The Galactic Gourmet sg-9 Page 5

  CHAPTER 6

  When Gurronsevas had asked for the use of a large, enclosed volume of water that was not so deep that there would be the risk of his air-breathing helpers drowning, but extensive enough so that the experiments could be carried out without the test objects colliding too often with the retaining walls, he had not expected anything quite as large as this, and for a moment surprise rendered him speechless.

  Bright but well-concealed lighting combined with some inspired landscaping had given the recreation level the illusion of tremendous spaciousness. The overall effect was of a small, tropical terrain beach enclosed on two sides by low cliffs containing several large and small cave mouths which were the concealed access tunnels to several diving boards, all of which were constantly in use, that projected at various heights from the soft, artificial rockface. The beach was open to the sea, which seemed to stretch to a distant horizon rendered indistinct by heat haze. Overhead the sky was blue and cloudless. The bay was deep blue, shading to turquoise where it met the shelving beach, and the wave-making machinery had been turned off for the duration of the experiment so that the water lapped gently onto soft, golden sand that was pleasantly warm underfoot.

  Only the artificial sun, whose light had an orange tinge that Gurronsevas found strange, and the varieties of alien greenery fringing the cliff-tops kept it from looking like a tropical bay anywhere on his home planet.

  “Newcomers are always impressed,” said Lieutenant Timmins proudly, “by their first sight of our recreation facility for warmblooded oxygen-breathers. At least one-third of the medical staff are off-duty at any given time and most of them like to spend a few hours here. Sometimes the place is so crowded you can hardly see the beach or ocean for bodies. But space is at a premium in Sector General, and the people who work together are expected to play together as well.

  “Psychologically,” Timmins went on, still speaking in the manner of a proud parent of what must have been Maintenance Department’s favorite brainchild, “the most effective part of the environment is the one you don’t even see. The whole area is maintained at just under one-half standard gravity, and a half-G pull means that the people who feel tired can relax more comfortably and the ones who are feeling lively can feel livelier still. Unfortunately it lacks privacy, but there are so many different life-forms enjoying their leisure in so many strange ways that your experiments are likely to pass unnoticed.

  “Do we start now or wait for Thornnastor?”

  “Now, please,” said Gurronsevas, and began helping Timmins and its two Melfan assistants to transfer their equipment into the large, brightly-colored raft that was waiting in the shallows.

  Only once did Gurronsevas pause when his communicator came briefly to life with the message that Diagnostician Thornnastor had been unavoidably delayed and would not be able to join them as planned, but it was sending Pathologist Murchison in its place. Judging by its sudden change of facial expression, the news pleased Timmins very much.

  But they were all too busy making adjustments to the propulsion system of one of their test objects — the only one which so far had not blown itself to soggy pieces or otherwise proved a failure — to notice the pathologist’s arrival until it had swum out to the raft, pulled itself on board and spoken to them.

  “Thornnastor had no time to brief me,” Murchison said. “What is that thing? And what am I doing here, apart from watching fully grown and presumably mentally adult beings playing in the water like children?”

  It was a tall Earth-human DBDG, Gurronsevas saw, with the flabby and top-heavy aspect common to many females of that species. Long yellow head-fur darkened by water clung to its neck and shoulders and, Earth being one of the few cultures containing beings who still observed a nudity taboo, it wore two ridiculously narrow strips of fabric around its chest and pelvis. Even though the words implied criticism its manner seemed pleasant. Before replying he reminded himself that Murchison was Thornnastor’s principal assistant and the life-mate of another Diagnostician, Conway, and that he should not be too quick to take offense in case none had been intended.

  “It might look that way, ma’am,” Timmins said before Gurronsevas could speak, “and I must admit that this isn’t the most unpleasant project I have ever been given. But there are serious, technical, and medical-support reasons for what we are doing here.”

  “For playing with a toy boat?” asked Murchison.

  “Technically, ma’am, it isn’t a boat,” said the Lieutenant, smiling. It lifted the test object out of the water so that the pathologist could see it more clearly. “It is a prototype submersible vehicle with a flattened ovoid configuration that is designed to remain in a state of stable equilibrium at whatever depth it is placed, after which it is supposed to alter its position and depth randomly and at speed.

  “The propulsion system,” Timmins went on, “is a thin-walled plastic cylinder of compressed gas which fits into this cylindrical opening in the stern, just here. Smaller depressions around the circumference and on the top and underside house smaller capsules of compressed gas which are used for changing attitude. The walls of these steering capsules are water soluble and of varying thickness so that they need differing periods, anything from five to seventy-five seconds, to melt and release the gas. This means that the changes in direction will be random and the vehicle consequently very difficult to catch, at least until the propellant gas runs out which, in this test specimen, will be in two minutes. We are about to do another test run, ma’am. You should find it interesting.”

  “I can’t wait,” said Murchison.

  Timmins and the two Melfan technicians lifted the test vehicle onto the raft and climbed on board. Their combined weight made the raft tip alarmingly. Murchison stepped backwards quickly to give them space to work, arms outstretched to maintain its balance, and Gurronsevas remained in the water. He was tall enough for his feet to touch the bottom while his cranial breathing passages remained in air. Two of his eyes he positioned under the surface to watch for any underwater swimmers who might be about to encroach on the test area, and with the other two he watched until the vehicle was refuelled and ready.

  “This time we’ll place it at a depth of one-half meter,” Gurronsevas said, “because I want to closely observe its behavior from the moment the main propulsion unit’s seal dissolves until the first steering capsule bursts. Hold it as level as possible, let go simultaneously and withdraw slowly so that you will not create turbulence which might cause an attitude change before thrust is applied. Is this understood by everyone?”

  “It was understood,” said one of the Melfans so quietly that it was plain that the remark was not intended to be overheard, “the first time you explained it.”

  Gurronsevas decided to be diplomatically deaf.

  Murchison had not spoken directly to Gurronsevas since its arrival; and since Timmins had been eagerly passing on all of the necessary information, there was no reason other than mere politeness for him to speak to the pathologist. He was beginning to have serious doubts about the feasibility of the whole project, and to say less now would reduce any subsequent embarrassment caused by an apology for wasting the other’s time. In any case, the pathologist was lying flat on the raft with its face and both eyes directed at the launch preparations.

  Gurronsevas noted with growing impatience that most of Timmins’ attention was being directed at Pathologist Murchison. He reminded himself that the Earth-human DBDG classification belonged to a species which (unlike the vast majority of other life-forms within the Federation, who were intensely active only for short periods in the year) was capable of sexual arousal and activity throughout its adult life. There were some who envied them this ability, but privately Gurronsevas considered it a disadvantage which all too often reduced the quality of their mentation. But again, this was a good time to maintain diplomatic silence.

  The next test began well, with the thin, bubbling jet of compressed gas driving the vehicle forward in a not quite straight line
at a slowly increasing velocity and constant depth. The Chalder’s prey was amphibious so that it was normal for it to release air while fleeing. When the first lateral thrust came with its smaller and briefer explosion of bubbles, the vehicle made a wide curve that was bringing it back towards the raft. Another gas capsule melted and burst on the same side and the circle tightened until suddenly the vehicle broke the surface and began spinning and skidding uncontrollably over the water as the propulsion unit reinforced the spin set up by the two lateral jets. The others burst at random without effect and a moment later the vehicle came to rest, still spinning slowly, with its topside breaking the surface.

  One of the Melfans retrieved it and a technical argument started regarding the inherent instability of the flattened ovoid configuration. Gurronsevas was too angry and disappointed to join in, but not so Murchison.

  “This is not my specialty,” said the pathologist, “but when I used to play with my big brother’s toy boats as a child, they were fitted with keels which gave them directional stability even when the wind changed. When we grew older and progressed to speedboats and submarines we had radio-controlled rudders and diving vanes to maintain or change direction or depth. Couldn’t something similar be used here?”

  Timmins and the Melfans stopped talking but did not reply. They were all looking at Gurronsevas. Plainly he could remain silent no longer.

  “No,” he said. “Not unless the radio receiver and actuating devices could be fabricated from materials that were non-metallic, non-toxic and edible.”

  “Edible?” said Murchison. In a quieter voice it went on, “So that’s why I was sent here. Until now I didn’t know that Thorny had a sense of humor. Please go on.”

  “In its final form,” said Gurronsevas, doing so, “the entire vehicle would have to be edible, or at least non-toxic to the Chalder life-form, and that would include the water-soluble gas containers for propulsion and steering. The problem with the addition of a keel, which would also have to be edible and not sharp-edged enough to risk injury to the patient’s mouth, is that the structure would change the visual appearance of the vehicle so that it no longer resembled the Chalders’ natural and greatly preferred food source, which is a streamlined, hard-shelled, aquatic animal of the size and configuration of our test object. A weak and convalescent Chalder patient might not consider it worth the effort to chase unfamiliar food.

  “You will understand,” Gurronsevas continued, “that the confined space of the AUGL ward causes physical as well as physiological effects which unnecessarily lengthen the period of convalescence. The patients become lazy, listless, almost debilitated by their inability to exercise properly. I should explain that the physiology of the AUGLs is such that—”

  “I am familiar with the physiology of the Chalders, among others,” said Murchison.

  For a moment Gurronsevas radiated embarrassment so strongly that he was surprised the water around him did not steam. He said, “My apologies, Pathologist Murchison. This Chalder knowledge is very new to me, and very exciting, and in my excitement I stupidly assumed a similar level of ignorance in others. I had no wish to offend you.”

  “You didn’t,” said the pathologist. “I was just trying to stop your wasting time on an unnecessary explanation. But I have no knowledge or professional interest in the non-intelligent life-forms on Chalderescol, including the food animal you are trying to copy. How does the real one propel itself and take evasive action and manage to retain directional stability?”

  Feeling greatly relieved, Gurronsevas said quickly, “On each side the animal has a set of eight laterally-mounted paddles. Their frequency of beat and angle of attack against the water can be varied so as to make the animal rise, dive, or — by going into reverse beat on one side — make a sudden change in direction. The paddle structure is a translucent framework supporting a transparent membrane which, when the creature is fleeing, is beating so fast as to be virtually invisible. When there is a change in direction, minor turbulence is created which is visually similar to the bubbles produced by the test object’s attitude jets.

  “Regrettably,” he added, “the model looks but does not behave like the real thing. It is hopelessly unstable.”

  “That it is,” said Murchison. For several minutes it remained silent, staring thoughtfully at the test object in the water while Timmins stared just as intently at the pathologist and the two Melfan technicians talked quietly to each other. Suddenly it spoke.

  “We need a keel of some kind,” it said in a quiet but excited voice, “but one which will not alter the object’s appearance. The original life-form uses paddles which are translucent and move too quickly to be seen. Why don’t we use an invisible keel?”

  Without giving anyone a chance to reply it went on, “We should be able to make it from a shaped and hardened transparent gel possessing the same refractive index as water. It would have to be edible, naturally, and be weak enough structurally not to damage the patient’s teeth or digestive tract. Some of the constituents I have in mind — well, the taste would range from neutral to downright awful, but we can work on that until—”

  “You can produce this edible stabilizer?” Gurronsevas broke in, incredulity making him forget good manners. “Your department has done so before?”

  “No,” said Murchison. “We have never been asked to do so before. It will be a difficult but not impossible biochemical problem to devise an edible and Chalder-non-toxic material of the required consistency. The shaping of the material into a keel and its attachment to the vehicle will be covered by your food synthesizer programming.”

  “Meanwhile,” Timmins joined in, “we can start fitting non-edible and visible keels to the test vehicle to see which size and shape works best. Kledath, Dremon, lift it onto the raft. We’ve got work to do.”

  Murchison rolled off the raft so as to give the others more space to work. It lay floating on its back beside Gurronsevas, completely relaxed, with eyes closed and only its face above the surface.

  “I think you have solved this problem, Pathologist Murchison,” he said, “and I am most grateful.”

  “We aim to please,” the pathologist said. Its mouth opened slightly in a smile and the eyes remained closed. “Have you other problems?”

  “Not exactly,” said Gurronsevas. “I have thoughts and questions and ideas, not yet fully formulated, which are likely to develop into problems. Right now my ignorance about some aspects of my future work here is close to total and, well, I would welcome suggestions.”

  The pathologist opened one eye briefly to look at him, then said, “Right now I can think of nothing better to do than listen and make suggestions.”

  On the raft the three technicians were concentrating all of their attention on the test vehicle, so much so that Timmins had stopped casting sidelong glances at Murchison. They had attached a long, narrow keel and the Lieutenant was suggesting that they add a similar dorsal fin so as to equalize water resistance on the top and undersides. With the expected increase in longitudinal stability, which would reduce the earlier tendency to sideslip and go into a spin every time it changed direction, the lateral thrusters would need to be strengthened so as to sharpen the turning angles.

  The conversation could not have been more technical, Gurronsevas thought as he directed all of his eyes towards Murchison, if they had been designing a spaceship.

  “Thanks to your suggestion,” he said, “our test object should act as well as look like the food animal it is meant to be. That is important because there is much more to food than its outward appearance. There are also taste, smell, consistency, visual presentation, and contrasting or complementing sauces which, I hope to demonstrate in time, are vital accompaniments to the often bland edible material that the hospital synthesizers provide. In the case of our Chalder we have been able to reproduce the consistency with the hard shell that encloses the soft contents, and the presentation, which is the mobility of a dish that is apparently trying to escape being eaten. But that is
all.”

  “Go on,” said Murchison, opening both of its eyes.

  “In the present instance,” said Gurronsevas, “the difficulty of adding a conventional sauce to a dish that is moving rapidly underwater is well-nigh insurmountable. The thick-shelled, immobile eggs currently being fed to AUGL patients, in spite of the artificial taste additives they contain, are most unappetizing. To an Earth-human like yourself an analogy would be that they taste like cold mashed potato sandwiches …”

  “My department was consulted about those artificial taste additives,” Murchison broke in, “to make sure there would be no harmful side-effects. The taste concentration can easily be increased if that is what you want.”

  “It isn’t,” said Gurronsevas firmly. “The diner, I mean the patient, is aware of the artificial taste and finds it objectionable. I had it in mind to reduce the taste components in the material rather than increase them, it being more difficult for the sensorium to detect artificially in trace quantities than in heavy concentrations. My plan, or rather my hope, is to mask the diluted artificial taste with a sauce that requires no physical ingredients. Instead I will rely on the best condiment of all, hunger, reinforced by the excitement of the chase and the uncertainty of capturing the meal. Intellectually the Chalder will know that it is being fooled, but subconsciously it might not care.”

  “Nice, very nice,” said Murchison approvingly. “I’m pretty sure that will work. But you are missing a bet.”

  “A, a bet?”

  “Sorry, an Earth-human expression,” it said, and went on, “When a land animal is being hunted it usually emits a special body odor, a glandular secretion indicative of its fear and increased level of physical activity, and the same may hold true here. Synthesized fear pheromones — in this case, in the form of a fast-dispersing water-borne scent — could be released into the propulsion system, again in trace quantities so as to hide the fact that they are artificial.”