Alien Emergencies - James White [231]
The rear storage compartment was already open and the loading ramps extending groundward.
They reached the scene of the accident after ten minutes of the most hair-raising driving that Conway had ever experienced—the Gogleskan, probably because of its naturally slow method of ambulation, did not give directions for turning corners until they were abreast of the intersection concerned. By the time Wainright had grounded the vehicle beside the partly demolished three-story building indicated by Khone, Conway was wondering if for the first time in his adult life he would succumb to motion sickness.
But all subjective considerations were driven from his mind when he saw the casualties hobbling or tumbling down the cracked or slowly collapsing external ramps, or struggling out of the large, ground-level doorway which was partly blocked by fallen rubble. Their many-colored body hair was hidden beneath a layer of dust and wood splinters, and on a few of the bodies he could see the wet, red gleam of fresh wounds. But all of them were ambulatory, he saw as he jumped down from the vehicle, and they were all moving as fast as they could away from the damaged building to join the wide and surprisingly distant circle of onlookers.
Suddenly he caught sight of a Gogleskan shape protruding from the debris around the doorway, and heard the untranslatable sounds it was making.
“Why are they standing there?” he yelled at Khone, waving toward the onlookers. “Why don’t they help it?”
“Only a healer may closely approach another Gogleskan when it is in distress,” Khone said as its tiny manipulators drew thin wooden rods from a pouch strapped to its middle and began slotting them together. It added, “Or a person with sufficient mental self-control not to be affected by that distress.”
Conway was following the healer as it moved toward the casualty. He said, “Perhaps a being of a completely different species could bring to bear on the case the required degree of clinical detachment.”
“No,” Khone said firmly. “Physical contact or even a close approach must be avoided.”
The Gogleskan’s rods had fitted together into a set of long-handled tongs to which, as the examination of the casualty proceeded, Khone added a series of interchangeable probes, spatulas, and lenses which were later substituted for fine brushes and swabs soaked in what must have been antiseptics for cleaning the wounds. This was followed by suturing of the larger incisions, using an ingenious device clipped to the end of the tongs. But the treatment was superficial and very, very slow.
Conway quickly extended the telescopic handle of his scanner until it was the same length as Khone’s tongs, then went down onto his hands and knees and pushed the instrument toward the healer.
“Internal injuries may be present,” he said. “This instrument will reveal them.”
Thanks were not expressed—probably Khone was too busy to be polite—but the Gogleskan laid down its tongs at once and began using Conway’s scanner. Its manipulators were awkward at first, but very soon they had adapted to the grips which had been designed for Earth-human fingers so that Khone began varying the focus and magnification in a manner that was almost expert.
“There is minor bleeding from the buried section of the body,” the Gogleskan said a few minutes later. “But it will be observed that the greatest danger to the casualty is the interruption of the blood supply to the cranial area, just here, which is caused by pressure from a wooden beam lying across and compressing the main cranial artery. This has also caused unconsciousness, which explains the lack of recent sounds and body movements which will also have been observed.”
“Rescue procedure?” Conway asked.
“Rescue is not possible in the time available,” Khone replied. “There is no knowledge regarding the time units used by the off-world healer, but the conditions will be terminal in approximately one-fiftieth of the