Final Diagnosis

CHAPTER 28

In the outer robing compartment, Lioren checked the helmet seals and air supply of his protective suit, a process that was repeated by Charge Nurse Hredlichli in the water-filled nurses’ station, before he was allowed into the ward. Hewlitt wondered if Illensans had a medical monopoly on the senior nursing positions; the two wards he had experienced so far had both been in the charge of chlorine-breathers. Considering the fact that they were separated by the fabric of two protective suits and a few meters of intervening water, the distinctive chlorine smell was probably due to his imagination.

“The patient I am visiting is AUGL Two-Thirty-Three,” said Lioren. “That is the physiological classification for this waterbreathing species, and the case number is used because they do not exchange names other than with members of their family. They are visually frightening, extroverted, and, unless you forbid it, playful in the company of smaller beings, but they will never deliberately harm another sapient creature.”

The Padre began swimming toward the ward entrance, its awkward, twelve-limbed, pyramidal body looking almost graceful underwater. It went on, “Most people feel a certain trepidation at their first sight of a Chalder, and it will not be considered as a lack of emotional fortitude if you are unable to make close physical contact. This is not a dare, so take your time and go out and talk to them only when or if you feel ready.”

For what seemed a longtime, Hewlitt stared through the transparent wall of the nurses’ station into a dim, green world whose outlines were softened by what seemed to be drifting masses of decorative vegetation although, he thought, the larger pieces might have been patients. Hredlichli and a Kelgian nurse were concentrating on their monitors and ignoring him, so without further hesitation he swam slowly into the ward.

The nurses’ station was less than ten meters behind him when, at the limit of visibility, one of the indistinct, dark-green shadows lying in the angle between wall and floor detached itself and came rushing silently toward him like a great, organic torpedo, taking on a terrifying, three-dimensional solidity the closer it came. As it slowed abruptly to a stop, the pressure wave and turbulence from its close approach and the rapid beating of its many fins sent him spinning end over end.

One of the massive fins swept up to lie for an instant along his back, feeling like a soft, firm mattress as it steadied him. Then it withdrew for a short distance to begin circling him, almost nose to tail, like a gigantic, open-ended doughnut that had to be at least twenty meters long. He was free to swim up or downward, but for some reason his arms, legs, and voice refused to work.

At close range he could see that the creature resembled an enormous, armored fish with a heavy, knife-edged tail, a seemingly haphazard arrangement of stubby fins and a collar of thick, ribbon tentacles projecting from gaps in its body armor. When it was in motion the tentacles streamed backward to lie flat along its sides, but they were long enough to reach forward beyond the thick, blunt wedge of the head when it was at rest. The nearer of its two lidless eyes, looking to be about the size and shape of an upturned soup dish, watched him as it circled closer. Suddenly the head divided to reveal a vast, pink cavern of a mouth edged with a triple row of triangular white teeth. The mouth opened even wider.

“Hello,” it said. “Are you the new trainee nurse? We were expecting a Kelgian.”

Hewlitt opened his own mouth, but it was a moment before he found his voice. “N-no,” he said. “I’m not a medic, just a layperson visiting the Chalder ward for the first time.”

“Oh,” said the Chalder. “I hope my approach did not frighten you. Please accept my apologies if it did, but you did not react like a first-time visitor. I am Patient AUGL Two-Eleven. If you give me the case number of the person you wish to visit, I would be pleased to take you to it.”

He was about to introduce himself when he remembered in time that the Chalders did not exchange names, and avoided serious embarrassment for them both. The other’s compliment must have made him him foolhardy, because he found himself saying, “Thank you. But I do not wish to speak to one particular person. Would it be possible to meet and spend a short time with all the patients?”

Patient Two-Eleven closed and opened its mouth several times. Hewlitt wondered if it was about to object when it said, “That would be possible, even desirable, especially to the three patients like myself who are overdue for discharge and are growing bored. But time is limited. The main meal of the day will be released in less than an hour. The food is synthesized, naturally, but highly mobile and lifelike, and smaller beings like yourself are required to vacate the ward during meals in case of an accidental ingestion.”

“Don’t worry,” said Hewlitt, “I shall certainly leave before then.

“That is sensible,” said the Chalder. “May I make an observation and a suggestion that may possibly offend you?”

Hewlitt looked again at the massive, armored body and size of its teeth, then said, “No offense will be taken.”

“Thank you,” it said, moving closer and slightly past him so that only one enormous eye, a side view of the mouth, and a stiffly projecting fin were visible. “Earth-humans are not very efficient in water; you move slowly and must expend much energy to do so. If you would grip the base of the fin that is close to you and hold on tightly with both hands, we can move between the patients in a fraction of the time you would otherwise require.”

Hewlitt hesitated. “The fin looks, well, fragile. Are you sure I won’t damage you?”

“Not at all,” said Two-Eleven. “Admittedly I have been unwell, but I am much stronger than I look.”

Unable to think of a suitable reply, Hewlitt grasped the base of the fin whose thick, red-veined stem sprouted from a gap in the scaly armor like an enormous, translucent rhubarb leaf. He tightened his grip as he felt an invisible something trying to pull him loose, then realized that it was increasing water pressure caused by their motion and that the whole ward, its decorative foliage, the massive figures of the patients, and the diminuitive medical staff were slipping past at speed.

There were no beds in the ward, he saw at once, and realized that that should not have surprised him considering the environment. What appeared to be the equivalent of bedridden patients were tethered loosely to the insides of open-ended treatment frames that looked like uncovered box kites. One of these patients, whose entire body surface was cracked and discolored by either age or disease, was being attended by Lioren. The majority of the others were floating without restraints close to their personal, marked-out areas of wall or ceiling, their eyes fixed on illuminated viewscreens and presumably being entertained. At the far end of the ward, which was apparently their destination, two Chalders were drifting motionless nose to nose. When Two-Eleven and Hewlitt approached, their massive tails flicked and they swung into a ponderous turn to face them, their vast mouths already gaping open.

“You may dismount now,” said Two-Eleven, bringing forward a ribbon tentacle to point. “These are Patients One-NinetyThree and Two-Twenty-One. And this is an Earth-human visitor who would like to talk with us.”

“I can see that it isn’t one of your body parasites,” said OneNinety-Three. “What does it want to talk about? The stupid reason we are still here?”

Before Hewlitt could reply, Two-Twenty-One said, “Please excuse our friend, small air-breather. A combination of impatience, boredom, and homesickness has eroded its manners. Usually its behavior is much better, well, a little better, than this. But its question remains-why are you here and what do you want to say to us?”

Hewlitt waited while the three of them changed position until they hung side by side facing him. The sight of one Chalder jaw and triple set of teeth had almost unnerved him, but three of the enormous mouths gaping open within a few meters of his head was ridiculous rather than frightening, and he felt himself begin to relax. He decided that this was another time to be sparing and perhaps a little inventive with the truth.

“I don’t know what I want to talk about,” he replied. “The subject doesn’t matter, I just want a few minutes’ conversation. I am neither a medic nor a psychologist, just a former patient helping with some follow-up research. Until I am allowed to leave the hospital there is nothing interesting for me to do, so I asked, and was given permission, to spend the time meeting and talking to as many patients and members of the staff as possible.

“Practically every member species of the Federation is represented here,” he went on, “while on Earth I would be lucky to meet five off-worlders in a lifetime. The opportunity was too good to miss.”

“But there are over a hundred Chalders on Earth,” said TwoEleven. “They are advising on the repopulation and education of the semisapient ocean mammals which your ancestors nearly rendered extinct.”

“Most of them are Chalder scientists and their families,” said Hewlitt. “Only a few Earth-human marine biologists are given permission to meet or work with them. Nonspecialist visitors like myself were forbidden, but here visits between fellow patients are allowed.”

“Even so,” said One-Ninety-Three, “it seems to me that a lifeform as physically fragile as yours is taking a serious risk simply to avoid the boredom of waiting to go home. The Chalder environment is friendly compared with some that you will find here. Was there a psychological component to your former illness?”

“Most of the medics at home thought there was,” said Hewlitt, knowing that the irony was lost on them, “but in Sector General the cause of the trouble was removed and the Earth doctors were proved wrong. There is no serious risk, because Padre Lioren has agreed to be my guide and guardian.”

“The hospital must feel an obligation to you,” said the other, “to grant such an unusual request. What was wrong with you?”

He was still trying to think of a suitably unrevealing reply when One-Ninety-Three said, “Probably it was one of those disgusting reproductive problems that these non-egg-layers are prone to. You can see that it doesn’t want to tell us, and anyway, I don’t think I want to know.”

Hewlitt wanted to protest at the implication that he was a non-egg-laying female, but if he did not know whether he was talking to male or female Chalders he could hardly object to them making the same mistake with him.

“Usually,” he said, “the juiciest gossip is associated with some physical or emotional aspect of the reproductive process. You will find me less reticent when telling you about other people’s embarrassments.”

“We understand,” said One-Ninety-Three, “but right now we would prefer to know when we are likely to be sent home. Have you heard anything on that subject?”

“Sorry, no,” said Hewlitt. “But I will try to find out.”

That much is true, he thought, remembering the warning to Rhabwar and the emergency drills that had been held in his former ward. Whether or not he would be allowed to pass on his findings was another matter, because he was beginning to suspect that the explanation was neither simple nor pleasant. But it soon became clear that all the Chalders really wanted to talk about was home.

At first he had expected that their attempts to explain the water world of Chalderescol to him would be like trying to describe a sunset to a person who was color-blind, but he was wrong. Within a few minutes he was experiencing the freedom of an ocean that, apart from two small areas at the poles, covered the planetary surface in places to a depth of over a hundred miles.

The Chalders had battled their way to the top of their evolutionary underwater tree, learned to survive and later to control and utilize the power from their undersea volcanic activity while husbanding the living, nonsapient resources of the most beautiful world in the Federation, although the small-eyed air-breathers like himself required pressure vessels and visual enhancement to appreciate it. They were already a highly civilized species before their discovery of fire and the beginnings of the technology that enabled the very few of their number to fly through the near-vacuum above their ocean and into the space beyond. But no matter how far or often they traveled or their reasons for doing so, they remained a part of Chalderescol’s mother ocean and needed periodically to return to it.

Considering their enormous body mass, the size and complexity of life-support required, and the extreme danger and discomfort involved in traveling in space, Hewlitt wondered why they did not stay at home.

“Why does any otherwise sane person want to travel in space?” said Two-Eleven, making him realize that he had been wondering aloud. “That is a very large philosophical question, and much too complex for debate if you still want to speak to the other patients before the lunch hunt begins. Hold on to my fin again…

His experience with the first three Chalders meant that he was able to speak briefly to the other patients with some understanding of their feelings, or at least without making a complete fool of himself. He stopped beside but did not speak to the gravely ill patient Lioren was visiting, because they were already having a conversation and he thought it better not to intrude. But from his moment of floating beside its treatment frame he was able to establish that it, along with the rest of the ward’s other patients and medical staff, had never been hosts of the virus creature.

He returned to find the food-dispenser outlet beside the nurses’ station open and, drifting horizontally in the water before it, what seemed like more than a hundred flattened, ovoid shapes just under a meter in diameter. Their upper surfaces were covered by irregular patches of dull color while the underside was pale grey. A long, low dorsal fin ran fore and aft, and the rim at the stern was pierced by three circular openings. While he was moving forward for a closer look his hand touched the object, sending it into a slow roll. Suddenly Charge Nurse Hredlichli was beside him.

“What…?“began Hewlitt, and broke off as a shapeless, Illensan limb shot forward, grasped the object, and pulled it level again.

“Do not alter the trajectory,” it said in its usual impatient voice. “For your information, if you do not already have the knowledge, that is a container of concentrated food enclosed in an edible shell and propelled by concealed capsules of high-pressure, nontoxic gas which simulates the movement through water of a fleeing, nonsapient native crustacean. It has been found that mobile food increases the patients’ appetite and has beneficial psychological effects. If the food vehicle were to crash edge-on into a wall or deck and burst, it would leave a mess that my nurses would have to filter out and remove when there are more important duties requiring their attention. Please reenter the nurses’ station and stay out of my head fronds. Patients, your attention please…

Its voice was coming from the ward’s wall speakers as well as his headset, and Hewlitt was being ignored.

“The main lunch release is imminent,” Hredlichli went on. “It will be followed in fifteen minutes by the containers marked with concentric blue circles, which are the special diets required by Patients One-Ninety-Three, Two-Eleven, and Two-Fifteen. Kindly remember that these are not to be consumed by anyone else. Patients confined to their treatment frames will have lunch delivered to them by the nurses once the mobile patients are fed. All medical staff who are not already in the nurses’ station return there at once. Padre Lioren, this includes you.

Lioren returned but did not seem disposed to speak to anyone. Perhaps its mind was still on its sick patient. Hewlitt watched as fans of bubbles jetted from the sterns of the lunch vehicles and they began to accelerate down the ward, their numbers thinned by heavy, darting shapes and clashing jaws. The shape of Hredlichli, looking like a grotesque, plastic-wrapped sickly vegetable, was still drifting close by, and for the first time since his arrival it seemed to have nothing to do.

There were times, he thought, when by pretending to have a little knowledge it was possible to obtain a lot more. He decided to risk a question.

“Charge Nurse,” he said in a brisk, confident voice. “The AUGL classification are not easy to move in an off-world environment. How long would it require for an emergency evacuation of all the patients in your ward, and how would you personally assess the chances of success?”

Inside Hredlichli’s protective envelope a group of oily yellow fronds twitched as it said, “Obviously you are already aware of the emergency. This surprises me because the information is restricted to the very senior medical and maintenance staff and to one charge nurse, myself, whose ward poses a particular problem. Or are you more than a mere curious visitor, and there was another reason why you wished to speak to every patient in my ward?”

The answer to both questions was yes, Hewlitt thought, but he could not say so because the knowledge of the virus creature was also restricted. He wanted to ask for more details about the emergency, but could not because he was supposed to know them, and his earlier curiosity was being diluted by a growing fear.

“Sorry, Charge Nurse,” he said, “I am not at liberty to answer that question.”

More parts of Hredlichli twitched grotesquely. It said, “I do not approve of the secrecy where this ward is concerned. My Chalders are overlarge but they are not stupid. Even in this hospital there are too many people who equate large size with a lack of sensitivity. If my patients were to learn that there is a malfunction in the power-generation system that threatens the entire hospital and that they, because of their great size and consequent difficulty of evacuation, would be among the last to leave or, worse, that there might not be time enough to modify enough ships to ac commodate them, they would not panic or try to break out. Your poisonous, rarefied atmosphere outside this ward would be as deadly to them as my own chlorine or space itself. Those that were left behind would accept their fate, and no doubt insist that their medical attendants save themselves, because they are intelligent, sensitive, and caring monsters.”

“I agree,” said Hewlitt. He had recently met all of them and knew. He had also had frightening confirmation of the reason for the emergency drills that were apparently being conducted everywhere but the Chalder ward, but uppermost in his mind was a sudden and inexplicable liking for this ghastly chlorine-breather. He added reassuringly, “It might never happen, Charge Nurse. This is a problem for the maintenance engineers. No doubt they will be able to solve it in time.”

“Considering the time it took for them to repair the waste extractor on One-Eighty-Seven’s treatment frame,” Hredlichli replied, returning to character, “I lack your confidence.”

All of Lioren’s eyes had been directed at him while he was talking to the charge nurse, but the Padre did not comment and it remained silent after they returned to the corridor. Hewlitt wondered if his conversation with Hredlichli had caused the other to take offense.

“Are we agreed,” he said, “that there are no former virus hosts in the Chalder ward?”

“Yes,” said Lioren.

The word had punched a small hole in the other’s wall of silence. But Hewlitt’s fear was growing and so was his impatience to know more, and he knew that his next words might close the hole again.

“Did you know the reason for the evacuation drills?” he asked. “Were you deliberately keeping it from me?”

“Yes,” said the Padre.

Before Hewlitt could ask the obvious question, Lioren answered it.

“There were three reasons,” it went on. “You have already been told one of them, that you are not a specialist in the relevant field so that being given complete and accurate information could not have contributed to a solution of the problem. As well, the knowledge would have worried you unnecessarily and might have had an adverse effect on your conduct of our search. And my own incomplete knowledge was gained in circumstances which preclude me passing it on. In any case, you found out as much about the emergency from Hredlichli as I did, so I now feel free to discuss the situation with you. In general terms, at least.”

“Does that mean,” he said, trying to control his irritation, “that there is something that you are still not telling me? For my own peace of mind, naturally.”

“Yes,” said Lioren.

This time it was Hewlitt who erected the wall of silence, because the words he felt like using were not those normally spoken to a Padre, and it was Lioren who was trying to demolish it.

“The next call,” it said, “is to a patient in the SNLU ward. It is an ultra-frigid, methane life-form with a crystalline tissue structure that is hypersensitive to bright light and minute increases in temperature. The environmental-protection vehicle is cumbersome, heavily insulated, fitted with sensory enhancement and remote manipulator systems. Because of the patients’ extreme aural sensitivity it is necessary to attenuate external sound output and amplify the input. It is a very quiet ward. You will be able to move close to my patient, and the three others who are under treatment, when I introduce you, but then you must leave the two of us alone as you did in the Chalder ward and talk to the others. You will not have to concern yourself with your vehicle’s controls; one of the staff will guide it remotely from the nurses’ station.”

Still feeling angered by the other’s implication that he could not be trusted with sensitive information without losing his emotional control, Hewlitt remained silent.

“You will find,” Lioren added, “that the SNLU environment will cool even the hottest temper.