Дэймон Найт - Orbit 12

The third creature was a blue cone that Nert hoped was not a native of Fomalhaut VII. Nert walked to a shadow in the corner, getting as far away from the being as he could.

For a long time the only sound was that of the uncomfortable creature rearranging its legs. Every time it moved, it made a squealing noise, like rubber rubbing against rubber. The squealing was punctuated by its soft grunts. Antiseptic doctor’s office smell covered everything.

Nert saw the room through a slit cut in the blanket. The darkness, the overclean smell, and the constant unsettled sound made Nert feel trapped. He wanted to go down the stairs and tell Herbie that he didn’t want the thousand credits back. It was not a strong urge, but it was a pleasant one. Thinking about it occupied Nert’s mind while he was waiting.

The uncomfortable creature tried to start a conversation with him but Nert didn’t know how Fomalhautians sounded. When he didn’t answer, the creature, who had introduced itself as Cavendish, was discouraged and left Nert alone.

A few moments later the door at the back of the room opened and a being shaped like a large barrel rolled out, followed by Dr. Billingsley. The doctor stood in the doorway and said as it crossed the room, “Watch your ethylene intake for a while and you’ll be all right in no time.” An arm extended from either end of the barrel and pulled the door open. A moment later Nert heard the being bouncing down the stairs.

“Next!”

“That’s me, Doc,” Cavendish said as it dropped rung by rung off the chair. It slithered across the floor, complaining of fading color and puffy growths at the roots of its tentacles. The doctor nodded, and Cavendish was still explaining when the door to the examination room closed behind him.

A white sheet that had been sitting on the back of a couch flapped into the air, landed, and draped itself over the back of the chair Cavendish had just left. It twittered for a moment and then was silent. Nert had thought it was part of the decor. He studied it closely now and saw that things he had taken for small holes in the fabric were really eyes.

While he waited his turn, Nert watched the Fomalhautian. It was a light-blue cone with a small eyehole near the top, the pointed end. It hadn’t moved since Nert came in. Nert remembered what he’d looked like in the mirror with his disguise on, and decided he could pass for one of them for as long as he had to. Hoping to hear its voice, Nert said, “How are things on the home world?”

There was a long silence. Nert thought the being was ignoring him or hadn’t heard, but it finally said, “The gorbash is blooming. All the locals have translated. Summer is a-comin’ in, birdie sing coo-coo.” Its voice was little more than a modulated grunt Nert would be able to imitate it without much trouble. He said, “Glad to hear it,” and was relieved when the creature didn’t try to continue the conversation.

After a while the multilegged creature came out of the doctor’s office. It walked stiffly, wrapped in white tape. At the front door it said a muffled, “Thanks, Doc,” and left

“Next!”

The Fomalhautian extended a jointed tentacle from beneath its base and pointed at the dracoid. “I believe he was next”

Dr. Billingsley walked to the sleeping creature and kicked it in the side, making its scales jingle. In a moment the dracoid yawned, stretched, and looked around with its eyes half-closed. When it stretched, it knocked over an overstuffed chair and nearly demolished a lamp; Nert jumped out of the way before its tail could poke out one of his eyes.

The dracoid squeezed through the door into the inner office, and its scales cut deeply into the wooden doorframe.

When it came out, the sheet creature and the Fomalhautian argued about who should go in next. The Fomalhautian said it would be with the doctor a long time, so the other creature should go first. Nert didn’t care who went first, as long as they hurried. The freighter left in a few hours and he wanted to be on it. Besides, it couldn’t be very pleasant for Herbie down in that dark, dusty cellar.

At last the sheet creature was convinced and flapped after the doctor into the office.

“It’s a personal matter, really,” the Fomalhautian said when it was gone.

“Yes?” Nert tried to copy the other’s gruff voice.

The Fomalhautian went into a long explanation of how its arbis had been bothering it ever since it had come to Spangle, how it was afraid the thing might become inflamed and have to be cut out, leaving him without any means of corvaling. Nert had no idea what any of those things were, but he agreed that the Fomalhautian was wise to see a doctor.

The sheet creature flapped weakly out of the office. It had a grey splotch on its underside that it treated gingerlyas it pulled the door open and left

“Next!”

Nert knew the Fomalhautian would invite him to go first. If Nert argued with it politely, they would be there all night. Before the being could say anything, Nert said. “Your turn at last. And a good thing too. All that about your arbis sounds pretty serious.”

“But it’ll take so long.”

“That doesn’t make any difference. Your health is the important thing.”

Dr. Billingsley said, “Come on. You’ve put this off long enough,” and extended his hand to the Fomalhautian.

“Well—” The being landed on the floor in one jump and took little hopping steps into the examination room. Nert felt victorious when the door closed at last. The Fomalhautian would leave, and Nert would have Dr. Billingsley all to himself.

In the quiet, he could hear the Fomalhautian explaining what was wrong with itself, and Dr. Billingsley now and again asking a question or giving an answer. Nert opened the outside door and looked over the city. The sun was gone but the sky was ablaze with advertising. Projectors at the tops of tall buildings threw pictures on low clouds of beings eating exotic foods, doing entertaining things, performing stimulating acts. A light, cool breeze played with his olfactory nerves and washed away the smell of disinfectant while carrying soft and hard smells, and the tinkling sound of beings enjoying themselves a long way off. He thought about Herbie, down in the dusty murk of the abandoned laundry room, and wondered if he really could control his mazoola the way he said he could.

The door of the inner room opened and Nert turned back into the oppressive darkness and smell. “Well, how are you feeling now?”

The Fomalhautian leaped onto the couch and said, “I don’t know yet. The doctor is doing some tests.”

Dr. Billingsley looked at Nert. “You can come in now.”

Nert said, “Aren’t you going to finish with your other patient first? You know how the arbis is—”

“I can’t do anything until I know the results of those tests. While we’re waiting I have time to take care of you.”

As Nert hopped weakly into the examination room, he hoped things were not as disastrous as they suddenly appeared. He closed the door and faced Dr. Billingsley, who sat behind the desk. The faint smell of mittlebran pricked Nert like a million little needles and he involuntarily clicked his claws. They clattered like a ratchet wheel.

“What was that?”

“Nothing— Or, rather, that’s what I’ve come to see you about.” He stamped on the floor three times. “You see,” he said, watching the doctor closely, “every so often, for no reason at all my second stomach on the left starts chattering like that. It’s—”

He stopped. The doctor’s eyes got big and round and he desperately clutched his middle. He made small gagging sounds and tears began to drip from his eyes. He ran, half crouched, to the medicine cabinet and fumbled with the key in the lock. Dr. Billingsley was in no condition to notice anything but his own pain, or to concentrate on anything but relieving it.