James White - The Galactic Gourmet

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 the 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.”