James White - Final Diagnosis

Hewlitt shook his head and watched while Lioren lowered two of its eyes in a gesture which probably meant the same thing.

“Good,” said O’Mara. “But you should think before agreeing so quickly to anything. I want both of you to spend every waking moment on this search. Since Prilicla is uncertain about its ability to isolate the virus from the other taped entities inhabiting their minds, your first step will be to eliminate the diagnosticians. There is a meeting in three hours’ time on Level Eighty-Three, Lioren knows where, and in view of the problem with the hospital’s powergeneration system, they will all attend. Wait outside the entrance, take a good look at them as they go in, and report your findings to me without delay. You will have many problems, Hewlitt, but the Padre will help you with them. Unless you two have anything else to contribute, this ends the nonmedical part of the discussion.”

“Wait,” said Hewlitt. “I’m worried about the power problem you mentioned. When Rhabwar was coming in we were told that the main reactor was…

“Worry if you must,” O’Mara broke in. “It is a technical problem to which we cannot begin to suggest a solution, and we have medical problems enough without us wasting our time trying.”

He nodded toward the door.

Fear was still his predominant emotion, Hewlitt thought as he traveled once again through the crowded, three-dimensional maze of hospital corridors on foot. He had not realized at the time how pleasant it had been to be riding in the security of a gravity litter driven by a Hudlar nurse so physically massive that everyone gave them the widest possible berth, and he knew that his present experience shouid have been even more terrifying. But the other-species confrontations, which could have resulted in physical and possibly life-threatening collisions, had not occurred because there was always a firm, medial Tarlan hand on his shoulder guiding him out of trouble. The reason he was so afraid but not paralyzed with fear was very difficult to understand.

He decided that his strange absence of terror must be due in part to Lioren, who kept talking about every walking, crawling, or wriggling nightmare they passed as if they were mutual acquaintances, and frequently in terms which, if the information was not already widely known as gossip, was stretching the rules of confidentiality to their elastic limits. A nightmare, he thought, should not have amusing stories told about it if it was to retain its full, terrifying effect. He wondered if he was at last beginning to see these creatures for what they were, and feeling an at times fearful curiosity about them instead of merely looking at them and wanting to react with his feet by running away.

Perhaps his uncharacteristic and continuing interest in the hospital’s extraterrestrials was a form of contagious curiosity and a legacy of the virus creature. He was about to mention the idea to the Padre when they turned into a long side corridor that, apart from themselves, was silent and empty.

“Staff accommodation,” Lioren explained. “It isn’t always as quiet as this, but right now the occupants are either on duty or asleep. This one is yours. I won’t go in because the place will be crowded enough with just you in it. But you should find it comfortable enough. Go in and look around.”

The room was a little larger in area but with a lower ceiling than his cabin on the ship that had brought him to Sector General. He was relieved to see that the overhead lighting was recessed, because his hair was brushing against the ceiling.

“The beds are much too short,” he protested. “My feet will hang over the end onto the floor.”

“Naturally,” said the Padre, bending forward so that it could move one eye and an arm into the room. “It belongs to two Nidians who are absent on a ship-rescue training course for the next few weeks. The beds are movable and can be joined end-to-end. Behind the brown door is a multispecies washroom similar to the one you used in Ward Seven. I hope the wall decorations are not distasteful to you. Both of the former occupants are male and obviously prefer Nidian female subjects to landscapes.”

Hewlitt looked at the pictures of red-furred teddy bears in what must have been provocative poses and tried not to laugh. He said, “I do not find them offensive.”

“Good,” said Lioren. “Over there is your control console. The seat is height-adjustable, the keys are large enough for Earth-human digits, and the display screen can be fine-tuned to your visual requirements. You can call up the usual entertainment, library, and training channels, and the yellow studs enclosed by the green rectangle control the menu display and selection instructions for the food dispenser. Are you as hungry as I am? Would you like to rest or go to the dining hall?”

“Yes,” said Hewlitt, “and I don’t know. Squeeze inside, I want to talk. Can I order something for us, and what would you suggest?”

Lioren hesitated, “By tomorrow your dispenser will have been reprogrammed to supply basic Earth meals,” it said. “The taste difference between Nidian and Earth-human food is practically indistinguishable, and equally revolting to a Tarlan. I would prefer to use the main dining hall and so, I feel sure, would you. There the own-species menu is more extensive so that you would have no trouble finding something you like.”

It was Hewlitt’s turn to hesitate. He said, “Will it be very crowded? Worse than the corridors, I mean? And how am I expected to, well, behave?”

“All of the warm-blooded oxygen-breathers on the staff dine there,” said the Padre, “although not, you will be pleased to hear, at the same time. Everyone will be sitting, kneeling, or standing around tables and eating, not trying to avoid colliding with each other. Besides, if we can find an empty table close to the entrance- and there should be no problem there, because it is not a popular area-we will be able to work while we eat.”

“Work?” said Hewlitt, feeling stupid. Too much was happening to him in too short a time. “How?”

“By exercising our newly acquired talent for detection,” said the Padre, “and scanning the staff members as they arrive or leave for evidence of past occupation by the virus. Even if the results are negative, it will be an effective method of eliminating a large number of staff members from the search so that we can concentrate more of our available time on the patients and on-duty ward staff. The present host must be found, quickly. A virus entity like that loose in a multispecies hospital doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“But why?” asked Hewlitt. “So far as I can see the creature has done no harm to anyone, the reverse in fact. The hospital is in the business of healing people and so is the virus creature. Why is everybody so worried about it? I wanted to ask O’Mara about that earlier but he didn’t give me the chance. And on Rhabwar they avoided the question.”

Lioren backed into the corridor and waited until Hewlitt had closed the room door behind him before it said, “Regrettably, I must do the same.”

“But why, dammit?” Hewlitt said angrily. “I’m not a patient anymore. You don’t have to keep medical secrets from me.”

“Because we don’t have the answer for you,” Lioren replied. “Your mind will be easier if we do not burden it with the unnecessary weight of our own fears and uncertainties.”

“Personally,” said Hewlitt, “I prefer uneasiness to ignorance.”

“Personally,” said Lioren, “I prefer to expect the worst while hoping for the best, which means that I am never disappointed when a result is less than a total disaster or, as may well be the case here, our concern is unfounded. We must avoid frightening ourselves unnecessarily. And the answer to your earlier question is that there aren’t any.