"Sir! Another, no, two more traces. Similar mass and configuration as the

distressed vessel. Also smaller, widely scattered pieces of metallic wreckage."

"That's the other reason why we released our beacon," Nelson's voice sounded

from Tyrell. "We don't have your long-range sensor equipment—our stuff is

chiefly photooptical and computing gear associated with survey work—but this

area seems to be littered with wreckage and, while I don't entirely agree with

my medic that some of it must contain survivors, the possibility does exist

that—"

"You were quite right to call for help, Captain Nelson," Conway said, breaking

in. "We would much rather answer a dozen false alarms than risk missing one

which might mean a rescue. Space accidents being what they are, most distress

calls are answered too late in any case. However, Captain, as a matter of

urgency we need the physiological classification of the wreck's survivors and

the nature and extent of their injuries so that we can begin making preparations

for accommodating and treating them.

"I am Senior Physician Conway," he enaea. may i apvan ;to your medical

officer?"

There was a long, hissing silence during which Haslam reported several more

traces and added that, while the data were far from complete, the distribution

of the wreckage was such that he was fairly certain that the accident had

happened ; to a very large ship which had been blown apart into uniform pieces,

and that the wreckage alongside Tyrell and the -other similar pieces which were

appearing all over his screens were lifeboats. Judging by the spread of the

wreckage so far detected, the disaster had not been a recent occurrence.

Then the speaker came to life again with a flat, emotionless voice, robbed of

all inflection by the process of translation. "I am Surgeon-Lieutenant

Krach-Yul, Doctor Conway," it said. "My knowledge of other-species physiology is

small, since I have had medical experience with only the Earth-human, Ni-dian,

and my own Orligian life-forms, all of which, as you know, fall within the DBDG

warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing

classification."

The fact that the natives of Orligia and their planetary neighbor Nidia had a

marked disparity in physical mass and one of them possessed an overall coat of

tight, curly red fur was too small a difference to affect the four-letter

classification coding, Conway thought as the other doctor was talking. Just like

the small difference which had, in the early days of their stellar exploration,

caused Orligia and Earth to fight the first, brief, and so far only interstellar

war.

For this reason the Orligians and Earth-humans were more than friendly—nowadays

they went out of their way to help each other—and it was a great pity that

Krach-Yul was too professionally inexperienced to be really helpful. All Conway

could hope for was that the Orligian medic had had sense enough to restrain its

professional curiosity and not poke its friendly, furry nose into a situation

which was completely beyond its experience.

"We did not enter the wreck," the Orligian was saying, "because our crew members

are not specialists in alien technology and there was the danger of them

inadvertently contributing to the problem rather than its solution. I

considered telling through die hull and withdrawing a sample of the wreck's

S.G.—7

atmosphere, in the hope that the survivor was a warm-blooded oxygen breather

like ourselves and we could pump in air. But I decided against this course in

case their atmosphere was an exotic mixture which we could not supply and we

would then have reduced their ship's internal pressure to no purpose.

"We are not certain that there is a survivor, Doctor," Krach-Yul went on. "Our

sensors indicate pressure within the wreck, a small power source, and the

presence of what appears to be one large mass of organic material which is

incompletely visible through the viewports. We do not know if it is living."

Conway sighed. Where extraterrestrial physiology and medicine were concerned

this Krach-YuI was uneducated, but it certainly was not unintelligent. He could

imagine the Orligian qualifying on its home planet, moving to the neighboring

world of Nidia, and later joining the Monitor Corps to further increase its e-t

experience and, while treating the minor ills and injuries of an Earth-human

scoutship crew, hoping for something just like this to happen. The Orligian was

probably one great, furry lump of curiosity regarding the organic contents of

the wreck, but it knew its professional limitations. Conway was already

developing a liking for the Orligian medic, sight unseen.

"Very good, Doctor," Conway said warmly. "But I have a request. Your vessel has

a portable airlock. To save time would you mind—"

"It has already been deployed, Doctor," the Orligian broke in, "and attached to

the wreck's hull over the largest entry port we could find. We are assuming it

is an entry port, but it could be a large access panel because we did not try to

open it. The wreck was spinning about its lateral axis and this motion was

checked by Tyrell's tractor-beams, but otherwise the vessel is as we found it."

Conway thanked the other and unstrapped himself from his couch. He could see

several new traces on the radar display, but it was the picture of Tyrell and

the wreck growing visibly larger on the forward screen which was his immediate

concern.

"What are your intentions, Doctor?" the Captain asked.

Indicating the image of the wreck, Conway said, "It doesn't seem to be too badly

damaged and there isn't much sharp metal in sight so, in the interests of a fast

recovery, my people will wear lightweight suits. I shall take Pathologist

Murchison and

Doctor Prilicla. Charge Nurse Naydrad will remain in the Casualty Deck lock

with the litter, ready to pressurize it with the survivors' atmosphere as soon

as Murchison analyzes it. You, sir, will come along to pick the alien airlock?"

Rhabwar was the first of its kind. Designed as a special ambulance ship, it had

the configuration and mass of a Federation light cruiser, which was the largest

type of Monitor Corps vessel capable of aerodynamic maneuver within a planetary

atmosphere. As he pulled himself aft along the gravity-free central well, Conway

was visualizing its gleaming white hull and delta wings decorated with the

Occluded Sun, the Brown Leaf, the Red Cross, and the many other symbols which

represented the concept of aid freely given throughout the worlds of the

Federation.

It was a Traltha-built ship with all the design and structural advantages which

that implied, and named Rhabwar after one of the great figures of Tralthan

medical history. The ship had been designed for operation by an Earth-human

crew, whose quarters were immediately below Control on Deck Two. The medical

team occupied similar accommodation on Three except in the matter of furniture

and bedding for the Kelgian Charge Nurse and reduced artificial gravity for the

Cinrusskin empath.

Deck Four was a compromise, Conway thought as he pulled himself past it, a

combination Messdeck and recreation room where the people who worked together

were expected, regardless of physiological classification, to play

together—even though there was barely enough room to play a game of chess when

everyone was present. The whole of Five was devoted to the ship's consumables,

which comprised not only the food required by six Earth-humans, a Kelgian, and a

Cinrusskin of classifications DBDG, DBLF, and GLNO respectively, but the storage

tanks whose contents were capable of reproducing or synthesizing the atmosphere

breathed by any species known to the Galactic Federation.

Six and Seven, where Conway was headed, were the Casualty Deck and underlying

lab and treatment ward. Here the gravity, atmospheric pressure, and composition

could be varied to suit the life-support requirements of any survivors who might

be brought in. Deck Eight was the Power Room, the province of Lieutenant Chen,

who controlled the ship's hyperdrive gen-

erators and normal space thrusters, the power supply for the artificial gravity

grids, tractor and pressor beams, communications, sensors, and everything which

made the energy-hungry ship live.

Conway was still thinking of the diminuitive Chen and the frightful powers

available at the touch of one of his stubby fingers when he arrived on the

Casualty Deck. He did not have to speak because his earlier conversation with

the Captain had been relayed to Casualty, as were the more interesting and

important displays on Control's screens. There was nothing for him to do except

climb into his spacesuit—he had a very good medical team who kept their

equipment and themselves at instant readiness, and who tried constantly to make

their leader feel redundant.

Murchison was bending and stretching to check the seals of her lightweight

spacesuit, and Naydrad was inside the casualty entrance lock testing a pressure

litter, its beautiful silver fur rippling in slow waves along its

caterpillarlike body as it worked. The incredibly fragile Prilicla, aided by its

gravity nullifiers and a double set of iridescent wings, was hovering close to

the ceiling where it would not be endangered by an accidental collision with one

of its more massive colleagues. Its eight, pipestem legs were twitching slowly

in unison, indicating that it was being exposed to emotional radiation of a

pleasurable kind.

Murchison looked from Prilicla to Conway and said, "Stop that."

Conway knew that it was Murchison, albeit indirectly, and himself who were

responsible for the Cinrusskin's twitchings. Prilicla, like the other members of

its intelligent and sensitive race, possessed a highly developed empathic

faculty which caused it to react to the most minute changes and levels of

feeling in those surrounding it. Pathologist Murchison possessed that

combination of physical attributes which made it extremely difficult for any

Earth-human male DBDG to regard her with anything like clinical detachment—and

while she was Wearing a contour-hugging lightweight suit it was downright

impossible.

"Sorry," Conway said, laughing, and began climbing into his own suit.

The wreck looked like a long section of metal tree trunk with a few short,

twisted branches sprouting from it, Conway thought as they launched themselves

from Rhabwar's casualty lock toward the distressed alien ship, but apart from

those pieces of projecting metal the vessel seemed to have retained its

structural integrity. He could see two small viewports reflecting the ambulance

ship's floodlights like two tiny suns. One of the ports was set about two meters

back from the bows of the wreck and the other a similar distance from the stern,

although it was impossible to say just then which was which, and he had learned

that there were another two viewports in identical positions on the side hidden

from him.

He could also see the loose, transparent folds of Tyrell's portable airlock

clinging to the hull like a wrinkled limpet and, beside it, the tiny figure of

what could only be the scoutship's Orligian medic, Krach-Yul.

Fletcher, Mufchison, and Conway landed beside the Orligian. They did not speak

and they tried hard not to think so that Prilicla, who was slowly circling the

distressed vessel, would be able to feel for survivors with the minimum of

emotional interference. If anything lived inside that wreck, no matter how

faintly the spark of life glowed, the little empath would detect it.

"This is very strange, friend Conway," said Prilicla after nearly fifteen

minutes had passed and they were all radiating feelings of impatience in spite

of themselves. "There is life on board, one source only, and the emotional

radiation is so very faint that I cannot locate it with accuracy. And contrary

to what I would expect in these circumstances, there are no indications that the

survivor is in a distressed condition."

"Could the survivor be an infant?" Krach-Yul asked, "Left in a safe place by

adults who perished, and too young to realize that there is danger?"

Prilicla, who never disagreed with anyone because to do so might give rise to

unpleasant emotional radiation from the other party, said, "The possibility

cannot be dismissed, friend Krach-Yul."

"An embryo, then," Murchison said, "who still lives within its dead parent?"

"That is not impossible, either, friend Murchison," Prilicla replied.

"Which means," the Pathologist said, laughing, "that you don't think much of

that idea, either."

"But there is a survivor," the Captain said impatiently, "so let's go in and get

it out."

Fletcher wriggled through the double seal of the portable airlock and under the

folds of tough, transparent plastic which, when inflated, would form a chamber

large enough for them to work at extricating the survivor and, if necessary,

provide emergency treatment. Murchison and Conway, meanwhile, spenf several

minutes at each of the tiny viewports, which were so deeply recessed that their

helmet lights showed only areas of featureless leathery tegument.

When they joined the Captain in the lock, Fletcher said, "There are only so many

ways of opening a door. It can hinge inward or outward, unscrew in either

direction, slide open, or dilate. The actuator for this one appears to be a

simple recessed lever which—Oh!"

The large metal hatch was swinging open. Conway tensed, waiting to feel the

outward rush of the ship's air tugging at his suit and inflating the portable

lock, but nothing else happened. The Captain grasped the edge with both hands,

detached his foot magnets so that his legs swung away from the hull, and drew

his head deep inside the opening. "This isn't an airlock but a simple access

hatch to mechanisms and systems situated between the inner and outer hulls. I

can see cable runs, plumbing, and what looks like a—"

"I need an air sample," Murchison said, "quickly." "Sorry, ma'am," Fletcher

said. He let go with one hand and pointed carefully, then went on, "It seems

obvious that only the inner hull is airtight. It should be safe enough for you

if you site your drill in the angle between that support bracket and cable loom

just there. I don't know how efficient their insulation is, but that cable is

too thin to carry much power. The color coding suggests that their visual range

is similar to ours, wouldn't you say?"

"I would," Murchison agreed.

Conway said quickly, "If you use a Five drill it will be wide enough to take an

Eye."

"I intend doing that," she said dryly.

The drill whirred briefly, the sound conducted through the metal of the hull and

the fabric of Conway's suit, and a sample of the ship's atmosphere hissed

through the hollow drill-head and into the analyzer.

"The pressure is a little low by our standards," she reported quietly, "but that

could be dangerously low or normal so far as the survivor is concerned.

Composition, the proportion of oxygen to inert gases, makes it a warm-blooded,

oxygen-breathing life-form. I shall now insert the Eye."

Conway saw her detach the analyzer from the hollow drill and, so expertly that

she could not have lost more than a few cubic centimeters of ship's atmosphere

in the process, replace it with the Eye. Very carefully she threaded in the

transparent tube containing the lens, light source, and vision recorder through

the hollow center of the drill, then attached the eyepiece and magnifier which_

would enable her to use the instrument while wearing a space helmet.

For what seemed like an hour but was probably only ten minutes she swiveled the

lens and varied the light intensity, without speaking. Then she wriggled

backward out of the opening to give Conway and the others a look.

"It's big," she said.

The interior of the wreck was a hollow cylinder completely free of compartment

dividers or structural crossmembers and the floor—Conway was assuming it was the

floor because it was flat and ran the length of the ship—had a double line of

closely spaced holes three or four inches in diameter running down the middle.

Seven or eight pairs of the survivor's feet disappeared into the holes so they

were probably part of the vessel's system of safety restraints, as were the

broad bands of torn webbing which floated loosely about its body.

The Eye was positioned close to floor level so that Conway could see the being's

flank along the section whose feet were held in the deck holes. Farther along,

where the feet had been pulled free by the force of the accident to its ship, he

could see in detail the double line of stubby, centipedal legs and the pale-gray

underside. In the opposite direction—he could not

tell whether it was toward the being's head or tail—he could make out part of

the upper surface of the creature and a single line of dorsal tentacular

appendages. The long, cylindrical compartment did not give the being much room

to maneuver arid the twists and curves of the weightless, flaccid body seriously

hampered viewing, but at the limit of his vision Conway could just make out

three lengths of tubing, pencil thin, transparent, and apparently flexible,

which sprouted from a container attached to the wall to disappear into the body

of the survivor.

Despite the multiplicity of the being's arms and legs there seemed to be very

little if anything for it to do. Apart from a large number of wall-mounted

storage cabinets, the interior of the ship was bare of anything resembling

control and indication systems or any obvious means by which the vessel could be

guided by its occupant—unless, of course, there was a small control center

forward in the area concealed by the survivor's body.

Conway must have been thinking aloud because the Captain, who had just returned

from an external examination of the ship, said seriously, "There is nothing for

it to do, Doctor. Except for a very unsophisticated power cell which, at

present, is not being used to power anything, there is nothing. No propulsion

unit, no attitude control jets, no recognizable external sensors or

communications, no personnel lock. I'm beginning to wonder if this is a ship or

some kind of survival pod. This would explain the odd configuration of the

vessel, which is a cylinder of constant diameter with a perfectly flat face at

each end. However, when I sighted along the hull in an effort to detect minor

protrusions which could have housed sensor equipment, I observed that the

cylinder was very slightly curved along its longitudinal axis. This opens up

another possibility which—"

"What about power sources and comm equipment mounted outboard?" Conway broke in

before the Captain's observations could develop into a lecture on ship design

philosophy. "We have matched hyperdrive generators on our wingtips and perhaps

these people had a similar idea."

"No, Doctor," Fletcher said in the cool, formal tone he used when he thought

someone was trying to tell him his business. "I examined those external spars,

which have been broken off too short to give any indication of the type of

structure they

supported, but the wiring still attached to them is much too thin to carry power

to a hyperspace generator. In fact, I seriously doubt if these people had

either hyperdrive or artificial gravity, and the general level of technology

displayed is pretty elementary for a star-traveling race. Then there is the

apparent absence of an entry port. An airlock for this beastie would have to be

almost as long as the vessel itself."

"There are a few star-traveling species who do not use them," Conway said. "For

purely physiological reasons they do not indulge in extravehicular activity,

entering and leaving their ships only at time of departure and arrival."

"Suppose," Murchison said, "this vehicle is the being's spacesuit."

"A nice idea, ma'am, but no," Fletcher said apologetically. "Apart from the four

viewports, whose angles of vision are severely limited because of their small

size and the space between the outer and inner hulls, there is no sensory input

of any kind known to me and, more important, no external manipulators. But

there must be some easy way of getting that beastie into and out of that thing,

whether it is a ship, a survival pod, or something else."

There was a long silence, then Conway said, "I'm sorry, Captain. A few minutes

ago you were about to mention a third possibility when I interrupted you."

"I was," Fletcher said in the tone of one graciously receiving an apology. "But

you will understand, Doctor, that the theory is based on my initial visual

observation only and not, as yet, supported by accurate measurements.

Nevertheless, as I have already stated, this vessel is not a true cylinder but

appears to be curved slightly along its longitudinal axis.

"Now, an explosion or collision sufficiently violent to warp the cylinder out of

true," he went on, slipping into his lecturing manner, "would buckle and open up

seams in the hull plating, and leave evidence of heat discoloration and

indentations from flying debris. There are no such indications. So if the

longitudinal axis of the vessel is, in fact, a very flat curve rather than a

straight line, then the curvature was deliberate, built in. This would explain

the lack of power and control linkages and an artificial gravity system because

they used—"

"Of course!" Conway broke in. "The hull beneath the flat

deck was outward facing and free of structural projections, which means that

they got their gravity the old-fashioned way by-"

"Will one of you," Murchison said crossly, "kindly tell me what you are talking

about?"

"Certainly," Conway said. "The Captain has convinced me that this structure is

not a ship or a lifeboat, but a section of a space station, an early Wheeltype

of very large diameter, which suffered a collision."

"A space station away out here?" Murchison sounded incredulous. Then she began

to realize the implications and added feelingly, "In that case we could have an

awful lot of work ahead of us."

"Maybe not, ma'am," Fletcher said. "Admittedly there is a strong possibility of

finding many more space station segments, but the survivors may be very few."

His tone became suddenly forceful. "Transferring that creature to our Casualty

Deck is out of the question. Instead I suggest we attach it to our hull, extend

Rhabwar's hyperspace envelope accordingly, and whisk it back to Sector General

where their airlocks can easily handle a patient extraction problem of this

size. I am not the e-t medical specialist, of course, but I think we should do

this at once, leaving Tyrell to search for other survivors, and then return as

soon as possible for the others." "No," Conway said firmly.

"I don't understand you, Doctor." Behind his helmet visor Fletcher's face had

gone red.

Conway ignored him for a moment while he addressed Murchison and Prilicla, who

had drifted closer in spite of the strong emotional radiation being generated in

the area. He said, "The survivor, so far as we are able to see, is linked to

what appears to be some kind of life-support system by three separate sets of

tubing. It is deeply unconscious but not physically distressed. There is also

the fact that its vessel contains a reservoir of power which is not presently

being used. Now, would either of you agree that the observed emotional radiation

and apparent lack of physical injury could be the result of it being in a

hibernation anesthesia condition?"

Before either of them could reply, Conway added, "Since there is no evidence of

the presence of the power-hungry,

complex refrigeration systems which we associate with suspended animation

techniques, just three sets of tubing entering its body, would you also agree

that the life-form is a natural hibernator?"

There was a short silence, then Murchison said, "We are familiar with the idea

of long-term suspended animation being associated with star travel—that used to

be the only way to do it, after all, and the cold-sleeping travelers would

require neither air nor food during their trips. In the case of a life-form with

the ability to go periodically into a state of hibernation for planetary

environmental reasons, a minimal supply of food and air would be required. It is

quite possible that the natural process of hibernation could be artificially

initiated, extended, and counteracted by specific medication and the food

supplied intravenously, as seems to be the case with our friend here."

"Friend Conway," Prilicla said, "the survivor's emotional radiation pattern

agrees in every particular with the hypothesis of hibernation anesthesia." •

Captain Fletcher was not slow on the uptake. He said, "Very well, Doctor. The

survivor has been in this condition for a very long time, so there is no great

urgency about moving it or the other survivors we might find to the hospital.

But what are your immediate intentions?"

Conway was aware of a multiple, purely subjective silence as the party on the

alien's hull and the communications officers who were listening in on Rhabwar

and Tyrell held their collective breath. He cleared his throat and said, "We

will examine this section of space station, if that is what it is, as closely as

possible without entering it, and simultaneously make as detailed a visual

examination of the survivor as we can using the Eye, and then we will all try to

think."

He had the feeling, very strong and not at all pleasant to judge by the

trembling of Prilicla's spidery limbs, that this was not going to be an easy

rescue.

For a little over three hours, the duration remaining to their lightweight

suits, they did nothing but think as they examined the exterior of the wreck and

what little they could see of its occupant, slowly adding data which might or

might not be important. But they thought as individuals, increasingly baffled

individuals, so that it was not until they met on Rhabwar's Messdeck and

recreation level that they were able to think as an equally baffled group.

Tyrett was represented by its Captain, Major Nelson, .and Surgeon-Lieutenant

Krach-Yul, while Major Fletcher and the astrogation officer, Lieutenant Dodds,

furnished the required military balance for Rhabwar. Murchison, Prilicla,

Naydrad, and Conway—who were, after all, mere civilians—filled the remainder of

the deck space with the exception of the empath, who was clinging to the safety

of the ceiling.

It was Prilicla, knowing that nobody else felt ready to contribute any useful

ideas, who spoke first.

"I feel that we are all agreed," it said in the musical trills and clicks of the

Cinrusskin tongue, which emanated from their translator packs as faultless if

somewhat toneless speech in the languages of Kelgia, Orligia, and Earth, "that

the being is in a state of suspended animation, that there is a high probability

that it is not a patient but a survivor who should be returned to its home world

as soon as convenient if this planet can be found, and that the need to move it

is not an urgent one."

Lieutenant Dodds looked at Fletcher for permission to speak, then said, "It

depends on what you mean by urgent, Doctor. I ran a vectors and velocities check

on this and the other pieces of wreckage within detector range. These bits of

alien vessel or space station occupied roughly the same volume of space

approximately eighty-seven years ago, which is when the disaster must have

occurred. If it was a ship I don't think it was heading for the nearby sun since

there are no planets, but a lot of the dispersed wreckage will either fall into

the sun or pass closely enough to make no difference to any other survivors in

hibernation. This will begin to occur in just over eleven weeks."

They digested that for a moment, then Tyrell's Captain said, "I still say a

space station way out here is impossible, especially one traveling at such a

clip that its wreckage will reach the sun, there, in eleven weeks. It is far

more likely that the survivor is in a lifeboat with suspended animation

extending the duration of its consumables."

Fletcher glared at his fellow captain, then he noticed Prilicla beginning to

tremble. He visibly calmed himself as he said,

ono i un

"It is not impossible, Major Nelson, although it is unlikely. Let us suppose

that the survivor's race, which is at the interplanetary flight level of

technology, was beginning to experiment with hyperspace generation on its space

station and inadvertently performed a random Jump and found themselves very far

indeed from home, and subsequently went into hibernation for the reason you

have stated. Many such accidents have occurred during early experiments with

hypertravel. In any case, I think we are drawing too many conclusions from what

is, after all, only one small piece of a very large jigsaw."

Conway decided to join in before this spirited exchange of technical views could

devolve into a quarrel. He said placat-ingly, "But what conclusions, however few

and tentative, can we draw from the piece you have examined, Captain? And what,

however vaguely, can you see of the complete picture?"

"Very well," said Fletcher. He quickly inserted his vision spool from the wreck

into the Recreation Deck's display unit and began to describe everything he had

observed and deduced during his examination of the distressed vessel, which he

preferred to think of as a simple, pressurized container rather than a ship. It

was a cylinder just over twenty meters in length and approximately three meters

in diameter, with ends which were flat except for a, set of eight couplings

which would enable it to be connected at either end to other similar containers.

The couplings had been designed to break open before any external shock or force

applied to adjacent structures could damage or deform the container. If the

dimensions of the other containers or space station sections were the same as

the one examined, and if the longitudinal curvature was uniform in all of them,

then approximately eighty of these sections would form a Wheel just under five

hundred meters in diameter.

He paused, but Major Nelson still had his lips pressed tightly together, and the

others, knowing that a reaction was expected of them, kept perversely silent.

The section had a double hull with only the inner one pressurized, Fletcher

resumed, but it possessed no control, sensor, or power systems other than those

associated with the suspended animation equipment. The level of technology

displayed was advanced interplanetary rather than interstellar, so the station

had no business being where it was in the first place.

But the most puzzling feature of the container was the method used to enter and

leave it.

They had already seen that there were no openings on the hull large enough to

allow entry or exit by the survivor, which meant that it had to enter and leave

via the flat, circular plate at each end of the cylinder. In Fletcher's opinion

the creature went in one end and came out the other because physically it was

too massive to turn itself around inside its container. But there was nothing

resembling a door at either end of the cylinder, just the two large circular

plates whose edges were set inside the thick rims which supported the couplings.

"So far as I can see there is no operating mechanism for these endplates,"

Fletcher went on with the hint of an apology creeping into his tone. "There are

only so many ways for a door to open, and there has to be a door into and out of

that thing, but I can't find one. I even considered explosive bolts, with the

extraterrestrial sealed in until it arrived or was taken by its rescuers to an

environmentally suitable position—either a planet or the hold of a rescue

ship—whereupon it would blow the hatch fastenings and crawl out. But there are

no hatch fastenings that I can see and the rim structure surrounding the

hatches, if that is what they are, would not allow them to be blown open.

Neither can they be opened inward because the diameter of the inner, pressurized

hull is much smaller than that of the endplates."

Fletcher shook his head in bafflement and ended, "I'm sorry, Doctor. Right now I

can see no way for you to get to your survivor without cutting its ship apart.

What I need is another piece of this jigsaw puzzle to examine, a broken piece

which will let me see how the other undamaged pieces were put together."

There was silence for a few seconds, during which Prilicla trembled in sympathy

with the Captain's embarrassment, then Murchison spoke.

"I would like to examine a broken piece as well," she said quietly.

"Specifically, a piece containing a nonsurvivor which would let me see how our

survivor is put together."

Con way turned to Dodds. "Are there many pieces which look as if they had been

broken up?"

"A few," replied the astrogator. "Most of the traces give

sensor readings similar to the first piece. That is, a vehicle of similar mass

retaining internal pressure and containing a small power source. All of the

pieces, including the few damaged ones, are at extreme sensor range. It is a

long way to go on impulse drive, but if we jumped through hyperspace we would

probably overshoot."

"How many pieces altogether?" asked Nelson.

"Twenty-three solid traces so far," said Dodds, "plus a few masses of what

appears to be loose, structural debris. There is also one largish mass,

unpressurized and radioactive, which I'd guess was part of a power center."

From its position on the ceiling, Prilicla said, "If I might make a suggestion,

and if Major Nelson is willing to interrupt his survey mission... ?"

Nelson laughed suddenly and the other Corps officers present smiled. With great

feeling he went on, "There isn't a scout-ship crew on survey duty anywhere in

the Galaxy who would not rather be doing something, anything, else! You only

have to ask and give me half an excuse for accepting, Doctor."

"Thank you, friend Nelson," said the empath with a slow tremor of pleasure. "My

suggestion is that Rhabwar and Tyrell act independently to seek out other

survivors and return them to this area, using tractor beams if the distance is

short enough for impulse drive or by extending the hyperspace envelopes to

include them if a Jump is necessary. My empathic faculty enables me to identify

sections containing living occupants and, because of the large mass of these

beings, Doctor Krach-Yul and Nurse Naydrad should accompany me to assist with

treatment, should this be possible. Pathologist Murchison and you, friend

Conway, are well able to identify living casualties by more orthodox means if

the ship's sensors are uncertain.

"This will halve the time needed to search for other survivors," Prilicla ended

apologetically, "even though the period will still be a lengthy one."

Tyrell's medical officer spoke for the first time, its whining and barking

speech translating as "1 always assumed that a space rescue by ambulance ship

would be a fast, dramatic, and decisive operation. This one appears to be

disappointingly slow."

"1 agree, Doctor," said Conway. "We need help if this job is not to take months

instead of a few days. Not one scoutship

but a flotilla, or better yet a squadron of them to search the entire—"

Captain Nelson began to laugh, then broke off when he saw that Conway was

serious. He said, "Doctor, I'm just a major in the Monitor Corps and so is

Captain Fletcher. We haven't got the rank to whistle up a flotilla of scoutships

no matter how much you think we need them. All we can do is explain the

situation and put in a very humble request."

Fletcher looked at his fellow Captain and opened his mouth to speak, then

changed his mind.

Conway smiled and said, "I am a civilian, Captain, with no rank at all. Or

considered in another way, I, as a specialist member of the public, have

ultimate authority over people like yourselves who are public servants—"

Clearing his throat noisily, Fletcher said, "Please spare us the political

philosophy, Doctor. Do you wish me to get off a subspace signal to Sector base

requesting massive assistance because of a large number of widely scattered

potential survivors of a hitherto unknown life-form?"

"That's it," said Conway. "And would you also take charge of assigning search

areas to the scoutships if and when they arrive? In the meantime we'll do as

Prilicla suggests, except that Murchison and I will go in Tyrell, if that is

agreeable to you, Captain."

"A pleasure," said Nelson, looking at Murchison.

"Because your crew aren't used to our fragile friend scampering about on their

ceilings and there might be an accident," he continued. "But right now we'll

need help to transfer some of our portable equipment to your ship."

While their gear was being moved to the scoutship and Conway was trying hard to

keep Murchison from transferring the Casualty Deck's diagnostic and treatment

equipment in toto, Tyrell's portable airlock was detached from the alien vessel

and restowed on board in case it would be needed on one of the other widely

scattered sections. Several times as they worked, Rhabwar's lighting and gravity

control fluctuated in momentary overload, indicating that Conway's subspace

signal was going out.

He knew that Fletcher was keeping the signal as brief as possible because the

power required to punch a message through

the highly theoretical medium of subspace from a vessel of Rhabwar's relatively

small size would have Lieutenant Chen in the Power Room chewing his nails. Even

so, that signal would be splattered with interstellar static and have audible

holes blown through it by every intervening cloud of ionized gas, star, or

quasistellar object, and for that reason the message had been speeded up many

times and repeated so that the people at the receiving end would be able to

piece together a normal-speed coherent message from the jumble reaching them.

But their response to the signal was an entirely different matter, Conway

thought worriedly. Despite his seeming confidence before the others, he did not

know what would happen because this was the first time he had made such a

request.

Nelson had invited Murchison and Conway to Control so that they could observe

Tyrell's approach to the second section of alien space station to be

investigated, and so that his crew could observe the pathologist. Since the

subspace signal had gone out six hours earlier, the Captain had been regarding

Conway with a mixture of anxiety and awe as if he did not know whether the

Doctor was seriously self-deluded or a highly potent individual indeed.

The messages which erupted from his Control Room speaker shortly afterward, and

which continued with only a few minutes' break between them for the best part

of the next hour, resolved his doubts but left him feeling even more confused.

"Scoutship Tedlin to Rhabwar. Instructions please."

"Scoutship Tenelphi to Rhabwar, requesting reassignment instructions."

"Scoutship Torrance, acting flotilla leader. I have seven units and eighteen

more to follow presently. You have work for us, RhabwarT'

Finally Nelson muted the speaker and the sound of Captain Fletcher assigning

search areas to the newly arrived scoutships, which were being ordered to search

for sections of the alien space station and bring them to the vicinity of

Rhabwar. With so much help available, Fletcher had decided that the ambulance

ship would not itself join in the search but would instead remain by the first

section to coordinate the operation and give medical assistance. Confident that

the situation was under con-

trol, Conway relaxed and turned to face Captain Nelson, whose curiosity had

become an almost palpable thing.

"You—you are just a doctor, Doctor?" he said.

"That's right, Captain," Murchison said before Conway could reply. She laughed

and went on, "And stop looking at him like that, you'll give him an inflated

sense of his own importance."

"My colleagues are constantly on guard against the possibility of that

happening," Conway said dryly. "But Pathologist Murchison is right. I am not

important, nor are any of the Monitor Corps officers or the medical team on

Rhabwar. It is our job which is important enough to command the reassignment of

a few flotillas of scoutships to assist."

"But it requires the rank of subfleet Commander or highej to order such a

thing—" Nelson began, and broke off as Con-way shook his head.

"To explain it I must first fill in some background, Captain," he said. "Some of

this information is common knowledge. Much of it is not because the relevant

decisions of the Federation Council and their effects on Monitor Corps

operational priorities are too recent for it to have filtered down to you. And

you'll excuse me, I hope, if some of it is elementary, especially to a scoutship

Captain on a survey mission..."

Only a tiny fraction of the Galaxy had been explored by the Earth-humans or by

any of the sixty-odd other races who made up the Galactic Federation, so that

the member races were in the peculiar position of people who had friends in far

countries but had no idea who was living in the next street. The reason for this

was that travelers tended to meet each other more often than the people who

stayed at home, especially when the travelers exchanged addresses and visited

each other regularly.

Visiting was comparatively easy. Providing there were no major distorting

influences on the way and the exact coordinates of the destination were known,

it was almost as easy to travel through hyperspace to a neighboring solar system

as to one at the other side of the galaxy. But first one had to find a system

containing a planet with intelligent life before its coordinates could be

logged, and finding new inhabited systems was proving to be no easy task.

Very, very slowly a few of the blank areas in the star maps were being surveyed

and explored, but with little success. When

:

survey scoutship like Tyrell turned up a star with planets it was a rare find,

even rarer if one of the planets harbored life. And if one of these life-forms

was intelligent then jubilation, not unmixed with concern over what might

possibly be a future threat to the Pax Galactica, swept the worlds of the

Federation, and the cultural contact specialists of the Monitor Corps were

assigned the tricky, time-consuming, and often dangerous job of establishing

contact in depth.

The cultural contact people were the elite of the Monitor Corps, a small group

of specialists in extraterrestrial communications, philosophy, and psychology.

Although small, the group was not, regrettably, overworked.

"During the past twenty years," Conway went on, "they have initiated

first-contact procedure on three occasions, all of which were successful and

resulted in the species concerned joining the Federation. There is no need to

bore you with such details as the fantastically large number of survey missions

mounted, the ships, personnel, and material involved, or shock you with the cost

of it all. I mention the cultural contact group's three successes simply to make

the point that within the same period Sector Twelve General Hospital, our first

multienviron-ment medical treatment center, became fully operational and

initiated first contacts which resulted in seven new species joining the

Federation.

"This was accomplished," he explained, "not by a slow, patient buildup and

widening of communications until the exchange of complex philosophical and

sociological concepts became possible, but by giving medical assistance to a

sick alien."

This was something of an oversimplification, Conway admitted. There were the

medical and surgical problems inherent in treating a hitherto unknown life-form.

Sector General's translation computer, the second largest in the Federation,

was available, as was the assistance of the Monitor Corps' hospital-based

communications specialists, and the Corps had been responsible for rescuing and

bringing in many of the extraterrestrial casualties in the first place. But the

fact remained that the hospital, by giving medical assistance, demonstrated the

Federation's goodwill toward e-ts much more simply and directly than could have

been done by any time-consuming exchange of concepts.

Because all Federation ships were required to file course and passenger or crew

details before departure, the position of a distress signal was usually a good

indication of the ship and therefore the physiological classification of the

beings who had run into trouble, and an ambulance ship with matching crew and

life-support equipment was sent from Sector General or from the ship's home

planet to assist it. But there had been instances, far more than was generally

realized, when the disasters involved beings unknown to the Federation in

urgent need of help, help which the would-be rescuers were powerless to give.

Only when the rescue ship concerned had the capability of extending its

hyperspace envelope to include the distressed vessel, or the survivors could be

extricated safely and a suitable environment provided for them within the

Federation ship, could they be transported to Sector General for treatment. The

result was that many hitherto unknown life-forms, entities of high intelligence

and advanced technology, were lost except as interesting specimens for

dissection and study.

But an answer to this problem had been sought and, hopefully, found.

"It was decided to build and equip a very special ambulance ship," Conway

continued, "which would give priority to answering distress signals whose

positions did not agree with the flight plans filed by Federation vessels. The

First Contact people consider Rhabwar to be the near-perfect answer in that we

involve ourselves only with star^traveling species, beings who are expecting to

encounter new and to them alien life-forms and who, should they get into

trouble, would not be expected to display serious xenophobic reactions when we

try to help them. Another reason why the cultural contact people prefer meeting

star travelers to planetbound species is that they can never be sure whether

they are helping or hindering the newly discovered culture's natural

development, giving them a technological leg up or a crushing inferiority

complex.

"Anyway," Conway said, smiling as he pointed at Nelson's main display where the

newly arrived scoutships covered the screen, "now you know that it is Rhabwar

which has the rank and not any member of its crew."

Nelson was looking only slightly less impressed, but before

he could speak the voices of two scoutship commanders reporting to Rhabwar

sounded in quick succession. Both vessels had emerged from hyperspace close to

sections of alien space station and were already returning to the rendezvous

point with them in tow on long-focus tractor beams. In both cases the sections

gave sensor indications of life on board.

"The news isn't all good, however," Nelson said, pointing at his main display

where an enlarged picture of the section toward which they were heading filled

the screen. "That one has taken a beating and I don't see how the occupant could

have survived."

Conway nodded, and as the wrecked section turned slowly to present an end view,

Murchison added, "Obviously it didn't."

The, alien cylinder had been dented and punctured by multiple collisions with

some of the structural members which had furnished the supporting framework of

the original space station and which was still drifting nearby. Amid the loose

tangle of debris was one of the section's circular endplates, and from the open

end of .the compartment the body of its occupant protruded like an enormous,

dessicated caterpillar.

"Can you relay ihis picture to RhabwarT Conway asked.

"If I can get a word in edgewise," Nelson replied, glancing at his speaker,

which was carrying a continuous, muted conversation between, Fletcher and the

scoutships.

Murchison had been staring intently at the screen. She said suddenly, "It would

be a waste of time examining that cadaver out here. Can you put a tractor on it,

Captain, and take us back to RhabwarT

"We'll need to bring back the wreck for study as well," Conway said. "The

life-support and suspended animation systems will give us important information

on the being's physiology and—"

"Excuse me, Doctor," Nelson said. For several seconds the voices from Rhabwar

and the scoutships had been silent and the Captain had seized the chance to send

a message of his own. He went on, "Tyrell here. Will you accept a visual relay,

Rhabwarl Doctor Conway thinks it's important."

"Go ahead, Tyrell" Fletcher's voice said. "All other traffic wait out."

There was a long silence while Rhabwar's Captain studied

ii I C

the image of the slowly rotating wreck and the attached cadaver, long enough

,for it to make three complete revolutions, then Fletcher spoke. The tone and

words were so uncharacteristic that they scarcely recognized his voice. "I'm a

fool, a stupid damned fool for not seeing it!"

It was Murchison who asked the obvious question. "For not seeing how that

endplate opened," Fletcher replied. He made several more self-derogatory remarks

in an undertone, then went on, "It drops out, or there is probably a

spring-loaded actuator which pushes it out through the slot which you can see

behind the coupling collar. No doubt there is an internal air pressure sensor

linked to the actuator to keep the endplate from popping out accidentally when

the section is in space or the adjoining section is airless. Do you intend

returning with this section and not just the cadaver?"

The tone of the question suggested that if such was not the Doctor's intention,

then forceful arguments would be forthcoming to make him change his mind.

"As quickly as possible," Conway said dryly. "Pathologist Murchison is just as

keen to look inside that alien as you are to look inside its ship. Please ask

Naydrad to stand by the Casualty Lock."

"Will do," Fletcher said. He paused for a moment, then went on seriously, "You

realize, Doctor, that the manner in which these cylinders open means that their

occupants were sealed into their suspended animation compartments while in

atmosphere, almost certainly on their home planet, and the cylinders were not

meant to be opened until their arrival on the target world. These people are

members of a-sublight colonization attempt."

"Yes," Conway said absently. He was thinking about the probable reaction of the

hospital to receiving a bunch of outsize, hibernating e-ts who were not,

strictly speaking, patients but the survivors of a failed colonization flight.

Sector General was a hospital, not a refugee camp. It would insist, and rightly,

that the colonists be transferred either to their planet of origin or

destination. Since the surviving colonists were in no immediate danger there

might be no need to involve the hospital at all — or the ambulance ship — except

in an advisory capacity. He added, "We are going to need more help."

"Yes," Fletcher said with great feeling. It was obvious that his thinking had

been parallelling Conway's. "Rhabwar out."

By the time Tyrell had returned to the assembly area, it was beginning to look

congested. Twenty-eight hibernation compartments—all of which, according to

Prilicla, contained living e-ts—hung in the darkness like a gigantic,

three-dimensional picture showing the agglutinization of a strain of rod-shaped

bacilli. Each section had been numbered for later identification and

examination. There were no other scoutships in the area because they were busy

retrieving more cylinders.

Even with the Casualty Deck's artificial gravity switched off and tractor beams

aiding the transfer, it took Murchison, Naydrad, and Conway more than an hour to

extricate the cadaver from its wrecked compartment and bring it into Rhabwar.

Once inside it flowed over the examination table on each side and on to

intrument trolleys, beds, and whatever else could be found around the room to

support its massive, coiling body.

Fletcher paid them a visit some hours later to see the cadaver at close range,

but he had chosen a moment when Murchison's investigation was moving from the

visual examination to the dissection stage and his stay was brief. As he was

leaving he said, "When you can be spared here, Doctor, would you mind coming up

to Control?"

Conway nodded without looking up from his scanner examination of one of the

alien's breathing orifices and its tracheal connection. The Captain had left

when he straightened up a few minutes later and said, "I just can't make head or

tail of this thing."

"That is understandable, Doctor," Naydrad said, who belonged to a very

literal-minded species. "The being appears to have neither."

Murchison looked up from her microscopic examination of a length of nerve

ganglia and rubbed her eyes. She said, "Naydrad is quite right. Both head and

tail sections are absent and may have been surgically removed, although I cannot

be certain of that even though there are indications of minor surgery having

taken place at one extremity. All that we know for sure is that it is a

warm-blooded oxygen breather and probably an adult. I say 'probably' despite the

fact that the creature in the first cylinder was relatively more massive.

Genetic factors gen-

vvni i c

erally make for size differences among the adults of most species, so I cannot

assume that it is an adolescent or younger. Of one thing I am sure—Thornnastor

is going to enjoy itself with this one."

"So are you," Conway said.

She smiled tiredly and went on, "I don't wish to give the impression that you

are not helping, Doctor. You are. But I had the distinct feeling back there that

the Captain was just being polite, and he wants to see you very urgently."

Prilicla, who had been resting on the ceiling between trips outside to monitor

the emotional radiation of newly arrived survivors, made trilling and clicking

noises which translated as "For a nonempath, friend Murchison, your feeling was

re^ markably accurate."

When Conway entered Control a few mintues later, both captains were present and

they looked relieved to see him. It was Nelson who spoke first.

"Doctor," he said quickly, "I think this rescue mission is getting out of hand.

So far thirty-eight contacts have been made and the sensors report the presence

of life on all but two of them, and more cylinders are being reported every few

minutes. They are all uniform in size and the present indications are that there

are many more sections out there than would be necessary to complete one Wheel."

"If, for technical or physiological reasons, the alien vessel had to have the

configuration of a Wheel," Conway said thoughtfully, "then it could have been

built, as were some of our early space stations, in a series of concentric

circles, as wheels within wheels."

Nelson shook his head. "The longitudinal curvature on all sections is identical.

Could there have been two Wheels, separate but identical vessels, which were in

collision?"

"I disagree with the collision theory," Fletcher said, joining in for the first

time. "At least between two or more Wheels. There are far too many survivors and

undamaged sections for that. Their vessel seems to have fallen apart. I think

there was a high-velocity collision with a natural body, the shock of which

shook the hub and central support structure apart."

Conway was trying to visualize the finished shape of this

alien jigsaw puzzle. He said, "But you still think there was more than one

Wheel?"

"Not exactly," Fletcher replied. "Two of them mounted side by side, with a

different alien or set of aliens in each. Right now we don't know whether we are

retrieving single aliens who have been surgically modified for travel or pieces

of much larger creatures, and we won't know how many we are dealing with until

the scoutships begin bringing back heads and tails. I'm assuming that all of the

occupants were in suspended animation and their ship ran itself, accelerating

or decelerating along its vertical axis. If I'm right then the hub wreckage

should contain the remains of just one propulsion unit and one section which

contained the automatic navigation and sensor equipment."

Conway nodded. "A neat theory, Captain. Is it possible to prove it?"

Fletcher smiled and said, "All of the pieces are out there, even though some of

them will be smashed into their component parts and difficult to identify, but

given time and the necessary assistance we could fit them together."

"You mean reconstruct it?"

"Perhaps," Fletcher replied in an oddly neutral tone. "But is it really any of

our business?"

Conway opened his mouth, intending to tell the other exactly what he thought of

a damn fool question like that, then closed it again when he saw the expressions

on both captains' faces.

For the truth was that the situation which was developing here was no longer any

of their business. Rhabwar was an ambulance ship, designed and provisioned for

short-duration missions aimed at the rescue, emergency treatment, and transfer

to the hospital of survivors of accident or disease in space. But these

survivors did not require treatment or fast transport to the hospital. They had

been in suspended animation for a long time and would be capable of remaining in

that condition without harm for a long time to come. Reviving them and, more

important, relocating them on a suitable planet would be a major project.

The sensible thing for Conway to do would be to bow out gracefully and dump the

problem in the laps of the cultural

I HO

jmivico vvni i

contact specialists. Rhabwar could then return to its dock and the medical team

could go back to treating the weird and wonderful variety of patients who

turned up at Sector General while they waited for the next distress call for

their special ambulance ship.

But the two men watching him so intently were a scoutship commander on survey

duty, who would be lucky if he turned up one inhabited system in ten years of

searching, and Major Fletcher, Rhabwar's Captain and a recognized authority in

the field of extraterrestrial comparative technology—and the rescue of this e-t

sublight colonization transport could well be the biggest problem to face the

Federation since the discovery and treatment of the continent-girdling strata

creature of Drambo/

Conway looked from Nelson to Fletcher, then said quietly, "You're right,

Captain, this isn't our responsibility. It is Cultural Contact's problem, and

they would not think any the less of us, in fact they would expect us to hand it

over to them. But I get the impression that you don't want me to do that."

Fletcher shook his head firmly and Nelson said, "Doctor, if you have any friends

in authority, tell them I would willingly give an arm or a leg to be allowed to

stay on this one."

A cool, logical portion of Conway's mind was urging him to do the sensible

thing, to think about what he was letting himself in for and to remember who

would be blamed if things went wrong, but it never had any hope of winning that

argument.

"Good," Conway said, "that makes it unanimous."

They were both grinning at him in a manner totally unbefitting their rank and

responsibilities, as if he had bestowed some great favor instead of condemning

them to months of unremitting mental and physical hard labor. He went on, "As

the ship responsible for making the original find, Tyrell would be justified in

remaining, and as the medical team in attendance, the same applies to Rhabwar.

But we are going to need a lot of help, and if we are to have any hope of

getting it you will have to give me detailed information on every aspect of this

problem, not just the medical side, and answers to the questions which are going

to be asked.

"To begin with, I shall need to know a great deal more about the physiology of

the survivors, and you will have to

bt«J I UM UtlNtHAL

llf

find me a couple of additional cadavers for Thornnastor, the hospital's

Diagnostician-in-Charge of Pathology. It has six feet and weighs half a ton and

if Murchison and I don't come up with some sensible conclusions about this

life-form, and specimens for Thorny to investigate independently, it will walk

all over me. And what O'Mara and Skempton will do—"

'They're public servants, Doctor," Nelson said, grinning. "You have the rank."

Conway got to his feet and said very seriously, "This is not simply a matter of

whistling up another flotilla of scoutships, gentlemen, and something more than

a hyperspace signal will be needed this time. To get the help we need I'll have

to go back to the hospital and argue and plead, and probably thump the table a

bit."

As he entered the gravity-free central well and began pulling himself toward the

Casualty Deck he could hear Fletcher saying, "That wasn't much of an

inducement, Nelson. Most of his highly placed friends have more arms and legs

than they know what to do with."

Leaving Rhabwar and the rest of the medical team at the disaster site, Conway

traveled to Sector General in Tyrell. He had requested an urgent meeting with

the hospital's big three— Skempton, Thornnastor, and O'Mara—as soon as the

scoutship had emerged into normal space. The request had been granted but Chief

Psychologist O'Mara had told him curtly that there would be no point trying to

start the meeting prematurely by worrying out loud over the communication

channel, so Conway had to curb his impatience and try to marshal his arguments

while Sector General slowly grew larger in the forward view-screen.

When Conway arrived in the Chief Psychologist's office, Thornnastor, Skempton,

and O'Mara were already waiting for him. Colonel Skempton, as the ranking

Monitor Corps officer in the hospital, was occupying the only other chair, apart

from O'Mara's own, which was suitable for the use of Earth-humans; Thornnastor,

like the other members of the Tralthan species, did everything including

sleeping on its six, elephantine feet.

The Chief Psychologist waved a hand at the selection of e-t furniture ranged in

front of his desk and said, "Take a seat

vvm 11

if you can do so without injuring yourself, Doctor, and make your report."

Conway arranged himself carefully in a Kelgian relaxer frame and began to

describe briefly the events from the time Rhabwar had arrived in response to

Tyrell's distress beacon. He told of the investigation of the first section of

the fragmented alien vessel which was the product of a race in the early stage

of spaceship technology, possessing sublight drive and gravity furnished by

rotating their ship. Every undamaged section found had contained an e-t in

suspended animation. For this reason additional scoutships had been requested to

help find and retrieve the remaining survivors as a matter of urgency because

the majority of these widely scattered suspended animation' compartments would,

in just under twelve weeks' time, fall into or pass so close to a nearby sun

that the beings inside them would perish.

While Conway was speaking, O'Mara stared at him with eyes which opened into a

mind so perceptive and analytical that it gave the Chief Psychologist what

amounted to a telepathic faculty. Thornnastor's four eyes were focused equally

on Conway and Colonel Skempton, who was staring down at his scratch pad where he

was drawing a circle and going over it repeatedly without lifting his stylus.

Conway found himself watching the pad as well, and abruptly he stopped talking.

Suddenly they were staring at him with all of their eyes, and Skempton said,

"I'm sorry, Doctor, does my doodling distract you?"

"To the contrary, sir," Conway said, smiling, "you have helped a lot."

Ignoring the Colonel's baffled expression, Conway went on, "Our original theory

was that a sublight vessel with the configuration of a rotating wheeltype space

station suffered a catastrophic malfunction or collision which carried away its

hub-mounted propulsion and navigation systems, and jarred the rim structure

apart; the subsequent dispersal of the suspended animation containers was aided

by the centrifugal force which furnished their ship with artificial gravity. But

the number of sections found just before I left the area were more than enough

to form three complete Wheels and, because I have been bothered by the fact

that no head segments have been found so far,

I have decided to discard the Wheel or multiple Wheel theory in favor of the

more simple configuration suggested by the Colonel's sketch of a continuous—"

"Doctor," Thornnastor broke in firmly. As the Diagnosti-cian-in-Charge of

Pathology it had a tendency toward single-mindedness where its specialty was

concerned. "Kindly describe in detail and give me the physiological

classification of this life-form and, of course, your assessment of the number

of casualties we will be required to treat. And are specimens of this life-form

available for study?"

Conway felt his face reddening as he made an admission no Senior Physician on

the staff of Sector General should ever have to make. He said, "We cannot

classify this life-form with complete certainty, sir. But I have brought you two

cadavers in the hope that you may be able to do so. As I have already said, the

survivors are still inside their suspended animation compartments and the

relatively few who did not survive are in a badly damaged condition—in several

pieces, in fact."

Thornnastor made untranslatable noises which probably signified approval, then

it said, "Had they not been in pieces, I would soon have rendered them so. But

the fact that neither Murchison nor yourself are sure of their classification

surprises and intrigues me, Doctor. Surely you are able to form a few tentative

conclusions?"

Conway was suddenly glad that Prilicla was still on board Rhabwar because his

embarrassment would have given the little empath a bad fit of the shakes. He

said, "Yes, sir. The being we examined was a warm-blooded oxygen breather with

the type of basic metabolism associated with that physiological grouping. The

cadaver was massive, measuring approximately twenty meters in length and three

meters in diameter, excluding projecting appendages. Physically it resembles the

DBLF Kelgian life-form, but many times larger and possessing a leathery

tegument rather than the silver fur of the Kelgians. Like the DBLFs it is

multipedal, but the manipulatory appendages are positioned in a single row along

the back.

"There were twenty-one of these dorsal limbs, all showing evidence of early

evolutionary specialization. Six of them were long, heavy, and claw-tipped and

were obviously evolved for defense since the being was a herbivore, and there

were fifteen

in five groups of three spaced between the six heavier tentacles. Each of the

thinner limbs terminated in four digits, two of which were opposable, and were

manipulatory appendages originally evolved for gathering and transferring food

to the mouths, of which there are three on each flank opening into three

stomachs. Two additional orifices on each side open into a very large and

complex lung. The structure inside these breathing orifices suggests that

expelled air could be interrupted and modulated to produce intelligence-bearing

sounds. On the underside were three openings used for the elimination of wastes.

"The mechanism of reproduction was unclear," he continued, "and the specimen

showed evidence of possessing both male and female genitalia on the forward and

rear extremities, respectively. The brain, if it was the brain, took the form of

a cable of nerve ganglia with localized swellings in three places, running

longitudinally through the cadaver like a central core. There was another and

much thinner nerve cable running parallel to the thicker core, but below it and

about twenty-five centimeters from the underside. Positioned close to each

extremity were two sets of three eyes, two of which were mounted dorsally and

two on the forward and rear flanks. They were recessed but capable of limited

extension and together gave the being complete and continuous vision vertically

and horizontally. The type and positioning of the visual equipment and

appendages suggest that it evolved on a very unfriendly world.

"Our tentative classification of the being," Conway ended, "was an incomplete

CRLT."

"Incomplete?" Thornnastor said.

"Yes, sir," Conway said. "The cadaver we examined had sustained minimum damage

since it had died during a slow decompression while in suspended animation. We

could be wrong, but there were signs of some kind of radical surgery having

taken place, a double removal of what may have been the head and tail of the

being. This was not a traumatic amputation caused by the disaster to their

ship, but a deliberate procedure which may have been required to fit the being

into its suspended animation container for the colonization attempt. The body

tegument overall is thick and very tough, but at the extremities the only

protection is a hard, transparent layer of

organic material, and the underlying protrusions, fissures, orifices, and

musculature look raw. This suggests—"

"Conway," O'Mara said sharply, with a glance toward the suddenly paling Colonel.

"With respect to Thornnastor, you have moved too quickly -from the general to

the particular. Please confine yourself at this stage to a simple statement of

the problem and your proposed solution."

Colonel Skempton was the man responsible for making Sector General function as

an organization— but, as he was fond of telling his medical friends when they

started to talk shop in grisly detail, he was a glorified bookkeeper, not a

bloody surgeon! The trouble was that there was no way Conway could state his

problem simply without offending the sensibilities of the overly squeamish

Colonel.

"Simply," Conway said, "the problem is a gigantic, worm-like entity, perhaps

five kilometers or more in length, which has been chopped into many hundreds of

pieces. The indicated treatment is to join the pieces together again, in the

correct order."

The Colonel's stylus stopped in mid-doodle, Thornnastor made a loud,

untranslatable sound, and O'Mara, normally a phlegmatic individual, said with

considerable vehemence, "Conway, you are not considering bringing that—that

Midgard Serpent to the hospital?"

Conway shook his head. "The hospital is much too small to handle it."

"And so," Skempton said, looking up for the first time, "is your ambulance

ship."

Before Conway could reply, Thornnastor said, "I find it difficult to believe

that the entity you describe could survive such radical amputation. However, if

Prilicla and yourself state that the separate sections so far recovered are

alive, then I must accept it. But have you considered the possibility that it is

a group entity, similar to the Telphi life-form which are stupid as individuals

but highly intelligent as a gestalt? Physical fragmentation in those

circumstances would be slightly more credible, Doctor."

"Yes, sir, and we have not yet discarded that possibility—" Conway began.

"Very well, Doctor," O'Mara broke in dryly. "You may restate the problem in less

simple form."

The problem... thought Con way.

He began by asking them to visualize the vast, alien ship as it had been before

the disaster—not the multiple Wheel shape first discussed but a great,

continuous, open coil of constant diameter and similar in configuration to the

shape on the Colonel's pad. The separate turns of the coil had been laced

together by an open latticework of metal beams which held the vessel together as

a rigid unit and provided the structural support needed along the thrust axis

during take-off, acceleration, and landing. Assembled in orbit, the ship had

been approximately five hundred meters in diameter and close on a mile long,

with* its power and propulsion system at one end of an axial support structure

and the automatic guidance system and sensors at the other.

The exact nature of the accident or malfunction was not yet known, but judging

by the observed effects it had been caused by a collision with a large natural

object which, striking the vessel head-on, had taken out the guidance system

forward, the axial structure, and the stern thrusters. The shock of the

collision had shaken the great, rotating coil into its component suspended

animation compartments, and centrifugal force had done the rest.

"This being—or beings—is so physiologically constituted," Conway went on, "that

to assist it we must first rebuild its ship and land it successfully. Fitting

the pieces together again can be done most easily in weightless conditions. The

fact that the twenty-meter sections of the coil have flown apart but retained

their positions with respect to each other will greatly assist the reassembly

operation—"

"Wait, wait," the Colonel said. "I cannot see this operation being possible,

Doctor. For one thing, you will need a very potent computer indeed to work out

the trajectories of those expanding sections accurately enough to return them to

their original positions in this—this jigsaw puzzle—and the equipment needed to

reassemble it would be—"

"Captain Fletcher says it is possible," Conway said firmly-"Piecing together the

remains of an extraterrestria] ship has

bbU IUH UtNtHAL

been done before, and much valuable knowledge was gained in the process.

Admittedly, on previous occasions there were no living survivors to be pieced

together as well and the work was on a much smaller scale."

"Much smaller," O'Mara said dryly. "Captain Fletcher is a theoretician and

Rhabwar is his first operational command. Is he happy ordering three scoutship

flotillas around?"

The Chief Psychologist was considering the problem in the terms of his own

specialty, Conway knew, and as usual O'Mara was a jump ahead of everyone else.

"He seems to enjoy worrying about it," Conway said carefully, "and there are no

overt signs of megalomania."

O'Mara nodded and sat back in his chair.

But the Colonel could jump to correct conclusions as well, if not always as

quickly as the Chief Psychologist. He said, "Surely, O'Mara, you are not

suggesting that Rhabwar direct this operation? It's too damned big, and

expensive. It has to be referred up to—"

"There isn't time for committee decisions," Conway began.

"—the Federation Council," the Colonel finished. "And anyway, did Fletcher tell

you how he proposed fitting this puzzle together?"

Conway nodded. "Yes, sir. It is a matter of basic design philosophy,.." Captain

Fletcher was of the opinion—an opinion shared by the majority of the

Federation's top designers— that any piece of machinery beyond a certain degree

of complexity, be it a simple groundcar or a spaceship one kilometer long,

required an enormous amount of prior design work, planning and tooling long

before the first simple parts and subas-semblies could become three-dimensional

metal on someone^s workbench. The number of detail and assembly drawings,

wiring diagrams, and so on for even a small spaceship was mind-staggering, and

the purpose of all this paperwork was simply to instruct beings of average

intelligence how to manufacture and fit together the pieces of the jigsaw

without knowing, or perhaps even caring, anything about the completed picture.

If normal Earth-human, Tralthan, Illensan, and Melfan practice was observed—and

the engineers of those races and many others insisted that there was no easier

way—then those drawings and the components they described must include

instructions, identifying symbols, to guide the builders in the correct placing

of these parts within the jigsaw.

Possibly there were extraterrestrial species which used more exotic methods of

identifying components before assembly, such as tagging each part with an

olfactory or tactile coding system, but this, considering the tremendous size of

the coil ship and the number of parts to be identified and joined, would

represent a totally unnecessary complication unless there were physiological

reasons for doing things the hard way.

The cadaver had possessed eyes which operated within the normal visible

spectrum, and Captain Fletcher was sure that the alien shipbuilders would do

things the easy way by marking the surface of the components with identifying

symbols which could be read at a glance. Following a detailed examination of a

damaged suspended animation cylinder and the remains of its supporting

framework, Fletcher found that the system of identification used was groups of

symbols vibro-etched into the metal, and that adjoining components bore the same

type and sequence of symbols except for the final letter or number. "Clearly

they think, and put their spaceships together, much the same as we do," Conway

concluded.

"I see," the Colonel said. He sat forward in his chair. "But decoding those

symbols and fitting the parts .together will take a lot of time."

"Or a lot of extra help," Conway said. Skempton sat back, shaking his head.

Thornnastor was silent also, but the slow, impatient thumping of its massive

feet indicated that it was not likely to remain so for long. It was O'Mara who

spoke first.

"What assistance will you need, Doctor?" Conway looked gratefully at the Chief

Psychologist for getting straight to the point as well as for the implied

support. But he knew that O'Mara would withdraw that support without hesitation

if he had the slightest doubt about Conway's ability to handle the problem. If

Conway was to be confirmed in this assignment, he would have to convince O'Mara

that he knew exactly what he was doing. He cleared his throat.

"First," he said, "we should initiate an immediate search for the vessel's home

world so that we can learn as much as possible about this entity's culture,

environment, and food requirements, as well as having somewhere to put it when

the rescue is complete. It is almost certain that the disaster caused a large

deviation in the coilship's course, and it is possible that the vessel suffered

a guidance malfunction not associated with the accident which fragmented it, and

it has already overshot the target world. This would complicate the search and

increase the number of units conducting it."

Before the Colonel could react, Conway went on quickly, "I also need a search of

the Federation Archives. For many centuries before the Federation came into

being there were species who possessed the startravel capability and did a lot

of independent exploration. There is a slight chance that one of them may have

encountered or heard reports of an entity resembling an intelligent Midgard

Serpent—"

He broke off, then for Thornnastor's benefit he explained that the Midgard

Serpent was a creature of Earth-human mythology, an enormous snake which was

supposed to have encircled the planet with its tail in its mouth. Thornnastor

thanked him and expressed its relief that the being was mythological.

"Until now," the Colonel said sourly.

"Second," Conway went on, "comes the problem of rapid retrieval and placement of

the scattered suspended animation cylinders. Many more scoutships will be

required, supported by all of the available specialists in e-t languages and

technical notation systems, and computer facilities capable of analyzing this

material. A large, ship-borne translation computer should be able to handle the

job—"

"That means Descartes'" Skempton protested.

"—In the time remaining to us," Conway resumed, "and I hear Descartes recently

completed its first contact program on Dwerla and is free. But the third and

most technically difficult part of the problem is the reassembly. For this we

need fleet auxiliaries with the engineering facilities and space construction

personnel capable of rapidly rebuilding those parts of the alien vessel's

supporting framework which cannot be salvaged from the wreckage. Ideally the

people concerned should be experienced Tralthan and Hudlar space construction

teams.

"Four," he continued, allowing no time for objections, "we need a ship capable

of coordinating the reassembly operation.

and mounting a large number of tractor and pressor beam batteries with officers

highly trained in their use. This will reduce the risk of collision in the

assembly area between the retrieved sections and our own ships. The coordinating

vessel will have its own computer capable of handling the logistic—"

"Vespasian, he wants," Skempton said dully.

"Yes, its tactical computer would be ideal," Conway replied. "It also has the

necessary tractor and pressor batteries and, I believe, a very large cargo lock

in case I have to withdraw some of the CRLTs from their suspended animation

compartments. Remember, several segments of the entity were destroyed and

surgery may be required in these areas to close the gaps. But until we know a

great deal more about this entity's, physiology and environment I have no clear

idea of the type and quantity of medical assistance which will be needed."

"At last," Thornnastor growled through its translator, "you are about to discuss

the needs of the patient."

"The delay was intentional, sir," Conway said, "since we must repair the ship

before we can help the occupant. Regarding this entity, or entities, Pathologist

Murchison and myself have examined one cadaver and we seek confirmation of our

preliminary findings and as much additional physiological data as you can

provide from the specimens brought back in Tyrell, and from the contents of the

intravenous infusion equipment which is used, apparently, to induce, extend, and

reverse the suspended animation process. Specifically, we require much more

information on the nervous system, the linkages to the voluntary and involuntary

musculature, the degree and rapidity of tissue regeneration we can expect if

surgical intervention is necessary and additional data on the transparent

material which covers and protects the raw areas at the forward and rear

extremities. Naturally, sir, this information is required the day before

yesterday."

"Naturally," Thornnastor growled. Its six elephantine feet, which had been

silent while Conway was speaking, resumed their slow thumping. Clearly-the

Tralthan was eager to go to work on those specimens of the completely new

life-form.

O'Mara waited for precisely three seconds, then he scowled up at Conway and

said, "And that is all you require. Doctor?"

Conway nodded. "For the present."

OCOIU«

Colonel Skempton leaned forward and said caustically, "'For the present he needs

the services of a Sector subfleet, including Descartes and Vespasian. Before we

can recommend the deployment of so many Service units we should refer the

matter to the Federation Council for—" He broke off because the thumping of

Thornnastor's feet was making conversation difficult.

"Your pardon, Colonel," the Tralthan said, "but it seems to me that if we refer

this matter to the Council they will ponder on it at great length and then

decide to make it the responsibility of the beings best able to understand and

solve the problem, who are the entities comprising the technical and medical

crew of Rhabwar. The special ambulance ship program was designed to deal with

the unexpected, and the fact that this problem is unexpectedly large is beside

the point.

"This is an entity, or entities, of a hitherto unknown species," it went on,

"and I recommend that Senior Physician Conway be given the assistance he

requires to rescue and treat it. However, I have no objection to you

recommending this course and referring the matter to the Council for discussion

and ratification, and for amendment should they come up with a better idea.

Well, Colonel?"

Skempton shook his head. He said doggedly, "It's wrong, I know it's wrong, for a

newly appointed ship commander and a medic to be given so much authority. But

the Rhabwar people are the only ones who know what they are doing at the moment.

Reluctantly, I agree. O'Mara?"

All their eyes, the Colonel's and Conway's two and Thorn-nastor's four, were on

the Chief Psychologist, who kept his steadily on Conway. Finally he spoke.

"If you have nothing else to say, Doctor," he said dryly, "I suggest you return

to Rhabwar as quickly as possible before the area becomes so congested that you

can't find your own ship."

The reaction time of the Monitor Corps to an emergency large or small was

impressively fast. In Tyrell's forward view-screen the area resembled a small,

untidy star cluster in which Rhabwar's beacon flashed at its center like a

short-term variable. Apart from acknowledging their arrival and giving them

permission to lock on, Fletcher did not speak to them because, he explained,

fifteen more scoutships had arrived unexpectedly and he was busy fitting them

into his retrieval program. For this reason Conway did not get an opportunity to

tell him about the other unexpected things which were about to happen until he

was back on board the ambulance ship, and by that time it was too late.

"Rkabwar," a voice said from the wall speaker as Conway entered Control, "this

is the survey and cultural contact vessel Descartes, Colonel Okaussie

commanding. I'm told you have work for us, Major Fletcher."

"Well, yes, sir," the Captain said. He looked appealingly at Conway, then went

on, "If 1 might respectfully suggest, sir,, that your translation specialists—"

"I'd rather you didn't," Colonel Okaussie broke in. "Respectfully suggest, I

mean. When I know as much about this situation as you do I'll accept

suggestions, respectful or otherwise. But until then, Major, stop wasting time

and tell me what you want us to do."

"Yes, sir," Fletcher said. Speaking quickly, concisely, and, out of habit,

respectfully, he did just that. Then a few seconds after he broke contact the

radar screen showed a new trace which was even larger than Descartes. It

identified itself as the Hudlar-crewed depot ship Motann, a star-going

engineering complex normally used to bring technical assistance to vessels whose

hyperdrive generators had failed noncatastrophically leaving them stranded in

normal space between the stars. Its captain, who was not a Monitor Corps

officer, was also happy to take his instructions from Fletcher. But then ah even

larger blip appeared on the screen, indicating that a very large ship indeed had

just emerged from hyperspace. Automatically Lieutenant Haslam fed the bearing

to the telescope and tapped for maximum magnification.

The tremendous, awe-inspiring sight of an Emperor-class battlecruiser filled the

screen.

"Rhabwar, this is Vespasian

Fletcher paled visibly at the thought of giving instructions to the godlike

entity who would be in command of that ship, whose communications officer was

relaying the compliments of Fleet Commander Dermod and a request for full vision

contact as soon as convenient. Conway, who had not had time to tell the Captain

what to expect because it was already happening, got to his feet.

"I'll be in the Casualty Deck lab," he said. Grinning, he reached across to clap

Fletcher reassuringly on the shoulder and added, "You're doing fine, Captain.

Just remember that, a long, long time ago, the Fleet Commander was a major,

too."

The conversation between Fletcher and the Fleet Commander, complete with

visuals, was on the Casualty Deck's repeater when he arrived, but the sound was

muted because Prilicla was on another frequency giving instructions to one of

the scoutship medical officers regarding a cadaver the other had found and which

Murchison wanted brought in for examination. Murchison and Naydrad were still

working on the first specimen, which had been reduced to what seemed to be its

component parts.

Murchison nodded toward the repeater screen and said, "You seem to have been

given everything you needed. Was O'Mara in a good mood?'.'

"His usual sarcastic, helpful self," Conway said, moving to join her at the

dissection table. "Do we know anything more about this outsize boa constrictor?"

"I don't know what we know," she said crossly, "but / know a little more and

feel more than a little confused by the knowledge. For instance..."

The thick pencil of nerve ganglia with its localized bunch-ings and swellings

which ran through the center of the cylindrical body was, almost certainly, the

CRLT's equivalent of a brain, and the idea of a missing head or tail was

beginning to seem unlikely—especially since the transparent material which

covered the raw areas fore and aft was, despite its appearance, equally as tough

as the being's leathery body tegument.

She had been successful in tracing the nerve connections between the core

swellings and the eyes, mouths, and manipulatory appendages, and from both ends

of the axial nerve bundle to the puzzling system of muscles which underlay the

raw areas on the forward and rear faces of the creature.

The specimen appeared to be male—at least, the female genitalia at the other end

were shrunken and seemed to be in a condition of early atrophy—and she had

identified the male

sperm generator and the method of transfer to a female.

"... There is evidence of unnatural organ displacement," she went on, "which can

only be caused by weightlessness. Gravity, real or artificial, is a

physiological necessity for this life-form. During hibernation the absence of

weight would not be fatal, but weightlessness while conscious would cause severe

nausea, sensory impairment, and, I feel sure, intense mental and physical

distress."

Which meant that the being would have to be in position on the rim of its

rotating vessel or affected by natural gravity, that of its target world, when

it was revived. It isn't a doctor this patient needed, Con way thought wryly,

it's a miracle worker!

"With the Captain's help," Murchison continued, "we have established that the

medication which produces and or extends the hibernation anesthesia occupies the

larger volume of a dispenser mechanism which also contains a smaller quantity

of the complex organic secretion which can only be the reviver. Fletcher also

traced the input to the automatic sensor and actuator which switches the

mechanism from the hibernation to the resuscitation mode and found that it

reacted to the combined presence of gravity and external pressure. The same

actuator mechanism is also responsible for ejecting the endplates of its

hibernation compartment which would enable the CRLT to disembark.

"Sooner or later we're going to have to revive one of these things," she ended

worriedly, "and we'll have to be very sure that we know what we are doing."

Conway was already out of his spacesuit and climbing into his surgical

coveralls. He said, "Anything in particular you'd like me to do?"

They worked on the cadaver while the hours flickered past on the time display to

become days, then weeks. From time to time a terse, subspace message from

Thornnastor would arrive confirming their findings or suggesting new avenues of

investigation, but even so it seemed that their rate of progress was slow to

nonexistent.

Occasionally they would look up at the Control Room repeater, but with

decreasing frequency. Fletcher, a Hudlar space

construction specialist, and variously qualified Monitor Corps officers were

usually showing each other pieces of twisted metal via their vision channels,

comparing identification symbols and talking endlessly about them. No doubt it

was all vitally important stuff, but it made boring listening. Besides, they

had their own organic jigsaw puzzle to worry about.

A pleasant break in the routine would occur when they had to go outside to look

at one of the other cadavers which had been brought in and attached to the outer

hull, there being room for only one CRLT at a time inside Rhabwar. On these

occasions the investigations were conducted in airless conditions and only the

organic material which was of special interest to them was excised for later

study. As a result they found a bewildering variety of age and sex combinations

which seemed to indicate that the older CRLTs were well-developed males whose

raw areas at each extremity had a brownish coloration, while the younger beings

were clearly female and the areas concerned were a livid pink under the

transparent covering.

Once there was a break in the investigative routine which was not pleasant.' For

several hours they had been studying a flaccid, purplish lump of something which

might have been the organic trigger for the being's hibernation phase, and

making very little progress with it, when Prilicla broke into their angry,

impatient silence.

"Friend Murchison," the empath said, "is feeling tired."

"I'm not," the pathologist said, with a yawn which threatened to dislocate her

firm but beautifully formed lower mandible. "At least, I wasn't until you

reminded me."

"As are you, friend Conway—" Prilicla began, when there was an interruption. The

furry features of Surgeon-Lieutenant Krach-Yul replaced the pieces of alien

hardware which had been filling the repeater screen.

"Doctor Conway," the Orligian medic said, "I have to report an accident. Two

Earth-human DBDGs, simple fractures, no decompression damage—"

"Very well," said Conway, clenching his teeth on a yawn. "Now's your chance to

get in some more other-species surgical experience."

"—And a Hudlar engineer, physiological classification FROB," Krach-Yul went on.

"It has sustained a deep, incised,

and lacerated wound which has been quickly but inadequately treated by the being

itself. There has been a considerable loss of body fluid and associated internal

pressure, diminished sen-soria, and—"

"Coming," Conway said. To Murchison he muttered, "Don't wait up for me."

While Tyrell was taking him to the scene of the accident, an area where three of

the coilship sections were being fitted together, Conway reviewed his

necessarily scant surgical experience with the Hudlar life-form.

They were a species who rarely took sick, and then only during preadolescence,

and they were fantastically resistant to physical injury, with eyes which were

protected by a hardv transparent membrane, tegument like flexible armor, and no

body orifices except for the temporary ones opened for mating and birth.

The FROBs were ideally suited to space construction projects. Their home

planet, Hudlar, pulled four Earth gravities, and its atmospheric pressure—if

that dense, soupy mixture of oxygen, inerts, and masses of microscopic animal

and vegetable nutrient in suspension could be called an atmosphere— was seven

times Earth-normal. At home they absorbed the food-laden air through their

incredibly tough yet porous skin, while offplanet they sprayed themselves

regularly and frequently with nutrient paint. Their six flexible and immensely

strong limbs terminated in four-digited hands which, when the fingers were

curled inward and the knuckles presented to the ground, served also as feet.

Environmentally, the Hudlars were a very adaptable species, because the

physiological features which protected them against their own planet's crushing

gravity and pressure also enabled them to work comfortably in any noncorrosive

atmosphere of lesser pressure right down to and including the vacuum of space.

The only item of equipment a Hudlar space construction engineer needed, apart

from its tools, was a communicator which took the form of a small, air-filled

blister enclosing its speaking membrane and a two-way radio.

Conway had not bothered to ask if there was an FROB medic on the Hudlar ship.

Curative surgery had been a completely alien concept to that virtually

indestructible species until

they had joined the Federation and learned about places like Sector General, so

that medically trained Hudlars were about as rare outside the hospital as

physically injured ones inside it.

Captain Nelson placed Tyrell within fifty meters of the scene of the accident.

Conway headed for the injured Hudlar. Krach-Yul had already reached the

Earth-human casualties, one of whom was blaming himself loudly and unprintably

for causing the accident and tying up the suit frequency in the process.

Conway gathered that the two Earth-humans had been saved from certain death by

being crushed between two slowly closing ship sections by the Hudlar interposing

its enormously strong body, which would have escaped without injury if the

jagged-edged stump of an external bracing member had not snagged one of the

FROB's limbs close to the point where it joined the body.

When Conway arrived, the Hudlar was gripping the injured limb with three of its

hands, tourniquet fashion, while the two free hands remaining were trying to

hold the edges of the wound together—unsuccessfully.' Tiny, misshapen globules

of blood were forming between its fingers to drift weightlessly away, steaming

furiously. It could not talk because its air bag had been lost, leaving its

speaking membranes to vibrate silently in the vacuum.

Conway withdrew a limb sleeve-piece, the largest size he carried, from his

Hudlar medical kit and motioned for the casualty to bare the wound.

He could see that it was a deep wound by the way the dark red bubbles grew

suddenly larger before they broke away, but he was able to snap the sleeve-piece

in position before too much blood was lost. Even so there was a considerable

leakage around both ends of the sleeve as the Hudlar's high internal pressure

tried to empty it of body fluids. Conway quickly attached circlips at each end

of the sleeve and began to tighten one while the Hudlar itself tightened the

other. Gradually the fluid loss slowed and then ceased, the casualty's hands

drifted away from the injured limb, and its speaking membrane ceased its silent

vibrating. The Hudlar had lost consciousness.

Ten minutes later the Hudlar was inside Tyrell's cargo lock and Conway was using

his scanner to search for internal damage caused by the traumatic decompression.

The longer he looked

the less he liked what he saw, and as he was concluding the examination

Krach-Yul joined him.

"The Earth-humans are simple fracture cases, Doctor," the Orligian reported.

"Before setting the bones I wondered if you, as a member of their own species,

would prefer to—"

"And rob you of the chance to increase your other-species experience?" Conway

broke in. "No, Doctor, you treat them. They're on antipain, I take it, and there

is no great degree of urgency?"

"Yes, Doctor," Krach-Yul said.

"Good," Conway said, "because I have another job for you— looking after this

Hudlar Until you can move it to Sector General. You will need a nutrient

sprayer from the Hudlar ship, then arrange with Captain Nelson to increase the

air pressure' and artificial gravity in this cargo lock to levels as close to

Hudlar-normal as he can manage. Treatment will consist of spraying the casualty

with nutrient at hourly intervals and checking on the cardiac activity, and

periodically easing the tightness of the sleeve-piece if your scanner indicates

a serious reduction of circulation to the injured limb. While you are doing

these things you will wear two gravity neutralizers. If you were wearing one and

it failed under four-G conditions there would be another seriously injured

casualty, you.

"Normally I would travel with this patient," he went on, stifling a yawn, "but I

have to be available in case something urgent develops with the CRLT. Hudlar

surgery can be tricky so I'll tape some notes on this one for the operating

team, including the suggestion that you be allowed to observe if you wish to do

so."

"Very much," Krach-Yul said, "and thank you, Doctor."

"And now I'll leave you with your patients and return to Rhabwar" Conway said.

Silently he added, to sleep.

"Tyrell was absent for eight days and was subsequently assigned to courier duty,

taking specimens to Sector General and returning with information, advice, and

detailed lists of questions regarding the progress of their work from

Thomnas-tor. The great, spiral jigsaw puzzle which was the alien ship was

beginning to take shape—or more accurately, to take a large number of

semicircular and quarter-circular shapes—as the hibernation cylinders were

identified, positioned, and cou-

pled. Many of the cylinders were still missing because they had been so

seriously damaged that their occupants had died or they had still to be found

and retrieved by the scoutships.

Conway was worried because the incomplete coilship and the motley fleet of

Monitor Corps vessels and auxiliaries were on a collision course with the nearby

sun, which was growing perceptibly brighter every day. It was clearly evident

that the growth rate of the alien vessel was much less perceptible. When he

worried about it aloud to the Fleet Commander, Dermod told him politely to mind

his own medical business.

Then a few days later Tyrell returned with information which made it very much

his medical business.

Vespasian's communications officer, who was usually a master of the diplomatic

delaying tactic, put him through to the Fleet Commander in a matter of seconds

instead of forcing him to climb slowly up the ship's entire chain of command.

This was not due to any sudden increase in Conway's standing with the senior

Monitor Corps officer, but simply that while Conway was trying to reach Dermod,

the Fleet Commander was trying to contact the Doctor.

It was Dermod who spoke first, with the slight artificiality of tone which told

Conway that not only was the other in a hurry and under pressure but that there

were other people present beyond the range of the vision pickup. He said,

"Doctor, there is a serious problem regarding the final assembly phase and I

need your help. You are already concerned over the limited time remaining to us

and, frankly, I was unwilling to discuss the problem with you until I was able

to present it, and the solution, in its entirety. This can now be done, in

reverse order, preferably. My immediate requirement is for another capital ship.

Claudius is available and—"

"Why—" Conway began, shaking his head in momentary confusion. He had been about

to list his own problems and requirements and found himself suddenly on the

receiving end.

"Very well, Doctor, I'll state the problem first," The Fleet Commander said,

frowning as he nodded to someone out of sight. The screen blanked for a few

seconds, then it displayed a black field on which there was a thick, vertical

gray line. At the lower end of the line a fat red box appeared and on the

opposite end a blue circle. Dermod went on briskly, "We now

have a pretty accurate idea of the configuration of the alien ship, and I am

showing you a very simple representation because 1 haven't time to do otherwise

right now.

"The ship had a central stem, the gray line," Dermod explained, "with the power

plant and thrusters represented by the red box aft and the forward-mounted

sensors and navigation systems shown as a blue circle. Since the ship's occupant

was unconscious, all of these systems were fully automatic. The stem also

provided the anchoring points for the structure which supported the inhabited

coil. You will see that the main supports are angled forward to compensate for

stresses encountered while the vessel was under power and during the landing

maneuver."

A forest of branches grew suddenly from the stem, making it look like a squat,

cylindrical Christmas tree standing in its * red tub and with a bright-blue

fairy light at the top. Then the continuous spiral of linked hibernation

compartments was attached to the ends of the branches, followed by the spacing

members which separated each loop of the coil, and the picture lost all

resemblance to a tree.

"The coil diameter remains constant throughout at just under five hundred

meters," the Fleet Commander's voice continued. "Originally there were twelve

turns of the coil and, with each hibernation cylinder measuring twenty meters in

length, this means there were roughly eighty hibernating CRLTs in every loop of

the coil and close on one thousand of the beings on the complete ship.

"Every loop of the coil was separated by a distance of seventy meters, so that

the total height of the coilship was just over eight hundred meters. We were

puzzled by this separation since it would have been structurally much simpler

laying one on top of the other, but we now believe that the open coil

configuration was designed both to reduce and localize meteorite collision

damage and remove the majority of the hibernation compartments as far as

possible from radiation leakage from the reactor at the stern. While encased in

its rather unusual vessel we think the creature traveled tail-first so that its

thinking end was at the stern to initiate disembarkation following the landing.

Unfortunately, the stern section had to be heavier and more rigid than the

forward structure since it had to support the weight of the vessel during

deceleration and landing, and

so it was the stern which sustained most of the damage when the collision

occurred, and most of the CRLT casualties were from the sternmost loop of the

coil."

According to Vespasian's computer's reconstruction, the vessel had been in

direct head-on collision with a large meteor, and the closing velocities

involved had been such that the whole central stem had been obliterated, as if

an old-time projectile hand weapon had been used to remove the core of an apple.

Only a few scraps of debris from the power unit and guidance system

remained—enough for identification purposes but not for reconstruction—and the

shock of the collision had shaken the overall coil structure apart.

On the screen the widely scattered hibernation compartments came together again

into a not quite complete coil: There were several sections missing,

particularly near the stern. Then the stem, its power and guidance systems, and

the entire support structure disappeared from the display leaving only the

incomplete coil.

"The central core of that vessel is a mass of pulverized wreckage many

light-years away," Dermod continued briskly, "and we have decided that trying to

salvage and reconstruct it would be an unnecessary waste of time and materiel

when there is a simpler solution available. This requires the presence of a

second Emperor-class vessel to—"

"But why do you want—?" Conway began.

"I am in the process of explaining why, Doctor," the Fleet Commander said

sharply. The image on the screen changed again and he went on, "The two capital

ships and Descartes will take up positions in close line-astern formation and

lock onto each other with matched tractor and pressor beams. In effect this will

convert the three ships into a single, rigid structure which will replace the

alien vessel's central stem, and the branching members which supported the coil

will also be non-material but equally rigid tractors and pressors.

"In the landing configuration Vespasian will be bottom of the heap," Dermod

continued, with a tinge of pride creeping into his voice. "Our thrusters are

capable of supporting the other two ships and the alien coilship during

deceleration and landing, with Claudius and Descartes furnishing lateral

stability and taking some of the load with surface-directed pressors.

After touchdown, the power reserves of all three vessels will be sufficient to

hold everything together for at least twelve hours, which should be long enough,

I hope, for the alien to leave its ship. If we can find somewhere to put it,

that is."

The image flicked off to be replaced by the face of the Fleet Commander. "So you

see, Doctor, I need Claudius to complete this—this partly nonmaterial structure

and to test its practicability in weightless conditions before working out the

stresses it will have to undergo during the landing maneuver. Of equal urgency

are the calculations needed to extend the combined hyperspace envelope of the

three ships to enclose the coil and Jump with it out of here before this damn

sun gets too close."

Conway was silent for a moment, inwardly cringing at the thought of some of the

things which could go catastrophically wrong when three linked ships performed a

simultaneous Jump. But he could not voice his concern because ship maneuvers

were most decidedly the Fleet Commander's and not the Doctor's business, and

Dermod would tell him so with justification. Besides, Conway had his own

problems and right now he needed help with them.

"Sir" he said awkwardly, "your proposed solution is ingenious, and thank you

for the explanation. But my original question was not regarding the reason why

you wanted Claudius, but why you needed my help in the matter."

For a moment the Fleet Commander stared at him blankly, then his expression

softened as he said, "My apologies, Doctor, if I seemed a trifle impatient with

you. The position is this. Under the new Federation Council directive covering

extraterrestrial rescue operations by Rhabwar, I am required in a large-scale

combined medical and military operation of this kind to obtain your approval for

additional personnel and materiel, specifically another capital ship. I assume

it is forthcoming?"

"Of course," Conway said.

Dermod nodded pleasantly despite his obvious embarrassment, but the lines of

impatience were beginning to gather again around his mouth as he said, "It will

be sufficient if you tape a few words as the physician-in-charge of the case to

the effect that Claudius is urgently required to ensure the present safety and

continued well-being of your patient. But you were calling me, Doctor. Can I

help you?"

"Yes, sir," Conway said, and went on quickly, "You have been concentrating on

joining the coilship sections in proper sequence. Now I have to begin putting

the patient together, with special emphasis on the joining of segments which are

not in sequence. That is, the ones which were separated by the hibernation

compartments whose occupants died. We are now sure that the being is a group

entity whose individual members are independently intelligent and may be capable

of linking up naturally to their adjoining group members when the conditions are

right. This is the theory, sir, but it requires experimental verification.

"The entities who are out of sequence could pose serious problems," Conway

concluded. "They will have to be removed from their hibernation compartments and

presented to each other so that I may determine the extent of the surgical work

involved in reassembling the group entity."

"Sooner you than me, Doctor," Dermod said with a brief grimace of sympathy. "But

what exactly do you need?"

He is like O'Mara, Conway thought, impatient with confused thinking. He said,

"I need two small ships to bring in the CRLT segments I shall specify and to

return them to their places in the coil. Also a large cargo hold which can

accommodate two of the hibernation cylinders joined end to end and the two

beings which will be withdrawn from them. The hold is to be fitted with

artificial gravity grids and nonmaterial restraints in case the conscious CRLTs

become confused and aggressive, and personnel to operate this equipment. I know

this will mean using the cargo lock and hold in one of the largest ships, but I

require only the hold; the vessel can go about its assigned duties."

"Thank you," the Fleet Commander said dryly, then paused while someone offscreen

spoke quietly to him. He went on, "You may use the forward hold in Descartes,

which will also provide the personnel and its two planetary landers for fetching

and carrying your CRLTs. Is there anything else?"

Conway shook his head. "Only an item of news, sir. The Federation archivists

think they have found the CRLTs home planet, although it is no longer habitable

due to major orbital changes and associated large-scale seismic disturbances.

The Department of Colonization has a new home for them in mind

and will give us the coordinates as soon as they are absolutely sure that the

environment and the CRLTs physiological classification are compatible. So we

have somewhere to take Humpty-Dumpty when we've put it together again.

"However," Conway ended very seriously, "all the indications are that this was

not simply a colony ship which ran into trouble, but a planetary lifeboat

carrying the last surviving members of the race."

Conway stared anxiously around the enormous interior of Descartes's forward hold

and thought that if he had known there were going to be so many sightseers he

would have asked for a much larger operating theater. Fortunately one-of them

was the ship's commanding officer, Colonel Okaussie, who kept the others from

getting in the way and ensured that the area of deck containing the two joined

hibernation cylinders was clear except for Murchison, Naydrad, Prilicla,

Fletcher, and Okaussie himself. Conway was sure of one thing: Whether the

initial CRLT link-up attempt was a success or a failure, there would be no

chance at all of keeping the result a secret.

He wet his lips and said quietly, "Uncouple the cylinders and move the joined

faces three meters apart. Bring the artificial gravity up to Earth-normal,

slowly, and the atmosphere to normal pressure and composition for the life-form.

You have the figures."

The fabric of his lightweight spacesuit began to settle against Conway's body

and there was mounting pressure against the soles of his feet as he watched the

facing ends of the two cylinders. Then abruptly the circular endplates jumped

out of their slots to clank onto the deck and come to rest like enormous,

spinning coins. The hibernation cylinders were now open at both ends, enabling

the two CRLTs to move toward or away from each other, or from one compartment to

the next.

"Neat!" Fletcher said. "When the coilship is spinning in its space-traveling

mode, centrifugal force holds the being against the outboard surface of the

cylinder, and when the spin ceases in the presence of real gravity and an

atmosphere the airtight seals drop away, the individual compartments are opened

to all of the others and the beastie, the complete group entity, that is, exits

by working down the stern-facing wall until all

of it reaches the surface. The gravity and pressure sensors are linked to the

medication reservoirs, Doctor, so you have just reproduced the conditions for

resuscitation following a planetary landing."

Conway nodded. He said, "Prilicla, can you detect anything?"

"Not yet, friend Conway."

They moved closer so as to be able to look into the two opened cylinders,

dividing their attention between the occupants who were lying flaccidly with

their dorsal manipulators hanging limply along their sides. Then one of the

enormous, tubular bodies began to quiver, and suddenly they were both moving

ponderously toward each other.

"Move back," Conway said. "Prilicla?"

"Consciousness is returning, friend Conway," the empath replied, trembling with

its own as well as everyone else's excitement. "But slowly; the movements are

instinctive, involuntary."1

As the forward extremity of one CRLT approached the rear of the other, the

organic film which protected the raw areas on each creature softened, liquefied,

and trickled away. At the center of the forward face a blunt, conical shape

began to form surrounded by systems of muscles which twitched themselves into

mounds and hollows and deep, irregular fissures. The rear face of the other CRLT

had grown its own series of hollows and orifices which exactly corresponded with

the protuberances of the other, as well as four large, triangular flaps which

opened out like the fleshy petals of an alien flower. Then all at once there was

just one double-length creature with a join which was virtually invisible.

And I was worried about joining them together, Conway thought incredulously. The

problem might be to keep them apart!

"Are we observing a physical coupling for the purpose of reproduction?"

Murchison said to nobody in particular.

"Friend Murchison," Prilicla said, "the emotional radiation of both creatures

suggests that this is not a conscious or involuntary sex act. A closer analogy

would be that of an infant seeking the physical reassurance of its parent.

However, both beings are seeking physical and mental reassurance, and have

feelings of confusion and loss, and these feelings are so closely matched that

the only explanation is shared mentation."

"Tractor beamers," Conway said urgently. "Pull them apart, gentlyl"

He had been delighted to find that the beings who made up the vast group entity

would link together naturally when the conditions were right, although that

might not be the case if too many intervening segments had been destroyed in the

accident, but he most certainly did not want a premature and permanent link-up

between these two at this stage. They would have to be returned to a state of

hibernation and resume their positions in the coil, otherwise they might find

themselves permanently separated, orphaned, from the group entity.

Even though the tractor beamers were no longer being gentle, the two CRLTs

stubbornly refused to separate. Instead they were becoming more physically

agitated, they were trying to emerge completely from their hibernation

cylinders, and their emotional radiation was seriously inconveniencing Prilicla.

"We must reverse the process—" Conway began.

"The sensors react to gravity and air pressure," Fletcher broke in quickly. "We

can't evacuate the hold without killing them, but if we cut the artificial

gravity only it might—"

"The endplate release mechanism was also linked to those sensors," Conway said,

"and we can't replace them in their slots without chopping the two beasties

apart, in the wrong place."

"It might stop the flow of resuscitation medication," Fletcher went on, "and

restart the hibernation sequence. The needles are still sited in both creatures

and the connecting tubing is flexible and still unbroken, although it won't be

for long if we don't stop them from leaving their cylinders. If we put a clamp

on the resuscitation line of each beastie, Doctor, I believe I could bypass the

endplate actuator and restart the hibernation medication."

"But you will be working inside the cylinders," Murchison said, "beside two very

massive and angry e-ts."

"No, ma'am," the Captain said. "1 am neither foolhardy nor a xenophobe, and I

shall work through an access panel in the outer skin. It should take about

twenty minutes."

"Too long," Conway said. "They will have disconnected

themselves from the tubing by then. We can calculate the dosage needed to put

them back to sleep. Can you drill through the wall of the container, ignoring

the sensors and actuators, and withdraw the required quantity of medication

directly?"

For a moment there was silence while Fletcher's features fell into an angry,

why-didn't-I think-of-that? expression, then he said, "Of course, Doctor."

But even when injections of the CRLTs own hibernation medication were ready

their troubles were far from over. The pressor beam operators who were

responsible for immobilizing the creatures could not hold down the two joined

e-ts without also flattening the medics who were trying to work on them. Their

best compromise was to leave a two-meters clearance on each side of the

operative field wherein the medical team would not be inconvenienced by the

pressors. But this meant that there was no restraint placed on the movements of

the creature along a four-meter length of its body, which wriggled and humped

and lashed out with its dorsal appendages and generally made it plain that it

did not want strange beings climbing all over it and sticking it with needles.

Several times Conway was knocked away from the patient and once, if it had not