Alien Emergencies - James White [293]
“Your particular mental quirk is far from rare, Conway,” the Tralthan went on, slipping into its lecturing voice. “There must be a very good reason why your mind doesn’t want to leave the subject. Perhaps it is close to drawing significant conclusions, and if the question is shelved now the pertinent data might fade and be lost. I realize that I am beginning to sound like a psychologist, but one cannot practice medicine without acquiring some knowledge in that field. I can, of course, help you with the physiological questions on the Hudlar life-form, but I suspect that it is the psychological aspect which is crucial. In which case you should consult the Chief Psychologist without delay.”
“You mean,” Conway said faintly, “call O’Mara right now?”
“Theoretically,” the Tralthan replied, “a Diagnostician may request the assistance of any member of the hospital staff at any time, and vice versa.”
Conway looked at Murchison, who smiled sympathetically and said, “Call him. On the intercom he can only indulge in verbal violence.”
“That,” Conway said as he reached for the communicator, “doesn’t reassure me at all.”
A few seconds later the scowling features of the Chief Psychologist filled the tiny screen, making it impossible to tell how or if he was fully dressed. O’Mara said coldly, “I can tell from the background noise and the fact that you are still masticating that you are calling from the main dining hall. I would point out that I am in the middle of my rest period. I do rest occasionally, you know, just to fool you people into thinking that I’m only human. Presumably there is a good reason for your making this call, or are you complaining about the food?”
Conway opened his mouth, but the combination of facing an angry O’Mara and a mind which was still too busily engaged in formulating his questions kept any words from coming out.
“Conway,” O’Mara said with exaggerated patience, “what the blazes do you want?”
“Information,” he replied angrily. Then he softened his tone and went on. “I need information which might help in the Hudlar geriatric work. Diagnostician Thornnastor, Pathologist Murchison, and I are presently in consultation regarding…”
“Which means,” O’Mara said sourly, “that you’ve dreamed up some harebrained scheme over lunch.”
“…A proposed method of treating their condition,” Conway went on. “Regrettably, little can be done for the present occupants of the ward, since the degenerative condition is too far advanced in them. But early preventive treatment might be possible provided my idea has physiological and psychological support. Thornnastor and Murchison can give me detailed information on the former, but the key to their treatment, and any hope of its ultimate success, depends on the behavior under stress, adaptive ability, and potential for reeducation in aged but pregeriatric FROBs. I have not yet discussed the clinical problems which would be encountered, because to do so would be a waste of time if the answers you give me preclude further investigation.”
“Go on,” O’Mara said, no longer sounding half-asleep.
Conway hesitated, thinking that his period of intensive Hudlar surgery, the visits to the FROB geriatric and infant wards, some old memories from his early childhood, and possibly material from his other-species mind partners had all contributed to an idea which was very likely unworkable, ethically questionable, and so ridiculous that O’Mara might well have second thoughts regarding his suitability as a future Diagnostician. But it was too late now to