Timothy Zahn - Judgment at Proteus

I looked down at Doug. I hadn’t considered the possibilities of him as a pack animal. “How much weight can they carry?”

“Why all the questions?” Wandek asked, frowning. “They’re really very simple animals.”

“I have a very simple curiosity,” I said. “How much weight?”

“I don’t know,” Wandek said, a little impatiently. Clearly, he had more important things on his mind right now. “If you really wish to know, you can look them up on the computer in your quarters. Everything there is to know about msikai-dorosli can be found there.”

We reached the building and went inside. Unlike the Shonkla-raa nest, this one was bustling with activity, with doctors in tan striding purposefully along or holding conversations in corners. Other Fillies in the full range of colored outfits manned desks or pushed carts or joined the doctors in their consultations. I spotted a couple more of the enlarged throats that I’d seen back in the other building with our Gang of Ten, but everyone else seemed normal. Or at least, what passed for normal in this genetics-crazy society.

A receptionist at one of the desks looked up as we approached. {We’re visiting Terese German,} Wandek said.

{Room 22, Usantra Wandek,} the Filly said, and gestured us down a side corridor. Midway along it was an open door with half-audible English mutterings emanating from inside. We reached it and went in.

In the middle of the room was a diagnostic bed similar to the Fibibib models common elsewhere in the galaxy but with some distinctly Filiaelian modifications to its design. Terese was lying on the bed, dressed now in a loose hospital gown, her eyes locked rigidly on the ceiling above her. Three doctors were standing around her, busily hooking up sample-taking equipment, while a blue-clad Filly was seated at an electronic console in one corner. Aronobal was off in a different corner, watching the procedure closely.

Trying to keep out of everyone’s way, Bayta and I slipped around to Aronobal’s corner. “How’s it going?” I asked.

“They have begun the preliminary tests,” Aronobal murmured, her eyes never leaving Terese.

“And then the treatment starts?”

“Once the tests have been evaluated, yes.”

I looked at Terese. She was still gazing at the ceiling, her face stony with nervous determination. “What sorts of tests are you running?” I asked.

“Tests that are none of your freaking business,” Terese bit out before Aronobal could answer. “Can someone throw them out? Please?”

“Hold still,” one of the other doctors said brusquely.

I frowned, taking another look at the activity around Terese. There was a hard edge to it all that I hadn’t noticed before.

I took a step closer to Aronobal. “What’s wrong?” I asked quietly.

She looked sideways at me, then nodded silently toward the door. I nudged Bayta, and together the three of us sidled along the edge of the room and escaped out into the corridor, followed by the watchdogs and Wandek. “Well?” I asked as Aronobal led us a few meters farther away.

Aronobal looked at Wandek, as if seeking permission to speak, then turned back to me. “The problem is not with Ms. German,” she said, keeping her voice low. “What I mean is that, although she has many physical problems of her own, our immediate concern is with her child. There appears to be some kind of unexpected stress in his heartbeat and brain-wave pattern.”

I looked at Bayta. Her face looked a little pinched. “How bad is it?” I asked. “Better question: what are they doing about it?”

“They will begin by taking samples of the fetal tissue and of the fluid in the birth sac,” Aronobal said. “Unfortunately, until this is settled we cannot begin work on Ms. German’s own problems.”

“Which are what exactly?” I asked. “I’ve never gotten a straight answer on that.”

Aronobal sighed, a soft whinnying thing. “She has at least four genetic disorders,” she said. “Possibly more—we have not yet done a complete mapping. Any one of the flaws could prove fatal to her over the next thirty years. Together, they are a virtual promise that her life will be cut tragically short.”

“Can you fix her?”

“We believe so,” she said. “But our knowledge of Humans and Human genetic structure is still woefully incomplete. That is indeed one reason she was invited to Proteus Station: to see whether we could map her genetic flaws and correct them.”

“But that’s now on hold?”

“It is the only safe way,” Aronobal said. “The work on Ms. German is extensive and deep, with the potential to put additional stress on the child. Were he healthy it would be a simple matter of screening out the treatment chemicals and monitoring his condition. But until we know what is causing these other anomalies we cannot risk any action that might precipitate his death.”

“And Ms. German cares about that?” I asked. “As I understand it, this child is the product of a vicious attack on her. Yet she still wants it to live?”

“ We want it to live,” Wandek put in firmly. “Despite what some Human cultures believe, all sentient life is sacred and must be protected and nurtured to the fullest extent of our abilities.”

“Very noble,” I said, watching him closely. “Yet the baby is Ms. German’s, not yours. Doesn’t she have a say in the matter? Especially since the baby is now getting in the way of her own treatment?”

Wandek drew himself up, his blaze mottling again. “The baby will be protected,” he said curtly. “We have not—” He broke off. “All sentient life is sacred,” he repeated.

“Of course,” I said, ducking my head humbly. I’d gotten what I’d been looking for. Time to backpedal. “Naturally, I agree. It’s just that there are many regions on Earth, with laws that vary widely from place to place.”

“This is the Filiaelian Assembly, not Earth,” Wandek said frostily, the mottling of his blaze slowly fading back to normal. “Only Filiaelian law has any bearing.”

“Of course,” I said again as I turned back to Aronobal. “Any idea how long the tests on Ms. German’s baby will take?”

“No,” Aronobal said. “If you like, I can put your name and comm number on the list of those to be informed of progress.”

“I’d appreciate that.” I gave her my number and Bayta’s and watched as she keyed them into her comm. “Can you tell me who we talk to about getting accommodations somewhere in this sector?” I asked when she’d finished.

“That has already been arranged,” Wandek said. “Speak with the receptionist at the door where we entered.”

“Thanks.” I started to turn away. “Oh. Does she happen to speak English?”

“You Humans,” Wandek said, his tone more resigned than angry. “So many of you seem to believe the galaxy must necessarily accommodate your needs and desires.”

“Yes, we’re funny that way,” I agreed. “Does she speak English, or doesn’t she?”

Wandek made an impatient-sounding rumble deep in his throat. “I will send an English-speaker to meet you at her desk,” he said, pulling out his comm. “I must return now to my work.”

“And I to observe the work on Ms. German’s child,” Aronobal added.

“Of course,” I said. “Thank you. Both of you.”

Whatever else one might say about Wandek, he definitely got fast results. By the time we reached the receptionist’s desk there was a young Filly in a pale green outfit already waiting for us. “You are the Human Compton?” he asked.

“Yes,” I acknowledged.

“Come with me,” he said, walking toward one of the corridors and motioning for us to follow. “Your quarters have been assigned.”