally he was

able to say, "Pardon me, please, if I am being presumptuous, but is it possible

for you to similarly assist the other beings who have been immobilized by their

injuries and are in danger of asphyxiation?"

The second Hudlar had joined them, but neither spoke. Grawlya-Ki was waving at

him and pointing toward the transparent wall of the Colonel's office where the

Monitor Corps officer was also gesticulating urgently.

"Ki, will you find out what he wants?" MacEwan called to the Orligian. To the

first Hudlar he went on, "You are understandably cautious in the matter of

physically handling members of another species, lest you inadvertently give

offense, and in normal circumstances this would be wholly admirable and the

behavior of a being of sensitivity and intelligence. But this is not a normal

situation, and it is my belief that any accidental physical intimacy committed

on the injured would be forgiven when the intention is purely to give

assistance. In these circumstances a great many beings could die who would

otherwise—"

"Some of them will die of boredom or old age," the second Hudlar said suddenly,

"if we continue to waste time with unnecessary politeness. Plainly we Hudlars

have a physical advantage here. What is it you wish us to do?"

"I apologize most abjectly for my lifemate's ill-considered and hasty remarks,

Earth-human," the first Hudlar said quickly. "And for any offense they may have

given."

"No need. None taken," MacEwan said, laughing in sheer relief until the chlorine

turned it into a cough. He considered prefacing his instructions with advance

apologies for any offense he might inadvertently give to the Hudlars, then

decided that that would be wasting more time. He took a deep, careful breath and

spoke.

"The chlorine level is still rising around that transporter. Would one of you

remove heavy debris from casualties in the

area affected and move them to the entrance to the boarding tunnel, where they

can be moved into the tunnel itself if the level continues to rise. The other

should concentrate on rescuing Illensans by lifting them into their transporter.

There is a lock antechamber just inside the entry port, and hopefully some of

the less seriously injured chlorine breathers will be able to get them through

the lock and give them first aid inside. The Orligian and myself will try to

move the casualties not immediately in danger from the chlorine, and open the

boarding tunnel entrance. Ki, what have you got there?"

The Orligian had returned with more than, a dozen small cylinders, with

breathing masks and straps attached, cradled in both arms. It said,

"Fire-fighting equipment. The Colonel directed me to the emergency locker. But

it's Nidian equipment. The masks won't fit very well, and with some of these

beings they won't fit at all. Maybe we can hold them in position and—"

"This aspect of the problem does not concern us," the first Hudlar broke in.

"Earthperson, what do we do with casualties whose injuries might be compounded

by the assistance of well-meaning rescuers ignorant of the physiology of the

being concerned?"

MacEwan was already tying a cylinder to his chest, passing the attachment over

one shoulder and under the opposite armpit because the Nidian straps were too

short to do otherwise. He said grimly, "We will have that problem, too."

"Then we will use our best judgment," the second Hudlar said, moving ponderously

toward the transporter, followed closely by its lifemate.

"That isn't the only problem," Grawlya-Ki said as it, too, attached a cylinder

to its harness. 'The collision cut our communications and the Colonel can't

tell the terminal authorities about the situation in here, nor does he know what

the emergency services are doing about it. He also says that the boarding

tunnel entrance won't open while there is atmospheric contamination in the

lounge—it is part of the safety system designed to contain such contamination so

that it won't spread along the boarding tunnel to the waiting ship or into the

main concourse. The system can be overridden at this end, but only by a special

key carried by the Nidian senior ground staff member on duty in the lounge. Have

you seen this being?"

"Yes," MacEwan said grimly. "It was standing at the exit port just before the

crash. I think it is somewhere underneath the transporter."

Grawlya-Ki whined quietly, then went on, "The Colonel is using his personal

radio to contact a docked Monitor Corps vessel to try to patch into the port

network that way, but so far without effect. The Nidian rescue teams are doing

all the talking and are not listening to outsiders. But if he gets through he

wants to know what to tell them. The number and condition of the casualties, the

degree of contamination, and optimum entry points for the rescue teams. He wants

to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to him," MacEwan said. He did not know enough to be able

to make a useful situation report, and until he did their time could be used to

much better effect than worrying out loud to the Colonel. He pointed to an

object which looked like a gray, bloodstained sack which twitched and made

untranslatable sounds, and said, "That one first."

The injured Kelgian was difficult to move, MacEwan found, especially when there

was just one Orligian arm and two human ones to take the weight. Grawlya-Ki's

mask was such a bad fit that it had to hold it in position. The casualty was a

caterpillar-like being with more than twenty legs and an overall covering of

silvery fur now badly bloodstained. But the body, although no more massive than

that of a human, was completely flaccid. There seerned to be no skeleton, no

bony parts at all except possibly in the head section, but it felt as though

there were wide, concentric bands of muscle running the length of the body just

underneath the fur.

It rolled and flopped about so much that by the time he had raised it from the

floor, supporting its head and midsection between his outstretched arms and

chest—Grawlya-Ki had the toil gripped between its side and free arm—one of the

wounds began bleeding. Because MacEwan was concentrating on holding the

Kelgian's body immobile as they moved it toward the boarding tunnel entrance,

his mind was not on his feet; they became tangled in a piece of decorative

curtain, and he fell to his knees. Immediately the Kelgian's blood began to well

out at an alarming rate.

"We should do something about that," the Orligian said, its voice muffled by the

too-small mask. "Any ideas?"

The Service had taught MacEwan only the rudiments of first

aid because casualties in a space war tended to be explosive decompressions and

rarely if ever treatable, and what little he had learned applied to beings of

his own species. Serious bleeding was controlled by cutting off the supply of

blood to the wound with a tourniquet or local pressure. The Kelgian's

circulatory system seemed to be very close to its skin, possibly because those

great, circular bands of muscle required lots of blood. But the position of the

veins were hidden by the being's thick fur. He thought that a pad and tight

bandages were the only treatment possible. He did not have a pad and there was

no time to go looking for one, but there was a bandage of sorts still wrapped

loosely around his ankle.

He kicked the length of plastic curtain off his foot, then pulled about two

meters free of the pile of debris which had fallen with it. The stuff was tough

and he needed all his strength to make a transverse tear in it, but it was wide

enough to cover the wound with several inches to spare. With the Orligian's help

he held the plastic in position over the wound and passed the two ends around

the cylindrical body, knotting them very tightly together.

Probably the makeshift bandage was too tight, and where it passed around the

Kelgian's underside it was pressing two sets of the being's legs against the

underbelly in a direction they were not, perhaps, designed to bend, and he hated

to think of what the dust and dirt adhering to the plastic might be doing to

that open wound.

The same thought must have been going through the Orligian's head, because it

said, "Maybe we'll find another Kelgian who isn't too badly hurt and knows what

to do."

But it was a long time before they found another Kelgian— at least, it felt like

an hour even though the big and, strangely, still-functioning lounge clock,

whose face was divided into concentric rings marked off in the time units of the

major Federation worlds, insisted that it-was only ten minutes.

One of the Hudlars had lifted wreckage from two of the crablike Melfans, one of

whom was coherent, seemingly uninjured but unable to see because of the

chlorine or dust. Graw-lya-Ki spoke reassuringly to it and led it away by

grasping a thick, fleshy projection, purpose unknown, growing from its

head. The other Melfan made loud, untranslatable noises. Its carapace was

cracked in several places and of the three legs which should have supported it

on one side, two were limp and useless and one was missing altogether.

MacEwan bent down quickly and slipped his hands and lower arms under the edge of

the carapace between the two useless legs and lifted until the body was at its

normal walking height. Immediately the legs on the other side began moving

slowly. MacEwan sidled along at the same pace, supporting the injured side and

guiding the Melfan around intervening wreckage until he was able to leave it

beside its blinded colleague.

He could think of nothing more to do for it, so he rejoined the Hudlar

excavating among the heavier falls of debris.

They uncovered three more Melfans, injured but ambulatory, who were directed to

the boarding tunnel entrance, and a pair of the elephantine, six-legged

Tralthans who appeared to be uninjured but were badly affected by the gas which

was still leaking steadily from the transporter. MacEwan and Graw-lya-Ki each

held a Nidian breathing mask to one breathing orifice and yelled at them to

close the other. Then they tried desperately not to be trampled underfoot as

they guided the Tralthans to the casualty assembly point. Then they uncovered

two more of the Kelgian caterpillars, one of whom had obviously bled to death

from a deep tear in its flank. The other had five of its rearmost sets of legs

damaged, rendering it immobile, but it was conscious and able to cooperate by

holding its body rigid while they carried it back to the others.

When MacEwan asked the being if it could help the earlier Kelgian casualty he

had tried to bandage, it said that it had no medical training and could think of

nothing further to do.

There were more walking, wriggling, and crawling wounded released from the

wreckage to join the growing crowd of casualties at the tunnel entrance. Some

of them were talking but most were making loud, untranslatable noises which had

to be of pain. The sounds made by the casualties still trapped by fallen

wreckage were slight by comparison.

The Hudlars were working tirelessly and often invisibly in a cloud of

self-created dust, but now they seemed to be un-

covering only organic wreckage of which there was no hope of salvage. There was

another Kelgian who had bled spectacularly to death; two, or it may have been

three, Melfans with crushed and shattered carapaces and broken limbs, and a

Tral-than who had been smashed flat by a collapsing roof beam and was still

trying to move.

MacEwan was afraid to touch any of them in case they fell apart in his hands,

but he could not be absolutely sure that they were beyond help. He had no idea

of their ability to survive major injury, or whether specialized medical

intervention could save them if taken in time. He felt angry and useless and the

chlorine was beginning to penetrate his face mask.

"This being appears to be uninjured," the Hudlar beside them said. It had lifted

a heavy table from a Tralthan who was lying on its side, its six massive legs

twitching feebly and its domelike brain casing, multiple eye-trunk, and thick,

leathery hide free of any visible signs of damage. "Could it be that it is

troubled only by the toxic gas?"

"You're probably right," MacEwan said. He and Grawlya-Ki pressed Nidian masks

over the Tralthan's breathing orifices. Several minutes passed with no sign of

improvement in its condition. MacEwan's eyes were stinging even though he, like

the Orligian, was using one hand to press the mask tightly against his face.

Angrily, he said, "Have you any other ideas?"

The anger was directed at his own helplessness, and he felt like kicking himself

for taking it out on the Hudlar. He could not tell the two beings apart, only

that one tended to sound worried, long-winded, and overly polite, while its

lifemate was more forthright. This one, luckily, was the former.

"It is possible that its injuries are to the flank lying against the floor and

are presently invisible to us," the Hudlar said ponderously. "Or that the being,

which is a squat, heavy-gravity creature with certain physical similarities to

myself, is seriously inconvenienced by being laid on its side. While we Hudlars

can work comfortably in weightless conditions, gravity if present must act

downward or within a very short time serious and disabling organ displacement

occurs. There is also the fact that all Tralthan ships use an artificial gravity

system with multiple failsafe backup, which is just one of the reasons for the

dependability and popularity of Tralthan-built ships. This suggests

that a lateral gravity pull must be avoided by them at all costs, and that this

particular being is—"

"Stop talking about it," the second Hudlar said, joining them, "and lift the

thing."

The Hudlar extended its forward pair of tentacles and, bracing itself with the

other four in front of the Tralthan's weakly moving feet, slid them over the

creature's back and insinuated them between the floor and its other flank.

MacEwan watched as the tentacles tightened, took the strain, and began to

quiver. But the body did not move, and the other Hudlar positioned itself to

assist.

MacEwan was surprised, and worried. He had seen those tentacles, which served

both as ambulatory and manipulatory appendages, lifting beams, major structural

members, and large masses of wreckage seemingly without effort. They were

beautifully evolved limbs, immensely strong and with thick, hardened pads

forming a knuckle on which the being walked while the remainder of the

tentacle—the thinner, more flexible half tipped with a cluster of specialized

digits—was carried curled inward against its underside. The Tralthan they were

trying to move was roughly the mass of an Earthly baby elephant, and the

combined efforts of both Hudlars were shifting it only slightly.

"Wait," MacEwan said urgently. "Both of you have lifted much heavier weights. I

think the Tralthan is caught, perhaps impaled on a structural projection, and

you cannot move it because—"

"We cannot move it," the polite Hudlar said, "because we have been expending

large amounts of energy after insufficient sustenance. Absorption of our last

meal, which was overdue in any case, was halted by the accident after the

process was scarcely begun. We are as weak as infants, as are you and your

Orligian friend. But if you would both go to the other side of the being and

push, your strength, puny as it is, might make a difference."

Perhaps it wasn't the polite one, MacEwan thought as he and Grawlya-Ki did as

suggested. He wanted to apologize to we Hudlars for assuming that they were

simply organic pieces of heavy rescue machinery whose capabilities he had taken

for . But he and Grawlya-Ki had their shoulders under the

side of the Tralthan's cranial dome, their puny efforts were making a

difference, and, unlike Hudlars, MacEwan needed breath with which to speak.

The Tralthan came upright, rocked unsteadily on its six, widely spaced feet,

then was guided toward the other casualties by the Orligian. Sweat as well as

chlorine was in MacEwan's eyes so he did not know which Hudlar spoke, but

presumably it had been the one engaged in lifting injured Illensans into the

damaged transporter.

"I am having difficulty with a chlorine breather, Earthper-son," it said. "The

being is abusive and will not allow me to touch it. The circumstances call for a

very close decision, one I am unwilling to make. Will you speak to it?"

The area around the transporter had been cleared of casualties with the sole

exception of this Illensan, who refused to be moved. The reason it gave MacEwan

was that while its injuries were not serious, its pressure envelope had suffered

two small ruptures. One of these it had sealed, after a fashion, by grasping the

fabric of its envelope around the tear in both manipulators and holding it

tightly closed, while the other one it had sealed by lying on it. These

arrangements had forced it to increase the internal pressure of the envelope

temporarily, so that it no longer had any clear idea of the duration of its

chlorine tank and asphyxiation might be imminent. But it did not want to be

moved to the relative safety of the transporter, which was also leaking, because

that would allow the lethal atmosphere of the lounge to enter its envelope.

"I would prefer to die of chlorine starvation," it ended forcefully, "than have

my breathing passages and lungs instantly corroded by your oxygen. Stay away

from me."

MacEwan swore under his breath but did not approach the Illensan. Where were the

emergency rescue teams? Surely they should have been there by now. The clock

showed that it had been just over twenty-five Earth minutes since the accident.

He could see that the sightseers had been cleared from the lounge's inner wall,

to be replaced by a Nidian television crew and some uninformed ground staff who

did not appear to be doing anything at all. Outside there were heavy vehicles

drawn up and Nidians with backpacks and helmets scurrying around,

but his constantly watering eyes and the ever-present plastic hangings kept him

from seeing details.

MacEwan pointed suddenly at the hangings and said to the Hudlars, "Will you tear

down a large piece of that plastic material, please, and drape it over the

Illensan. Pat it down flat around the being's suit and smooth the folds out

toward the edges so as to exclude our air as much as possible. I'll be back in a

minute."

He hurried around the transporter to the first Illensan casualty, whose body

had turned a livid, powdery blue and was beginning to disintegrate, and tried to

look only at the fastenings of the chlorine tank. It took him several minutes to

get the tank free of the body harness, and several times his bare hands touched

the dead Illensan's flesh, which crumbled like rotting wood. He knew that oxygen

was vicious stuff where chlorine breathers were concerned, but now he could

really sympathize with the other Illensan's panic at the thought of being moved

in a leaking suit.

When he relumed it was Grawlya-Ki who was smoothing out the plastic around the

Illensan while the two Hudlars were standing clear. One of them said

apologetically, "Our movements have become somewhat uncoordinated and the

chlorine breather was worried lest we accidentally fall on it. If there is

something else we can do—"

"Nothing," MacEwan said firmly.

He turned on the tap of the chlorine tank and slipped it quickly under the

plastic sheet and pushed it close to the Illensan. The extra seepage of the gas

would make little difference, he thought, because the whole area around the

transporter was fast becoming uninhabitable for oxygen breathers. He pressed the

tiny mask hard against his face and took a long, careful breath through his

nose, and used it to speak to the Hudlars.

"I have been thoughtless and seemingly ungrateful for the fine work you have

been doing here," he said. "There is nothing more that you can do. Please go at

once and spray yourselves with the necessary nutrient. You have acted most

unselfishly, and I am, as are we all, most grateful to you."

The two Hudlars did not move. MacEwan began placing

pieces of debris around the edges of the plastic and the Orligian, who was quick

on the uptake, began doing the same. Soon the edges were held tightly against

the floor, the gas escaping from the tank was beginning to inflate the plastic,

and they had the Illensan in a crude chlorine tent. Still the Hudlars had not

moved.

"The Colonel is waving at you again," Grawlya-Ki said. "I would say with

impatience."

"We cannot use our sprayers here, Earthperson," one of the Hudlars said before

MacEwan could reply. "The absorption mechanism in our tegument would ingest the

toxic gas with our food, and in our species trace amounts of chlorine are

lethal. The food sprayers can only be used in a beneficent atmosphere or in

airless conditions."

"Bloody hell!" MacEwan said. When he thought of the way the Hudlars had worked

to free the casualties, knowing that their time and available energy was

severely limited and letting him assume that they had no problems, he should

have had more to say—but that was all that came out. He looked helplessly at

Ki, but the Orligian's face was covered by its furry hand holding the

ridiculously small mask.

"With us," the other Hudlar added, "starvation is a rapid process, somewhat akin

to asphyxiation in a gas breather. I estimate that we should lose consciousness

and die in just under eight of our small time divisions."

MacEwan's eyes went to the concentric circles of the lounge clock. The Hudlar

was talking about the equivalent of about twenty Earth minutes. Somehow they had

to get that boarding tunnel open.

"Go to the tunnel entrance," he said, "and try to conserve your strength. Wait

beside the others until—" He broke off awkwardly, then said to the Orligian,

"Ki, you'd better get over there as well. There's enough chlorine in the air

here to bleach your fur. Keep passing the masks around and—'"

"The Colonel," Grawlya-Ki reminded him as it turned to follow the Hudlars.

MacEwan waved acknowledgment, but before he could leave the Illensan began

speaking, its voice muffled by the fabric of the makeshift chlorine tent.

"That was an ingenious idea, Earthperson," it said slowly-"There is now a

beneficent atmosphere surrounding my

sure envelope, which will enable me to repair the torn fabric and survive until

Illensan assistance arrives. Thank you."

"You're welcome," MacEwan said, and began picking his way over the debris toward

the gesticulating figure of the Colonel. He was still several meters from the

wall when the officer pointed to his ear, then rapped with a knuckle on the

interior surface. MacEwan obediently unfastened his mask on one side and pressed

an ear against the transparent wall. The other's voice was low and indistinct,

even though the color of the Colonel's face showed that he was shouting.

"Listen, MacEwan, and don't try to answer yet," the Colonel shouted.

"We'll have you out of there in fifteen, twenty minutes at most, and you'll have

fresh air in ten. Medical help for all of the casualty species is on the way.

Everybody on the planet knows about the accident because the TV channels were

covering your deportation as a news item, and now this is big news indeed.

Their contact mikes and translators are bringing us every word said in there,

and the authorities are insisting that every effort be made to speed up the

rescue___"

Across the lounge Grawlya-Ki was waving a mask and air tank above his head. When

the Orligian was sure that MacEwan had seen it; he threw it away. None of the

other casualties were wearing masks so obviously they were useless, their air

tanks empty. He wondered how long his own tank would last.

The equipment had been designed for the diminuitive Nidians, whose lungs were

less than half the capacity of an Earth-Arson's. A lot of air had been wasted

during the continual Passing of masks between the casualties, and the furry face

of the Orligian would have allowed air to leak past the edges of its mask,

especially if Grawlya-Ki had increased the pressure to exclude the chlorine.

The Colonel had seen the Orligian's action and must have leapt to the same

conclusion.

' 'Tell them to hang on for just a few more minutes," he went on. "We can't cut

a way in from the main concourse because there are too many unprotected people

out there. That plastic wall is tough and needs special, high-temperature

equipment to cut it,. Anyway, -accidents,with the plastic tproduce large

quantities of highly toxic fumes, bad enough to make your chlorine problem seem

like a bad smell.

"So they're going in through the hole made by the transporter. There is only a

few inches clearance around the vehicle's hull now, but they're going to pull

the transporter out backward and you will be brought out through the hole it

made and into the fresh air, where the medics will be standing by—"

MacEwan began banging with his fist and a foot against the plastic to attract

the Colonel's attention, and breathing as deeply as he could through the mask.

He had some shouting to do himself.

'No.'" MacEwan said loudly, putting his mouth as close to the wall as the mask

would allow: "All but one of the injured Illensans are inside the transporter.

The structure was damaged in the collision and is leaking chlorine from every

seam. If you drag it out like that it is likely to fall apart and the air will

get to the casualties. I've seen what exposure to oxygen did to one of them."

"But if we don't go in there fast the oxygen breathers will die," the Colonel

replied. His face was no longer red now, but a sickly white.

MacEwan could almost see the way the officer's mind was working. If the

transporter with the chlorine-breathing casualties on board was hauled out and

it broke up, the Illensan authorities would not be amused. But neither would the

governments of Traltha, Kelgia, Melf, Orligia, and Earth if they did not act

quickly to save those people.

This was how an interstellar war could start.

With the media covering every incident as it occurred, with their contact mikes

picking up every translated word as it was spoken, and with fellow beings of the

casualties' species on Nidia watching, judging, feeling, and reacting, there was

no possibility of this incident being hushed up or diplomatically smoothed over.

The decision to be taken was a simple one: Certain death for seven or eight

chlorine-breathing Illensans to possibly save triple that number of Tralthans,

Hudlars, Kel-gians, Melfans, many of whom were dying anyway. Or death by

chlorine poisoning for the oxygen breathers.

MacEwan could not make the decision and neither, he saw, could the pale,

sweating, and silent Colonel trapped inside his

office. He banged for attention again and shouted, "Open the boarding tunnel!

Blast it open from the other side if you have to. Rig fans or pump in fresh air

from the ship to raise the tunnel pressure and keep back this chlorine. Then

send the emergency team to this end of the tunnel and open it from the inside.

Surely the wiring of the safety system can be short-circuited and—"

While he was talking, MacEwan was thinking about the distance between the tunnel

entrance and the take-off apron. It would take a long time to traverse the

tunnel if the fast walkway was not operating. And explosives might not be

quickly available in an air and space terminal. Maybe the Monitor Corps vessel

in dock could provide some, given time, but the time they had was to be measured

in minutes.

"The safety system is triggered from your end," the Colonel broke in. "The other

end of the tunnel is too close to the ship for explosives to be used. The vessel

would have to take off first and that would waste more time. The system can only

be overriden at your end by a special key, carried by the Nidian on lounge duty,

which unlocks the cover of the tunnel controls. The cover is transparent and

unbreakable. You see, contamination can be a killer in a big complex like this

one, especially when you consider that chlorine is mild compared with the stuff

some of the offworlders breathe—"

MacEwan thumped the wall again and said, "The Nidian with the key is buried

under the transporter, which can't be moved. And who says the cover is

unbreakable? There is bar metal, furniture supports, among the wreckage. If I

can't unlock the cover then I'll try levering or bashing it off. Find out what

I'm supposed to do when it is off."

But the Colonel was ahead of him. He had already asked the Nidians that same

question. In order, to make accidental operation impossible for non-Nidian

digits, the tunnel controls *ere in the form of six recessed buttons, which had

to be Depressed in a certain sequence. MacEwan would have to use -.stylus or

something similar to operate them because his Earthly fingers were too thick. He

listened carefully, signaled that he understood, then returned to the

casualties.

Grawlya-Ki had heard MacEwan's half of the shouted con-versation and had found

two lengths of metal. It was using one

of them to attack the console when he arrived. The metal was a strong-enough

alloy, but lacked the necessary weight and inertia. The metal bounced or skidded

off the cover every time they swung at it, without leaving a mark.

Damn the Nidians and their superhard plastics! MacEwan raged. He tried to lever

off the cover, but the join was almost invisible and the fastenings were flush

with the console pedestal. He swore and tried again.

The Orligian did not speak because it was coughing all the time now, and the

chlorine was affecting its eyes so badly that more often than not its blows

missed the console altogether. MacEwan was beginning to feel an impairment in

his own air supply, as if the tank were nearly empty and he was sucking at air

which was not there, instead drawing in the contaminated air of the lounge

through the edges of his mask.

Around them the casualties were still moving, but jerkily, as if they were

struggling in the final stages of asphyxiation. The movements were not helping

their injuries. Only the two Hudlars were motionless; their six tentacular limbs

supported them just a few inches above the floor. MacEwan raised the metal bar

high, stood on his toes, and brought it down-as hard as he could.

He grunted in pain as the shock jarred his arms from wrist to shoulders and the

bar slipped out of his hands. He swore again and looked around helplessly.

The Colonel was watching him through his glass-walled office. Through the inner

wall of the lounge MacEwan could see the cameras of the Nidian TV networks

watching him, listening and recording every word and cough and groan of those

inside. Beyond the outer wall, now that the dust had settled and most of the

intervening draperies had been pulled down, he could see the crews of the heavy

Nidian towing vehicles watching him. He had only to signal to the Colonel and

the emergency team would drag out the damaged transporter and medics would be

attending the casualties within a few minutes.

But how would the fllensans as a species react to that? They were highly

advanced technologically, occupying scores of colony worlds which they had had

to adapt to their environmental needs, and, despite being the most widely

traveled race in the

Federation, they were a virtually unknown quantity because their worlds were so

dangerous and unpleasant that few , indeed, were the visitors they received.

Would they hold Nidia responsible for the accident and the deaths of their

people? Or the worlds of the other warm-blooded, oxygen breathers whose people

had survived at the expense of the Illensans?

And if everybody dithered and remained undecided until all but the Illensans had

died, how would the world governments of Kelgia, Traltha, Melf, Orligia, and

Earth react?

They would probably not gang up on Illensa, nor would the war start over this

incident — not officially. But the seeds would have been planted no matter which

races were saved or sacrificed, or even if all of them died. It would start,

not because anyone wanted it, but because of a highly improbable accident with a

number of contributing factors most of which could have been avoided.

Even the sudden collapse of the Nidian driver at the controls of the transporter

could have been avoided by keeping closer medical checks .on the ground staff.

It had been sheer bad luck that the incident had happened when it did, and then

the too rigidly designed safety system had done the rest. But most of the deaths

would occur, MacEwan thought angrily, because of ignorance and fear — everyone

was too frightened and over-polite to have asked the offworlders for a few basic

lessons in first aid.

Beside him Grawlya-Ki was on its knees, coughing but still gripping its metal

bar. At any moment the Colonel would make his decision because MacEwan, the

Earth-being on the spot, was too much of a moral coward to make it. But whether

the Colonel decided to save the Illensans or the others he would _-* wrong.

MacEwan moved closer to one of the motionless Hudlars and waved a hand in front

of one of its large, widely spaced eyes.

For several interminable seconds there was no response. He was beginning to

wonder if the being was already dead when

said, "What is it, Earthperson?"

MacEwan took a deep breath through his nose and found at his air had run out.

For a moment he panicked and almost through his mouth, but stopped himself in

time. Using the air remaining in his nearly empty lungs, he pointed to the

console cover and said, "Are you able to break open the cover? Just the cover. I

can... operate... controls..."

Desperately he fought the urge to suck the chlorine-laden air into his deflated

lungs as the Hudlar slowly extended a tentacle and curled it around the cover.

It slipped off the smooth, hemispheric surface. The Hudlar tried again without

success, then it withdrew the tentacle slightly and jabbed at it with its sharp,

steel-hard digits. A small scratch appeared on the cover but the material showed

no sign of cracking. The tentacle withdrew, farther this time.

There was a roaring in MacEwan's head which was the loudest sound he had ever

heard, and big, throbbing patches of darkness obscured the Hudlar as it made

another attempt to break through the cover. MacEwan shrugged off his tunic,

bunched it tightly in his fist and pressed it against his mouth as a makeshift

filter. With his other hand he pressed the Nidian mask against his face to

protect his eyes, at least, from the chlorine. He inhaled carefully and tried

not to cough as the Hudlar swung its tentacle back for another try.

This time it struck like a battering ram and the cover, console, and even the

floor supports exploded into their component parts.

"I am sorry for my clumsiness," the Hudlar said slowly. "Food deprivation

impairs my judgment—"

It broke off as a loud, double chime sounded and the boarding tunnel doors slid

open, bathing them suddenly in a wash of cool, pure air. A recorded voice was

saying, "Will passengers please mount the moving way of the boarding tunnel and

have their travel documents ready for inspection."

The two Hudlars found enough strength between them to lift the heavier

casualties onto the moving way before they got on themselves, after which they

began spraying each other with nutrient and making untranslatable noises. By

then members of the Nidian emergency services, followed by a couple of Illensan

and other offworlder medics, were hurrying in the opposite direction along the

static borders of the moving way.

The incident had placed a six-hour hold on the Tralthan ship's departure, time

for the less severe casualties to be treated and taken on board while the others

were moved to the various

offworlder accommodations in the city where they could be under the close

supervision of medics of their own species. The transporter, empty of its

Illensan casualties, had been withdrawn and a cold wind from the field blew

through the gap in the transparent wall.

Grawlya-Ki, MacEwan, and the Colonel were standing beside the entrance to the

boarding tunnel. The multichronometer above them indicated that take-off was

less than half an Earth hour away.

The Colonel touched a piece of the demolished console with his boot and did not

look at them when he spoke. "You were lucky. We were all lucky. I hate to think

of the repercussions if you had failed to get all the casualties away. But you,

both of you and the Hudlars, were instrumental in saving all but five of them,

and they would have died in any case."

He gave an embarrassed laugh and looked up. "The offworld medics say some of

your ideas on first aid are horrendous in their simplicity, but you didn't kill

anybody and actually saved lives. You did it in full view of the media, with all

of Nidia and its offworld visitors looking on, and you made your point about

closer and more honest contact between species in a way that we are not going to

forget. You are heroes again and I think—no, damn it, I'm sure—that you have

only to ask and the Nidians will rescind their deportation order."

"We're going home," MacEwan said firmly. "To Orligia and Earth."

The Colonel looked even more embarrassed. He said, "I can understand your

feelings about this sudden change in attitude. But now the authorities are

grateful. Everybody, Nidians and offworlders alike, wants to interview you, and

you can be sure that your ideas will be listened to. But if you require some

form of public apology, I could arrange something."

MacEwan shook his head. "We are leaving because we have |he answer to the

problem. We have found the area of common interest to which ail offworlders will

subscribe, a project in which they will gladly cooperate. The answer was obvious

all along but until today we were too stupid to see it.

"Implementing the solution," he went on, smiling, "is not a job for two tired

old veterans who are beginning to bore People. It will take an organization like

your Monitor Corps

to coordinate the project, the technical resources of half a dozen planets, more

money than I can conceive of, and a very, very

long time-----"

As he continued, MacEwan was aware of excited movement among the members of the

video team who had stayed behind hoping for an interview with Grawlya-Ki and

himself. They would not get an interview but they were recording his final words

to the Colonel. And when the Orligian and the Earth-person turned to leave they

also got a not very interesting picture of the ranking Monitor Corps officer on

Nidia standing very still, with one arm bent double so that the hand was held

stiffly against the head. There was an odd brightness in the Earth-person's eyes

and an expression on the pink, furless face which they were, naturally, unable

to read.

It took a very long time, much longer than the most generous estimates. The

original and relatively modest plans had to be continually extended because

scarcely a decade passed without several newly discovered intelligent species

joining the Federation and these, too, had to be accommodated. So gigantic and

complex was the structure required that in the end hundreds of worlds had each

fabricated sections of it and transported them like pieces of a vast,

three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle to the assembly area.

. The tremendous structure which had finally taken shape in Galactic Sector

Twelve was a hospital, a hospital to end all hospitals. In its 384 levels were

reproduced the environments of all the different life-forms who comprised the

Galactic Federation—a biological spectrum ranging from the frigid, methane

life-forms through the more normal oxygen and chlorine-breathing types, up to

the exotic beings who existed by the direct conversion of hard radiation.

Sector Twelve General Hospital represented a twofold miracle of engineering and

psychology. Its supply, maintenance, and administration were handled by the

Monitor Corps, but the traditional friction between the military and civilian

members of the staff did not occur. Neither were there any serious

disagreements among its ten thousand-odd medical personnel, who were composed

of over sixty differing life-forms with the same number of mannerisms, body

odors, and life views.

Perhaps their only common denominator, regardless of size, shape, and number of

legs, was their need to cure the sick.

And in the vast dining hall used by the hospital's warmblooded,

oxygen-breathing life-forms there was a small dedication plaque just inside the

main entrance. The Kelgian, Ian, Melfan, Nidian, Etlan, Orligian, Dwerlan,

Tralthan, and Earth-human medical and maintenance staff rarely had time to look

at the names inscribed on it, because they were all too busy talking shop,

exchanging other-species gossip, and eating at tables with utensils all too

often designed for the needs of an entirely different life-form—it was a very

busy place, after all, and one grabbed a seat where one could. But then that was

the way Grawlya-Ki and MacEwan had wanted it.

SURVIVOR

FOR more than an hour Senior Physician Conway had been dividing his attention

between the interstellar emptiness outside the direct vision port and the

long-range sensor display, which showed surrounding space to be anything but

empty, and feeling more depressed with every minute that Passed. Around him the

officers on Rhabwar's Control Deck were radiating impatience—but inaudibly,

because they all knew that when their ship was at the scene of a disaster it was

the senior medical officer on board who had the rank.

"Only one survivor," he said dully.

From the Captain's position, Fletcher said, "We've been fortunate on previous

missions, Doctor. More often than not this is all an ambulance ship finds. Just

think of what must have happened here."

Conway did not reply because he had been thinking of little ekse for the past

hour.

An interstellar vessel of unknown origin and fully three times the mass of their

ambulance ship had suffered a catastrophic malfunction which had reduced it to

finely divided and widely scattered wreckage. Analysis of the temperature and

relative motions showed the debris to be much too cool to have been at the

center of a nuclear explosion less than seven hours earlier, when the distress

beacon had been automatically released. It was obvious, therefore, that the ship

had lost one of its hypergenerators and it had not been of a sufficiently

advanced design for the occupants, with one exception, to have any chance of

surviving the accident.

On Federation ships, Conway knew, if one of the matched set of hyperdrive

generators failed suddenly, the others were designed to cut out simultaneously.

The vessel concerned emerged safely into normal space somewhere between the

stars, to sit there helplessly, unable to make it home on impulse drive, until

it either repaired its sick generator or help arrived. But there were times when

the safety cutoffs had failed or been late in functioning, which meant that

while a part of the ship had continued for a split second at hyperspeed the

remainder was braked instantaneously to sublight velocity. The effect on the

early hyperships had been, to say the least, catastrophic.

"The survivor's species must be relatively new to hyper-travel," Conway said,

"or they would be using the modular design philosophy which we, from long

experience, know to be the only structural form which enables a proportion of a

ship's crew to survive when a sudden hypergenerator imbalance tears the vessel

apart around them. I can't understand why the section containing the survivor

wasn't fragmented like the rest."

The Captain was visibly controlling his impatience as he replied, "You were too

busy getting the survivor out before the compartment lost any more air and

decompression was added to its other problems, Doctor, to have time for

structural observations. The compartment was a separate unit, purpose unknown,

which was mounted outboard of the main hull and joined by a short access tube

and airlock, and it simply broke away in one piece. That beastie was very

lucky." He gestured toward the long-range sensor displays. "But now we know that

the remaining pieces of wreckage are too small to contain survivors and frankly,

Doctor, we are wasting time here."

"I agree," Conway said absently.

"Right," Fletcher said briskly. "Power Room, prepare to Jump in five—"

"Hold, Captain," Conway broke in quietly. "1 hadn't fin- ^

ished. I want a scoutship out here, more than one if they can be spared, to

search the wreckage for personal effects, photographs, solid and pictorial an,

anything which will assist in reconstructing the survivor's environment and

culture. And request Federation Archives for any information on an intelligent

life-form of physiological classification EGCL. Since this is a new species to

us, the cultural contact people will want this information as soon as possible,

and if our survivor continues to survive, the hospital will need it the day

before yesterday.

"Tag the signals with Sector General medical first-contact priority coding," he

went on, "then head for home. I'll be on the Casualty Deck."

Rhabwar's communications officer, Haslam, was already preparing for the

transmission when Conway stepped into the gravity-free central well and began

pulling himself toward the Casualty Deck amidships. He broke his journey briefly

to visit his cabin and get out of the heavy-duty spacesuit he had been wearing

since the rescue. He felt as though every bone and muscle in his body was

aching. The rescue and transfer of the survivor to Rhabwar had required intense

muscular activity, followed by a three-hour emergency op, and another hour

sitting still in Control. No wonder he felt stiff.

Try to think about something else, Conway told himself firmly. He exercised

briefly to ease his cramped muscles but the dull, unlocalized aching persisted.

Angrily he wondered if he was becoming a hypochondriac.

"Subspace radio transmission in five seconds," the muted voice of Lieutenant

Haslam said from the cabin speaker. "Ex-Pect the usual fluctuations in the

lighting and artificial gravity systems."

As the cabin lights flickered and the deck seemed to twitch under his feet,

Conway was forced to think of something else— specifically, the problems

encountered in transmitting intelli-Sence over interstellar distances compared

with the relative simplicity of sending a distress signal.

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 spec-iment 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?"

"You know I wasn't," Conway said, opening his eyes to see Prilicla clinging to

the ceiling above him, trembling uncontrollably as it was washed by his own and

the patient's emotional radiation.

Doctor Prilicla was of physiological classification GLNO— an insectile,

exoskeletal, six-legged life-form with two pairs of iridescent and not quite

atrophied wings and possessing a highly developed empathic faculty. Only on

Cinruss, with its dense atmosphere and one-eighth gravity, could a race of

insects have grown to such dimensions and in time developed intelligence and an

advanced civilization.

But in both the hospital and Rhabwar, Prilicla was in deadly danger for most of

its working day. It had to wear gravity nullifiers everywhere outside its own

special quarters because the gravity pull which the majority of its colleagues

considered normal would instantly have crushed it flat. When Prilicla held

a conversation with anyone it kept well out of reach of any thoughtless movement

of an arm or tentacle which would easily have caved in its eggshell body or

snapped off one of the incredibly fragile limbs.

Not that anyone would have wanted to hurt the little being— it was far too well

liked. The Cinrusskin's empathic faculty forced it to be considerate to everyone

in order to make the emotional radiation of the people around it as pleasant for

itself as possible—except when its professional duties exposed it to pain and

associated violent emotion in a patient or to the unintentionally unpleasant

feelings of its colleagues.

"You should be sleeping, Prilicla," Conway said with concern, "or are Murchison

and Naydrad emoting too loudly for you?"

"No, friend Conway," the empath replied timidly. "Their emotional radiation

troubles me no more than that of the other people on the ship. I came for a

consultation."

"Good!" Conway said. "You've had some useful thoughts on the treatment of our—"

"I wish to consult you about myself," Prilicla said, committing the—to it—gross

impoliteness of breaking in on another's conversation without prior apology.

For a moment its pipestem legs and body shook with the strength of Conway's

reaction, then it added, "Please, my friend, control your feelings."

Conway tried to be clinical about the little Cinrusskin who had been his friend,

colleague, and invaluable assistant on virtually every major case since his

promotion to Senior Physician. His sudden concern and unadmitted fear of the

possible loss of a close friend were not helping that friend and were, in fact,

causing it even greater distress. He tried hard to think of Prilicla as a

patient, only as a patient, and slowly the empath's trembling abated.

"What," Conway said in time-honored fashion, "seems to be the trouble?"

"I do not know," the Cinrusskin said. "I have no previous experience and there

are no recorded instances of the condition among my species. I am confused,

friend Conway, and frightened."

"Symptoms?" Conway asked.

"Empathic hypersensitivity," Prilicla replied. "The emotional radiation of

yourself, the rest of the medical team, and the crew is particularly strong. I

can clearly detect the feelings of Lieutenant Chen in the Power Room and those

of the rest of the crew in Control with little or no attenuation with distance.

The expected, low-key feelings of disappointment and sorrow caused by the

unsuccessful rescue bid are reaching me with shocking intensity. We have

encountered these tragedies before now, friend Conway, but this emotional

reaction to the condition of a being who is a complete stranger is—is—"

"We do feel bad about this one," Conway broke in gently, "perhaps worse than we

normally do, and the feelings are cumulative. And you, as an emotion-sensitive,

could be expected to feel them much more strongly. This might explain your

apparent hypersensitivity."

The empath trembled with the effort needed to express disagreement. It said,

"No, friend Conway. The condition and emotional radiation of the EGCL, highly

unpleasant though it is, is not the problem. It is the ordinary, everyday

radiation of everyone else—the minor embarrassments, the bursts of irritation,

the odd emotions associated with the feeling you Earth-humans call humor and the

like, are registering so strongly with me that I find difficulty in thinking

clearly."

"1 see," Conway said automatically, although he could not see at all. "Apart

from the hypersensitivity, are there any other symptoms?"

"Some unlocalized discomfort in the limbs and lower thorax," Prilicla replied.

"I checked the areas with my scanner but could find no obstructions or

abnormalities."

Conway had been reaching for his own pocket scanner but thought better of it.

Without taking a Cinrusskin physiology tape he would have only a vage idea of

what to look for, and Prides, Prilicla was a first-class diagnostician and

surgeon and if it said that there were no abnormalities then that was good

enough for Conway.

'Cinrusskins are susceptible to illness only during childhood," Prilicla went

on. "The adults do occasionally suffer from nonphysical disturbances, and the

onset of symptoms, as

expected with psychological disorders, takes many forms, some of which resemble

my present—"

"Nonsense, you're not going insane!" Conway broke in. But he did not feel as

sure as he sounded, and he was uncomfortably aware that Prilicla knew his

feelings and was beginning to tremble again.

"The obvious course," Conway said, trying to regain his clinical calm, "is to

desensitize you with a hefty sedative shot. You know that as well as I. But you

are too good a doctor to self-administer the indicated medication which would,

we both realize, simply be treating the symptoms, without first doing something

about the disease, like reporting it to me. Isn't that so?"

'That is so, friend Conway."

"Right, then," Conway said briskly. "You also realize that we can't do anything

about curing the condition until we have you back in the hospital. In the

meantime we'll treat the symptoms with heavy sedation. I want you completely

unconscious. You are relieved of all medical duties, naturally, until we have

the answer to your little problem."

Conway could almost feel the little empath's objections while he was lifting it

gently into a pressure litter fitted with gravity nullifiers and the incredibly

soft restraints required by this uftrafragile species. Finally Prilicla spoke.

"Friend Conway," it said weakly, "you know that I am the only medically trained

empath on the staff. Our patient wiil require extensive and delicate cerebral

surgery. If my condition precludes me from taking a direct part in the

operation, I wish to be treated in an adjacent ward where this abnormal

hyper-sensitivity will better enable me to monitor the EGCL's unconscious

emotional radiation.

"You know as well as I do," it went on, "that brain surgery in a hitherto

unknown life-form is largely exploratory and very, very risky, and my empathic

faculty enables me to sense when surgical intervention in any area is right or

wrong. By becoming a patient I have lost none of my abilities as a diagnostic

empath, and for this reason, friend Conway, I want your promise that I will be

placed as close as possible to the patient and restored to full consciousness

while the operation is in progress."

"Well—" Conway began.

"I am not a telepath, as you know," Prilicla said, so weakly that Conway had to

increase the gain on his translator to hear

it. "But your feelings, if you do not intend to keep this promise, will be clear

to me."

Conway had never known the normally timid Prilicla to be so forthright in its

manner. Then he thought of what the empath was asking him to do—to subject it,

in its hypersensitive state, to the emotional trauma of a lengthy operation

during which, because of the patient's strange physiological classification and

metabolism, the effectiveness of the anesthetics could not be guaranteed. His

hard-held clinical detachment slipped for a moment and he felt like any

concerned friend or relative watching a patient whose prognosis was uncertain.

Prilicla began to shake in its harness, but the sedative was taking effect, and

very soon it was unconscious and untroubled by Conway's feelings for it.

"This is Reception," a flat, translated voice said from the Control Deck's main

speaker. "Identify yourself, please. State whether visitor, patient, or staff

and give physiological classification. If unable to do so because of physical

injury, mental confusion, or ignorance of the classification system, please make

vision contact."

Conway cleared his throat and said briskly, "Ambulance ship Rhabwar, Senior

Physician Conway. Staff and two patients, all warm-blooded oxygen breathers.

Staff classifications are Earth-human DBDG, Cinrusskin GLNO, and Kelgian DBLF.

One patient is an EGCL, origin unknown, space wreck casualty in condition nine.

The second patient is also staff, a GLNO in condition three. We need—"

"Prilicla?"

"Yes, Prilicla," Conway said. "We need matching environment OR and postop

intensive care facilities for the EGCL, treatment to begin on arrival, and

adjacent accommodation for the GLNO whose empathic faculty may be required

during the operation. Can do?"

There was silence for a few minutes, then Reception said, 'Use Entry Lock Nine

into Level One Six Three, Rhabwar.

Your traffic coding is Priority Red One. ETA?"

Fletcher looked across at his astrogator, and Lieutenant Dodds said, "Two hours,

seven minutes, sir."

"Wait," Reception said.

There was another silence, much longer this time, before the voice returned.

"Diagnostician Thornnastor wishes to discuss the patient's condition and

metabolic profile with Pathologist Murchison and yourself as soon as possible.

Senior Physician Edanelt has been assigned to assist Thomnastor during the

operation. Both require information on the type and extent of the EGCL's

injuries and want you to transmit surface and deep-scan pictures at once. Until

otherwise instructed you are assigned to the Cinrusskin patient. As soon as

possible Chief Psychologist O'Mara wants to talk to you about Prilicla."

It promised to be a very busy two hours and seven minutes.

In Rhabwar's forward viewscreen the hospital grew from a fuzzy smear of light

against the stellar background until it seemed to fill all of space like a

gigantic, cylindrical Christmas tree. Its thousands of viewports blazed with

light in the dazzling variety of color and intensity necessary for the visual

equipment of its patients and staff.

Within a few minutes of Rhabwar docking at Lock Nine, the EGCL and Prilicla had

been moved into Operating Room Three and Ward Seven respectively on Level 163.

Con way was not familiar with this particular level because it had still been in

the process of conversion from the old FROB, FGLI, and ELNT medics' quarters

when he had been detached for ambulance ship duty. Now the Tralthans, Hudlars,

and Melfans had more spacious accommodations and their old abode had become the

emergency admission and treatment level for warmblooded oxygen breathers, with

its own operating theaters, intensive care units, observation and recovery

wards, and a diet kitchen which could reproduce the staples of every known

warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing race.

While Naydrad and Conway were transferring the EGCL casualty from the litter's

portable life-support and biosensor systems to those of the operating room,

Thornnastor and Edanelt arrived.

Senior Physician Edanelt had been the natural if not the inevitable choice for

this case. Not only was it one of the hospital's top surgeons, the permanent

possessor of four physiology tapes and, according to the grapevine, a being

shortly to be elevated to Diagnostician status, the crablike Melfan's

physiological classification of ELNT was perhaps the closes'

of all the life-forms on the medical staff to that of the EGCL survivor—a

vitally important factor when no physiology tape was available for the patient

being treated. Where Thornnastor, the elephantine Diagnostician-in-Charge of

Pathology, was concerned there were no physical similarities to the patient at

all, other than that they breathed the same air.

In spite of being a Tralthan FGLI and as such one of the more massive

intelligent species in the Federation, Thornnastor was no mean surgeon itself.

But on this case its primary responsibility was the rapid investigation of the

survivor's physiology and metabolism and, using its own vast experience in the

field of e-t pathology together with the facilities available in its department,

the synthesizing of the required medication which would 'iclude a safe

anesthetic, coagulant, and tissue regenerative.

Edanelt and Conway had already discussed the case in detail on the way in, as

had Murchison and her chief, Thomnastor. He knew that their initial efforts

would be directed toward repairing the grosser structural damage, after which

would come the extremely delicate, dangerous, and perhaps impossible operation

to relieve the pressure on and repair the damage to the brain and adjacent

organs caused by the extensive depressed fracturing of the carapace. At that

stage the assistance of Prilicla and its wonderfully sensitive and precise

empathic faculty would be required to monitor the operation if the EGCL was to

continue to survive as something more than a vegetable.

Conway's presence was no longer needed, and he would be more usefully employed

discussing Prilicla's condition with O'Mara.

As he excused himself and left, Edanelt waved a pincer it was spraying with the

fast-setting plastic film favored by the Melfan medics instead of surgical

gloves, but Thornastor's four eyes were on the patient, Murchison, and two

separate pieces of its equipment so that it did not see him leave.

In the corridor Conway stopped for a moment to work out the fastest route to the

Chief Psychologist's office. The three levels above this one, he knew, were the

province of the chlor-

e-breathing Illensans, and if he had not known that then the

anticontamination warnings above the interlevel airlocks would

have told him. There was no danger of contamination from the

levels below since they housed the MSVK and LSVO life-forms, each of which

breathed oxygen, required a gravity pull of one-quarter Earth normal, and

resembled thin, tripedal storks. Below them were the water-filled wards of the

Chalders and then the first of the nonmedical treatment levels where O'Mara's

department was situated.

On the way down a couple of the Nallajim MSVK medics chirped a greeting at him

and a recuperating patient narrowly missed flying into his chest before he

reached the lock into the AUGL section. For that leg of the journey he had to

don a lightweight suit and swim through the vast tanks where the thirty-meters

long, water-breathing inhabitants of the water world of Chalderscol drifted

ponderously like armorplated crocodiles in their warm, green wards. With his

suit still beaded with Chalder water, he was in O'Mara's office just

twenty-three minutes later.

Major O'Mara indicated a piece of furniture designed for the comfort of a DBLF

and said sourly, "No doubt you have been too busy in your professional capacity

to contact me, Doctor, so don't waste time apologizing. Tell me about

Pril-icla."

Conway insinuated himself carefully into the Kelgian chair and began describing

the Cinrusskin's condition, from the symptoms at onset to their intensification

to the degree where complete sedation was indicated, and the relevant

circumstance pertaining at the time. While he was speaking, the Chief

Psychologist's craggy features were still and his eyes, which opened into a

mind so keenly analytical that it gave O'Mara what amounted to a telepathic

faculty, were likewise unreadable.

As Chief Psychologist of the Federation's largest multien-vironment hospital, he

was responsible for the mental well-being of a staff of several thousand

entities belonging to more than sixty different species. Even though his Monitor

Corps rank of Major did not place him high in the hospital's Service chain of

command, and anyway had been given for purely administrative reasons, there was

no clear limit to O'Mara's authority. To him the medical staff were patients,

too, regardless of seniority, and an important part of his job was to ensure

that the right doctor was assigned to each of the weird and often wonderful

variety of patients who turned up at the hos-

pital, and that there was no xenophobic complications on either side.

He was also responsible for the hospital's medical elite, the Diagnosticians.

According to O'Mara himself, however, the real reason for the high level of

mental stability among the diverse and often touchy medical staff was that they

were all too frightened of him to risk his displeasure by going mad.

O'Mara watched him closely until Conway had finished, then he said, "A clear,

concise, and apparently accurate report, Doctor, but you are a close friend of

the patient. There is the possibility of clouded judgment, exaggeration. You are

not a psychologist but an e-t physician and surgeon who has apparently already

decided that the case is one which should be treated by my department. You

appreciate my difficulty? Please describe for me your feelings during this

mission from the rescue until now. But first, are you feeling all right?"

AH that Conway could feel just then was his blood pressure rising.

"Be as objective as possible," O'Mara added.

Conway took a deep breath and let it out agaJn slowly through his nose. "After

our very fast response to the distress signal there was a general feeling of

disappointment at the rescue of just one survivor, a survivor who was barely

alive. But you're on the wrong track, Major. The feeling was shared by everyone

on the ship, I believe, but it was not strong enough to explain the Cinrusskin's

hypersensitivity. Prilicla was picking up emotional radiation of distressing

intensity from crew members stationed at the other end of the ship, a distance

at which emoting would normally be barely detectable. And I am given neither to

maudlin sentimentality nor exaggeration of symptoms. Right at this moment 1 feel

the way I usually do in this blasted office and that is—"

"Objectively, remember," O'Mara said dryly.

"I was not trying to do your diagnostic work for you," Conway went on, bringing

his voice back to a conversational level, "but the indications are that there is

a psychological Problem. The result, perhaps, of an as yet unidentified disease,

or organic malfunction or an imbalance in the endocrine system. But a purely

psychological reason for the condition is also a Possibility which—"

"Anything is possible. Doctor," O'Mara broke in impatiently. "Be specific. What

are you going to do about your friend, and what exactly do you want me to do

about it?"

"Two things," Conway said. "I want you to check on Pril-icla's condition

yourself—"

"Which you know I will do anyway," O'Mara said.

"—and give me the GLNO physiology tape," he went on, "so that I can confirm or

eliminate the nonpsychological reasons for the trouble."

For a moment O'Mara was silent. His face remained as expressionless as a lump of

basalt, but the eyes showed concern. "You've carried Educator tapes before now

and know what to expect. But the GLNO tape is... different. You will feel Jike a

very unhappy Cinrusskin indeed. You are no Diagnostician, Conway—at least, not

yet. Better think about it."

The physiology tapes, Conway knew from personal experience, fell somewhere

between the categories of mixed blessing and necessary evil. While skill in e-t

surgery came with aptitude, training, and experience, no single being could hope

to hold in its brain the vast quantity of physiological data needed for the

treatment of the variety of patients encountered in a hospital like Sector

General. The incredible mass of clinical and anatomical information needed to

take care of them had therefore to be furnished, usually on a temporary basis,

by means of the Educator tapes, which were the brain recordings of the great

medical specialists belonging to the species concerned. If an Earth-human

doctor had to treat a Kelgian patient, he took one of the Kelgian physiology

tapes until treatment was completed, after which he had it erased. But for the

medic concerned, whether the tape was being carried for as long as it took to

perform an other-species operation or for a teaching project lasting several

months, the experience was not a pleasant one.

The only good thing about it from the medic's point of view was that he was much

better off than one of the Diagnosticians.

They were the hospital's elite. A Diagnostician was one of those rare entities

whose mind had proved itself stable enough to retain up to ten physiology tapes

simultaneously. To their data-crammed minds was given the work of original

research in xenological medicine and the diagnosis and treatment of

disease and injury in hitherto unknown life-forms. There was a saying current in

the hospital, reputed to have originated with O'Mara himself, that anyone sane

enough to be a Diagnostician was mad.

For it was not only physiological data which the tapes imparted; the complete

memory and personality of the entity who had possessed that knowledge was

impressed on the receiving mind as well. In effect, a Diagnostician subjected

himself or itself voluntarily to a form of multiple schizophrenia, with the

alien personalities sharing its mind so utterly different that in many cases

they did not have even a system of logic in common. And all too frequently the

foremost medical authorities of a planet, despite their eminence in the field of

healing, were very bad-tempered, aggressive, and unpleasant people indeed.

Such would not be the case with the GLNO tape, Conway knew, because Cinrusskins

were the most timid, friendly, and likable beings imaginable.

"I've thought about it," Conway said.

O'Mara nodded and spoke into his desk set. "Carrington? Senior Physician Conway

is approved for the GLNO tape, with compulsory postimpression sedation of one

hour. I'll be in Emergency Admissions on Level One Six Three—" he grinned

suddenly at Conway "—trying not to tell the medics their business."

Conway woke to see a large, pink balloon of a face hanging °yer him.

Instinctively he tried to scramble up the wall beside "is couch in case the

enormous, heavily muscled body sup-Porting the face fell and crushed the life

out of him. Then suddenly there was a mental shift in perspective as the

features registered concern and withdrew and the slim, Earth-human body in

Monitor Corps green straightened up.

Lieutenant Carrington, one of O'Mara's assistants, said, Easy, Doctor. Sit up

slowly, then stand. Concentrate on put-big your two feet onto the floor and

don't worry because they aren't a Cinrusskin's six."

He made good time back to 163 in spite of having to walk a large number of

beings who were much smaller than just because the Cinrusskin component of his

mind that they were big and dangerous. From Murchison he learned that O'Mara

was in Prilicla's ward, having first called in to the OR to discuss the EGCL's

basic physiology and probable environmental and evolutionary influence with

Thorn-nastor and Edanelt, both of whom had been too busy to speak to him.

They would not speak to Con way, either, and he could see why. The operation on

the EGCL had become an emergency with an unknown but probably extremely short

time limit.

When the splinters of depressed carapace had been removed from the brain over an

hour earlier, Murchison explained quietly between rumbled instructions from

Thomnastor, there had been a sudden and surprising deterioration in the EGCL's

condition. The change had been detected by Prilicla who, because of its

condition, had been excluded from any part of the operation. But the Cinrusskin

had continued to act like a doctor by making use of its abnormally heightened

emotion-detection faculty. Prilicla had pulled rank to send Ward Seven's duty

nurse to the operating theater with its empathic findings and a diffident

suggestion that if they were to relay the operational proceedings to Seven's

viewscreen, it would be able to assist them.

The cause of the deterioration was a number of large blood vessels in the

cerebral area which had ruptured when the pressure from the depressed fracture

had been removed. Trie two surgeons had been forced to accede to Prilicla's

request" because, without the empath's monitoring of the patient's level of

consciousness, they had no way of knowing whether the delicate, dangerous, and

perforce hurried repair work in the cerebral area was having a good or bad

effect—if any.

"Prognosis?" Conway murmured. But before Murchison could reply, one of

Thornnastor's eyes curled backward over its head to glare down at him.

"If this patient does not succumb to a massive cerebral hemorrhage within the

next thirty minutes," the Diagnostician said crossly, "it is probable that it

will perish, in time, from the degenerative diseases associated with extreme old

age. No* stop distracting my assistant, Conway, and tend to your own patient."

On the way to Seven Conway wondered briefly how the empath's emotion sensitivity

could detect the unconscious level

of emoting of the EGCL without the signals beings swamped by the emotional

radiation of dozens of fully conscious entities in the area. Maybe Prilicla's

recent hypersensitivity was responsible, but there was a niggling doubt at the

back of his mind which suggested that there was another reason.

O'Mara was still in the ward, steadying himself in the close to zero-gravity

conditions with a hand on an equipment rack while he and Prilicla watched the

scene in the operating theater.

"Conway, stop that!" O'Mara said sharply.

He had tried not to react when he had seen the empath's condition. But half his

mind belonged to a Cinrusskin, a member of a species acknowledged to be the

most sensitive and sympathetic intelligent life-form known to the Federation who

was regarding a brother in extreme distress while the Earth-human half was

feeling for a friend in the same condition, and it was difficult to be cool and

clinical for both of them.

"I'm sorry," he said inadequately.

"I know you are, friend Conway," Prilicla said, turning toward him. "You should

not have taken that tape."

"He was warned," O'Mara said gruffly, but his expression showed concern.

Conway was a member of an empathic race. All the memories and experience of his

GLNO life were those of a normally healthy and happy empath, but now he was no

longer an empath. He could see, hear, and touch Prilicla, but the faculty was

missing which enabled him to share the other's emotions and which subtly colored

every word, gesture, and expression so that for two Cinrusskins to be within

visual range was unalloyed pleasure for both. He could remember experiencing

empathic contact, remember having the ability all his life, but now he was

little more than a deaf-mute. What he was feeling from Prilicla so strongly was

a product of his imagination: It was sympathy, not empathy.

His human brain did not possess the empathic faculty, and it was not bestowed by

filling his mind with memories of having had it. But there were other memories

as well, covering a lifetime's experience of Cinrusskin clinical physiology, and

these he could, use.

"If you don't mind, Doctor Prilicla," Conway said with cool formality, "I would

like to examine you."

"Of course, friend Conway." Prilicla's uncontrollable shaking had diminished to

a steady, continuous trembling, an indication that Conway's emotional radiation

was under control. "There are more symptoms, Doctor, which are causing severe

discomfort."

"I can see that," Conway said as he gently moved aside one of the incredibly

fragile wings to place his scanner against the empath's thorax. "Describe them,

please."

In the two hours since Conway had last seen it, Prilicla had changed in ways

which were individually subtle but cumulatively marked. There was a strange

lack of animation and concentration in the large, triple-lidded eyes; the

delicate structure which supported the wing membranes had softened and warped so

that the translucent and iridescent membrane had fallen into unsightly folds and

wrinkles; its four tiny, wonderfully precise manipulators, which should one day

make it one of the finest surgeons in the hospital, were quivering in spite of

being gripped tightly together, and the overall aspect was of a GLNO who was old

and grievously ill.

While Conway continued the examination, the Cinrusskin part of his mind shared

his bafflement at the findings and described symptoms. They were both sure, and

in this their agreement was based on the GLNO tape donor's personal experience

and Conway's knowledge acquired over many years in Sector General, that Prilicla

was close to death.

The empath's trembling increased sharply, then diminished as Conway once again

forced a feeling of clinical detachment on himself. He said calmly, "There is no

evidence of deformation, obstruction, lesion, or infection which might cause

the symptoms you describe. Neither can I see any cause for the respiratory

difficulty you are experiencing. Some degree of empathic hypersensitivity occurs

in adolescents of your specie5' my Cinrusskin alter ego tells me, but in nothing

like the in* tensity you describe. It is possible, I suppose, that there is a

nonpathogenic and nontoxic involvement with the central nervous system."

"You think it's psychosomatic?" O'Mara said harshly, i3"3" bing a finger toward

Prilicla. "This?" .

"I would like to eliminate that possibility," Conway repljf" calmly. To

Prilicla, he said, "If you don't mind I would & to discuss your case with Major

O'Mara outside."

"Of course, friend Conway," the empath said. The constant trembling seemed as if

it would shake the fragile body apart. "But please have that Cinrusskin tape

erased as quickly as possible. Your heightened levels of concern and sympathy

are helping neither of us. And consider, friend Conway, your tape was donated by

a great Cinrusskin medical authority of the past. In all modesty, I can say

that, before coming to Sector General and in preparation for my work here, I had

reached a similar degree of eminence in the field.

'There is nothing in the clinical history of our species which even approximates

this condition," it went on, "and absolutely no precedent for the symptomology.

Regarding the possibility of a nonphysical basis for the condition, I cannot, of

course, be completely objective about this. But I have always been a happy and

well-adjusted person with no mental aberrations in childhood, adolescence, or

adulthood. Friend O'Mara has my psych file and will confirm this. My hope is

that these peculiar symptoms were so sudden in onset that their recession will

be equally rapid." '

"Perhaps Thomnastor could—" Conway began.

"The thought of that—that behemoth approaching me with investigative intent

would cause me to terminate at once. And Thomnastor is busy—Friend Edanelt, be

careful!"

Prilicla had switched its attention suddenly to the view-screen. It went on,

"Pressure, even temporary pressure in that area causes a marked decrease in the

EGCL's unconscious emoting. I suggest you approach that nerve bundle anteriorly

hrough the opening in the..."

Conway missed the rest of it because O'Mara had gripped his arm and pulled him

carefully out of the low-gravity com-partment.

That was very good advice," the Chief Psychologist said ner they were some

distance from Prilicla's ward. "Let's erase that tape, Doctor, and discuss our

little friend's problem on the way to my office."

Conway shook his head firmly. "Not yet. Prilicla said all that could be said

about its case back there. The hard facts are Cinrusskin species is not one of

the Federation's most robust. The have no stamina, no reserves to resist over a

long effects of any injury or disease, whatever the cause, know—myself, my alter

ego and, I suspect, you your-

self—that unless its condition is treated and relieved very quickly Prilicla

will die within a few hours, perhaps ten hours at most."

The Major nodded.

"Unless you can come up with a bright idea," he went on grimly, "and I would

certainly welcome it if you did, I intend to go on thinking with the Cinrusskin

tape. It hasn't helped much up to now, but I want to think without constraint,

without having to play mental games with myself to avoid emoting too strongly in

the presence of my patient. There is something very odd about this case,

something I'm missing.

"So I'm going for a walk," he ended suddenly. "I won't be far away. Just far

enough, I hope, to be outside the range of Prilicla's empathy."

O'Mara nodded again and left without speaking.

Conway put on a lightweight suit and traveled upward for three levels into the

section reserved for the spiney, membraneous, chlorine-breathing Illensan

PVSJs. The inhabitants of Illensa were not a sociable species by Earth-human

standards, and Conway was hoping to walk their foggy yellow wards and corridors

without interruption while he wrestled with his problem. But that was not to

be.

Senior Physician Gilvesh, who had worked with Conway some months earlier on a

Dwerlan DBPK operation, was feeling uncharacteristically sociable and wanted to

talk shop with its fellow Senior. They met in a narrow corridor leading from the

level's pharmacy and there was no way that Conway could avoid talking to it.

Gilvesh was having problems. It was one of those days, the Illensan medic said,

when all the patients were demanding inordinate amounts of attention and

unnecessary quantities of palliative medication, the administration of which

required its personal supervision. The junior medics and nursing staff were

under pressure, therefore, and there was evident an unusual degree of verbal

overreaction and sheer bad temper. Gilvesh said that it was explaining and

apologizing in advance for any seeming discourtesy encountered by such an

important visiting Senior as Conway. There were several of Gilvesh's cases, it

insisted, which he would find interesting.

In common with the other medics trained for service in a multienvironment

hospital, Conway had a thorough grounding

in the basics of extraterrestrial physiology, metabolism, and the more common

diseases of the Federation's member species. But for a detailed consultation and

diagnosis of the kind required here he needed an Illensan physiology tape, and

Gilvesh knew that as well as he did. So the Illensan Senior, it seemed, was

sufficiently worried by the current state of its patients to seek a quick,

other-species opinion.

With the Cinrusskin tape and his intense concern for Prilicla confusing his

clinical view, Conway could do little more than make encouraging noises while

Gilvesh discussed a painful intestinal tract, a visually dramatic and

undoubtedly uncomfortable fungoid infection involving all eight of the

spatulate limbs, and sundry other conditions to which Illensans were heir.

While the patients were seriously ill, their conditions were not critical, and

the increased dosages of painkilling medication which Gilvesh was administering

against its better judgment .seemed to be having the desired effect, albeit

slowly. Conway excused himself from the frantically busy wards as soon as he

could and headed towards the much quieter MSVK and LSVO levels.

He had to pass through Level 163 again on the way, and stopped to cneck on the

condition of the EGCL. Murchison yawned in his face and said that the operation

was going well and that Prilicla was satisfied with the patient's emotional

radiation. He did not call on Prilicla.

But he found that the low-gravity levels were having one of those days, too, and

he was immediately trapped into further consulations. He could not very well

avoid them because he was Conway, the Earth-human Senior Physician, known

throughout the hospital for his sometimes unorthodox but effective methods and

ideas on diagnosis and treatment. Here, at least, he was able to give "some

useful if orthodox advice because his Cinrusskin mind-partner was closer

temperamentally and physically to the Nallajim LSVOs and the MSVKs of Euril who

were fragile, birdlike, and extremely timid where the larger life-forms were

concerned. But he could find no solution, orthodox or otherwise, to the problem

he most des-perately wanted to solve.

Prilicla's.

He thought about going to his quarters where he would have peace and quiet in

which to think, but they were more than an hour's journey away at the other end

of the hospital and he wanted to be close by in case there was a sudden

deterioration in Prilicla's already close to critical condition. So instead he

continued listening to Nallajim patients describing their symptoms and feeling

a strange sadness because the Cinrusskin part of his mind knew that they were

suffering, feeling, and emoting on many levels but his Earth-human mental

equipment was incapable of receiving their emotional radiation. It was as if a

sheet of glass lay between them, through which only sight and sound could pass.

But something more was getting through, surely? He h'ad felt some of the aches

and pains of the Illensan patients as he was feeling, to a certain extent, those

of the Eurils and Nal-lajims around him. Or was that simply the GLNO tape

fooling him into believing that he was an empath?

A sheet of glass, he thought suddenly, and a idea began to stir at the back of

his mind. He tried to bring it out into the light, to give it form. Glass.

Something about glass, or the properties of glass?

"Excuse me, Kytili," he said to the Nallijim medic who was worrying aloud about

an atypical case of what should have been an easily treated and nonpainful

condition. "I have to see O'Mara urgently."

It was Carrington who erased the GLNO tape because the Chief Psychologist had

been called to some trouble in the chlorine-breathing level lately vacated by

Gonway. As O'Mara's senior assistant, Carrington was a highly qualified

psychologist. He studied Conway's expression for a moment and asked if he could

be of assistance.

Conway shook his head and forced a smile. "I wanted to ask the Major something.

He would probably have said no, anyway. May I use the communicator?"

A few seconds later the face of Captain Fletcher flicked onto the screen and he

said briskly, "Rhabwar, Control Deck."

"Captain," Conway said, "I want to ask a favor. If you agree to do it then it

must be clearly understood that you will not be held responsible for any

repercussions since it will be

a medical matter entirely and you will be acting under my orders.

"There is a way that I may be able to help Prilicla," he went on, and described

what he wanted done. When he finished, Fletcher looked grave.

"I'm aware of Prilicla's condition, Doctor," the Captain said. "Naydrad has been

in and out of the ship so often it is threatening to wear out the boarding tube,

and each time it returns we get an update on the empath's progress, or rather

lack of it. And there is no need to belabor the point about our respective

responsibilities. Obviously you wish to use the ship for an unauthorized mission

and you are concealing the details so that any blame attached to me as a result

of a future inquiry will be minimal. You are cutting comers again, Doctor, but

in this instance I sympathize and will accept any instructions you care to

give."

Fletcher broke off, and for the first time in Conway's experience of the man

the Captain's cold, impassive, almost disdainful expression softened and the

voice lost its irritatingly pedantic quality. "But it is my guess that you will

order me to take Rhabwar to Cinruss," he went on, "so that our little friend can

die among its own kind."

Before Conway could reply, Fletcher had switched him to Naydrad on the Casualty

Deck.

Half an hour later the Kelgian Charge Nurse and Conway were transferring

Prilicla, who was barely conscious and trembling only slightly by then, from

its supporting harness to a powered litter. In the corridor leading to Lock Nine

none of the medical staff questioned their action, and when any of them looked

as if they might, Conway tapped irritably at the casing of his translator pack

and pretended that it was malfunctioning. But when they were passing the

entrance to the EGCL's room, Murchison was just leaving it. She stepped quickly

in front of the litter.

"Where are you taking Prilicla?" she demanded. She sounded desperately tired and

uncharacteristically angry, so much so that the empath began to twitch weakly.

"To Rhabwar" Conway said as calmly as he could. "How is the EGCL?"

W»*~~UVIfc—W VTI II

Murchison looked at the empath, then visibly tried to control her feelings as

she replied, "Very well, all things considered. Its condition is stable. There

is a senior nurse continually in attendance. Edanelt is resting next door, only

seconds away if I anything should go wrong, but we don't expect any problems. In

fact, we are expecting it to recover consciousness fairly soon. And Thornnastor

has returned to Pathology to study the results of the tests we did on Prilicla.

That's why you shouldn't be moving Prilicla from — "

"Thornnastor can't cure Prilicla," Conway said firmly. He looked from her to the

litter and went on, "I can use your help. I Do you think you can stay on your

feet for another couple of hours? Please, there isn't much time."

Within seconds of the litter's arrival on Rhabwar's Casualty Deck, Conway was on

the intercom to Fletcher. "Captain, take us out quickly, please. And ready the

planetary lander."

"The planetary — " Fletcher began, then went on, "We haven't undocked yet, much

less reached Jump distance, and you're worrying about landing on Cinruss! Are

you sure you know what — "

"I'm not sure of anything, Captain," Conway said. "Take us out but be prepared

to check velocity at short notice, and well within Jump distance."

Fletcher broke the connection without replying, and a few seconds later the

direct vision port showed the vast metal flank of the hospital moving away.

Their velocity increased to the maximum allowed in the vicinity of the

establishment, until the nearest section of the gigantic structure was a

kilometer, then two kilometers away. But nobody was interested in the view just

then because all of Conway's attention was on Prilicla, and Murchison and

Naydrad were watching him.

"Back there," the pathologist said suddenly, "you said that even Thornnastor

could not cure Prilicla. Why did you say that?"

"Because there was nothing wrong with Prilicla," Conway said. He ignored

Murchison's unladylike gape of surprise and Naydrad's wildly undulating fur and

spoke to the empath. "Isn't that so, little friend?"

"I think so, friend Conway," Prilicla said, speaking for the

StO IUM UtlNtMAL 63

first time since coming on board. "Certainly there is nothing wrong with me now.

But I am confused."

"You're confused!" Murchison began, and stopped because Conway was again at the

communicator.

"Captain," he said, "return at once to Lock Nine to take on another patient.

Switch on all of your exterior lighting and ignore the traffic instructions. And

please patch me through to Level One Six Three, the EGCL's recovery room.

Quickly."

"Right," the Captain coldly said, "but I want an explanation."

"You'll get one—" Conway began. He broke off as the Captain's angry features

were replaced by a view of the recovery room with the attending nurse, a

Kelgian, curled like a furry question mark beside the EGCL. Its report on the

patient's condition was brief, accurate, and, to Conway, terrifying.

He broke contact and returned to the Captain. Apologetically he said, "There,

isn't much time so I would like you to listen while I explain the situation, or

what I think is the situation, to the others here. I had intended that the

lander be fitted with remote-controlled medical servomechs and used as an

isolation unit, but there isn't time for that now. The EGCL is waking up. All

hell could break loose in the hospital at any minute."

Quickly he explained his theory about the EGCL and the reasoning which had led

to it, ending with the proof which was Prilicla's otherwise inexplicable

recovery.

"The part of this which bothers me," he concluded grimly, is having to subject

Prilicla to the same degree of emotional torture once again."

. The empath's limbs trembled at the remembered pain, but •t said, "I can accept

it, friend Conway, now that I know the condition will be temporary."

But removing the EGCL was not as easy as had been the abduction of Prilicla. The

Kelgian duty nurse was disposed to |^8ue, and it took all of Naydrad's powers of

persuasion and ttle combined ranks of Murchison and Conway to make it do 33 'l

was told. And while they were arguing, Conway could j6^ the wildly rippling and

twitching fur of the two nurses, the udden, almost manic changes of facial

expression in Murchi-

son, and the emotional overreaction in all of them, in spite of his earlier

warning of what would happen if they did not control their feelings. By the time

the transfer of the patient to Rhab-war's litter was underway, so much fuss had

been created that someone was sure to report it. Conway did not want that.

The patient was coming to. There was no time to go through proper channels, no

time for long and repeated explanations. Then suddenly he had to find time,

because both Edanelt and O'Mara were in the room. It was the Chief Psychologist

who spoke first.

"Conway! What do you think you're doing with that patient?"

"I'm kidnapping it!" Conway snapped back sarcastically. Quickly he went on, "I'm

sorry, sir, we are all overreacting. We can't help it, but try hard to be calm.

Edanelt, will you help me transfer the EGCL's support systems to the litter.

There , isn't much time left so I'll have to explain while we work."

The Melfan Senior dithered for a moment, the tapping of its six crablike legs

against the floor reflecting its indecision, then it spoke. "Very well, Conway.

But if I am not satisfied with your explanation the patient stays here."

"Fair enough," said Conway. He looked at O'Mara, whose face was showing the

indications of a suddenly elevated blood pressure, and went on, "You had the

right idea at the beginning, but everyone was too busy to talk to you. It should

have occurred to me, too, if the GLNO tape and concern for Prilicla hadn't

confused me by—"

"Omit die flattery and excuses, Conway," O'Mara broke in, "and get on with it."

Conway was helping Murchison and Naydrad lift the EGCL into the litter while

Edanelt and the other nurse checked the siting of the biosensors. Without

looking up he went on, "Whenever we encounter a new intelligent species the

first thing we are supposed to ask ourselves is how it got that way. Only the

dominant life-form on a planet has the opportunity, the security and leisure, to

develop a civilization capable of interstellar travel."

At first Conway had not been able to see how the EGCL's people had risen to

dominance on their world, how they had fought their way to the top of their

evolutionary tree. They had

no physical weapons of offense, and their snaillike apron of muscle which

furnished locomotion was incapable of moving them fast enough to avoid natural

enemies. Their carapace was a defense of sorts in that it protected vital

organs, but that osseus shell was mounted high on the body, making it top-heavy

and an easy prey for any predator who had only to topple it over to get at the

soft underside. Its manipulatory appendages were flexible and dexterous, but too

short and lightly muscled to be a deterrent. On their home world the EGCLs

should have been one of nature's losers. They were not, however, and there had

to be a reason.

It had come to him slowly, Conway went on, while he was moving through the

chlorine and light-gravity sections. In every ward there had been cases of

patients with known and properly diagnosed ailments displaying, or at least

complaining about, atypical symptoms. The demand for painkilling medication had

been unprecedented. Conditions which should have caused a minor degree of

discomfort were, it seemed, inflicting severe pain. He had been aware of some of

this pain himself, but had put that down to a combination of his imagination and

the effect of the Cinrusskin tape.

He had already considered and discarded the idea that the trouble was

psychosomatic because the condition was too widespread, but then he thought

about it again.

During their return from the disaster site with the sole surviving EGCL,

everyone had felt understandably low about the mission's lack of success and

because Prilicla was giving cause for concern. But in retrospect there was

something wrong, unprofessional, about their reactions. They were feeling things

too strongly, overreacting, developing in their own fashions the same kind of

hypersensitivity which had affected Prilicla and which had affected the patients

and staff on the Illensan and the Nallajim levels. Conway had felt it himself;

the vague stomach pains, the discomfort in hands and fingers, the

ov-erexcitability in circumstances which did not warrant it. But the effect had

diminished with distance, because when he vis-ited O'Mara's office for the GLNO

tape and later for the era-sure, he had felt normal and unworried except for the

usual degree of concern over a current case, accentuated in this instance

because the patient was Prilicla.

The EGCL was receiving the best possible attention from Thornnastor and Edanelt,

so it was not on his mind to any large extent. Conway had been sure of that.

"But then I began to think about its injuries," Conway went on, "and the way I

had felt on the ship and within three levels of the EGCL operation. In the

hospital while I had the GLNO tape riding me, I was an empath without empathy.

But I seemed to be feeling things—emotions, pains, conditions which did not

belong to me. I thought that, because of fatigue and the stress of that time, I

was generating sympathetic pains. Then it occurred to me that if the type of

discomfort being suffered by the EGCL were subtracted from the symptoms of the

medics and patients on those six levels and the intensity of the discomfort

reduced, then the affected patients and staff would be acting and reacting

normally. This seemed to point toward—"

"An empath!" O'Mara said. "Like Prilicla."

"Not like Prilicla," Conway said firmly. "Although it is possible that the

empathic faculty possessed by the preintelligent ancestors of both species was

similar."

But their prehistoric world was an infinitely more dangerous place than Cinruss

had been, Conway continued, and in any case the EGCLs lacked the ability of the

Cinrusskins quite literally to fly from danger. And in such a savage environment

there was little advantage in having an empathic faculty other than as a highly

unpleasant early warning system, and so the ability to receive emotions had been

lost. It was probable that they no longer received even the emotional radiation

of their own kind.

They had become organic transmitters, reflectors and fo-cusers and magnifiers of

their own feelings and those of the beings around them. The indications were

that the faculty had evolved to the stage where they had no conscious control

over the process.

"Think of the defensive weapon that makes," Conway explained. The EGCL's life

support and sensors had been transferred to the litter and it was ready to

leave. "If a predator tries to attack it, the anger and hunger it feels for its

victim together with the fear and pain, if the victim was hurt or wounded, would

be magnified, bounced back, and figuratively hit the attacker in the teeth. I

can only guess at the order of emotional amplification used. But the effect on

the predator, especially

if there were others in the vicinity whose feelings were also being amplified,

would be discouraging to say the least, also very confusing. It might have the

effect of having them attack each other.

"We already know the effect of a deeply unconscious EGCL on the patients and

staff three levels above and below this one," Conway went on grimly. "Now

consciousness is returning and I don't know what will happen, or how

far-reaching the effect will be. We have to get it away from here before the

hospital's patients have their own as well as the EGCL's pain magnified to an

unknown but major degree, and their medical attendants thrown into a steadily

accelerating state of disorder and panic because they, too, will receive the

reflected pain and—"

He broke off and tried to control his own growing panic, then he said harshly,

"We have to get it away from the hospital now, without further delays or

arguments."

O'Mara's face had lost its angry red coloration while Con-way had been talking,

until now it looked gray and bloodless. He said, "Don't waste time talking,

Doctor. I shall accompany you. There will be no further delays or arguments."

When- they reached Rhabwar's Casualty Deck the EGCL was still not fully

conscious and Prilicla was again being seriously affected by the ambient

emotional radiation which was being amplified and bounced off their patient. The

discomfort diminished sharply with increasing distance from the hospital, the

empath told them, and the awakening EGCL was radiating only a relatively low

intensity of discomfort from the sites of the recent surgery—but Prilicla did

not have to tell them that because they could all feel it for themselves.

"I have been thinking about the problem of communicating with these people,"

O'Mara said thoughtfully. "If they are all high-powered transmitters and

reflectors of emotional radia-they may not be aware of what they are doing, only

that ave an automatic, nonmaterial defense against everything and everyone

wishing them harm. The job of establishing com-munications with them may not be

easy and is likely to be a

long-range affair, unless our basic premise is wrong and we—"

"My first idea," Conway broke in, "was to put it in the lander with

remote-controlled medical servomechs. Then I

thought there should be one medic, a volunteer, in atten-dance—"

"I won't ask who," O'Mara said dryly, and smiled as Con-way's embarrassment

bounced off the EGCL and hit them.

"—because if ever there was case demanding isolation," Conway ended, "this is

it."

The Chief Psychologist nodded. "What I had been about to say was that we may

have miscalculated. Certainly we could never treat EGCLs in hospital where the

patients surrounding them were in pain, even slight pain. But the situation here

in the ship isn't too bad. I can feel pains in the equivalent sites to where the

EGCL is hurting, but nothing I can't handle. And the rest of you are emoting

concern; for the patient, and this is not unpleasant even when magnified. It

seems that if you don't think badly toward the patient, it can't bounce anything

too unpleasant back at you. It's surprising. 1 feel just the way I always do,

except more so."

"But it is regaining consciousness," Conway protested. "There should be an

intensification of—"

"There isn't," O'Mara cut in. "That is very obvious, Con-way. Could the reason

be because the patient is regaining consciousness? Think about it. Yes, Doctor,

we can all feel you feeling 'Eureka!'"

"Of courser Conway said, and paused because his pleasure and excitement at

seeing the answer, magnified by the EGCL, was causing Prilicla's wings to go

into the series of slow, rippling undulations which indicated intense pleasure

in a Cin-russkin. It also counteracted the aches which he and everyone else were

feeling from the pateint. He thought, What a weird experience the cultural

contact specialists were going to have with this species.

Aloud he said, "The process of reflecting and magnifying the feelings, hostile

or otherwise, of the people around them is a defense mechanism which would,

naturally, be at its most effective when the being is helpless, vulnerable, or

unconscious. With a return to consciousness the effect seems to diminish but

the empathic reflections are still strong. The result is that everyone around

them will have an empathic faculty not unlike Prilicla's, and yet the EGCLs are

deaf to each other's emotional radiation because they are transmitters only.

"Being like Prilicla," he went on, looking across at the empath, "is something

of a mixed blessing. But the EGCL would be a nice perspn to have around if we

were having a good time — "

"Control here," the voice of the Captain broke in. "I have some information on

your patient's species. Federation Archives have signaled the hospital to the

effect that this race — their name for themselves is the Duwetz — was contacted

briefly by an exploring Hudlar ship before the formation of the Galactic

Federation. Enough information was obtained for the basic Duwetz language to be

programmed into the present-day translation computers, but contact was severed

because of serious psychological problems among the crew. We are advised to

proceed with caution."

"The patient," Prilicla said suddenly, "is awake."

Conway moved closer to the EGCL and tried to think positive, reassuring

thoughts toward it. He noted with relief that the biosensors and associated

monitors were indicating a weak but stable condition; that the damaged lung was

again working satisfactorily and the bandages immobilizing the two rejoined

appendages were firmly in position. The extensive suturing on the muscular apron

and ambulatory pad at the base were well up to Thornnastor and Edanelt's high

standards, as were the deftly inserted staples which gleamed in neat rows where

the carapace fractures had been. Obviously the being was in considerable

discomfort in spite of the painkilling medication Thonnastor had synthesized for

its particular metabolism. But Pain was not the predominant feeling it was

transmitting, and rear and hostility were entirely absent.

Two of its three remaining eyes swiveled to regard them while the other one was

directed toward the viewport where Rector Twelve General Hospital, now almost

eight kilometers Aslant, blazed like some vast, surrealistic piece of jewelry

against the interstellar darkness. The feelings which washed -Tough them, so

intensely that they trembled or caught their breathss or rippled their fur, were

of curiosity and wonder.

"I'm not an organ mechanic like you people," O'Mara said stiffly, "but I would

say that with this case the prognosis is favorable."

The ambulance ship Rhabwar had mad the trip from Sector General to the scene of

the supposed disaster in record time and with a precision of astrogation, Conway

thought, which would cause Lieutenant Dodds to exhibit symptoms of cranial

swelling for many days to come. But as the information was displayed on the

Casualty Deck's repeater screens, it became clear to the watching medical team

that this was not going to be a fast rescue—that this might not, in fact, be a

rescue mission at all.

The fully extended sensor net revealed no sign of a distressed ship, nor any

wreckage or components of such a ship. Even the finely divided, expanding cloud

of debris which would have indicated a catastrophic malfunction in the veseel's

reactor was missing. All there was to be seen was the characteristic shape of a

dead and partially fused distress beacon at a distance of a few hundred meters

and, about three million kilometers beyond it, the bright crescent shape which

was one of this systems P!anets.

Major Fletcher's voice came from the speaker. The Captain did not sound pleased.

"Doctor," he said. "We cannot assume that this was a simple false alarm.

Hyperspace radio distress beacons are highly expensive hunks of machinery for

one thing, and I have yet to hear of an intelligent species who does not have an

aversion to crying their equivalent of wolf. 1 think the crew must have

panicked, then discovered that the condition of the ship was not as distressed

as they at first thought. They may have resumed their journey or. tried for a

planetary landing to effect repairs. We'll have to eliminate the latter

possibility before we leave. Dodds?"

"The system has been surveyed," the Astrogator's voice replied. "G-type sun,

seven planets with one, the one we can see, habitable in the short term by

warm-blooded oxygen breathers. No indigenous intelligent life. Course for a

close approach and search, sir?"

"Yes," Fletcher said. "Haslam, pull in your long-range sensors and set up for a

planetary surface scan. Lieutenant Chen, I'll need impulse power, four Gs, on my

signal. And Haslam, just in case the ship is down and trying to signal its

presence, monitor the normal and hyperradio frequencies."

A few minutes later they felt the deck press momentarily against their feet as

the artifical gravity system compensated for the four-G thrust. Conway,

Pathologist Murchison, and Charge Nurse Naydrad moved closer to the repeater

where Dodds had displayed the details of the target planet's gravity pull,

atmospheric composition and pressure, and the environmental data which made it

just barely habitable. The empathic Doctor Prilicla clung ;o the safety of the

ceiling and observed the screen at slightly longer range.

It was the Charge Nurse, its silvery fur rippling in agitation, who spoke first.

"This ship isn't supposed to land on unprepared surfaces," Naydrad said. "That

ground is—is rough."

"Why couldn't they have stayed in space like good little distressed aliens,"

Murchison said to nobody in particular, "and waited to be rescued?"

Conway looked at her and said thoughtfully, "It is possible that their condition

of distress was nonmechanical. Injury, sickness, or psychological disturbances

among the crew, perhaps, problems which have since been resolved. If it was a

physical problem then they should have stayed out here, since it is easier to

effect repairs in weightless conditions."

"Not always, Doctor," Fletcher's voice cut in sharply from

;;the Control Deck. "If the physical problem was a badly holed hull, a

breathable atmosphere around them might seem more desirable than weightless and

airless space. No doubt you have medical preparations to make."

Conway felt a surge of anger at the other's thinly veiled suggestion that he

tend to his medical knitting and stop trying to tell the Captain his business.

Beside him Murchison was breathing heavily and Naydrad's fur was tufting and

rippling as if blown by a strong wind, while above them the emotion-sensitive

Prilicla's six insectile legs and iridescent wings quivered in the emotional

gale they were generating. Out of consideration for the empath, Conway tried to

control his feelings, as did the others.

It was ^understandable that Fletcher, the ship's commander, liked to have the

last word, but he knew and accepted the fact that on Sector General's special

ambulance ship he had to relinquish command to the senior medic, Conway, during

the course of a rescue. Fletcher was a good officer, able, resourceful, and one

of the Federation's top men in the field of comparative extraterrestrial

technology. But there were times during the short period while responsibility

was being passed to Senior Physician Conway when his manner became a trifle

cool, formal—even downright nasty.

Prilicla's trembling diminished and the little empath tried to say something

which would further improve the quality of the emotional radiation around it.

"If the lately distressed vessel has landed on this planet," it said timidly,

"then we know that the crew belongs to one of the oxygen-breathing species and

the preparations to receive casualties, if any, will be relatively simple."

"That's true," Conway said, laughing.

"Only thirty-eight different species fall into that category," Murchison said,

and added dryly, "that we know of."

Rhabwar's sensors detected a small concentration of metal and associated

low-level radiation, which on an uninhabited Pianet could only mean the presence

of a grounded ship, while they were still two diameters out. As a result they

were able to decelerate and enter atmosphere for a closer look after only l*o

orbits.

The ambulance ship was a modified Monitor Corps cruiser

and, as such, the largest of the Federation vessels capable of aerodynamic

maneuvering in atmosphere. It sliced through the brown, sand-laden air like a

great white dart, trailing a sonic Shockwave loud enough to wake the dead or, at

the very least, to signal its presence to any survivors capable of receiving

audio stimulus.

Visibility was nil as they approached the grounded ship. The whole area was in

the grip of one of the sandstorms which regularly swept this harsh, near-desert

world, and the picture of the barren, mountainous surface was a sensor

simulation rather than direct vision. It accurately reproduced the succession

of wind-eroded hills and rocky outcroppings and the patches of thorny vegetation

which clung to them. Then suddenly they were above and past the grounded ship.

Fletcher pulled Rhabwar into a steep climb which became a ponderous loop as they

curved back for a slower pass over the landing site. This time, as they flew low

over the other ship at close to stalling speed, there was a brief cessation in

the storm and they were able to record the scene in near-perfect detail.

Rhabwar was climbing into space again when the Captain said, "I can't put this

ship down anywhere near that area, Doctor. I'm afraid we'll have to check for

survivors, if there are any, with the planetary lander. There aren't any obvious

signs of life from the wreck."

Conway studied the still picture of the crash site on his screen for a moment

before replying. It was arguable whether the ship had made a heavy landing or a

barely controlled crash. Much less massive than Rhabwar, it had been designed to

land on its tail, but one of the three stabilizer fins had collapsed on impact,

tipping the vessel onto its side. In spite of this the hull was relatively

undamaged except for a small section amidships which had been pierced by a low

ridge of rock. There was no visible evidence of damage other than that caused by

the crash.

All around the wreck at distances varying from twenty to forty meters there were

an number of objects—Conway counted twenty-seven of them in all—which the sensor

identified as organic material. The objects had not changed position between the

first and second of Rhabwar's thunderous fly-bys, so the probability was that

they were either dead or deeply uncon-

scious. Conway stepped up the magnification until the outlines became indistinct

in the heat shimmer, and shook his head in bafflement.

The objects had been, or were, living creatures, and even though they had been

partly covered by windblown sand, he could see a collection of protuberances,

fissures, and angular projections which had to be sensory organs and limbs.

There was a general similarity in shape but a marked difference in size of the

beings, but he thought they were more likely to be representatives of different

subspecies rather than adults and their young at different stages of

development.

"Those life-forms are new to me," the pathologist said, standing back from the

screen. She looked at Conway and the others in turn. There was no dissent.

Conway thumbed the communicator button. "Captain,"he said briskly, "Murchison

and Naydrad will go down with me. Prilicla will remain on board to receive

casualties." Normally that would have been the Kelgian Charge Nurse's job, but

nobody there had to be told that the fragile little empath would last for only a

few minutes on the surface before being blown away and smashed against the rocky

terrain. He went on, "I realize that four people on the lander will be a tight

squeeze, but initially I'd like to take a couple of pressure litters and the

usual portable equipment—"

"One large pressure litter, Doctor," Fletcher broke in. 'There will be five

people on board. I am going down as well in case there are technical problems

getting into the wreck. You're forgetting that if the life-forms are new to the

Federation, then their spaceship technology could be strange as well. Dodds will

fetch anything else you need on the next trip down. Can you be ready at the

lander bay in fifteen minutes?"

"We'll be there," Conway said, smiling at the eagerness in the other's voice.

Fletcher wanted to look at the inside of that wrecked ship just as badly as

Conway wanted to investigate the internal workings of its crew. And if there

were survivors, Rhabwar would shortly be engaged in conducting another medial

first contact with all the hidden problems, both clinical and cultural, which

that implied.

Fletcher's eagerness was underlined by the fact that he rather than Dodds took

the vehicle down and landed it in a ridiculously

small area of flat sand within one hundred meters of the wreck. From the surface

the wind-eroded rock outcroppings looked higher, sharper, and much more

dangerous, but the sandstorm had died down to a stiff breeze which lifted the

grains no more than a few feet above the ground. From the orbiting Rhabwar,

Haslam reported occasional wind flurries passing through their area which might

briefly inconvenience them.

One of the flurries struck while they were helping Naydrad unload the litter, a

bulky vehicle whose pressure envelope was capable of reproducing the gravity,

pressure, and atmosphere requirements of most of the known life-forms. Gravity

nullifiers compensated for the litter's considerable weight, making it easily

manageable by one person, but when the sudden wind caught it, Naydrad, Dodds,

and Conway had to throw themselves across it to keep it from blowing away.

"Sorry about this," Lieutenant Dodds said, as if by studying the available

information on the planet he was somehow responsible for its misdemeanors. "It

is about two hours before local midday here, and the wind usually dies down by

now. It remains calm until just before sunset, and again in the middle of the

night when there is a severe drop in temperature. The sandstorms after sunset

and before dawn are very bad and last for three to five hours, when outside work

would be very dangerous. Work during the night lull is possible but

inadvisable. The local animal life is small arid omnivorous, but those thorn

carpets on the slope over there have a degree of mobility and have to be

watched, especially at night. I'd estimate five hours of daylight calm to

complete the rescue. If it takes longer than that, it would be better to spend

the night on Rhabwar and come back tomorrow."

As the Lieutenant was speaking, the wind died again so that they were able to

see the wreck, the dark objects scattered around it, and the harsh, arid

landscape shimmering in the heat. Five hours should be more than enough to ferry

up the casualties to Rhabwar for preliminary treatment. Anything done for then)

down here would be done quickly, simple first aid.

"Did they bother to name this Godforsaken planet?" the Captain asked, stepping

down from the lander's airlock.

Dodds hesitated, then said, "Trugdil, sir."

Fletcher's eyebrows rose, Murchison laughed, and they could

see agitated movements of Naydrad's fur under its lightweight suit. It was the

Kelgian who spoke first.

"The trugdil," it said, "is a species of Kelgian rodent with the particularly

nasty habit of—"

"I know," the astrogator said quickly. "But it was a Kelgian-crewed Monitor

Corps scoutship which made the discovery. In the Corps it is customary for the

Captain of the discovering ship to give his, her, or its name to the world which

has been found. But in this instance the officer waived the right and offered it

to his subordinates in turn, all of whom likewise refused to give their names to

the planet. Judging by the name it ended with, they didn't think much of the

place either. There was another case when—"

"Interesting," Conway said quietly, "but we're wasting time. Prilicla?"

Through his helmet phones, the empath's voice replied at once. "I hear you,

friend Conway. Lieutenant Haslam is relaying an overall picture of the area to

me through the telescope, and your helmet vision pickups enable me to see all

that you see. Standing by'."

"Very good," Conway said. To the others he went on, "Naydrad will accompany me

with the litter. The rest of you split up and take a quick look at the other

casualties. If any of them are moving, or there are indications of recent

movement, call Pathologist Murchison or me at once."

As they moved off he added, "It is important that we don't waste time on

cadavers at the expense of possible survivors. But be careful. This is a new

life-form to us, and we are likewise strange to it. Physically we may resemble

something it fears, and there is the added factor of the survivor being weak, in

pain, and mentally confused. Guard against an instinctive, violent reaction

from them which, in normal circumstances, would not occur." He stopped talking

because the others were already fanning our and the first casualty, lying very

still and partly covered by sand, was only a few meters away.

As Naydrad helped him scoop sand from around the body Conway saw that the being

was six-limbed, with a stubby, cylindrical torso with a spherical head at one

end and possibly a tail at the other extremity, although the severity of the

injuries made it difficult to be sure. The two forelimbs terminated in

long, flexible digits. There were two recognizable eyes, partially concealed by

heavy lids, and various slits and orifices which were doubtless aural and

olfactory sensors and the openings for respiration and ingestion. The tegument,

which was pale brown shading to a deeper, reddish color on its top surface,

showed many incised wounds and abrasions which had bled freely but had since

congealed and become encrusted with sand—perhaps the sand had assisted in the

process of coagulation. Even the large wound at the rear, which looked as if it

might be the result of a traumatic amputation, was remarkably dry.

Conway bent closer and began going over the body with his scanner. There was no

evidence of fracturing or of damaged or displaced organs, so far as he could

see, so the being could" be moved without risk of complicating its injuries.

Naydrad was waiting with the litter to see whether it was a survivor for

immediate loading or a cadaver for later dissection, when Con-way's scanner's

sensors detected cardiac activity, extremely feeble but undoubtedly present, and

respiration so slow and shallow that he had almost missed it.

"Are you getting this, Prilicla?" he said.

"Yes, friend Conway," replied the empath. "A most interesting life-form."

"There is considerable tissue wastage," he went on, still using the scanner.

"Possibly the result of dehydration. And there is a similarity in degree and

type of the injuries which I find strange..." He trailed off into silence as

Naydrad helped him lift the casualty into the litter.

"No doubt it has already occurred to you, friend Conway," Prilicla said, using

the form of words which was the closest it ever came to suggesting that someone

had missed the obvious, "that the dehydration and the deeper coloration on the

upper areas of the epidermis may be connected with local environmental factors,

and the redness is due to sunburn."

It had not occurred to Conway, but fortunately the emotional radiation

associated with his embarrassment was well beyond the range of the empath. He

indicated the litter and said, "Naydrad, don't forget to fit the sun filter."

In his phones he heard Murchison laughing quietly, then she said, "It hadn't

occurred to me, either, so don't feel bad

about it. But I have a couple of beasties over here I'd like you to look at.

Both are alive, just barely, with a'large number of incised wounds. There is a

great disparity in mass between them, and the arrangement of the internal organs

in the large one is, well, peculiar. For instance, the alimentary canal is—"

"Right now," Conway broke in, "we must concentrate on separating the living and

the dead. Detailed examinations and discussions will have to wait until we're

back on the ship, so spend as little time as possible on each one. But I know

how you feel—my casualty has some peculiarities as well."

"Yes, Doctor," she replied coldly, in spite of his half apology. Pathologists,

even beautiful ones like Murchison, he thought, were strange people.

"Captain? Lieutenant Dodds?" he said irritably. "Any other survivors?"

"I haven't been looking at them closely, Doctor," Retcher replied. There was an

odd harshness in his voice. Possibly the condition of the crash victims was

distressing to a nonmedical man, Conway thought, and some of these casualties

were in really bad shape. But before he could reply the Captain went on, "I've

been moving around the area quickly, counting them and looking to see if any

have been covered by sand or hidden between rocks. There are twenty-seven of

them in all. But the positioning of the bodies is odd, Doctor. It's as if the

ship was in imminent danger of blowing up or catching fire, and they used the

last of their remaining strength to escape from it.

"The sensors show no such danger," he added.

Dodds waited for a few seconds to be sure that the Captain had finished

speaking, then said, "Three alive and showing slight movement. One that looks

dead, but you're the doctor, Doctor."

' "Thank you," Conway said dryly. "We'll look at them as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant, help Naydrad load the litter, please."

He joined Murchison then, and for the next hour they moved among the casualties,

assessing the degree of injury and readying them for transfer to the lander.

The litter was almost full and had space for two of the medium-sized casualties,

which they had tentatively classified as belonging to physiological

type DCMH,. or one of the large DCOJs. The very small DCLGs, which were less

than half the mass of the DCMH Conway had first examined, were left for the time

being because they all showed flickerings of life. As yet neither Murchison nor

Con-way could make sense of them physiologically. She thought the small DCLGs

might be nonintelligent lab animals or possibly ship's pets, while Conway was

convinced that the large DCOJs were food animals, also nonintelligent. But with

newly discovered e xtra-terrestrial life-forms, one could never be sure of

anything, and all of them would therefore have to be treated as patients.

Then they found one of the small aliens who was quite definitely dead. Murchison

said briskly, "I'll work on it in the lander. Give me fifteen minutes and I'll

have something to tell Prilicla about their basal metabolism before the

casualties begin arriving."

A flurry of wind blew the sand disturbed by her feet ahead of her as she moved

toward the lander, the small cadaver supported by her shoulder and one arm while

the other hand, carrying her med kit, acted as a counterbalance. Conway was

about to suggest that a proper examination on Rhabwar, where the full laboratory

facilities were available, would be better. But Murchis-on would already have

considered doing that and decided agai nst it, for two obvious reasons: If she

returned to the ambulance ship with Dodds and Naydrad, some of the casualties

already loaded would have to be left behind, and she needed to tell Prilicla

only enough for the empath to provide emergency surgery and supportive treatment

until the survivors were taken to Sector General.

"Captain, you overheard?" Conway said. "I'd like Dodds and Naydrad to take off

as soon as Pathologist Murchison is through. It looks as if three trips will be

necessary to lift all of them, and another for ourselves. We're going to be

pushed for time if th is is to be wrapped up before the sunset storm hits the

area."

There wa_s no reply from Fletcher, which usually signified assent when Conway

was in command. He went on, "Murchison will stay behind and assemble another

batch of casualties for the next lift. We'll collect them where there is shelter

from

the sun and sand. The lee side of the wreck would do, or better still, inside it

if there isn't too much debris."

"No, Doctor," the Captain said. "I'm worried about what we might find on that

ship."

Conway did not reply, but the sigh he gave as he continued his examination of

the casualty he was working on made his impatience clear. Fletcher was one of

the Monitor Corps' acknowledged experts in the field of alien ship technology.

This was the reason he had been given command of Sector General's most advanced

ambulance ship—it had long been recognized that a rescue mission's greatest

danger was to the rescuers, who would be looking for survivors in a distressed

vessel whose technology and operating principles they did not understand.

Fletcher was careful, conscientious, highly competent, and did not as a rule

worry out loud about his work or ability to carry it out. Conway was still

wondering about the Captain's uncharacteristic behavior when a shadow fell

across the casualty he was examining.

Fletcher was standing over him and looking as worried as he had sounded. "I

realize, Doctor," the Captain said awkwardly, "that during rescue operations

you have the rank. I want you to know that I go along with this willingly. But

on this occasion I believe the circumstances are such that complete authority

should revert to me." He glanced back at the wreck and then down at the badly

injured alien. "Doctor, do you have any experience in forensic medicine?"

Conway sat back on his haunches and simply gaped at him. Retcher took a deep

breath and went on. "The distribution and condition of the casualties around the

wreck seemed wrong to me," he said seriously. "It indicated a rapid evacuation

of a relatively undamaged ship, even though our sensors showed no radiation or

fire hazard. As well, all of the casualties were severely injured to varying

degrees and with the same type of wounding. It seemed to me that some of them

would have been able to make a greater distance from their ship than others, yet

sll of them collapsed within a relatively small radius from the wreck. This made

me wonder whether the injuries had been sustained inside the ship or close to

where they were lying."

"A local predator," Conway said, "which attacked them as

they came out already shocked and weakened as a result of the crash."

The Captain shook his head. "No life-form capable of inflicting such injuries

inhabits this world. Most of the injuries I've seen are incised wounds or those

caused by the removal of a limb. This suggests the use of a sharp instrument of

some kind. The user of the instrument may or may not be still on board the ship.

If it is on board, it may be that the beings who escaped were the lucky ones, in

which case I hate to think of what we may find inside the wreck. But you can see

now why I must resume overall responsibility, Doctor.

"The Monitor Corps is the Federation's law-enforcement arm," he concluded

quietly. "It seems to me that a very serious-crime has been committed, and I am

a policeman first and an ambulance driver second."

Before Con way could reply, Murchison said, "The condition of this cadaver, and

the other casualties I've examined, does not preclude such a possibility."

'Thank you, ma'am," the Captain said. "That is why I want the medical team back

on Rhabwar while Dodds and I arrest this criminal. If things go wrong, Chen and

Haslam can get you back to the hospital—"

"Haslam, sir," the Communications Officer's voice broke in. "Shall I request

Corps assistance?"

The Captain did not reply at once, and Con way began thinking that the other's

theory could very well explain why a previously undamaged ship had released a

distress beacon and then left the scene to try for a planetary landing.

Something had gotten loose among the crew, perhaps. Something which might have

been confined had escaped, something very, very nasty. With an effort Conway

brought his runaway imagination under control. "We can't be absolutely sure that

a criminal was responsible for this. A nonintelligent experimental animal which

broke loose, injured and perhaps maddened with pain, could have done—"

"Animals use teeth and claws, doctor," the Captain broke in. "Not knives."

"This is a completely new species," Conway replied. "We don't know anything

about them, their culture or their codes of behavior. They may be ignorant of

our particular laws."

"Ignorance of the law," Fletcher said impatiently, "has never been an acceptable

excuse for committing a criminal act against another intelligent being. Just as

ignorance of law by the innocent victim does not exclude the being concerned

from its protection."

"I agree—" Conway began. "But I am not completely sure that a crime has been

committed," he went on. "Until I am sure, you, Haslam, will not send for help.

But keep a close watch on this area and if anything moves, apart from the

survivors or ourselves, let me know at once. Very soon Dodds will be taking off

with the lander and—"

"Naydrad and the casualties," Murchison ended for him. Quietly but firmly she

went on, "Your theory scares hell out of me, Captain, but it is still only a

theory. You've admitted as much yourself. The facts are that there are a large

number of casualties all around us. They don't know it yet but they are entitled

to the protection of Federation law. Whether their injuries are due to the crash

or to being carved up by some psychopathic or temporarily deranged alien, they

are also entitled, under that same law, to all necessary medical assistance."

The Captain looked toward the lander where the Pathologist was still working on

the specimen, then back to the Doctor.

"I've nothing to add," Conway said.

Fletcher remained silent while Murchison completed her investigation and Dodds

and Naydrad transferred two casualties into the lander. He did not speak while

the vehicle was taking off or when Conway selected a spot under a large

outcropping of rock which would give waiting casualties shelter from the sun and

windblown sand. Neither did he offer to help them carry the injured e-ts to the

assembly point even though, without the litter, it was hot, back-breaking work.

Instead he moved among the e-ts with his vision pickup, recording them

individually before and after the ground had been disturbed around ftem by

Murchison and Conway, and always positioning himself between the two medics and

the wreck.

Plainly the Captain was taking his strange, new role as a Policeman and

protector of the innocent bystanders very seriously indeed.

The cooling unit in his suit did not seem to be working very *eH and Conway

would have loved to open his visor for a few

minutes. But doing that, even in the shelter of the outcropping, would have

meant letting in a lot of windblown sand.

"Let's rest for a while," he said as they placed another casualty beside its

fellows. "Time we had a talk with Prilicla."

"That is a pleasure at any time, friends Murchison and Conway," the empath said

promptly. "While I am, of course, beyond the range of the emotional radiation

being generated down there, I sympathize and hope that your feelings of anxiety

about the criminal are not too unpleasant."

"Our feelings of bewilderment are much stronger," Conway said dryly. "But maybe

you can help relieve them by going over our information, incomplete as it is,

before the first casualties reach you."

There was still a little doubt about the accuracy of the physiological

classifications, Conway explained, but there were three separate but related

types—DCLG, DCMH, and DCOJ. The wounds fell into two general categories, incised

and abraded wounds which could have resulted when the ship's occupants were

hurled against sharp-edged metal during the crash, and a traumatic amputation of

major limbs which was so prevalent among the casualties that an explanation

other than the crash was needed to explain them.

All of the survivors had body temperatures significantly greater than the norm

for warm-blooded oxygen breathers, indicating a high metabolic rate and a

hyperactive life-form. This was supported by the uniformly deep state of

unconsciousness displayed by all of the casualties, and the evidence of

dehydration and malnutrition. Beings who burned up energy rapidly rarely

lingered in a semiconscious state. There were also signs that the beings had an

unusual ability to control bleeding from severe wounds. Coagulation in the

incised wounds, perhaps assisted by the presence of the sand, was rapid but not

abnormally so, while the stumps at the amputation sites showed little evidence

of bleeding.

"Supportive treatment to relieve the dehydration and malnutrition is all that

can be done until we get them to the hospital," Conway went on. "Murchison has

already specified the nutrients suited to their metabolism. You can also insert

sutures as you see fit. If the load is too great for you, which in my opinion it

is, retain Naydrad and send down only the pilot with

the litter. Murchison can ride with the casualties on the next trip. She will

stay with you while Naydrad comes down for the last batch."

There was a moment's silence, then the empath said, "I wider-stand, friend

Conway. But have you considered the fact that your suggestion will mean three

members of the medical team being on Rhabwar for a lengthy period and only one,

yourself, on the surface where medical assistance is most urgently needed? I

.am sure that, with the aid of the Casualty Deck's handling devices and the

assistance of friends Haslam and Chen, I can cope with these patients."

It was possible that Prilicla could cope with the patients provided they

remained unconscious. But if they came to suddenly and reacted instinctively to

their strange and, to them, perhaps frightening surroundings, and to the giant

but incredibly fragile insect medic hovering over them, Conway shuddered to

think of what might happen to the empath's eggshell body and pipestem limbs.

Before he could reply, Prilicla was speaking again. .

"I am beyond the range of your emotional radiation, of course," the empath said,

"but from long contact with the both of you I know of the strength of the

emotional bond between friend Murchison and yourself. This, taking into account

the strong possibility that there is a very dangerous life-form loose down

there, is undoubtedly a factor in your decision to send her to the safety of the

ship. But perhaps friend Murchison would suffer less emotional discomfort if she

remained with you."

Murchison looked up from the casualty she was attending. "Is that what you were

thinking?"

"No," Conway lied.

She laughed and said, "You heard that, Prilicla? He is a Person utterly lacking

in consideration and sensitivity. I should have married someone like you."

"I am highly complimented, friend Murchison," the empath Said. "But you have too

few legs."

There was the sound of Fletcher clearing his throat disapprovingly at this

sudden and unseemly levity, but the Captain

did

not speak. He could no doubt appreciate as well as any of the need to relieve

fear tensions.

"Very well," Con way said. "Pathologist Murchison will remain with her feet, and

too few legs, on Trugdil. Doctor Prilicla, you will keep Charge Nurse Naydrad

with you, since it will obviously be of greater assistance in preparing and

presenting the casualties for examination and treatment than would the Engineer

and Communications officer. Haslam or Dodds can return with the litter and

medical supplies which we will specify later. Questions?"

"No questions, friend Conway," Prilicla said. "The lander is docking now."

Murchison and Conway returned their full attention to the casualties. The

Captain was examining the hull of the wreck. They could hear him tapping at the

outer skin and making the metallic scraping noises characteristic of magnetic

sound sensors being moved across the surfaces. The wind kept changing direction

so that the casualties in the shadow of the outcropping were sheltered only from

the sun and not the wind-driven sand.

From Rhabwar Haslam reported that the area was being affected by a small, local

sandstorm which should clear before the lander returned in half an hour. He

added reassuringly that nothing was moving in the area except themselves and

several patches of ambulating thorn bushes, which would lose -a race against a

debilitated tortoise.

All but three of the casualties had been moved to the outcropping, and while

Conway was bringing them in the pathologist was protecting the others from the

wind and sand by loosely wrapping them in transparent plastic sheets after first

attaching a small oxygen cylinder to each survivor. The tanks released a metered

quantity of gas calculated to satisfy the metabolic requirements of the entity

concerned. They had decided that encasing the casualties in makeshift oxygen

tents could do no harm since the pure oxygen would assist the weak respiration

and aid in the healing of the wounds, but with a completely new life-form one

could never be sure of anything. Certainly the treatment showed no sign of

returning any of the casualties to consciousness.

"The uniformly deep level of unconsciousness bothers me," Murchison said as

Conway returned carrying, with difficulty, one of the large aliens they had

classified as DCOJ. "The level

does not bear any relation to the number or severity of the wounds. Could they

be in a state of hibernation?"

"The onset was sudden," Conway said doubtfully. "They were in the process of

fleeing their ship, according to the Captain. Hibernation usually occurs in a

place of safety, not when the being concerned is in immediate physical danger."

"I was thinking of an involuntary form of hibernation," Murchison said, "perhaps

induced by their injuries, which enables them to survive until help

arrives—What was thatT

That was a loud, metallic screeching noise which came from the wreck. It lasted

for a few seconds, then there was a moment's silence before it was repeated.

They could hear heavy breathing in their suit phones so it had to be coming from

Fletcher.

"Captain," Murchison said, "are you all right?"

"No trouble, ma'am," Fletcher replied at once. "I've found a hatch in what

appears to be a cargo hold. It is, or was, a simple hermetically sealed door

rather than an airlock. When the ship tipped over the door couldn't open fully

because the outer edge dug into the sand, which I've now cleared away. The hatch

opens freely now but the hinges were warped in the crash, as you probably heard.

Two of the occupants were trying to escape, but couldn't squeeze through the

narrow opening. They are one of the large- and one of the medium-sized types,

both with amputation wounds, neither of them moving. Shall I bring them to you?"

"I'd better look at them first," Conway said. "Give me a few minutes to finish

with this one."

As they were placing the last casualty inside its makeshift oxygen tent,

Murchison said, "Have you found any trace of the criminal, Captain?"

"Other than the wounding on these two, no ma'am," Fletcher replied. "My sensors

pick up no trace of bodily movement inside the ship, nothing but a few quiet,

intermittent sounds suggesting settling debris. I'm pretty sure it is outside

the ship somewhere."

"In that case," she said, looking at Conway, "I'll go with you."

The wind died and the sand settled as they neared the wreck

so that they could see clearly the black rectangular opening in the hull just at

ground level, and the arm of the Captain waving at them from inside it. There

were so many other openings caused by sprung plating and access hatches that

without Fletcher's signal they would not have known which gap was the right

one. From outside it looked as if the ship was ready to fall apart, but when

they crawled through the opening and stood up their helmet lights showed little

evidence of internal damage.

"How did the others get out?" Conway asked. He knelt and began running his

scanner over the larger of the two casualties. There was evidence of a traumatic

amputation of a major limb but the other injuries were superficial.

"There is a large personnel hatch on the upper surface of the hull forward,"

Fletcher replied. "At least it was on the upper side after the ship toppled.

Presumably they had to slide down the curve of the hull and jump to the ground,

or move along the ship to the prow, which isn't very far from the ground, and

jump from there. These two were unlucky."

"One of them was very unlucky," Murchison said. "The DCOJ is dead. Its injuries

were not as severe as the other cases I've seen, but there is evidence of lung

damage by a corrosive gas of some kind, according to my analyzer. What about

your DCMH?"

"This one is alive," Conway said. "Similar general condition, including the

lung damage. Probably it is simply a much tougher life-form than the other two."

"I wonder about this DCOJ life-form," Murchison said thoughtfully. "Is it

intelligent at all? The small DCLG and the DCMH almost certainly are: The limb

extremities terminate in specialized manipulators, and the former seems to have

developed six hands and no feet. But the big DCOJ has four feet and two clawed

forward appendages, and is otherwise made up of teeth and a large system of

stomachs."

"Which is empty," Conway said. After a moment he added, "All of the cases I've

examined so far had empty stomachs."

"Mine as well," Murchison said. They stared at each other for a moment, then

Conway said, "Captain,"

Fletcher had been working on what seemed to be the inboard entrance to the hold,

reaching high above his head because he was standing on a wall with the floor

and ceiling on each side

of him. There was a loud click and a door swung downward and hung open. The

Captain made a self-satisfied sound and joined them.

"Yes, Doctor."

Conway cleared his throat and said, "Captain, we have a theory about your

criminal. We think that the condition of distress which caused this ship to

release its beacon was hunger. All of the casualties we've examined so far have

had empty stomachs. It is possible, therefore, that your criminal is a crew

member who turned cannibal."

Before Fletcher could reply, the voice of Prilicla sounded in their phones.

"Friend Conway," the empath said timidly. "I have not yet examined all of the

casualties you sent up, but those I have examined display symptoms of

dehydration and tissue wastage indicative of hunger and thirst. But the

condition is not far enough advanced for death to be imminent. Your hypothetical

criminal must have attacked the other crew members before lack of food became a

serious problem. The being was hungry but not starving to death. Are you sure

that the creature is intelligent?"

"No," Conway said. "But if Murchison and I have missed it while examining the

first of the casualties, and at that time we were more concerned with charting

the injuries than in the contents, if any, of their stomachs, the beastie could

be on Rhabwar now. So if you find a well-fed casualty, get Haslam and Chen to

restrain it, quickly. The Captain has a professional interest in it."

"That I have," Fletcher said grimly. He was about to go on when Haslam, who had

relieved Dodds as lander pilot, interrupted to say that he would be touching

down in six minutes and would need help loading the litter.

By packing the litter and strapping casualties, sometimes |wo to a couch in the

crew's positions, Haslam was able to lift just over half of the remaining

survivors. There was no change 'n the condition of the remaining casualties. The

shadow of the outcropping had lengthened, though the air was still warm; the sky

remained clear and there was no wind. Murchison said fhat she could usefully

spend the time until the lander returned 'nvestigating, so far as she was able

with her portable equip-

ment, the large DCOJ cadaver they had left in the wreck. The medium-sized DCMH

survivor had gone up with Haslam.

It was obvious from the start that Fletcher found the dissection distasteful,

and when Murchison told him that there was enough light for the work from the

helmet spots of Conway and herself, he left quickly and began climbing among the

containers fastened to the now-vertical deck beside them. After about fifteen

minutes he reported that his scanner showed the contents to be identical and,

judging by the amount of packing used, were almost certainly cargo rather than

ship's stores. He added that he intended moving into the corridor outside the

hold to explore, look for other casualties, and gather evidence.

"Do you have to do it now, Captain?" Murchison said wor-v riedly, looking up.

Conway turned to regard Fletcher, too, but somehow his eyes did not rise above

the level of the other's waist and the weapon attached to it.

"Do you know, Captain," he said quietly, "you have been wearing a sidearm ever

since Rhabwar's first mission, and I've barely noticed it? It was just a part of

your uniform, like the cap and insignia. Now it looks even more conspicuous than

your backpack."

Fletcher looked uncomfortable as he said, "We're taught that the psychological

effect of displaying a weapon is negligible among the law-abiding, but

increases in direct proportion to the guilt or harmful intentions of the

criminal or potential lawbreaker. However, the effect of my weapon was purely

psychological until Lieutenant Haslam brought down the charges for it a few

minutes ago." Defensively he added, "There was no need to wear a loaded weapon

on an ambulance ship, and I'd no reason to believe that this would be a police

operation."

Murchison laughed softly and returned to her work, and Conway joined her. As the

Captain turned to go, he said, "We can't spend much time here, but I must make

as full a report as possible of the incident and all relevant circumstances.

This is a new species to the Federation, a different technology, and the purpose

of this ship might have a bearing on the case. Was our criminal a responsible

being, perhaps a captive, or an unintelligent animal? If it was intelligent was

it deranged, and if so why? And was the distressed condition of the ship and

crew a contributory factor? I know that it is difficult to conceive of

extenuating circumstances for grievous wounding and cannibalism, but until all

the facts are known—"

He broke off and placed his sensor against the deck beside him. A few seconds

later he went on, "There is nothing other than ourselves moving inside the

wreck. I've left the outside hatch open only a few inches. If anything tried to

get in you will have plenty of warning, either from the beastie itself forcing

it open against the sand or from the sensors on Rhabwar. I can get back to you

in plenty of time in any case, so you have nothing to worry about."

While they resumed the dissection they could follow every step of the Captain's

progress stern ward, because he insisted on verbally describing and amplifying

the pictures he was sending up to Dodds. The corridor was low and not very

roomy by Earth-human standards, he reported. He had to crawl on hands and knees

and it would be difficult to turn around to come back other than at an

intersection. Cable looms and air or hydraulic pipelines ran along the sidewalls

of the corridor, and coarse-mesh netting was. attached to the floor and ceiling

indicating that the ship did not possess an artificial gravity system.

Aft of the compartment occupied by the medics there was another cargo deck, and

beyond that the unmistakable shapes of the hyperdrive generators. Further aft

the reactor and thrust-ers were sealed from him and heavily shielded, but the

sensor indications were that there had been a complete power shutdown—probably

an automatic safety measure built into the design—when the ship had toppled. But

he could detect a residue of power in some of the corridor lines which he

thought might be associated with an emergency lighting circuit, and he thought

he had identified a light switch.

It was a light switch, he confirmed a few seconds later. A large stretch of the

corridor was illuminated. The lighting was uncomfortably bright but his eyes

were adjusting to it. He was moving amidships.

They heard him pause outside their cargo hold, and suddenly the lights came on

all over the ceiling beside them. Conway switched off his now-unnecessary helmet

light.

"Thank you, Captain," he said, then continuing the discussion he had been

having with Murchison, went on, "There is capacity for a large brain in the

cranium, but we cannot assume

that all of the available'volume is used for cerebration. I don't see how a

beastie with four feet and two manipulators which are little more than claws

could be a tool user, much less a crew member of a starship. And those teeth

bother me. They are certainly not those of a predator. In the distant past they

might have been fearsome natural weapons, but now their condition shows that

they have not much to do."

Murchison nodded. "The stomach system is overlarge in relation to the mass of

the being," she said, "yet there is no evidence of adipose or excess edible

tissue which would be present if it was an animal bred for food. And the stomach

resembles that of an Earth-type ruminant. The digestive system is odd, too, but

I'd have to work out the whole intake to elimination cycle to make any sense out

of it, and I can't do that down here. I'd love to know what these things ate

before their food ran out."

"I'm passing a storage deck of some kind," Fletcher said at that point. "It is

divided into large racks with passages between mem. The racks are filled with

containers of different colors and sizes with funnellike dispensers at one end.

There are wastebins holding empties, and some of the full and empty containers

have spilled out into the corridor."

"May I have samples, please," Murchison said quickly, "of both."

"Yes, ma'am," the Captain replied. "Considering the starved condition of the

survivors they are more likely to contain paint or lubricant than food. But I

expect you have to eliminate all possibilities, like me. I am moving toward the

next—Oh!"

Conway opened his mouth to ask what was happening but the Captain forestalled

him.

"I switched on the lighting for this section and found two more casualties," he

reported. "One is a DCMH, one of the medium-sized ones, which was crushed by a

buckled structural member and certainly dead. The other is the small, DCLG

life-form, with one amputation wound, not moving. I'm fairly sure that it's

dead, too. This is the section of the ship which fell across the outcropping

when she tipped over.

"The internal structure is badly deformed," he went on, "with sprung deck and

wall plating all over the place. There are also two large, wall-mounted

cylinders which seem to have

been the reservoir for a hydraulic actuator system. Both have been ruptured and

their connecting lines fractured, and there is a faint fog surrounding them as

if some of the contents remains and is evaporating.

"Ahead the corridor is partly blocked by wreckage," he continued. "I can move it

but there will be a lot of noise, so don't—"

"Captain," Conway broke in. "Can you please bring us the DCLG and a sample of

the hydraulic fluid with the other samples as soon as you can." To Murchison he

added, "I'd like to know if the lung damage is associated with that leakage. It

would eliminate another possibility."

Fletcher sounded irritated at having to break off his investigation of the

ship. He said shortly, "They'll be outside your hold entrance in ten minutes,

Doctor."

By the time Conway had retrieved the samples the Captain had already returned to

the midships section, but once again his investigation was interrupted, this

time by Lieutenant Dodds.

"The lander is ready to leave, sir," the Astrogator said. There was a certain

hesitancy in his voice as he went on, "I'm afraid there will be time for only

one round trip before sunset, so would the Doctor and you decide which

casualties should be lifted and which left there for retrieval tomorrow? With

you three and Haslam on board just over half of the remaining casualties can be

lifted, less if you bring up all portable equipment."

"I'm not leaving unattended casualties down here," Conway said firmly. "The drop

in temperature and the sandstorms would probably finish them!"

"Maybe not," Murchison said thoughtfully. "If we have to leave some of them, and

it seems we've no choice, we could cover them with sand. They have a high body

temperature, the sand is a good insulator, and they are already sealed up with a

self-contained oxygen supply."

"I've heard of doctors burying their mistakes," Conway began dryly, but Dodds

broke in again.

"Sorry, there is a problem there, Ma'am," he said. "There 316 four large thorn

patches moving toward the wreck. Slowly, af course, but we estimate their

arrival just before midnight. According to my information the thorns are

omnivorous and

trap mobile prey by slowly encircling it, often at a distance, and allowing the

animal to scratch itself on the thorns. These secrete a poison which is

paralyzing or lethal, depending on the size of the prey and number of scratches.

When the prey is immobilized the thorn clump inserts its roots and removes

whatever nutrient material there is available.

"I don't think your buried casualties," he added grimly, "would survive till

morning."

Murchison swore in very unladylike fashion, and Conway said, "We could move them

into the hold here and seal the hatch. We would need heaters and a medical

monitor arid— I'm still not happy about leaving them unattended."

"Obviously this is something which will have to be carefully considered,

Doctor," the Captain said. "Your casualties wilf not only have to be attended,

they may have to be defended as well. Dodds, how long can you delay the launch?"

"Half an hour, sir," the Astrogator said. "Then allowing another half hour for

the trip and at least an hour on the surface to load up and make provision for

the other casualties. If the lander does not leave in two and a half hours there

will be serious problems with the wind and sand during take-off."

"Very well," Fletcher said. "We should reach a decision in half an hour. Hold

the lander until then."

But there was very little discussion and the decision was made, in spite of

anything Murchison and Conway could say to the contrary, by the Captain.

Fletcher stated that the two medics on Trugdil had done everything possible for

the casualties and could do nothing further without the facilities of Rhabwar,

except keep them under observation. The Captain insisted that he was capable of

doing that, and of defending them in case they were attacked again.

He was sure that the criminal responsible for their injuries was not currently

on the ship, but it might return to the shelter of the wreck when the cold and

the sandstorms returned, or even to escape the advancing thorn clumps. He added

that the proper place for all of the medical team was on Rhabwar where the

casualties there could t?e given proper attention.

"Captain," Conway said angrily, unable to refute his arguments, "in the medical

area I have complete authority."

UCINCttAU. »/

"Then why don't you exercise it responsibly, Doctor?" Fletcher replied.

"Captain," Murchison broke in quickly, trying to head off an argument which

could sour relations on the ambulance ship for weeks to come. "The DCLG specimen

you found was not badly injured, compared with some of the others, but it was

defunct, I'm afraid. Severe inflammation of the breathing passages and massive

lung damage similar to the one you found in the hold. Both sets of lungs

contained traces of the sample you took from the hydraulic reservoir. That is

lethal stuff, Captain, so don't open your visor anywhere near a leak."

"Thank you, ma'am, I won't," Fletcher said calmly, and went on, "Dodds, you can

see that the stretch of corridor ahead has been crushed almost flat. There is

enough space for crew members to squeeze through, but I will have to cut away a

lot of this jagged metal—"

Conway switched off his radio and touched his helmet against Murchison's so that

they could speak privately. He said furiously, "Whose side are you on?"

She grinned at him through her visor, but before she could reply Prilicla's

voice rustled timidly from the phones. The empath, too, was trying to calm a

potentially unpleasant source of emotional radiation.

"Friend Conway," it said, "while friend Fletcher's arguments are valid, and I

would personally welcome the presence of friend Murchison and yourself back on

board, friend Naydrad and myself are coping adequately with the patients, all of

whom are in a stable condition with the exception of three of the small DCLGs

who are showing a slight reduction in body temperature."

"Deepening shock, do you think?" Conway asked.

"No, friend Conway," Prilicla replied. "There seems to be a slight improvement

in their general condition."

"Emotional radiation?"

"Nothing on the conscious level, friend Conway," the empath replied, "but there

are unconscious feelings of deprivation, and need."

"They are all hungry," Conway said dryly, "except one."

"The thought of that one is abhorrent to me, too," Prilicla

said. "But to return to the condition of the patients: The lung damage and

inflammation of the breathing passages noted by friend Murchison is repeated, to

a much lesser degree of severity, in the other survivors, and the cause is

correctly attributed to the damaged reservoir. But it is possible that

operating in Trugdil conditions with the less sensitive portable equipment—"

"Prilicla," Conway said impatiently, "what you mean is that we were too blind or

stupid to spot an important medical:datum, but you are too nice a person to hurt

our feelings. But intense impatience and curiosity can be unpleasant emotions,

too, so just tell us what you discovered, Doctor."

"I am sorry, friend Conway," said the empath. "It is that the food passage as

well as the breathing passage is similarly inflamed. The condition is relatively

mild, not obvious as are the other areas of inflammation, but is present in

uniform intensity in all of the survivors regardless of physiological

classification. I wondered if there was anything on their ship which would

explain this.

"I am also puzzled by the amputation wounds," Prilicla went on. "I have been

suturing incised wounds, none of which have penetrated to vital organs, and

generally tidying up. But the stumps I have covered with sterile dressings only

until the possibility of replacing the original limbs has been eliminated. Have

you found anything down there which might be a missing limb or organ? Or have

you given thought to the shape, size, and purpose of these missing parts?"

From amidships there were sounds of metal scraping against metal and of erratic,

heavy breathing in their phones as the Captain cleared an obstruction. When it

was quiet again, Murchison said, "Yes, Doctor, but I've formed no firm

conclusions. There is a fairly complex nerve linkage to the stump in all three

types and, in the case of the big DCOJ, a collapsed, tubular connection whose

origin I have been unable to trace because of its close association with the

very complex upper intestinal tract. But taking into account the positioning of

these limbs or organs, which are at the base of the spine in the two smaller

life-forms and on the medial underside of the large one, all 1 can say is that

the missing parts must have been considered particularly edible by the attacker

since it did not remove any-

thing else. I have no clear idea of the size or shape of the missing parts, but

my guess would be that they are probably tails, genitalia, or mammaries—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt a medical conference, ma'am," Fletcher broke in, in a

tone which suggested that he was very glad to interrupt before it could go any

farther. He went on quickly, "Doctor Conway, I've found another DCMH. It is

tangled up in bedding, not moving, and seems to be uninjured. I thought you

might like to examine it here rather than have it pulled through the wreckage in

the corridor."

"I'm on my way," Conway said.

He climbed out of the hold and crawled along the corridor in the Captain's wake,

listening as Fletcher resumed his commentary. Immediately forward of the

cleared section of corridor the Captain had found the Dormitory Deck. It was

characteristic of the early type of hyperships which did not have artificial

gravity, and was filled with rows of sandwich-style double hammocks which

retained the sleeper in weightless conditions. The hammocks were suspended on

shock absorbers so as to double as acceleration couches for off-duty crew

members.

There were three distinct sizes of hammock, so the ship had the DCLG, DCMH, and

DCOJ life-forms in the crew— which proved that even the large and apparently

unintelligent DCOJs were ship's personnel and not lab animals. Judging by the

number and size of the hammocks, the two smaller life-forms outnumbered the

large one by three to one.

He had made a quick count of the hammocks, the Captain said as Conway was

passing the damaged hydraulic system reservoir, and the total number, thirty,

agreed with the number of casualties found outside and inside the ship, which

meant that the missing criminal was almost certainly not of any of the three

species who served as the crew.

It was difficult to be precise regarding occurrences on the Dormitory Deck,

Fletcher explained, because loose objects, ornaments, and personal effects had

collected on the wall when the ship had fallen on its side. But one third of the

hammocks were neatly stowed while the remaining two thirds looked as though they

had been hastily vacated. No doubt the neat hammocks belonged to the crew

members on duty, but the Captain thought it strange that if the ship operated a

one-watch-on, two-

off duty roster the rest of the crew were in their bunks instead of half of them

being outside the dormitory on a recreation deck. But then he was forgetting the

fact that the safest place during the landing maneuver would be inside the

acceleration hammocks.

The Captain was backing out of the dormitory as Conway reached it. Fletcher

pointed and said, "It is close to the inner hull among the DCMH hammocks. Call

me if you need help, Doctor."

He turned and began crawling toward the bows again. But he did not get very far

because by the time Conway reached the casualty he could hear the hiss of the

cutting torch and the Captain's heavy breathing.

It took only a few minutes to piece together what had happened. Two of the

hammock's supports had broken due to the lateral shock when the ship had

fallen—they had been designed to withstand vertical G forces, not horizontal

ones—and the hammock had swung downward throwing its occupant against the

suddenly horizontal wall. There was an area of subcutaneous bleeding where the

DCMH's head had struck, but no sign of a fracture. The blow had not been fatal,

but it had been enough to render the being unconscious or dazed until the highly

lethal vapor from the damaged reservoir had invaded its lungs. This one had been

doubly unlucky, Conway thought as he carefully drew it the rest of the way from

its hammock and extended his examination. There was one wound, the usual one, at

the base of its spine. Conway's scalp prickled at the thought that the attacker

had been inside the dormitory and had struck even at a victim in its hammock.

What sort of creature was it? Small rather than large, he thought. Vicious. And

fast. He looked quickly around the dormitory, then returned his attention to the

cadaver.

"That's unusuaJ," he said aloud. "This one has what seems to be a small quantity

of partially digested food in its stomach." "You think that's unusual."

Murchison said in a baffled tone. "The sample containers from the storage deck

contain food. Liquid, a powdery solid, and some fibrous material, but all

high-grade nutrient suited to the metabolisms of all three life-forms. What was

the excuse for cannibalism? And why

OC-w I v-ti vji_iNi_nr\i_ ivi

the blazes was everybody starving? The whole deck is packed with food!"

"Are you sure—?" began Conway, when he was cut off by a voice in his phones

which was so distorted that he could not tell who was speaking.

"What is that thing?"

"Captain?" he said doubtfully.

"Yes, Doctor." The voice was still distorted, but recognizable.

"You—you've found the criminal?"

"No, Doctor," Fletcher replied harshly. "Another victim. Definitely another

victim—"

"It's moving, sir!" Dodds voice broke in.

"Doctor," the Captain went on, "can you come at once. You too, ma'am."

Fletcher was crouched inside the entrance of what had to be the ship's Control

Deck, using the cutting torch on the tangle of wreckage which almost filled the

space between the ceiling and floor. The place was a shambles, Conway saw by the

light coming through the open hatch above them and the few strips of emergency

lighting which were still operating. Practically all of the ceiling-mounted

equipment had torn free in the fall; ruptured piping and twisted, jagged-edged

supporting brackets projected into the space above the control couches on the

deck opposite.

The control couches had been solidly mounted and had remained in position, but

they were empty, their restraining webbing hanging loose—except for one. This

was a very large, deep cupola around which the other couches were closely

grouped, and it was occupied.

Conway began to climb toward it, but the foothold he had been using gave way

suddenly and a stub of broken-off piping dug him painfully in the side without,

fortunately, rupturing his suit.

"Careful, damn it!" Fletcher snapped. "We don't need another casualty."

"Don't bite my head off, Captain," Conway said, then laughed nervously at his

unfortunate choice of words.

He cringed inwardly as he climbed toward the central cupola

in the wake of the Captain, thinking that the crew on duty and those in the

Dormitory Deck had had to find a way through this mess, and in great haste

because of the toxic vapor flooding through the ship. They were much smaller

than Earth-humans, of course, but even so they must have been badly cut by that

tangle of metal. In fact, they had been badly cut, with the exceptions of the

DCMH in the dormitory and the new life-form above them, neither of whom had

attempted to escape.

"Careful, Doctor," the Captain said.

An idea which had been taking shape at the back of his mind dissolved.

Irritably, Conway said, "What can it do except look at me and twitch its

stumps?"

The casualty hung sideways in its webbing against the lower lip of the cupola, a

great fleshy, elongated pear shape perhaps four times the mass of an adult

human. The narrow end terminated in a large, bulbous head mounted on a walrus

neck which was arched downward so that the two big, widely spaced eyes could

regard the rescuers. Conway could count seven of the feebly twitching stumps

projecting through gaps in the webbing, and there were probably others he could

not see.

He braced himself against a control console which had remained in place and

took out his scanner, but delayed beginning the examination until Murchison, who

had just arrived, could climb up beside him. Then he said firmly, "We will have

to remain with this casualty overnight, Captain. Please instruct Lieutenant

Haslam to evacuate all the other casualties on the next trip, and to bring down

the litter stripped of nonessential life-support equipment so that it will

accommodate this new casualty. We also need extra air tanks for ourselves and

oxygen for die casualty, heaters, lifting gear, and webbing, and anything else

you think we need."

For a long moment the Captain was silent, then he said, "You heard the Doctor,

Haslam."

Fletcher did not speak to them while they were examining the new casualty other

than to warn them when a piece of loose wreckage was about to fall. The Captain

did not have to be told that a wide path would have to be cleared between the

big control cupola and the open hatch if the litter was to be guided in and out

again carrying the large alien. It was likely to be a long, difficult job

lasting most of the coming night, made more

SCO I Utt

difficult by ensuring that none of the debris struck Murchison, Conway, or their

patient. But the two medics were much too engrossed in their examination to

worry about the falling debris.

"I won't attempt to classify this life-form," Conway said nearly an hour later

when he was summing up their findings for Doctor Prilicla. "There are, or were,

ten limbs distributed laterally, of varying thicknesses judging by the stumps.

The sole exception is the one on the underside which is thicker than any of the

others. The purpose of these missing limbs, the number and type of manipulatory

and ambulatory appendages, is unknown.

"The brain is large and well developed," he want on, looking aside at Murchison

for corroboration, "with a small, separate lobe with a high mineral content in

the cell structure suggesting one of the V classifications—"

"A wide-range telepath?" Prilicla broke in excitedly.

"I'd say not," Conway replied. "Telepathy limited to its own species, perhaps,

or possibly simple empathy. This is borne out by the-fact that its ears are well

developed and the mouth, although very small and toothless, has shown itself

capable of modulating sounds. A being who talks and listens cannot be a

wide-range telepath, since the telepathic faculty is supplemented by a spoken

language. But the being did not display agitation on seeing us, which could mean

that it is aware our intentions toward it are good.

"Regarding the airway and lungs," Conway continued, "you can see that there is

the usual inflammation present but that the lung damage is minor. We are

assuming that since the being was unable to move when the gas permeated the

ship, it was able, with its large lung capacity, to hold its breath until most

of the toxic vapor had dissipated. But the digestive system is baffling us. The

food passage is extremely narrow and seems to have collapsed in several places,

and with few teeth for chewing food it is difficult... to see how—"

Con way's voice slowed to a stop while his mind raced on. Beside him Murchison

was making self-derogatory remarks because she, too, had not spotted it sooner,

and Prilicla said, 'Are you thinking what I am thinking, friends?"

There was no need to reply. Conway said, "Captain, where are you?"

.

Fletcher had cleared a narrow path for himself to the open hatch. While they had

been talking they had heard his boots moving back and forth along the outer

hull, but for the past few minutes there had been silence.

"On the ground outside, Doctor," Fletcher replied. "I've been trying to find the

best way of moving out the big one. In my opinion we can't swing it down the

sides of the wreck, too much sprung plating and debris, and the stern isn't much

better. We'll have to lower it from the prow. But carefully. I jarred my ankles

badly when I jumped from it to the sand, which is only about an inch deep over a

gently sloping shelf of rock in that area. Obviously the big life-form needed a

special elevator to board and debark, because the extending ladder arrangement

below the hatch is usable only by the three smaller life-forms.

"I'm about to reenter the ship through the cargo hold hatch," he ended. "Is

there a problem?"

"No, Captain," Conway said. "But on your way here would you bring the cadaver

from the Dormitory Deck?"

Fletcher grunted assent and Murchison and Conway resumed their discussion with

Prilicla, stopping frequently to verify with their scanners the various points

raised. When the Captain arrived pushing the dead DCMH ahead of him, Conway had

just finished attaching an oxygen tank and breathing tube to the patient and

covering its head in a plastic envelope against the time when, during the night,

the entry hatch would be closed and the fumes produced by the cutting torch

against the metal and plastic debris might turn out to be even more toxic than

those from the hydraulic reservoir.

They took the cadaver from Fletcher and, holding it above their heads, fitted it

into one of the control couches designed for it. The big alien did not react and

they tried it in a second, then a third couch. This time the patient's stub

tentacles began to twitch and one of them made contact with the DCMH. It

maintained the contact for several seconds then slowly withdrew and the big

entity became still again.

Conway gave a long sigh, then said, "It fits, it all fits. Prilicla, keep your

patients on oxygen and IV fluids. I don't think they will return to full

consciousness until they have food as well, but the hospital can synthesize that

when we get back." To Murchison he said, "All we need now is an analysis of the

stomach contents of that cadaver. But don't do the dissection here, do it in the

corridor. It would probably, well, upset the Captain."

"Not me," Fletcher said, who was already at work with his cutting torch. "I

won't even look."

Murchison laughed and pointed to the patient hanging above them. She said, "He

was talking about the other Captain, Captain."

Before Fletcher could reply, Haslam announced that he would be landing in

fifteen minutes.

"Better stay with the patient while I help the Captain load the lander," Conway

told Murchison. "Radiate feelings of reassurance at it; that's all we can do

right now. If we all left it might think it was being abandoned."

"You intend leaving her here alone?" Fletcher said harshly.

"Yes, but there is no danger — " Conway began, when the voice of Dodds

interrupted him.

"There is nothing moving within a twenty-mile radius of the wreck, sir," he said

reassuringly, "except thorn patches."

Fletcher said very little while they were helping Haslam move the casualties

from the outcropping into the lander and while they were pushing the litter with

its load of spare equipment to the wreck. It was unlike the Captain, who

usually spoke his mind no matter who or what was bothering him, to behave this

way. But Conway's mind was too busy with other things to have time to probe.

"I was thinking," Conway said when they reached the open cargo hatch, "that

according to Dodds the thorn patches are attracted to food and warmth. We are

going to create a lot of warmth inside the wreck, and there is a storage deck

filled with food containers as well. Suppose we move as much food as we can from

the wreck and scatter it in front of the thorn clumps — that might make them

lose interest in the wreck for a while."

"I hope so," Fletcher said.

The lander took off in a small, self-created sandstorm as Conway was dragging

the first containers of food toward the edge of the nearest thorn patch, which

was about four hundred meters astern of the wreck. They had agreed that Fletcher

would move the containers from the storage deck to the ground outside the hatch,

and Conway would scatter them along the front of the advancing thorns. He had

wanted to use,the litter with its greater capacity and gravity neutralizers, but

Naydrad had stated in its forthright fashion that the Doctor was unused to

controlling the vehicle and if the gravity settings were wrong or a part of the

load fell off, the litter would disappear skyward or blow weightlessly away.

Conway was forced to do it the hard way.

"Make this the last one, Doctor," the Captain said as he was coming in from his

eighth round trip. "The wind is rising."

The shadow of the wreck had lengthened steadily as he worked and the sky had

deepened in color. The suit's sensors showed a marked drop in the outside

temperature, but Conway had been generating so much body heat himself that he

had not noticed it. He threw the containers as far in front and to each side of

him as he could, opening some of them to make sure that the thorns would know

that the unopened containers also held food, although they could probably sense

that for themselves. The thorn clumps covered the sand across a wide front like

black, irregular crosshatching, seemingly motionless. But every time he looked

away for a few minutes then back again, they were closer.

Suddenly the thorn patches and everything else disappeared behind a dark-brown

curtain of sand and a gust of wind punched him in the back, knocking him to his

knees. He tried to get to his feet but an eddy blew him onto his side. Half

crawling and half running, he headed back toward the wreck, although by then he

had no clear idea where it was. The storm-driven sand was hissing so loudly

against his helmet that he could barely hear Dodds' voice.

"My sensors show you heading toward the thorns, Doctor," the astrogator said

urgently. "Turn right about one hundred ten degrees and the wreck is about three

hundred meters distant."

Fletcher was outside the cargo hatch with his suit spotlight turned to maximum

power to guide him in. The Captain pushed him through the hatch and closed it

behind him. The crash had warped the hatch so that sand continued to blow in

around the edges, except near the bottom where it came through in a steady

trickle.

"Within a few minutes the outside of the hatch will be sealed

by a sand drift," Fletcher said without looking at Conway. "It will be difficult

for our cannibal to get in. Dodds will spot it on the sensors anyway and I'll

have time to take the necessary steps."

Conway shook his head and said, "We've nothing to worry about except the wind,

sand, and thorn patches." Silently he added, If that wasn't enough.

The Captain grunted and began climbing through the hatch leading to the

corridor, and Conway crawled after him. But it was not until Fletcher slowed to

pass the leaking hydraulic reservoir, which was steaming very faintly now, that

Conway spoke.

"Is there anything else bothering you, Captain?"

Fletcher stopped and for the first time in over an hour looked directly at the

Doctor. He said, "Yes, there is. That creature in the Control Deck bothers me.

Even in the hospital, what can you do for it, a multiple amputee? It will be

completely helpless, little more than a live specimen for study. I'm wondering

if it would not be better just to let the cold take it and—"

"We can do a great deal for it, Captain," Conway broke in, "if we can get it

safely through the night. Weren't you listening to Murchison, Prilicla, and me

discussing the case?"

"Yes and no, Doctor," Fletcher said, moving forward again. "Some of it was quite

technical, and you might as well have been talking untranslated Kelgian so far

as I was concerned."

Conway laughed quietly and said, "Then I had better translate."

The alien vessel had released, its distress beacon, he explained, not because

of a technical malfunction but because of serious illness on board which had

affected the entire crew. Presumably the least affected crew members were on

duty on the Control Deck while the rest were confined to their hammocks. It was

still not clear why the ship had to put down on a planet. Possibly there were

physiological reasons why a planetary gravity or atmosphere was needed, or

maybe the weightless conditions on board aggravated the condition and they

could not provide artificial gravity by using their thrusters because the crew

were fast losing consciousness. Whatever the reason they had made an emergency

landing on Trugdil. There

were much better landing sites on the planet, but their degree of urgency must

have been extreme and they had landed here.

Conway broke off as they entered the Control Deck because Murchison was high

above them closing the personnel hatch. She said, "Don't let me interrupt you,

but now that we will be using the cutting torches in a confined space, I'm going

to take the patient off pure oxygen. It seems to be breathing easily now. Would

one part oxygen to four inert.be suitable, Doctor?"

"Fine," Conway said. "I'll help you."

The hissing of sand against the outer hull rose suddenly and the whole ship

seemed to lurch sideways. There was a screeching and banging sound from

amidships, which halted suddenly as a section of hull plating tore free and blew

away.

"A piece of the wreck has blown away," Dodds reported unnecessarily, then went

on, "The thorn patches have halted over the food containers, and those nearby

are converging on the area. But there are other large clumps off to the side

which are still heading directly for the wreck. They are moving quite fast. The

wind is behind them and they are letting it carry them forward using only enough

of their root system to maintain a loose hold on the ground. At this rate they

could be at the ship in half an hour."

It was as if an enormous, soft pillow struck the side of the ship. The deck

tilted under their feet, then righted itself. This time it sounded as if maniacs

with sledgehammers were attacking three different sections of the hull until, a

few seconds later, the banging ceased. But to the sound of the sand beating

against the hull plating was added the discordant moaning and whistling of the

wind as it forced its way into the wreck.

"Our defenses," the Captain said worriedly, "have become decidedly porous. But

go on, Doctor."

"The ship made an emergency landing here," Conway resumed, "because they had no

time to look for a better spot. It was a good landing, all things considered,

and it was sheer bad luck that they toppled and as a result ruptured that

hydraulic reservoir. If they hadn't done so it is possible that their illness,

whatever the cause, would have run its course and in time they would have taken

off again. Or maybe the first sandstorm would have knocked them over anyway. But

instead they crash-landed and found themselves suddenly in a wreck which was

rapidly

filling with toxic fumes. Weakened by their condition as they were, they had to

get out fast and, because the escape routes aft led past the source of the

contaminant and were partly blocked by wreckage from the fall, they had to

evacuate through the Control Deck here and along the upper surface of the hull,

then slide to the ground.

"They injured themselves very seriously in doing so," Con-way added.

He paused for a moment to help Murchison change over the patient's air supply.

From the stern there was a clanking sound which reverberated steadily and

monotonously throughout the ship. One of the pieces of wreckage was refusing to

become detached. Conway raised his voice.

"The reason they did not move far from their ship was probably two-fold," he

continued. "As a result of the debilitating effects of their illness, they did

not have the strength to move farther, and I suspect there were strong

psychological reasons for remaining close to their ship. Their physical

condition, the high temperatures, and the indications of malnutrition

observed, which we mistakenly assumed to be due to enforced starvation, were

symptoms of the disease. The state of deep unconsciousness may also have been a

symptom, or possibly some kind of hibernation mode which they adopt when injured

or otherwise distressed and assistance is likely to be delayed, and which slows

the metabolic rate and reduces bleeding."

Fletcher was readying his cutting torch and looking baffled. He said, "Disease

and injuries caused by escaping from the wreck I can believe. But what about the

missing limbs and—"

"Dodds, sir," Rhobwar's astrogator broke in. "I'm afraid the midnight drop in

wind strength will not affect your area. There are local weather disturbances.

Three large thorn patches have reached the stern and sections of the peripheral

growth are entering the food storage deck. A lot of hull plating is missing

there. Once they open that concentrated store of food they'll probably lose

interest in anything else." His optimism sounded forced.

Murchison said, "We're not completely sure that it was a disease that caused the

trouble, Captain. From the analysis of the stomach contents of the cadaver from

the dormitory deck.

the indications are that it was a severe gastrointestinal infection caused by a

bug native to their home planet, and the symptom which led us to suspect

malnutrition was total regurgitation of stomach contents in all of the other

cases. The casualty from the dormitory had been knocked unconscious before the

process was complete and was asphyxiated shortly afterward so that involuntary

regurgitation did not take place. But it is also possible that the ship's own

food supply was contaminated and that caused the trouble."

Conway wondered if it was possible for a mobile omnivorous vegetable to get

food poisoning, and if it would take effect in time to save them from the

thorns. He rather doubted it.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Fletcher said, and went on, "About the missing limbs?"

"There are no missing limbs. Captain," she replied. "Or perhaps the crew are all

missing the same organ, their head. The large number of the other injuries

concealed the truth at first, but there are no missing limbs, and there is no

criminal."

Fletcher looked at Conway, too polite to express his disbelief to the

pathologist in words, and the Doctor took over the explanation. But he had to

work as he talked because he and Murchison were faced with the long, difficult

job of transferring the big alien from its cupola to the litter.

It was hard to imagine the set of environmental circumstances which had caused

such an essentially helpless life-form to evolve, become dominant, and in time

achieve a culture capable of star travel, Conway said, but these gross,

limbless, and all too obviously immobile creatures had done just that. It was a

host-symbiote, they now knew, who had developed multiple symbiotes specialized

so as to act as short-and long-range manipulators and sensors. Its stumps and

the areas which on the casualties had been mistaken for amputation sites were

the interfaces which joined the host creature to its symbiotes when physical

activity became necessary or the host required sustenance.

It was likely that a strong mental as well as physical bond existed between the

host Captain and its crew, but continuous contact was not needed because in and

around the wreck there had been three times the number of crew members as there

OC-V-/ I \jr\ \3CINCnMI_

I I I

were organic connectors on the host. It was also probable that the host entity

did not sleep and provided continual, nonphys-ical support to its symbiotes.

This was borne out by the type of emotional radiation being picked up on Rhabwar

by Prili-cla—confusion and feelings of loss. The host Captain's telepathic or

empathic faculty did not reach as far as the ambulance ship's orbit.

"The smallest, DCLG life-form is independently intelligent and performs the

finer, more intricate manipulative operations," Murchison joined in, clarifying

the situation in her own mind as well as for the Captain, who had disappeared

briefly into the corridor to check on the position of the thorns. "As is the

slightly larger DCMH. But the function of the big DCOJ is purely that of eating

and supplying predigested food to the host. There is evidence, however, that all

three of these life-forms have their own ingestion, digestion, and reproductive

systems, but one of them must figure in the transfer of sperm or ova between

immobile host creatures—"

She broke off as the Captain returned, his cutter in one hand and what looked

like a short, tangled piece of barbed wire in the other. He said, "The thorns

have grown out of the food storage deck and are halfway along the corridor. I

brought you a sample, ma'am."

She took it from him carefully and Conway joined her for a closer look. It was

like a dark-brown, three-dimensional zigzag with fine green thorns growing out

of every angle, except one which sprouted a long, tapering hollow tube like the

vegetable equivalent of a hypodermic needle, and which was probably a root.

She snipped off the thorns with surgical scissors and let them drop into her

analyzer.

"Why did we have to wear lightweight suits?" she said a few minutes later. "A

scratch from a thorn won't kill you, but three or four would. What are you

doing, Captain?"

Fletcher was unclipping the signal flare from his backpack. He said, "You can

see from the charring on the stem that they burn. I removed that sample with the

cutting torch. But the flame isn't self-sustaining. Maybe this will stunt its

growth for a while. Stay clear of the corridor entrance, both of you. These

things were not meant to be used in a confined space."

He set the timer on the flare and threw it as hard as he could

into the corridor. The beam of light which poured out of the entrance was so

intense that it looked almost solid, and the hissing of the flare was louder

even than the sand lashing against the outer hull. The beam maintained its

intensity but began to flicker as smoke poured from the entrance. The thorns

were burning, Conway thought excitedly, and hoped that the pyrotechnics were

not worrying their patient too much. It seemed to be unusually agitated—

There was a sudden, crashing detonation. Pieces of the flare, burning thorn

branches, and parts of the dissected DCMH erupted from the corridor entrance,

and the cupola edge Conway was gripping seemed to jerk in his hands. He hung on

desperately as the vertical deck swung toward him, accompanied by the. screech

of tearing metal. There was a softer shock and the metallic noises ceased. The

emergency lighting had died but there was enough illumination from the

sputtering pieces of flare and their helmet lights to show that the patient had

fallen out of its cupola and was hanging directly above him, suspended only by

its webbing, sections of which were beginning to tear.

"The litter!" Conway shouted. "Help me!"

There was so much smoke from the flare that all he could see clearly were

Murchison's and the Captain's helmet lights. He let go his hold with one hand

and felt around for the litter, which had been left drifting weightlessly with

repulsors set to one negative G so as to make the vehicle easier to maneuver in

the confined space. He found it and a few seconds later felt other hands

steadying it. Above him the alien hung like a great organic tree trunk with its

stumps projecting between the webbing, ready to fall and crush him and probably

kill itself on the charred but still poisonous thorns below them.

Suddenly it sagged closer. Conway flinched, but the rest of the webbing was

holding it. He felt for the control panel of the litter. "Get it under the

things!" he shouted. "Right under its center of gravity, that's it."

Gradually he increased the repulsion until the litter was pressing firmly

against the underside of the patient, and again until the being's entire weight

was being supported and the webbing was simply holding it against any lateral

movement. He became aware of the voice of Dodds in his phones, asking over and

over again what had happened and were they all right.

"We're all right," Fletcher said angrily. "And you tell us what happened,

Lieutenant. What are your sensors for?"

"An explosion at the site of the damaged hydraulic reservoir, sir," DQdds said,

sounding relieved. "The stuff is highly inflammable as well as toxic, it seems,

and the flare set it off. The explosion broke the back of the ship where it lies

across that rock outcropping, and now the prow is lying on the sand, too.

Amidships and stern sections have been stripped of plating by the explosion and

the wind. The ship looks very open, sir."

The smoke had cleared but fine clouds of sand were blowing through the Control

Deck from somewhere. Fletcher said dryly, "I believe you, Dodds. It is also very

cold. How long until pickup?"

"Just under three hours, sir," Dodds replied. "Sunrise is in two hours and the

wind should have abated an hour later."

The two portable heaters and spare cutting torch had been shaken loose by the

explosion and had fallen into the thorns. One of the heaters was still

functioning but its .effect was severely reduced by the icy, sand-laden wind

sweeping out of the corridor. Conway shivered and clenched his teeth, both to

stop them chattering and in reaction to the indescribable noise of the wind

screaming through the bare bones of the stern section and the irregular,

thunderous din of the remaining plating shaking itself loose. He resiled the

portable lights, which had survived the explosion, so that they were within a

few feet of the litter. They gave a little warmth.

More than an hour was spent completing the transfer of the alien from its cupola

to the litter and securing it in the vehicle. The being, too, was suffering from

the cold—its organic connectors twitched continuously and patterns of wrinkles

marched across its smooth, featureless body. Conway tried to find something to

wrap around it, but all that was available was the control cupola webbing from

its own and the crew's positions. By the time he had finished, the being was

virtually cocooned in the stuff and the few areas of skin visible were still

twitching and wrinkling.

They moved it up to the sealed personnel hatch, hoping that the available heat

would rise and it would be fractionally warmer UP there. The difference, to

Conway, was indetectable. He wondered if it would be possible to rescue the

other heater, but when he looked down he saw that a fresh, uncharred tangle of

thorns had grown in from the corridor and was climbing toward them.

"Doctor," said Fletcher quickly, indicating a large ceiling panel which was held

in position by a single remaining support strut. "Hold onto that while I cut it

free."

They dropped the panel onto the thorns and knotted loose pieces of webbing

together into a rope so that the Captain could lower himself onto its center.

The panel buckled slightly under his weight but the thorns beneath the plate

were forced down by two meters or more. Fletcher kneeled carefully on his

makeshift raft and unlimbered his cutting torch. With,the flame focused down to

a long, thin needle he attacked the thorns all* around him.

After nearly six hours of constant use the power pack was exhausted. When the

flame dimmed and died, Fletcher got carefully to his feet and began flexing and

straightening his legs, bouncing the section of plating up and down. The thorns

were forced lower. He paused for a rest and still the plate continued to sink.

But now the needle-sharp thorns were growing in from the edges of the raft,

slowly submerging it.

The rope of webbing was barely within reach. Fletcher steadied himself, jumped,

and caught the end in a double grip as the plate teetered and disappeared

sideways under the thorns. Conway climbed down as far as he could and pulled the

rope close so that Fletcher could get his feet onto the edge of a projecting

cabinet.

"Did you see the way that thing moved itself from under the plate and surrounded

you, Captain?" Murchison said when they rejoined her. "It's very slow, but do

you think we are hurting a potentially intelligent vegetable life-form?"

"Yes, ma'am," the Captain said with feeling, "but not nearly enough."

"Eighty minutes to go, sir," Dodds said.

They detached the few pieces of wreckage and equipment that could be dislodged

by hand and dropped them onto the thorns, but with little effect. Fletcher and

Conway took turns hacking at the growth with a metal support strut, but still it

grew slowly toward them. Soon there was not enough space to move around freely

or exercise to keep warm, or more

accurately, less cold. They could only huddle close to the personnel hatch,

teeth clenched together to keep from chattering, and watch the thorns creep

closer.

The scene was being relayed to Rhabwar and was causing increasing concern.

Lieutenant Haslam said suddenly, "I can launch now, sir, and—"

"No," the Captain said firmly. "If you touch down before it is safe to do so and

the lander is blown over, nobody here will get out of this mess—"

He broke off because his voice had suddenly sounded very loud.

The wind had died.

"Open up," Fletcher said. "Let's get out of here."

The dark-blue morning sky showed through the opening hatch and a negligible

quantity of sand blew in. They maneuvered the litter and its trussed-up

casualty through the opening and onto the upper surface of the hull.

"The lull may be temporary, sir," Dodds warned. "There are still a few squalls

running through your area."

The rising sun was still hidden behind sand clouds, but there was more than

enough light to see that the surface had been drastically altered overnight by

the shifting of many sand drifts. From midships to stem the wreck was denuded of

plating, but the skeleton had been filled out by a tightly packed tangle of

thorns. The upper surface of the ship forward to the prow was intact, and the

rocky shelf ahead was clear of thorns.

•"One large squall will hit you in about twelve minutes," Dodds added.

They jammed the litter against the open hatch and attached its magnetic grapples

to the hull. Then they secured their suit safety lines to the massive hinge and

threw themselves across the litter, hooking their fingers into the webbing

around the casualty. It was just one more physical indignity for the alien

captain, Conway thought, but by now the being was probably Past caring about

such things.

Abruptly the sky was dark again and the wind and sand tore M them, threatening

to lift them bodily off the hull. Conway desperately gripped the webbing as he

felt the magnetic grap-begin to slide and the litter slue around. He wondered if

the wind would blow him beyond the surrounding

thorns were he to let go his grip and his safety line. But his fingers were

locked in a cramp and he felt that his arms, like those of the alien Captain,

were about to be separated from his torso. Then as suddenly as it had come the

wind died and it was light again.

He saw that Murchison, Fletcher, and the patient were still safely attached to

the litter. But he did not move. It grew brighter and he could feel the sun

warming his side when the sand lashed at them again, accompanied by a

high-pitched, screaming thunder.

"Extrovert!" Murchison yelled.

Conway looked up to see the lander hovering ahead of the ship and blasting sand

in all directions with its thrusters. Haslam touched down on the shelf of rock

which was clear of thorns, barely fifty meters from them.

There were no problems while moving the litter to the other ship, and no

shortage of time to do it even though the thorns were already inching toward it.

Before loading it on board, Conway removed the extra webbing and the makeshift

eye protection from the patient and gave it a thorough examination. In spite of

everything it had gone through it was alive and, in Conway's opinion, very well.

"How about the others, Prilicla?" he asked.

"The temperatures of all of them have come down, friend Conway," the empath

replied. "They are radiating strong feelings of hunger, but not on the level of

distress. Since the food supply on the wreck has been lost, and may have been

contaminated anyway, they will have to wait until the hospital's synthesizers

provide some. Otherwise they are emoting feelings of confusion and loss.

"But they will feel much better," Prilicla added, "when they rejoin their

Captain."

COMBINED OPERATION

They emerged into normal space at a point whose coordinates placed them far out

on the galactic rim and where the brightest object to be seen was a nearby sun

burning coldly against a faint powdering of stars. But as Conway stared through

Control's direct vision port, it became obvious that the emptiness was only

apparent, because suddenly both the radar and long-range sensor displays were

indicating two contacts, very close together and just under two thousand

kilometers distant. For the next few minutes Conway expected to be ignored.

"Control, Power Room," Captain Fletcher said briskly. "I Want maximum thrust in

five minutes. Astrogator, give me the numbers to put us alongside that trace,

and the ETA."

Lieutenants Chen and Dodds, seven decks below and a few feet away respectively,

acknowledged. Then Lieutenant Has-tam, from the Communications position, joined

in.

"Sir," he said without taking his attention from his displays, "the sensor

readings suggest that the larger trace has the mass, ^nfiguration, and antennae

deployment of a scoutship engaged °n survey duty. The other trace is currently

unidentifiable, but relative positions might indicate a recent collision."

"Very well," the Captain said. He touched his transmit stud and, speaking slowly

and distinctly, he went on, "This is the ambulance ship Rhabwar, operating out

of Sector Twelve General Hospital, responding to your distress beacon released

six plus hours ago. We will close with you in—"

"Fifty-three minutes," Dodds supplied.

"—If you are able to communicate, please identify yourselves, specify the

nature of your trouble, and list the type and number of casualties."

In the supernumerary's position Con way leaned forward intently, even though the

difference of a few centimeters could not affect the clarity of any incoming

message. But when the voice did come it sounded apologetic rather than

distressed. .

"The Monitor Corps scoutship Tyrell here, Major Nelson commanding," it said. "It

was our distress beacon, but we released it on behalf of the wreck you see

beside us. Our medical officer isn't sure, you understand, because its medical

experience covers only three species, but it thinks that there may still be life

on board."

"Doctor—" the Captain began, looking across at Conway. But before he could go

on, Haslam was reporting again.

"Sir! Another, no, two more traces. Similar mass and configuration as the

distressed vessel. Also smaller, widely scattered pieces of metallic wreckage."

"That's the other reason why we released our beacon," Nelson's voice sounded

from Tyrell. "We don't have your long-range sensor equipment—our stuff is

chiefly photooptical and computing gear associated with survey work—but this

area seems to be littered with wreckage and, while I don't entirely agree with

my medic that some of it must contain survivors, the possibility does exist

that—"

"You were quite right to call for help, Captain Nelson," Conway said, breaking

in. "We would much rather answer a dozen false alarms than risk missing one

which might mean a rescue. Space accidents being what they are, most distress

calls are answered too late in any case. However, Captain, as a matter of

urgency we need the physiological classification of the wreck's survivors and

the nature and extent of their injuries so that we can begin making preparations

for accommodating and treating them.

"I am Senior Physician Conway," he enaea. may i apvan ;to your medical

officer?"

There was a long, hissing silence during which Haslam reported several more

traces and added that, while the data were far from complete, the distribution

of the wreckage was such that he was fairly certain that the accident had

happened ; to a very large ship which had been blown apart into uniform pieces,

and that the wreckage alongside Tyrell and the -other similar pieces which were

appearing all over his screens were lifeboats. Judging by the spread of the

wreckage so far detected, the disaster had not been a recent occurrence.

Then the speaker came to life again with a flat, emotionless voice, robbed of

all inflection by the process of translation. "I am Surgeon-Lieutenant

Krach-Yul, Doctor Conway," it said. "My knowledge of other-species physiology is

small, since I have had medical experience with only the Earth-human, Ni-dian,

and my own Orligian life-forms, all of which, as you know, fall within the DBDG

warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing

classification."

The fact that the natives of Orligia and their planetary neighbor Nidia had a

marked disparity in physical mass and one of them possessed an overall coat of

tight, curly red fur was too small a difference to affect the four-letter

classification coding, Conway thought as the other doctor was talking. Just like

the small difference which had, in the early days of their stellar exploration,

caused Orligia and Earth to fight the first, brief, and so far only interstellar

war.

For this reason the Orligians and Earth-humans were more than friendly—nowadays

they went out of their way to help each other—and it was a great pity that

Krach-Yul was too professionally inexperienced to be really helpful. All Conway

could hope for was that the Orligian medic had had sense enough to restrain its

professional curiosity and not poke its friendly, furry nose into a situation

which was completely beyond its experience.

"We did not enter the wreck," the Orligian was saying, "because our crew members

are not specialists in alien technology and there was the danger of them

inadvertently contributing to the problem rather than its solution. I

considered telling through die hull and withdrawing a sample of the wreck's

S.G.—7

atmosphere, in the hope that the survivor was a warm-blooded oxygen breather

like ourselves and we could pump in air. But I decided against this course in

case their atmosphere was an exotic mixture which we could not supply and we

would then have reduced their ship's internal pressure to no purpose.

"We are not certain that there is a survivor, Doctor," Krach-Yul went on. "Our

sensors indicate pressure within the wreck, a small power source, and the

presence of what appears to be one large mass of organic material which is

incompletely visible through the viewports. We do not know if it is living."

Conway sighed. Where extraterrestrial physiology and medicine were concerned

this Krach-YuI was uneducated, but it certainly was not unintelligent. He could

imagine the Orligian qualifying on its home planet, moving to the neighboring

world of Nidia, and later joining the Monitor Corps to further increase its e-t

experience and, while treating the minor ills and injuries of an Earth-human

scoutship crew, hoping for something just like this to happen. The Orligian was

probably one great, furry lump of curiosity regarding the organic contents of

the wreck, but it knew its professional limitations. Conway was already

developing a liking for the Orligian medic, sight unseen.

"Very good, Doctor," Conway said warmly. "But I have a request. Your vessel has

a portable airlock. To save time would you mind—"

"It has already been deployed, Doctor," the Orligian broke in, "and attached to

the wreck's hull over the largest entry port we could find. We are assuming it

is an entry port, but it could be a large access panel because we did not try to

open it. The wreck was spinning about its lateral axis and this motion was

checked by Tyrell's tractor-beams, but otherwise the vessel is as we found it."

Conway thanked the other and unstrapped himself from his couch. He could see

several new traces on the radar display, but it was the picture of Tyrell and

the wreck growing visibly larger on the forward screen which was his immediate

concern.

"What are your intentions, Doctor?" the Captain asked.

Indicating the image of the wreck, Conway said, "It doesn't seem to be too badly

damaged and there isn't much sharp metal in sight so, in the interests of a fast

recovery, my people will wear lightweight suits. I shall take Pathologist

Murchison and

Doctor Prilicla. Charge Nurse Naydrad will remain in the Casualty Deck lock

with the litter, ready to pressurize it with the survivors' atmosphere as soon

as Murchison analyzes it. You, sir, will come along to pick the alien airlock?"

Rhabwar was the first of its kind. Designed as a special ambulance ship, it had

the configuration and mass of a Federation light cruiser, which was the largest

type of Monitor Corps vessel capable of aerodynamic maneuver within a planetary

atmosphere. As he pulled himself aft along the gravity-free central well, Conway

was visualizing its gleaming white hull and delta wings decorated with the

Occluded Sun, the Brown Leaf, the Red Cross, and the many other symbols which

represented the concept of aid freely given throughout the worlds of the

Federation.

It was a Traltha-built ship with all the design and structural advantages which

that implied, and named Rhabwar after one of the great figures of Tralthan

medical history. The ship had been designed for operation by an Earth-human

crew, whose quarters were immediately below Control on Deck Two. The medical

team occupied similar accommodation on Three except in the matter of furniture

and bedding for the Kelgian Charge Nurse and reduced artificial gravity for the

Cinrusskin empath.

Deck Four was a compromise, Conway thought as he pulled himself past it, a

combination Messdeck and recreation room where the people who worked together

were expected, regardless of physiological classification, to play

together—even though there was barely enough room to play a game of chess when

everyone was present. The whole of Five was devoted to the ship's consumables,

which comprised not only the food required by six Earth-humans, a Kelgian, and a

Cinrusskin of classifications DBDG, DBLF, and GLNO respectively, but the storage

tanks whose contents were capable of reproducing or synthesizing the atmosphere

breathed by any species known to the Galactic Federation.

Six and Seven, where Conway was headed, were the Casualty Deck and underlying

lab and treatment ward. Here the gravity, atmospheric pressure, and composition

could be varied to suit the life-support requirements of any survivors who might

be brought in. Deck Eight was the Power Room, the province of Lieutenant Chen,

who controlled the ship's hyperdrive gen-

erators and normal space thrusters, the power supply for the artificial gravity

grids, tractor and pressor beams, communications, sensors, and everything which

made the energy-hungry ship live.

Conway was still thinking of the diminuitive Chen and the frightful powers

available at the touch of one of his stubby fingers when he arrived on the

Casualty Deck. He did not have to speak because his earlier conversation with

the Captain had been relayed to Casualty, as were the more interesting and

important displays on Control's screens. There was nothing for him to do except

climb into his spacesuit—he had a very good medical team who kept their

equipment and themselves at instant readiness, and who tried constantly to make

their leader feel redundant.

Murchison was bending and stretching to check the seals of her lightweight

spacesuit, and Naydrad was inside the casualty entrance lock testing a pressure

litter, its beautiful silver fur rippling in slow waves along its

caterpillarlike body as it worked. The incredibly fragile Prilicla, aided by its

gravity nullifiers and a double set of iridescent wings, was hovering close to

the ceiling where it would not be endangered by an accidental collision with one

of its more massive colleagues. Its eight, pipestem legs were twitching slowly

in unison, indicating that it was being exposed to emotional radiation of a

pleasurable kind.

Murchison looked from Prilicla to Conway and said, "Stop that."

Conway knew that it was Murchison, albeit indirectly, and himself who were

responsible for the Cinrusskin's twitchings. Prilicla, like the other members of

its intelligent and sensitive race, possessed a highly developed empathic

faculty which caused it to react to the most minute changes and levels of

feeling in those surrounding it. Pathologist Murchison possessed that

combination of physical attributes which made it extremely difficult for any

Earth-human male DBDG to regard her with anything like clinical detachment—and

while she was Wearing a contour-hugging lightweight suit it was downright

impossible.

"Sorry," Conway said, laughing, and began climbing into his own suit.

The wreck looked like a long section of metal tree trunk with a few short,

twisted branches sprouting from it, Conway thought as they launched themselves

from Rhabwar's casualty lock toward the distressed alien ship, but apart from

those pieces of projecting metal the vessel seemed to have retained its

structural integrity. He could see two small viewports reflecting the ambulance

ship's floodlights like two tiny suns. One of the ports was set about two meters

back from the bows of the wreck and the other a similar distance from the stern,

although it was impossible to say just then which was which, and he had learned

that there were another two viewports in identical positions on the side hidden

from him.

He could also see the loose, transparent folds of Tyrell's portable airlock

clinging to the hull like a wrinkled limpet and, beside it, the tiny figure of

what could only be the scoutship's Orligian medic, Krach-Yul.

Fletcher, Mufchison, and Conway landed beside the Orligian. They did not speak

and they tried hard not to think so that Prilicla, who was slowly circling the

distressed vessel, would be able to feel for survivors with the minimum of

emotional interference. If anything lived inside that wreck, no matter how

faintly the spark of life glowed, the little empath would detect it.

"This is very strange, friend Conway," said Prilicla after nearly fifteen

minutes had passed and they were all radiating feelings of impatience in spite

of themselves. "There is life on board, one source only, and the emotional

radiation is so very faint that I cannot locate it with accuracy. And contrary

to what I would expect in these circumstances, there are no indications that the

survivor is in a distressed condition."

"Could the survivor be an infant?" Krach-Yul asked, "Left in a safe place by

adults who perished, and too young to realize that there is danger?"

Prilicla, who never disagreed with anyone because to do so might give rise to

unpleasant emotional radiation from the other party, said, "The possibility

cannot be dismissed, friend Krach-Yul."

"An embryo, then," Murchison said, "who still lives within its dead parent?"

"That is not impossible, either, friend Murchison," Prilicla replied.

"Which means," the Pathologist said, laughing, "that you don't think much of

that idea, either."

"But there is a survivor," the Captain said impatiently, "so let's go in and get

it out."

Fletcher wriggled through the double seal of the portable airlock and under the

folds of tough, transparent plastic which, when inflated, would form a chamber

large enough for them to work at extricating the survivor and, if necessary,

provide emergency treatment. Murchison and Conway, meanwhile, spenf several

minutes at each of the tiny viewports, which were so deeply recessed that their

helmet lights showed only areas of featureless leathery tegument.

When they joined the Captain in the lock, Fletcher said, "There are only so many

ways of opening a door. It can hinge inward or outward, unscrew in either

direction, slide open, or dilate. The actuator for this one appears to be a

simple recessed lever which—Oh!"

The large metal hatch was swinging open. Conway tensed, waiting to feel the

outward rush of the ship's air tugging at his suit and inflating the portable

lock, but nothing else happened. The Captain grasped the edge with both hands,

detached his foot magnets so that his legs swung away from the hull, and drew

his head deep inside the opening. "This isn't an airlock but a simple access

hatch to mechanisms and systems situated between the inner and outer hulls. I

can see cable runs, plumbing, and what looks like a—"

"I need an air sample," Murchison said, "quickly." "Sorry, ma'am," Fletcher

said. He let go with one hand and pointed carefully, then went on, "It seems

obvious that only the inner hull is airtight. It should be safe enough for you

if you site your drill in the angle between that support bracket and cable loom

just there. I don't know how efficient their insulation is, but that cable is

too thin to carry much power. The color coding suggests that their visual range

is similar to ours, wouldn't you say?"

"I would," Murchison agreed.

Conway said quickly, "If you use a Five drill it will be wide enough to take an

Eye."

"I intend doing that," she said dryly.

The drill whirred briefly, the sound conducted through the metal of the hull and

the fabric of Conway's suit, and a sample of the ship's atmosphere hissed

through the hollow drill-head and into the analyzer.

"The pressure is a little low by our standards," she reported quietly, "but that

could be dangerously low or normal so far as the survivor is concerned.

Composition, the proportion of oxygen to inert gases, makes it a warm-blooded,

oxygen-breathing life-form. I shall now insert the Eye."

Conway saw her detach the analyzer from the hollow drill and, so expertly that

she could not have lost more than a few cubic centimeters of ship's atmosphere

in the process, replace it with the Eye. Very carefully she threaded in the

transparent tube containing the lens, light source, and vision recorder through

the hollow center of the drill, then attached the eyepiece and magnifier which_

would enable her to use the instrument while wearing a space helmet.

For what seemed like an hour but was probably only ten minutes she swiveled the

lens and varied the light intensity, without speaking. Then she wriggled

backward out of the opening to give Conway and the others a look.

"It's big," she said.

The interior of the wreck was a hollow cylinder completely free of compartment

dividers or structural crossmembers and the floor—Conway was assuming it was the

floor because it was flat and ran the length of the ship—had a double line of

closely spaced holes three or four inches in diameter running down the middle.

Seven or eight pairs of the survivor's feet disappeared into the holes so they

were probably part of the vessel's system of safety restraints, as were the

broad bands of torn webbing which floated loosely about its body.

The Eye was positioned close to floor level so that Conway could see the being's

flank along the section whose feet were held in the deck holes. Farther along,

where the feet had been pulled free by the force of the accident to its ship, he

could see in detail the double line of stubby, centipedal legs and the pale-gray

underside. In the opposite direction—he could not

tell whether it was toward the being's head or tail—he could make out part of

the upper surface of the creature and a single line of dorsal tentacular

appendages. The long, cylindrical compartment did not give the being much room

to maneuver arid the twists and curves of the weightless, flaccid body seriously

hampered viewing, but at the limit of his vision Conway could just make out

three lengths of tubing, pencil thin, transparent, and apparently flexible,

which sprouted from a container attached to the wall to disappear into the body

of the survivor.

Despite the multiplicity of the being's arms and legs there seemed to be very

little if anything for it to do. Apart from a large number of wall-mounted

storage cabinets, the interior of the ship was bare of anything resembling

control and indication systems or any obvious means by which the vessel could be

guided by its occupant—unless, of course, there was a small control center

forward in the area concealed by the survivor's body.

Conway must have been thinking aloud because the Captain, who had just returned

from an external examination of the ship, said seriously, "There is nothing for

it to do, Doctor. Except for a very unsophisticated power cell which, at

present, is not being used to power anything, there is nothing. No propulsion

unit, no attitude control jets, no recognizable external sensors or

communications, no personnel lock. I'm beginning to wonder if this is a ship or

some kind of survival pod. This would explain the odd configuration of the

vessel, which is a cylinder of constant diameter with a perfectly flat face at

each end. However, when I sighted along the hull in an effort to detect minor

protrusions which could have housed sensor equipment, I observed that the

cylinder was very slightly curved along its longitudinal axis. This opens up

another possibility which—"

"What about power sources and comm equipment mounted outboard?" Conway broke in

before the Captain's observations could develop into a lecture on ship design

philosophy. "We have matched hyperdrive generators on our wingtips and perhaps

these people had a similar idea."

"No, Doctor," Fletcher said in the cool, formal tone he used when he thought

someone was trying to tell him his business. "I examined those external spars,

which have been broken off too short to give any indication of the type of

structure they

supported, but the wiring still attached to them is much too thin to carry power

to a hyperspace generator. In fact, I seriously doubt if these people had

either hyperdrive or artificial gravity, and the general level of technology

displayed is pretty elementary for a star-traveling race. Then there is the

apparent absence of an entry port. An airlock for this beastie would have to be

almost as long as the vessel itself."

"There are a few star-traveling species who do not use them," Conway said. "For

purely physiological reasons they do not indulge in extravehicular activity,

entering and leaving their ships only at time of departure and arrival."

"Suppose," Murchison said, "this vehicle is the being's spacesuit."

"A nice idea, ma'am, but no," Fletcher said apologetically. "Apart from the four

viewports, whose angles of vision are severely limited because of their small

size and the space between the outer and inner hulls, there is no sensory input

of any kind known to me and, more important, no external manipulators. But

there must be some easy way of getting that beastie into and out of that thing,

whether it is a ship, a survival pod, or something else."

There was a long silence, then Conway said, "I'm sorry, Captain. A few minutes

ago you were about to mention a third possibility when I interrupted you."

"I was," Fletcher said in the tone of one graciously receiving an apology. "But

you will understand, Doctor, that the theory is based on my initial visual

observation only and not, as yet, supported by accurate measurements.

Nevertheless, as I have already stated, this vessel is not a true cylinder but

appears to be curved slightly along its longitudinal axis.

"Now, an explosion or collision sufficiently violent to warp the cylinder out of

true," he went on, slipping into his lecturing manner, "would buckle and open up

seams in the hull plating, and leave evidence of heat discoloration and

indentations from flying debris. There are no such indications. So if the

longitudinal axis of the vessel is, in fact, a very flat curve rather than a

straight line, then the curvature was deliberate, built in. This would explain

the lack of power and control linkages and an artificial gravity system because

they used—"

"Of course!" Conway broke in. "The hull beneath the flat

deck was outward facing and free of structural projections, which means that

they got their gravity the old-fashioned way by-"

"Will one of you," Murchison said crossly, "kindly tell me what you are talking

about?"

"Certainly," Conway said. "The Captain has convinced me that this structure is

not a ship or a lifeboat, but a section of a space station, an early Wheeltype

of very large diameter, which suffered a collision."

"A space station away out here?" Murchison sounded incredulous. Then she began

to realize the implications and added feelingly, "In that case we could have an

awful lot of work ahead of us."

"Maybe not, ma'am," Fletcher said. "Admittedly there is a strong possibility of

finding many more space station segments, but the survivors may be very few."

His tone became suddenly forceful. "Transferring that creature to our Casualty

Deck is out of the question. Instead I suggest we attach it to our hull, extend

Rhabwar's hyperspace envelope accordingly, and whisk it back to Sector General

where their airlocks can easily handle a patient extraction problem of this

size. I am not the e-t medical specialist, of course, but I think we should do

this at once, leaving Tyrell to search for other survivors, and then return as

soon as possible for the others." "No," Conway said firmly.

"I don't understand you, Doctor." Behind his helmet visor Fletcher's face had

gone red.

Conway ignored him for a moment while he addressed Murchison and Prilicla, who

had drifted closer in spite of the strong emotional radiation being generated in

the area. He said, "The survivor, so far as we are able to see, is linked to

what appears to be some kind of life-support system by three separate sets of

tubing. It is deeply unconscious but not physically distressed. There is also

the fact that its vessel contains a reservoir of power which is not presently

being used. Now, would either of you agree that the observed emotional radiation

and apparent lack of physical injury could be the result of it being in a

hibernation anesthesia condition?"

Before either of them could reply, Conway added, "Since there is no evidence of

the presence of the power-hungry,

complex refrigeration systems which we associate with suspended animation

techniques, just three sets of tubing entering its body, would you also agree

that the life-form is a natural hibernator?"

There was a short silence, then Murchison said, "We are familiar with the idea

of long-term suspended animation being associated with star travel—that used to

be the only way to do it, after all, and the cold-sleeping travelers would

require neither air nor food during their trips. In the case of a life-form with

the ability to go periodically into a state of hibernation for planetary

environmental reasons, a minimal supply of food and air would be required. It is

quite possible that the natural process of hibernation could be artificially

initiated, extended, and counteracted by specific medication and the food

supplied intravenously, as seems to be the case with our friend here."

"Friend Conway," Prilicla said, "the survivor's emotional radiation pattern

agrees in every particular with the hypothesis of hibernation anesthesia." •

Captain Fletcher was not slow on the uptake. He said, "Very well, Doctor. The

survivor has been in this condition for a very long time, so there is no great

urgency about moving it or the other survivors we might find to the hospital.

But what are your immediate intentions?"

Conway was aware of a multiple, purely subjective silence as the party on the

alien's hull and the communications officers who were listening in on Rhabwar

and Tyrell held their collective breath. He cleared his throat and said, "We

will examine this section of space station, if that is what it is, as closely as

possible without entering it, and simultaneously make as detailed a visual

examination of the survivor as we can using the Eye, and then we will all try to

think."

He had the feeling, very strong and not at all pleasant to judge by the

trembling of Prilicla's spidery limbs, that this was not going to be an easy

rescue.

For a little over three hours, the duration remaining to their lightweight

suits, they did nothing but think as they examined the exterior of the wreck and

what little they could see of its occupant, slowly adding data which might or

might not be important. But they thought as individuals, increasingly baffled

individuals, so that it was not until they met on Rhabwar's Messdeck and

recreation level that they were able to think as an equally baffled group.

Tyrett was represented by its Captain, Major Nelson, .and Surgeon-Lieutenant

Krach-Yul, while Major Fletcher and the astrogation officer, Lieutenant Dodds,

furnished the required military balance for Rhabwar. Murchison, Prilicla,

Naydrad, and Conway—who were, after all, mere civilians—filled the remainder of

the deck space with the exception of the empath, who was clinging to the safety

of the ceiling.

It was Prilicla, knowing that nobody else felt ready to contribute any useful

ideas, who spoke first.

"I feel that we are all agreed," it said in the musical trills and clicks of the

Cinrusskin tongue, which emanated from their translator packs as faultless if

somewhat toneless speech in the languages of Kelgia, Orligia, and Earth, "that

the being is in a state of suspended animation, that there is a high probability

that it is not a patient but a survivor who should be returned to its home world

as soon as convenient if this planet can be found, and that the need to move it

is not an urgent one."

Lieutenant Dodds looked at Fletcher for permission to speak, then said, "It

depends on what you mean by urgent, Doctor. I ran a vectors and velocities check

on this and the other pieces of wreckage within detector range. These bits of

alien vessel or space station occupied roughly the same volume of space

approximately eighty-seven years ago, which is when the disaster must have

occurred. If it was a ship I don't think it was heading for the nearby sun since

there are no planets, but a lot of the dispersed wreckage will either fall into

the sun or pass closely enough to make no difference to any other survivors in

hibernation. This will begin to occur in just over eleven weeks."

They digested that for a moment, then Tyrell's Captain said, "I still say a

space station way out here is impossible, especially one traveling at such a

clip that its wreckage will reach the sun, there, in eleven weeks. It is far

more likely that the survivor is in a lifeboat with suspended animation

extending the duration of its consumables."

Fletcher glared at his fellow captain, then he noticed Prilicla beginning to

tremble. He visibly calmed himself as he said,

ono i un

"It is not impossible, Major Nelson, although it is unlikely. Let us suppose

that the survivor's race, which is at the interplanetary flight level of

technology, was beginning to experiment with hyperspace generation on its space

station and inadvertently performed a random Jump and found themselves very far

indeed from home, and subsequently went into hibernation for the reason you

have stated. Many such accidents have occurred during early experiments with

hypertravel. In any case, I think we are drawing too many conclusions from what

is, after all, only one small piece of a very large jigsaw."

Conway decided to join in before this spirited exchange of technical views could

devolve into a quarrel. He said placat-ingly, "But what conclusions, however few

and tentative, can we draw from the piece you have examined, Captain? And what,

however vaguely, can you see of the complete picture?"

"Very well," said Fletcher. He quickly inserted his vision spool from the wreck

into the Recreation Deck's display unit and began to describe everything he had

observed and deduced during his examination of the distressed vessel, which he

preferred to think of as a simple, pressurized container rather than a ship. It

was a cylinder just over twenty meters in length and approximately three meters

in diameter, with ends which were flat except for a, set of eight couplings

which would enable it to be connected at either end to other similar containers.

The couplings had been designed to break open before any external shock or force

applied to adjacent structures could damage or deform the container. If the

dimensions of the other containers or space station sections were the same as

the one examined, and if the longitudinal curvature was uniform in all of them,

then approximately eighty of these sections would form a Wheel just under five

hundred meters in diameter.

He paused, but Major Nelson still had his lips pressed tightly together, and the

others, knowing that a reaction was expected of them, kept perversely silent.

The section had a double hull with only the inner one pressurized, Fletcher

resumed, but it possessed no control, sensor, or power systems other than those

associated with the suspended animation equipment. The level of technology

displayed was advanced interplanetary rather than interstellar, so the station

had no business being where it was in the first place.

But the most puzzling feature of the container was the method used to enter and

leave it.

They had already seen that there were no openings on the hull large enough to

allow entry or exit by the survivor, which meant that it had to enter and leave

via the flat, circular plate at each end of the cylinder. In Fletcher's opinion

the creature went in one end and came out the other because physically it was

too massive to turn itself around inside its container. But there was nothing

resembling a door at either end of the cylinder, just the two large circular

plates whose edges were set inside the thick rims which supported the couplings.

"So far as I can see there is no operating mechanism for these endplates,"

Fletcher went on with the hint of an apology creeping into his tone. "There are

only so many ways for a door to open, and there has to be a door into and out of

that thing, but I can't find one. I even considered explosive bolts, with the

extraterrestrial sealed in until it arrived or was taken by its rescuers to an

environmentally suitable position—either a planet or the hold of a rescue

ship—whereupon it would blow the hatch fastenings and crawl out. But there are

no hatch fastenings that I can see and the rim structure surrounding the

hatches, if that is what they are, would not allow them to be blown open.

Neither can they be opened inward because the diameter of the inner, pressurized

hull is much smaller than that of the endplates."

Fletcher shook his head in bafflement and ended, "I'm sorry, Doctor. Right now I

can see no way for you to get to your survivor without cutting its ship apart.

What I need is another piece of this jigsaw puzzle to examine, a broken piece

which will let me see how the other undamaged pieces were put together."

There was silence for a few seconds, during which Prilicla trembled in sympathy

with the Captain's embarrassment, then Murchison spoke.

"I would like to examine a broken piece as well," she said quietly.

"Specifically, a piece containing a nonsurvivor which would let me see how our

survivor is put together."

Con way turned to Dodds. "Are there many pieces which look as if they had been

broken up?"

"A few," replied the astrogator. "Most of the traces give

sensor readings similar to the first piece. That is, a vehicle of similar mass

retaining internal pressure and containing a small power source. All of the

pieces, including the few damaged ones, are at extreme sensor range. It is a

long way to go on impulse drive, but if we jumped through hyperspace we would

probably overshoot."

"How many pieces altogether?" asked Nelson.

"Twenty-three solid traces so far," said Dodds, "plus a few masses of what

appears to be loose, structural debris. There is also one largish mass,

unpressurized and radioactive, which I'd guess was part of a power center."

From its position on the ceiling, Prilicla said, "If I might make a suggestion,

and if Major Nelson is willing to interrupt his survey mission... ?"

Nelson laughed suddenly and the other Corps officers present smiled. With great

feeling he went on, "There isn't a scout-ship crew on survey duty anywhere in

the Galaxy who would not rather be doing something, anything, else! You only

have to ask and give me half an excuse for accepting, Doctor."

"Thank you, friend Nelson," said the empath with a slow tremor of pleasure. "My

suggestion is that Rhabwar and Tyrell act independently to seek out other

survivors and return them to this area, using tractor beams if the distance is

short enough for impulse drive or by extending the hyperspace envelopes to

include them if a Jump is necessary. My empathic faculty enables me to identify

sections containing living occupants and, because of the large mass of these

beings, Doctor Krach-Yul and Nurse Naydrad should accompany me to assist with

treatment, should this be possible. Pathologist Murchison and you, friend

Conway, are well able to identify living casualties by more orthodox means if

the ship's sensors are uncertain.

"This will halve the time needed to search for other survivors," Prilicla ended

apologetically, "even though the period will still be a lengthy one."

Tyrell's medical officer spoke for the first time, its whining and barking

speech translating as "1 always assumed that a space rescue by ambulance ship

would be a fast, dramatic, and decisive operation. This one appears to be

disappointingly slow."

"1 agree, Doctor," said Conway. "We need help if this job is not to take months

instead of a few days. Not one scoutship

but a flotilla, or better yet a squadron of them to search the entire—"

Captain Nelson began to laugh, then broke off when he saw that Conway was

serious. He said, "Doctor, I'm just a major in the Monitor Corps and so is

Captain Fletcher. We haven't got the rank to whistle up a flotilla of scoutships

no matter how much you think we need them. All we can do is explain the

situation and put in a very humble request."

Fletcher looked at his fellow Captain and opened his mouth to speak, then

changed his mind.

Conway smiled and said, "I am a civilian, Captain, with no rank at all. Or

considered in another way, I, as a specialist member of the public, have

ultimate authority over people like yourselves who are public servants—"

Clearing his throat noisily, Fletcher said, "Please spare us the political

philosophy, Doctor. Do you wish me to get off a subspace signal to Sector base

requesting massive assistance because of a large number of widely scattered

potential survivors of a hitherto unknown life-form?"

"That's it," said Conway. "And would you also take charge of assigning search

areas to the scoutships if and when they arrive? In the meantime we'll do as

Prilicla suggests, except that Murchison and I will go in Tyrell, if that is

agreeable to you, Captain."

"A pleasure," said Nelson, looking at Murchison.

"Because your crew aren't used to our fragile friend scampering about on their

ceilings and there might be an accident," he continued. "But right now we'll

need help to transfer some of our portable equipment to your ship."

While their gear was being moved to the scoutship and Conway was trying hard to

keep Murchison from transferring the Casualty Deck's diagnostic and treatment

equipment in toto, Tyrell's portable airlock was detached from the alien vessel

and restowed on board in case it would be needed on one of the other widely

scattered sections. Several times as they worked, Rhabwar's lighting and gravity

control fluctuated in momentary overload, indicating that Conway's subspace

signal was going out.

He knew that Fletcher was keeping the signal as brief as possible because the

power required to punch a message through

the highly theoretical medium of subspace from a vessel of Rhabwar's relatively

small size would have Lieutenant Chen in the Power Room chewing his nails. Even

so, that signal would be splattered with interstellar static and have audible

holes blown through it by every intervening cloud of ionized gas, star, or

quasistellar object, and for that reason the message had been speeded up many

times and repeated so that the people at the receiving end would be able to

piece together a normal-speed coherent message from the jumble reaching them.

But their response to the signal was an entirely different matter, Conway

thought worriedly. Despite his seeming confidence before the others, he did not

know what would happen because this was the first time he had made such a

request.

Nelson had invited Murchison and Conway to Control so that they could observe

Tyrell's approach to the second section of alien space station to be

investigated, and so that his crew could observe the pathologist. Since the

subspace signal had gone out six hours earlier, the Captain had been regarding

Conway with a mixture of anxiety and awe as if he did not know whether the

Doctor was seriously self-deluded or a highly potent individual indeed.

The messages which erupted from his Control Room speaker shortly afterward, and

which continued with only a few minutes' break between them for the best part

of the next hour, resolved his doubts but left him feeling even more confused.

"Scoutship Tedlin to Rhabwar. Instructions please."

"Scoutship Tenelphi to Rhabwar, requesting reassignment instructions."

"Scoutship Torrance, acting flotilla leader. I have seven units and eighteen

more to follow presently. You have work for us, RhabwarT'

Finally Nelson muted the speaker and the sound of Captain Fletcher assigning

search areas to the newly arrived scoutships, which were being ordered to search

for sections of the alien space station and bring them to the vicinity of

Rhabwar. With so much help available, Fletcher had decided that the ambulance

ship would not itself join in the search but would instead remain by the first

section to coordinate the operation and give medical assistance. Confident that

the situation was under con-

trol, Conway relaxed and turned to face Captain Nelson, whose curiosity had

become an almost palpable thing.

"You—you are just a doctor, Doctor?" he said.

"That's right, Captain," Murchison said before Conway could reply. She laughed

and went on, "And stop looking at him like that, you'll give him an inflated

sense of his own importance."

"My colleagues are constantly on guard against the possibility of that

happening," Conway said dryly. "But Pathologist Murchison is right. I am not

important, nor are any of the Monitor Corps officers or the medical team on

Rhabwar. It is our job which is important enough to command the reassignment of

a few flotillas of scoutships to assist."

"But it requires the rank of subfleet Commander or highej to order such a

thing—" Nelson began, and broke off as Con-way shook his head.

"To explain it I must first fill in some background, Captain," he said. "Some of

this information is common knowledge. Much of it is not because the relevant

decisions of the Federation Council and their effects on Monitor Corps

operational priorities are too recent for it to have filtered down to you. And

you'll excuse me, I hope, if some of it is elementary, especially to a scoutship

Captain on a survey mission..."

Only a tiny fraction of the Galaxy had been explored by the Earth-humans or by

any of the sixty-odd other races who made up the Galactic Federation, so that

the member races were in the peculiar position of people who had friends in far

countries but had no idea who was living in the next street. The reason for this

was that travelers tended to meet each other more often than the people who

stayed at home, especially when the travelers exchanged addresses and visited

each other regularly.

Visiting was comparatively easy. Providing there were no major distorting

influences on the way and the exact coordinates of the destination were known,

it was almost as easy to travel through hyperspace to a neighboring solar system

as to one at the other side of the galaxy. But first one had to find a system

containing a planet with intelligent life before its coordinates could be

logged, and finding new inhabited systems was proving to be no easy task.

Very, very slowly a few of the blank areas in the star maps were being surveyed

and explored, but with little success. When

:

survey scoutship like Tyrell turned up a star with planets it was a rare find,

even rarer if one of the planets harbored life. And if one of these life-forms

was intelligent then jubilation, not unmixed with concern over what might

possibly be a future threat to the Pax Galactica, swept the worlds of the

Federation, and the cultural contact specialists of the Monitor Corps were

assigned the tricky, time-consuming, and often dangerous job of establishing

contact in depth.

The cultural contact people were the elite of the Monitor Corps, a small group

of specialists in extraterrestrial communications, philosophy, and psychology.

Although small, the group was not, regrettably, overworked.

"During the past twenty years," Conway went on, "they have initiated

first-contact procedure on three occasions, all of which were successful and

resulted in the species concerned joining the Federation. There is no need to

bore you with such details as the fantastically large number of survey missions

mounted, the ships, personnel, and material involved, or shock you with the cost

of it all. I mention the cultural contact group's three successes simply to make

the point that within the same period Sector Twelve General Hospital, our first

multienviron-ment medical treatment center, became fully operational and

initiated first contacts which resulted in seven new species joining the

Federation.

"This was accomplished," he explained, "not by a slow, patient buildup and

widening of communications until the exchange of complex philosophical and

sociological concepts became possible, but by giving medical assistance to a

sick alien."

This was something of an oversimplification, Conway admitted. There were the

medical and surgical problems inherent in treating a hitherto unknown life-form.

Sector General's translation computer, the second largest in the Federation,

was available, as was the assistance of the Monitor Corps' hospital-based

communications specialists, and the Corps had been responsible for rescuing and

bringing in many of the extraterrestrial casualties in the first place. But the

fact remained that the hospital, by giving medical assistance, demonstrated the

Federation's goodwill toward e-ts much more simply and directly than could have

been done by any time-consuming exchange of concepts.

Because all Federation ships were required to file course and passenger or crew

details before departure, the position of a distress signal was usually a good

indication of the ship and therefore the physiological classification of the

beings who had run into trouble, and an ambulance ship with matching crew and

life-support equipment was sent from Sector General or from the ship's home

planet to assist it. But there had been instances, far more than was generally

realized, when the disasters involved beings unknown to the Federation in

urgent need of help, help which the would-be rescuers were powerless to give.

Only when the rescue ship concerned had the capability of extending its

hyperspace envelope to include the distressed vessel, or the survivors could be

extricated safely and a suitable environment provided for them within the

Federation ship, could they be transported to Sector General for treatment. The

result was that many hitherto unknown life-forms, entities of high intelligence

and advanced technology, were lost except as interesting specimens for

dissection and study.

But an answer to this problem had been sought and, hopefully, found.

"It was decided to build and equip a very special ambulance ship," Conway

continued, "which would give priority to answering distress signals whose

positions did not agree with the flight plans filed by Federation vessels. The

First Contact people consider Rhabwar to be the near-perfect answer in that we

involve ourselves only with star^traveling species, beings who are expecting to

encounter new and to them alien life-forms and who, should they get into

trouble, would not be expected to display serious xenophobic reactions when we

try to help them. Another reason why the cultural contact people prefer meeting

star travelers to planetbound species is that they can never be sure whether

they are helping or hindering the newly discovered culture's natural

development, giving them a technological leg up or a crushing inferiority

complex.

"Anyway," Conway said, smiling as he pointed at Nelson's main display where the

newly arrived scoutships covered the screen, "now you know that it is Rhabwar

which has the rank and not any member of its crew."

Nelson was looking only slightly less impressed, but before

he could speak the voices of two scoutship commanders reporting to Rhabwar

sounded in quick succession. Both vessels had emerged from hyperspace close to

sections of alien space station and were already returning to the rendezvous

point with them in tow on long-focus tractor beams. In both cases the sections

gave sensor indications of life on board.

"The news isn't all good, however," Nelson said, pointing at his main display

where an enlarged picture of the section toward which they were heading filled

the screen. "That one has taken a beating and I don't see how the occupant could

have survived."

Conway nodded, and as the wrecked section turned slowly to present an end view,

Murchison added, "Obviously it didn't."

The, alien cylinder had been dented and punctured by multiple collisions with

some of the structural members which had furnished the supporting framework of

the original space station and which was still drifting nearby. Amid the loose

tangle of debris was one of the section's circular endplates, and from the open

end of .the compartment the body of its occupant protruded like an enormous,

dessicated caterpillar.

"Can you relay ihis picture to RhabwarT Conway asked.

"If I can get a word in edgewise," Nelson replied, glancing at his speaker,

which was carrying a continuous, muted conversation between, Fletcher and the

scoutships.

Murchison had been staring intently at the screen. She said suddenly, "It would

be a waste of time examining that cadaver out here. Can you put a tractor on it,

Captain, and take us back to RhabwarT

"We'll need to bring back the wreck for study as well," Conway said. "The

life-support and suspended animation systems will give us important information

on the being's physiology and—"

"Excuse me, Doctor," Nelson said. For several seconds the voices from Rhabwar

and the scoutships had been silent and the Captain had seized the chance to send

a message of his own. He went on, "Tyrell here. Will you accept a visual relay,

Rhabwarl Doctor Conway thinks it's important."

"Go ahead, Tyrell" Fletcher's voice said. "All other traffic wait out."

There was a long silence while Rhabwar's Captain studied

ii I C

the image of the slowly rotating wreck and the attached cadaver, long enough

,for it to make three complete revolutions, then Fletcher spoke. The tone and

words were so uncharacteristic that they scarcely recognized his voice. "I'm a

fool, a stupid damned fool for not seeing it!"

It was Murchison who asked the obvious question. "For not seeing how that

endplate opened," Fletcher replied. He made several more self-derogatory remarks

in an undertone, then went on, "It drops out, or there is probably a

spring-loaded actuator which pushes it out through the slot which you can see

behind the coupling collar. No doubt there is an internal air pressure sensor

linked to the actuator to keep the endplate from popping out accidentally when

the section is in space or the adjoining section is airless. Do you intend

returning with this section and not just the cadaver?"

The tone of the question suggested that if such was not the Doctor's intention,

then forceful arguments would be forthcoming to make him change his mind.

"As quickly as possible," Conway said dryly. "Pathologist Murchison is just as

keen to look inside that alien as you are to look inside its ship. Please ask

Naydrad to stand by the Casualty Lock."

"Will do," Fletcher said. He paused for a moment, then went on seriously, "You

realize, Doctor, that the manner in which these cylinders open means that their

occupants were sealed into their suspended animation compartments while in

atmosphere, almost certainly on their home planet, and the cylinders were not

meant to be opened until their arrival on the target world. These people are

members of a-sublight colonization attempt."

"Yes," Conway said absently. He was thinking about the probable reaction of the

hospital to receiving a bunch of outsize, hibernating e-ts who were not,

strictly speaking, patients but the survivors of a failed colonization flight.

Sector General was a hospital, not a refugee camp. It would insist, and rightly,

that the colonists be transferred either to their planet of origin or

destination. Since the surviving colonists were in no immediate danger there

might be no need to involve the hospital at all — or the ambulance ship — except

in an advisory capacity. He added, "We are going to need more help."

"Yes," Fletcher said with great feeling. It was obvious that his thinking had

been parallelling Conway's. "Rhabwar out."

By the time Tyrell had returned to the assembly area, it was beginning to look

congested. Twenty-eight hibernation compartments—all of which, according to

Prilicla, contained living e-ts—hung in the darkness like a gigantic,

three-dimensional picture showing the agglutinization of a strain of rod-shaped

bacilli. Each section had been numbered for later identification and

examination. There were no other scoutships in the area because they were busy

retrieving more cylinders.

Even with the Casualty Deck's artificial gravity switched off and tractor beams

aiding the transfer, it took Murchison, Naydrad, and Conway more than an hour to

extricate the cadaver from its wrecked compartment and bring it into Rhabwar.

Once inside it flowed over the examination table on each side and on to

intrument trolleys, beds, and whatever else could be found around the room to

support its massive, coiling body.

Fletcher paid them a visit some hours later to see the cadaver at close range,

but he had chosen a moment when Murchison's investigation was moving from the

visual examination to the dissection stage and his stay was brief. As he was

leaving he said, "When you can be spared here, Doctor, would you mind coming up

to Control?"

Conway nodded without looking up from his scanner examination of one of the

alien's breathing orifices and its tracheal connection. The Captain had left

when he straightened up a few minutes later and said, "I just can't make head or

tail of this thing."

"That is understandable, Doctor," Naydrad said, who belonged to a very

literal-minded species. "The being appears to have neither."

Murchison looked up from her microscopic examination of a length of nerve

ganglia and rubbed her eyes. She said, "Naydrad is quite right. Both head and

tail sections are absent and may have been surgically removed, although I cannot

be certain of that even though there are indications of minor surgery having

taken place at one extremity. All that we know for sure is that it is a

warm-blooded oxygen breather and probably an adult. I say 'probably' despite the

fact that the creature in the first cylinder was relatively more massive.

Genetic factors gen-

vvni i c

erally make for size differences among the adults of most species, so I cannot

assume that it is an adolescent or younger. Of one thing I am sure—Thornnastor

is going to enjoy itself with this one."

"So are you," Conway said.

She smiled tiredly and went on, "I don't wish to give the impression that you

are not helping, Doctor. You are. But I had the distinct feeling back there that

the Captain was just being polite, and he wants to see you very urgently."

Prilicla, who had been resting on the ceiling between trips outside to monitor

the emotional radiation of newly arrived survivors, made trilling and clicking

noises which translated as "For a nonempath, friend Murchison, your feeling was

re^ markably accurate."

When Conway entered Control a few mintues later, both captains were present and

they looked relieved to see him. It was Nelson who spoke first.

"Doctor," he said quickly, "I think this rescue mission is getting out of hand.

So far thirty-eight contacts have been made and the sensors report the presence

of life on all but two of them, and more cylinders are being reported every few

minutes. They are all uniform in size and the present indications are that there

are many more sections out there than would be necessary to complete one Wheel."

"If, for technical or physiological reasons, the alien vessel had to have the

configuration of a Wheel," Conway said thoughtfully, "then it could have been

built, as were some of our early space stations, in a series of concentric

circles, as wheels within wheels."

Nelson shook his head. "The longitudinal curvature on all sections is identical.

Could there have been two Wheels, separate but identical vessels, which were in

collision?"

"I disagree with the collision theory," Fletcher said, joining in for the first

time. "At least between two or more Wheels. There are far too many survivors and

undamaged sections for that. Their vessel seems to have fallen apart. I think

there was a high-velocity collision with a natural body, the shock of which

shook the hub and central support structure apart."

Conway was trying to visualize the finished shape of this

alien jigsaw puzzle. He said, "But you still think there was more than one

Wheel?"

"Not exactly," Fletcher replied. "Two of them mounted side by side, with a

different alien or set of aliens in each. Right now we don't know whether we are

retrieving single aliens who have been surgically modified for travel or pieces

of much larger creatures, and we won't know how many we are dealing with until

the scoutships begin bringing back heads and tails. I'm assuming that all of the

occupants were in suspended animation and their ship ran itself, accelerating

or decelerating along its vertical axis. If I'm right then the hub wreckage

should contain the remains of just one propulsion unit and one section which

contained the automatic navigation and sensor equipment."

Conway nodded. "A neat theory, Captain. Is it possible to prove it?"

Fletcher smiled and said, "All of the pieces are out there, even though some of

them will be smashed into their component parts and difficult to identify, but

given time and the necessary assistance we could fit them together."

"You mean reconstruct it?"

"Perhaps," Fletcher replied in an oddly neutral tone. "But is it really any of

our business?"

Conway opened his mouth, intending to tell the other exactly what he thought of

a damn fool question like that, then closed it again when he saw the expressions

on both captains' faces.

For the truth was that the situation which was developing here was no longer any

of their business. Rhabwar was an ambulance ship, designed and provisioned for

short-duration missions aimed at the rescue, emergency treatment, and transfer

to the hospital of survivors of accident or disease in space. But these

survivors did not require treatment or fast transport to the hospital. They had

been in suspended animation for a long time and would be capable of remaining in

that condition without harm for a long time to come. Reviving them and, more

important, relocating them on a suitable planet would be a major project.

The sensible thing for Conway to do would be to bow out gracefully and dump the

problem in the laps of the cultural

I HO

jmivico vvni i

contact specialists. Rhabwar could then return to its dock and the medical team

could go back to treating the weird and wonderful variety of patients who

turned up at Sector General while they waited for the next distress call for

their special ambulance ship.

But the two men watching him so intently were a scoutship commander on survey

duty, who would be lucky if he turned up one inhabited system in ten years of

searching, and Major Fletcher, Rhabwar's Captain and a recognized authority in

the field of extraterrestrial comparative technology—and the rescue of this e-t

sublight colonization transport could well be the biggest problem to face the

Federation since the discovery and treatment of the continent-girdling strata

creature of Drambo/

Conway looked from Nelson to Fletcher, then said quietly, "You're right,

Captain, this isn't our responsibility. It is Cultural Contact's problem, and

they would not think any the less of us, in fact they would expect us to hand it

over to them. But I get the impression that you don't want me to do that."

Fletcher shook his head firmly and Nelson said, "Doctor, if you have any friends

in authority, tell them I would willingly give an arm or a leg to be allowed to

stay on this one."

A cool, logical portion of Conway's mind was urging him to do the sensible

thing, to think about what he was letting himself in for and to remember who

would be blamed if things went wrong, but it never had any hope of winning that

argument.

"Good," Conway said, "that makes it unanimous."

They were both grinning at him in a manner totally unbefitting their rank and

responsibilities, as if he had bestowed some great favor instead of condemning

them to months of unremitting mental and physical hard labor. He went on, "As

the ship responsible for making the original find, Tyrell would be justified in

remaining, and as the medical team in attendance, the same applies to Rhabwar.

But we are going to need a lot of help, and if we are to have any hope of

getting it you will have to give me detailed information on every aspect of this

problem, not just the medical side, and answers to the questions which are going

to be asked.

"To begin with, I shall need to know a great deal more about the physiology of

the survivors, and you will have to

bt«J I UM UtlNtHAL

llf

find me a couple of additional cadavers for Thornnastor, the hospital's

Diagnostician-in-Charge of Pathology. It has six feet and weighs half a ton and

if Murchison and I don't come up with some sensible conclusions about this

life-form, and specimens for Thorny to investigate independently, it will walk

all over me. And what O'Mara and Skempton will do—"

'They're public servants, Doctor," Nelson said, grinning. "You have the rank."

Conway got to his feet and said very seriously, "This is not simply a matter of

whistling up another flotilla of scoutships, gentlemen, and something more than

a hyperspace signal will be needed this time. To get the help we need I'll have

to go back to the hospital and argue and plead, and probably thump the table a

bit."

As he entered the gravity-free central well and began pulling himself toward the

Casualty Deck he could hear Fletcher saying, "That wasn't much of an

inducement, Nelson. Most of his highly placed friends have more arms and legs

than they know what to do with."

Leaving Rhabwar and the rest of the medical team at the disaster site, Conway

traveled to Sector General in Tyrell. He had requested an urgent meeting with

the hospital's big three— Skempton, Thornnastor, and O'Mara—as soon as the

scoutship had emerged into normal space. The request had been granted but Chief

Psychologist O'Mara had told him curtly that there would be no point trying to

start the meeting prematurely by worrying out loud over the communication

channel, so Conway had to curb his impatience and try to marshal his arguments

while Sector General slowly grew larger in the forward view-screen.

When Conway arrived in the Chief Psychologist's office, Thornnastor, Skempton,

and O'Mara were already waiting for him. Colonel Skempton, as the ranking

Monitor Corps officer in the hospital, was occupying the only other chair, apart

from O'Mara's own, which was suitable for the use of Earth-humans; Thornnastor,

like the other members of the Tralthan species, did everything including

sleeping on its six, elephantine feet.

The Chief Psychologist waved a hand at the selection of e-t furniture ranged in

front of his desk and said, "Take a seat

vvm 11

if you can do so without injuring yourself, Doctor, and make your report."

Conway arranged himself carefully in a Kelgian relaxer frame and began to

describe briefly the events from the time Rhabwar had arrived in response to

Tyrell's distress beacon. He told of the investigation of the first section of

the fragmented alien vessel which was the product of a race in the early stage

of spaceship technology, possessing sublight drive and gravity furnished by

rotating their ship. Every undamaged section found had contained an e-t in

suspended animation. For this reason additional scoutships had been requested to

help find and retrieve the remaining survivors as a matter of urgency because

the majority of these widely scattered suspended animation' compartments would,

in just under twelve weeks' time, fall into or pass so close to a nearby sun

that the beings inside them would perish.

While Conway was speaking, O'Mara stared at him with eyes which opened into a

mind so perceptive and analytical that it gave the Chief Psychologist what

amounted to a telepathic faculty. Thornnastor's four eyes were focused equally

on Conway and Colonel Skempton, who was staring down at his scratch pad where he

was drawing a circle and going over it repeatedly without lifting his stylus.

Conway found himself watching the pad as well, and abruptly he stopped talking.

Suddenly they were staring at him with all of their eyes, and Skempton said,

"I'm sorry, Doctor, does my doodling distract you?"

"To the contrary, sir," Conway said, smiling, "you have helped a lot."

Ignoring the Colonel's baffled expression, Conway went on, "Our original theory

was that a sublight vessel with the configuration of a rotating wheeltype space

station suffered a catastrophic malfunction or collision which carried away its

hub-mounted propulsion and navigation systems, and jarred the rim structure

apart; the subsequent dispersal of the suspended animation containers was aided

by the centrifugal force which furnished their ship with artificial gravity. But

the number of sections found just before I left the area were more than enough

to form three complete Wheels and, because I have been bothered by the fact

that no head segments have been found so far,

I have decided to discard the Wheel or multiple Wheel theory in favor of the

more simple configuration suggested by the Colonel's sketch of a continuous—"

"Doctor," Thornnastor broke in firmly. As the Diagnosti-cian-in-Charge of

Pathology it had a tendency toward single-mindedness where its specialty was

concerned. "Kindly describe in detail and give me the physiological

classification of this life-form and, of course, your assessment of the number

of casualties we will be required to treat. And are specimens of this life-form

available for study?"

Conway felt his face reddening as he made an admission no Senior Physician on

the staff of Sector General should ever have to make. He said, "We cannot

classify this life-form with complete certainty, sir. But I have brought you two

cadavers in the hope that you may be able to do so. As I have already said, the

survivors are still inside their suspended animation compartments and the

relatively few who did not survive are in a badly damaged condition—in several

pieces, in fact."

Thornnastor made untranslatable noises which probably signified approval, then

it said, "Had they not been in pieces, I would soon have rendered them so. But

the fact that neither Murchison nor yourself are sure of their classification

surprises and intrigues me, Doctor. Surely you are able to form a few tentative

conclusions?"

Conway was suddenly glad that Prilicla was still on board Rhabwar because his

embarrassment would have given the little empath a bad fit of the shakes. He

said, "Yes, sir. The being we examined was a warm-blooded oxygen breather with

the type of basic metabolism associated with that physiological grouping. The

cadaver was massive, measuring approximately twenty meters in length and three

meters in diameter, excluding projecting appendages. Physically it resembles the

DBLF Kelgian life-form, but many times larger and possessing a leathery

tegument rather than the silver fur of the Kelgians. Like the DBLFs it is

multipedal, but the manipulatory appendages are positioned in a single row along

the back.

"There were twenty-one of these dorsal limbs, all showing evidence of early

evolutionary specialization. Six of them were long, heavy, and claw-tipped and

were obviously evolved for defense since the being was a herbivore, and there

were fifteen

in five groups of three spaced between the six heavier tentacles. Each of the

thinner limbs terminated in four digits, two of which were opposable, and were

manipulatory appendages originally evolved for gathering and transferring food

to the mouths, of which there are three on each flank opening into three

stomachs. Two additional orifices on each side open into a very large and

complex lung. The structure inside these breathing orifices suggests that

expelled air could be interrupted and modulated to produce intelligence-bearing

sounds. On the underside were three openings used for the elimination of wastes.

"The mechanism of reproduction was unclear," he continued, "and the specimen

showed evidence of possessing both male and female genitalia on the forward and

rear extremities, respectively. The brain, if it was the brain, took the form of

a cable of nerve ganglia with localized swellings in three places, running

longitudinally through the cadaver like a central core. There was another and

much thinner nerve cable running parallel to the thicker core, but below it and

about twenty-five centimeters from the underside. Positioned close to each

extremity were two sets of three eyes, two of which were mounted dorsally and

two on the forward and rear flanks. They were recessed but capable of limited

extension and together gave the being complete and continuous vision vertically

and horizontally. The type and positioning of the visual equipment and

appendages suggest that it evolved on a very unfriendly world.

"Our tentative classification of the being," Conway ended, "was an incomplete

CRLT."

"Incomplete?" Thornnastor said.

"Yes, sir," Conway said. "The cadaver we examined had sustained minimum damage

since it had died during a slow decompression while in suspended animation. We

could be wrong, but there were signs of some kind of radical surgery having

taken place, a double removal of what may have been the head and tail of the

being. This was not a traumatic amputation caused by the disaster to their

ship, but a deliberate procedure which may have been required to fit the being

into its suspended animation container for the colonization attempt. The body

tegument overall is thick and very tough, but at the extremities the only

protection is a hard, transparent layer of

organic material, and the underlying protrusions, fissures, orifices, and

musculature look raw. This suggests—"

"Conway," O'Mara said sharply, with a glance toward the suddenly paling Colonel.

"With respect to Thornnastor, you have moved too quickly -from the general to

the particular. Please confine yourself at this stage to a simple statement of

the problem and your proposed solution."

Colonel Skempton was the man responsible for making Sector General function as

an organization— but, as he was fond of telling his medical friends when they

started to talk shop in grisly detail, he was a glorified bookkeeper, not a

bloody surgeon! The trouble was that there was no way Conway could state his

problem simply without offending the sensibilities of the overly squeamish

Colonel.

"Simply," Conway said, "the problem is a gigantic, worm-like entity, perhaps

five kilometers or more in length, which has been chopped into many hundreds of

pieces. The indicated treatment is to join the pieces together again, in the

correct order."

The Colonel's stylus stopped in mid-doodle, Thornnastor made a loud,

untranslatable sound, and O'Mara, normally a phlegmatic individual, said with

considerable vehemence, "Conway, you are not considering bringing that—that

Midgard Serpent to the hospital?"

Conway shook his head. "The hospital is much too small to handle it."

"And so," Skempton said, looking up for the first time, "is your ambulance

ship."

Before Conway could reply, Thornnastor said, "I find it difficult to believe

that the entity you describe could survive such radical amputation. However, if

Prilicla and yourself state that the separate sections so far recovered are

alive, then I must accept it. But have you considered the possibility that it is

a group entity, similar to the Telphi life-form which are stupid as individuals

but highly intelligent as a gestalt? Physical fragmentation in those

circumstances would be slightly more credible, Doctor."

"Yes, sir, and we have not yet discarded that possibility—" Conway began.

"Very well, Doctor," O'Mara broke in dryly. "You may restate the problem in less

simple form."

The problem... thought Con way.

He began by asking them to visualize the vast, alien ship as it had been before

the disaster—not the multiple Wheel shape first discussed but a great,

continuous, open coil of constant diameter and similar in configuration to the

shape on the Colonel's pad. The separate turns of the coil had been laced

together by an open latticework of metal beams which held the vessel together as

a rigid unit and provided the structural support needed along the thrust axis

during take-off, acceleration, and landing. Assembled in orbit, the ship had

been approximately five hundred meters in diameter and close on a mile long,

with* its power and propulsion system at one end of an axial support structure

and the automatic guidance system and sensors at the other.

The exact nature of the accident or malfunction was not yet known, but judging

by the observed effects it had been caused by a collision with a large natural

object which, striking the vessel head-on, had taken out the guidance system

forward, the axial structure, and the stern thrusters. The shock of the

collision had shaken the great, rotating coil into its component suspended

animation compartments, and centrifugal force had done the rest.

"This being—or beings—is so physiologically constituted," Conway went on, "that

to assist it we must first rebuild its ship and land it successfully. Fitting

the pieces together again can be done most easily in weightless conditions. The

fact that the twenty-meter sections of the coil have flown apart but retained

their positions with respect to each other will greatly assist the reassembly

operation—"

"Wait, wait," the Colonel said. "I cannot see this operation being possible,

Doctor. For one thing, you will need a very potent computer indeed to work out

the trajectories of those expanding sections accurately enough to return them to

their original positions in this—this jigsaw puzzle—and the equipment needed to

reassemble it would be—"

"Captain Fletcher says it is possible," Conway said firmly-"Piecing together the

remains of an extraterrestria] ship has

bbU IUH UtNtHAL

been done before, and much valuable knowledge was gained in the process.

Admittedly, on previous occasions there were no living survivors to be pieced

together as well and the work was on a much smaller scale."

"Much smaller," O'Mara said dryly. "Captain Fletcher is a theoretician and

Rhabwar is his first operational command. Is he happy ordering three scoutship

flotillas around?"

The Chief Psychologist was considering the problem in the terms of his own

specialty, Conway knew, and as usual O'Mara was a jump ahead of everyone else.

"He seems to enjoy worrying about it," Conway said carefully, "and there are no

overt signs of megalomania."

O'Mara nodded and sat back in his chair.

But the Colonel could jump to correct conclusions as well, if not always as

quickly as the Chief Psychologist. He said, "Surely, O'Mara, you are not

suggesting that Rhabwar direct this operation? It's too damned big, and

expensive. It has to be referred up to—"

"There isn't time for committee decisions," Conway began.

"—the Federation Council," the Colonel finished. "And anyway, did Fletcher tell

you how he proposed fitting this puzzle together?"

Conway nodded. "Yes, sir. It is a matter of basic design philosophy,.." Captain

Fletcher was of the opinion—an opinion shared by the majority of the

Federation's top designers— that any piece of machinery beyond a certain degree

of complexity, be it a simple groundcar or a spaceship one kilometer long,

required an enormous amount of prior design work, planning and tooling long

before the first simple parts and subas-semblies could become three-dimensional

metal on someone^s workbench. The number of detail and assembly drawings,

wiring diagrams, and so on for even a small spaceship was mind-staggering, and

the purpose of all this paperwork was simply to instruct beings of average

intelligence how to manufacture and fit together the pieces of the jigsaw

without knowing, or perhaps even caring, anything about the completed picture.

If normal Earth-human, Tralthan, Illensan, and Melfan practice was observed—and

the engineers of those races and many others insisted that there was no easier

way—then those drawings and the components they described must include

instructions, identifying symbols, to guide the builders in the correct placing

of these parts within the jigsaw.

Possibly there were extraterrestrial species which used more exotic methods of

identifying components before assembly, such as tagging each part with an

olfactory or tactile coding system, but this, considering the tremendous size of

the coil ship and the number of parts to be identified and joined, would

represent a totally unnecessary complication unless there were physiological

reasons for doing things the hard way.

The cadaver had possessed eyes which operated within the normal visible

spectrum, and Captain Fletcher was sure that the alien shipbuilders would do

things the easy way by marking the surface of the components with identifying

symbols which could be read at a glance. Following a detailed examination of a

damaged suspended animation cylinder and the remains of its supporting

framework, Fletcher found that the system of identification used was groups of

symbols vibro-etched into the metal, and that adjoining components bore the same

type and sequence of symbols except for the final letter or number. "Clearly

they think, and put their spaceships together, much the same as we do," Conway

concluded.

"I see," the Colonel said. He sat forward in his chair. "But decoding those

symbols and fitting the parts .together will take a lot of time."

"Or a lot of extra help," Conway said. Skempton sat back, shaking his head.

Thornnastor was silent also, but the slow, impatient thumping of its massive

feet indicated that it was not likely to remain so for long. It was O'Mara who

spoke first.

"What assistance will you need, Doctor?" Conway looked gratefully at the Chief

Psychologist for getting straight to the point as well as for the implied

support. But he knew that O'Mara would withdraw that support without hesitation

if he had the slightest doubt about Conway's ability to handle the problem. If

Conway was to be confirmed in this assignment, he would have to convince O'Mara

that he knew exactly what he was doing. He cleared his throat.

"First," he said, "we should initiate an immediate search for the vessel's home

world so that we can learn as much as possible about this entity's culture,

environment, and food requirements, as well as having somewhere to put it when

the rescue is complete. It is almost certain that the disaster caused a large

deviation in the coilship's course, and it is possible that the vessel suffered

a guidance malfunction not associated with the accident which fragmented it, and

it has already overshot the target world. This would complicate the search and

increase the number of units conducting it."

Before the Colonel could react, Conway went on quickly, "I also need a search of

the Federation Archives. For many centuries before the Federation came into

being there were species who possessed the startravel capability and did a lot

of independent exploration. There is a slight chance that one of them may have

encountered or heard reports of an entity resembling an intelligent Midgard

Serpent—"

He broke off, then for Thornnastor's benefit he explained that the Midgard

Serpent was a creature of Earth-human mythology, an enormous snake which was

supposed to have encircled the planet with its tail in its mouth. Thornnastor

thanked him and expressed its relief that the being was mythological.

"Until now," the Colonel said sourly.

"Second," Conway went on, "comes the problem of rapid retrieval and placement of

the scattered suspended animation cylinders. Many more scoutships will be

required, supported by all of the available specialists in e-t languages and

technical notation systems, and computer facilities capable of analyzing this

material. A large, ship-borne translation computer should be able to handle the

job—"

"That means Descartes'" Skempton protested.

"—In the time remaining to us," Conway resumed, "and I hear Descartes recently

completed its first contact program on Dwerla and is free. But the third and

most technically difficult part of the problem is the reassembly. For this we

need fleet auxiliaries with the engineering facilities and space construction

personnel capable of rapidly rebuilding those parts of the alien vessel's

supporting framework which cannot be salvaged from the wreckage. Ideally the

people concerned should be experienced Tralthan and Hudlar space construction

teams.

"Four," he continued, allowing no time for objections, "we need a ship capable

of coordinating the reassembly operation.

and mounting a large number of tractor and pressor beam batteries with officers

highly trained in their use. This will reduce the risk of collision in the

assembly area between the retrieved sections and our own ships. The coordinating

vessel will have its own computer capable of handling the logistic—"

"Vespasian, he wants," Skempton said dully.

"Yes, its tactical computer would be ideal," Conway replied. "It also has the

necessary tractor and pressor batteries and, I believe, a very large cargo lock

in case I have to withdraw some of the CRLTs from their suspended animation

compartments. Remember, several segments of the entity were destroyed and

surgery may be required in these areas to close the gaps. But until we know a

great deal more about this entity's, physiology and environment I have no clear

idea of the type and quantity of medical assistance which will be needed."

"At last," Thornnastor growled through its translator, "you are about to discuss

the needs of the patient."

"The delay was intentional, sir," Conway said, "since we must repair the ship

before we can help the occupant. Regarding this entity, or entities, Pathologist

Murchison and myself have examined one cadaver and we seek confirmation of our

preliminary findings and as much additional physiological data as you can

provide from the specimens brought back in Tyrell, and from the contents of the

intravenous infusion equipment which is used, apparently, to induce, extend, and

reverse the suspended animation process. Specifically, we require much more

information on the nervous system, the linkages to the voluntary and involuntary

musculature, the degree and rapidity of tissue regeneration we can expect if

surgical intervention is necessary and additional data on the transparent

material which covers and protects the raw areas at the forward and rear

extremities. Naturally, sir, this information is required the day before

yesterday."

"Naturally," Thornnastor growled. Its six elephantine feet, which had been

silent while Conway was speaking, resumed their slow thumping. Clearly-the

Tralthan was eager to go to work on those specimens of the completely new

life-form.

O'Mara waited for precisely three seconds, then he scowled up at Conway and

said, "And that is all you require. Doctor?"

Conway nodded. "For the present."

OCOIU«

Colonel Skempton leaned forward and said caustically, "'For the present he needs

the services of a Sector subfleet, including Descartes and Vespasian. Before we

can recommend the deployment of so many Service units we should refer the

matter to the Federation Council for—" He broke off because the thumping of

Thornnastor's feet was making conversation difficult.

"Your pardon, Colonel," the Tralthan said, "but it seems to me that if we refer

this matter to the Council they will ponder on it at great length and then

decide to make it the responsibility of the beings best able to understand and

solve the problem, who are the entities comprising the technical and medical

crew of Rhabwar. The special ambulance ship program was designed to deal with

the unexpected, and the fact that this problem is unexpectedly large is beside

the point.

"This is an entity, or entities, of a hitherto unknown species," it went on,

"and I recommend that Senior Physician Conway be given the assistance he

requires to rescue and treat it. However, I have no objection to you

recommending this course and referring the matter to the Council for discussion

and ratification, and for amendment should they come up with a better idea.

Well, Colonel?"

Skempton shook his head. He said doggedly, "It's wrong, I know it's wrong, for a

newly appointed ship commander and a medic to be given so much authority. But

the Rhabwar people are the only ones who know what they are doing at the moment.

Reluctantly, I agree. O'Mara?"

All their eyes, the Colonel's and Conway's two and Thorn-nastor's four, were on

the Chief Psychologist, who kept his steadily on Conway. Finally he spoke.

"If you have nothing else to say, Doctor," he said dryly, "I suggest you return

to Rhabwar as quickly as possible before the area becomes so congested that you

can't find your own ship."

The reaction time of the Monitor Corps to an emergency large or small was

impressively fast. In Tyrell's forward view-screen the area resembled a small,

untidy star cluster in which Rhabwar's beacon flashed at its center like a

short-term variable. Apart from acknowledging their arrival and giving them

permission to lock on, Fletcher did not speak to them because, he explained,

fifteen more scoutships had arrived unexpectedly and he was busy fitting them

into his retrieval program. For this reason Conway did not get an opportunity to

tell him about the other unexpected things which were about to happen until he

was back on board the ambulance ship, and by that time it was too late.

"Rkabwar," a voice said from the wall speaker as Conway entered Control, "this

is the survey and cultural contact vessel Descartes, Colonel Okaussie

commanding. I'm told you have work for us, Major Fletcher."

"Well, yes, sir," the Captain said. He looked appealingly at Conway, then went

on, "If 1 might respectfully suggest, sir,, that your translation specialists—"

"I'd rather you didn't," Colonel Okaussie broke in. "Respectfully suggest, I

mean. When I know as much about this situation as you do I'll accept

suggestions, respectful or otherwise. But until then, Major, stop wasting time

and tell me what you want us to do."

"Yes, sir," Fletcher said. Speaking quickly, concisely, and, out of habit,

respectfully, he did just that. Then a few seconds after he broke contact the

radar screen showed a new trace which was even larger than Descartes. It

identified itself as the Hudlar-crewed depot ship Motann, a star-going

engineering complex normally used to bring technical assistance to vessels whose

hyperdrive generators had failed noncatastrophically leaving them stranded in

normal space between the stars. Its captain, who was not a Monitor Corps

officer, was also happy to take his instructions from Fletcher. But then ah even

larger blip appeared on the screen, indicating that a very large ship indeed had

just emerged from hyperspace. Automatically Lieutenant Haslam fed the bearing

to the telescope and tapped for maximum magnification.

The tremendous, awe-inspiring sight of an Emperor-class battlecruiser filled the

screen.

"Rhabwar, this is Vespasian

Fletcher paled visibly at the thought of giving instructions to the godlike

entity who would be in command of that ship, whose communications officer was

relaying the compliments of Fleet Commander Dermod and a request for full vision

contact as soon as convenient. Conway, who had not had time to tell the Captain

what to expect because it was already happening, got to his feet.

"I'll be in the Casualty Deck lab," he said. Grinning, he reached across to clap

Fletcher reassuringly on the shoulder and added, "You're doing fine, Captain.

Just remember that, a long, long time ago, the Fleet Commander was a major,

too."

The conversation between Fletcher and the Fleet Commander, complete with

visuals, was on the Casualty Deck's repeater when he arrived, but the sound was

muted because Prilicla was on another frequency giving instructions to one of

the scoutship medical officers regarding a cadaver the other had found and which

Murchison wanted brought in for examination. Murchison and Naydrad were still

working on the first specimen, which had been reduced to what seemed to be its

component parts.

Murchison nodded toward the repeater screen and said, "You seem to have been

given everything you needed. Was O'Mara in a good mood?'.'

"His usual sarcastic, helpful self," Conway said, moving to join her at the

dissection table. "Do we know anything more about this outsize boa constrictor?"

"I don't know what we know," she said crossly, "but / know a little more and

feel more than a little confused by the knowledge. For instance..."

The thick pencil of nerve ganglia with its localized bunch-ings and swellings

which ran through the center of the cylindrical body was, almost certainly, the

CRLT's equivalent of a brain, and the idea of a missing head or tail was

beginning to seem unlikely—especially since the transparent material which

covered the raw areas fore and aft was, despite its appearance, equally as tough

as the being's leathery body tegument.

She had been successful in tracing the nerve connections between the core

swellings and the eyes, mouths, and manipulatory appendages, and from both ends

of the axial nerve bundle to the puzzling system of muscles which underlay the

raw areas on the forward and rear faces of the creature.

The specimen appeared to be male—at least, the female genitalia at the other end

were shrunken and seemed to be in a condition of early atrophy—and she had

identified the male

sperm generator and the method of transfer to a female.

"... There is evidence of unnatural organ displacement," she went on, "which can

only be caused by weightlessness. Gravity, real or artificial, is a

physiological necessity for this life-form. During hibernation the absence of

weight would not be fatal, but weightlessness while conscious would cause severe

nausea, sensory impairment, and, I feel sure, intense mental and physical

distress."

Which meant that the being would have to be in position on the rim of its

rotating vessel or affected by natural gravity, that of its target world, when

it was revived. It isn't a doctor this patient needed, Con way thought wryly,

it's a miracle worker!

"With the Captain's help," Murchison continued, "we have established that the

medication which produces and or extends the hibernation anesthesia occupies the

larger volume of a dispenser mechanism which also contains a smaller quantity

of the complex organic secretion which can only be the reviver. Fletcher also

traced the input to the automatic sensor and actuator which switches the

mechanism from the hibernation to the resuscitation mode and found that it

reacted to the combined presence of gravity and external pressure. The same

actuator mechanism is also responsible for ejecting the endplates of its

hibernation compartment which would enable the CRLT to disembark.

"Sooner or later we're going to have to revive one of these things," she ended

worriedly, "and we'll have to be very sure that we know what we are doing."

Conway was already out of his spacesuit and climbing into his surgical

coveralls. He said, "Anything in particular you'd like me to do?"

They worked on the cadaver while the hours flickered past on the time display to

become days, then weeks. From time to time a terse, subspace message from

Thornnastor would arrive confirming their findings or suggesting new avenues of

investigation, but even so it seemed that their rate of progress was slow to

nonexistent.

Occasionally they would look up at the Control Room repeater, but with

decreasing frequency. Fletcher, a Hudlar space

construction specialist, and variously qualified Monitor Corps officers were

usually showing each other pieces of twisted metal via their vision channels,

comparing identification symbols and talking endlessly about them. No doubt it

was all vitally important stuff, but it made boring listening. Besides, they

had their own organic jigsaw puzzle to worry about.

A pleasant break in the routine would occur when they had to go outside to look

at one of the other cadavers which had been brought in and attached to the outer

hull, there being room for only one CRLT at a time inside Rhabwar. On these

occasions the investigations were conducted in airless conditions and only the

organic material which was of special interest to them was excised for later

study. As a result they found a bewildering variety of age and sex combinations

which seemed to indicate that the older CRLTs were well-developed males whose

raw areas at each extremity had a brownish coloration, while the younger beings

were clearly female and the areas concerned were a livid pink under the

transparent covering.

Once there was a break in the investigative routine which was not pleasant.' For

several hours they had been studying a flaccid, purplish lump of something which

might have been the organic trigger for the being's hibernation phase, and

making very little progress with it, when Prilicla broke into their angry,

impatient silence.

"Friend Murchison," the empath said, "is feeling tired."

"I'm not," the pathologist said, with a yawn which threatened to dislocate her

firm but beautifully formed lower mandible. "At least, I wasn't until you

reminded me."

"As are you, friend Conway—" Prilicla began, when there was an interruption. The

furry features of Surgeon-Lieutenant Krach-Yul replaced the pieces of alien

hardware which had been filling the repeater screen.

"Doctor Conway," the Orligian medic said, "I have to report an accident. Two

Earth-human DBDGs, simple fractures, no decompression damage—"

"Very well," said Conway, clenching his teeth on a yawn. "Now's your chance to

get in some more other-species surgical experience."

"—And a Hudlar engineer, physiological classification FROB," Krach-Yul went on.

"It has sustained a deep, incised,

and lacerated wound which has been quickly but inadequately treated by the being

itself. There has been a considerable loss of body fluid and associated internal

pressure, diminished sen-soria, and—"

"Coming," Conway said. To Murchison he muttered, "Don't wait up for me."

While Tyrell was taking him to the scene of the accident, an area where three of

the coilship sections were being fitted together, Conway reviewed his

necessarily scant surgical experience with the Hudlar life-form.

They were a species who rarely took sick, and then only during preadolescence,

and they were fantastically resistant to physical injury, with eyes which were

protected by a hardv transparent membrane, tegument like flexible armor, and no

body orifices except for the temporary ones opened for mating and birth.

The FROBs were ideally suited to space construction projects. Their home

planet, Hudlar, pulled four Earth gravities, and its atmospheric pressure—if

that dense, soupy mixture of oxygen, inerts, and masses of microscopic animal

and vegetable nutrient in suspension could be called an atmosphere— was seven

times Earth-normal. At home they absorbed the food-laden air through their

incredibly tough yet porous skin, while offplanet they sprayed themselves

regularly and frequently with nutrient paint. Their six flexible and immensely

strong limbs terminated in four-digited hands which, when the fingers were

curled inward and the knuckles presented to the ground, served also as feet.

Environmentally, the Hudlars were a very adaptable species, because the

physiological features which protected them against their own planet's crushing

gravity and pressure also enabled them to work comfortably in any noncorrosive

atmosphere of lesser pressure right down to and including the vacuum of space.

The only item of equipment a Hudlar space construction engineer needed, apart

from its tools, was a communicator which took the form of a small, air-filled

blister enclosing its speaking membrane and a two-way radio.

Conway had not bothered to ask if there was an FROB medic on the Hudlar ship.

Curative surgery had been a completely alien concept to that virtually

indestructible species until

they had joined the Federation and learned about places like Sector General, so

that medically trained Hudlars were about as rare outside the hospital as

physically injured ones inside it.

Captain Nelson placed Tyrell within fifty meters of the scene of the accident.

Conway headed for the injured Hudlar. Krach-Yul had already reached the

Earth-human casualties, one of whom was blaming himself loudly and unprintably

for causing the accident and tying up the suit frequency in the process.

Conway gathered that the two Earth-humans had been saved from certain death by

being crushed between two slowly closing ship sections by the Hudlar interposing

its enormously strong body, which would have escaped without injury if the

jagged-edged stump of an external bracing member had not snagged one of the

FROB's limbs close to the point where it joined the body.

When Conway arrived, the Hudlar was gripping the injured limb with three of its

hands, tourniquet fashion, while the two free hands remaining were trying to

hold the edges of the wound together—unsuccessfully.' Tiny, misshapen globules

of blood were forming between its fingers to drift weightlessly away, steaming

furiously. It could not talk because its air bag had been lost, leaving its

speaking membranes to vibrate silently in the vacuum.

Conway withdrew a limb sleeve-piece, the largest size he carried, from his

Hudlar medical kit and motioned for the casualty to bare the wound.

He could see that it was a deep wound by the way the dark red bubbles grew

suddenly larger before they broke away, but he was able to snap the sleeve-piece

in position before too much blood was lost. Even so there was a considerable

leakage around both ends of the sleeve as the Hudlar's high internal pressure

tried to empty it of body fluids. Conway quickly attached circlips at each end

of the sleeve and began to tighten one while the Hudlar itself tightened the

other. Gradually the fluid loss slowed and then ceased, the casualty's hands

drifted away from the injured limb, and its speaking membrane ceased its silent

vibrating. The Hudlar had lost consciousness.

Ten minutes later the Hudlar was inside Tyrell's cargo lock and Conway was using

his scanner to search for internal damage caused by the traumatic decompression.

The longer he looked

the less he liked what he saw, and as he was concluding the examination

Krach-Yul joined him.

"The Earth-humans are simple fracture cases, Doctor," the Orligian reported.

"Before setting the bones I wondered if you, as a member of their own species,

would prefer to—"

"And rob you of the chance to increase your other-species experience?" Conway

broke in. "No, Doctor, you treat them. They're on antipain, I take it, and there

is no great degree of urgency?"

"Yes, Doctor," Krach-Yul said.

"Good," Conway said, "because I have another job for you— looking after this

Hudlar Until you can move it to Sector General. You will need a nutrient

sprayer from the Hudlar ship, then arrange with Captain Nelson to increase the

air pressure' and artificial gravity in this cargo lock to levels as close to

Hudlar-normal as he can manage. Treatment will consist of spraying the casualty

with nutrient at hourly intervals and checking on the cardiac activity, and

periodically easing the tightness of the sleeve-piece if your scanner indicates

a serious reduction of circulation to the injured limb. While you are doing

these things you will wear two gravity neutralizers. If you were wearing one and

it failed under four-G conditions there would be another seriously injured

casualty, you.

"Normally I would travel with this patient," he went on, stifling a yawn, "but I

have to be available in case something urgent develops with the CRLT. Hudlar

surgery can be tricky so I'll tape some notes on this one for the operating

team, including the suggestion that you be allowed to observe if you wish to do

so."

"Very much," Krach-Yul said, "and thank you, Doctor."

"And now I'll leave you with your patients and return to Rhabwar" Conway said.

Silently he added, to sleep.

"Tyrell was absent for eight days and was subsequently assigned to courier duty,

taking specimens to Sector General and returning with information, advice, and

detailed lists of questions regarding the progress of their work from

Thomnas-tor. The great, spiral jigsaw puzzle which was the alien ship was

beginning to take shape—or more accurately, to take a large number of

semicircular and quarter-circular shapes—as the hibernation cylinders were

identified, positioned, and cou-

pled. Many of the cylinders were still missing because they had been so

seriously damaged that their occupants had died or they had still to be found

and retrieved by the scoutships.

Conway was worried because the incomplete coilship and the motley fleet of

Monitor Corps vessels and auxiliaries were on a collision course with the nearby

sun, which was growing perceptibly brighter every day. It was clearly evident

that the growth rate of the alien vessel was much less perceptible. When he

worried about it aloud to the Fleet Commander, Dermod told him politely to mind

his own medical business.

Then a few days later Tyrell returned with information which made it very much

his medical business.

Vespasian's communications officer, who was usually a master of the diplomatic

delaying tactic, put him through to the Fleet Commander in a matter of seconds

instead of forcing him to climb slowly up the ship's entire chain of command.

This was not due to any sudden increase in Conway's standing with the senior

Monitor Corps officer, but simply that while Conway was trying to reach Dermod,

the Fleet Commander was trying to contact the Doctor.

It was Dermod who spoke first, with the slight artificiality of tone which told

Conway that not only was the other in a hurry and under pressure but that there

were other people present beyond the range of the vision pickup. He said,

"Doctor, there is a serious problem regarding the final assembly phase and I

need your help. You are already concerned over the limited time remaining to us

and, frankly, I was unwilling to discuss the problem with you until I was able

to present it, and the solution, in its entirety. This can now be done, in

reverse order, preferably. My immediate requirement is for another capital ship.

Claudius is available and—"

"Why—" Conway began, shaking his head in momentary confusion. He had been about

to list his own problems and requirements and found himself suddenly on the

receiving end.

"Very well, Doctor, I'll state the problem first," The Fleet Commander said,

frowning as he nodded to someone out of sight. The screen blanked for a few

seconds, then it displayed a black field on which there was a thick, vertical

gray line. At the lower end of the line a fat red box appeared and on the

opposite end a blue circle. Dermod went on briskly, "We now

have a pretty accurate idea of the configuration of the alien ship, and I am

showing you a very simple representation because 1 haven't time to do otherwise

right now.

"The ship had a central stem, the gray line," Dermod explained, "with the power

plant and thrusters represented by the red box aft and the forward-mounted

sensors and navigation systems shown as a blue circle. Since the ship's occupant

was unconscious, all of these systems were fully automatic. The stem also

provided the anchoring points for the structure which supported the inhabited

coil. You will see that the main supports are angled forward to compensate for

stresses encountered while the vessel was under power and during the landing

maneuver."

A forest of branches grew suddenly from the stem, making it look like a squat,

cylindrical Christmas tree standing in its * red tub and with a bright-blue

fairy light at the top. Then the continuous spiral of linked hibernation

compartments was attached to the ends of the branches, followed by the spacing

members which separated each loop of the coil, and the picture lost all

resemblance to a tree.

"The coil diameter remains constant throughout at just under five hundred

meters," the Fleet Commander's voice continued. "Originally there were twelve

turns of the coil and, with each hibernation cylinder measuring twenty meters in

length, this means there were roughly eighty hibernating CRLTs in every loop of

the coil and close on one thousand of the beings on the complete ship.

"Every loop of the coil was separated by a distance of seventy meters, so that

the total height of the coilship was just over eight hundred meters. We were

puzzled by this separation since it would have been structurally much simpler

laying one on top of the other, but we now believe that the open coil

configuration was designed both to reduce and localize meteorite collision

damage and remove the majority of the hibernation compartments as far as

possible from radiation leakage from the reactor at the stern. While encased in

its rather unusual vessel we think the creature traveled tail-first so that its

thinking end was at the stern to initiate disembarkation following the landing.

Unfortunately, the stern section had to be heavier and more rigid than the

forward structure since it had to support the weight of the vessel during

deceleration and landing, and

so it was the stern which sustained most of the damage when the collision

occurred, and most of the CRLT casualties were from the sternmost loop of the

coil."

According to Vespasian's computer's reconstruction, the vessel had been in

direct head-on collision with a large meteor, and the closing velocities

involved had been such that the whole central stem had been obliterated, as if

an old-time projectile hand weapon had been used to remove the core of an apple.

Only a few scraps of debris from the power unit and guidance system

remained—enough for identification purposes but not for reconstruction—and the

shock of the collision had shaken the overall coil structure apart.

On the screen the widely scattered hibernation compartments came together again

into a not quite complete coil: There were several sections missing,

particularly near the stern. Then the stem, its power and guidance systems, and

the entire support structure disappeared from the display leaving only the

incomplete coil.

"The central core of that vessel is a mass of pulverized wreckage many

light-years away," Dermod continued briskly, "and we have decided that trying to

salvage and reconstruct it would be an unnecessary waste of time and materiel

when there is a simpler solution available. This requires the presence of a

second Emperor-class vessel to—"

"But why do you want—?" Conway began.

"I am in the process of explaining why, Doctor," the Fleet Commander said

sharply. The image on the screen changed again and he went on, "The two capital

ships and Descartes will take up positions in close line-astern formation and

lock onto each other with matched tractor and pressor beams. In effect this will

convert the three ships into a single, rigid structure which will replace the

alien vessel's central stem, and the branching members which supported the coil

will also be non-material but equally rigid tractors and pressors.

"In the landing configuration Vespasian will be bottom of the heap," Dermod

continued, with a tinge of pride creeping into his voice. "Our thrusters are

capable of supporting the other two ships and the alien coilship during

deceleration and landing, with Claudius and Descartes furnishing lateral

stability and taking some of the load with surface-directed pressors.

After touchdown, the power reserves of all three vessels will be sufficient to

hold everything together for at least twelve hours, which should be long enough,

I hope, for the alien to leave its ship. If we can find somewhere to put it,

that is."

The image flicked off to be replaced by the face of the Fleet Commander. "So you

see, Doctor, I need Claudius to complete this—this partly nonmaterial structure

and to test its practicability in weightless conditions before working out the

stresses it will have to undergo during the landing maneuver. Of equal urgency

are the calculations needed to extend the combined hyperspace envelope of the

three ships to enclose the coil and Jump with it out of here before this damn

sun gets too close."

Conway was silent for a moment, inwardly cringing at the thought of some of the

things which could go catastrophically wrong when three linked ships performed a

simultaneous Jump. But he could not voice his concern because ship maneuvers

were most decidedly the Fleet Commander's and not the Doctor's business, and

Dermod would tell him so with justification. Besides, Conway had his own

problems and right now he needed help with them.

"Sir" he said awkwardly, "your proposed solution is ingenious, and thank you

for the explanation. But my original question was not regarding the reason why

you wanted Claudius, but why you needed my help in the matter."

For a moment the Fleet Commander stared at him blankly, then his expression

softened as he said, "My apologies, Doctor, if I seemed a trifle impatient with

you. The position is this. Under the new Federation Council directive covering

extraterrestrial rescue operations by Rhabwar, I am required in a large-scale

combined medical and military operation of this kind to obtain your approval for

additional personnel and materiel, specifically another capital ship. I assume

it is forthcoming?"

"Of course," Conway said.

Dermod nodded pleasantly despite his obvious embarrassment, but the lines of

impatience were beginning to gather again around his mouth as he said, "It will

be sufficient if you tape a few words as the physician-in-charge of the case to

the effect that Claudius is urgently required to ensure the present safety and

continued well-being of your patient. But you were calling me, Doctor. Can I

help you?"

"Yes, sir," Conway said, and went on quickly, "You have been concentrating on

joining the coilship sections in proper sequence. Now I have to begin putting

the patient together, with special emphasis on the joining of segments which are

not in sequence. That is, the ones which were separated by the hibernation

compartments whose occupants died. We are now sure that the being is a group

entity whose individual members are independently intelligent and may be capable

of linking up naturally to their adjoining group members when the conditions are

right. This is the theory, sir, but it requires experimental verification.

"The entities who are out of sequence could pose serious problems," Conway

concluded. "They will have to be removed from their hibernation compartments and

presented to each other so that I may determine the extent of the surgical work

involved in reassembling the group entity."

"Sooner you than me, Doctor," Dermod said with a brief grimace of sympathy. "But

what exactly do you need?"

He is like O'Mara, Conway thought, impatient with confused thinking. He said,

"I need two small ships to bring in the CRLT segments I shall specify and to

return them to their places in the coil. Also a large cargo hold which can

accommodate two of the hibernation cylinders joined end to end and the two

beings which will be withdrawn from them. The hold is to be fitted with

artificial gravity grids and nonmaterial restraints in case the conscious CRLTs

become confused and aggressive, and personnel to operate this equipment. I know

this will mean using the cargo lock and hold in one of the largest ships, but I

require only the hold; the vessel can go about its assigned duties."

"Thank you," the Fleet Commander said dryly, then paused while someone offscreen

spoke quietly to him. He went on, "You may use the forward hold in Descartes,

which will also provide the personnel and its two planetary landers for fetching

and carrying your CRLTs. Is there anything else?"

Conway shook his head. "Only an item of news, sir. The Federation archivists

think they have found the CRLTs home planet, although it is no longer habitable

due to major orbital changes and associated large-scale seismic disturbances.

The Department of Colonization has a new home for them in mind

and will give us the coordinates as soon as they are absolutely sure that the

environment and the CRLTs physiological classification are compatible. So we

have somewhere to take Humpty-Dumpty when we've put it together again.

"However," Conway ended very seriously, "all the indications are that this was

not simply a colony ship which ran into trouble, but a planetary lifeboat

carrying the last surviving members of the race."

Conway stared anxiously around the enormous interior of Descartes's forward hold

and thought that if he had known there were going to be so many sightseers he

would have asked for a much larger operating theater. Fortunately one-of them

was the ship's commanding officer, Colonel Okaussie, who kept the others from

getting in the way and ensured that the area of deck containing the two joined

hibernation cylinders was clear except for Murchison, Naydrad, Prilicla,

Fletcher, and Okaussie himself. Conway was sure of one thing: Whether the

initial CRLT link-up attempt was a success or a failure, there would be no

chance at all of keeping the result a secret.

He wet his lips and said quietly, "Uncouple the cylinders and move the joined

faces three meters apart. Bring the artificial gravity up to Earth-normal,

slowly, and the atmosphere to normal pressure and composition for the life-form.

You have the figures."

The fabric of his lightweight spacesuit began to settle against Conway's body

and there was mounting pressure against the soles of his feet as he watched the

facing ends of the two cylinders. Then abruptly the circular endplates jumped

out of their slots to clank onto the deck and come to rest like enormous,

spinning coins. The hibernation cylinders were now open at both ends, enabling

the two CRLTs to move toward or away from each other, or from one compartment to

the next.

"Neat!" Fletcher said. "When the coilship is spinning in its space-traveling

mode, centrifugal force holds the being against the outboard surface of the

cylinder, and when the spin ceases in the presence of real gravity and an

atmosphere the airtight seals drop away, the individual compartments are opened

to all of the others and the beastie, the complete group entity, that is, exits

by working down the stern-facing wall until all

of it reaches the surface. The gravity and pressure sensors are linked to the

medication reservoirs, Doctor, so you have just reproduced the conditions for

resuscitation following a planetary landing."

Conway nodded. He said, "Prilicla, can you detect anything?"

"Not yet, friend Conway."

They moved closer so as to be able to look into the two opened cylinders,

dividing their attention between the occupants who were lying flaccidly with

their dorsal manipulators hanging limply along their sides. Then one of the

enormous, tubular bodies began to quiver, and suddenly they were both moving

ponderously toward each other.

"Move back," Conway said. "Prilicla?"

"Consciousness is returning, friend Conway," the empath replied, trembling with

its own as well as everyone else's excitement. "But slowly; the movements are

instinctive, involuntary."1

As the forward extremity of one CRLT approached the rear of the other, the

organic film which protected the raw areas on each creature softened, liquefied,

and trickled away. At the center of the forward face a blunt, conical shape

began to form surrounded by systems of muscles which twitched themselves into

mounds and hollows and deep, irregular fissures. The rear face of the other CRLT

had grown its own series of hollows and orifices which exactly corresponded with

the protuberances of the other, as well as four large, triangular flaps which

opened out like the fleshy petals of an alien flower. Then all at once there was

just one double-length creature with a join which was virtually invisible.

And I was worried about joining them together, Conway thought incredulously. The

problem might be to keep them apart!

"Are we observing a physical coupling for the purpose of reproduction?"

Murchison said to nobody in particular.

"Friend Murchison," Prilicla said, "the emotional radiation of both creatures

suggests that this is not a conscious or involuntary sex act. A closer analogy

would be that of an infant seeking the physical reassurance of its parent.

However, both beings are seeking physical and mental reassurance, and have

feelings of confusion and loss, and these feelings are so closely matched that

the only explanation is shared mentation."

"Tractor beamers," Conway said urgently. "Pull them apart, gentlyl"

He had been delighted to find that the beings who made up the vast group entity

would link together naturally when the conditions were right, although that

might not be the case if too many intervening segments had been destroyed in the

accident, but he most certainly did not want a premature and permanent link-up

between these two at this stage. They would have to be returned to a state of

hibernation and resume their positions in the coil, otherwise they might find

themselves permanently separated, orphaned, from the group entity.

Even though the tractor beamers were no longer being gentle, the two CRLTs

stubbornly refused to separate. Instead they were becoming more physically

agitated, they were trying to emerge completely from their hibernation

cylinders, and their emotional radiation was seriously inconveniencing Prilicla.

"We must reverse the process—" Conway began.

"The sensors react to gravity and air pressure," Fletcher broke in quickly. "We

can't evacuate the hold without killing them, but if we cut the artificial

gravity only it might—"

"The endplate release mechanism was also linked to those sensors," Conway said,

"and we can't replace them in their slots without chopping the two beasties

apart, in the wrong place."

"It might stop the flow of resuscitation medication," Fletcher went on, "and

restart the hibernation sequence. The needles are still sited in both creatures

and the connecting tubing is flexible and still unbroken, although it won't be

for long if we don't stop them from leaving their cylinders. If we put a clamp

on the resuscitation line of each beastie, Doctor, I believe I could bypass the

endplate actuator and restart the hibernation medication."

"But you will be working inside the cylinders," Murchison said, "beside two very

massive and angry e-ts."

"No, ma'am," the Captain said. "1 am neither foolhardy nor a xenophobe, and I

shall work through an access panel in the outer skin. It should take about

twenty minutes."

"Too long," Conway said. "They will have disconnected

themselves from the tubing by then. We can calculate the dosage needed to put

them back to sleep. Can you drill through the wall of the container, ignoring

the sensors and actuators, and withdraw the required quantity of medication

directly?"

For a moment there was silence while Fletcher's features fell into an angry,

why-didn't-I think-of-that? expression, then he said, "Of course, Doctor."

But even when injections of the CRLTs own hibernation medication were ready

their troubles were far from over. The pressor beam operators who were

responsible for immobilizing the creatures could not hold down the two joined

e-ts without also flattening the medics who were trying to work on them. Their

best compromise was to leave a two-meters clearance on each side of the

operative field wherein the medical team would not be inconvenienced by the

pressors. But this meant that there was no restraint placed on the movements of

the creature along a four-meter length of its body, which wriggled and humped

and lashed out with its dorsal appendages and generally made it plain that it

did not want strange beings climbing all over it and sticking it with needles.

Several times Conway was knocked away from the patient and once, if it had not

been for a warning from Fletcher, he would have lost his helmet and probably the

head inside it. Murchison observed crossly that the big advantage in dealing

with cadavers was that, regardless of their physiological classifications, they

did not assault the pathologist and leave her normally peachlike skin

pigmentation black and blue. But with Naydrad's long, caterpillarlike body

wrapped around one appendage and both Fletcher and Colonel Okaussie hanging

onto the other limb which threatened the operative field, and with Murchison

steadying the scanner for him while he sat astride the creature like a bareback

horserider, Conway was able to guide his hypo into the correct vein and

discharge its contents before a particularly violent heave pulled the needle

free.

Within a few seconds Prilicla, whose fragile body had no place in this violent

muscular activity announced from its position on the ceiling that the being was

going back to sleep. When they withdrew to turn their attention to its

companion, its movements were already growing weaker.

By the time they had dealt similarly with the other CRLT,

the two creatures had separated. The hollows and protuberances and flaps of

muscle had collapsed and smoothed themselves out, and the raw interface areas

began exuding the clear liquid which congealed into a thin, transparent film.

Gently the tractor and pressor beam men lifted and pushed the two beings back

into their respective hibernation cylinders. Conway signaled for the artificial

gravity to be reduced to zero and, as expected, they were able to replace the

cylinder endplates without trouble. The cargo hold's air pressure was reduced

gradually so that they could check whether the premature opening of the

hibernation compartments had caused a leak. It had not.

"So far so good," Conway said. "Return them to their positions in the coil and

bring in the next two."

The first two had been the occupants of adjoining cylinders and their linking up

had been automatic, a natural process in all respects. But the second two had

been separated by a compartment which had been ruptured by a piece of flying

debris and its occupant killed. The affinity between these two might not be so

strong, Conway thought.

However, they merged as enthusiastically and naturally as had the first two. The

resuscitation process was reversed before they were fully conscious so as to

eliminate the multispecies wrestling match needed to put them into hibernation

again. Prilicla reported a minor variation in the emotional radiation associated

with the initial body contact-^-a feeling, very faint and temporary., of

disappointment. But the two segments of the group entity were compatible and

that particular break in continuity in the coil could be closed up.

Conway felt uneasy. Too much good luck worried him. Something was bothering

Prilicla, too, because he had long since learned to recognize the difference

between the little empath's reaction to its own feelings and those of the beings

around it.

"Friend Conway," Prilicia said, while they were awaiting the arrival of the

third set of CRLTs. "The first two beings were relatively immature and taken

from the forward section of the coil, that is, from the tail segments of this

multiple creature, and the second two came from a position considerably aft of

amidships. Our own deductions, supported by the information on the creatures'

probable planet of origin which

arrived with Tyrell, suggest that the tail segments are immature beings, perhaps

very young adults, and the head segments aft to be composed of the older, more

experienced, and most highly intelligent of the beings since they are

responsible for ship operations and disembarkation following a stern landing."

"Agreed," Conway said, wishing Prilicla would get to the point, no matter how

unpleasant it was, instead of talking all around it.

"Aft of amidships, friend Conway," Prilicla went on, "the CRLTs should be older.

The two who have just left us, judging by their emotional radiation, were even

less mature than the first set."

Conway looked at Murchison, who said defensively, "I don't know why that should

be, I'm sorry. Do the data on their home planet, if it is their home planet,

suggest an answer?"

"I'm pretty sure it was their home planet," Conway replied thoughtfully,

"because there couldn't possibly be another like it. But the data are old and

sparse and predate the assembly and launching from orbit of the coilship, and

we've been too busy since Tyre'll brought back the information to discuss it

properly."

"We have half an hour," Murchison observed, "before the next two CRLTs arrive."

Many centuries before the formation of the Galactic Federation, the Eurils had

ranged interstellar space, driven by a curiosity so intense and at the same time

hampered by a caution so extreme that even the Cinrusskin race to which Prilicla

belonged was considered brave, even foolhardy, by comparison. Physiologically

they were classification MSVK—a low-gravity, tripedal, and vaguely storklike

life-form, whose wings had evolved into twin sets of multidigited manipulators.

They had been and still were the galaxy's prime observers, and they were content

to look and learn and record through their long-range probes and sensors without

making their presence known to the large and dangerously overmuscled specimens,

intelligent or otherwise, who were under study.

During their travels the Eurils had come upon a system whose single,

life-bearing planet pursued a highly eccentric orbit about its primary which

forced its flora and fauna to adapt

to environmental conditions ranging from steaming polar jungles in summer to an

apparently lifeless winter world of ice. Seeing it for the first time in its

frigid, winter mode, the Eurils had been about to dismiss it as being

uninhabitable until their probes showed evidence of a highly technical culture

encased in the winter ice. Closer investigation revealed that the civilization

was current and was awaiting the spring, like every other animal and vegetable

life-form on the planet, to come out of hibernation.

It was not until the polar spring was far advanced that the members of this

hibernating culture were identified as the large, loglike objects which had been

lying in and around the cities under the ice.

"It is clear from this that the overall being is a group entity* which, for

reasons we do not yet understand, must separate into its individual parts before

hibernation can take place," Conway went on. "Since hibernation is natural to

them, the problem of artificially extending it and reversing the process for the

purpose of interstellar migration was, medically speaking, relatively easy to

solve.

"The following year a number of the beings were observed by the Eurils in a

fully conscious state," he continued, "going about their business in small group

gestalts inside heated domes under the winter ice, which indicates that they do

not go into hibernation unless or until it is forced on them. It is

unnecessary, therefore, to duplicate the extremes of temperature of their

planet of origin on their new home since any world closely resembling their

summer environment would suit them. Had this not been so, the near impossibility

of finding another and identical planetary environment to the one they were

trying to leave would have made the migration hopeless from the start. And the

reasons for the CRLT life-form becoming a group entity, initially a small-group

entity, are also becoming clear." Even at the time of the Eurils' visit the

CRLTs, despite their advanced technology, were not having things all their own

way. They lived on an incredibly savage world which had no clear division

between its animal and vegetable predators. In order to have any chance of

survival at all, the young CRLTs had to be born physically well developed and

remain under the

protection of the parent for as long as possible. In the CRLT's case,

parturition was delayed until the offspring was a young adult who had learned

how to survive and how to aid the continued survival of its parent.

Separation took place every winter, when everything went to sleep and there was

no physical threat, and the young one rejoined its parent in the spring to

continue its lessons in survival. The young one, who at this stage was

invariably female, reached physical maturity early and produced a child of its

own. And so it went with the original adult, who had begun to change its sex to

male, trailing a long tail of beings of diminishing degrees of masculinity and

experience behind it as it moved up the chain of the group entity toward the

head.

"The CRLT brain forms part of the central nerve core which during fusion is

linked to the brains of the individuals ahead of and behind it via the

interfaces at each end of the body," Conway went on, "so that an individual

segment learns not only by its own experience but from those of its predecessors

farther up the line. This means that the larger the number of individuals in the

group, the smarter will be its male head and forward segments. Should the head

segment, who is the elder of the group and probably its decision maker, die from

natural or other causes, the male next in line takes over."

Murchison cleared her throat delicately and said, "If anyone wishes at this

juncture to make a general observation regarding the superiority, physical or

intellectual, of the male over the female, be advised that I shall spit in his,

her, or its eye."

Conway smiled and shook his head. He said seriously, "The male head will,

naturally, fertilize a number of young female tail segments of other group

entities, but there is a problem. Surely there would be serious psychological

difficulties, sex-based frustrations, with so many of the intervening segments

neither fully male or female and unable to—"

"There is no problem," Murchison broke in, "if all mentation and, presumably,

the pain and pleasure stimuli are shared by every individual in the group."

"Of course, I'd forgotten that aspect," Conway said. "But there is another.

Think of the length of our survivor. If mentation and experience are shared,

then this could be a very long-

lived and highly intelligent group entity indeed—"

The discussion was cut short at that point by the lock cycling warning. The

third pair of CRLTs had arrived, *

These two had been taken from the sternmost loops of the coilship where the

casualties among the most senior and intelligent CRLTs had been heaviest.

According to Vespasian's tactical computer and the findings of Descartes's

specialists in e-t written languages and numerical systems, fifty-three of the

CRLT hibernation cylinders—and their occupants—had been destroyed as a result of

the collision, and between these two segments there had been seventeen members

of the group entity who had not made it.

The other breaks in the coil were much smaller—the largest missing five segments

and the rest only three or four each. Conway hoped that if the largest gap could

be closed successfully, then the smaller ones should pose fewer problems.

As with the previous two CRLTs, the combination of artificial gravity and

atmospheric pressure triggered the actuators which opened the cylinders and

reversed the hibernation process. Conway had already sited the IV needles which

would put them back to sleep again should they become disorderly, and Prilicla

reported that they were reviving and their emotional radiation indicated that

they were beings who were fully mature, healthy, and highly intelligent. As

consciousness returned they began moving out of their cylinders and toward each

other.

They touched, and jerked apart.

"What?" Conway began. But Prilicla was already answering the question.

"There are feelings of intense discomfort, friend Conway," the empath said,

trembling violently. "Also of confusion, disappointment, and rejection. There

is background emotion, a combination of anxiety and curiosity, which is probably

regarding their present surroundings."

Because he could think of nothing to say, Conway moved to a position directly

between the forward and rear interfaces of the two CRLTs. He did not consider

the position dangerous because, if Prilicla's emotional readings were correct,

they were unlikely to come together. He began examining the two interfaces, both

visually and with his x-ray scanner, and taking measurements. A few minutes

later Murchison joined him, and

Prilicla dropped to hover cautiously a few meters above the area.

"Even with unaided vision you can see that the two interfaces are not

compatible," Conway said worriedly. "There are three areas which cannot be made

to join without surgical intervention. But I am reluctant to start cutting

without having a clearer idea of how to proceed. 1 wish I could obtain the

consent and cooperation of the patients."

"That might be difficult," Colonel Okaussie said. "But I could have my men try

to—"

"Lift them on tractor beams and force another contact," Conway finished for him.

"I need one more attempted joining, at least, with vision recorders catching it

in close-up from the anterior, posterior, and lateral aspects. I also need

Prilicla to monitor their emotional radiation closely during the attempt so that

we will know which particular areas give the most discomfort and are,

therefore, most in need of surgical attention. During surgery, instead of using

an anesthetic, we can return them into hibernation. Yes, Doctor?"

"Have you considered, friend Conway—" began Prilicla, but Conway cut it short.

"Little friend," he said, "I know of old your roundabout manner of expressing

disagreement as well as your feelings regarding the causing of unnecessary

discomfort to patients, and you know that I share those feelings. But much as I

dislike causing pain, in this case it is necessary."

"Doctor Con way," Colonel Okaussie said, with an impatient edge to his tone, "a

few moments ago I had been about to suggest that since the beings are fully

conscious, intelligent, and their visual range is similar to our own, we should

be able to obtain their cooperation by explaining the situation to them

graphically. I think it is worth a try."

"It most certainly is," Conway said. He caught Fletcher's eye and muttered, "Now

why didn't I think of that?"

Descartes's commanding officer smiled and said, "I'll have a projection screen

set up as quickly as possible, Doctor." Conway began assembling the instruments

he would need while Murchison and Naydrad took over the job of measuring the

interfaces and Prilicla hovered above them radiating reassurance to the

patients.

It was a large screen, set between the angle of the*ceiling and the aft wall of

the hold so that the dorsally mounted eyes of both CRLTs would be able to view

it without distortion. Descartes's officers were specialists in e-t

communications and the presentation was short, simple, and very much to the

point. The opening sequence was familiar since it was part of the material the

Fleet Commander had used during his recent briefing to Conway. It showed a

diagrammatic reconstruction of the CRLTs great, coillike interstellar transport

complete with central stem, coil supporting structure, thrusters, and guidance

system moving slowly against a starry backdrop. Suddenly a large meteor appeared

at the edge of the screen, heading directly' for the coilship. It struck, moving

along the inside of the coil and carrying away the thrusters, guidance system,

and all of the central supporting structure for the continuous spiral of

hibernation compartments. The impact shook the coil apart, and the individual

hibernation cylinders, because of the vessel's rotation, went flying off in all

directions like shrapnel from a slow-motion explosion.

Because of the greater rigidity of the structure aft, the shock in this area was

much more severe and the casualties among the hibernating CRLTs were heavy; the

cylinders whose occupants had not survived were shown in red. Then there was a

two-minute shot of the scene as it actually was, with Vespasian, Claudius and

Descartes with a shoal of smaller vessels busy reassembling the coil followed by

a longer sequence, displayed graphically, which showed a modified coilship

coming in to land on a fresh, green world with the two capital ships and

Descartes linked together so as to replace the missing support structure and

thrusters.

The presentation ended by showing the coilship with the missing segments

indicated in throbbing red, then with the red sections removed and the gaps

closed up to make a slightly shorter coil, and the final scene showed the

successful link-up of the first two CRLTs.

As a piece of visual communication it left very little room for

misunderstanding, and Conway did not need Prilicla's em-pathic faculty to tell

him that the message had been under-

stood—the two CRLTs were already moving cautiously toward each other.

"Recorders?" Conway said urgently.

"Running," Murchison said.

Conway held his breath as once again the two massive creatures attempted fusion.

The movements of their stubby, caterpillarlike legs were barely perceptible and

their dorsal appendages were tensely still, making them resemble two enormous,

alien logs being pushed together by the current of an invisible river. When they

were separated by about six inches, the forward face of the rearmost creature

had grown the pattern of bumps and fleshy projections which they had seen during

the first two link-ups, and the rear interface of its companion had twitched

itself into a pattern of fissures and a single deep recess. Around the periphery

of the interface four wide, triangular flaps of muscle tipped with osseus

material, features which had not appeared to be of any importance when examined

on sleeping or dead CRLTs, had grown suddenly to nearly four times their size in

the unconscious state and opened out like fleshy, horn-tipped petals. But with

these two the interfaces did not correspond. They touched, held contact for

perhaps three seconds, then jerked apart.

Before Conway could comment, they were coming together again. This time the

forward creature remained still while the second twisted its forward interface

into a slightly different position to try again, but with the same result.

It was obvious that the contacts were intensely uncomfortable, and the

resultant pain had triggered off the involuntary movement which had jerked them

apart. But the CRLTs were not giving up easily, although it appeared at first as

if they had. They withdrew until their bodies were again inside their

hibernation cylinders, then their stubby legs blurred into motion as they drove

themselves at each other seeking, it seemed, by sheer brute force and bodily

inertia to force a fusion. Conway winced as they came together with a sound like

a loud, multiple slap.

But to no avail. They broke contact to lie a few feet from each other with their

dorsal appendages twitching weakly and air hissing loudly as it rushed in and

out of their breathing orifices. Then slowly they began to move together again.

."They are certainly trying," Murchison said softly.

"Friend Conway," Prilicla said, "the emotional radiation from both creatures has

become more complex. There is deep anxiety but not, I would say, personal fear.

Also a feeling of understanding and great determination, with the determination

predominating. I would say that both entities fully understand the situation and

are desperately anxious to cooperate. But these unsuccessful attempts at fusion

are causing great pain, friend Conway."

It was characteristic of the little empath that it did not mention its own

pain, which was only fractionally less severe than that of the emoting CRLTs.

But the uncontrollable trembling of its pipestem legs and fragile eggshell of a

body spoke more eloquently than words.

"Put them to sleep again," Conway said.

There was silence while the hibernation medication was taking effect, broken

finally by Prilicla who said, "They are losing consciousness, but there is a

marked change in the emotional radiation. They are feeling both anxiety and

hope. I think they are expecting us to solve their problem, friend Conway."

They were all looking at him, but it was Naydrad, whose mobile, silvery fur was

registering its bafflement and concern, who put the question everyone else was

too polite to ask.

"How?"

Conway did not reply at once. He was thinking that two highly intelligent elder

CRLTs from the coilship's stern, following their first abortive attempt at

fusion, would have realized that a link-up was impossible for them. But they had

made two further attempts—one when the rearmost creature had tried to twist

itself and its interface into a new position, and again when it had tried to

achieve fusion by sheer brute force. He was beginning to wonder whether the

recent attempt at communicating with the aliens had been strictly one way.

Until the Descartes linguists could be given the opportunity to learn the CRLTs

language, an accurate exchange of ideas was impossible. But it had already been

shown that pictures were very effective in putting across a message, and they

were all forgetting that actions, like pictures, often spoke louder than words.

Recalling those three unsuccessful attempts at fusion. Con-way wondered if the

two CRLTs had in fact been trying to

demonstrate that the link-up was impossible for them without assistance, but

that by changing the positions and perhaps the dimensions of some of the surface

features on the interfaces and forcing things a little, then a join might be

achieved.

"Friend Conway," Prilicla announced, "is having feelings of optimism."

"Perhaps," Murchison said, "in his own good time, of course, he will explain to

us nonempaths the reason for his optimism."

Ignoring the sarcasm, Conway briefly outlined his recent thinking, although he

personally would have described his feeling as one of forlorn hope rather than

optimism. He went on, "So I believe that the CRLTs were trying to tell us that

surgical intervention is necessary for them to achieve fusion, not brute force.

And it has just occurred to me that there is a precedent for this procedure. One

of the cadavers examined on Rhabwar showed evidence of surgery on its forward

interface and this could mean—"

"But that was a very youthful, although physically mature CRLT," Murchison broke

in, "and the surgery was minor. We agreed that it had probably been performed

for cosmetic reasons."

"I think we were wrong," Conway said. Excitedly he went on, "Consider the

physical organization of this group entity. At the head is the most mature, male

adult and at the tail the most recently born infant, although as we know the

infant grows to physical maturity without separating from the parent. Between

the head and the tail there is a gradual and steady progression from the most

elderly and intelligent male entities down to the increasingly youthful and

female segments which form the tail sections. But Prilicla has reported an

anomaly in this progression. Young CRLTs positioned relatively close to the tail

show evidence of greater physical age and brain development than entities in

the midsections. Until now 1 could see no reason for this anomaly.

"But now let us suppose that this group entity," he continued quickly, "forming

as it does a complete colonization project, has been artificially lengthened.

The extraordinarily large number of individuals in this group entity has always

bothered me, and now there is a simple explanation for it. Let us assume that

there is one head or. more accurately, a fairly large number

of linked elders forming the leading segments, and several tails connected one

behind the other. These would be very youthful tails because it must be much

easier to carry out the surgical modifications on young CRLTs which enable them

to link up. So we have this colonist group entity with intelligence and

experience at its head and linked to a number of young and inexperienced

subgroups forming an artificially lengthened tail. The joins between these

subgroups are surgically assisted and, I feel sure, temporary, because once

established on the target planet they would be able to separate again, and in

time the young heads would grow to full adulthood and the dangers from

inbreeding would be avoided.

"Perhaps the head on this group entity has also been artif-ically extended,"

Conway added, "so as to include elder CRLTs with specialist experience relating

to the colonization project who would be available initially to protect the

younger group entities, and subsequently to teach and train them and pass on the

knowledge of their race's history and science."

Prilicla had flown closer while Conway had been speaking and was hovering a few

inches above the Doctor's head. It said happily, "An ingenious theory, friend

Conway. It fits both the facts as we know them and the type of emotional

radiation received from the beings."

"I agree," Murchison said. "I, too, found difficulty in accepting the extreme

length of this group entity, but the idea of a wise old head acting as guide and

mentor to an as yet unknown number of young tails is much easier to believe.

However, I can't help remembering that it was the head segments which suffered

most of the casualties. Perhaps the head is no longer as wise as it should have

been and an awful lot of vital knowledge has been lost to this multiplegroup

entity."

Colonel Okaussie waited for a moment to see if anyone in the medical team would

speak, then he cleared his throat and said, "Maybe not, ma'am. Most of the head

segments who were killed in the collision were very close to the stern and to

the ship's control and propulsion centres. One could reasonably expect that

these segments were the beings charged with the responsibility for operating the

ship and carrying out the landing maneuvers, functions which are now the

responsibility of the Monitor Corps. It is likely that the scientist and teacher

seg-

ments were positioned a little farther back in the chain and the majority of the

casualties were suffered by the vessel's crew, whose specialist knowledge would

no longer be of vital importance to the colonization project after the vessel

had landed." Before Murchison could reply Naydrad gave an impatient, modulated

growl which translated as "Why don't we stop talking and get on with the job?"

The screen which had been used to communicate with the CRLTs was continuously

displaying distant and close-up views of spacesuited figures of various

physiological classifications busily at work on the final stages of the

coilship's reassembly. Conway could not decide whether Descartes'^ commanding

officer was screening the material to be helpful and informative or as a means

of suggesting, very subtly, that the medical team display a similar degree of

industry. The attempt was a failure in either event, Conway thought, because the

Rhabwar medics were far too busy to look at Okaussie's pictures. They were

concentrating instead on measuring and remeasuring the features on the CRLT

interfaces and charting with their scanners the paths of underlying blood

vessels and the distribution of the nerve ganglia. And with great care and

accuracy they were marking the areas where surgical intervention was possible

without causing either a major hemorrhage or sensory impairment.

It was slow, tedious work and visually not very dramatic. Colonel Okaussie could

be forgiven for thinking that the ambulance ship personnel had gone to sleep on

the job.

"Friend Conway," Prilicla said at one particularly awkward stage, "the physical

differences between these two entities are so marked that I cannot help

wondering if they belong to different subspecies."

All of Con way's attention at that moment was concentrated on what seemed to be

the main sphinctor muscle on the rear interface of the forward CRLT, so that by

the time he was ready to reply Murchison had done it for him.

"In a sense you are right, Doctor Prilicla," she said. "It is a natural result

of their method of reproduction. Think of this forward CRLT when it was the last

and female link in its group-entity chain. In due time it grew to maturity and,

still attached

to its parent, it was fertilized by the male head of another group entity. Its

own infant grew and became mature and in turn produced another, and the process

continued with different male heads adding their individual sets of genes at

every stage. 'The physical connection between any given CRLT and its offspring

is perfect," she continued, "and perfect fusion may even be possible between a

parent and its grandchild or greatgrandchild. But the effect of different males

fertilizing each new endlink in the chain would be cumulative. So it is

understandable when you think about it, Doctor, that the differences between

the fusion interfaces of these two, which were separated by seventeen

intervening segments, are considerable."

"Thank you, friend Murchison," Prilicla said. "My brain seems not to be

functioning properly."

"Probably," Murchison replied in a sympathetic tone, "because your brain is

more than half asleep, like mine." "And mine," Naydrad joined in.

Con way, who had been trying not to think of how long it had been since he had

last eaten or slept, decided that the best way to deal with an impending mutiny

among his overworked medics was to ignore it. He indicated a small area on the

rear interface of the first alien, midway between the central conical depression

and the upper rim of the interface, then pointed to the corresponding area on

the forward face of the second one. He said, "We can safely ignore these

reproductive organs in both creatures, since this kind of link-up is temporary

and physiologically independent of the parent-offspring fusion mechanism. As 1

see it the three areas we must concentrate on are the central conical projection

and its corresponding recess, which are the connecting points for the central

nerve core and our primary concern. Second is this narrow, semirigid tongue with

the fleshy mushroom at its tip which locates with this slit in the other—"

"That connection is also of vital importance," Murchison broke in, "since it

links up the nerve networks controlling the voluntary and involuntary muscles

which move each CRLTs legs and enable the group entity to walk in unison. There

would be small advantage to the group entity if it could share mentation but a

number of its segments were unable to walk." "Friend Murchison," Prilicla said

timidly, "it seems to me that the original nerve impulse from the head segment,

or whichever individual CRLT was responsible for initiating the movement, would

not be sufficiently strong to trigger the ambulatory muscles throughout the

enormous length of this group entity."

"That is true," the pathologist replied. "But there is an organic amplifier,

consisting of a bunching of nerve ganglia situated just above the womb, or the

position where the womb had been in the males, in an area where the surrounding

tissue has a high mineral content and is particularly rich in copper salts. This

biological booster ensures that the ambulatory muscles receive their signals

with undiminished strength throughout the length of the chain."

"Third," Conway said, raising his voice slightly to discourage further

interruptions, "there are these four flaps of muscle which terminate at their

apexes in osseous hooks which locate in these four bone-reinforced orifices in

the second creature. This is the primary mechanism by which the individual

segments are held together nose to tail, and in this instance—"

"It is also the method by which the CRLT female at the end of the line held onto

its developing offspring," Murchison broke in again. "At that stage the

offspring had no choice in the matter. But as it matured, produced its own

offspring, and moved farther up the line I feel sure that voluntary separation

became possible. In fact, separation would be necessary during activities which

did not require the entire group entity for their performance."

"That is most interesting, friend Murchison," Prilicla said. "I should think

that the first time such a voluntary separation took place a certain amount of

psychological trauma would be present. It would be analogous to a coming-of-age

ceremony, perhaps, even though the separation might not be permanent—"

Before Conway could speak, Prilicla fell silent and began trembling in reaction

to the Doctor's feelings of irritation and impatience. He said, "This is all

very interesting, friends, but we do not have the time just now for a general

discussion. In any case, following the type of temporary separation you

mentioned, the young adult would rejoin its original parent segment and not a—I

suppose you could describe it as an ancestor seventeen times removed, which is

the problem currently facing us. And now, if you don't mind, we will concentrate

on this problem and on the surgical procedures necessary to solve it.

"Feel free to interrupt at any time," he added dryly.

But the interruptions were few and pertinent, and very soon it became obvious

even to the watching tractor beamers, Des-cartes's commanding officer, and Fleet

Commander Dermod, whose face appeared briefly but with increasing frequency on

the overhead screen, that the medical team was also working hard.

Because Sector General was the Federation's foremost emergency hospital, the

kind of surgery performed there, whether the patient was Earth-human or

extraterrestrial, tended to be curative rather than cosmetic. It felt very

strange to Conway, and he knew that his feelings were being shared by the other

members of the team, to be operating on a perfectly healthy e-t with the purpose

of simply modifying the size and contours of certain physiological features. But

the operation itself was far from simple.

The greater proportion of the surgical work had to be performed on the second

alien whose forward nerve coupling cone was too wide at its base to be retained

by the sphincter muscle surrounding the corresponding orifice in the first CRLT.

With the semiflexible tongue and groove connection which joined the two beings'

locomotor nerve networks, the solution was much simpler. The deep recess in the

first alien was surgically widened until measurement showed that it would

accommodate the tongue comfortably, after which reinforcing sutures were

inserted to prevent further accidental widening. But the four triangular flaps

with their bony, hooklike extensions posed a completely different and more

difficult problem.

Together the four members formed the principal organic coupling which held the

considerable mass of the second e-t against the first, and they did not fit

because the hooks did not quite reach the apertures meant to receive them.

Elongating the four triangular members was contraindicated since this would have

entailed surgical interference and consequent serious weakening of the muscle

systems concerned, and they could not foresee the effect on the network of blood

vessels which became engorged and extended the members to quadruple their size

when the being returned to consciousness.

Instead they made molds of the four hooks and made artificial ones using a hard,

biologically neutral plastic at the tips and a wide band of thinner, more

flexible material around the bases. The result was a set of hollow, hook-tipped

gloves which, when a little of the original hooks were filed away to make them

fit, were slipped over the original members and secured in position with rivets

and sutures.

Suddenly there was nothing left to do, but hope.

Above the two unconscious CRLTs the vision screen was displaying an overall

picture of their coilship, complete now except for the segments whose occupants

were awaiting surgical attention, and the dense but orderly mass of shipping

moving in and around it. The thought came to Conway, no matter how hard he tried

to avoid it, that the tremendous fleet of Monitor Corps and other units, from

the great capital ships and auxiliaries down to the swarms of scoutships and the

army of specialists in engineering and communications they represented, were

all wasting their time here if this particular operation was not a success.

For this responsibility he had argued long and eloquently with Thornnastor,

O'Mara, and Skempton at Sector General. He must have been mad.

Harshly, he said, "Wake them up."

They watched anxiously as once again the two CRLTs came out of hibernation and

began moving toward each other. They touched once, a brief, exploratory contact,

then they fused. Where there had been two massive, twenty-meter caterpillarlike

creatures there was now one of twice that length.

The join was visible, of course, but one had to look very carefully to see it.

Conway forced himself to wait for ten interminable seconds, and still they had

not pulled away from each other.

"Prilicla?"

"They are feeling pain, friend Conway," the empath replied, trembling slightly.

"It is within bearable limits. There are also feelings of acceptance and

gratitude."

Conway gave a relieved sigh which ended in an enormous, eye-watering yawn. He

rubbed his eyes and said, "Thank you, everyone. Put them back to sleep, check

the sutures, and reseal them in their hibernation cylinders. They will not have

to link up again until after the landing, by which time the wounds should have

healed to a large extent so that the fusion will be more comfortable for them.

As for ourselves, I prescribe eight hours solid sleep before—"

He broke off abruptly as the features of Fleet Commander Dermod appeared on the

screen.

"You appear to have successfully repaired a major break in our alien chain,

Doctor," he said seriously, "but the time taken to do so was not short. There

are many other breaks and we have three days during which a concerted Jump is

possible, Doctor, after which the gravitational distortion effects caused by

that rapidly approaching sun will make an accurate Jump out of the question even

for single ships.

"Should we overrun the three-day deadline," he went on grimly, "single-ship

Jumping within operational safety limits will be possible for an additional

twenty hours. During this twenty-hour period, if the coilship is not to be

abandoned to fall into the sun, it will have to be dismantled into sections

small enough to be accommodated by the hyperspheres of the units available in

the area. This, you will understand, would of necessity be a very hurried

operation and our own accident casualties as well as those of CRLTs would be

heavy?

"What I am saying, Doctor," he ended gravely, "is that if you cannot complete

your organic link-ups within three days, tell me now so that we can begin

dismantling the coilship in a safer and more orderly fashion."

Con way rubbed his eyes and said, "There were seventeen missing segments between

the join which we have just effected, and this makes it the most difficult job

of the lot. The remaining breaks are of two, three, or at most five segments, so

that those linking operations will be correspondingly easier. We know the drill

now and three days should be ample time, barring an unforeseen catastrophe."

"I cannot hold you responsible for one of those, Doctor," the Fleet Commander

said dryly. "Very well. What are your immediate intentions?"

"Right now," Conway said firmly, "we intend to sleep."

Dermod looked vaguely surprised, as if the very concept of sleep was one that

had become alien to him over the past few days, then he nodded grudgingly and

broke contact.

Feeling rested, alert, and much more human—and, of course, more Kelgian and

Cinrusskin—they returned to Descartes's cargo hold to find another two CRLTs

already waiting for them and the remaining segments to be joined clamped to the

outer hull. The Fleet Commander, it was clear, was a man who believed in

maintaining the pressure.

But achieving fusion with these two was remarkably easy. Only two intervening

segments were missing so that the surgery required was minor indeed. The next

pair were more difficult, nevertheless a satisfactory link-up was achieved

within two hours and, with their growing confidence and expertise, this was to

become the average time required for the job. So well did they progress that

they became almost angry with themselves when they were forced to break for

meals or sleep.

Then suddenly they were finished and there was nothing to do but watch the

screen while the last gap in the coil was being closed and hundreds of

spacesuited figures swarmed all over it to give a final check to the sensor

actuators on each hibernation cylinder which would expel their endplates and

initiate resuscitation on landing.

With the exception of Rhabwar and one of Descartes's planetary landers, the

great fleet of scoutships and auxiliaries withdrew to a distance of one and a

half thousand kilometers, which was far enough to relieve the traffic congestion

in the area but close enough for them to return quickly should anything go

wrong.

"I do not foresee anything going seriously wrong at this end," the Fleet

Commander said when the coilship was in one tremendous, spiral piece. "You have

given us enough time, Doctor, to carry out all the necessary pre-Jump

calculations and calibrations. This will be a time-consuming process since our

three vessels, whose hyperspace envelopes will have to be extended to enclose

the coilship, are Jumping in concert. Should a problem arise and we are unable

to make this Jump, the units standing by will move in, dismantle the coilship as

quickly as possible, and Jump away with the pieces and salvage what we can from

this operation.

"There will be enough Monitor Corps medics on these ships to deal with the

expected casualties," he went on, "and for this reason I would like Rhabwar to

leave at once and position itself close to the CRLTs new target planet. If

trouble develops it is much more likely to be at that end."

"I understand," Conway said quietly.

The Fleet Commander nodded. "Thank you, Doctor. From now on this is purely a

transport problem and my responsibility."

Sooner yours than mine, Conway thought grimly as Dermod broke contact.

He was thinking about the Fleet Commander's problem while they were wishing

Colonel Okaussie and the Descartes's tractor beam crew good-by and good luck,

and it remained in his mind after the medical team boarded Rhabwar and the

ambulance ship was heading out to Jump distance from the combined CRLT and

Federation vessels.

Conway understood Dermod's problem all too well and the strong but unspoken

reason why the Fleet Commander wanted the ambulance ship positioned in the

target system. They both knew that the majority of single-ship accidents

occurred because of a premature emergence into normal space when one of the

unfortunate vessel's matched set of hyperdrive generators was out of

synchronization. A single generator pod emerging into normal space while the

rest of the vessel was in the hy-perdimension could tear the ship apart and

leave wreckage strewn across millions of kilometers. Timing, therefore, was

:ritical even on a single ship where only two or perhaps four generators had to

be matched. The Fleet Commander's problem was that Vespasian, Claudius, and

Descartes together with the jnormous coilship of the CRLTs were linked together

by tractor and pressor beams into a single rigid structure.

The Emperor-class cruisers were the largest ships operated by the Monitor Corps,

and each required six generators to move its tremendous mass into and out of

hyperspace, while the survey and cultural contact vessel Descartes needed only

four. I"his meant that sixteen generators in all would be required to perform a

simultaneous Jump and subsequent emergence into normal space. And the problem

was further complicated by the Fact that all of the generators would be

operating under controlled overload conditions because their coombined

hyperspace envelope had to be extended to enclose the : coilship.

As Rhabwar made its Jump into hyperspace Conway was overcome by such an intense,

gnawing anxietty that even Prilicla could not reassure him out of it. He had the

awful feeling that they were about to witness the worst spactdisasaster in

Federation history.

The new home chosen for the CRLIs had been known to the Federation for nearly

two centurie and was listed as a possible colony world for the Chalders.however,

the denizens of Chalderescol Three—a water-breathing life-form resembling an

outsize, tentacled crocodile which combined physical inaction with mental

agility—were not very enthusiastic about it since they already possessed two

colony worlds and their home planet was far from overcrowded So when they

learned of the plight of the CRLT colonists they willlingly relinquished their

claim to a planet which was of marginal interest to them anyway.

It was a warm, pleasant world with a continent, largely desert, encircling its

equator like a wide, ragged belt and two relatively small bands of ocean

separating the equatorial land-mass from the two large continents centred 3 at

each pole; these were green, temperate, and free of icecaps. .

Following exhaustive investigations of tthe cadavers available to them at

Sector General both Murchison and Thornnastor were firmly of the opinion that

this would be an ideal home for the CRLT life-form—moreover it was an

environment which would not force them into periodic hibernation..

The landing area, a large clearing on the shore of a vast, inland sea, had

already been marked with beacons. It awaited only the arrival of the CRLTs—as,

vith mounting anxiety, did the personnel on board Rhabwar. On t the Casualty

Deck Conway and the other members of the medical team each picked a direct

visionport, hoping in some obscure fashion that by watching and worrying hard

they might ensre the safe arrival of the coilship.

It was no surprise, considering the distances involved, that they learned of its

emergence from the Control Room repeaters.

"Trace, sir!" Haslam's voice sounded excitedly. "The bearing is — "

"Are you sure it's them?"

"A single trace that size couldn't be anything else, sir. And yes, the sensors

confirm."

"Very well," the Captain's voice replied, trying unsuccessfully to hide its

relief. "Lock the scope on your radar bearing and give me full magnification.

Dodds, contact astrogation on Vespasian and arrange a rendezvous. Power Room,

stand by."

The rest of the crewmen's conversation was ignored as the medical team crowded

around the Casualty Deck's repeater screen. One look was enough to tell them

that their preparations to receive large numbers of casualties from the expected

emergence accident had been wasted effort, but they did not care because it was

immediately obvious that the concerted Jump had been completely successful.

Centered on the repeater screen was a small, sharp image of the coilship with

its three Monitor Corps vessels spaced along its axis, looking like an exercise

in alien three-dimensional geometry. Vespasian, the stern component, was

already applying thrust, and the three linked ships were beginning to turn

around their longitudinal axes in order to reproduce the original rate of

rotation and centrifugal force conditions ofthe coilship before its accident.

Gradually a voice from Control made itself heard above the sound of the medics'

human and extraterrestrial jubilation.

". . . Rendezvous in four hours thirteen minutes," Haslam was saying. "No

preliminary orbital maneuvering, sir. They intend going straight in."

Rhabwar, in its hypersonic glider configuration, circled the descending coilship

at a distance of three kilometers using its thrusters only when necessary to

maintain the same rate of descent. Rotating slowly and illuminated to near-

incandescent brightness by the system's sun and noontime reflection from the

planet's cloud blanket, it seemed to Conway as if it were boring its way into

the lower reaches of the atmosphere like some gigantic, alien drill. Inside the

enormous, dazzling coil the three Federation ships in their drab service

liveries were virtually invisible except for the flare of Vespasian's thrusters,

which were supporting the weight not only of the coilship but the two vessels

stacked above it. The great alien and Monitor Corps composite continued its

descent until, three kilometers from the surface, tangential thrust was applied

to begin killing its spin.

Vespasian's flare lengthened suddenly and brightened, slowing the descent until

the ship was hovering a meter above the ground. Then simultaneously the

coilship's rotation ceased, Vespasian's stabilizers came to rest on the fused

and blackened soil, and the sternmost segment of the coilship touched down.

For perhaps five seconds nothing happened, then, reacting to the cessation of

spin and the presence of a suitable atmosphere, the sensor-actuators on every

hibernation cylinder performed their function. The endplates which kept the

individual CRLTs apart were ejected to fall like a shower of giant coins to the

ground, and resuscitation of the group entity was initiated. Conway could

imagine the individual CRLTs awakening, stretching, and linking up, the

occupants of close on nine hundred hibernation compartments which had survived

the eighty-seven years past collision. Then he began to worry in case some of

them could not link up and there was an organic log-jam somewhere inside the

coil trapping CRLTs above it...

But within a surprisingly short time the great group entity was leaving its

ship, the leading head segments walking carefully around the fused earth under

Vespasian's stern and toward the vegetation on the edge of the clearing. And,

like an endless, leathery caterpillar the younger segments emerged carrying

equipment and stores and following the tracks of their elders.

When at last the tail was clear of the coilship, the power to the supporting

tractor and pressor beams was gradually reduced so that the towering, open

spiral collapsed slowly onto itself to lie like a great, loose coil of metal

rope on the ground. A few minutes later Vespasian, Claudius, and Descartes took

off and separated, the two capital ships to go into orbit and Descartes to land

again a few kilometers along the shoreline to await formal contact with the CRLT

group entity. Contact would occur, they knew, because the individual CRLTs who

had undergone surgery knew that the beings inside the Federation ships wished

them well and, since the CRLT life-form had shared mentation, the whole group

would be aware of these good intentions.

By this time Rhabwar's lander had also touched down and its medics were on the

surface standing as close as they possibly could to the being who was marching

endlessly past them. Ostensibly they were there to furnish any medical

assistance which might be required. Actually they were simply satisfying their

curiosity regarding a being which must surely have been the strangest life-form

yet encountered.

Conway, as was his wont, was indulging in a bout of postoperative worrying. He

waved, indicating the endless line of dorsal appendages which were either

gathering pieces of edible vegetation or waving back at him, and said, "I

realize that one or more of the head segments must have tried the local

vegetation with no ill effects, and now the whole group entity knows what is

safe to eat, but the procedure seems a bit slapdash to me. And I haven't been

able to spot any of our surgical joins going past. There is bound to be a

certain amount of muscular weakness in those areas, and perhaps an impairment in

sensory communication and—What the blazes is that\"

That was a low, moaning and caterwauling sound which ran up and down the length

of the kilometers-long entity, rising in volume suddenly until it became

deafening. It sounded as if each and every CRLT was suffering intense physical

or mental anguish. But strangely the outpouring of emotional radiation which

must have accompanied it was not bothering Prilicla.

"Do not feel concern," the little empath said. "It is an expression of group

pleasure, gratitude, and relief. They are cheering, friend Conway."

NOTES

Copywrite 1983

THE SECTOR GENERAL SERIES

Hospital Station (1962)

Star Surgeon (1963)

Major Operation (1971)

Ambulance Ship (1979)

Sector General (1983)

Star Healer (1985)

Code Blue-Emergency (1987)

The Genocidal Healer (1992)

The Galactic Gourmet (Tor, 1996)

Final Diagnosis (Tor, 1997)

Mind Changer (br, 1998)

Double Contact (br, 1999)

Species Classification

The Classification System

by Gary Louie

James White's Sector General stories used a unique four letter

classification system that helped describe the species quickly and

effectivly, as one would require when the hospitol is a multi species

enviroment.

Gary Louie was working on a James White concordance. As part of that he

completed a classification system, for the sector general series which

covers all characters up to Final Diagnosis.

This article appeared in the White Papers. Unfortunatly Gary Louie passed

away, before the concordance was completed.

Classification:AACL

Planet:Unknown

Species:Crepellian Pet No Individual Names Known

A non-intelligent pet kept by AMSOs. It has six python-like

ten-tacles which poke though seals in the cloudy plastic of its

suit. The tentacles are each at least twenty feet long and tipped

with a horny substance which must be steel-hard.

Classification:AACP

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown No Individual Names Known

A race whose remote ancestors were a species of mobile vegetable.

They are slow moving, but the carbon dioxide tanks which they wear

seem to be the only protection they need. AACPs do not eat in the

normal manner but plant themselves in specially prepared soil during

their sleep period, and absorb nutriment in that way.

Classification:AMSL

Planet:Unknown

Species:Creppelian, Crepellian

Individuals:Nurse Towan, Diagnostician Vosan

A species of water breathing octopoids.

Classification:AMSO

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown

No Individual Names Known

A larger life-form, in the habit of keeping non-intelligent

AACL-type creatures as pets.

Classification:AUGL

Planet:Chalderescol IT

Species:Chaldor, Chalder

Individuals:Patient AUGL-1 13, Patient AUGL-1 16, Patient AUGL-122,

Patient AUGL-126, Patient AUGL-187, Patient AUGL-193, Patient

AUGL-211, Patient AUGL-218, Patient AUGL-22 1, Patient AUGL-233,

Muromeshomon

The denizens of Chalderescol, an armored fish-like species are

water-breathers who can not live in any other medium for more than a

few seconds. A heavily plated and scaled being, slightly re-sembling

a forty-foot long armour-plated crocodile, except that instead of

legs there is an apparently haphazard arrangement of stubby fins,

and a heavy knife-edged tail. A fringe of ribbon-like tentacles

encircles its middle, projecting through some of the only openings

visible in its organic armor. Chaldors have six rows of teeth in an

over-large mouth. The Chalders are one of the frw in-telligent

species whose personal names are used only between mates, members of

the immediate family, or very special friends.

Classification:BLSU

Planet:Groalter

Species:Groalterri

Individual:Hellishomar the Cutter

The Groalterri overall body configuration is that of a squat

octopoid with short, thick tentacular limbs. Its central torso and

head seem disproportionately large. The eight limbs terminate

alternately in four sets of claws (that will with maturity evolve

into manipula-tory digits) and four flat, sharp-edged, osseous

blades. The organ of speech and hearing is centered above the four

heavily lidded eye that are equally spaced around the cranium. A

macrospecies, there is an element of risk involved to any life-form

of more or less nor-mal body mass which approaches it too closely.

Classification:BRLH

Planet:Tarla

Species:Tarlan

Individuals:Surgeon-Captain/Trainee/Padre Lioren, Sedith and

Wrethrin the Healers

Tarlans are an erect quadrupedal life-form with its for short-legs

supporting a tapering, cone-shaped body. Four long, multi-jointed,

medial arms for heavy lifting and handling sprout from waist-level.

Another four that are suited for more delicate work encircle the

base of the neck. Equally spaced around the head are four eyes whose

stalks are capable of independent motion. Tarlans have very large

teeth. An adult Tarlan stands eight feet tall.

Classification:CLCH

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown

No Individual Names Known

Apparent typographical error for Classification CLHG.

Classification:CLHG

Planet:Drambo

Species:Roller

Individuals:Camsaug, Surreshun

The Rollers resemble animated donuts rolling on their outer edge,

with manipulatory appendages in the form of a fringe ofshort

ten-tacles sprouting from the inner circumference between the series

of gill mouths and eyes. Its visual equipment must operate like a

coeleostat since the contents of its field of vision are constantly

rotating. The Rollers must roll to stay alive-there is an ingenious

method of shifting its center of gravity while keeping itself

upright by partially inflating the section of its body which is on

top at any given moment. The continual rolling causes blood to

circulate-it uses a form of gravity feed system instead of a

muscular pump. The species reproduce hermaphroditically. Each parent

after mating grows twin offspring, one on each side of its bodies

like continu-ous blisters encircling the side walls of a tire.

Injury, disease or the mental confusion immediately following birth

could cause the parent to lose balance, roll on to its side, stop

and die. The points where the children eventually detach themselves

from their par-ents remain very sensitive areas to both generations

and their posi-tions are governed by hereditary factors. The result

is that any close blood relation trying to make mating contact

causes itself and the other being considerable pain. The rollers

really do hate their fa-thers and every other relative. The species

is water-breathing with a warm-blooded oxygen-based metabolism. The

life-support mechanism for the species is physically complicated, to

allow the occupant to roll naturally within it. The concept of

modesty is com-pletely alien to this race. This species does not

know the meaning of sleep. There is no such thing as sleeping,

pretending to be dead or unconsciousness. A Roller is either moving

and alive or still and dead.

Classification:CLSR

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown

No Individual Names Known

Apparent typographical error for Classification CPSD.

Classification:CPSD

Planet:Unknown

Species:The Blind Ones

No Individual Names Known

These beings are roughly circular, just over a meter in diameter

and, in cross section, a slim oval flattened slightly on the

under-side. In shape they very much resemble their ship, except that

the ship does not have a long, thin horn or sting projecting aft or

a wide, narrow slit on the opposite side which is obviously a mouth.

The upper lip of the mouth is wider and thicker than the lower, and

can be curled over the lower lip, apparently sealing the mout shut.

The beings are covered, on their upper and lower surfaces and around

the rim, by some kind of organic stubble which varies in thickness

from pin-size to the width of a small finger. The stubble on the

underside is much coarser than that on the upper surface, and it is

plain that parts of it are designed for ambulation. The Blind Ones

evolved underground, and have no organs for sight. They formed an

alliance with the Protectors of the Unborn, each species providing

something that other lacked.

Classification:CRLT

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown

No Individual Names Known

Senior Physician Conway was unable to classi~ this life-form with

complete certainty. The initial analysis was performed on a cadaver,

an independent portion of a larger composite being. The compos-ite

is a warm-blooded oxygen breather with the type of basic me-tabolism

associated with the physiological grouping CRLT. Even a segment is

massive, measuring approximately twenty meters in length and three

meters in diameter, excluding projecting append-ages. Physically it

resembles the DBLF Kelgian life-form, but it is many times larger

and possesses a leathery tegument rather than the silver fur of the

Kelgians. Like the DBLF's it is multipedal, but the manipulatory

appendages are positioned in a single row along the back. There are

twenty-one of these dorsal limbs, all showing evidence of early

evolutionary specialization. Six of them are long, heavy, and

claw-tipped and are obviously evolved for defense since the being is

a herbivore. The other fifteen are in five groups of three, spaced

between the six heavier tentacles, which terminate in four digits,

two of which are opposable. These thinner limbs are ma-nipulatory

appendages originally evolved for gathering and trans-ferring food

to the mouths-three on each flank opening into three stomachs. Two

additional orifices on each side open into a very large and complex

lung. The structure inside these breathing ori-fices suggests that

expelled air could be interrupted and modulated to produce

intelligence-bearing sounds. On the underside are three openings

used for the elimination of wastes. The mechanism of reproduction is

unclear and the specimen shows evidence of p05-sessing both male and

female genitalia on the forward and rear extremities respectively

The brain, if it is a brain, takes the form of a cable of nerve

ganglia with localized swellings in three places, running

longitudinally through the cadaver like a central core. There is

another and much thinner nerve cable running parallel to the thicker

core, but below it and about twenty-five centimeters from the

underside. Positioned close to each extremity are two sets of three

eyes. Two are mounted dorsally and two on each of the forward and

rear flanks. They are recessed but capable of limited extension;

together they give the being complete and continuous vision

vertically and horizontally. The type and positioning of the visual

equipment and appendages suggest that it evolved on a very

unfriendly world. The tentative Classification is an incomplete CRLT

Classification:DBDG

Planets:Earth, Gregory (Colony)

Species:Earth-human, Gregorian

Individuals:Theologian Augustine, Lieutenant Braithwaite,

Sur-geon-Lieutenant Brenner, Corpsman Briggs, Lieutenant Briggs,

Captain Chaplain Bryson, Lieutenant Carrington, Lieutenant Chen,

Major Chiang, Clarke, Lieutenant Clifton, Junior Intern/Senior

PhysicianlDiagnostician-in-Charge of Surgery Peter Conway, Sergeant

Davis, Major/Colonel Jonathan Dermod, Fleet Commander Dermod,

Lieutenant Dodds, Lieutenant Dowling, Major-Captain Fletcher, Fox,

Trainee Hadley, Harmon, Lieuten-ant Haslam, Patient Hewlitt, Tailor

George L Hewlitt, Mrs. George L Hewlitt, Captain Hokasuri, Major

Holyrod, OR Nurse Hudson, Lieutenant-General Lister, MacEwan, Major

Madden, Captain Mallon, Senior Physician/Diagnostician/Patient

Mannen/Man non, Nurse/Pathologist Murchison, Major Nelson,

Mister/Major/Chief Psychologist O'Mara, Captain Sigvard Nyberg,

Doctor Pelling, General Prentiss, Reviora, Lieutenant-Colonel

Simmons, Colonel Skempton, Surgeon-Lieutenant/Major Stillman,

Lieutenant-Sur-geon Sutherland, Corpsman Timmins, Lieutenant

Wainright, Waring, Corpsman/Colonel-Captain Williamson

Probable Individuals:Lieutenant Carmody, Lieutenant Carson, Section

Chief Caxton, Major Colinson, Major Craythorne, Major Edwards,

Doctor Hamilton, Dietician-in-ChiefKW Hardin, Lieu-tenant Harrison,

Lieutenant Hendricks, Kellerman, Colonel Okaussie, Captain Stillson,

Captain Summerfield, TrooperTeirnan, Surgeon-Captain Telford

This species shows their teeth in a silent snarl when displaying

amusement or friendship and make an unpleasant barking sound that

denotes amusement. The sound, called laughing, in most cases a

psychophysical mechanism for the release of minor degrees of

tension. An Earth-human laughs because of sudden relief from worry

or fear, or to express scorn or disbelief or sarcasm, or in

re-sponse to words or a situation that is ridiculous, illogical or

funny, or out of politeness when the situation or words are not

funny but the person responsible is of high rank. The Earth-human

voice is reputed to be one of the most versatile instruments in the

Galaxy. The Earth-human DBDGs are the only race in the Galactic

Fed-eration with a nudity taboo, and one of the very few member

spe-cies with an aversion to making love in public. The Earth-human

DBDGs make up the majority of the Monitor Corps forces.

Classification:DBDG

Planets:Etlan Empire, Central World (Capital), Imperial Etla

(Capital), Etla, Etla the Sick (Colony)

Species:Etlan, Imperial

Individuals:Heraltnor, Imperial Representative Teltrenn

The physiology of the citizens of the Empire is the same as the

population of their colony Etla. The physiological resemblance is so

close to Earth-human DBDGs that no other disguise other than native

language and dress is needed. There are theories about a prehistoric

colonization program by common, star-travelling an-cestors. Attempts

at procreation between Earth-human DBDGs and Etlans have been

unsuccessful.

Classification:DBDG

Planet:Nidia

Species:Nidian

Individuals:Chief of Procurement Creon-Emesh, Senior Physi-cian and

Tutor Cresk-Sar, Surgeon-Lieutenant Dracht-Yur, Lieu-tenant-Colonel

Dragh-Nin, Senior Physician Lesk-Murog, Senior Food Technician

Sarnyagh-Sa, Yoragh-Kar

Probable Individual:Surgeon-Lieutenant Krack-Yar

The Nidians have seven-fingered hands, stand only four feet tall.

They have a thick red fur coat, and look like a very cuddly

teddy-bear.

Classification:DBDG

Planet:Orligia

Species:Orlig, Orligian

Individuals:Grawlya-Ki/Grulyaw~Ki, Surgeon-Lieutenant Krach-Yul,

Major Sachan-Li, Colonel Shech-Rar, Surgeon-Lieutenant Turragh-Mar

Like the neighboring Nidians, Orligians resemble an Earth-hu-man

child's first non-adult friend's teddy bear.

Classification:DBLF

Planet:Ia

Species:Ian (pre-adolescent)

No Individual Narnes Known

The being appears ring-shaped, rather like a large balloon tire.

Overall diameter of the ring is about nine feet, with the thickness

between two and three feet. The tegument is smooth, shiny and grey

in color where it is not covered with a thick, brownish

incrus-tation. The brown stuff, which covers more than half of the

total skin area, looks cancerous, but may be some type of natural

cam-ouflage. There are five pairs of limbs, and no evidence

ofspecial-ization. No visual organs or means of ingestion can be

seen. The being isn't a doughnut, but possesses a fairly normal

anatomy of the DBLF type~a cylindrical, lightly-boned body with

heavy musculature. The being is not ring-shaped, but gives that

impres-sion because for some reason, known best to itself, it has

been try-ing to swallow its tail. Senior Physician Conway, convinced

all along that the patient is undergoing a natural metamorphosis,

observes that the new patient, after the process is complete, is of

classifica-tion GKNM.

Classification:DBLF

Planet:Kelgia

Species:Kelgian

Individuals:Patient Henredth, Senior Physician Karthad, Charge Nurse

Kursedd, Diagnostician Kursedth, Patient Morredeth, Charge Nurse

Naydrad, Fleet Commander Roonardth, Charge Nurse Segroth,

Diagnostician Suggrod, Student Nurse Tarsedth, Diagnostician Towan,

Senior Physician Yarrence

Probable Individual:Charge Nurse Kursenneth

Kelgians are warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing, multipedal, and with a

long, flexible cylindrical body covered overall by highly mobile,

silvery fur. The Kelgian forelimbs have three digits. There are

twenty sets of short, thin, and not heavily muscled walking limbs.

The feet, which have no toe-nails or other terminations, are like

small, hard sponges.The fur moves continually in slow ripples from

the conical head right down to the tail. These are completely

involuntary movements triggered by its emotional reactions to

outside stimuli. The evolutionary reasons for this mechanism are not

clearly understood, not even by the Kelgians themselves, but it is

generally believed that the emotionally expressive fur comple-ments

the Kelgian vocal equipment, which lacks emotional flex-ibility of

tone.The movements of the fur make it absolutely clear to another

Kelgian-what a Kelgian feels about the subject under discussion. As

a result they always say exactly what they mean be-cause what they

think is plainly obvious-at least to another Kelgian.They can not do

otherwise. Kelgians have an intense aver-sion towards any surgical

procedure which would damage or dis-figure its most treasured

possession, its furs. To a Kelgian the re moval of a strip or patch

of fur, which in their species represents ~ means of communication

equal to the spoken word, is a personal tragedy which all too often

results in permanent psychological damage. A Kelgian's fur does not

grow again and one whose pelt is damaged can rarely find a mate

because it is unable to fully display its feelings. Kelgians are

very close to Earth-humans in both basic metabolism and temperament.

Except for the thin-walled, narrow casing which houses the brain,

the DBLF species has no boney structure. Their bodies are composed

of an outer cylinder of mus-culature which, in addition to be being

its primary means of loco-motion, serves to protect the vital organs

within it. To the mind of a being more generously reinforced with

bones, this protection is far from adequate. Another severe

disadvantage in the event of in-jury is its complex and extremely

vulnerable circulation system; the blood-supply network which has to

feed the tremendous bands of muscle encircling its body runs close

under the skin, as does the nerve network that controls the mobile

fur. The thick fur of the pelt gives some protection here, but not

against chunks ofjagged-edged, flying metal. An injury which many

other species would consider superficial could cause a DBLF to bleed

to death in min-utes. Kelgians are herbivorous.

Classification:DBPK

Planet:Dwerla

Species:Dwerlan

No Individual Names Known

A warm-blooded oxygen-breathing herbivore that does not walk

upright. Judging by the shape of the spacesuits, the beings are

flat-tened cylinders about six feet long with four sets of

manipulatory appendages behind a conical section which is probably

the head, and another four locomotor appendages. Apart from the

smaller size and number of appendages, the beings physically

resemble the Kelgian race. The pointed, fox-like head and the thick,

broad-striped coat make it look like a furry, short-legged zebra

with an enormous tail. These beings seem not to possess natural

weapons of offrnce or defense, or any signs of having had any in the

past. Even their limbs are not built for speed, so they can not run

from danger. The set used for walking are too short and are padded,

while the fotward set are more slender, less well-muscled and end in

four highly flexible digits which don't possess so much as a

fingernail among them. There are the fur markings, of course, but it

is rare that a life-form rises to the top of its evolutionary tree

by camou-flage alone, or by being nice and cuddly. The species has

two sexes, male and female, and the reproductive system seems

relatively nor-mal. Both sexes use a water soluble dye to enhance

artificially the bands of color on their body fur~clearly the dyes

are for cosmetic reasons. The immature do not use dyes, but use a

brownish pig-ment on a bare patch above the tail.

Classification:DCNF

Planet:Sommaradva

Species:Sommaradvan

Individual:Trainee Cha Th rat

Four Ambulatory limbs; Four waist-level heavy manipulators; and a

set of manipulators for food provisions and fine work encircling the

neck. This being has two stomachs. Sommaradvan society is stratified

into three levels~serviles, warriors, and rulers~which strictly

govern how an individual acts within the society.

Classification:DCSL

Planet:Cromsag

Species:Cromsaggar

No Individual Names Known

This species has three sets of limbs: two ambulators, two medial

heavy manipulators, and two more at neck level for eating and to

perform more delicate work. It has a cranium covered by thick, blue

fur that continues in a narrow strip along the spine to the

vestigial tail.

Classification:DHCG

Planet:Wemar

Species:Wem

Individuals:First Hunter Creethar, Hunter Druuth, Youth Evemth,

First Cook Remrath, First Teacher Tawsar

The Wem life-form is a warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing species with

an adult body mass just under three times that of an Earth-human

and, since Wermar's surface gravity is one point three eight

standard Gs, a healthy specimen is proportionately well-muscled. It

resembles the rare Earth beast called a kangaroo. The differences

are that the head is larger and fitted with a really ferocious set

of teeth; each of the two short forelimbs terminate in six-fingered

hands possessing two opposable thumbs, and the tail is more massive

and tapered to a wide, flat triangular tip composed of immobile

osseous material enclosed by a thick, muscular sheath. The

flattening at the end of tail serves a threefold purpose: as its

principal natural weapon, as an emergency method of fast locomotion

while hunting or being hunted, and as a means of transporting infant

Wem who are too small to walk. The Wem hunt by adopting an awkward,

almost ri-diculous stance with their forelimbs tightly folded, their

chins touch-ing the ground, and their long legs spread so as to

allow the tail to curve sharply downwards and forwards between the

limbs so that the flat tip is at their center of balance. When the

tail is straight-ened suddenly to full extension, it acts as a

powerful third leg ca-pable of hurling the Wem forward for a

distance of five or six body lengths. If the hunter does not land on

top of its prey, kicking the creature senseless with the feet before

disabling it with a deep bite through the cervical vertebrae and

underlying nerve trunks, it piv-ots rapidly on one leg so that the

flattened edge of the tail strikes its victim like a blunt, organic

axe. While the tail is highly flexible where downward and forward

movement is concerned, it cannot be el-evated above the horizontal

line of the spinal column.The back and upper flanks are, therefore,

the Wem's only body areas that are vul-nerable to attack by natural

enemies, who must also possess the el-ement of surprise if they are

not to become the victim.

Classification:DRVJ

Species:Name Unknown

Individual:Doctor Yeppha

Planet:Unknown

A small, tripedal, fragile being. From the furry dome of its head

there sprout singly and in small clusters, at least twenry eyes.

Classification:DTRC

Species:Rhum

Planet:Unknown

Individual:Crelyarrel

Flat, roughly circular beings, dark gray and wrinkled on one

sur-face, and with a paler, mottled appearance on the other, smooth,

surface. The beings attach to their FGHJ hosts with thick tendrils

growing from the edge of the disk. The tendrils penetrate into their

FGHJ hosts' spinal columns and rear craniums. The DTRCs have their

own special needs that in no way resemble those of their hosts,

whose animal habits and undirected behavior are highly repugnant to

them. It is vital to the DTRCs continued mental well-being that the

masters escape periodically from their hosts to lead their own

lives~usually during the hours of darkness when the tools are no

longer in use and can be quartered where they can not harm

them-selves.

Classification:DTSB

Planet:Traltha

Species:Tralthan

No Individual Names Known

Apparent typographical error for Classification OTSB.

Classification:EGCL

Planet:Duwetz

Species:Dewatti

No Individual Names Known

A warm-blooded, oyxgen-breathing life-form of approximately twice

the body weight of an adult Earth-human. Visually it re-sembles an

outsize snail with a high, conical shell which is pierced around the

tip where its four extensible eyes are located. Equally spaced

around the base of the shell are eight triangular slots from which

project the manipulatory appendages. The carapace rests on a thick,

circular pad of muscle which is the locomotor system. Around the

circumference of the pad are a number of fleshy pro-jections,

hollows and slits associated with its systems of ingestion,

respiration, elimination, reproduction, and nonvisual sensors. The

EGCLs are organic empaths. They are organic transmitters,

reflec-tors and focusers and magnifiers of their own feelings and

those of the beings around them. The faculty has evolved to the

stage where they have no conscious control over the process.

Classification:ELNT

Planet:Melf Four

Species:Melfan

Individuals:Maintenance Technician Dremon, Senior Physician Edanelt,

Diagnostician Ergandhir, Patient Kennonalt, Patient KIetilt,

Maintenance Technician Kiedath, Nurse Lontallet, Senior Physician

Medalont, Senreth

Melfans are large, low slung crab-like crustaceans. The six thin,

bony, tubular, multi-jointed legs project from slits where the bony

carapace and underside join. The legs and all of the body are

ex-oskeletal. The head has large, protruding, vertically-lidded

eyes, enormous mandibles, and pincers projecting forward from the

place where ears should be. Two long, thin and fragile feelers grow

from the sides of the mouth. The species is amphibious.

Classification:EPLA

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown

Individual:Lonvellin

Apparent typographical error for Classification EPLH.

Classification:EPLH

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown

Individual:Lonvellin

The being is large, about one thousand pounds mass, and resembles a

giant, upright pear. Five thick, tentacular appendages grow from the

narrow head section and a heavy apron of muscle at its base gives

evidence of a snail-like, although not necessarily slow, method of

locomotion. The being is warm-blooded and has fairly normal gravity

requirements. Five large mouths are situated below the root of each

tentacle, four being plentifully supplied with teeth and the fifth

housing the vocal apparatus. The tentacles themselves show a high

degree of specialization at their extremities: three of them are

plainly manipulatory, one bears the patient's visual equipment, and

the remaining member terminates in a horn-tipped, boney mace. The

head is featureless, being simply an osseous dome housing the brain.

The cranium is pierced at regular intervals for visual, aural and

olfactory sensors. Their life-span, lengthy to begin with, is

ar-tificially extended. Because they have tremendous minds, they

have plenty of time, but they constantly have to fight against

boredom. Because part of the price of such longevity is an

ever-growing fear of death, they need to have their own personal

physicians~no doubt the most efficient practitioners of medicine

known to them-constantly in attendance.

Classification:FGHJ

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown

No Individual Names Known

The being has six limbs, four legs and two arms, all very heavily

muscled, and is hairless except for a narrow band of stiff bristles

running from the top of the head along the spine to the tail, which

seems to have been surgically shortened at an early age. The body

configuration is a thick cylinder of uniform girth between the fore

and rear legs, but the forward torso narrows towards the shoulders

and is carried erect. The neck is very thick and the head small.

There are two eyes, recessed and looking forward, a mouth with very

large teeth, and other openings that are probably aural or olfactory

sense organs. The legs terminate in large, reddish-brown hooves.

Each hoof has four digits and does not appear particularly

dexterous. This creature serves as a host to beings of

Classification DTRC.

Classification:FGLI

Planet:Traltha

Species:Tralthan

Individuals:Patient Cossunallen, Crajarron, Chief Dietitian

Gurronsevas, Patient Horrantor, Senior Physician Hossantir,

Surriltor, Senior Diagnostician-in-Charge of Pathology Thorn-nastor

A massive entity with an osseous dome housing its brain, six

el-ephantine feet connected to its triple massive shoulders, and

four extensible eyes on an immobile head. Its six stubby legs

normally give the Tralthan species such a stable base they

frequently go to sleep standing up. Even healthy Tralthans have

great difficulty get-ting up again if they fall onto their sides.

Tralthans must not be rolled onto their backs under normal gravity

conditions since this causes organic displacement which would

increase their respira-tory difficulties. Standard gravity at Sector

General is just over half Tralthan normal. Tralthans are

vegetarians.

Classification:FOKT

Planet:Goglesk

Species:Gogleskan

Individuals:Healer '(hone and child

The Gogleskan FOKT resembles a large, dumpy cactuslike plant whose

spikes and hair are richly colored in a pattern which seems less

random the more you look at it. A faint smell comes from the entity,

a combination of musk and peppermint. The mass of un-ruly hair and

spikes covering its erect, ovoid body are less irregular in their

size and placing than is at first apparent. The body hair has

mobility, though not the high degree of flexibility and rapid

mo-bility of the Kelgian fur, and the spikes, some of which are

extremely flexible and grouped together to form a digital cluster,

give evi-dence of specialization. The other spikes are longer and

stiffer, and some of them seem to be partially atrophied, as if they

were evolved for natural defense, but the reason for their presence

has long since gone. There are also a number of long, pale tendrils

lying amid the multicolored hair covering the cranial area, used for

contact telepa-thy. Its voice seems to come from a number of small,

vertical breath-ing orifices which encircles its waist. The being

sits on a flat, mus-cular pad, and it has legs as well. These

members are stubby and concertina-like, and when the four of them

are in use they increase the height of the being by several inches.

The being al50 has two additional eyes at the back of its

head~obviously this species has had to be very watchful in

prehistoric times.

Classification:FROB

Planet:Hudlar

Species:Hudlar, Hudlarian

Individuals:Patient FROB-3, Patient FROB-lO, Patient FROB-18,

Patient FROB-43, Patient FROB-1 132, Trainee FROB-61, Trainee

FROB-73, Senior Physician Garoth, Infant Patient Metiglesh

Hudlars are blocky, pear-shaped beings whose home planet pulls four

Earth gravities and has a high-density atmosphere so rich in

suspended animal and vegetable nutrients that it resembles thick

soup. Although the FROB life-form is warm-blooded and techni-cally

an oxygen-breather, it can go for long periods without air if its

food supply, which it absorbs directly through its thick but highly

porous tegument, is adequate. Hudlars are massive six legged

be-ings. Each leg is an immensely strong tapering tentacle, which

ter-minates in a cluster of flexible digits, curled inward so that

the weight is born on heavy knuckles and the fingers remain clear of

the floor. The two lidless, recessed eyes are protected by hard,

trans-parent and featureless casings. Hudlars communicate using a

speak-mg membrane, which grows like a cock's comb from the top of

the head. The speaking membrane also serves as a sound sensor. The

skin resembles a seamless covering of flexible armor in appearance

and texture. Food is ingested through organs of absorption that

cover both flanks and the wastes are eliminated by a similar

mecha-nism on the underside. Both systems are under voluntary

control. Because of the physiological necessity for avoiding further

sexual contact with its life-mate, a gravid Hudlar female changes

gradu-ally into male mode and, concurrently, its life-mate slowly

becomes female. A Hudlar year after partuition the changes to both

are com-plete.The Hudlar FROBs are acknowledged to be, physically,

stron-gest life-forms of the Galactic Federation and to have the

least-pervious body tegument. Contact with chlorine is instantly

lethal to them. Hudlar blood is yellow and circulates under great

pres-sure and pulse rate. Hudlars consider their names to be their

most private and personal possession, and do not give or use their

names in the presence of anyone who is not a member of the family or

a close friend.

Classification:FSOJ

Planet:Unknown

Species:Protectors of the Unborn

No Individual Names Known

The Protector of the Unborn is a large, immensely strong life-form

that resembles aTralthan, but is less massive with stubbier legs

pro-jecting from a hemispherical carapace flared out slightly around

the lower edges. The deployment of the legs and tentacles is

simi-lar to the Hudlar FROB life-form, but the carapace is a thicker

ELNT Melfan shell without markings, and the FSOJ is plainly not

herbivorous. From openings high on the carapace sprout four

ten-tacles. Two different types of tentacles have been observed on

dif-ferent beings: long and particularly thin tentacles which

terminate in flat, spear-like tips with serrated boney edges, and

thick tentacles terminating in a cluster ofsharp, bony projections

which make them resemble spiked clubs. The four stubby legs also

have osseous pro-jections which enable them to be used as weapons as

well. Midway between two of the tentacle openings there is a larger

gap in the carapace from which protrudes a head, all mouth and

teeth. The large upper and lower mandibles are capable of deforming

all but the strongest metal alloys. A little space is reserved for

two well-protected eyes at the bottom of deep, boney craters. A

serrated tail also protrudes from the heavily slitted carapace.

While the under-side is not armored, as is the carapace, this area

is rarely open to attack, and it is covered by a thick tegument

which apparently gives sufficient protection. In the center of this

area is a thin, longitudi-nal fissure which opens into the birth

canal. It will not open, how-ever, until a few minutes before giving

birth. The FSOJ brain is not in its skull, but deep inside the torso

with the rest of the other vital organs. It is positioned just under

the womb and surrounding the beginning of the birth canal. As a

result, the brain is compressed as the embryo grows. If it is a

difficult birth, the parent's brain is destroyed and junior comes

out fighting, with a convenient food supply available until it can

kill something for itself Senior Physi-cians Conway's first

impression was that the entity was little more than an organic

killing machine. Considering the fact that it is warm-blooded and

oxygen-breathing, and its appendages show no evidence of the ability

to manipulate tools or materials, Patholo-gist Murchison tentatively

classified it as FSOJ and probably non-intelligent. The Unborn young

of the bisexual FSOJ is retained in the womb until it is well-grown

and fully equipped to survive. The Unborn is an intelligent and

telepathic being, but loses these fac-ulties at birth.

Classification:GKNM

Planet:Ia

Species:Ian (adult)

Individual:Patient Makolli

The metamorphosed form of the adolescent DBLF life-form. The species

created a colony in this galaxy, coming from an adjoining one. The

race is oxygen-breathing and oviparous, having a long, rod-like but

flexible body, and possessing four insectile legs, ma-nipulators,

the usual sense organs, and three tremendous sets of wings. The

life-form looks something like a large dragonfly.

Classification:GLNO

Planet:Cinruss

Species:Cinrusskin

Individual:Senior Physician Prilicla

Cinrusskins are enormous, incredibly fragile flying insects, with a

tubular exoskeletal body. Six sucker-tipped pencil-thin legs, four

even more delicately fashioned, tiny, precise manipulators, and four

sets ofwide, iridescent, and almost transparent wings project form

the body. The head is a convoluted eggshell, so finely structured

that the sensory and manipulatory organs that it supports seem ready

to fall off at the first sudden movement. The eyes are large and

triple-lidded. The Cinrusskin are the Federation's only empathic

race. Cinruss has a dense atmosphere and one-eighth gravity.

Cinrusskins are sexless.

Classification:LSVO

Planet:Nallaji

Species:Nallajim

Individuals:Kytili, Senior Physician Seldal

The species has a birdlike, fragile, low-gravity physiology, with

three legs, two not-quite-atrophied wings, and no hands at all. When

LSVOs eat, they are sickened by anything which doesn't look like

bird seed.

Classification:MSVK

Planet:Euril

Species:Eurils

No Individual Names Known

Fragile, tn-pedal, stork-like beings from a low gravity world. The

MSVK environment has dim lighting and a opaque fog for an

at-mosphere. The race is driven by an intense curiosity and hampered

by extreme caution. They are the galaxy's prime observers, and are

content to look and learn and record through their long-probes and

sensors without making their presence known. MSVKs have a low

tolerance to radiation.

Classification:OTSB

Planet:Traltha

Species:Tralthan

No Individual Names Known

Tralthan Surgeons are really two beings instead of one, a

combina-tion of FGLI and OTSB.The OTSB is a nearly mindless symbiont

which lives with its FGLI host. At first glance the OTSB looks like

a furry ball sprouting a long ponytail, but a closer look shows that

the ponytail is composed of scores of fine manipulators, most of

which incorporate sensitive visual organs. A cluster of wire-thin,

eye- and sucker-tipped tentacles sends infinitely detailed visual

in-formation to its giant host and receives instructions from the

host. The Tralthan combinations are the best surgeons the Galaxy has

ever known. Not all Tralthans choose to link up with a symbiote, but

FGLI medics wear them like a badge of office.

Classification:PVGJ

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown

Individual:Doctor Fremvessith

Apparent typographical error for Classification PVSJ.

Classification:PVSJ

Planet:Illensa

Species:Illensan

Individuals:Senior Physician Gilvesh, Charge Nurse Hredlichi,

Diagnostician Lachlichi, Charge Nurse Leethveeschi

Probable Individual:Charge Nurse Lentilatsar

Illensans are chlorine breathers with shapeless spiny bodies and

dry, rustling membranes joining the upper and lower appendages. The

body resembles a haphazard collection of oily, yellow-green,

un-healthy vegetation. The two stubby legs are covered by what look

like oily blisters. Their loose protective suits are transparent

except for the faint yellow fog of chlorine contained within. The

Illensans are generally held to be the most visually repulsive

beings in the Federation, as well as the most vain regarding their

own physical appearance. Illensans suffer digestive upsets if they

exercise after meals. Contact with water is instantly lethal to

chlorine-breathers. PVSJs are not physiologically suited to the use

of stairs and have very sensitive hearing.

Classification:QCQL

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown

No Individual Names Known

Apparent typographical error for Classification QLCL. Senior

Phy-sician Mannen did not know there was any such beastie, but

Ma-jor O'Mara had a tape. There were two casualties of this

classifica-tion at Sector General. The operations were suit jobs,

since the gunk that the QCQLs breath would kill anything that walks,

crawls or flies, excluding them.

Classification:QLCL

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown

No Individual Names Known

Recent, and very enthusiastic, members of the Federation, this

species had never been to Sector General until the war with the

Empire. Then a small ward was prepared to receive possible QLCL

casualties. The ward was filled with the horribly corrosive fog the

QLCLs used for an atmosphere, and the lighting was stepped up to the

harsh, actinic blue which the they consider restful.

Classification:SNLU

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name: Vosan

Individual:Diagnostician Semlic

The SNLU life form requires a refrigerated life-support system for

its ultra-low-temperature environment while on the Chlorine and

Oxygen levels. A frigid-blooded methane-breather, it is most

com-fortable in an environment only a few degrees above absolute

zero. The SNLUs have a complex mineral and liquid crystalline

struc-ture. The species evolved on the perpetually dark worlds which

detached from their original solar systems and now drift through the

interstellar spaces. Physically they are quite small, averaging

one-third the body mass of a being like a Kelgian. In order to allow

contact with other, warmer, species, the SN LUs are required to wear

a large, complex, highly refrigerated life-support and sensor

trans-lation system, which requires frequent power recharge. The

scales covering the SNLU's eight-limbed, starfish-shaped body shine

coldly through the methane mist like multihued diamonds, mak-ing it

resemble some wondrous, heraldic beast. The SNLUs live and work in

the almost total silence of beings with a hypersensitiv-ity to

audible vibrations. These fragile, crystalline, methane-based

life-forms would decompose at temperatures in excess of eighteen

degrees above absolute zero and be instantly cremated if the

tem-perature rose above minus one-twenty on the temperature scale in

use in the Federation.

Classification:SRJH

Planet:Drambo

Species:Healers or Physicians or Protectors

No Individual Names Known

The Drambon Physicians are glorified leucocytes to the Drambon

Strata Creatures, treating the many independent organisms living in

and around those immense living carpets. The stupid, slow moving

Drambon Physicians stay close to the most active and dan-gerous

stretches of the Drambon shoreline. They resemble jelly-fish, so

transparent that only their internal organs are visible. A

leech-like form of life, the SRJHs seem comfortable in either air or

water. Their reactions in the presence of severe illness or injury

are instinctive. Using their spines or stings, they practice their

profes-sion by withdrawing the blood of their patients and pun fying

it of any infection or toxic substances before returning it to the

patients' bodies. (The process repairs simple physical damage as

well.) How-ever, not all the withdrawn blood is returned. It has not

been es-tablished whether it is physiologically impossible for the

SRJH to return it all or whether the Physician retains a few ounces

as pay-ment for services rendered. A Physicians can kill as well as

cure. It can barely touch a beast, causing a predator to go into a

muscular spasm so violent that parts of its skeleton pop through the

skin. There is no evidence that they communicate verbally, visually,

tac-tually, telepathically, by smell or by any other system known to

Sector General. The quality of their emotional radiation suggests

that they do not communicate at all in the accepted sense. The

Physicians are simply aware ofother beings and objects around them

and, by using their eyes and a mechanism similar to the empathic

faculty, they are able to identi~ friend and foe.

Classification:SRTT

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown

No Individual Names Known

This physiological type is amoebic, possessing the ability to

extrude any limbs, sensory organs or protective tegument necessary

to the environment in which it finds itself. It is so fantastically

adaptable that it is difficult to imagine how one of these beings

could ever fall sick in the first place.

Classification:TLTU

Planet:Threcald 5

Species:Name Unknown

Individual:TLTU Diagnostician

A TLTU doctor breathes superheated steam and has pressure and

gravity requirements three times greater than the environment of the

oxygen levels. The local protection needed by a TLTU doctor is a

great, clanking juggernaut which hisses continually as if it is

about to spring a leak. The large protective suit resembles a

spheri-cal pressure boiler bristling with remote handling devices

and mounted on caterpillar treads, and has to be avoided at all

costs. The large size is needed to allow for heaters to render the

occupant comfortable, and surface insulation and refrigerators to

keep the vicinity habitable by other life-forms. The small TLTU

life-form inhabits a heavy-gravity, watery planet with edible

minerals, which circles very close to its parent sun. The TLTU's

blood consists of superheated liquid metal. TLTU patients are

transported in their protective spheres anchored to stretcher

carriers. These spheres emit a high-pitched, shuddering whine as

their generators labor to main-tain the internal temperature at a

comfortable, for their occupants, five hundred degrees.

Classification:TOBS

Planet:Fotawn

Species:Name Unknown

Individual:Trainee/Doctor Danalta

This being can extrude any limbs, sense organs, or protective

tegu-ment necessary to the environment or situation in which it

finds it-self. It evolved on a planet with a highly eccentric orbit,

and with climatic changes so severe that an incredible degree of

physical adapt-ability was necessary for survival. It became

dominant on its world, and developed intelligence and a

civilization, not by competing in the matter of natural weapons but

by refining and perfecting its adap-tive capability. When it is

faced by natural enemies, the options are flight, protective

mimicry, or the assumption of a shape frightening to the attacker.

The speed and accuracy of the mimicry, particularly in the almost

perfect reproduction ofbehavior patterns, suggests that the entity

may be a receptive empath. The empathic faculty is under voluntary

control, so that the level of emotional radiation reaching its

receptors can be reduced, or even cut off at will, should it become

too distressing. With such effective means of self-protection

avail-able, the species is impervious to physical damage other than

by com-plete annihilation or application of ultrahigh

temperatures.The con-cept of curative surgery would be a strange one

indeed to members of that race. They do not require mechanisms for

self-protection, so they are likely to be advanced in the

philosophical sciences but back-ward in developing technology. When

not trying to look like some-thing else, TOBSs take the

configuration of a large, dark-green, uneven ball.

Classification:TRLH

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown

No Individual Names Known

The TRLH casualty was an ally of the Empire during that war.

Classification was aided by the fact that the patient's spacesuit

was transparent as well as flexible. The atmosphere the being

breathes is as exotic as that of the QCQLs, but can be reproduced.

The TRLH has a thin carapace which covers its back and curves down

and inwards to protect the central area of its underside. Four

thick, single-jointed legs project from the uncovered sections. It

has a large but lightly boned head, four manipulatory appendages,

two recessed but extensible eyes, and two mouths.

Classification:VTXM

Planet:Telf

Species:Telfi, Telphi

Individual:Astrogator-part Cheixic

A group-mind species whose small beetle-like bodies live by the

direct conversion of various combinations and intensities of hard

radiation. Mthough individually the beings are quite stupid, the

gestalt entities are highly intelligent. The Telfi operate in groups

as contact telepaths to pool their mental and physical abilities.

The Telfi have a spoken language as well as the telepathic faculty

used between individuals, especially members of a family gestalt.

An-other variant of the species resembles a large, terrestrial

lizard, just under five feet long from the bulbous head to vestigial

tail, with an extra set of fore-limbs growing from the base of the

neck. The only visible features are two tiny, lidless eyes and the

mouth. The four stubby walking limbs can be bent double to lie flat

against the body while the two, longer forward manipulators can

stretch forward and cross so as to allow the chin to rest on the

crossover point. The skin of a dead Telfi is pale gray with a

mottled and veined effect that resembles unpolished marble. The

color is a symptom of ad-vanced radiation starvation and a lethal

failure of the absorption mechanism. A healthy Telfi reflects no

light at all, looking like liz-ard-shaped black holes. A

healthyTelfi's temperature is below room temperature. Investigating

their ultra-hot metabolism closely is to risk radiation poisoning.

There is a fallacy among non-medics that the Telfi cannot be closely

approached or touched without the use of remotely controlled

manipulators. To live they must absorb the radiation normally

provided by their natural environment but when, for clinical

reasons, the radiation is withdrawn for several days and they are

week from their equivalent of hunger, their ra-dioactive emissions

drop to a harmless level.

Classification:VUXG

Planet:Unknown

Species:Name Unknown

Individual:Dr. Arretapec

The VUXG resembles nothing so much as a withered prune float-mg in a

spherical gob of syrup. The species has telepathic, teleportive,

and~sort of~precognitive abilities. The precognitive ability does

not appear to be of much use because it does not work with

individuals but only with populations, and so far in the fu-ture and

in such a haphazard manner that it is practically useless.

Classification:Unknown

Planet:Drambo

Species:Farmer Fish

No Individual Names Known

The large-headed Farmer Fish are responsible for cultivating and

protecting benign growth and destroying all other growth in the

Drambon Strata Creature. Farmer Fish have stubby arms sprout-ing

from the base of their enlarged heads.

Classification:Unknown

Planet:Drambo

Species:Strata Creatures

No Individual Names Known

The largest creature on the planet Drambo~so large that at a

scoutship's suborbital velocity of six thousand plus miles per hour

it takes just over nine minutes to travel from one side of the

pa-tient to the other. The creature is so vast that it has many

indepen-dent parts performing specialized functions, such as the eye

plants, air renewal plants, Farmer Fish, Thought Controlled Tools,

and vegetable teeth. The parts can communicate via a mineral-rich

sap. The creature uses water instead of blood as its working fluid.

It is not clear if the entire creature is an animal or a plant,

there being components of both in its immense expanse. There is only

one intelligent Strata Creature on Drambo, and it is being treated

for radiation poisoning.

Classification:Unknown

Planet:Drambo

Species:Thought Controlled Tools

No Individual Names Known

Under the mental control of its user, a "tool" can assume any

use-ful shape imagined. At Sector General, one appeared as a Hudlar

type six scalpel, a medium-sized box spanner, a metallic sphere, a

miniature bust of Beethoven, a set of Tralthan dentures, and a

Hudlar food sprayer, among other things. The tools belong to the

only sentient Strata Creature on Drambo, and were used to attack the

medical and military forces attempting to treat the Strata Crea-ture

for radiation poisoning.

Classification:Unknown

Planet:Dutha

Species:Duthan

Individuals:Patient Bowab, His Excellency the Lord Scrennagle of

Dutha

Duthans have a centaur-like body. The torso from the waist up

resembles that of an Earth-human, but the musculature of the arms,

shoulders and chest are subtly different. The hands are five-digi

ted, each comprised of three fingers and two opposable thumbs. The

head is carried erect above a very thick neck, which seems

dispro-portionately small.The face is dominated by two large, soft,

brown eyes that somehow make the slits, pro tuberan ces, and fleshy

petals which comprise the other features visually acceptable.

Classification:Unknowm

Planet:Keran

Species:Keranni

No Individual Names Known

No description given.

Classification:Unknown

Planet:Unknown

Species:Kreglinni

No Individual Names Known

No description given.

Classification:Various

Planet:Meatball

Species:CLCH/CLHG Drambon Rollers, Drambon Farmer Fish, Drambon

Strata Creatures, Drambon Thought Controlled Tools, SRJH Drambon

Healers or Physicians or Protectors

The planet was originally named by the crew of Descartes, but the

name was considered derogatory by one of the native intelligent

species. The planet is now referred to as Drambo.