James White - Final Diagnosis

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Hewlitt, and laughed. “But am I missing something? Why is the creature a serious and urgent problem when you said yourself that it means no harm and is doing good work? So you have another weird, other-species doctor loose in the hospital. What else is new?”

Murchison did not smile, Danalta’s body wobbled, and Naydrad’s fur twitched into even stranger patterns, and it was clear that Prilicla was not appreciating his attempt at humor either.

“The virus creature does not intend to do harm,” it said. “But then, it was not trying to harm you when its good intentions resulted in twenty years of clinical confusion and psychological distress. At present it seems anxious to experiment by changing hosts as often as possible, and the unintentional harm and confusion it could cause in a multienvironment hospital, where there is a choice of sixty-odd different species among the patients and staff, doesn’t bear thinking about.”

For an instant Hewlitt felt the twisting sensation of an emergence from hyperspace. The direct-vision panel was showing the starry blackness of normal space and the blazing, multicolored lights of Sector General, which made the hospital look enormous even at Jump distance. Only he seemed to be looking at it.

“Our first priority is to find, isolate, and withdraw the creature from its current host,” said Prilicla, speaking to the others. “Then we must learn to talk to an entity who has no direct channels of communication other than the feelings it receives and radiates. Somehow we must devise a means of two-way communication so that we can reassure it, and obtain its permission for an extended, clinical investigation, before asking questions about its evolutionary background, physiology, physical and psychological needs, and, most important of all, its method and frequency of reproduction. If all goes well, and we can only hope that it does, we must decide whether or not it or its offspring can be allowed any more hosts.

“I should explain that the personal physician of Lonvellin, Morredeth, and yourself,” Prilicla went on for Hewlitt’s benefit, “could render all other physicians redundant. It is the only known specimen of a truly unique life-form, and if the species can reproduce itself in sufficient numbers and be active among other species without harmful side effects, medicine throughout the Galactic Federation will be reduced to the practice of accident and emergency surgical procedures.”

They were all looking at the empath so intently that the accompanying emotional radiation had forced it to land again. Hewlitt was at a loss to understand it. Surely the things the empath had been saying were good and exciting news for any truly dedicated member of the medical profession. Why did he have the distinct impression that Prilicla was trying to reassure the others as much as itself, and it had failed? Hewlitt was the first to break the silence.

“I’m sorry if you still have problems,” he said, “and I don’t want to appear selfish, but I have more questions. If the virus creature has left me, and your tests have shown that I am no longer allergic to medication, does that mean that I’m cured of the other problems, too? And does it mean that when I return to Earth I won’t have to, well, avoid female company or…

“That is exactly what it means,” Murchison broke in, “when you return home.”

Hewlitt gave along, satisfied sigh. He wanted to tell these people how grateful he was for all they had done for him. Even though they had not believed him at first, they had not given up on his case as all the Earthside medics had done. But the right words would not come and all he could say was “So my troubles are over.

“Your troubles,” said Naydrad, “are just beginning.”

“There speaks a true misogynist…“Hewlitt began, when there was an interruption from the wall speaker.

“Dr. Prilicla, the hospital is transmitting a recorded message with an Emergency Three coding on all non-Service frequencies. It says that all incoming ships with noncritical casualties on board should divert to the nearest same-species hospital. Only urgent cases which have obtained diagnostician clearance are to be admitted until further notice. Incoming transport and supply vessels are requested to position themselves beyond the inner beacons and prepare for a possible mass evacuation of all patients and staff. They say it is a power-generation problem and Maintenance is dealing with it.

“I’m trying to raise someone who knows what the hell is going on…

Hewlitt returned to Sector General, but not as a patient and not to Ward Seven. Instead he had been assigned Earth-human DBDG single accommodation. Since patients like himself were not allowed to bring many personal possessions with them, the place was bare but comfortable. He was issued with a set of medic’s coveralls which, with the addition of a helmet and surgical gauntlets, doubled as a lightweight environmental protection suit. All direct physical contact with other people was forbidden, but the helmet was allowed to remain open because the intelligent virus was not transmissible by air. He was told not to go exploring within the hospital unless accompanied by one of Rhabwar’s medical team or a member of the Psychology Department. In the event, he was accompanied and questioned so much during the first three days that the compartment was used only for sleeping.

With great reluctance he had agreed to remain in the hospital, it being very difficult not to agree when Prilicla asked a favor, in the hope that he would be able to help find the virus creature’s current host. Counting all the patients and staff, there were more than ten thousand places for it to hide. When he told the other that his contribution would be negligible and he would rather go home, Prilicla had changed the subject.

Early on the fourth day, Braithwaite called to take him to what the lieutenant thought would probably be a lack-of-progress meeting in the chief psychologist’s office. As soon as they arrived it was clear that everyone had been waiting for them.

“Mr. Hewlitt, I am Diagnostician Conway,” said a tall Earthhuman whose features were shaded by his helmet. “For your benefit I shall outline the situation as simply as possible while hoping that you won’t be offended by the simplification. Please listen carefully and feel free to interrupt if you think it necessary.

“In order to avoid unnecessary speculation and consequent mental distress among the hospital personnel,” he went on, looking in turn at the people who were crowding Chief Psychologist O’Mara’s office, “I suggest that all knowledge of this search and its object be limited to those present, who are the only people with some idea of what we are looking for, and, naturally, the senior staff members who are already aware of the problem…

And the suggestion of a diagnostician, Hewlitt had learned, was nothing less than an entry in future history.

… even though it is extremely unlikely that we will find the entity in its natural state,” he continued, “which the last time I saw it was a fist-sized lump of pink, translucent jelly, although the coloration may have been due to a minor loss of blood while it was being surgically excised from Lonvellin’s body…

Major O’Mara, Hewlitt decided, had to be the elderly, sternfaced officer in Monitor green who was seated at the big desk with Braithwaite standing beside him and Conway and the Rhabwar medical team facing them. They were all wearing lightweight suits, including Prilicla, who was using a gravity nullifier pack to hover because its wings were tightly folded inside the protective envelope. Apart from Naydrad, who had found a physiologically suitable piece of furniture to occupy, everyone stood and listened in silence.