Alien Emergencies - James White [129]
Conway stared for a moment at the two-meters-long, caterpillar like life-form whose coat of silvery fur was in constant, rippling motion. This motion was completely involuntary among Kelgians, triggered by their reactions to external and internal stimuli, and the emotionally expressive fur complemented the vocal apparatus which lacked flexibility of tone. But the patterns of movement in the fur made it plain to any Kelgian what another felt about the subject under discussion, so that they always said exactly what they meant. The concepts of diplomacy, tact, and lying were therefore completely alien to them. Conway sighed.
He tried to conceal his own doubts about the case by saying firmly, “Thornnastor much prefers putting together a live specimen than taking apart a dead one. As well, on a number of occasions Prilicla’s empathy has proved more trustworthy than medical instrumentation, so we cannot be absolutely sure that this case is hopeless. In any event, until we reach the hospital its treatment is my responsibility.
“Let’s not become too emotionally involved with this patient,” he added. “It is unprofessional and not like either of you.”
Naydrad, its fur twitching angrily, made a sound which did not register on Conway’s translator, and Murchison said, “You’re right, of course. We’ve seen much worse cases and I don’t know why I feel so badly about this one. Maybe I’m just growing old.”
“The onset of senility could be one explanation for such uncharacteristic behavior,” the Kelgian said, “although this is not so in my case.”
Murchison’s face reddened. “The Charge Nurse is allowed to say things like that but you, Doctor, had better not agree with it,” she said crossly.
Conway laughed suddenly. “Relax. I wouldn’t dream of agreeing with such a blatantly obvious misstatement,” he said. “And now, if you have everything you think Thorny will need on our friend here, both of you get some rest. Emergence is in six hours. If you can’t sleep, please try not to worry too much about the casualty or it will bother Prilicla.”
Murchison nodded and followed Naydrad from the Casualty Deck. Conway, still feeling more like a not very well patient than a medic in charge, set the audible warning which would signal any change in the EGCL’s condition, lay down on a nearby litter, and closed his eyes.
Neither the Earth-human DBDG or the Kelgian DBLF classifications were noted for their ability to exercise full control over their mentation, and it was soon obvious that Murchison and Naydrad had been worrying and, in the process, producing some unpleasant emotional radiation. With his eyes still closed he listened to the faint tapping and plopping sounds which moved along the ceiling toward him and came to a halt overhead. There was a burst of low, musical clicks and trills which came through his translator as “Excuse me, friend Conway, were you sleeping?”
“You know I wasn’t,” Conway said, opening his eyes to see Prilicla clinging to the ceiling above him, trembling uncontrollably as it was washed by his own and the patient’s emotional radiation.
Doctor Prilicla was of physiological classification GLNO—an insectile, exoskeletal, six-legged life-form with two pairs of iridescent and not quite atrophied wings and possessing a highly developed empathic faculty. Only on Cinruss, with its dense atmosphere and one-eighth gravity, could a race of insects have grown to such dimensions and in time developed intelligence and an advanced civilization.
But in both the hospital and Rhabwar, Prilicla was in deadly danger for most of its working day. It had to wear gravity nullifiers everywhere outside its own special quarters because the gravity pull which the majority of its colleagues considered normal would instantly have crushed it flat. When Prilicla held a conversation with anyone it kept well out of reach of any thoughtless