Double Contact

CHAPTER 28

The patient had been prepped for surgery, the operating team of Danalta, Naydrad, and himself had been standing by the table for more than twenty minutes, and friend Murchison was still trying to solve Prilicla’s associated non-medical problem. It was trying with such intensity to be patient and reasonable that its emotional radiation was making him tremble.

“Keet,” it was saying, “your life-mate Jasam is unconscious and will not feel pain, either during or while recovering from this procedure. You, however, are feeling the non-material pains of concern, uncertainty, and the continuing emotional trauma over what you think will be the loss of a loved one. To be brutally honest, we may lose Jasam, but we would have a better chance of saving it if you would cooperate by moving out of visual range. Untutored as you are in medical matters, not seeing every incision, resection, and repair as they take place would be easier on you, too. Besides, would Jasam want you to suffer needlessly like this?”

Keet lay watching the towel-draped form of its life-mate from its litter, which it had insisted be moved into the operating room. It made no reply.

“In all my nursing experience,” said Naydrad, its fur ruffling in disapproval, “never has the next of kin, or any other nonmedically-oriented relative, been allowed to witness a procedure of this complexity. On all the civilized worlds I know of, it is just not done. If this is the custom on Trolann, I think it is a misguided, unnecessarily painful, completely wrong, and barbaric custom.”

Prilicla was about to apologize for Naydrad’s forthright speech, but stopped himself because the reasons for the Kelgian species’ lack of tact had already been explained to it, but Keet didn’t give him a chance to talk.

“It is not the custom on Trolann,” it said, radiating anger at the insult. “But neither is it the custom to have a druul present in our operating theaters working on us. Ever.”

He could feel the pathologist beginning to lose its temper, but not completely, because the words it used were intended to achieve a precisely calculated effect.

Murchison said calmly, “The experiences you shared on your ship, your searchsuit as you call it, when Jasam was badly injured and you were unable to leave your control pod to help or comfort or even to be physically close to it, has made a deep impression on your mind. You don’t want to be separated from Jasam — especially, as now, when you think that there is the danger of never seeing it alive again. I can understand and sympathize with that feeling.

“Perhaps this natural concern for your life-mate,” it went on, “has temporarily clouded your intellect and memory, so I shall explain to you once again, that I, no matter how large or small my physical resemblance to one of them, am not a druul. Because of my greater knowledge in some areas I am here simply to advise on problems which may arise during this procedure. I shall not be working on Jasam directly or touching its body at any time. If you insist on being present during this operation, you have my permission to stay. However, seeing your life-mate under the knife will be distressing and psychologically damaging for you, so I suggest that you watch me closely rather than Jasam, just in case I should feel suddenly hungry and want to eat it.”

“And they tell me Kelgians are without tact,” said Danalta.

“Whatever that is,” said Naydrad, its fur spiking in shock. “But the words were inappropriate.”

Prilicla knew that Murchison was deliberately using shock tactics, and felt from Keet’s emotional radiation that they were beginning to work.

“From your observation of Prilicla’s work on your ship,” the pathologist went on, “you know that it is capable of the most delicate and precise healing. You also know that it is hypersensitive to the emotions of those around it, and you must already have realized that your intense feelings of fear, concern, and other emotions can adversely affect its ability to perform the high level of surgery that is required here. For that reason you must at all times keep a tight control of your feelings, natural though they are, so as to avoid distracting Prilicla. Do you understand and agree?”

The Trolanni did not reply, but Prilicla could feel the intensity of Keet’s emotional radiation begin to subside as it fought, successfully, to control its feelings and impose a measure of calm on itself. There was no need for it to speak to this frightful, druul-like creature because there was understanding and agreement and, he noted with pleasure, a feeling of apology.

“Thank you, friend Murchison,” Prilicla said. “We will begin…”

The high concentration of light around the patient, Prilicla thought, during the few times he glanced up to rest his eyes, when contrasted with the grey overcast outside the direct-vision panel, made it seem almost as if night had fallen, and the final time he looked up, the panel was black and it had. At intervals the quiet voice of the captain had been reporting no visible activity from the spider ships, and with the fall of darkness the infrared sensors were confirming its theory that the spiders were not nocturnal creatures.

“Or at least,” Naydrad added, much too loudly for the captain to miss hearing, “they don’t go out on rainy nights. Dr. Prilicla, I think you are in need of sleep.”

“And I feel sure that you are, Doctor,” said Murchison. “The patient’s condition is still critical, but stable enough for us to seal off the lower thoracic area and suspend operations for a few hours. After all, the damage to the lungs where the deep air lines were jerked out by the onboard explosion has been repaired, and it is breathing pure oxygen with no mechanical assistance, as well as being fed intravenously. Repairs to the lesions caused by the traumatic withdrawal of the external feeding and waste-extraction systems can surely wait a little longer for attention?”

“You are probably right, friend Murchison,” Prilicla replied, using the form of words that was the closest he could come to telling anyone they were wrong. “But there are still small traces of toxic material adhering to the ruptured bowel walls, and I would like to remedy that before any cessation. Friend Naydrad, stand by and apply suction where I indicate. Friend Danalta, be ready to follow me in and support the area under the first lesion while I am suturing. Friend Murchison, ease your mind. I promise not to fall asleep on the patient for at least an hour. Now, let us resume.”

Naydrad’s equipment made a low, derisive sound and its fur rippled in concern as it said, “This is the strangest stomach-and-bowel arrangement I’ve ever encountered. Dr. Prilicla, in coloration and structure, it resembles spaghetti, that Earth-human food you like to eat. Is it strange to you, Pathologist?”

“In the light of my earlier and non-serious remark about eating,” said Murchison sharply, radiating disapproval, “it is unseemly to mention food in the presence of the next of kin. And no, the Dwerlans use a similar gastrointestinal tract, although, I admit, not two of them working in tandem. There is nothing new in multispecies medicine, just new combinations of the old. But this one is particularly complex.”

Keet moved restively on its litter and said, “I don’t seriously believe that any of you would want to eat the offal of my life-mate. Even a druul would think twice about doing that. But I can’t see what is happening. Murchison, you’re blocking my view.”

“That was and remains my intention,” said Murchison. “It is kinder to tell you what is happening after it has happened.”

With Naydrad keeping the operative field clear of unwanted fluid, and Danalta extruding the fine digits that could insinuate themselves into the awkward crevices where no inflexible surgical instrument could go so as to hold open the site of the damage, Prilicla was able to see his way to perform the extremely delicate work of repair that was necessary, As the procedure continued, Keet radiated intense but — uncharacteristically for it — silent concern. Murchison was watchful but it did not have to speak at all, because the organic territory they were occupying was becoming increasingly familiar to them. But nearly half an hour later, it did speak.

“Keet,” Murchison said, radiating an increasing level of pleasure and relief that the Trolanni could not feel, “this is going well.”

“Thank you, Murchison,” said Keet.

“You’re welcome,” said the pathologist. “But please remain quiet so as to avoid distracting the team. There is more to do.”

Feeling happier than it had been since the start of the operation, Keet replied by not saying another word. But Murchison was radiating a growing level of concern that was being focused on Prilicla himself. Its words came as no surprise to him.

“You’re tired, sir,” it said, “and the way your legs are wobbling shows that you are badly in need of rest. The remaining work is simple tidying-up and can be completed by Danalta and Naydrad under my direction. But there is another complication which requires treatment. It isn’t urgent or life-threatening, at least so far as the life of the patient itself is concerned, and it can wait, but I suggest we do it while we are in the area so as to avoid having to open up the patient at a later date.”

“Do what, and why?” said Keet suddenly. “I don’t want you cutting Jasam without a very good reason.”

Murchison ignored the interruption but in its calm, lecturing voice managed to answer the questions anyway,

“The problem is principally medical and requires only minor surgery,” it said, using its pencil light as a pointer, “involving as it does infusions into the patient’s endocrine system, specifically the small gland in the area — just there — which is partially atrophied and inactive due to a build-up of toxic material that has been assimilated by the body over many years. With the removal from its toxic home environment and the introduction of the indicated specifics, the chances are that the gland in question can be restimulated to optimum activity in a very short time, and certainly within the period of the patient’s recuperation.”

“What are you talking about?” said Keet.

“… Considering the fact that Trolann’s population is dangerously close to the point of extinction,” Murchison continued, “it would be advantageous after they are transferred to their new world for as many Trolanni couples as possible to be capable of reproducing their kind. With Patient Jasam’s male reproductive system, the treatment is simple and straightforward with no complications foreseen. With Patient Keet, however, in common with the females of the other life-forms in my experience, the mechanism of reproduction and child-bearing is more complex. It would be better if you undertook that procedure yourself, after you have slept, of course. Do you agree?”

For a moment Prilicla was unable to speak. A sudden explosion of emotion from Keet, comprising as it did a mixture of excitement, relief, and pleasure that verged on the joyous, was sending a slow tremors along his body, wings and limbs. He was greatly pleased but not surprised at the way his assistant had handled the situation, and he knew for a fact that Murchison had made a Trolannifriend for life.

As the gale of pleasurable emotion diminished, he withdrew from the table, stretched out his wings and limbs and refolded them tightly to his body before speaking.

“Well done, all of you,” he said. “Friend Murchison, both of your suggestions are approved. Proceed at once with the work on Jasam, and explain to Keet that her life-mate will be rendered unconscious for a period of continuous sedation that will assist its healing, and that there will be nothing more constructive for it to do during that time than to undergo the procedure you suggested.”

“Don’t worry, all that will be explained to Keet,” Murchison broke in. “But now, sir, will you please go to sleep?”

The figures of Murchison, Danalta, Naydrad, the two Trolanni, and the whole OR were beginning to fade around him.

Happily he murmured, “I am asleep.”