Alien Emergencies - James White [137]
“I would like to eliminate that possibility,” Conway replied calmly. To Prilicla, he said, “If you don’t mind I would like to discuss your case with Major O’Mara outside.”
“Of course, friend Conway,” the empath said. The constant trembling seemed as if it would shake the fragile body apart. “But please have that Cinrusskin tape erased as quickly as possible. Your heightened levels of concern and sympathy are helping neither of us. And consider, friend Conway, your tape was donated by a great Cinrusskin medical authority of the past. In all modesty, I can say that, before coming to Sector General and in preparation for my work here, I had reached a similar degree of eminence in the field.
“There is nothing in the clinical history of our species which even approximates this condition,” it went on, “and absolutely no precedent for the symptomology. Regarding the possibility of a non-physical basis for the condition, I cannot, of course, be completely objective about this. But I have always been a happy and well-adjusted person with no mental aberrations in childhood, adolescence, or adulthood. Friend O’Mara has my psych file and will confirm this. My hope is that these peculiar symptoms were so sudden in onset that their recession will be equally rapid.”
“Perhaps Thornnastor could—” Conway began.
“The thought of that—that behemoth approaching me with investigative intent would cause me to terminate at once. And Thornnastor is busy—Friend Edanelt, be careful!”
Prilicla had switched its attention suddenly to the viewscreen. It went on, “Pressure, even temporary pressure in that area causes a marked decrease in the EGCL’s unconscious emoting. I suggest you approach that nerve bundle anteriorly through the opening in the…”
Conway missed the rest of it because O’Mara had gripped his arm and pulled him carefully out of the low-gravity compartment.
“That was very good advice,” the Chief Psychologist said when they were some distance from Prilicla’s ward. “Let’s erase that tape, Doctor, and discuss our little friend’s problem on the way to my office.”
Conway shook his head firmly. “Not yet. Prilicla said all that could be said about its case back there. The hard facts are that the Cinrusskin species is not one of the Federation’s most robust. They have no stamina, no reserves to resist over a long period the effects of any injury or disease, whatever the cause. We all know—myself, my alter ego and, I suspect, you yourself—that unless its condition is treated and relieved very quickly Prilicla will die within a few hours, perhaps ten hours at most.”
The Major nodded.
“Unless you can come up with a bright idea,” he went on grimly, “and I would certainly welcome it if you did, I intend to go on thinking with the Cinrusskin tape. It hasn’t helped much up to now, but I want to think without constraint, without having to play mental games with myself to avoid emoting too strongly in the presence of my patient. There is something very odd about this case, something I’m missing.
“So I’m going for a walk,” he ended suddenly. “I won’t be far away. Just far enough, I hope, to be outside the range of Prilicla’s empathy.”
O’Mara nodded again and left without speaking.
Conway put on a lightweight suit and traveled upward for three levels into the section reserved for the spiney, membranous, chlorine-breathing Illensan PVSJs. The inhabitants of Illensa were not a sociable species by Earth-human standards, and Conway was hoping to walk their foggy yellow wards and corridors without interruption while he wrestled with his problem. But that was not to be.
Senior Physician Gilvesh, who had worked with Conway some months earlier on a Dwerlan DBPK operation, was feeling uncharacteristically sociable and wanted to talk shop with its fellow Senior. They met in a narrow corridor leading from the level’s pharmacy and there was no way that Conway could avoid talking to it.
Gilvesh was having problems. It was one of those days, the Illensan medic said, when all the patients were demanding inordinate amounts of attention