Sector General Omnibus 3 - General Practice (35 page)

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Authors: James White

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L
ioren moved along the Melfan surgical ward at a pace which suggested that he knew where he was going and what he intended doing when he got there. The Illensan Charge Nurse on duty looked up from its desk, stirred restively within its protective envelope, but otherwise ignored him, and the other nurses were too busy attending to the post-op ELNTs even to notice his passing. But as he walked between the double line of padded support frames which were the Melfan equivalent of surgical beds it became clear that Senior Physician Seldal, in spite of its name appearing on the ward’s staff-on-duty board, was not present. Neither was Student Nurse Tarsedth.
Among the Illensan, Kelgian, and Tralthan nurses working all around him a Nallajim would have been hard to miss, which meant that it must still be in the operating theater adjoining the ward. Lioren climbed the ascending ramp to the observation gallery—a large number of the medical staff were physiologically incapable of mounting stairs—and saw that he had guessed right. He also discovered that there were two other observers in the gallery. As he had hoped and half expected, one of them was Tarsedth, the Kelgian DBLF who had spoken to him during his first visit to the dining hall several days earlier.
“What are
you
doing here?” the Kelgian asked, its fur rippling with erratic waves of surprise. “After that mess you made on Cromsag they
told us that you would be having nothing to do with other-species bloodletting.”
Lioren thought that it was a particularly dishonorable thing to lie to a member of a species that was totally incapable of lying, so he decided on the compromise of not telling all of the truth.
“I still retain my interest in other-species surgery, Nurse Tarsedth,” he said, “even though I am forbidden to practice it. Is the case interesting?”
“Not to me,” Tarsedth said, returning its attention to the scene below them. “My principal interest here is in the OR staff procedure, artificial gravity controls, patient presentation, and instrument deployment, not all this surgical pecking at some hapless Melfan’s innards.”
The other occupant of the gallery, an FROB, vibrated its speaking membrane in the Hudlar equivalent of clearing its throat, and said, “I am interested in the surgery, Lioren. As you can see, the operation is nearing completion. But if there is any aspect of the earlier work of particular interest to you, I would be pleased to discuss it.”
Lioren turned all of his eyes on the speaker but was unable, as were the majority of the hospital staff, to tell one Hudlar from another. The transparent eye casings were featureless, as were the squat, heavy body and the six tapering, immensely strong tentacles which supported it. The skin, which in appearance and texture resembled a seamless covering of flexible armor, was discolored by patches of dried-out, exhausted food, indicating that the being was urgently in need of respraying with nutrient. But it seemed to know Lioren, or knew of him. Was it possible that this friendly Hudlar, like Tarsedth, had spoken to him earlier?
“Thank you,” Lioren said. Choosing his words carefully, he went on, “I am interested in Nallajim surgical procedure, and in particular how this one—”
“I thought all you Psychology people knew everything about everybody,” Tarsedth broke in, strong emotion agitating its fur. “You’ve read Cresk-Sar’s reports on us, so you know I am here, spending free time trying to familiarize myself with other-species OR procedures. You know
that I’m trying to impress our noxious little Nidian tutor with my knowledge and interest in the subject so that it will approve my request for a posting to the new ELNT theater on fifty-three, and the early promotion that it would bring. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were sent here by O’Mara or Cresk-Sar.
“You know everything,” Tarsedth ended, its pelt spiking into worried peaks, “but Psychology people say nothing.”
Lioren controlled his anger by reminding himself once again that the Kelgian could not help expressing its true feelings, and his reply, so far as it went, was equally blunt and honest.
“I came here to watch Seldal at work,” he said, “and I have no interest in your future plans or your method of furthering them. Cresk-Sar’s latest report came in this morning, and from reading it and earlier reports I have been made aware of your progress in the most meticulous and boring detail. I am also aware that the material in your file is confidential to my department and must not be discussed with anyone outside it. However, I will say that you are—”
The Hudlar’s speaking membrane vibrated suddenly as it said, “Lioren, be careful. If you have information which should not be divulged, even though the reasons appear to you to be unreasonable or administrative rather than therapeutic, please remember that you are once again a trainee and your future depends, like ours, in keeping our department heads happy or, at very least, not actively antagonistic toward us because of disobedience or insubordination.
“Tarsedth is trying very hard for this promotion,” it went on quickly, “and it is irritated by what it considers to be the unnecessary secrecy regarding its chances. But it would not wish reassurance or otherwise if the information you gave it was to lead to your dismissal. Like the other nurse trainees, all of whom have discussed you at great length, Tarsedth believes that your only hope of coming to terms with your terrible problem is to remain within the hospital.
“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, professionally 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 non-physical 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, nonphysical 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.

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