Sector General Omnibus 2 - Alien Emergencies (68 page)

Triage called for the presence of a Senior Surgeon at the disaster site. Prilicla was one of the hospital’s finest surgeons, and it was being assisted by a pathologist who was second only to those of Diagnostician rank. Together they should be able to do that particularly harrowing job of casualty assessment without delay or indecision.

They would be following procedures laid down in the distant past to cover large-scale medical emergencies, from the time when air attacks, bombardments, terrorist bombings, and similar effects of the interracial mass psychosis called war had added unnecessarily to the death tolls of purely natural disasters. At times like these, medical resources could not be wasted, or time and effort devoted
to hopeless cases. That had been the thinking behind triage.

Casualties were assessed and placed into three groups. The first contained the superficially or nonfatally injured, those suffering from psychological trauma, the people who would not die should treatment be delayed and who could wait until transportation was available to their home-planet hospitals. The second group comprised those beings who were so seriously injured that their condition would prove fatal no matter what was done for them, and who could only be made as comfortable as possible until they terminated. The third and most important of the groups contained those whose injuries were grievous, but who stood a fair chance of survival if the indicated treatment could be given without delay.

It was the Group Three injuries which were being sent to Sector General, Conway thought as he watched another litter go by with its pressure envelope inflated and its organic contents so hidden by life-support equipment that it was difficult even to be sure of its physiological classification. His own opinion was that this was a borderline case between Groups Two and Three.

“That is the last casualty on this trip, Doctor,” said Naydrad quickly. “We must leave at once to bring back another batch.”

The Kelgian turned and began undulating towards
Rhabwar
’s boarding tube. Danalta’s shape became that of a dark green ball again, featureless except for an eye and a mouth which regarded him and spoke.

“You will already have noticed, Doctor,” it said, “that Senior Physician Prilicla has a very high regard for the surgical ability of its colleagues and it is, moreover, extremely averse to placing any of the casualties in the hopeless category.”

The mouth smoothed out and the eye withdrew as the TOBS rolled quickly away in Naydrad’s wake.

He learned of the return of
Rhabwar
with its last batch of Menelden casualties as he was about to attend his first Meeting of Diagnosticians. As he was the most recent probationary member, his sudden withdrawal for the purpose of exchanging a few words with Murchison would most certainly be considered impolite and downright insubordinate, and so their next meeting would again be delayed. His feelings about that were mostly of relief, and of shame at feeling relieved. He took his place, not expecting to make any important contribution to such august proceedings.

Nervously he looked across at O’Mara, the only other non-Diagnostician present, who sat dwarfed by the massive Thornnastor on one side and the coldly radiating spherical pressure envelope of Semlic, the SNLU methane-breathing Diagnostician from the cold levels. The Chief Psychologist stared back at him without expression. The features of the other Diagnosticians ranged around the room, sitting, crouching, hanging from or otherwise occupying the furniture designed for their bodily comfort, were likewise unreadable even though several of them were watching him.

Ergandhir, one of the Melfan ELNTs present, spoke first. “Before we discuss the Menelden casualties to be assigned to us, work which of necessity has the greatest priority, are there any less urgent matters requiring general discussion and guidance? Conway, as the most recent recruit to the ranks of the voluntary insane, you must be encountering a few problems.”

“A few,” Conway agreed. Hesitantly, he added, “At present they
are mechanical, temporarily beyond my scope, or completely insoluble.”

“Please specify,” an unidentified entity said at the other side of the room. It could have been one of the Kelgians, whose speaking orifices barely moved during a conversation. “It is to be hoped that all of these problems are temporarily insoluble.”

For a moment Conway felt like a junior intern again, being criticized by a senior tutor for loose and emotional thinking, and the criticism was well deserved. He had to get a grip on himself and start thinking straight, with all five of his minds.

He said clearly, “The mechanical problems arise from the necessity of providing a suitable environment and treatment facilities for the Protector of the Unborn, before it gives birth and—”

“Pardon the interruption, Conway,” Semlic broke in, “but it is unlikely that we can help directly with this problem. You were instrumental in rescuing the being from its wrecked ship, you had brief telepathic communication with the intelligent embryo, and you are therefore the only entity with sufficient firsthand knowledge to solve it. May I say, with sympathy, that you are welcome to this problem.”

“While I cannot help you directly,” Ergandhir joined in, “I can make available physiological and behavioral data on a similar Melfan life-form which, like the young Protector, is born fully formed and capable of defending itself. Birth takes place only once in the parent’s lifetime, and there are invariably four young as a result. They attack and endeavor to eat the parent, who usually manages to defend itself sufficiently well if not to survive, then at least to kill one or two of its offspring, who sometimes try to kill one another. Were this not so they would long since have overrun my planet. The species is not sentient…”

“Thank heaven for that,” O’Mara murmured.

“…Or ever likely to become so,” Ergandhir went on. “I have studied your reports on the Protector with great interest, Conway, and shall be pleased to discuss this material with you if you think it might be helpful. But you mentioned other problems.”

Conway nodded as the Melfan material in his mind surfaced with pictures of the tiny, lizardlike creatures which infested the food-growing areas of Melf, and which had survived in spite of the most large-scale and sophisticated efforts at extermination. He could see
the parallels between them and the Protectors, and would certainly talk to the Melfan Diagnostician as soon as the opportunity arose.

He went on. “The apparently insoluble problem is Goglesk. This is not an urgent problem, except to me, because there is personal involvement. For this reason I should not waste your time by—”

“I was not aware,” one of the two Illensan PVSJs present said, twitching restively inside its chlorine envelope, “that a Gogleskan tape was available.”

Conway had forgotten for a moment that “personal involvement” was one of the phrases used by Diagnosticians and tape-bearing Senior Physicians to inform each other that their minds were carrying the memory-record of a member of the species under discussion. Before he could reply, O’Mara spoke quickly.

“There is no tape available,” he said. “The memory transfer was accidental and involuntary, and occurred when Conway was visiting the planet. He may wish to discuss the details with you at some future date, but I agree with him that such a discussion now would be time-consuming and inconclusive.”

They were all staring at him, but it was Semlic, who had changed lenses on its external vision pickup so as to see him more closely, who asked the question first.

“Am I to understand that you possess a memory record which cannot be erased, Conway?” it said. “This is a most disquieting thought for me. I myself am gravely troubled by my overcrowded mind and have seriously considered returning to Senior Physician status by drastically reducing the number of my tapes. But my alter egos are guests who can always be forced to leave should their presence become unbearable. But one memory record in permanent residence, without the possibility of erasure, is more than enough. None of your colleagues would think any less highly of you if you were to do as I am about to do and have the other tapes erased…”

“Semlic has been about to do that,” O’Mara said quietly, with his translator switched off so that only Conway could hear him, “every few days for the past sixteen years. But it is right. If there are serious problems as a result of the Gogleskan presence reacting against the others, erase them. There would be no discredit attached, no inadequacy of personality implied, and it would, in fact, be the sensible course. But then, nobody could describe you as being sensible.”

“…And among my mind-guests,” Semlic was saying when Conway returned his attention to the SNLU, “are a number of entities who have had, well, very interesting and unorthodox lives. With all this nonmedical experience available I may be able to advise you should you encounter personal problems with Pathologist Murchison—”

“With
Murchison
!…” Conway said, incredulously.

“It is possible,” Semlic replied, missing or ignoring the overtones. “All here have the greatest respect for its professional competence and its personal disposition, and I, personally, would not like to think that it would suffer any emotional trauma because I had omitted to advise you, Conway. You are fortunate indeed to have such an entity as your life-mate. Naturally, I have no personal physical interest in this being…”

“I’m relieved to hear that,” Conway said, looking frantically to O’Mara for help. It was beginning to sound as if the SNLU Diagnostician was going out of its super-cooled, crystalline mind. But the Chief Psychologist ignored him.

“…My enthusiasm stems from the DBDG Earth-human tape which has been occupying an undue portion of my mind since I began talking to you,” the SNLU went on, “and which belonged to a very fine surgeon who was inordinately fond of activities associated with reproduction. For this reason I find your DBDG female most disturbing. It possesses the ability to communicate nonverbally, and perhaps unconsciously, during ambulation, and the mammary area is particularly—”

“With me,” Conway broke in hastily, “it is that Hudlar trainee in the FROB infants’ ward.”

It turned out that several of the Diagnosticians present were carrying Hudlar physiology tapes and were not averse to discussing the nurse’s professional competence and physical attributes at length, but the SNLU cut them short.

“This discussion must be giving Conway the wrong impression about us,” Semlic said, its external vision pickups swiveling to include everyone in the room. “It might conceivably lower the high opinion Conway has of Diagnosticians, whose deliberations it would expect to be on a more rarefied professional level. Let me reassure it on your behalf that we are simply showing our latest potential
member that the majority of its problems are not new and have been solved, in one way or another, and usually with the help of colleagues who are more than willing to assist it at any time.”

“Thank you,” Conway said.

“Judging by the continued silence of the Chief Psychologist,” Semlic went on, “you must be coping fairly well up to now. But there is some small assistance I may be able to render you, and it is environmental rather than personal. You may visit my levels at any time, the only proviso being that you remain in the observation gallery.

“Few, indeed, are the warm-blooded, oxygen-breathers who take a professional interest in my patients,” the SNLU added, “but if you should be the exception, then special arrangements will have to be made.”

“No, thank you,” Conway said. “I could not make any useful contribution to subzero crystalline medicine just now, if ever.”

“Nevertheless,” the methane-breather went on, “should you visit us, be sure to increase your audio sensitivity and switch off your translator, then listen. A number of your warm-blooded colleagues have derived a certain amount of comfort from the result.”

“Cold comfort,” O’Mara said dryly, and added, “We are devoting an unfair proportion of our time to Conway’s personal problems rather than to those of his patients.”

Conway looked around at the others, wondering how many of them were carrying FROB physiology tapes. He said, “There is the Hudlar geriatric problem. Specifically, the decision whether to involve the patient in a dangerous multiple amputation procedure which, if successful, will prolong life for a comparatively short time, or to allow nature to take its course. In the former event the quality of the prolonged life leaves much to be desired.”

Ergandhir’s beautifully marked exoskeletal body moved forward in its frame, and the lower mandible moved in time with its translated words. “That is a situation I have run against many times, as have we all, and with species other than the Hudlars. The result in my own case has been, to use a Melfan metaphor, a badly chipped carapace. Essentially it is an ethical decision, Conway.”

“Of course it is!” one of the Kelgians said before Conway could reply. “The decision will be a close and personal one. However, from
my knowledge of the Doctor concerned the probability is that Conway will opt for surgical intervention rather than a clinical observation of the patient to the terminal phase.”

“I am inclined to agree,” Thornnastor said, speaking for the first time. “If a situation is inherently hopeless, it is better to do something rather than nothing. And with an operating environment making it difficult for other species to work effectively, an experienced Earth-human surgeon might expect good results.”

“Earth-human DBDGs are not the best surgeons in the Galaxy,” the Kelgian joined in again, its rippling fur indicating to those carrying DBLF tapes the feelings which were concealed by its unsubtle mode of speech. “The Tralthans, Melfans, Cinrusskins, we Kelgians are more surgically adept in certain circumstances. But there are situations where this dexterity cannot be brought to bear because of environmental conditions…”

“The operating theater must suit the patient,” a voice broke in, “and not the Doctor.”

“…Or physiological factors in the surgeon,” the Kelgian went on. “Protective garments or vehicles required to work in hostile environments inhibit the finer movements of manipulatory appendages and digits, and remotely controlled manipulators lack precision or are subject to malfunction at the most critical times. The DBDG hand, however, can be protected against a large number of hostile environments by a ridiculously thin glove which does not inhibit digital movements, and the supporting musculature is such that they can operate with minimal loss of efficiency in the presence of elevated pressure and gravity. The hands remain operational even when projecting a short distance beyond the field of the gravity nullifiers. Although crudely formed and comparatively restricted in their movements, the DBDG hands can go anywhere, surgically speaking, and—”

“Not everywhere, Conway,” Semlic broke in. “I’ll thank you to keep your superheated hands off
my
patients.”

“Diagnostician Kursedth is being diplomatic, for a Kelgian,” Ergandhir said. “It is complimenting you while explaining why you are likely to get more than your share of the nasty jobs.”

“I guessed as much,” Conway said, laughing.

“Very well,” Thornnastor said. “We shall now consider the urgent matter of the Menelden casualties. If you will kindly regard
your displays, we will discuss their present clinical condition, projected treatment and the assignments of surgical responsibility…”

The polite inquiries, sympathy, and advice which, Conway now realized, had cloaked a searching examination of his feelings and professional attitudes, were over for the time being. Thornnastor, the hospital’s most experienced and senior Diagnostician, had taken charge of the meeting.

“…You can see that the majority of the cases,” the Tralthan went on, “have been assigned to Senior Physicians of various physiological classifications whose capabilities are more than equal to the tasks. Should unforeseen difficulties arise, one of ourselves will be called on to assist. A much smaller number of casualties, the really nasty cases, will be our direct responsibility. Some of you have been given only one of these patients, for reasons which will become obvious when you study the case notes, and others have been given more. Before you begin organizing your surgical teams and planning the procedures in detail, are there any comments?”

For the first few minutes they were all too busy studying the details of the cases assigned to them to have anything useful to say, and the initial comments were more in the nature of complaints.

“These two cases you’ve given me, Thornnastor,” Ergandhir said, tapping one of its hard, sharply tapered pincers against its display screen. “They have so many compound and comminuted fractures between them that if they survive at all, they will be carrying so much wiring, pins, and plating that induction will elevate their body temperatures every time they approach a power generator. And what were two Orligian DBDGs doing there anyway?”