The Galactic Gourmet sg-9 Read online

  “Please forgive me,” said O’Mara in a voice which seemed to be totally devoid of contrition. “Why have you decided to favor this particular hospital with your artistry?”

  “Because it represents a challenge to me,” he replied fiercely. “Perhaps the ultimate challenge, because Sector General is the biggest and best. That is not a clumsy attempt at flattering you or your hospital; it is a widely-known fact.”

  O’Mara inclined its head slightly and said, “It is a fact known to each and every member of the hospital staff. And I’m pleased that you have not tried to use flattery on me, clumsy or otherwise, because it doesn’t work. Neither can I conceive of any circumstances where I would use it on another entity — although I have been known, on a very few occasions, to stoop to politeness. Do we understand each other? — And this time you may take a few more words to answer the questions,” it went on before Gurronsevas could reply. “What is there about this medical madhouse that attracted you, why did you decide to come, and what kind of influence do you have that you were able to swing it? Were you unhappy with your previous establishment or superiors, or they with you?”

  “Of course not!” said Gurronsevas. “It was the Cromingan-Shesk in Retlin on Nidia, the largest and most highly-acclaimed multi-species hotel and restaurant in the Federation. They treated me very well there, and had that not been so there were several other establishments that vied with each other to obtain my services. I was quite happy there until about a year ago, when I spoke with the Monitor Corps ranking officer on Nidia Base, Fleet Commander Roonardth, a Kelgian.”

  Gurronsevas paused, remembering the ridiculously short and simple conversation that had brought his former life of contentment and boredom to an end.

  “Go on,” said O’Mara quietly.

  “Roonardth wished to compliment me in person,” Gurronsevas went on, “and it was a personage of sufficient importance for me to be called to its table so that it could do so. Kelgians are, as you know, very forthright beings who are psychologically incapable of lying or even of being polite. During the conversation that ensued it said that it had just consumed the finest meal of Crelletin vine-shoots in its life, rendered even more enjoyable because of its recent stay in Sector General where it had been taken after an unspecified but clearly life-threatening accident in space. Roonardth had no complaints about the medical services, but said that when it criticized the meals being served, it was told by an Earth-human DBDG nurse of a conspiracy aimed at poisoning long-stay patients whose convalescence was overlong, but that it was nevertheless fortunate in that it did not have to eat in the staff dining hall.

  “The Fleet Commander said that no doubt the remark was an example of what Earth-humans called humor,” he went on, “but it also suggested that if someone like Gurronsevas (if there were anyone else like Gurronsevas) were to take charge of Sector General’s commissariat, then patient recuperation and staff morale would be greatly enhanced. It was a high compliment that gave me much pleasure. But later I began thinking about it and feeling dissatisfied with a style of life which, I realized, had become pointless and boring. When Roonardth next came in to dine, I excelled myself so as to have the opportunity of speaking to it again, and I asked if the Fleet Commander’s earlier suggestion had been a serious one.

  “It was,” Gurronsevas ended, “and Roonardth had the rank and sufficient influence with the department responsible for maintaining the hospital to have me sent, after a wait of a year, to Sector General.”

  “Yes,” said O’Mara. “Roonardth carried enough clout. I assume that you spent the waiting time familiarizing yourself with the layout and organization of the hospital? And, like any eager little newcomer, you are anxious to make a good impression on everyone as quickly as possible, and have already made plans to that effect?”

  Gurronsevas’ first thought was to point out to the diminutive Earth-human that, possessing as he did more than five times the other’s body mass, he could scarcely be described as ‘little.’ Then he decided that O’Mara must have used the word deliberately in an attempt to unsettle him, and answered simply, “Yes.”

  The Major regarded him in silence for a moment, then it nodded and briefly showed its teeth. “In that case, what are your immediate intentions?”

  “As soon as possible,” said Gurronsevas, trying to control his enthusiasm, “I shall call a meeting of all hospital food technicians and associated medical personnel, with the purpose of introducing myself to those few who may not already know of of me by reputation …”

  O’Mara was holding up one hand. It said, “All food technicians? Even the chlorine-breathers, and the ultra-low temperature and other exotic life-forms?”

  “Of course,” Gurronsevas replied. “But I would not make any major changes in the exotics’ diets …”

  “Thank God for that,” said O’Mara.

  “… Without first making a careful study of the probable effects and obtaining the medical and technical advice of those with prior experience. But in time I intend to increase the present range of my culinary expertise, extensive though it already is, to include the dietary requirements of species other than the warm-blooded oxygen-breathers. I am now, after all, the hospital’s Chief Dietitian.”

  O’Mara was moving its head from side to side in a gesture, Gurronsevas had learned, that indicated non-verbal negation. Impatiently he wondered what objection this unpleasant entity had to him doing his job.

  “I’ll tell you exactly what you are,” said O’Mara, “and what you will do. You are a potentially dangerous contradiction. As a newcomer to the hospital without prior technical or medical training you should be classified as a trainee. Instead you have arrived as the head of a department whose ramifications are completely unknown to you. Two points in your favor are that you are aware of your ignorance; and, unlike our trainees, you have wide experience of other-species social contact. Nevertheless, you will soon be faced with and have to adapt to physiological types not normally found in the dining rooms of the ultra-exclusive Hotel Cromingan-Shesk. Since you appear to have a high opinion of your own importance and I, on rare occasions, am capable of exercising tact, I have avoided using the words will or must do, even though they are more appropriate in this case. No, don’t interrupt.

  “While you are learning the ropes,” O’Mara continued, “please remember that, in spite of the influence you may have with the high-ranking gourmets of the Monitor Corps, you are here on probation, the period of which can be shortened in three ways. One, you may find the work too much for you and decide to resign. Two, I decide that the work is too much for you and kick you out. Three, and this is an improbability that comes within the category of wish-fulfillment, you display such a high level of aptitude that we are forced to confirm your position and request that you stay.

  “Before you do or plan anything,” it went on, “familiarize yourself with the hospital. Take all the time you need — within reason — to settle in. Before making any dietary changes have them vetted by the Diagnostician-in-Charge of the relevant department for possibly harmful medical effects. Should you encounter any psychological problems of your own I will, of course, try to assist you — provided you can satisfy me that you are not able to solve them yourself. If you have any other problems or questions while settling in, call on Lieutenant Timmins for help. You will find, if you have not already done so, that he is a polite and helpful person and one of the few people in this place who, unlike myself, seem able to suffer fools gladly.

  “When I have more time to spare,” it continued, “we will discuss the boring administrative details. Your salary, entitlement to paid leave and reduced transportation charges to your home world or chosen place of vacation, and supplies of free protective clothing and equipment. With or without the clothing you should wear a trainee’s arm- or leg-band so that—”

  “Enough!” said Gurronsevas loudly, making no attempt to hide his feeling of outrage. “I require no salary. By the exercise of my unique talents I have al
ready amassed more wealth than I could hope to spend during the rest of my life, no matter how profligate I should become. And I remind you again that I am a specialist renowned throughout the Federation and not a trainee, so I shall wear no trainee’s badge or—”

  “As you wish,” said O’Mara quietly. “Is there anything else you wish to say to me? No? Then I expect you have other things to do less wasteful of your time and mine.”

  The Chief Psychologist glanced pointedly at its wrist chronometer, then tapped briefly on its console. When its communicator lit up it said quietly, “Braithwaite, I will see Senior Physician Cresk-Sar now.”

  Gurronsevas returned to the outer office seething with anger and making no attempt to place his feet quietly on the floor. The Nidian Senior waiting to see O’Mara took hasty evasive action while all the eyes of the department’s staff remained firmly on their work displays, even though small items of equipment resting on the console desks were vibrating noisily with every foot-fall. He stopped only when he reached the waiting Timmins.

  “That is a most infuriating entity,” he said angrily. “As a Healer of the Mind it is incredibly lacking in sympathy or sensitivity, and, although I am not in that profession, I would say that it causes more psychological distress than it cures.”

  Timmins was shaking its head slowly. It said, “You are quite wrong, sir. The Major is fond of saying that his job here is to shrink heads, not swell them. If the meaning of that particular Earth-human phrase is unclear to you I will explain it later. He is a very good psychologist, the best that any mentally distressed or traumatized entity could wish for, but he also likes to project the image of a thoroughly nasty and sarcastic person to those friends and colleagues about whom he has no cause for professional concern. If he were ever to show you sympathy and concern, and to act towards you as a patient rather than a colleague, you would be in real trouble.”

  “I–I’m not sure that I understand,” said Gurronsevas.

  “In fact, sir,” said the Lieutenant, smiling again, “you showed commendable restraint. The inner office is supposed to be soundproofed and we heard your voice raised only once. Many of the others try to slam the door on the way out.”

  “Lieutenant,” said Gurronsevas, “it is a sliding door.”

  “Even so,” said Timmins.

  CHAPTER 3

  The compartment was much smaller than his former quarters in Retlin, but a beautiful and almost three-dimensional picture of Tralthan mountain scenery that covered one wall gave it a feeling of spaciousness, while the colors used to decorate the other walls and ceiling were identical to those he had left. A small but adequate body-immersion pit, terraced on one side for ease of entry, was recessed into the floor under the picture wall. There was a gravity control unit so that he could increase the compartment’s G-level for exercise or relaxation, since the standard gravity pull used inside the hospital was just over half Tralthan normal. A console with communicator and large view-screen was set into one corner, and the two containers (one large and one small) that had come with him on Tennochlan were already waiting inside the entrance.

  “This is unexpected and very pleasant, Lieutenant Timmins,” said Gurronsevas. “My thanks for your efforts in making it so.”

  Timmins smiled and made a dismissive gesture with one hand, then used it to point at the communications console.

  “The operation is standard,” it said, “and there are a large number of medical training and information channels available, including one covering the detailed geography of the hospital which you will find helpful, with a recall provision for study purposes if required. To understand them you will need to use your multichannel translator pack; that’s it lying on top of your console. Unfortunately, the entertainment channels are, well …I know the Earth-human material is old and not very good, and the other-species staff have similar complaints. There is a rumor, never officially denied by O’Mara, that the Senior Physician in charge of training, Cresk-Sar, has deliberately arranged this to encourage more study during leisure periods.”

  “I understand,” said Gurronsevas, “and sympathize.”

  Timmins smiled again and said, “You have concealed storage spaces here and here, and recessed attachment points for any pictures or wall hangings you may have. They work like this. Would you like help unpacking and arranging your personal effects?”

  “Since I have very few, that will not be necessary,” Gurronsevas replied, and pointed. “But as quickly as possible I would like that larger container to be stored under moderate refrigeration where I can have ready access to it. The contents will be required for my work.”

  The expression on Timmins’ soft, yellow-pink features was probably one of curiosity, which Gurronsevas did not intend to satisfy as yet, then it said, “There is a cold-storage facility at the other end of your corridor. We don’t need to waste time going for a gravity sled; it isn’t very heavy.”

  A few minutes later Gurronsevas’s precious container was in a cool, safe place, and Timmins went on, “Would you like to rest now, sir? Or tour part of the hospital, or maybe visit our dining hall for warm-blooded oxygen-breathers?”

  “None of those,” Gurronsevas replied. “I will return to my quarters and familiarize myself with the hospital layout. Then I would like to find my way to the dining hall, alone. Sooner rather than later I must learn to — how does your species put it? — stand on my own six feet.”

  “Understood, sir,” said Timmins. “You have my personal comm code. Call me if you need help.”

  “My thanks, Lieutenant,” said Gurronsevas. “I will need help — but hopefully not too often.”

  Timmins raised one hand and left without speaking.

  Next day Gurronsevas was able to find his way to the correct level without having to ask anyone for directions, but this was because, during the final stages of the journey, he followed two Melfan student nurses who were discussing the necessity for hurrying their next meal to avoid being late for a lecture. He was sure, however, that he would be able to find the place again without passive guidance.

  In the four principal languages spoken throughout the Federation — Tralthan, Orligian, Earth-human and Illensan — and as a spoken identification for translation by the other user species, the sign above the wide, doorless entrance announced Main Dining Hall, species classifications DBDG, DBLF, DBPK, DCNF, EGCL, ELNT, FGLI and FROB. Species GKNM & GLNO at own risk. Gurronsevas moved inside and stopped, paralyzed as much by the sight of so many other species together in one place as by the muted roar of their barking, grunting, growling, cheeping and whistling conversations.

  Gurronsevas did not know how long he stood staring across that vast expanse of highly polished floor with its regimented islands of eating benches and seating grouped together by size to accommodate the incredible variety of beings using them. It was far beyond anything in his previous experience. He identified members of the Kelgian, Ian, Melfan, Nidian, Orligian, Dwerlan, Etlan, Earth-human, and his own Tralthan species, plus others that were completely new to him. Many of them were occupying tables and using eating utensils that had been designed for entirely different life-forms, seemingly for the purpose of conversing with other-species friends.

  There were beings terrifying in their obvious physical strength, others so horrifying and repugnant that they belonged in the realms of nightmare, and one, a large, insectile creature with three sets of beautiful iridescent wings, had a body so fragile that the sight of it among the others aroused immediate feelings of concern. There were very few vacant spaces at any of the tables.

  It was obvious that space was at a premium in Sector General and, whenever it was physiologically possible, the beings who worked together were expected to dine together — although not, Gurronsevas sincerely hoped, on the same food.

  He was wondering if it was possible to prepare a meal that every warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing species would find instantly palatable, and thinking that that would be the ultimate challenge for the Great Gurrons
evas, when he was struck two soft double-blows from behind.

  “Don’t block the entrance, stupid!” said a silver-furred Kelgian in the unmannerly manner of its race as it pushed past him. On his other flank its companion added, “Stand dreaming there much longer and you’ll starve to death.”

  As he moved further into the hall, Gurronsevas realized suddenly that he felt hungry, but even stronger was his feeling of curiosity regarding the beautiful, outsized insect life-form hovering and eating above a nearby table that was furnished for Melfan ELNTs. Beside and below it there was a vacant place.

  It was indeed an insect, he saw as he came up to its table, an enormous, incredibly fragile flying insect that was tiny in comparison with most of the other beings in the hall. From its tubular exo-skeletal body there projected six pencil-thin legs, four even more delicately formed manipulators, and three sets of wide, iridescent wings that were beating slowly as it hovered a short distance above the table as it wove a long, stringy substance (which Gurronsevas immediately recognized as Earth spaghetti) into a cable before conveying it delicately to its mouth.

  At close range, he thought, the delicate creature was even more beautiful. For a moment its hovering flight became less stable and a series of trills and clicks issued from an unidentified body orifice like a musical backing to the translated words.

  “Why thank you, friend,” it said. “I am Prilicla. You must be Gurronsevas.”

  “You must be telepathic,” said Gurronsevas in surprise.

  “No, friend Gurronsevas,” said Prilicla, “I am a Cinrusskin. Our race possesses a faculty which enables us to sense emotional radiation, but it is empathy rather than telepathy. You were radiating feelings characteristic of a mind that is undergoing a completely new experience, but with the unease which usually accompanies such feelings overlaid by intense curiosity. Other trace emotions are present which support the principal indications. These combined with the foreknowledge that a Tralthan was expected to arrive shortly to take charge of Dietetics enabled me to make no more than an accurate guess.”