Star Surgeon

  CHAPTER 2

  HOSPITAL SEATTLE

  It was a long way from the students' barracks to the pathology sectorwhere Black Doctor Arnquist lived. Dal Timgar decided not to try to goto the barracks first. It was after midnight, and even though themessage had said "regardless of hour," Dal shrank from the thought ofawakening a physician of the Black Service at two o'clock in themorning. He was already later arriving at Hospital Seattle than he hadexpected to be, and quite possibly Black Doctor Arnquist would beretiring. It seemed better to go there without delay.

  But one thing took priority. He found a quiet spot in the waiting roomnear the subway entrance and dug into his day pack for the pressedbiscuit and the canister of water he had there. He broke off a piece ofthe biscuit and held it up for Fuzzy to see.

  Fuzzy wriggled down onto his hand, and a tiny mouth appeared just belowthe shoe-button eyes. Bit by bit Dal fed his friend the biscuit, withsquirts of water in between bites. Finally, when the biscuit was gone,Dal squirted the rest of the water into Fuzzy's mouth and rubbed himbetween the eyes. "Feel better now?" he asked.

  The creature seemed to understand; he wriggled in Dal's hand and blinkedhis eyes sleepily. "All right, then," Dal said. "Off to sleep."

  Dal started to tuck him back into his jacket pocket, but Fuzzy abruptlysprouted a pair of forelegs and began struggling fiercely to get outagain. Dal grinned and replaced the little creature in the crook of hisarm. "Don't like that idea so well, eh? Okay, friend. If you want towatch, that suits me."

  He found a map of the city at the subway entrance, and studied itcarefully. Like other hospital cities on Earth, Seattle was primarily acenter for patient care and treatment rather than a supply oradministrative center. Here in Seattle special facilities existed forthe care of the intelligent marine races that required specializedhospital care. The depths of Puget Sound served as a vast aquatic wardsystem where creatures which normally lived in salt-water oceans ontheir native planets could be cared for, and the specialty physicianswho worked with marine races had facilities here for research andteaching in their specialty. The dry-land sectors of the hospital wereorganized to support the aquatic wards; the surgeries, the laboratories,the pharmacies and living quarters all were arranged on the periphery ofthe salt-water basin, and rapid-transit tubes carried medical workers,orderlies, nurses and physicians to the widespread areas of the hospitalcity.

  The pathology sector lay to the north of the city, and Black DoctorArnquist was the chief pathologist of Hospital Seattle. Dal found anorthbound express tube, climbed into an empty capsule, and pressed thebuttons for the pathology sector. Presently the capsule was shiftedautomatically into the pressure tube that would carry him thirty milesnorth to his destination.

  It was the first time Dal had ever visited a Black Doctor in hisquarters, and the idea made him a little nervous. Of all the medicalservices on Hospital Earth, none had the power of the Black Service ofPathology. Traditionally in Earth medicine, the pathologists had alwaysoccupied a position of power and discipline. The autopsy rooms hadalways been the "Temples of Truth" where the final, inarguable answersin medicine were ultimately found, and for centuries pathologists hadbeen the judges and inspectors of the profession of medicine.

  And when Earth had become Hospital Earth, with status as a probationarymember of the Galactic Confederation of Worlds, it was natural that theBlack Service of Pathology had become the governors and policy-makers,regimenting every aspect of the medical services provided by Earthphysicians.

  Dal knew that the medical training council, which would be reviewing hisapplication in just a few hours, was made up of physicians from all theservices--the Green Service of Medicine, the Blue Service of Diagnosis,the Red Service of Surgery, as well as the Auxiliary Services--but theBlack Doctors who sat on the council would have the final say, the finalveto power.

  He wondered now why Black Doctor Arnquist wanted to see him. At first hehad thought there might be special news for him, word perhaps that hisassignment had come through after all, that the interview tomorrow wouldnot be held. But on reflection, he realized that didn't make sense. Ifthat were the case, Doctor Arnquist would have said so, and directed himto report to a ship. More likely, he thought, the Black Doctor wantedto see him only to soften the blow, to help him face the decision thatseemed inevitable.

  He left the pneumatic tube and climbed on the jitney that wound its waythrough the corridors of the pathology sector and into the quiet,austere quarters of the resident pathologists. He found the properconcourse, and moments later he was pressing his thumb against theidentification plate outside the Black Doctor's personal quarters.

  * * * * *

  Black Doctor Thorvold Arnquist looked older now than when Dal had lastseen him. His silvery gray hair was thinning, and there were tired linesaround his eyes and mouth that Dal did not remember from before. The oldman's body seemed more wispy and frail than ever, and the black cloakacross his shoulders rustled as he led Dal back into a book-lined study.

  The Black Doctor had not yet gone to bed. On a desk in the corner of thestudy several books lay open, and a roll of paper was inserted in thedicto-typer. "I knew you would get the message when you arrived," hesaid as he took Dal's pack, "and I thought you might be later than youplanned. A good trip, I trust. And your friend here? He enjoys shuttletravel?" He smiled and stroked Fuzzy with a gnarled finger. "I supposeyou wonder why I wanted to see you."

  Dal Timgar nodded slowly. "About the interview tomorrow?"

  "Ah, yes. The interview." The Black Doctor made a sour face and shookhis head. "A bad business for you, that interview. How do you feel aboutit?"

  Dal spread his hands helplessly. As always, the Black Doctor's questionscut through the trimming to the heart of things. They were alwaysdifficult questions to answer.

  "I ... I suppose it's something that's necessary," he said finally.

  "Oh?" the Black Doctor frowned. "But why necessary for you if not forthe others? How many were there in your class, including all theservices? Three hundred? And out of the three hundred only one wasrefused assignment." He looked up sharply at Dal, his pale blue eyesvery alert in his aged face. "Right?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And you really feel it's just normal procedure that your application isbeing challenged?"

  "No, sir."

  "How _do_ you feel about it, Dal? Angry, maybe?"

  Dal squirmed. "Yes, sir. You might say that."

  "Perhaps even bitter," the Black Doctor said.

  "I did as good work as anyone else in my class," Dal said hotly. "I didmy part as well as anyone could, I didn't let up once all the waythrough. Bitter! Wouldn't you feel bitter?"

  The Black Doctor nodded slowly. "Yes, I imagine I would," he said,sinking down into the chair behind the desk with a sigh. "As a matter offact, I do feel a little bitter about it, even though I was afraid thatit might come to this in the end. I can't blame you for your feelings."He took a deep breath. "I wish I could promise you that everything wouldbe all right tomorrow, but I'm afraid I can't. The council has a rightto review your qualifications, and it holds the power to assign you to apatrol ship on the spot, if it sees fit. Conceivably, a Black Doctormight force the council's approval, if he were the only representativeof the Black service there. But I will not be the only Black Doctorsitting on the council tomorrow."

  "I know that," Dal said.

  Doctor Arnquist looked up at Dal for a long moment. "Why do you want tobe a doctor in the first place, Dal? This isn't the calling of yourpeople. You must be the one Garvian out of millions with the patienceand peculiar mental make-up to permit you to master the scientificdisciplines involved in studying medicine. Either you are different fromthe rest of your people--which I doubt--or else you are driven to forceyourself into a pattern foreign to your nature for very compellingreasons. What are they? Why do you want medicine?"

  It was the hardest question of all, the question Dal had dreaded. Heknew the answer, just as he had k
nown for most of his life that hewanted to be a doctor above all else. But he had never found a way toput the reasons into words. "I can't say," he said slowly. "I _know_,but I can't express it, and whenever I try, it just sounds silly."

  "Maybe your reasons don't make reasonable sense," the old man saidgently.

  "But they do! At least to me, they do," Dal said. "I've always wanted tobe a doctor. There's nothing else I want to do. To work at home, amongmy people."

  "There was a plague on Garv II, wasn't there?" Doctor Arnquist said. "Acyclic thing that came back again and again. The cycle was broken just afew years ago, when the virus that caused it was finally isolated anddestroyed."

  "By the physicians of Hospital Earth," Dal said.

  "It's happened again and again," the Black Doctor said. "We've seen thesame pattern repeated a thousand times across the galaxy, and it hasalways puzzled us, just a little." He smiled. "You see, our knowledgeand understanding of the life sciences here on Earth have always grownhand in hand with the physical sciences. We had always assumed that thesame thing would happen on _any_ planet where a race has developedintelligence and scientific methods of study. We were wrong, of course,which is the reason for the existence of Hospital Earth and herphysicians today, but it still amazes us that with all the technologyand civilization in the galaxy, we Earthmen are the only people yetdiscovered who have developed a broad knowledge of the processes of lifeand illness and death."

  The old man looked up at his visitor, and Dal felt his pale blue eyessearching his face. "How badly do you want to be a doctor, Dal?"

  "More than anything else I know," Dal said.

  "Badly enough to do anything to achieve your goal?"

  Dal hesitated, and stroked Fuzzy's head gently. "Well ... almostanything."

  The Black Doctor nodded. "And that, of course, is the reason I had tosee you before this interview, my friend. I know you've played the gamestraight right from the beginning, up to this point. Now I beg of younot to do the thing that you are thinking of doing."

  For a moment Dal just stared at the little old man in black, and feltthe fur on his arms and back rise up. A wave of panic flooded his mind._He knows!_ he thought frantically. _He must be able to read minds!_ Buthe thrust the idea away. There was no way that the Black Doctor couldknow. No race of creatures in the galaxy had _that_ power. And yet therewas no doubt that Black Doctor Arnquist knew what Dal had been thinking,just as surely as if he had said it aloud.

  Dal shook his head helplessly. "I ... I don't know what you mean."

  "I think you do," Doctor Arnquist said. "Please, Dal. Trust me. This isnot the time to lie. The thing that you were planning to do at theinterview would be disastrous, even if it won you an assignment. Itwould be dishonest and unworthy."

  _Then he does know!_ Dal thought. _But how? I couldn't have told him, orgiven him any hint._ He felt Fuzzy give a frightened shiver on his arm,and then words were tumbling out of his mouth. "I don't know what you'retalking about, there wasn't anything I was thinking of. I mean, whatcould I do? If the council wants to assign me to a ship, they will, andif they don't, they won't. I don't know what you're thinking of."

  "Please." Black Doctor Arnquist held up his hand. "Naturally you defendyourself," he said. "I can't blame you for that, and I suppose this isan unforgivable breach of diplomacy even to mention it to you, but Ithink it must be done. Remember that we have been studying and observingyour people very carefully over the past two hundred years, Dal. It isno accident that you have such a warm attachment to your little pinkfriend here, and it is no accident that wherever a Garvian is found, hisFuzzy is with him, isn't that so? And it is no accident that your peopleare such excellent tradesmen, that you are so remarkably skillful indriving bargains favorable to yourselves ... that you are in fact themost powerful single race of creatures in the whole GalacticConfederation."

  The old man walked to the bookshelves behind him and brought down athick, bound manuscript. He handed it across the desk as Dal watchedhim. "You may read this if you like, at your leisure. Don't worry, it'snot for publication, just a private study which I have never mentionedbefore to anyone, but the pattern is unmistakable. This peculiar talentof your people is difficult to describe: not really telepathy, but anability to create the emotional responses in others that will be mostfavorable to you. Just what part your Fuzzies play in this ability ofyour people I am not sure, but I'm quite certain that without them youwould not have it."

  He smiled at Dal's stricken face. "A forbidden topic, eh? And yetperfectly true. You know right now that if you wanted to you couldvirtually paralyze me with fright, render me helpless to do anything butstand here and shiver, couldn't you? Or if I were hostile to yourwishes, you could suddenly force me to sympathize with you and like youenormously, until I was ready to agree to anything you wanted--"

  "No," Dal broke in. "Please, you don't understand! I've never done it,not once since I came to Hospital Earth."

  "I know that. I've been watching you."

  "And I wouldn't think of doing it."

  "Not even at the council interview?"

  "Never!"

  "Then let me have Fuzzy now. He is the key to this special talent ofyour people. Give him to me now, and go to the interview without him."

  Dal drew back, trembling, trying to fight down panic. He brought hishand around to the soft fur of the little pink fuzz-ball. "I ... can'tdo that," he said weakly.

  "Not even if it meant your assignment to a patrol ship?"

  Dal hesitated, then shook his head. "Not even then. But I won't do whatyou're saying, I promise you."

  For a long moment Black Doctor Arnquist stared at him. Then he smiled."Will you give me your word?

  "Yes, I promise."

  "Then I wish you good luck. I will do what I can at the interview. Butnow there is a bed for you here. You will need sleep if you are topresent your best appearance."