Sector general omnibus, p.164
Sector General Omnibus, page 164
“Lioren,” it ended, “please guard your tongue.”
For a moment a sudden engagement of his emotions made it impossible for Lioren’s speech centers to function. It seemed that the dislike of the medical staff for Psychology Department members was not general. But he must not forget that his purpose in coming here was to collect information on Seldal, and the best way of doing that might be to place these two entities under an obligation to him.
“As I was about to say,” Lioren resumed, “I am forbidden to discuss restricted material, whether it refers to the inner workings of the mind of a nurse-in-training or that of the able and highly respected Senior Physician Cresk-Sar . . .”
Tarsedth made a sound which did not translate, but the uneven ruffling of its fur made it plain what the Kelgian thought of its principal tutor.
“However,” he went on, “that does not preclude the discussion of such matters between yourselves, or of you producing theories regarding your possible future behavior based on past, firsthand knowledge of the entity concerned. You might begin by considering the fact that, for a great many years, Cresk-Sar has been noted for being the most dedicated, meticulous, pro-, fessionally uncompromising, and personally unpleasant tutor on the staff. And that its trainees suffer the most extreme mental and emotional discomfort, but rarely fail their examinations. Perhaps because of the fear that they will disappoint it by failing to achieve their full potential, the most promising students are made to suffer the worst unpleasantness. You might also remember that Cresk-Sar is so single-minded about its teaching duties that it frequently interrupts and questions trainees regarding their progress during off-duty periods. You might also consider the probable effect on such a tutor of a hypothetical trainee who seems to be ambitious, dedicated, or stupid enough to spend free time, and even forgo a meal as you are doing, in furthering that ambition.
“Having weighed all these factors yourselves,” Lioren added, “you might consider that our hypothetical trainee had nothing to worry about, and hypothetically I would be forced to agree with you.”
“Lioren,” Tarsedth said, its fur settling into slow, relieved waves, “you are breaking, or at least seriously deforming, the rules. And ambitious I may be but stupid I am not; I packed a lunch box. But this one—” It pointed its head in the Hudlar’s direction. “—came away without its nutrient supply. It will have to be very polite and apologetic, whatever that means, to the Charge Nurse and ask for a quick spray, or it won’t make our next lecture.”
“I’m always polite and apologetic,” the Hudlar said, “especially to Charge Nurses, who must grow a little tired of forgetful, starving FROBs turning up at odd times looking for a handout. It will be critical toward me, perhaps personally abusive, but it won’t refuse. After all, a Hudlar collapsing from malnutrition in the middle of its ward would make the place look untidy.”
He looked closely at the Hudlar, whose smooth and incredibly dense body was beginning to sag in spite of its six widely spaced tentacles. The FROB classification were native to a very heavy-gravity planet with proportionately high atmospheric pressure. The world’s atmosphere resembled a thick, semiliquid soup laden with tiny, airborne food particles, which were ingested by an absorption mechanism covering its back and flanks, and, because the Hudlars were intensely energy-hungry creatures, the process was continuous. In other-world environments and at the hospital it had been found more convenient to spray them at frequent intervals with nutrient paint. It was possible that this one had found Seldal’s procedure so interesting that it had allowed its energy reserves to run dangerously low.
“Wait here,” Lioren said briskly, “while I ask Charge Nurse for a sprayer. It would be less troublesome for all concerned if you made the observation gallery untidy instead of collapsing in the main ward. And up here we won’t risk spraying your smelly Hudlar nutrient onto its nice clean floor and patients.”
By the time he returned with the nutrient tank and sprayer, the Hudlar’s body had settled to the floor with its tentacles twitching feebly and only soft, untranslatable sounds coming from its speech membrane. Lioren used the sprayer expertly and accurately—in common with his fellow Monitor Corps officers, he had been taught to perform this favor for FROB personnel engaged in construction work in airless conditions—and within a few minutes it was fully recovered. Below them Seldal and its patient were no longer visible and the theater was emptying of its OR staff.
“That particular act of charity caused you to miss the end of the operation,” Tarsedth said, ruffling its fur disapprovingly at the Hudlar. “Seldal has left for the dining hall and won’t return until—”
“Your pardon, Tarsedth,” the Hudlar broke in, “but you are forgetting that I recorded the procedure in its entirety. I would be happy to have both of you view a rerun in my place after lectures.”
“No!” Tarsedth said. “Hudlars don’t use beds or chairs and there would be nowhere for a soft body like mine, or even Lioren’s, to relax. And my place is far too small to allow a couple of outsize thrennigs like you two inside. If it is that interested, Lioren can always borrow your tape sometime.”
“Or both of you could come to my room,” Lioren said quickly. “I have never seen a Nallajim surgeon perform and any comments you might make would be helpful to me.”
“When?” Tarsedth said.
He had arranged a time suitable for all three of them when the Hudlar said quietly, “Lioren, are you sure that talking about other-species surgery will not cause you emotional distress or that gossiping, for that is what we will be doing, with people outside your department will not get you into trouble with O’Mara?”
“Nonsense!” Tarsedth said. “Gossiping is the most satisfying nonphysical activity between people. We’ll see you then, Lioren, and this time I’ll make sure my overweight friend here remembers to bring a spare nutrient tank.”
When they had gone, Lioren returned the exhausted tank to the Charge Nurse, who needed to be reassured that the nutrient spray had not smeared the transparent wall of the observation gallery. He had often wondered why every ward’s Charge Nurse, regardless of size, species, or environmental requirements, was so fanatically insistent that its medical domain was kept at all times neat, orderly, and scrupulously clean. But only now had he begun to realize that, regardless of what the subordinate nursing staff might think of it personally, the ward of a Charge Nurse who demanded perfection in the minor details was particularly well suited to dealing with major emergencies.
Lioren felt symptoms of a minor and nonpainful discomfort in his stomach that was usually attributable to excitement, non-physical pleasure, or hunger—on this occasion he thought that it might be a combination of all three. He plotted a course that would take him as quickly as possible to the dining hall, intent on eliminating one of the possible causes, but he did not expect the symptoms to be entirely relieved, because he was thinking about his first nonsurgical case.
Abasing himself to the professional level of a couple of trainee nurses—and him a former Surgeon-Captain in the Monitor Corps—had not been as difficult as he had thought, nor had it shamed him to the degree he had expected and deserved. He was even pleased with himself for correctly deducing from Cresk-Sar’s report that Tarsedth would be observing Seldal’s operation. After lunch, in order to keep the entity Braithwaite happy, he would return to the office and deal with the remainder of the Senior Tutor’s report.
Altogether it promised to be a long, busy day and an even longer evening, during which he would view the recording of
Seldal’s operation and discuss the Nallajim’s procedure at length. Having been told of Lioren’s abiding interest in other-species surgery, the two nurses would be expecting many questions from him. In the circumstances it would be natural for the conversation to wander from the operation to the personality, habits, and behavior of the surgeon performing it. Everyone liked to gossip about their superiors, and the quantity of highly personal information available usually increased in direct proportion to the rank of the individual concerned. If he was careful, this information could be abstracted in such a way that neither his informants nor his case subject would be aware of what was happening.
As the beginning of a covert investigation, Lioren thought with a little shiver of self-congratulation, it was faultless.
CHAPTER 9
“WITH Nallajims,” Tarsedth said while they were reviewing the Seldal operation late that evening, “I can never make up my mind whether I 'm watching surgery or other-species cannibalism.”
“In their early, precurrency days,” the Hudlar said, the modulation of its speaking membrane suggesting that its words were not to be taken seriously, “that was the only way a Nallajim doctor could obtain its fee from a patient.”
“I am filled with admiration,” Lioren said, “that a life-form with three legs, two not-quite atrophied wings, and no hands at all could become a surgeon in the first place. Or, for that matter, perform any of the other delicate manipulatory functions which led to the evolution of intelligence and a technology-based culture. They began with so many serious physiological disadvantages that—”
“They do it by poking their noses into the most unlikely places,” Tarsedth said, its fur rumpling with impatience. “Do you want to watch the operation or talk about the surgeon?”
Both, Lioren thought, but he did not speak the word aloud.
The LSVO physiological classification to which Seldal belonged was a warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing species which had evolved on Nallaji, a large world whose high rotational velocity, dense atmosphere, and low gravity in the intensely fertile equatorial regions had combined to provide an environment suited to the proliferation of avian life-forms. It had been an environment which enabled airborne predators to evolve which were large both in variety and size, but so heavily armed and armored that they had gradually rendered themselves extinct. Over the millennia while this incredibly violent process was working itself out, the relatively tiny LSVOs had been forced out of the skies and their high, vulnerable nests and had taken to the shelter of the trees, deep gullies, and caves.
Very quickly they had to adapt to sharing the ground with the small animals and insects which had formerly been their prey.
Gradually the Nallajim had lost the ability for sustained flight, and as a species they had progressed too far along the evolutionary path for their wings to become arms, or even for their wingtips to subdivide into the digits suitable for the fabrication of tools or weapons. But it was the savage, mindless, and continuing threat from insects large and small who infested, and by their sheer numbers dominated, the land as the giant avians interdicted the air that brought about the minor changes in bone structure and musculature of the beak that caused the Nallajim to develop intelligence.
Handless but no longer helpless, they had been forced to use their heads.
On Nallaji, the winged insects that swarmed and stung their prey to death were outnumbered by those that burrowed and laid eggs deep within the sleeping bodies of their victims. The only way these burrowing insects could be removed was by pecking them out with the long, thin, flexible Nallajim beak.
From being a simple family and tribal debugging device, the LSVO beak progressed to a stage where it was capable of fabricating quite complex insect-proof dwellings, tools, insect-killing weapons, cities, and ultimately starships.
“Seldal is fast,” Lioren said admiringly, after one particu- larly delicate piece of deep surgery, “and it gives remarkably few instructions to its OR staff.”
“Use your eyes,” Tarsedth said. “It doesn’t have to talk to them because the staff are engaged in supporting the patient more than the surgeon. Look at the way its beak jabs all over that instrument rack. By the time it gave directions to a nurse and the correct instrument was stuck onto its beak, Seldal could have obtained the instrument unaided, completed the incision, and been ready for the next stage.
“With this surgeon,” the Kelgian went on, “it is the choice and disposition of the racked instruments that is important. There is no juggling with clamps and cutters, no verbal distractions, no tantrums because an OR nurse is slow or misunderstands. I think I’d like to work with this birdbrained Senior Physician.”
The conversation, Lioren thought, was moving away from Seldal’s operation to the subject of Seldal itself, which was exactly what he had been hoping would happen. But before he could take advantage of the situation, the Hudlar, who was plainly another enthusiast where Nallajim surgery was concerned, tried to be helpful while displaying its own expertise.
“Its procedure is very fast and may seem to be confusing to you, Lioren,” it said, “especially since you have told us that you have no prior surgical experience with Melfan ELNTs. As you can see, the patient’s six limbs and all of the body are exoskeletal. The vital organs are housed within that thick, osseous carapace and are so well protected that traumatic injury rarely occurs although these organs are, unfortunately, subject to a number of dysfunctions which require surgical intervention . . .”
“You,” Tarsedth broke in, its fur spiking with irritation, “are beginning to sound like Cresk-Sar.”
“I’m sorry,” the Hudlar said. “I only meant to explain what Seldal was doing, not bring back unpleasant memories of our tutor.”
“Do not trouble yourself,” Lioren said. The Hudlar FROBs were acknowledged to be the physically strongest life-forms of the Galactic Federation and with the least-pervious body tegument, but emotionally their skins were extremely thin. He added, “Please continue, so long as you don’t ask questions afterward.”
The Hudlar’s membrane vibrated with an untranslatable sound. “I won’t. But I was trying to explain why speed is so important during Melfan surgery. The major internal organs float in a shock-absorbent fluid and are only tethered loosely to the interior walls of the carapace and underside. When the fluid is removed temporarily prior to surgery, the organs are no longer supported and they sink onto each other with consequent compression and deformation effects which include restriction of the blood supply. Irreversible changes take place which could result in termination of the patient if the situation is allowed to continue for more than a few minutes.”
With an intensity that shocked his sensorium like a traumatic injury, Lioren found himself wishing suddenly for the impossible, for a recent past that had taken a different turning and would have allowed him to share this trainee’s enthusiasm for other-species surgery rather than a demeaning and probably unproductive interest in the surgeon’s mind. The thought that the pain, no matter how severe or often it came, would always be less than he deserved brought little comfort.
“Normally an ELNT surgical procedure requires a large operative field and many assistants,” the Hudlar went on, “whose principal purpose is to support these no-longer-floating organs on specially shaped pans while the surgeon-in-charge performs the operation proper. This procedure has the disadvantages of requiring an unnecessarily large opening in the carapace to allow entry of the supporting instruments, and the healing of such a wound is slow and sometimes leads to unsightly scarring and discoloration where the section of carapace was temporarily removed. This can lead to severe emotional trauma in the patient because the carapace, the richness and graduations of its color and individuality in pattern, plays an important part in the courtship process. With a single Nallajim operating, however, the greater speed of this procedure combined with the smaller entry wound reduces both the size and the possibility of a disfigurement occurring postoperatively.”
“A good thing, too,” Tarsedth said, its fur rippling in vehement sympathy. Kelgian DBLFs had the same feelings about their mobile, silvery fur as the Melfan ELNTs about their beautifully marked carapaces. “But would you look at the way it is pecking at the operative field, sometimes with its naked beak, like a bloody astigmatic vulture!”
Seldal’s instrument rack was suspended vertically just beyond the operative field, within easy reach of the surgeon’s beak. Each recess contained specialized instruments with hollow, conical grips that enabled the Nallajim’s upper, lower, or entire beak to enter and grasp, use, replace, or discard them with bewildering rapidity. Occasionally Seldal went in with nothing but the two, long, cylindrical lenses that extended from its tiny eyes almost to the tip of its beak—which had been strapped in position for the duration of the operation—to correct its avian tendency for long-sightedness. Its three claws were wrapped tightly around the perch attached to the operating frame, and the stubby wings fluttered constantly to give it additional stability when it jabbed with its beak.
“In early times,” the Hudlar said, “both the eggs and the egg-laying insects which had to be removed from the patients were edible, and it was considered proper for the surgeon to ingest them. Melfan tissue would not be harmful to a Nallajim, and you will remember from basic training that any ELNT pathogens it contained would not affect or infect an entity who had evolved on a different world. But in a multispecies hospital like Sector General eating parts of a patient, however small, can be emotionally disturbing to onlookers, so you will note that all such material is discarded.
“The operation,” the Hudlar went on, “is to remove—”
“It surprises me,” Lioren broke in, again trying to guide the conversation back to the surgeon rather than its work, “that a same-species surgeon, Senior Physician Edanelt, for example, was not assigned to the case instead of a life-form who requires a Melfan Educator tape to—”
“That,” Tarsedth said, “would be like expecting Diagnostician Conway to forgo all other-species surgery until it had first treated the Earth-human DBDGs in the hospital. Don’t be stupid, Lioren. Operating on an other-species patient is far more interesting and exciting than one of your own kind, and the more physiological differences there are the greater the professional challenge. But you know all this already. On Cromsag you treated—”
