by James White
“Pathologist, I am most grateful,” Gurronsevas said excitedly. If your department can provide me with this substance, then the solution to my Chalder problem is complete. Can you do so, and how soon?”
“We can’t,” Murchison said, shaking its head. “At least, not yet. We will have to investigate the physiology and endocrinology of a food animal about which the medical library may not be fully informed. And if a secretion of the type we are postulating exists, it would take a few days to analyze and reproduce the molecular structure and test the synthetic variety for possibly harmful side-effects. Until then, Gurronsevas, save your thanks.”
For a long moment he stared at the pathologist as closely as Timmins had done earlier, although not for the same reason, at the ridiculous, wobbling bulges on its upper thorax and the disproportionately small, Earth-human head which in this case held a mind that could never be described as tiny. He was about to thank it again when there was an interruption from Timmins.
“It’s ready to launch, sir,” said the Lieutenant. “Same depth as last time?”
“Thank you, yes,” said Gurronsevas.
Once again the test vehicle was lowered carefully into the water and held in position below the surface. Timmins said, “This time I’ve loaded attitude thrusters on the port side only so that, if the new stabilizers work and the thing achieves some distance, it will circle back to us. On the synthesized production version the changes of depth and direction will be random and …Bloody hell!”
A large, brightly-colored ball, inflated to near-solidity, had landed with a loud thump on the raft where it had bounced twice before rolling into the water beside them. Instinctively one of the Melfan technicians raised a pincer to push it away.
“Leave it and hold still!” said the Lieutenant sharply. “Don’t disturb the water. The jet seals are melting and we’re committed to a launch …There she goes.”
The vehicle began to move forward, slowly at first but steadily picking up speed, and this time in a perfectly straight line. When the first lateral thrust came it changed direction sharply and proceeded on the new course without sideslipping or apparent loss of speed. There was another abrupt change in direction, and another, both achieved cleanly and without loss of stability, and it was curving back towards them. A few seconds later, its compressed air capsules exhausted, it coasted to a stop beside the raft.
“It needs fine tuning,” said Timmins, pulling its lips into the widest Earth-human smile Gurronsevas had ever seen, “but that was a definite improvement.”
“Yes indeed,” said Gurronsevas, who could not smile but wished that he could. “Pathologist Murchison and yourself, and technicians Kledath and Dremon deserve the highest—”
He broke off because suddenly the immobile domed head of a fellow Tralthan was rising from the water beside them, followed by a waving tentacle wearing the arm band of a trainee nurse.
“Please,” it said, “can we have our ball back?”
CHAPTER 7
Present for the trial of the first batch of the new food samples were, in descending order of rank, Senior Physician Edanelt, who had overall medical responsibility for the AUGL ward, Pathologist Murchison, Gurronsevas himself, Lieutenant Timmins, Charge Nurse Hredlichli, and the rest of the ward’s nursing staff. They were all packed so tightly into the Nurses’ Station that there was barely room for the food, which had been wrapped separately in five plastic envelopes to protect the thruster seals against premature contact with water. Patient AUGL-113 was drifting about thirty meters from the station’s entrance, its ribbon tentacles curling and uncurling slowly with impatience.
The normal meal of hard-shelled, artificial eggs had been served and the remains cleared away, and 113 had been told to expect a surprise, possibly a pleasant surprise.
At Gurronsevas’ signal, Timmins moved closer to help him strip off the plastic cover. In addition to the stabilizers, which were all but invisible as well as being not too bad to eat, the upper and lower surfaces of the self-propelled edible packages had been colored so that they closely resembled the grey-and-brown mottled shell of a young but fully-grown specimen of the original food animal. Murchison’s researches into the body markings, behavior, and glandular excretions under stress had been necessarily brief, but thorough.
Within a few seconds the main thruster seal melted and a thin stream of compressed air bubbled out. Gurronsevas and the Lieutenant held the package steady and then, to help it overcome the inertia and initial water resistance, gave it a firm push in the direction of 113.
The Chalder’s mouth opened wide, whether in surprise or anticipation they could not be sure, then its tremendous jaws crashed shut. But its prey had changed direction suddenly, climbing to pass over 113’s massive head and continuing into the tepid, green depths of the other end of the ward. The patient turned ponderously end for end and went after it. Distorted by the intervening water there came the sound of massive teeth closing on emptiness, followed by a noise like a discordant gong being struck as 113 collided with the resting-frame of an immobilized fellow patient, before it managed to catch the food-shell.
The regular chewing and crunching sounds that followed were diminishing when Timmins and Gurronsevas launched the second one.
This time the chase was short-lived because the first random change of direction sent the food straight into 113’s mouth. The third package was able to evade capture until its compressed air supply ran out and it drifted dead in the water, but by then 113 was far too excited to notice or care about this strange behavioral anomaly. Number four it lost altogether.
That was because its erratic course took it too close to the resting-frame of the tethered patient AUGL-126, who snapped it out of the water as it was passing and devoured it within seconds. A heated dispute ensued between 113 and 126, with accusations of theft being countered with those of selfishness, which was ended by the release of the fifth and last food-shell.
It must have been that the convalescent 113 was tiring, Gurronsevas thought, because the chase was a long one and its movements seemed to lack coordination. Several times it collided heavily with the resting-frames lining both sides of the ward, or tore away masses of the decorative and aromatic vegetation that was loosely attached to the walls and ceiling. But its fellow patients seemed not to mind and either shouted encouragement or tried to take a bite out of the food-shell as it went past.
“It’s wrecking my ward!” said Hredlichli angrily. “Stop it, stop it at once!”
“I think most of the damage is superficial, Charge Nurse,” said Timmins, but it did not sound very sure of itself. “I’ll send you a repair squad first shift tomorrow.”
Patient 113, having caused the fifth food-shell to completely disappear, was returning to the Nurses’ Station. It swam slowly past two resting-frames whose structures were visibly deformed and between drifting tangles of artificial vegetation until it was just outside the entrance. Its great, pink cavern of a mouth opened wide.
“More, please,” it said.
“Sorry, no more,” said Senior Physician Edanelt, speaking for the first time since its arrival in the ward. “You have been taking part in an experiment conducted by Chief Dietitian Gurronsevas, an experiment which in my opinion requires further modification. Perhaps there will be more tomorrow or soon after.”
As 113 turned to leave, Hredlichli said quickly, “Nurses, check the condition of your patients at once and report back if this, this experiment has caused any clinical deterioration. Then try to tidy up the mess as best you can.” It turned to the Senior Physician and went on, “I don’t think the experiment should be modified, Doctor. I think it should be forgotten like a bad dream. My ward can’t take another such …”
The Charge Nurse broke off because Edanelt had raised a fore-limb and was clicking a pincer together slowly in the Melfan sign that it wanted attention.
“The demonstration has been interesting and on the whole successful,” it said, “although the present devastation in th
e ward might suggest otherwise. The unnecessarily slow rate of recovery with Chalder patients has a psychological basis, as we know. Post-operatively they tend to become listless, bored, lazy and uncaring about their future. This new food package, which should be served only to mobile, convalescent patients, promises to change that. Judging by the reaction of One-Thirteen and future convalescent patients I would expect the boring nature of mealtimes to be relieved, considerably, by this constant reminder of the pleasures of chasing and eating the real food that awaits them on their home world. The patients under clinical restraint, observing their mobile brethren, will try to reach the convalescent stage as quickly as possible.
“You are all to be complimented,” it went on, looking at the four of them in turn, “but especially the Chief Dietitian for its imaginative solution to what has been until now a serious problem among recuperating Chalders. I have, however, two suggestions to make.”
Edanelt paused and they waited in silence. The Melfan was an unusually polite entity considering its high medical rank, but to a mere Pathologist, a Lieutenant of Maintenance, a Charge Nurse and even a Chief Dietitian, the suggestions of a Senior Physician rumored soon to be elevated to Diagnostician were indistinguishable from orders.
“Gurronsevas,” it went on, “I would like Timmins and yourself to redesign the mobile Chalder meal with a view to reducing its velocity and maneuverability. The physical effort involved in catching the food, however enjoyable it is for the diner and exciting for the watchers, could place the patient in danger of a relapse. Also, a less agile food package would greatly reduce the risk of structural damage to the ward equipment and decoration.”
It turned towards Hredlichli and continued, “That risk could be further reduced by the right psychological approach on the part of your nurses and yourself. Nothing too authoritarian, you understand, because the Chalders are a sensitive species in spite of their imposing physical appearance. Just a gentle reminder that we are friends who are trying to cure them as quickly as possible so that they can go home. And suggest that at home they would not display such unruly eating manners in the dwelling of a friend. I feel sure this approach will greatly reduce the risk of structural damage. That should make you feel happier, Charge Nurse.”
“Yes, doctor,” said Hredlichli in a very unhappy voice.
“It will certainly make the maintenance department happier,” said Timmins. “We will begin work on the modifications at once.”
“Thank you,” said Edanelt, and returned its attention to Gurronsevas. “But I can’t help wondering which problem our very unpredictable Chief Dietitian will address next.”
For a moment Gurronsevas was silent. On the Station’s communicator the nurses were reporting on the condition of their patients who, they said, were displaying excitement but no other symptoms that would arouse clinical concern. The Senior’s words, he realized, had not been a mere politeness. It was honestly curious and awaiting his answer.
“I am undecided, Doctor Edanelt,” he said, “because I still lack dietary experience in many areas. For that reason I began with this minor and isolated problem involving a small number of Chalders, rather than modifying the meals served to a species which is more numerous within the hospital, and which would object massively if the changes were not to their liking. I plan to concentrate initially on the dietary needs of individuals. The first tests will be conducted on volunteers, but later it may be necessary to conduct them covertly without the knowledge of the target subjects. I would not want to attempt any major changes with the larger species’ groups until I have more knowledge of medical and technical problems involved.”
“Ghu-Burbi be thanked,” said Hredlichli.
“That seems like a sensible plan,” Edanelt said. “Who is to be your next subject?”
“A staff member this time,” Gurronsevas replied. “I had several entities in mind but, under the circumstances, and out of consideration for its co-operation in providing facilities for today’s test, and as a well-deserved favor in return for the severe emotional distress caused by the damage to its ward, I think Charge Nurse Hredlichli is the obvious choice.”
“But, but you’re not even a chlorine-breather!” Hredlichli burst out. “You’ll poison me!”
Edanelt’s crab-like, Melfan body began shaking gently and it was making noises which did not translate. Gurronsevas said, “True, but I have responsibility for the food requirements of everyone in the hospital, regardless of species, and I would be failing in my duty if I restricted my professional activities to warm-blooded oxygen-breathers. Besides, Pathologist Murchison has extensive experience with the PVSJ classification as well as having an Illensan chlorine-breather attached to its department, and they have both promised advice and assistance. They would not allow me to release any edible variants that were unsafe. If you are willing to volunteer, Charge Nurse, I can promise that you will be in no danger.”
“The Charge Nurse will be pleased to volunteer,” said Edanelt, its body still shaking gently. “Hredlichli, the culinary reputation of Gurronsevas throughout the Federation is such that you should feel greatly honored.”
“I feel,” said Hredlichli helplessly, “that I have just contracted a life-threatening disease.”
CHAPTER 8
On Gurronsevas’ second visit to the Department of Other-Species Psychology he found the same three entities busy at their desk consoles, but in the intervening time he had discovered who as well as what they were. The Earth-human in Monitor-green uniform was Lieutenant Braithwaite, O’Mara’s principal assistant; the Sommaradvan, Cha Thrat, was an advanced trainee; and Lioren, the Tarlan, was a specialist in the uncertain area where other-species religions and psychology overlapped. This time he did not address himself to the entity possessing the highest rank, as was his custom, because all three of them might be able to help him.
“I am Chief Dietitian Gurronsevas,” he said quietly. “If it is possible I would like to obtain information and assistance with a matter requiring a high degree of confidentiality.”
“We remember you, Gurronsevas,” said Lieutenant Braithwaite, looking up. “But you have called at the wrong time. Major O’Mara is attending the monthly meeting of Diagnosticians. Can I help you, or will you make an appointment?”
“I have called at the right time,” said Gurronsevas. “It is about the Chief Psychologist that I wish to consult you, all of you, in confidence.”
There came the strange, negative sound of three entities ceasing to work. Braithwaite said, “Please go on.”
“Thank you,” Gurronsevas said, moving closer and lowering his voice. “Since I joined the hospital I have not seen the Chief Psychologist visit the main dining hall. Is O’Mara in the habit of dining alone?”
“Correct,” said Braithwaite, and smiled. “The Major rarely dines socially or in public. It is his contention that doing so might give the staff the idea that he is only human after all, with all the usual human faults and weaknesses, and that might be prejudicial to discipline.”
“I do not understand,” said Gurronsevas, after a moment’s thought. “Is there an emotional problem involved, a crisis of identity perhaps? If the Chief Psychologist does not wish to be thought of as human, to which other species does it believe itself to belong? This information, if it is not privileged and you are willing to divulge it, would greatly assist me in the preparation of suitable meals. I am assuming that the solitary eating habit is to conceal the fact that it does not eat Earth-human food.”
Cha Thrat and Lioren were making quiet sounds which did not translate and Braithwaite’s smile had widened. It said, “The Chief Psychologist is not psychologically disturbed. I’m afraid my remark — about him not wanting to appear human — suffered in translation, and misled you. But what is it that you want to know, and how exactly can we help you? You give the impression that it has something to do with the Major’s food intake.”
“It has,” said Gurronsevas. “Specifically, I would like all the information
you can give me regarding its food preferences, the ordering frequency of favorite dishes, and any critical remarks the subject has made or may make about them in future.
“It is surprisingly difficult,” he went on quickly, “to gather this kind of information without attracting attention to myself and arousing comment regarding a project that should remain secret until its completion. Many entities within the hospital dine alone, either out of personal preference or because urgent professional duties make the journey to and from the dining hall too wasteful of their time. Any record of the food ordered by them is erased once the order is filled and dispatched, there being no necessity to store such information, and the only way of discovering the dishes chosen would be to intercept the original order or breach the delivery vehicle, neither of which could be done covertly. It would be much simpler if you were to give me the necessary information.”
“Unless the food chosen indicates depraved tastes, whatever that may mean in this medical madhouse,” said Lioren, speaking for the first time, “information on food preferences can scarcely be classified as a privileged communication. I see no reason for withholding such information, but why not ask the Major for it directly? Why the need for secrecy?”
Surely the need is obvious, Gurronsevas thought. Patiently he said, “As you already know, I am charged with the responsibility for improving food presentation and taste, since the quality and composition of the synthetic materials used is standard and nutritionally at optimum levels. But the introduction of changes in appearance and taste, many of them quite subtle, to large numbers of diners, has one serious disadvantage. The changes would give rise to widespread discussion and argument regarding personal preferences rather than the reasoned and detailed criticism that would be of value to me.
“Naturally,” he went on, “the testing of single members of selected species, as I have been doing with the AUGL patient One-Thirteen and Charge Nurse Hredlichli, produces useful data. But even with this method time can be wasted, albeit sometimes pleasantly, in debating culinary side-issues. I have decided, therefore, that for the best results the subject should be unaware of the test until after its conclusion.”
