The compleat collected s.., p.765
The COMPLEAT Collected SFF Works, page 765
"They weren't druuls," said Prilicla. "It was a rescue ship that came to help you."
"I'm sorry," said Keet. "I know that, now."
Prilicla withdrew the scanner and moved back. He had all the physiological data he needed for a preliminary assessment of the other casualty's condition, but a lot more non-medical information was needed. He said, "I'll stay in contact with you, but we're moving over to look at Jasam now. Tell it not to be afraid; neither friend Fletcher nor myself mean it any harm. Why did you attack the first rescue ship?"
"We didn't," it replied quickly. "It attacked our protective suit ..."
For the few minutes it took them to transfer to the other control module, Prilicla listened to Keet's reassuring words to its life-mate and felt the growing trust in Fletcher and himself that accompanied them even though they were feelings that Jasam had yet to share.
"... That is what the druul have been doing to us for hundreds of years," it continued, "and many of our scientists think that they no longer know why they do it. As individuals they are predominantly machines designed to attack and penetrate our protective suits, as a nut is cracked to uncover its edible kernel, although all too often the kernel itself is destroyed by the ferocity of the onslaught so that there is no reward for the tiny, organic fraction that controls the machines they have become. We Trolanni, at least, are whole, sapient, and civilized, if very sickly, people inside our protective suits, although with this two-body searchsuit with its vastly greater proportion of machine-to-organic life, we were forced to become more like the druul ..."
So they thought of their ship as a searchsuit, a bigger, more complex and specialized version of the individual protective garment than those that the planet-based druul forced them to wear. Interesting. Prilicla could feel the captain's mounting excitement as Keet continued speaking, but he knew that friend Fletcher would not interrupt the flow of information with a question that would shortly be answered.
"... In this instance," it went on, "our hull protection was designed to safeguard us for the short time we were in atmosphere before we entered space, where so far the druul have been unable to go. The protection operates continuously in a state of high alert, and instantly disrupts the computer-operated control and life-support systems of any attacking machine-encased druul. But we never expected to find them, or beings just like them, between the stars. That was terrifying for us and there was nothing we could do."
"It would help us to help Jasam and yourself," Prilicla said gently, "if your protective device could be switched off. Can it?"
"No," said Keet, "at least not by us. To do that, specialist knowledge and devices are needed and these are available only on our home world. It must not be switched off because its protection is needed during our second trip through atmosphere, hopefully on our way home to report success in finding a new world. But instead ... Please, will Jasam live?"
Sometimes, Prilicla thought, as he noted the damage to its life-mate as well as the traces of dried body fluid that were staining the joins where the metal and organic interface was visible, it was not always advisable to tell the truth even in a first-contact situation.
"There is a strong possibility that we'll be able to save its life," he said.
"But not in here," said the captain on their personal frequency that did not go through the translator. Quickly and concisely it went on to explain why while Prilicla tried to provide a more optimistic translation for the two Trolanni, continuing his scanner examination of the second casualty as he spoke.
Jasam's injuries had been due to the structural damage to its side of the searchsuit, caused by the explosive failure of the first beacon they had released, which in turn had caused multiple fracturing and dislocation of the life-support plumbing that had been surgically implanted into its body. Its resultant external and internal wounds were extensive and serious, he explained, but with the right treatment they would not be life-threatening. He personally had repaired organic damage that was much more severe and had returned the entity concerned to full health.
"But in this case," he went on, "the right treatment would first involve removing Jasam and yourself from your vessel—"
"And leave us without a suit!" Keet broke in. "And ... and life support? We've already lost our dolls—Jasam's destroyed, and mine damaged beyond the ability to do sensitive repair work. No!"
They called their robot crew members "dolls", Prilicla thought, and the accompanying emotional radiation was indicative of the feelings held for a friend and helper as well as for a pet or plaything. Curious—but satisfying that curiosity would have to wait until the more urgent problem of removing them from their ship-sized protective suit was settled.
"On Trolann," he went on, projecting reassurance with every ounce of empathic energy in his mind, "there must be doctors, healers, beings who cure or repair organic disease or damage. To perform this work effectively there must be easy access to the site of the trouble, so am I correct in thinking that they prefer the sick or injured patient to be unclothed?"
"Yes," said Keet. "But that is on Trolann. Out here ..."
"Out here," said Prilicla gently, "you would be much safer. Rhabwar, the ship that you see nearby, was expressly designed for and contains all the equipment necessary to do such work, and it has done it many times. But the equipment is both bulky and highly sensitive. If it was to be moved to your vessel, a difficult job in itself, there would be a serious risk of the ship's protective devices disabling its computer-operated circuitry, as it does with the druul machines. There isn't much time left. Your life-support consumables, Jasam's especially, have leaked away and are close to exhaustion.
"If both of you are to survive," he ended, "You must agree and I must act, quickly."
There was a moment's silence while Keet radiated growing uncertainty, then it said, "Both of us? I, I thought one of us would stay in our searchsuit until the organic and mechanical repairs were done, then Jasam would be reinserted and ... There is very little organic damage to myself."
"I know," said Prilicla. "But I will need your help and advice for the extraction process. You will be conscious and aware and will be able to tell us exactly what we have to do at every stage, and we will be able to use the experience more easily to detach your more seriously injured life-mate. We have already analyzed and reproduced your food, air, and working fluid, the last two of which are very similar to our own. My present plan is to put both of you into a covered litter that contains all your life-support requirements, and where you will be able to give close, emotional support to Jasam during the transfer to our ship and the organic-repair work afterwards."
There was another silence, then Keet said, "Detaching Jasam is a difficult and specialized job that is done only in case of an onboard emergency by a doll. Jasam's doll was killed in the first explosion and mine was damaged in the second. The control circuitry serving the forward cluster of fine, peripheral digits, the ones needed for a complete body extraction, was burned out. My doll is incapable of the delicate work that would be required. It is certain that we will both die."
"That is not certain," said Prilicla, "and is not even likely. Controlled by our own sensitive digits will be even finer and more delicate mechanisms that are capable of doing the work. We are widely experienced in the extraction of damaged organic casualties from the wreckage of starships, and friend Fletcher will make a very good doll."
The captain made a noise that did not translate.
Chapter Twenty-One
WHEN LIEUTENANT Dodds and the covered litter arrived it was met by Keet's doll and quickly escorted forward to Prilicla and Fletcher in the control section. Guided by its mistress and in spite of the impaired movement of its finer digits, the doll was able to help and occasionally hinder Prilicla and the captain during the long and physically uncomfortable process of detaching and extricating Keet from the mass of control, communications, and life-support plumbing. It was a present and obvious subject of interest to both Fletcher and himself, and in an attempt to keep the Trolanni's mind off the continuing discomfort they were inflicting as well as its deep concern for Jasam, whose communications line they had been forced to sever temporarily, Prilicla began to question it with gentle persistence about the dolls.
It was an interesting change of subject.
"I don't know why you find them of such interest," Keet protested, radiating minor embarrassment. "They are toys, playthings, used mainly by the very young, or some adults who feel the need to remind themselves of the kind of people that we used to be in the past, when we could move freely and swim and climb and play together and touch without being weighed down and smothered by heavy and uncomfortable protective suits. The dolls are lifelike, life-sized, and closely modeled after their owners, and while the children's are simple both in mind and structure, those of the adults are highly sophisticated, and are capable of a wide range of supportive functions and recreational activities which their owners can enjoy vicariously and which in many cases answers a psychological need.
"Jasam and I," Keet went on, "were to be enclosed permanently in a searchsuit where, for operational reasons, we would be close but unable to make physical contact for the rest of our lives. The project psychologists decided that a crew of two specialized dolls—in design and function the most versatile and intelligent to be built—would operate and maintain our search-suit and, it was thought, the fact that they were exact copies of ourselves would help reduce our feelings of loss and loneliness and so maintain our sanity."
Prilicla reached into the restricted space the captain and the robot had cleared for him in the dense mass of plumbing, and put a tiny clamp on the fine tube that carried the liquefied food from the nearly empty reservoir through Keet's abdominal wall. It was a little like brain surgery, he thought, involving as it did the manipulation of delicate organs in a very confined space. He concentrated on the work for several minutes until he was satisfied with it, then withdrew before speaking.
"Did they?" he said.
"They did," it ended, "until we found this fresh, lovely, and untouched world and our position beacons blew up, and your rescue ship blundered onto the scene." It paused, then added, "I don't think you, or your druul-like helper, are blundering now."
"Thank you," said Prilicla, knowing that Keet's feelings were backing up its words. "But now we have to transfer you to the litter and attend to some superficial wounding caused by the extraction. The treatment will be quick and simple, a few sutures and the application of a healing ointment suited to your metabolism. You won't have an adverse reaction to it because it is identical to one of the medications carried in your doll's medical kit which, you will remember, we analyzed and reproduced earlier. Ready everyone?"
It was like moving a limp, half-cooked pancake through a three-dimensional maze of barbed wire, the captain said on their private frequency. Prilicla had no idea what a pancake was, his only Earth-human food weakness being spaghetti, and had to take the other's word for it. But finally they had Keet out of its control cocoon, its wounds treated, and resting comfortably in the litter.
"What now?" it said.
"Now," Prilicla replied, "we seal the litter and move it into Jasam's section, reconnect the communications line so you'll be able to tell it what has been happening while friend Fletcher and I do the same for our own people who must make preparations to receive two new casualties. After that ... My apologies, I need to sleep again."
While they were moving the litter to the other section of the control center, Prilicla quickly explained the situation to Pathologist Murchison while transmitting visuals of the scene that were being relayed to the surface by Rhabwar. The ground facility was more spacious than the ambulance ship's casualty deck, and all of his medical staff as well as the Terragar survivors were there. Keet and Jasam were talking together and the captain was about to begin his situation report, both of which were being recorded in case he needed to refer to them later, when he suddenly lost touch with reality.
Captain Fletcher looked at the sleeping Prilicla, lowered his voice, and, using a frequency that the two aliens could overhear, spoke briskly.
"Courier Vessel One," he said. "We can now report that the distressed alien ship is non-hostile and that the damage inflicted on Terragar was due to a combination of ignorance and a close-range defense system of high lethality that instantly kills any ship's computer-controlled systems, but not the living organic contents, that touches it. This defense system remains active and is an extreme danger to any investigating ship—regardless of size and armament—making a close approach. It is imperative that you remain at your present distance and that all other vessels be forbidden to enter this system until a countermeasure has been found.
"The ship's planet of origin is Trolann," it went on, "location as yet unknown, where the Trolanni are losing a war that has lasted for many centuries with another indigenous species, the druul, with whom it has been impossible to come to an accommodation. Physically the druul bear a close resemblance to the DBDG physiological classification, a fact which initially made the first-contact procedure very difficult because they looked on Rhabwar's Earth-human personnel as natural enemies rather than rescuers. Now I believe that we have done enough to earn their trust ..."
"Our limited trust," Keet broke in. "I trust Prilicla, and to a lesser extent you, because you do as it asks and seem anxious to help us, but Jasam remains fearful and untrusting. About the other ones who look like druuls, I, too, am uncertain."
"But that," said the captain, "is because you haven't seen them helping you as Prilicla and I have been doing. Their work is in the background, but it is being done. They are not, never were, nor ever will be like the druul. May I continue with my report?
"The Trolanni are of physiological classification CHLI," he went on when Keet did not reply, "warm-blooded oxygen-breathers, although there is very little breathable oxygen remaining on their heavily polluted planet. They describe themselves as an embattled minority of ... Keet, what is the total number of Trolanni on your planet?"
"Just under one hundred thousand," it replied promptly.
"As few as that?" said the captain, its face paling as it returned to its report and went on. "In that case, and bearing in mind the fact that the Trolanni have a limited space-travel capability, I strongly recommend that the Federation mount a disaster-relief and evacuation operation to move them from their virtually uninhabitable planet to another world, the world below us, in fact, which Keet and Jasam found for their people before their ship was damaged in an attempt to signal its location. I further recommend that provision be made to interdict all druul offensive operations until the Trolanni are evacuated safely, after which, if cultural reeducation is possible, we should determine the druul's needs for continued survival and ..."
Inside the litter canopy, Keet's body was twitching in great agitation. It said, "Aren't you going to kill them all, or at least let them die fighting among themselves? That's what they'll do if there's nobody else to fight. Or maybe you can't kill them. Maybe you're favorably disposed towards them, more so than towards the Trolanni, because the druul look like you. I'm sorry, but I think we were right about you from the start. A helpful, apparently friendly druul is still a druul. You disappoint us, Fletcher."
The captain shook his head. "Our physically similar appearance has nothing to do with it. On Earth there are creatures shaped like humans. In our prehistory, we developed intelligence and ultimately civilization, but they did not, and to this day remain non-sapient animals. They are not evil in themselves but are governed by animal instincts that sometimes make them a danger to humans, and for this reason they are confined, restricted, and cared for in their own areas where they cannot harm us. If the druul are thinking animals, implacable, vicious, unable to be taught civilized ways, or are incapable of governing their own instincts and behavior, that—if it is possible for us to do it—is what would happen to them. They would be isolated and Trolann would be interdicted by the Federation and no contact with any other species allowed.
"But we would not exterminate a species just because its long-term enemy thought it was warranted," the captain ended. "The druul and you may not be able to view each other or your problem with objectivity. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to return to my report—"
The captain resumed his description of the situation on the alien ship and their plans for resolving it while at the same time, by implication, mentally preparing the Trolanni casualties for what was to come by describing the structural problems of casualty extraction before the medical problems could be solved. But Keet was finding it difficult to remain silent.
"Prilicla and you are all right, I suppose," Keet said, "but are strangers of your kind going to be handling us? That would frighten Jasam and me very much. He might hurt himself even more trying to fight you off. We'd rather Prilicla did everything. We like it."
"Everybody likes Prilicla," said Fletcher, looking aside at the sleeping empath, "but physically it is too weak to do everything itself. That's why it will need heavy cutting equipment and the help of Dodds and Chen, two other Earth-humans like myself, to clear a path to and enclose the area in a pressure envelope before Prilicla can begin treating Jasam's injuries. But all of us, in my ship and on the surface are the same as Prilicla. We all want to help cure Jasam and yourself. While we're doing that, you'll come to know all of us, and trust us, and tell us how we can help your people."
For a long time there was silence while the captain crawled about in the wreckage surrounding Jasam's control pod, marking structural members that would have to be cut away, lengths of plumbing to be sealed off, and talking quietly. Everything he said formed part of his report including—although the Trolanni might not have realized it—the conversations with Keet and all the recorded material on the Terragar landing and casualties.
