Code Blue Emergency sg-7 Read online

  CHAPTER 15

  By the time they had been transfered from the lander to the special FOKT accommodation of Rhab-war’s casualty deck, both patients were fully conscious and making loud hissing noises. The sounds that the younger one was making did not translate, but Khone’s were divided into repeated expressions of gratitude for its survival and weak but very insistent reassurances about its clinical condition. The healer’s self-diagnosis was supported by the biosensors and confirmed by the less tangible but even more accurate findings of the emotion-sensitive Prilicla. And now that it was separated from its friendly off-world monsters, and its subconscious fears thereby allayed, by a thick transparent partition, Khone was quite happy to speak to anyone at anytime.

  That included the nonmedical crew members who, with Captain Fletcher’s permission, left their positions in Control and the Power Room briefly to congratulate the patient and tell complimentary lies about the obvious intelligence, parental resemblance, and great beauty of the new arrival, a male child of greater than average weight. In spite of Prilicla’s urgings that it should rest and refrain from overexcitement, the atmosphere around Khone’s accommodation more closely resembled a birthday party than the casualty deck of an ambulance ship.

  When Captain Fletcher arrived, they did not need an emphatic faculty to feel the atmosphere change. To Khone the Earth-human made a perfunctory inquiry about its health, then turned quickly to Prilicla.

  “I need a decision, Senior Physician,” it went on, “one that only you people can make. The hospital signaled us a few minutes ago, saying that an emergency beacon had been detected in this sector. The distressed ship is about five hours subspace flight away; the distress beacon was not one of the types used by the Federation, so the casualties might be a species new to us. That makes it difficult to estimate the time needed for the rescue. It could take a couple of days rather than hours.

  “The question is,” it ended, “do your patients require hospitalization before or after we respond to this distress call?”

  It was not an easy decision to make because their patients, although stable and not in need of urgent treatment, belonged to a life-form about which little was known clinically, so that unexpected complications might arise at any time. Surprisingly the discussion, which was animated but necessarily brief, was ended by Khone itself.

  “Please, friends,” it said during one of the rare lulls, “Gogleskan females recover quickly once the birth trauma is over. I can assure you, both as a healer and a parent, that such a delay will not endanger either of us. Besides, here we are receiving much better attention than would be possible anywhere on Goglesk.”

  “You’re forgetting something,” Murchison said quietly. “We may be going into a disaster situation possibly involving a life-form completely new to us. It is conceivable that they might horrify or scare even us,much less a Gogleskan leaving its planet for the nrsttime.”

  “They might,” Khone replied, “but they would almostcertainly be in a worse condition than I am.”

  “Very well,” Prilicla said, turning back to the Captain. “It seems that friend Khone has reminded us of the priorities and of our duty as healers. Tell the hospital that Rhabwar will respond.”

  Fletcher disappeared in the direction of Control, and the Cinrusskin went on. “We should now eat and sleep, since there might not be an opportunity to do either for some time. The patients’ biosensors will be monitored automatically and any change in condition signaled to me at once. They need rest, too, and they wouldn’t get it if I left a team member on duty. Come along, everyone. Sleep well, friend Khone.”

  It flew gracefully into the gravity-free central well and up toward the dining and recreation deck, followed in more orthodox fashion by Naydrad, Danalta, Murchison, and Cha Thrat. But just before they began their weightless climb, Murchison gripped the ladder with one hand and placed the other on one of her mediallimbs.

  “Wait, please,” it said. “I would like to speak to you.” Cha Thrat stopped but did not speak. The sensation of alien digits gently enclosing her arm and the sight of the flabby, pink Earth-human face looking up at her were giving rise to feelings that no Sommaradvan, much less a female one, had any business harboring. Slowly, so as not to give offense, she disengaged the limb from the other’s grip and sought for emotionalcontrol.

  “I’m worried about this ship rescue, Cha Thrat,” it said, “and the effect on you of the casualties we may have to treat. Disaster injuries can be pretty bad, colli-sion fractures and explosive decompressions for the most part, and as a rule there are very few survivors. You don’t seem to be able to keep your Sommaradvan nose out of the medical area, but this time you must try, try really hard, not to get involved with our casualties.”

  Before Cha Thrat could reply, it went on. “You did some very nice work with Khone, even though I’m still not sure what exactly was going on, but you were very lucky. If Khone or the infant or both of them had died, how would you have felt? More important, what would you have done to yourself?”

  “Nothing,” Cha Thrat said, trying hard to tell herself that the expression on the pink face below her was one of friendly concern for an other-species subordinate and not something more personal. Quickly she went on. “I would have felt very bad, but I would not have injured myself again. The code of ethics of a warrior-surgeon is strict, and even on Sommaradva there were colleagues who did not observe it as I have done, and who envied and disliked me for my own strict observance. To me the code remains valid, but in Sector General and on Gog-lesk there are other and equally valid codes. My viewpoints have changed …”

  She stopped herself, afraid that she had said too much, but the other had not noticed that she had used the plural.

  “We call that broadening the mind,” Murchison said, “and I’m relieved and pleased for you, Cha Thrat. It’s a pity that … Well, I meant what I said about you being the Maintenance Department’s gain and our loss. Your superiors find you a bit hard to take at times, and after the Chalder and Hudlar incidents I can’t imagine you being accepted for ward training by anyone. But maybe if you waited until the fuss died down, and didn’t doanything else to get yourself noticed, I could speak to a few people about having you transfered back to the medical staff. How do you feel about that?”

  “I feel grateful,” she replied, trying desperately to find a way of ending this conversation with a being who was not only sympathetic and understanding as a person, but whose physical aspect was arousing in her other feelings of the kindusually associated with the urge to procreate. Most definitely, she thought, this was a problem that could only be resolved by one of O’Mara’s spells. Quickly she added, “I also feel very hungry.”

  “Hungry!” Murchison said. As the Earth-human turned to resume climbing to the dining area, it laughed suddenly and said, “You know, Cha Thrat, sometimes you remind me of my life-mate.”

  She was able to rest after the meal but not sleep and, after three hours of trying, she made the excuse to herself that Rhone’s life-support and synthetic food delivery systems needed checking. She found the Gogleskan awake, as well, and they talked quietly while it fed the infant. Soon afterward they were both asleep and she was left to stare silently at the complex shapes of the casualty deck equipment, which looked like weird, mechanical phantasms in the night-level lighting, until the arrival of Prilicla.

  “Have you been able to speak with friend Khone?” the Cinrusskin asked, hovering over the two Gogles-kans.

  “Yes,” Cha Thrat replied. “It will do as you suggested, to avoid embarrassing us.”

  “Thank you, friend Cha,” Prilicla said. “I feel the others awake and about to join us. We should be arrivingat any—”

  It was interrupted by a double chime that announced their emergence into normal space, followed a few min-utes later by the voice of Lieutenant Haslam speaking! from Control.

  “We have long-range sensor contact with a large] ship,” the communications officer said. “There are noj indication
s of abnormal radiation levels, no expanding cloud of debris, no sign of any catastrophic malfunction.! The vessel is rotating around its longtitudinal axis as well I as spinning slowly end over end. We are locking the tele-1 scope into the sensor bearing and putting the image onf your repeater screen.”

  A narrow, fuzzy triangle appeared in the center of the screen, becoming more distinct as Haslam brought it into focus.

  It went on. “Prepare for maximum thrust in ten minutes. Gravity compensators set for three Gs. We should close with it in less than two hours.”

  Cha Thrat and Khone watched the screen with the rest of the medical team, who were making Prilicla tremble with the intensity of their impatience. They were as ready as it was possible to be, and the more detailed preparations would have to wait until they had some idea of the physiological classification of the people they were about to rescue. But it was possible for the ship ruler to draw conclusions, even at long range.

  “According to our astrogation computer,” Fletcher said, “the nearest star is eleven light-years distant and without planets, so the ship did not come from there. Although large* it is still much too small to be a generation ship, so it is highly probable that it uses a form of hyperdrive similar to our own. It does not resemble any vessel, past, current, or under development, on the Federation’s fleet list.

  “In spite of its large size,” the Captain went on, “it has the aerodynamically clean triangular configuration typical of a vessel required to maneuver in a planetaryatmosphere. Most of the star-traveling species that we know prefer, for technical and economic reasons, to keep their combined atmosphere-and-space vessels small and build the larger nonlanders in orbit where streamlining is unnecessary. The two exceptions that I know of build their space-atmosphere ships large because the crews needed to operate them are themselves physicallymassive.”

  “Oh, great,” Naydrad said. “We’ll be rescuing abunch of giants.”

  “This is only speculative at the moment,” the Captain said. “Your screen won’t show it, but we’re beginning to resolve some of the structural details. That ship was not put together by watchmakers. The overall design philosophy seems to have been one of simplicity and strength rather than sophistication. We are beginning to see small access and inspection panels, and two very large features that must be entry locks. While it is possible that these are cargo locks that double as entry ports for personnel who are physically small, the probability is that these people are a very large and massive life-form—”

  “Don’t be afraid, friend Khone,” Prilicla broke in quickly. “Even a demented Hudlar couldn’t break through the partition Cha Thrat put around you, and our casualties will be unconscious anyway. Both of you will be quite safe.”

  “Reassurance and gratitude are felt,” the Gogleskan said. With a visible effort it added, more personally,"Thank you.”

  “Friend Fletcher,” the empath said, returning its attention to the Captain, “can you speculate further about this life-form, other than that it is large and probably lacks digital dexterity?”

  “I was about to,” the Captain said. “Analysis of internal atmosphere leakage shows that—”

  “Then the hull has been punctured!” Cha Thrat said excitedly. “From within or without?”

  “Technician,” said the ship ruler, reminding her of her position and her insubordination with the single word. “For your information, it is extremely difficult, expensive, and unnecessary to make a large, space-going structure completely airtight. It is more practical to maintain the vessel at nominal internal pressure and replace the negligible quantity of air that escapes. Inthis case, had escaping air not been observed, it would almost certainly have meant that the ship was open to space and airless.

  “But there are no signs of collision or puncture damage,” Fletcher went on, “and our sensor data and analysis of the atmosphere leakage suggests that the crew are warm-blooded oxygen-breathers with environmental temperature and pressure requirements similar to our own.”

  “Thank you, friend Fletcher,” Prilicla said, then joined the others who were silently watching the repeater screen.

  The image of the slowly rolling and spinning ship had grown until it was brushing against the edges of the screen, when Murchison said, “The ship is undamaged, uncontrolled, and, the sensors tell us, there is no abnormal escape of radiation from its main reactor. That means their problem is likely to be disease rather than traumatic injuries, a disabling or perhaps lethal illness affecting the entire crew. Under illness I would include the inhalation of toxic gas accidentally released from—”

  “No, ma’am,” said Fletcher, who had maintained the communicator link with Control. “Toxic contaminationof the air supply system on that scale would have showed up in our leak analyses. There’s nothing wrong with theirair.”

  “Or,” Murchison went on firmly, “the toxic materialmay have contaminated their liquid or food supply, and been ingested. Either way, there may be no survivors and nothing for us to do here except posthumously investigate, record the physiology of a new life-form, and leave the rest to the Monitor Corps.”

  The rest, Cha Thrat knew, would mean carrying out a detailed examination of the vessel’s power, life-support, and navigation systems with the intention of assessing the species’ level of technology. That might provide the information that would enable them to reconstruct the elements of the ship’s course before the disaster occurred and trace it back to its planet of origin. Simultaneously, an even more careful evaluation of the nontechnical environment — crew accommodation and furnishings, art or decorative objects, personal effects, books, tapes, and self-entertainment systems — would be carried out so that they would know what kind of people lived on the home planet when they succeeded in finding it, as they ultimately would.

  And eventually that world would be visited by the Cultural Contact specialists of the Monitor Corps and, like her own Sommaradva, it would never be the same again.

  “If there are no survivors, ma’am,” Fletcher said regretfully, “then it isn’t a job for Rhabwar. But we’ll only know when we go inside and check. Senior Physician, do you wish to send any of your people with me? At this stage, though, getting inside will be a mechanical rather than a medical problem. Lieutenant Chen and Technician Cha Thrat, you will assist me with the entry— Wait, something’s happening to the ship!”

  Cha Thrat was very surprised that Fletcher wanted her to help with such important work, badly worried in case she might not be able to perform to his expectations, and more than a little frightened at the thought of what might happen to them when they got inside the distressed ship. But the feelings were temporarily submerged at the sight of what was happening on the screen.

  The ship’s rate of spin and roll were increasing as they watched, and irregular spurts of vapor were fogging the forward and aft hull and the tips of the broad, triangular wings. She suffered a moment’s sympathetic nausea for anyone who might be inside the vessel and conscious, then Fletcher’s voice returned.

  “Attitude jets!” it said excitedly. “Somebody must be trying to check the spin, but is making it worse. Maybe the survivor isn’t feeling well, or is injured, or isn’t familiar with the controls. But now we know someone is alive in there. Dodds, as soon as we’re in range, kill that spin and lock on with all tractors. Doctor Prilicla, you’re in business again.”

  “Sometimes it’s nice,” Murchison said, speaking to nobody in particular, “to be proved wrong.”

  While Cha Thrat was donning her suit, she listened to the discussion between the medical team members and Fletcher that, had it not been for the presence of the gentle little empath, would have quickly developed into a bitter argument.

  It was plain from the conversation that the Captain was Rhabwar’s sole ruler so far as all ship operations were concerned, but at the site of a disaster its authority had to be relinquished to the senior medical person on board, who wasempowered to use the resources of the ship and its officers as it saw fi
t. The main area of con-tention seemea to oe me responsibility ended and Prilicla’s began.

  The Captain argued that the medics were not, considering the fact that the distressed ship was structurally undamaged, on the disaster site until it got them into the ship, and until then they should continue to obey its orders or, at very least, act on its advice. Its advice was that they should remain on Rhabwar until it had effected an entry, because to do otherwise was to risk becoming casualties themselves if the injured or ill survivor — who had already made a mess of checking its ship’s spin with the attitude jets — decided to do something equally unsuccessful and much more devastating with the main thrusters.

  If the medical team was waiting outside the distressed ship’s entry lock when thrust was applied, they would either be smashed against the hull plating or incinerated by its tail flare, and the rescue would be aborted because of a sudden lack of rescuers.

  Fletcher’s reasons for wanting the medics to remain behind until the other ship had been opened were sound, Cha Thrat thought, even though they had given her a new danger to worry about. But the medical team had been trained for the fastest possible rescue and treatment of survivors, and they were particularly anxious not to waste time in this case when there might only be one. By the time she was leaving for the airlock, a compromise had been worked out.

  Prilicla would accompany Fletcher, Chen, and herself to the ship. While they were trying to get inside, the empath would move up and down the outer hull and try to pinpoint the locations of survivors by their emotional radiation. The rest of the medical team would hold themselves ready for a fast recovery of casualties as soon as the way was open.

  She had been waiting only a few minutes in the lock antechamber when Lieutenant Chen arrived.

  “Good, you’re here already,” the Earth-human said, smiling. “Help me move our equipment into the lock, please. The Captain doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”