E-ts on the staff whose home-planet histories did not contain an equivalent of the Inquisition likened him to other things, and often called him them to his face. But in O'Mara's book Justifiable Invective was not indicative of wrong thinking, so there were no serious repercussions.

            O'Mara was not responsible for the psychological shortcomings of patients in the hospital, but because it was so often impossible to tell when a purely physical pain left off and a psychosomatic one began, he was consulted in these cases also.

            The fact that the Major had detached him from ward duty could mean either promotion or demotion. If Mannon wanted him back, however, then the job which O'Mara had in mind for him must be of greater importance. So Conway was pretty certain that he was not in any trouble with O'Mara, which was a very nice way to feel. But curiosity was killing him.

            Then next morning he received orders to present himself at the office of the Chief Psychologist. .

CHAPTER 3

TROUBLE WITH EMILY

It must have been one of the big colonial transports of the type which carried four generations of colonists between the stars before the hyper-drive made such gargantuan ships obsolete, Conway thought, as he stared at the great tear-drop shape framed in the direct vision port beside O'Mara's desk. With the exception of the pilot's greenhouse, its banks of observation galleries and view ports were blocked off by thick metal plating, and braced solidly from the outside to withstand considerable internal pressure. Even beside the tremendous bulk of Sector General it looked huge.

            "You are to act as liaison between the hospital here and the doctor and patient from that ship," said Chief Psychologist O'Mara, watching him closely. "The doctor is quite a small life-form. The patient is a dinosaur.

            Conway tried to keep the astonishment he felt from showing in his face. O'Mara was analyzing his reactions, he knew, and perversely he wanted to make the other's job as difficult as possible. He said simply, "What's wrong with it?"

            "Nothing," said O'Mara.

            "It must be psychological, then.. .

            O'Mara shook his head.

            "Then what is a healthy, sane and intelligent being doing in a hos-"

            "It isn't intelligent."

            Conway breathed slowly in and out. O'Mara was obviously playing guessing games with him again-not that Conway minded that, provided he was given a sporting chance to guess the right answers. He looked again at the great mass of the converted transport, and meditated.

            Putting hyper-drive engines into that great sow of a ship had cost money, and the extensive structural alterations to the hull a great deal more. It seemed an awful lot of trouble to go to for a...

            "I've got it!" said Conway grinning. "It's a new specimen for us to take apart and investigate. .

            "Good Lord, no!" cried O'Mara, horrified. He shot a quick, almost frightened look at a small sphere of plastic which was half hidden by some books on his desk, then went on seriously, "This whole business has been arranged at the highest level-a sub-assembly of the Galactic Council, no less. As to what exactly it is all about neither I nor anyone else in Sector General knows. Possibly the doctor who accompanied the patient and who has charge of it may tell you sometime. .

            O'Mara's tone at that point implied that he very much doubted it.

            However, all that the hospital and yourself are required to do is cooperate.

Apparently the being who was the doctor in the case came from a race which had been only recently discovered, O'Mara went on to explain, which had tentatively been given the classification VUXG: that was, they were a life-form possessing certain psi faculties, had the ability to convert practically any substance into energy for their physical needs and could adapt to virtually any environment. They were small and well-nigh indestructible.

            The VUXG doctor was telepathic, but ethics and the privacy taboo forbade it using this faculty to communicate with a non-telepathic life form, even if its range included the Earth-human frequency. For that reason the Translator would be used exclusively. This doctor belonged to a species long-lived both as individuals and in recorded history, and in all that vast sweep of time there had been no war.

            They were an old, wise and humble race, O'Mara concluded; intensely humble. So much so that they tended to look down on other races who were not so humble as they. Conway would have to be very tactful because this extreme, this almost overbearing humility might easily be mistaken for something else.

            Conway looked closely at O'Mara. Was there not a faintly sardonic glean in those keen, iron-gray eyes and a too carefully neutral expression on that square-chiseled competent face? Then with a feeling of complete bafflement he saw O'Mara wink.

            Ignoring it, Conway said, "This race, they sound stuck up to me."

            He saw O'Mara's lips twitch, then a new voice broke in on the proceedings with dramatic suddenness. It was a flat, toneless, Translated voice which boomed, "The sense of the preceding remark is not clear to me. We are stuck-adhering-up where?" There was a short pause, then, "While I admit that my own mental capabilities are very low, at the same time I would suggest in all humility that the fault may not altogether lie with me, but be due in part to the lamentable tendency for you younger and more impractical races to make sense-free noises when there is no necessity for a noise to be made at all."

            It was then that Conway's wildly searching eyes lit on the transparent plastic globe on O'Mara's desk. Now that he was really looking at it he could see several lengths of strapping attached to it, together with the unmistakable shape of a Translator pack. Inside the container there floated a something...

            "Dr. Conway," said O'Mara dryly, "meet Dr. Arretapec, your new boss." Mouthing silently, he added, "You and your big mouth!"

            The thing in the plastic globe, which resembled nothing so much as a withered prune floating in a spherical gob of syrup, was the VUXG doctor! Conway felt his face burning. It was a good thing that the Translator dealt only with words and did not also transfer their emotional- in this instance sarcastic-connotations, otherwise he would have been in a most embarrassing position.

            "As the closest cooperation is required," O'Mara went on quickly, and the mass of the being Arretapec is slight, you will wear it while on duty." O'Mara deftly suited actions to his words and strapped the container onto Conway's shoulder. When he had finished he added, "You can go, Dr. Conway. Detailed orders, when and where necessary, will be given to you direct by Dr. Arretapec."

            It could only happen here, Conway thought wryly as they left. Here he was with an e-t doctor riding on his shoulder like a quivering, transparent dumpling, their patient a healthy and husky dinosaur, and the purpose of the whole business was something which his colleague was reluctant to clarify. Conway had heard of blind obedience but blind cooperation was a new-and he thought, rather stupid-concept.

On the way to Lock Seventeen, the point where the hospital was joined to the ship containing their patient, Conway tried to explain the organization of Sector Twelve General Hospital to the extra-terrestrial doctor. Dr. Arretapec asked some pertinent questions from time to time, so presumably he was interested.

            Even though he had been expecting it, the sheer size of the converted transport's interior shocked Conway. With the exception of the two levels nearest the ship's outer skin, which at the moment housed the artificial gravity generators, the Monitor Corps engineer had cut away everything to leave a great sphere of emptiness some two thousand feet in diameter. The inner surface of this sphere was a wet and muddy shambles. Great untidy heaps of uprooted vegetation were piled indiscriminately about, most of it partially trampled into the mud. Conway also noticed that quite a lot of it was withered and dying.

            After the gleaming, aseptic cleanliness which he was used to Conway found that the sight was doing peculiar things to his nervous system. He began looking around for the patient.

            His gaze moved out and upward across the acres of mud and tumbled vegetation until, high above his head on the opposite side of the sphere the swamp merged into a small, deep lake. There were shadowy movements and swirling below its surface. Suddenly a tiny head mounted on a great sinuous neck broke the surface, looked around, then submerged again with a tremendous splash.

            Conway surveyed the distance to the lake and the quality of the terrain between it and himself. He said, "It's a long way to walk, I'll get an antigravity belt. .

            "That will not be necessary," said Arretapec. The ground abruptly flung itself away from them and they were hurtling toward the distant lake.

            Classification VUXG, Conway reminded himself when he got his breath back; possessing certain psi faculties.

They landed gently near the edge of the lake. Arretapec told Conway that it wanted to concentrate its thinking processes for a few minutes and requested him to keep both quiet and still. A few seconds later an itching started deep inside his ear somewhere. Conway manfully refrained from poking at it with his finger and instead kept all his attention on the surface of the lake.

            Suddenly a great gray-brown, mountainous body broke the surface, a long tapering neck and tail slapping the water with explosive violence. For an instant Conway thought that the great beast had simply bobbed to the surface like a rubber ball but then he told himself that the bed of the lake must have shelved suddenly under the monster, giving an optically similar effect. Still threshing madly with neck, tail and four massive columnar legs the giant reptile gained the lake's edge and floundered onto, or rather into, the mud, because it sank over its knee joints. Conway estimated that the said knee-joints were at least ten feet from ground level, that the thickest diameter of the great body was about eighteen feet and that from head to tail the brute measured well over one hundred feet. He guessed its weight at about 80,000 pounds. It possessed no natural body armor but the extreme end of its tail, which showed surprising mobility for such a heavy member, had an osseous bulge from which spouted two wicked, forward-curving bony spikes.

            As Conway watched, the great reptile continued to churn up the mud in obvious agitation. Then abruptly it fell onto its knees and its great neck curved around and inward until its head muzzled underneath its own underbelly. It was a ridiculous but oddly pathetic posture.

            "It is badly frightened," said Arretapec. "These conditions do not adequately simulate its true environment.~~

            Conway could understand and sympathize with the beast. The ingredients of its environment were no doubt accurately reproduced but rather than being arranged in a lifelike manner they had just been thrown together into a large muddy stew. Probably not deliberately, he thought, there must have been some trouble with the artificial gravity grids on the way out to account for this jumbled landscape. He said:

            "Is the mental state of the patient of importance to the purpose of your work?"

            "Very much so," said Arretapec.

            "Then the first step is to make it a little more happy with its lot," said Conway, and went down on his haunches. He took a sample of the lake water, the mud and several of the varieties of vegetation nearby. Finally he straightened up and said, "Is there anything else we have to do here?"

            "I can do nothing at present," Arretapec replied. The Translated voice was toneless and utterly without emotion, naturally, but from the spacing of the words Conway thought that the other sounded deeply disappointed.

Back at the entry lock Conway made determined tracks toward the dining hall reserved for warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing life-forms. He was hungry.

            Many of his colleagues were in the hall-DBLF caterpillars who were slow everywhere but in the operating theater, Earth-human DBDGs like himself and the great, elephantine Tralthan-classification FGLI-who, with the little OTSB life-form who lived in symbiosis with it, was well on the way to joining the ranks of the lordly Diagnosticians. But instead of engaging in conversation all around, Conway concentrated on gaining all the data possible on the planet of origin of the reptilian patient.

            For greater ease of conversation he had taken Arretapec out of its plastic container and placed it on the table in a space between the potatoes and gravy dish. At the end of the meal Conway was startled to find that the being had dissolved-ingested-a two inch hole in the table!

            "When in deep cogitation," Arretapec replied when Conway rather exasperatedly wanted to know why, "the process of food-gathering and ingestion is automatic and unconscious with us. We do not indulge in eating as a pleasure as you obviously do, it dilutes the quality of our thinking. However, if I have caused damage...

            Conway hastily reassured him that a plastic tablecloth was relatively valueless in the present circumstances, and beat a quick retreat from the place. He did not try to explain how catering officers could feel rather peeved over their relatively valueless property.

            After lunch Conway picked up the analysis of his test samples, then headed for the Maintenance Chief's office. This was occupied by one of the Nidian teddy bears wearing an armband with gold edging, and an Earth-human in Monitor green whose collar bore a Colonel's insignia over an Engineering flash. Conway described the situation and what he wanted done, if such a thing was possible.

            "It is possible," said the red teddy bear after they had gone into a huddle of Conway's data sheets, "but-"

            "O'Mara told me expense is no object," Conway interrupted, nodding toward the tiny being on his shoulder. "Maximum cooperation, he said."

            "In that case we can do it," the Monitor Colonel put in briskly. He was regarding Arretapec with an expression close to awe. "Let's see, transports to bring the stuff from its home planet-quicker and cheaper in the long run than synthesizing its food here. And we'll need two full companies of the Engineers' Division with their robots to make its house a happy home, instead of the twenty-odd men responsible for bringing it here." His eyes became unfocused as rapid calculations went on behind them, then: "Three days."

            Even allowing for the fact that hyper-drive travel was instantaneous, Conway thought that that was very fast indeed. He said so.

            The Colonel acknowledged the compliment with the thinnest of smiles. He said, "What is all this in aid of, you haven't told us yet?"

            Conway waited for a full minute to give Arretapec plenty of time to answer the question, but the VUXG kept silent. He could only mumble "I don't know" and leave quickly.

The next door they entered was boldly labeled "Dietitian-in-Chief- Species DBDG, DBLF and FGLJ. Dr. K. W. HARDIN." Inside, the white-haired and distinguished head of Dr. Hardin raised itself from some charts he was studying and bawled, "And what's biting you.. .

            While Conway was impressed by and greatly respected Dr. Hardin, he was no longer afraid of him. The Chief Dietitian was a man who was quite charming to strangers, Conway had learned; with acquaintances he tended to be a little on the abrupt side, and toward his friends he was downright rude. As briefly as possible Conway tried to explain what was biting him.

            "You mean I have to go around replanting the stuff it's eaten, so that it doesn't know but that it grew naturally?" Hardin interrupted at one point. "Who the blazes do you think I am? And how much does this dirty great cow eat, anyway?"

            Conway gave him the figures he had worked out.

            "Three and a half tons of palm fronds a day!" Hardin roared, practically climbing his desk. "And tender green shoots of... Ye Gods! And they tell me dietetics is an exact science. Three and a half tons of shrubbery, exact! Hah...!"

            They left Hardin at that point. Conway knew that everything would be all right because the dietitian had shown no signs of becoming charming.

            To the VUXG Conway explained that Hardin had not been non cooperative, but had just sounded that way. He was keen to help as had been the other two. Arretapec replied to the effect that members of such immature and short-lived races could not help behaving in an insane fashion.

A second visit to their patient followed. Conway brought a C-belt along with him this time and so was independent of Arretapec's telejortive ability. They drifted around and above the great, ambulating mountain of flesh and bone, but not once did Arretapec so much as touch the creature. Nothing whatever happened except that the patient once again showed signs of agitation and Conway suffered a periodic itch deep inside his ear. He sneaked a quick look at the tell-tale which was surgically embedded in his forearm to see if there was anything foreign in his bloodstream, but everything was normal. Maybe he was just allergic to dinosaurs.

            Back in the hospital proper Conway found that the frequency and violence of his yawns was threatening to dislocate his jaw, and he realized that he had had a hard day. The concept of sleep was completely strange to Arretapec, but the being raised no objections to Conway indulging in it if it was necessary to his physical well-being. Conway gravely assured it that it was, and headed for his room by the shortest route.

            What to do with Dr. Arretapec bothered him for a while. The VUXG was an important personage; he could not very well leave it in a storage closet or in a corner somewhere, even though the being was tough enough to be comfortable in much more rugged surroundings. Nor could he simply put it out for the night without gravely hurting its feelings-at least, if the positions had been reversed his feelings would have been hurt. He wished O'Mara had given instructions to cover this contingency. Finally he placed the being on top of his writing desk and forgot about it.

            Arretapec must have thought deeply during the night, because there was a three inch hole in the desktop next morning.

III

During the afternoon of the second day a row started between the two doctors. At least Conway considered it a row; what an entirely alien mind like Arretapec's chose to think of it was anybody's guess.

            It started when the VUXG requested Conway to be quiet and still while it went into one of its silences. The being had gone back to the old position on Conway's shoulder, explaining that it could concentrate more effectively while at rest rather than with part of its mind engaged in levitating. Conway had done as he was told without comment though there were several things he would have liked to say: What was wrong with the patient? What was Arretapec doing about it? And how was it being done when neither of them so much as touched the creature? Conway was in the intensely frustrating position of a doctor confronted with a patient on whom he is not allowed to practice his craft: he was eaten up with curiosity and it was bothering him. Yet he did his best to stand still.

            But the itching started inside his ear again, worse than ever before. He barely noticed the geysers of mud and water flung up by the dinosaur as it threshed its way out of the shallows and onto the bank. The gnawing, unlocalized itch built up remorselessly until with a sudden yell of fright he slapped at the side of his head and began poking frantically at his ear. The action brought immediate and blessed relief, but...

            "I cannot work if you fidget," said Arretapec, the rapidity of the words the only indication of their emotional content. "You will therefore leave me at once.

            "I wasn't fidgeting," Conway protested angrily. "My ear itched and

I-"

            "An itch, especially one capable of making you move as this one has done, is a symptom of a physical disorder which should be treated," the VUXG interrupted. "Or it is caused by a parasitic or symbiotic life-form dwelling, perhaps unknown to you, on your body.

            "Now, I expressly stated that my assistant should be in perfect physical health and not a member of a species who either consciously or unconsciously harbored parasites-a type, you must understand, which are particularly prone to fidget-so that you can understand my displeasure. Had it not been for your sudden movement I might have accomplished something, therefore go.

            "Why you supercilious-"

The dinosaur chose that moment to stagger into the shallow water again, lose its footing and come the great grand-daddy of all bellyflops. Falling mud and spray drenched Conway and a small tidal wave surged over his feet. The distraction was enough to make him pause, and the pause gave him time to realize that he had not been personally insulted. There were many intelligent species who harbored parasites-some of them actually necessary to the health of the host body, so that in their case the slang expression being lousy also meant being in tiptop condition. Maybe Arretapec had meant to be insulting, but he could not be sure. And the VUXG was, after all, a very important person...

            "What exactly might you have accomplished?" Conway asked sarcastically. He was still angry, but had decided to fight on the professional rather than the personal level. Besides, he knew that the Translator would take the insulting edge off his words. "What are you trying to accomplish, and how do you expect to do it merely by-from what I can see, anyway-just looking at the patient?"

            "I cannot tell you," Arretapec replied after a few seconds. "My purpose is.. . is vast. It is for the future. You would not understand."

            "How do you know? If you told me what you were doing maybe I could help."

            "You cannot help."

            "Look," said Conway exasperated, "you haven't even tried to use the full facilities of the hospital yet. No matter what you are trying to do for your patient, the first step should have been a thorough examination- immobilization, followed by X rays, biopsies, the lot. This would have given you valuable physiological data upon which to work-"

            "To state the matter simply," Arretapec broke in, "you are saying that in order to understand a complicated organism or mechanism, one must first be broken down into its component parts that they might be understood individually. My race does not believe that an object must be destroyed-even in part-before it can be understood. Your crude methods of investigation are therefore worthless to me. I suggest that you leave."

            Seething, Conway left.

            His first impulse was to storm into O'Mara's office and tell the Chief Psychologist to find somebody else to run errands for the VUXG. But O'Mara had told him that his present assignment was important, and O'Mara would have unkind things to say if he thought that Conway was throwing his hand in simply out of pique because his curiosity had not been satisfied or his pride hurt. There were lots of doctors-the assistants to Diagnosticians, particularly-who were not allowed to touch their superior's patients, or was it just that Conway resented a being like Arretapec being his superior...?

            If Conway went to O'Mara in his present frame of mind there was real danger of the psychologist deciding that he was temperamentally unsuited for his position. Quite apart from the prestige attached to a post at Sector General, the work performed in it was both stimulating and very much worthwhile. Should O'Mara decide that he was unfit to remain here and pack him off to some planetary hospital, it would be the greatest tragedy of Conway's life.

            But if he could not go to O'Mara, where could he go? Ordered off one job and not having another, Conway was at loose ends. He stood at a corridor intersection for several minutes thinking, while beings representing a cross-section of all the intelligent races of the galaxy strode undulated or skittered past him, then suddenly he had it. There was something he could do, something which he would have done anyway if everything had not happened with such a rush.

            The hospital library had several items on the prehistoric periods of Earth, both taped and in the old-fashioned and more cumbersome book form. Conway heaped them on a reading desk and prepared to make an attempt to satisfy his professional curiosity about the patient in this roundabout fashion.

            The time passed very quickly.

Dinosaur, Conway discovered at once, was simply a general term applied to the giant reptiles. The patient, except for its larger size and bony enlargement of the tip of the tail, was identical in outward physical characteristics to the brontosaurus which lived among the swamps of the Jurassic Period. It also was herbivorous, but unlike their patient had no means of defense against the carnivorous reptiles of its time. There was a surprising amount of physiological data available as well, which Conway absorbed greedily.

            The spinal column was composed of huge vertebrae, and with the exception of the caudal vertebrae all were hollow-this saving of osseous material making possible a relatively low body weight in comparison with its tremendous size. It was oviparous. The head was small, the brain case one of the smallest found among the vertebrates. But in addition to this brain there was a well-developed nerve center in the region of the sacral vertebrae which was several times as large as the brain proper. It was thought that the brontosaur grew slowly, their great size being explained by the fact that they could live two hundred or more years.

            Their only defense against contemporary rivals was to take to and remain in the water-they could pasture under water and required only brief mouthfuls of air, apparently. They became extinct when geologic changes caused their swampy habitats to dry up and leave them at the mercy of their natural enemies.

            One authority stated that these saurians were nature's biggest failure. Yet they had flourished, said another, through three geologic periods- the Triassic, Jurassic and Cretaceous-which totaled 140 million years, a long time indeed for a "failure" to be around, considering the fact that Man had existed only for approximately half a million years...!

Conway left the library with the conviction that he had discovered something important, but what exactly it was he could not say; it was an intensely frustrated feeling. Over a hurried meal he decided that he badly needed more information and there was only one person who might be able to give it to him. He would see O'Mara again.

            "Where is our small friend?" said the psychologist sharply when Conway entered his office a few minutes later. "Have you had a fight or something?"

            Conway gulped and tried to keep his voice steady as he replied, "Dr. Arretapec wished to work with the patient alone for a while, and I've been doing some research on dinosaurs in the library. I wondered if you had anymore information for me?"

            "A little," O'Mara said. He looked steadily at Conway for several very uncomfortable seconds, then grunted, "Here it is. .

            The Monitor Corps survey vessel which had discovered Arretapec's home planet had, after realizing the high stage of civilization reached by the inhabitants, given them the hyper-drive. One of the first planets visited had been a raw, young world devoid of intelligent life, but one of its life-forms had interested them-the giant saurian. They had told the Galactic powers-that-be that given the proper assistance they might be able to do something which would benefit civilization as a whole, and as it was impossible for any telepathic race to tell a lie or even understand what a lie is, they were given the assistance asked for and Arretapec and his patient had come to Sector General. There was one other small item as well, O'Mara told Conway. Apparently the VUXG's psi faculties included a sort of precognitive ability. This latter did not appear to be of much use because it did not work with individuals but only with populations, and then so far in the future and in such a haphazard manner that it was practically useless.

            Conway left O'Mara feeling more confused than ever.

            He was still trying to make the odd bits and pieces of information add up to something which made sense, but either he was too tired or too stupid. And definitely he was tired; these past two days his brain had been just so much thick, weary fog...

            There must be an association between the two factors, Arretapec's coming and this unaccountable weariness, Conway thought: he was in good physical condition and no amount of muscular or mental exertion had left him feeling this way before. And had not Arretapec said something about the itching sensations he had felt being symptomatic of a disorder?

            All of a sudden his job with the VUXG doctor was no longer merely frustrating or annoying. Conway was beginning to feel anxiety for his own personal safety. Suppose the itching was due to some new type of bacteria which did not show up on his personal tell-tale? He had thought something like this when his fidgeting had caused Arretapec to send him away, but for the rest of the day he had been subconsciously trying to convince himself that it was nothing because the intensity of the sensations had diminished to practically zero. Now he knew that he should have had one of the senior physicians look into it. He should, in fact, do it now.

            But Conway was very tired. He promised himself that he would get Dr. Mannon, his previous superior, to give him a going over in the morning. And in the morning he would have to get on the right side of Arretapec again. He was still worrying about the strange new disease he might have caught and the correct method of apologizing to a VUXG life-form when he fell asleep.

Iv

Next morning there was another two-inch hollow eaten in the top of his desk and Arretapec was nestling inside it. As soon as Conway demonstrated that he was awake by sitting up, the being spoke:

            "It had occurred to me since yesterday," the VUXG said, "that I have perhaps been expecting too much in the way of self-control, emotional stability, and the ability to endure or to discount minor physical irritants in a member of a species which is-relatively, you understand-of low mentality. I will therefore do my utmost to bear these points in mind during our future relations together."

            It took a few seconds for Conway to realize that Arretapec had apologized to him. When he did he thought that it was the most insulting apology he had ever had tendered to him, and that it spoke well for his self-control that he did not tell the other so. Instead he smiled and insisted that it was all his fault. They left to see their patient again.

            The interior of the converted transport had changed out of all recognition. Instead of a hollow sphere covered with a muddy shambles of soil, water and foliage, three-quarters of the available surface was now a perfect representation of a Mesozoic landscape. Yet it was not exactly the same as the pictures Conway had studied yesterday, because they had been of a distant age of Earth and this flora had been transplanted from the patient's own world, but the differences were surprisingly small. The greatest change was in the sky.

            Where previously it had been possible to look up at the opposite side of the hollow sphere, now one looked up into a blue-white mist in which burned a very lifelike sun. The hollow center of the ship had been almost filled with this semi-opaque gas so that now it would take a keen eye and a mind armed with foreknowledge for a person to know that he was not standing on a real planet with a real sun in the foggy sky above him. The engineers had done a fine job.

            "I had not thought such an elaborate and lifelike reconstruction possible here," said Arretapec suddenly. "You are to be commended. This should have a very good effect on the patient."

The life-form under discussion-for some peculiar reason the engineers insisted on calling it Emily-was contentedly shredding the fronds from the top of a thirty foot high palm-like growth. The fact of its being on dry land instead of pasturing under water was indicative of its state of mind, Conway knew, because the old-time brontosaur invariably took to the water when threatened by enemies, that being its only defense. Apparently this neo-brontosaurus hadn't a care in the world.

            "Essentially it is the same as fitting up a new ward for the treatment of any extra-terrestrial patient," said Conway modestly, "the chief difference here being the scale of the work undertaken."

            "I am nevertheless impressed," said Arretapec.

            First apologies and now compliments, Conway thought wryly. As they moved closer and Arretapec once again warned him to keep quiet and still, Conway guessed that the VUXG's change of manner was due to the work of the engineers. With the patient now in ideal surroundings the treatment, whatever form it was taking, might have an increased chance of success .

            Suddenly Conway began to itch again. It started in the usual place deep inside his right ear, but this time it spread and built up in intensity until his whole brain seemed to be crawling with viciously biting insects. He felt cold sweat break on him, and remembered his fears of the previous evening when he had resolved to go to Mannon. This wasn't imagination, this was serious, perhaps deadly serious. His hands flew to his head with a panicky, involuntary motion, knocking the container holding Arretapec to the ground.

            "You are fidgeting again. . ." began the VUXG.

            "I ... I'm sorry," Conway stammered. He mumbled something incoherent about having to leave, that it was important and couldn't wait, then fled in disorder.

Three hours later he was sitting in Dr. Mannon's DBDG examination room while Mannon's dog alternately growled fiercely at him or rolled on its back and looked appealing in vain attempts to entice him to play with it. But Conway had no inclination for the ritual pummeling and wrestling that the dog and himself enjoyed when he had the time for it. All his attention was focused on the bent head of his former superior and on the charts lying on Mannon's desk. Suddenly the other looked up.

            "There's nothing wrong with you," he said in the peremptory manner reserved for students and patients suspected of malingering. A few seconds later he added, "Oh, I've no doubt you've felt these sensations- tiredness, itching, and so on-but what sort of case are you working on at the moment?"

            Conway told him. A few times during the narration Mannon grinned.

            "I take it this is your first long-term-er-exposure to a telepathic life-form and that I am the first you've mentioned this trouble to?" Mannon s tone was of one making a statement rather than of asking a question. "And, of course, although you feel this itching sensation intensely when close to the VUXG and the patient, it continues in a weaker form at other times."

            Conway nodded. "I felt it for a while just five minutes ago.

            "Naturally, there is attenuation with distance," Mannon said. "But as regards yourself, you have nothing to worry about. Arretapec is-all unknowingly, you understand-simply trying to make a telepath out of you. I'll explain..

            Apparently prolonged contact with some telepathic life-forms stimulated a certain area in the human brain which was either the beginnings of a telepathic function that would evolve in the future, or the atrophied remnant of something possessed in the primitive past and since lost.

            The result was troublesome but a quite harmless irritation. On very rare occasions however, Mannon added, this proximity produced in the human a sort of artificial telepathic faculty-that was, he could sometimes receive thoughts from the telepath to whom he had been exposed, but of no other being. The faculty was in all cases strictly temporary, and disappeared when the being responsible for bringing it about left the human.

            "But these cases of induced telepathy are extremely rare," Mannon concluded, "and obviously you are getting only the irritant by-product, otherwise you might know what Arretapec is playing at simply by reading his mind..

While Dr. Mannon had been talking, and relieved of the worry that he had caught some strange new disease, Conway's mind had been working furiously. Vaguely, as odd events with Arretapec and the brontosaurus returned to his mind and were added to scraps of the VUXG's conversations and his own studying of the life-and extinction-of Earth's long gone race of giant reptiles, a picture was forming in his mind. It was a crazy-or at least cockeyed-picture, and it was still incomplete, but what else could a being like Arretapec be doing to a patient like the brontosaurus, a patient who had nothing at all wrong with it?

            "Pardon?" Conway said. He had become aware that Mannon had said something which he had not caught.

            "I said if you find out what Arretapec is doing, let me know," Mannon repeated.

            "Oh, I know what it's doing," said Conway. "At least I think I do- and I understand why Arretapec does not want to talk about it. The ridicule if it tried and failed, why even the idea of its trying is ridiculous. What I don't know is why it is doing it..

            "Dr. Conway," said Mannon in a deceptively mild voice, "if you don't tell me what you're talking about I will, as our cruder-minded interns so succinctly put it, have your guts for garters."

            Conway stood up quickly. He had to get back to Arretapec without further delay. Now that he had a rough idea of what was going on there were things he must see to-urgent safety precautions that a being such as the VUXG might not think of. Absently, he said, "I'm sorry, sir, I can't tell you. You see, from what you've told me there is a possibility that my knowledge derives directly from Arretapec's mind, telepathically, and is therefore privileged information. I've got to rush now, but thanks very much."

            Once outside Conway practically ran to the nearest communicator and called Maintenance. The voice which answered he recognized as belonging to the engineer Colonel he had met earlier. He said quickly, "Is the hull of that converted transport strong enough to take the shock of a body of approximately eight thousand pounds moving at, uh, anything between twenty and one hundred miles an hour, and what safety measures can you take against such an occurrence?"

            There was a long, loaded silence, then, "Are you kidding? It would go through the hull like so much plywood. But in the event of a major puncture like that the volume of air inside the ship is such that there would be plenty of time for the maintenance people to get into suits. Why do you ask?"

            Conway thought quickly. He wanted a job done but did not want to tell why. He told the Colonel that he was worried about the gravity grids which maintained the artificial gravity inside the ship. There were so many of them that if one section should accidentally reverse its polarity and fling the brontosaurus away from it instead of holding it down...

            Rather testily the Colonel agreed that the gravity grids could be switched to repulsion, also focused into pressor or attractor beams, but that the changeover did not occur simply because somebody breathed on them. There were safety devices incorporated which...

            "All the same," Conway broke in, "I would feel much safer about things if you could fix all the gravity grids so that at the approach of a heavy falling body they would automatically switch over to repulsion- just in case the worst happens. Is that possible?"

            "Is this an order?" said the Colonel, "or are you just the worrying type?"

            "It's an order, I'm afraid," said Conway.

            "Then it's possible." A sharp click put a full stop to the conversation.

            Conway set out to rejoin Arretapec again to become an ideal assistant to his chief in that he would have answers ready before the questions were asked. Also, he thought wryly, he would have to maneuver the VUXG into asking the proper questions so that he could answer them.

On the fifth day of their association, Conway said to Arretapec, "I have been assured that your patient is not suffering from either a physical condition or one requiring psychiatric correction, so that I am led to the conclusion that you are trying to effect some change in the brain structure by telepathic, or some related means. If my conclusions are correct, I have information which might aid or at least interest you:

            "There was a giant reptile similar to the patient which lived on my own planet in primitive times. From remains unearthed by archaeologists we know that it possessed, or required, a second nerve center several times as big as the brain proper in the region of the sacral vertebrae, presumably to handle movements of the hind legs, tail and so on. If such was the case here you might have two brains to deal with instead of one."

            As he waited for Arretapec to reply Conway gave thanks that the VUXG belonged to a highly ethical species which did not hold with using their telepathy on non-telepaths, otherwise the being would have known that Conway knew that their patient had two nerve-centers-that he knew because while Arretapec had been slowly eating another hole in his desk one night and Conway and the patient had been asleep, a colleague of Conway's had surreptitiously used an X-ray scanner and camera on the unsuspecting dinosaur.

            "Your conclusions are correct," said Arretapec at last, "and your information is interesting. I had not thought it possible for one entity to possess two brains. However this would explain the unusual difficulty of communication I have with this creature. I will investigate."

            Conway felt the itching start inside his head again, but now that he knew what it was he was able to take it without "fidgeting." The itch died away and Arretapec said, "I am getting a response. For the first time I am getting a response." The itching sensation began inside his skull again and slowly built up, and up...

            It wasn't just like ants with red-hot pincers chewing at his brain cells, Conway thought agonizedly as he fought to keep from moving and distracting Arretapec now that the being appeared to be getting somewhere; it felt as though somebody was punching holes in his poor, quivering brain with a rusty nail. It had never been like this before, this was sheer torture.

            Then suddenly there was a subtle change in the sensations. Not a lessening, but of something added. Conway had a brief, blinding glimpse of something-it was like a phrase of great music played on a damaged recording, or the beauty of a masterpiece that is cracked and disfigured almost beyond recognition. He knew that for an instant, through the distorting waves of pain, he had actually seen into Arretapec's mind.

Now he knew everything...

The VUXG continued to have responses all that day, but they were erratic, violent and uncontrolled. After one particular dramatic response had caused the panicky dinosaur to level a couple of acres of trees, then sent it charging into the lake in terror, Arretapec called a halt.

            "It is useless," said the doctor. "The being will not use what I am trying to teach it for itself, and when I force the process it becomes afraid."

            There was no emotion in the flat, Translated tones, but Conway who had had a glimpse of Arretapec's mind knew the bitter disappointment that the other felt. He wished desperately that he could help, but he knew that he could do nothing directly of assistance-Arretapec was the one who had to do the real work in this case, he could only prod things along now and then. He was still wracking his brain for an answer to the problem when he turned in that night, and just before he went to sleep he thought he found it.

            Next morning they tracked down Dr. Mannon just as he was entering the DBLF operating theater. Conway said, "Sir, can we borrow your dog?"

            "Business or pleasure?" said Mannon suspiciously. He was very attached to his dog, so much so that non-human members of the staff suspected a symbiotic relationship.

            "We won't hurt it at all," said Conway reassuringly.

            "Thanks." He took the lead from the appendage of the Tralthan intern holding it, then said to Arretapec, "Now back to my room...

            Ten minutes later the dog, barking furiously, was dashing around Conway's room while Conway himself hurled cushions and pillows at it. Suddenly one connected fairly, bowling it over. Paws scrabbling and skidding on the plastic flooring it erupted into frantic burst of high-pitched yelps and snarls.

            Conway found himself whipped off his feet and suspended eight feet up in mid-air.

            "I did not realize," boomed the voice of Arretapec from his position on the desk, "that you had intended this to be a demonstration of Earth human sadism. I am shocked, horrified. You will release this unfortunate animal at once."

            Conway said, "Put me down and I'll explain. .

On the eighth day they returned the dog to Dr. Mannon and went back to work on the dinosaur. At the end of the second week they were still working and Arretapec, Conway and their patient were being talked, whistled, cheeped and grunted about in every language in use at the hospital. They were in the dining hall one day when Conway became aware that the annunciator which had been droning out messages in the background was now calling his name.

            O'Mara on the intercom," it was saying monotonously, "Doctor Conway, please. Would you contact Major O'Mara on the intercom as soon as possible. .

            "Excuse me," Conway said to Arretapec, who was nestling on the plastic block which the catering superintendent had rather pointedly placed at Conway's table, and headed for the nearest communicator.

            "It isn't a life-and-death matter," said O'Mara when he called and asked what was wrong. "I would like to have some things explained to me. For instance:

            "Dr. Hardin is practically frothing at the mouth because the food vegetation which he plants and replenishes so carefully has now got to be sprayed with some chemical which will render it less pleasant to taste, and why is a certain amount of the vegetation kept at its full flavor but in storage? What are you doing with a tri-di projector? And where does Mannon's dog fit into this?" O'Mara paused, reluctantly, for breath, then went on, "And Colonel Skempton says that his engineers are run ragged setting up tractor and pressor beam mounts for you two-not that he minds that so much, but he says that if all that gadgetry was pointed outward instead of inward that hulk you're messing around in could take on and lick a Federation cruiser.

            "And his men, well.. ." O'Mara was holding his tone to a conversational level, but it was obvious that he was having trouble doing so. Quite a few of them are having to consult me professionally. Some

of them, the lucky ones perhaps, just don't believe their eyes. The others would much prefer pink elephants."

            There was a short silence, then O'Mara said, "Mannon tells me that you climbed onto your ethical high horse and wouldn't say a thing when he asked you. I was wondering-"

            "I'm sorry, sir," said Conway awkwardly.

            "But what the blinding blue blazes are you doing?" O'Mara erupted, then, "Well, good luck with it anyway. Off."

Conway hurried to rejoin Arretapec and take up the conversation where it had been left off. As they were leaving a little later, Conway said, "It was stupid of me not to take the size factor into consideration. But now that we have-"

            "Stupid of us, friend Conway," Arretapec corrected in its toneless voice. "Most of your ideas have worked out successfully so far. You have been of invaluable assistance to me, so that I sometimes think that you have guessed my purpose. I am hoping that this idea, also, will work."

            "We'll keep our fingers crossed."

            On this occasion Arretapec did not, as it usually did, point out that firstly it did not believe in luck and secondly that it possessed no fingers. Arretapec was definitely growing more understanding of the ways of humans. And Conway now wished that the high-minded VUXG would read his mind, just so that the being would know how much he was with it in this, how much he wanted Arretapec's experiment to succeed this afternoon.

            Conway could feel the tension mounting in him all the way to the ship. When he was giving the engineers and maintenance men their final instructions and making sure that they knew what to do in any emergency, he knew that he was joking a bit too much and laughing a little too heartily. But then everyone was showing signs of strain. A little later, however, as he stood less than fifty yards from the patient and with equipment festooning him like a Christmas tree-an anti-gravity pack belted around his waist, a tri-di projector locus and viewer strapped to his chest and his shoulders hung with a heavy radio pack-his tension had reached the point of immobility and outward calm of the spring which can be wound no tighter.

            "Projector crew ready," said a voice.

            "The food's in place," came another.

            "All tractor and pressor beam men on top line," reported a third.

            "Right, Doctor," Conway said to the hovering Arretapec, and ran a suddenly dry tongue around drier lips. "Do your stuff."

            He pressed a stud on the locus mechanism on his chest and immediately there sprang into being around and above him the immaterial image of a Conway who was fifty feet high. He saw the patient's head go up, heard the low-pitched whinnying sound that it made when agitated or afraid and which contrasted so oddly with its bulk, and saw it backing ponderously toward the water's edge. But Arretapec was radiating furiously at the brontosaur's two small, almost rudimentary brains-sending out great waves of calm and reassurance-and the great reptile grew quiet. Very slowly so as not to alarm it, Conway went through the motions of reaching behind him, picking something up and placing it well in front of him. Above and around him his fifty-foot image did the same.

            But where the image's great hand came down there was a bundle of greenery, and when the solid-seeming but immaterial hand moved upward the bundle followed it, kept in position at the apex of three delicately manipulated pressor beams. The fresh, moist bundle of plants and palm fronds was placed close to the still uneasy dinosaur, apparently by the hand which then withdrew. After what seemed like an eternity to the waiting Conway the massive, sinuous neck arched downward. It began poking at the greenery. It began to nibble...

            Conway went through the same motions again, and again. All the time he and his fifty-foot image kept edging closer.

            The brontosaur, he knew, could at a pinch eat the vegetation which grew around it, but since Dr. Hardin's sprayer had gone into operation it wasn't very nice stuff. But it could tell that these tidbits were the real, old stuff; the fresh, juicy, sweet-smelling food that it used to know which had so unaccountably disappeared of late. Its nibbles became hungry gobbling.

            Conway said, "All right. Stage Two..

Using the tiny viewer which showed his image's relationship to the dinosaur as a guide, Conway reached forward again. High up and invisible on the opposite wall of the hull another pressor beam went into operation, synchronizing its movements with the hand which was now apparently stroking the patient's great neck, and administering a firm but gentle pressure. After an initial instant of panic the patient went back to eating, and occasionally shuddering a little. Arretapec reported that it was enjoying the sensation.

            "Now," said Conway, "We'll start playing rough."

            Two great hands were placed against its side and massed pressors toppled it over with a ground-shaking crash. In real terror now it threshed and heaved madly in a vain attempt to get its ponderous and ungainly body upright on its feet. But instead of inflicting mortal damage, the great hands continued only to stroke and pat. The brontosaur had quieted and was showing signs of enjoying itself again when the hands moved to a new position. Tractor and pressor beams both seized the recumbent body, yanked it upright and toppled it onto the opposite side.

            Using the anti-gravity belt to increase his mobility, Conway began hopping over and around the brontosaur, with Arretapec, who was in rapport with the patient, reporting constantly on the effects of the various stimuli. He stroked, patted, pummeled and pushed at the giant reptile with blown-up, immaterial hands and feet. He yanked its tail and he slapped its neck, and all the time the tractor and pressor crews kept perfect time with him...

            Something like this had occurred before, not to mention other things which, it was rumored, had driven one engineer to drink and at least four off it. But it was not until the size factor had been taken into consideration as it had today with this monster tri-di projection that there had been such promising results. Previously it had been as if a mouse were manhandling a St. Bernard during the past week or so-no wonder the brontosaurus had been in a frenzy of panic when all sorts of inexplicable things had been happening to it and the only reason it could see for them was two tiny creatures that were just barely visible to it!

            But the patient's species had roamed its home planet for a hundred million years, and it personally was immensely long-lived. Although its two brains were tiny it was really much smarter than a dog, so that very soon Conway had it trying to sit and beg.

            And two hours later the brontosaurus took off.

It rose rapidly from the ground, a monstrous, ungainly and indescribable object with its massive legs making involuntary walking movements and the great neck and tail hanging down and waving slowly. Obviously it was the brain in the sacral area and not the cranium which was handling the levitation, Conway thought, as the great reptile approached the bunch of palm fronds which were balanced tantalizingly two hundred feet above its head. But that was a detail, it was levitating, that was the main thing. Unless- "Are you helping?" Conway said sharply to Arretapec.

            The reply was flat and emotionless by necessity, but had the VUXG been human it would have been a yell of sheer triumph.

            "Good old Emily!" somebody shouted in Conway's phones, probably one of the beam operators, then, "Look, she's passing it!"

            The brontosaur had missed the suspended bundle of foliage and was still rising fast. It made a clumsy, convulsive attempt to reach it in passing, which had set up a definite spin. Further wild movements of neck and tail were aggravating it.

            "Better get her down out of there," said a second voice urgently. "That artificial sun could scorch her tail off."

            And that spin is making it panicky," agreed Conway. "Tractor beam men...!"

            But he was too late. Sun, earth and sky were careening in wild, twisting loops around a being which had been hitherto accustomed to solid ground under its feet. It wanted down or up, or somewhere. Despite Arretapec's frantic attempts to soothe it, it teleported again.

            Conway saw the great mountain of flesh and bone go hurtling off at a tangent, at least four times faster than its original speed. He yelled, "H sector men! Cushion it down, gently."

            But there was neither time nor space for the pressor beam men to slow it down gently. To keep it from crashing fatally to the surface-also through the underlying plating and out into space outside-they had to slow it down steadily but firmly, and to the brontosaurus that necessarily sharp braking must have felt like a physical blow. It teleported again.

            "C-sector, it's coming at you!"

            But at C it was a repetition of what happened with H, the beast panicked and shot off in another direction. And so it went on, with the great reptile rocketing from one side of the ship's interior to the other until...

            "Skempton here," said a brisk authoritative voice. "My men say the pressor beam mounts were not designed to stand this sort of thing. Insufficiently braced. The hull plating has sprung in eight places."

            "Can't you-"

            "We're sealing the leaks as fast as we can, Skempton cut in, answering Conway's question before he could ask it. "But this battering is shaking the ship apart...

            Dr. Arretapec joined in at that point.

            "Doctor Conway," the being said, "while it is obvious that the patient has shown a surprising aptitude with its new talent, its use is uncontrolled because of its fear and confusion. This traumatic experience will cause irreparable damage, I am convinced, to the being's thinking processes...

"Conway, look out!"

The reptile had come to a halt near ground level a few hundred yards away, then shot off at right angles toward Conway's position. But it was traveling a straight line inside a hollow sphere, and the surface was curving up to meet it. Conway saw the hurtling body lurch and spin as the beam operators sought desperately to check its velocity. Then suddenly the mighty body was ripping through the low, thickly-growing trees, then it was plowing a wide, shallow furrow through the soft, swampy ground and with a small mountain of earth-uprooted vegetation piling up in front of it, Conway was right in its path.

            Before he could adjust the control of his anti-gravity pack the ground came up and fell on him. For a few minutes he was too dazed to realize why it was he couldn't move, then he saw that he was buried to the waist in a sticky cement of splintered branches and muddy earth. The heavings and shudderings he felt in the ground were the brontosaurus climbing to its feet. He looked up to see the great mass towering over him, saw it turn awkwardly and heard the sucking and crackling noises as the massive, pile-driver legs drove almost knee deep into the soil and underbrush.

            Emily was heading for the lake again, and between the water and it was Conway...

            He shouted and struggled in a frenzied attempt to attract attention, because the anti-gray and radio were smashed and he was stuck fast. The great reptilian mountain rolled up to him, the immense, slowly-waving neck was cutting off the light and one gigantic forefoot was poised to both kill and bury him in one operation, then Conway was yanked suddenly upward and to the side to where a prune in a gob of syrup was floating in the air.

            "In the excitement of the moment," Arretapec said, "I had forgotten that you require a mechanical device to teleport. Please accept my apologies."

            "Q-quite all right," said Conway shakily. He made an effort to steady his jumping nerves, then caught sight of a pressor beam crew on the surface below him. He called suddenly, "Get another radio and projector locus here, quick!"

            Ten minutes later he was bruised, battered but ready to continue again. He stood at the water's edge with Arretapec hovering at his shoulder and his fifty-foot image again rising above him. The VUXG doctor, in rapport with the brontosaur under the surface of the lake, reported that success or failure hung in the balance. The patient had gone through what was to it a mind-wrecking experience, but the fact that it was now in what it felt to be the safety of underwater-where it had hitherto sought refuge from hunger and attacks of its enemies-was, together with the mental reassurances of Arretapec, exerting a steadying influence.

            At times hopefully, at others in utter despair, Conway waited. Sometimes the strength of his feelings made him swear. It would not have been so bad, meant so much to him, if he hadn't caught that glimpse of what Arretapec's purpose had been, or if he had not grown to like the rather prim and over-condescending ball of goo so much. But any being with a mind like that who intended doing what it hoped to do had a right to be condescending.

            Abruptly the huge head broke surface and the enormous body heaved itself onto the bank. Slowly, ponderously, the hind legs bent double and the long, tapering neck stretched upward. The brontosaurus wanted to play again.

            Something caught in Conway's throat. He looked to where a dozen bundles of succulent greenery lay ready for use, with one already being maneuvered toward him. He waved his arm abruptly and said, "Oh, give it the whole lot, it deserves them. .

..... So that when Arretapec saw the conditions on the patient's world," Conway said a little stiffly, "and its precognitive faculty told him what the brontosaur's most likely future would be, it just had to try to change it."

            Conway was in the Chief Psychologist's office making a preliminary, verbal report and the intent faces of O'Mara, Hardin, Skempton and the hospital's Director encircled him. He felt anything but comfortable as, clearing his throat, he went on, "But Arretapec belongs to an old, proud race, and being telepathic added to its sensitivity-telepaths really feel what others think about them. What Arretapec proposed doing was so radical, it would leave itself and its race open to such ridicule if it failed, that it just had to be secretive. Conditions on the brontosaur's planet indicated that there would be no rise of an intelligent life-form after the great reptiles became extinct, and geologically speaking that extinction would not be long delayed. The patient's species had been around for a long time-that armored tail and amphibious nature had allowed it to survive more predatory and specialized contemporaries-but climatic changes were imminent and it could not follow the sun toward the equator because the planetary surface was composed of a large number of island continents. A brontosaurus could not cross an ocean. But if these giant reptiles could be made to develop the psi faculty of teleportation, the ocean barrier would disappear and with it the danger from the encroaching cold and shortage of food. It was this which Dr. Arretapec succeeded in doing."

            O'Mara broke in at that point: "If Arretapec gave the brontosaurus the teleportive ability by working directly on its brain, why can't the same be done for us?"

            "Probably because we've managed fine without it," replied Conway. "The patient, on the other hand, was shown and made to understand that this faculty was necessary for its survival. Once this is realized the ability will be used and passed on, because it is latent in nearly all species. Now that Arretapec has proved the idea possible his whole race will want to get in on it. Fostering intelligence on what would otherwise be a dead planet is the sort of big project which appeals to those high-minded types...

            Conway was thinking of that single, precognitive glimpse he had had into Arretapec's mind, of the civilization which would develop on the brontosaur's world and the monstrous yet strangely graceful beings that it would contain in some far, far, future day. But he did not mention these thoughts aloud. Instead he said, "Like most telepaths Arretapec was both squeamish and inclined to discount purely physical methods of investigation. It was not until I introduced him to Dr. Mannon's dog, and pointed out that a good way to get an animal to use a new ability was to teach it tricks with it, that we got anywhere. I showed that trick where I throw cushions at the dog and after wrestling with them for a while it arranges them in a heap and lets me throw it on top of them, thus demonstrating that simple-minded creatures don't mind-within limits, that is-a little roughhousing-"

            "So that," said O'Mara, gazing reflectively at the ceiling, "is what you do in your spare time..

            Colonel Skempton coughed. He said, "You're playing down your own part in this. Your foresight in stuffing that hulk with tractor and pressor beams...

            "There's just one other thing before I see it off," Conway broke in hastily. "Arretapec heard some of the men calling the patient Emily. It would like to know why."

            "It would," said O'Mara disgustedly. He pursed his lips then went on, "Apparently one of the maintenance men with an appetite for early fiction-the Bronte sisters, Charlotte, Emily and Anne to be exact- dubbed our patient Emily Brontosaurus. I must say that I feel a pathological interest in a mind which thinks like that. . ." O'Mara looked as though there was a bad smell in the room.

            Conway groaned in sympathy. As he turned to go, he thought that his last and hardest job might be in explaining what a pun was to the high-minded Dr. Arretapec.

Next day Arretapec and the dinosaur left, the Monitor transport officer whose job it was to keep the hospital supplied heaved a great sigh of relief, and Conway found himself on ward duty again. But this time he was something more than a medical mechanic. He had been placed in charge of a section of the Nursery, and although he had to use data, drugs and case-histories supplied by Thornnastor, the Diagnostician-in-Charge of Pathology, there was nobody breathing directly down his neck. He could walk through his section and tell himself that these were his wards. And O'Mara had even promised him an assistant...!

            It has been apparent since you first arrived here," the Major had told him, "that you mix more readily with e-ts than with members of your own species. Saddling you with Dr. Arretapec was a test, which you passed with honors, and the assistant I'll be giving you in a few days might be another."

            O'Mara had paused then, shook his head wonderingly and went on, "Not only do you get on exceptionally well with e-ts, but I don't hear a single whisper on the grapevine of you chasing the females of our species . .

            "I don't have the time," said Conway seriously. "I doubt if I ever will."

            "Oh, well, misogyny is an allowable neurosis," O'Mara had replied, then had gone onto discuss the new assistant. Subsequently Conway had returned to his wards and worked much harder than if there had been a Senior Physician breathing down his neck. He was too busy to hear the rumors which began to go around regarding the odd patient who had been admitted to Observation Ward Three.

CHAPTER 4

VISITOR AT LARGE

Despite the vast resources of medical and surgical skill available, resources which were acknowledged second to none anywhere in the civilized Galaxy, there had to be times when a case arrived in Sector General for which nothing whatever could be done. This particular patient was of classification SRTT, which was a physiological type never before encountered in the hospital. It was amoebic, possessed the ability to extrude any limbs, sensory organs or protective tegument necessary to the environment in which it found itself, and was so fantastically adaptable that it was difficult to imagine how one of these beings could ever fall sick in the first place.

            The lack of symptoms was the most baffling aspect of the case. There was in evidence none of the visually alarming growths of malfunctionings to which so many of the extraterrestrial species were prone, nor were there any bacteria present in what could be considered harmful quantities. Instead the patient was simply melting-quietly, cleanly and without fuss or bother, like a piece of ice left in a warm room, its body was literally turning to water. Nothing that was tried had any effect in halting the process and, while they continued their attempts at finding a cure with even greater intensity, the Diagnosticians and lesser doctors in attendance had begun to realize a little sadly that the run of medical miracles produced with such monotonous regularity by Sector Twelve General Hospital was due to be broken.

            And it was for that reason alone that one of the strictest rules of the hospital was temporarily relaxed.

"I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning," said Dr. Conway, trying hard not to stare at the iridescent and not quite atrophied wings of his new assistant. "At Reception, where the problems of admittance are dealt with."

            Conway waited to see if the other had any comments, and continuing to walk in the direction of the stated objective while doing so. Rather than walk beside his companion he maintained a two-yard lead-not out of any wish to give offense but for the simple reason that he was afraid of inflicting severe physical damage on his assistant if he strayed any closer than that.

            The new assistant was a GLNO-six-legged, exoskeletal and insect like, with the empathic faculty-from the planet Cinruss. The gravity pull of its home world was less than one-twelfth Earth-normal, which was the reason for an insect species growing to such size and becoming dominant, so that it wore two anti-G belts to neutralize the attraction which would otherwise have mashed it into ruin against the corridor floor. One neutralizer belt would have been adequate for this purpose, but Conway did not blame the being one bit for wanting to play safe. It was a spindly, awkward-looking and incredibly fragile life-form, and its name was Dr. Prilicla.

            Prilicla had previous experience both in planetary and in the smaller multi-environment hospitals and so was not completely green, Conway had been told, but it would naturally feel at a loss before the size and complexity of Sector General. Conway was to be its guide and mentor for a while and then, when his present period of duty in charge of the nursery was complete, he would hand over Prilicla. Apparently the hospital's Director had decided that light-gravity life-forms with their extreme sensitivity and delicacy of touch would be particularly suited to the care and handling of the more fragile e-t embryos.

            It was a good idea, Conway thought as he hastily interposed himself between Prilicla and a Tralthan intern who lumbered past on six elephantine feet, if the low-gravity life-form in question could survive the association with its more massive and clumsy colleagues.

            "You understand," said Conway as he guided the GLNO toward Reception's control room, "that getting some of the patients into the place is a problem in itself. It isn't so bad with the small ones, but Tralthans, or a forty-foot-long AUGL from Chalderescol. . ." Conway broke off suddenly and said, "Here we are.

            Through a wide, transparent wall section could be seen a room containing three massive control desks, only one of which was currently occupied. The being before it was a Nidian, and a group of indicator lights showed that it had just made contact with a ship approaching the hospital.

            Conway said, "Listen. .

            "Identify yourself, please," said the red teddy bear in its staccato, barking speech, which was filtered through Conway's Translator as flat and toneless English and which came to Prilicla as equally unemotionless Cinrusskin. "Patient, visitor or Staff, and species?"

            "Visitor," came the reply, "and Human."

            There was a second's pause, then: "Give your physiological classification please," said the red-furred receptionist with a wink toward the two watchers. "All intelligent races refer to their own species as human and think of all others as being nonhuman, so that what you call yourself has no meaning. .

Conway only half heard the conversation after that because he was so engrossed in trying to visualize what a being with that classification could look like. The double-T meant that both its shape and physical characteristics were variable, R that it had high heat and pressure tolerance, and the S in that combination. . . If there had not actually been one waiting outside, Conway would not have believed such a weird beastie could exist.

            And the visitor was an important person, apparently, because the receptionist was now busily engaged in passing on the news of its arrival to various beings within the hospital-most of whom were Diagnosticians, no less. All at once Conway was intensely curious to see this highly unusual being, but thought that he would not be showing a very good example to Prilicla if he dashed off on a rubbernecking expedition when they had work to do elsewhere. Also, his assistant was still very much an unknown quantity where Conway was concerned-Prilicla might be one of those touchy individuals who held that to look at a member of another species for no other reason than to satisfy mere curiosity was a grievous insult...

            "If it would not interfere with more urgent duties," broke in the flat, translated voice of Prilicla, "I would very much like to see this visitor."

            Bless you! thought Conway, but outwardly pretended to mull over the latter. Finally he said, "Normally I could not allow that, but as the lock where the SRTT is entering is not far from here and there is some time to spare before we are due at our wards, I expect it will be all right to indulge your curiosity just this once. Please follow me, Doctor."

            As he waved goodbye to the furry receptionist, Conway thought that it was a very good thing that Pricilla's Translator was incapable of transferring the strongly ironic content of those last words, so that the other was not aware what a rise Conway was taking out of him. And then suddenly he stopped in his mental tracks. Prilicla, he realized uncomfortably, was an empath. The being had not said very much since they had met a short time ago, but everything that it had said had backed up Conway's feelings in the particular matter under discussion. His new assistant was not a telepath-it could not read thoughts-but it was sensitive to feelings and emotions and would therefore have been aware of Conway's curiosity.

            Conway felt like kicking himself for forgetting that empathic faculty, and wryly wondered just who had been taking the rise out of which.

            He had to console himself with the thought that at least he was agreeable, and not like some of the people he had been attached to recently like Dr. Arretapec.

Lock Six, where the SRTT was to be admitted, could have been reached in a few minutes if Conway had used the shortcut through the water filled corridor leading to the AUGL operating room and across the surgical ward of the chlorine-breathing PVSJs. But it would have meant donning one of the lightweight diving suits for protection, and while he could climb in and out of such a suit in no time at all, he very much doubted if the ultra-leggy Prilicla could do so. They therefore had to take the long way round, and hurry.

            At one point a Tralthan wearing the gold-edged armband of a Diagnostician and an Earth-human maintenance engineer overtook them, the FGLI charging along like a runaway tank and the Earthman having to trot to keep up. Conway and Prilicla stood aside respectfully to allow the Diagnostician to pass-as well as to avoid being flattened-and then continued. A scrap of overheard conversation identified the two beings as part of the arriving SRTT's reception committee, and from the somewhat caustic tone of the Earth-human's remarks it was obvious that the visitor had arrived earlier than expected.

            When they turned a corner a few seconds later and came within sight of the great entry lock Conway saw a sight which made him smile in spite of himself. Three corridors converged on the antechamber of Lock Six on this level as well as two others on upper and lower levels which reached it via sloping ramps, and figures were hurrying along each one. As well as the Tralthan and Earthman who had just passed them there was another Tralthan, two of the DBLF caterpillars and a spiny, membranous Illensan in a transparent protective suit-who had just emerged from the adjacent chlorine-filled corridor of the PVSJ section-all heading for the inner seal of the big Lock, already swinging open on the expected visitor. To Conway it seemed to be a wildly ludicrous situation, and he had a sudden mental picture of the whole crazy menagerie of them coming together with a crash in the same spot at the same time.

            Then while he was still smiling at the thought, comedy changed swiftly and without warning to tragedy.

As the visitor entered the antechamber and the seal closed behind it Conway saw something that was a little like a crocodile with horn-tipped tentacles and a lot like nothing he had ever seen before. He saw the being shrink away from the figures hurrying to meet it, then suddenly dart toward the PVSJ-who was, Conway was to remember later, both the nearest and the smallest. Everybody seemed to be shouting at once then, so much so that Conway's and presumably everyone else's Translators went into an ear-piercing squeal of oscillation through sheer overload.

            Faced by the teeth and hard-tipped tentacles of the charging visitor the Illensan PVSJ, no doubt thinking of the flimsiness of the envelope which held its life-saving chlorine around it, fled back into the intercorridor lock for the safety of its own section. The visitor, its way suddenly blocked by a Tralthan booming unheard reassurances at it, turned suddenly and scuttled for the same airlock.

            All such locks were fitted with rapid action controls in case of emergency, controls which caused one door to open and the other to shut simultaneously instead of waiting for the chamber to be evacuated and refilled with the required atmosphere. The PVSJ, with the berserk visitor close behind it and its suit already torn by the SRTT's teeth so that it was in imminent danger of dying from oxygen poisoning, rightly considered his case to be an emergency and activated the rapid-action controls. It was perhaps too frightened to notice that the visitor was not completely into the lock, and that when the inner door opened the outer one would neatly cut the visitor in two...

            There was so much shouting and confusion around the lock that Conway did not see who the quick-thinking person was who saved the visitor's life by pressing yet another emergency button, the one which caused both doors to open together. This action kept the SRTT from being cut in two, but there was now a direct opening into the PVSJ section from which billowed thick, yellow clouds of chlorine gas. Before Conway could react, contamination detectors in the corridor walls touched off the alarm siren and simultaneously closed the air-tight doors in the immediate vicinity, and they were all neatly trapped.

For a wild moment Conway fought the urge to run to the air-tight doors and beat on them with his fists. Then he thought of plunging through that poisonous fog to another intersection lock which was on the other side of it. But he could see a maintenance man and one of the DBLF caterpillars in it already, both so overcome with chlorine that Conway doubted if they could live long enough to put on the suits. Could he, he wondered sickly, get over there? The lock chamber also contained helmets good for ten minutes or so-that was demanded by the safety regulations-but to do it he would have to hold his breath for at least three minutes and keep his eyes jammed shut, because if he got a single whiff of that gas or it got at his eyes he would be helplessly disabled. But how could he pass that heaving, struggling mass of Tralthan legs and tentacles spread across the corridor floor while groping about with his eyes shut...

            The fear-filled chaos of his thoughts was interrupted by Prilicla, who said, "Chlorine is lethal to my species. Please excuse me.

            Prilicla was doing something peculiar to itself. The long, many jointed legs were waving and jerking about as though performing some weird ritual dance and two of the four manipulatory appendages-whose possession was the reason for its species' fame as surgeons-were doing complicated things with what looked like rolls of transparent plastic sheeting. Conway did not see exactly how it happened but suddenly his GLNO assistant was swathed in a loose, transparent cover through which protruded its six legs and two manipulators-its body, wings and other two members, which were busily engaged in spraying sealing solution on the

leg openings, were completely covered by it. The loose covering bellied out and became taut, proving that it was air-tight.

            "I didn't know you had.. ." Conway began, then with a surge of hope bursting up within him he gabbled, "Listen. Do exactly as I tell you. You've got to get me a helmet, quickly..

            But the hope died just as suddenly before he finished giving the GLNO his instructions. Prilicla could doubtless find a helmet for him, but how could the being ever hope to make it to the lock where they were kept through that struggling mass on the floor between. One blow could tear off a leg or cave in that flimsy exoskeleton like an eggshell. He couldn't ask the GLNO to do it, it would be murder.

            He was about to cancel all previous instructions and tell the GLNO to stay put and save itself when Prilicla dashed across the corridor floor, ran diagonally up the wall and disappeared into the chlorine fog traveling along the ceiling. Conway reminded himself that many insect life-forms possessed sucker-tipped feet and began to feel hopeful again, so much so that other sensations began to register.

Close beside him the wall annunciator was informing everyone in the hospital that there was contamination in the region of Lock Six, while below it the intercom unit was emitting red light and harsh buzzing sounds as somebody in Maintenance Division tried to find out whether or not the contaminated area was occupied. The drifting gas was almost on him as Conway snatched at the intercom mike.

            "Quiet and listen!" he shouted. "Conway here, at Lock Six. Two FGLIs, two DBLFs, one DBDG all with chlorine poisoning not yet fatal. One PVSJ in damaged protective suit with oxy-poisoning and possibly other injuries, and one up there-"

            A sudden stinging sensation in the eyes made Conway drop the mike hurriedly. He backed away until stopped by the airtight door and watched the yellow mist creep nearer. He could see practically nothing of what was going on down the corridor now, and an agonizing eternity seemed to go by before the spindly shape of Prilicla came swinging along the ceiling above him.

The helmet which Prilicla brought was in a reality a mask, a mask with a self-contained air supply which, when in position, adhered firmly along the edge of the hair line, cheeks and lower jaw. Its air was good only for a very limited time-ten minutes or so-but with it on and the danger of death temporarily removed, Conway discovered that he could think much more clearly.

            His first action was to go through the still open intersection lock. The PVSJ inside it was motionless and with the gray blush, the beginning of a type of skin cancer, spreading over its body. To the PVSJ life-form oxygen was vicious stuff. As gently as possible he dragged the Illensan into its own section and to a nearby storage compartment which he remembered being there. Pressure in this section was slightly greater than that maintained for warm-blooded oxygen-breathers so that where the PVSJ was concerned the air here was reasonably pure. Conway shut it in the compartment, after first grabbing an armful of the woven plastic sheets, in this section the equivalent of bed linen. There was no sign of the SRTT.

            Back in the other corridor he explained to Prilicla what he wanted done-the Earth-human he had seen earlier had succeeded in donning his suit, but was blundering about, eyes streaming and coughing violently and was obviously incapable of giving any assistance. Conway picked his way around the weakly moving or unconscious bodies to the seal of Lock Six and opened it. There was a neatly racked row of air-bottles on the wall inside. He lifted down two of them and staggered out.

            Prilicla had one unconscious form already covered with a sheet. Conway cracked the valve of an air-bottle and slid it under the covering, then watched as the plastic sheet bellied and rippled slightly with the air being released underneath it. It was the crudest possible form of oxygen tent, Conway thought, but the best that could be done at the moment. He left for more bottles.

            After the third trip Conway began to notice the warning signs. He was sweating profusely, his head was splitting and big black splotches were beginning to blot out his vision-his air supply was running out. It was high time he took off the emergency helmet, stuck his own head under a sheet like the others and waited for the rescuers to arrive. He took a few steps toward the nearest sheeted figure, and the floor hit him. His heart was banging thunderously in his chest, his lungs were on fire and all at once he didn't even have the strength to pull off the helmet...

            Conway was forced from his state of deep and oddly comfortable unconsciousness by pain: something was making strong and repeated attempts to cave in his chest. He stuck it just as long as he could, then opened his eyes and said, "Get off me, dammit, I'm all right!"

            The hefty intern who had been enthusiastically engaged in giving Conway artificial respiration climbed to his feet. He said, "When we arrived, daddy-longlegs here said you had ceased to emote. I was worried about you for a moment-well, slightly worried." He grinned and added, "If you can walk and talk, O'Mara wants to see you.

            Conway grunted and rose to his feet. Blowers and filtering apparatus had been set up in the corridor and were rapidly clearing the air of the last vestiges of chlorine and the casualties were being removed, some on tented stretcher-carriers and others being assisted by their rescuers. He fingered the raw area of forehead caused by the hurried removal of his helmet and took a few great gulps of air just to reassure himself that the nightmare of a few minutes ago was really over.

            "Thank you, Doctor," he said feelingly.

            "Don't mention it, Doctor," said the intern.

They found O'Mara in the Educator Room. The Chief Psychologist wasted no time on preliminaries. He pointed to a chair for Conway and indicated a sort of surrealistic wastepaper basket to Prilicla and barked, "What happened?"

            The room was in shadow except for the glow of indicator lights on the Educator equipment and a single lamp on O'Mara's desk. All Conway could see of the psychologist as he began his story was two hard, competent hands projecting from the sleeves of a dark green uniform and a pair of steady gray eyes in a shadowed face. The hands did not move and the eyes never left him while Conway was speaking.

            When he was finished O'Mara sighed and was silent for several seconds, then he said, "There were four of our top Diagnosticians at Lock Six just then, beings this hospital could ill afford to lose. The prompt action you took certainly saved at least three of their lives, so you're a couple of heroes. But I'll spare your blushes and not belabor that point. Neither," he added dryly, "will I embarrass you by asking what you were doing there in the first place."

            Conway coughed. He said, "What I'd like to know is why the SRTT ran amok like that. Because of the crowd running to meet it, I'd say, except that no intelligent, civilized being would behave like that. The only visitors we allow here are either government people or visiting specialists, neither of which are the type to be scared at the sight of an alien life form. And why so many Diagnosticians to meet it in the first place?"

            "They were there," replied O'Mara, "because they were anxious to see what an SRTT looked like when it was not trying to look like something else. This data might have aided them in a case they are working on. Also, with a hitherto unknown life-form like that it is impossible to guess at what made it act as it did. And finally, it is not the type of visitor which we allow here, but we had to break the rules this time because its parent is in the hospital, a terminal case.

            Conway said softly, "I see.

            A Monitor Lieutenant came into the room at that point and hurried across to O'Mara. "Excuse me, sir," he said. "I've been able to find one item which may help us with the search for the visitor. A DBLF nurse reports seeing a PVSJ moving away from the area of the accident at about the right time. To one of the DBLF caterpillars the PVSJs are anything but pretty, as you know, but the nurse says that this one looked worse than usual, a real freak. So much so that the DBLF was sure that it was a patient suffering from something pretty terrible-"

            "You checked that we have no PVSJ suffering from the malady described?"

            "Yes, sir. There is no such case."

            O'Mara looked suddenly grim. He said, "Very good, Carson, you know what to do next," and nodded dismissal.

Conway had been finding it hard to contain himself during the conversation, and with the departure of the Lieutenant he burst out, "The thing I saw come out of the air-lock had tentacles and.., and... Well, it wasn't anything like a PVSJ. I know that an SRTT is able to modify its physical structure, of course, but so radically and in such a short time...

            Abruptly O'Mara stood up. He said, "We know practically nothing about this life-form-its needs, capabilities or emotional response patterns-and it is high time we found out. I'm going to build a fire under Colinson in Communications to see what he can dig up; environment, evolutionary background, cultural and social influences and so on. We can't have a visitor running around loose like this, it's bound to make a nuisance of itself through sheer ignorance.

            "But what I want you two to do is this," he went on. "Keep an eye open for any odd-looking patients or embryos in the Nursery sections. Lieutenant Carson has just left to get on the PA and make these instructions general. If you do find somebody who may be our SRTT approach them gently. Be reassuring, make no sudden moves and be sure to avoid confusing it, that only one of you talks at once. And contact me immediately."

            When they were outside again Conway decided that nothing further could be done in the current work period, and postponing the rounds of their wards for another hour, led the way to the vast room which served as a dining hall for all the warm-blooded oxygen-breathers on the hospital's Staff. The place was, as usual, crowded, and although it was divided up into sections for the widely variant life-forms present, Conway could see many tables where three or four different classifications had come together-with extreme discomfort for some-to talk shop.

            Conway pointed out a vacant table to Prilicla and began working toward it, only to have his assistant-aided by its still functional wings- get there before him and in time to foil two maintenance men making for the same spot. A few heads turned during this fifty yard flight, but only briefly-the diners were used to much stranger sights than that.

            "I expect most of our food is suited to your metabolism," said Conway when he was seated, "but do you have any special preferences?"

            Prilicla had, and Conway nearly choked when he heard them. But it was not the combination of well-cooked spaghetti and raw carrots that was so bad, it was the way the GLNO set about eating the spaghetti when it arrived. With all four eating appendages working furiously Prilicla wove it into a sort of rope which was passed into the being's beak-like mouth. Conway was not usually affected by this sort of thing, but the sight was definitely doing things to his stomach.

            Suddenly Prilicla stopped. "My method of ingestion is disturbing you," it said. "I will go to another table-"

            "No, no," said Conway quickly, realizing that his feelings had been picked up by the empath. "That won't be necessary, I assure you. But it is a point of etiquette here that, whenever it is possible, a being dining in mixed company uses the same eating tools as its host or senior at the table. Er, do you think you could manage a fork?"

            Prilicla could manage a fork. Conway had never seen spaghetti disappear so fast.

            From the subject of food the talk drifted not too unnaturally to the hospital's Diagnosticians and the Educator Tape system without which these august beings-and indeed the whole hospital-could not function.

            Diagnosticians deservedly had the respect and admiration of everyone in the hospital-and a certain amount of the pity as well. For it was not simply knowledge which the Educator gave them, the whole personality of the entity who had possessed that knowledge was impressed on their brains as well. In effect the Diagnostician subjected himself or itself voluntarily to the most drastic type of multiple schizophrenia, and with the alien other components sharing their minds so utterly different in every respect that they often did not even share the same system of logic.

            Their one and only common denominator was the need of all doctors, regardless of size, shape or number of legs, to cure the sick.

            There was a DBDG Earth-human Diagnostician at a table nearby who was visibly having to force himself to eat a perfectly ordinary steak. Conway happened to know that this man was engaged on a case which necessitated using a large amount of the knowledge contained in the Tralthan physiology tape which he had been given. The use of this knowledge had brought into prominence within his mind the personality of the Tralthan who had furnished the brain record, and Tralthans abhorred meat in all its forms..

IV

After lunch Conway took Prilicla to the first of the wards to which they were assigned, and on the way continued to reel off more statistics and background information. The Hospital comprised three hundred and eighty-four levels and accurately reproduced the environments of the sixty-eight different forms of intelligent life currently known to the Galactic Federation. Conway was not trying to cow Prilicla with the vastness of the great hospital nor to boast, although he was intensely proud of the fact that he had gained a post in this very famous establishment. It was simply that he was uneasy about his assistant's means of protecting itself against the conditions it would shortly meet, and this was his way of working around to the subject.

            But he need not have worried, for Prilicla demonstrated how the light, almost diaphanous, suit which had saved it at Lock Six could be strengthened from inside by a scaled-down adaptation of the type of force-field used as meteorite protection of interstellar ships. When necessary its legs could be folded so as to be within the protective covering as well, instead of projecting outside it as they had done at the lock.

            While they were changing prior to entering the AUGL Nursery Ward, which was their first call, Conway began filling in his assistant on the case history of the occupants.

            The fully-grown physiological type AUGL was a forty foot long, oviparous, armored fish-like life-form native of Chalderescol II, but the beings now in the ward for observation had been hatched only six weeks ago and measured only three feet. Two previous hatchings by the same mother had, as had this one, been in all respects normal and with the offspring seemingly in perfect health, yet two months later they had all died. A PM performed on their home world gave the cause of death as extreme calcification of the articular cartilage in practically every joint in the body, but had been unable to shed any light on the cause of death. Now Sector General was keeping a watchful eye on the latest hatching, and Conway was hoping that it would be a case of third time lucky.

            "At present I look them over every day," Conway went on, "and on every third day take an AUGL tape and give them a thorough checkup. Now that you are assisting me this will also apply to you. But when you take this tape I'd advise you to have it erased immediately after the examination, unless you would like to wander around for the rest of the day with half of your brain convinced that you are a fish and wanting to act accordingly..."

            "That would be an intriguing but no doubt confusing hybrid," agreed Prilicla. The GLNO was now enclosed completely-with the exception of two manipulators-in the bubble of its protective suit, which it had weighted sufficiently for it not to be hampered by too much buoyancy. Seeing that Conway was also ready, it operated the lock controls, and as they entered the great tank of warm, greenish water that was the AUGL ward it added, "Are the patients responding to treatment?"

            Conway shook his head. Then realizing that the gesture probably meant nothing to the GLNO he said, "We are still at the exploratory stage-treatment has not yet begun. But I've had a few ideas, which I can't properly discuss with you until we both take the AUGL tape tomorrow and am fairly certain that two of our three patients will come through-in effect, one of them will have to be used as a guinea-pig in order to save the others. The symptoms appear and develop very quickly," he continued, "which is why I want such a close watch kept on them. Now that the danger point is so close I think I'll make it three-hourly, and we'll work out a timetable so's neither of us will miss too much sleep. You see, the quicker we spot the first symptoms the more time we have to act and the greater the possibility of saving all three of them. I'm very keen to do the hat-trick."

Prilicla wouldn't know what a hat-trick was either, Conway thought, but the being would quickly learn how to interpret his nods, gestures and figures of speech-Conway had had to do the same in his early days with e-t superiors, sometimes wondering fulminating why somebody did not make a tape on Alien Esoterics to aid junior interns in his position. But these were only surface thoughts. At the back of his mind, so steady and so sharp that it might have been painted there, was the picture of a young, almost embryonic life-form whose developing exoskeleton-the hundred or so flat, bony plates normally free to slide or move on flexible hinges of cartilage so as to allow mobility and breathing-was about to become a petrified fossil imprisoning, for a very short time, the frantic consciousness within...

            "How can I assist you at the moment?" asked Prilicla, bringing Conway's mind back from near future to present time with a rush. The GLNO was eyeing the three thin, streamlined shapes darting about the great tank and obviously wondering how it was going to stop one long enough to examine it. It added, "They're fast, aren't they?"

            "Yes, and very fragile," said Conway. "Also they are so young that for present purposes they can be considered mindless. They frighten easily and any attempt to approach them closely sends them into such a panic that they swim madly about until exhausted or injure themselves against the tank walls. What we have to do is lay a minefield. .

            Quickly Conway explained and demonstrated how to place a pattern of anesthetic bulbs which dissolved in the water and how, gently and at a distance, to maneuver their elusive patients through it. Later, while they were examining the three small, unconscious forms and Conway saw how sensitive and precise was the touch of Prilicla's manipulators and the corresponding sharpness of the GLNQ's mind, his hopes for all three of the infant AUGLs increased.

            They left the warm and to Conway rather pleasant environment of the AUGLs for the "hot" ward of their section. This time the checking of the occupants was done with the aid of remote-controlled mechanisms from behind twenty feet of shielding. There was nothing of an urgent nature in this ward, and before leaving Conway pointed out the complicated masses of plumbing surrounding it. The maintenance division he explained, used the "hot" ward as a stand-by power pile to light and heat the hospital.

            Constantly in the background the wall annunciators kept droning out the progress of the search for the SRTT visitor. It had not been found yet, and cases of mistaken identity and of beings seeing things were mounting steadily. Conway had not thought much about the SRTT since leaving O'Mara, but now he was beginning to feel a little anxious at the thought of what the runaway visitor might do in this section especially- not to mention what some of the infant patients might do to it. If only he knew more about it, had some idea of its militations. He decided to call O'Mara.

            In reply to Conway's request the Chief Psychologist said, "Our latest information is that the SRTT life-form evolved on a planet with an eccentric orbit around its primary. Geologic, climatic and temperature changes were such that a high degree of adaptability was necessary for survival. Before they attained a civilization their means of defense was either to assume as frightening an aspect as possible or to copy the physical form of their attackers in the hope that they would escape detection in this way-protective mimicry being the favorite method of avoiding danger, and so often used that the process had become almost involuntary. There are some other items regarding mass and dimensions at different ages. They are a very long-lived species-and this not particularly helpful collection of data, which was digested from the report of the survey ship which discovered the planet, ends by saying that all the foregoing is for our information only and that these beings do not take sick."

            O'Mara paused briefly, then added, "Hah!"

            "I agree," said Conway.

            "One item we have which might explain its panicking on arrival," O'Mara went on, "is that it is their custom for the very youngest to be present at the death of a parent rather than the eldest-there is an unusually strong emotional bond between parent and last-born. Estimates of mass place our runaway as being very young. Not a baby, of course, but definitely nowhere near maturity."

            Conway was still digesting this when the Major continued, "As to its limitations, I'd say that the Methane section is too cold for it and the radioactive wards too hot-also that glorified turkish bath on level Eighteen where they breathe super-heated steam. Apart from those, your guess is as good as mine where it may turn up.

            "It might help a little if I could see this SRTT's parent," Conway said. "Is that possible?"

            There was a lengthy pause, then: "Just barely," said O'Mara dryly. "The immediate vicinity of that patient is literally crawling with Diagnosticians and other high-powered talent... But come up after you've finished your rounds and I'll try to fix it."

            "Thank you, sir," said Conway and broke the circuit.

            He still felt a vague uneasiness about the SRTT visitor, a dark premonition that he had not yet finished with this e-t juvenile delinquent who was the ultimate in quick-change artists. Maybe, he thought sourly, his current duties had brought out the mother in him, but at the thought of the havoc which that SRTT could cause-the damage to equipment and fittings, the interruption of important and closely-timed courses of treatment and the physical injury, perhaps even death, to the more fragile life-forms through its ignorant blundering about-Conway felt himself go a little sick.

            For the failure to capture the runaway had made plain one very disquieting fact, and that was that the SRTT was not too young and immature not to know how to work the intersection locks...

            Half angrily, Conway pushed these useless anxieties to the back of his mind and began explaining to Prilicla about the patients in the ward they were going to visit next, and the protective measures and examinative procedures necessary when handling them.

This ward contained twenty-eight infants of the FROB classification- low, squat, immensely strong beings with a horny covering that was like flexible armor plate. Adults of the species with their increased mass tended to be slow and ponderous, but the infants could move surprisingly fast despite the condition of four times Earth-normal gravity and pressure in which they lived. Heavy-duty suits were called for in these conditions and the floor level of the ward was never used by visiting physicians or nursing staff except in cases of the gravest emergency. Patients for examination were raised from the floor by a grab and lifting apparatus to the cupola set in the ceiling for this purpose, where they were anesthetized before the grab was released. This was done with a long, extremely strong needle which was inserted at the point where the inner side of the foreleg joined the trunk-one of the very few soft spots on the FROB's body.

.....       I expect you to break a lot of needles before you get the hang of it," Conway added, "but don't worry about that, or think that you are hurting them. These little darlings are so tough that if a bomb went off beside them they would hardly blink."

            Conway was silent for a few seconds while they walked briskly toward the FROB ward-Prilicla's six, multi-jointed and pencil-thin legs seeming to spread out all over the place, but somehow never actually getting underfoot. He no longer felt that he was walking on eggs when he was near the GLNO, or that the other would crumple up and blow away if he so much as brushed against it. Prilicla had demonstrated its ability to avoid all contacts likely to be physically harmful to it in a way which, now that Conway was becoming accustomed to it, was both dexterous and strangely graceful.

            A man, he thought, could get used to working with anything.

            "But to get back to our thick-skinned little friends," Conway resumed, "physical toughness in that species-especially in the younger age groups-is not accompanied by resistance to germ or virus infections. Later they develop the necessary antibodies and as adults are disgustingly healthy, but in the infant stage..

            "They catch everything," Prilicla put in. "And as soon as a new disease is discovered they get that, too."

            Conway laughed. "I was forgetting that most e-t hospitals have their quota of FROBs and that you may already have had experience with them. You will know also that these diseases are rarely fatal to the infants, but that their cure is long, complicated, and not very rewarding, because they straightaway catch something else. None of our twenty-eight cases here are serious, and the reason that they are here rather than at a local hospital is that we are trying to produce a sort of shotgun serum which will artificially induce in them the immunity to infection which will eventually be theirs in later life and so . . . Stop!"

            The word was sharp, low and urgent, a shouted whisper. Prilicla froze, its sucker-tipped legs gripping the corridor floor, and stared along with Conway at the being who had just appeared at the intersection ahead of them.

At first glance it looked like an Illensan. The shapeless, spiny body with the dry, rustling membrane joining upper and lower appendages belonged unmistakably to the PVSJ chlorine-breathers. But there were two eating tentacles which seemed to have been transplanted from an FGLI, a furry breast pad which was pure DBLF and it was breathing, as they were, an atmosphere rich in oxygen.

            It could only be the runaway.

            All the laws of physiology to the contrary Conway felt his heart battering at the back of his throat somewhere as, remembering O'Mara's strict orders not to frighten the being, he tried to think of something friendly and reassuring to say. But the SRTT took off immediately it caught sign of them, and all Conway could find to say was, "Quick, after it!"

            At a dead run they reached the intersection and turned into the corridor taken by the fleeing SRTT, Prilicla scuttling along the ceiling again to keep out of the way of Conway's pounding feet. But the sight in front of them caused Conway to forget all about being gentle and reassuring, and he yelled, "Stop, you fool! Don't go in there...!"

            The runaway was at the entrance to the FROB ward.

            They reached the entry lock just too late and watched helplessly through the port as the SRTT opened the inner seal and, gripped by the four times normal gravity pull of the ward, was flung down out of sight. The inner door closed automatically then, allowing Prilicla and Conway to enter the lock and prepare for the environment within the ward.

            Conway struggled frantically into the heavy duty suit which he kept in the lock chamber and quickly set the repulsion of its anti-gravity belt to compensate for the conditions inside. Prilicla, meanwhile, was doing similar things to its own equipment. While checking the seals and fastenings of the suit, and swearing at this very necessary waste of time, Conway could see through the inner inspection window a sight which made him shudder.

            The pseudo-Illensan shape of the SRTT lay plastered against the floor. It was twitching slightly, and already one of the larger FROB infants was coming pounding up to investigate this odd-looking object. One of the great, spatulate feet must have trod on the recumbent SRTT, because it jerked away and began rapidly and incredibly to change. The weak, membranous appendages of the PVSJ seemed to dissolve into the main body which became the bony, lizard-like form with the wicked, horn-tipped tentacles which they had seen first at Lock Six. This was obviously the SRTT's most frightening manifestation.

            But the infant FROB possessed nearly five times the other's mass and so could hardly be expected to be frightened. It put down its massive head and butted, sending the SRTT crashing against the wall plating twenty feet across the ward. The FROB wanted to play.

            Both doctors were out of the lock and onto the ceiling catwalk now, where the view was much clearer. The SRTT was changing again, fast. The tentacled lizard shape had not worked at all well for it in four-C conditions against these infant behemoths and it was trying something else.

            The FROB had closed in on it again and was watching fascinated.

V

Conway said urgently, "Doctor, can you handle the grab apparatus? Good! Then go to it. . ." As Prilicla scurried along the catwalk to the control cupola Conway set his anti-gravity controls to zero and called, "I'll direct you from below." Weightless now, he kicked himself toward the floor.

            But Conway was no stranger to the FROB infant-very probably it disliked or was bored by this diminutive figure whose only game was that of sticking big needles in it while something big and strong held it still, and despite all of Conway's frantic shouting and arm-waving he found himself being ignored. But the other occupants of the ward were taking an interest, and their attention was being drawn to the still-changing

SRTT...

            "No!" Conway shouted, aghast at what the visitor was changing into. "No! Stop! Change back...

            But it was too late. The whole ward seemed to be stampeding toward the SRTT, giving vent to a thunderous bedlam of excited growls and yelps which, from the older infants, were Translated into shouts of "Dolly! Dolly! Nice dolly "'

            Springing upward to avoid being trampled, Conway looked down on the milling mass of FROBs and felt the strong and sickening conviction that the luckless SRTT had departed this life. But no. The being had somehow managed to run-or squeeze-the gauntlet of stamping feet and eager, bludgeoning heads by keeping low and tightly pressed against the wall. It emerged battered but still in the shape which it had, chameleon-like, adopted in the mistaken idea that a tiny version of an FROB would be safe.

            Conway called, "Quickly! Grab!"

            But Prilicla was not sleeping on its job. The massive jaws of the grab were already hanging open above the dazed and slow-moving SRTT, and as Conway shouted they dropped and crashed shut. Conway sprang for one of the lifting cables and as they rose from the floor together he said hurriedly, "You're safe now. Relax. I'm here to help you..

            His reply was a sharp convulsion of the SRTT which nearly shook him loose, and suddenly the being had become a thing of lithe, oily convolutions which slipped between the fingers of the grab and slapped onto the floor. The FROBs hooted excitedly and charged again.

            It could not possibly survive this time, Conway thought with a mixture of horror, pity and impatience; this being who had had one fright on arrival and who had not stopped running since, and who was still too utterly terrified even to be helped. The grab was useless but there was one other possibility. O'Mara would probably skin him alive for it, but he would at least be saving SRTT's life for the time being if he allowed it to escape.

            On the wall opposite the entry lock which Prilicla and himself had used was the door through which the FROB patients were brought to the ward. It was a simple door because the corridor outside it, which led to the FROB operating theater, was maintained at the same level of gravity and pressure as was the ward. Conway dived across the intervening space to the controls and slid it open, watching the SRTT-who was not so insensible with fear that it missed seeing this way of escape-as it slithered through. He closed it again just in time to prevent some of the patients from getting out as well, then made for the control cupola to report the whole ghastly mess to O'Mara.

            For the situation was now much worse than they all had thought. While he had been at the other end of the ward he had seen something which increased the difficulties of catching and pacifying the runaway many, many times, and which explained the visitor's lack of response to him while in the grab. It had been the shattered, trampled ruin of the SRTT's Translator pack.

            Conway's hand was on the intercom switch when Prilicla said, "Excuse me, sir, but does my ability to detect your emotions cause you mental distress? Or does mentioning aloud what I may have found trouble you?"

            "Eh? What?" said Conway. He thought that he must be radiating impatience at a furious rate at the moment, because his assistant had picked a great time to start asking questions like that! His first impulse was to cut the other off, but then he decided that delaying his report to O'Mara by a few seconds would not make any difference, and possibly Prilicla considered the matter important. Aliens were funny.

            "No to both questions," Conway replied shortly. "Though in the second instance I might be embarrassed if you made known your findings to a third party in certain circumstances. Why do you ask?"

            "Because I have been aware of your deep anxiety regarding the possible depredations of this SRTT among your patients," Prilicla said, "and I am loath to further increase that anxiety by telling you of the type and intensity of the emotions which I detected just now in the being's mind."

            Conway sighed. "Spit it out, things couldn't be much worse than they are now...

            But they could and were.

When Prilicla finished speaking Conway pulled his hand away from the intercom switch as though it had grown teeth and bit him. "I can't tell him that over the intercom!" he burst out. "It would be sure to leak to the patients and if they, or even some of the Staff knew about it, there would be a panic." He dithered for a moment, then cried, "Come on, we've got to see O'Mara!"

            But the Chief Psychologist was not in his office or in the nearby Educator room. However, information supplied by one of his assistants sent them hurrying to the forty-seventh level and Observation Ward Three.

            This was a vast, high-ceilinged room maintained at a pressure and temperature suited to warm-blooded oxygen-breathers. DBDG, DBLF and FGLI doctors carried out preliminary examinations here on the more puzzling or exotic cases-the patients, if these atmospheric conditions did not suit them, being housed in large, transparent cubicles spaced at intervals around the walls and floor. It was known irreverently as the Punch and Ponder department and Conway could see a group of medics of all shapes and species gathered around a glass-walled tank in the middle of the ward. This must be the older and dying SRTT he had heard about, but he had no attention to spare for anything until he had spoken to O'Mara.

            He caught sight of the psychologist at a communications desk beside the wall and hurried over.

            While he talked O'Mara listened stolidly, several times opening his mouth as though to interrupt, then each time closing it in a grimmer, tighter line. But when Conway reached the point where he had seen the broken Translator, O'Mara waved him to silence and hit the intercom switch with the same jerky motion of his hand.

            "Get me Engineering Division, Colonel Skempton," he barked. Then:

"Colonel, our runaway is in the FROB nursery area. But there is a complication, I'm afraid-it has lost its Translator. . ." There was a short pause, then: "Neither do I know how I expect you to pacify it when you can't communicate, but do what you can in the meantime-I'm going to work on the communication angle now.

            He snapped the switch off and then on again, and said, "Colinson, in Communications.., hello, Major. I want a relay between here and the Monitor Survey team on the SRTT's home planet-yes, the one I had you collecting about a few hours ago. Will you arrange that? And have them prepare a sound tape in the SRTT native language-I'll give you the wording I want in a moment-and have them relay it here. The substance of the speech, which must be obtained from an adult SRTT, will have to be roughly as follows-"

            He broke off as Major Colinson's voice erupted from the speaker. The communications man was reminding a certain desk-bound headshrinker that the SRTT planet was halfway across the Galaxy, that subspace radio was susceptible to interference just like any other kind and that by the time every sun in the intervening distance had splattered the signal with their share of static it would be virtually unintelligible.

            "Have them repeat the signal," O'Mara said. "There are sure to be usable words and phrases which we can piece together to reconstruct the original message. We need this thing badly, and I'll tell you why..

The SRTT species were an extremely long-lived race, O'Mara explained quickly, who reproduced hermaphroditically at very great intervals and with great pain and effort. There was therefore a bond of great affection and-what was more important in the present circumstances-discipline between the adults and children of the species. There was also the belief, so strong as to be almost a certainty, that no matter what changes a member of this species worked it would always try to retain the vocal and aural organs which allowed it to communicate with its fellows.

            Now if one of the adults on the home planet could prepare a few general remarks directed toward youths who misbehaved when they ought to have known better, and these were relayed to Sector General and in turn played over the PA to their runaway visitor, then the young SRTT's ingrained obedience to its elders would do the rest.

And that," said O'Mara to Conway as he switched off, "should take care of that little crisis. With any luck we'll have our visitor quieted down within a few hours. So your troubles are over, you can relax..

            The psychologist broke off at the expression on Conway's face, then he said softly, "There's more?"

            Conway nodded. Indicating his assistant he said, "Dr. Prilicla detected it, by empathy. You must understand that the runaway is in a very bad way psychologically-grief for its dying parent, the fright it received at Lock Six when everyone came charging at it, and now the mauling it has undergone in the FROB nursery. It is young, immature, and these experiences have thrown it back to the stage where its responses are purely animal and.., well..." Conway licked dry lips, ..... has anyone calculated how long it has been since that SRTT has eaten?"

            The implications of the question were not lost on O'Mara either. He paled suddenly and snatched up the mike again. "Get me Skempton again, quickly! ... Skempton? . . . Colonel, I am not trying to sound melodramatic but would you use the scrambler attached to your set, there is another complication. .

Turning away, Conway debated with himself whether to go over for a brief look at the dying SRTT or hurry back to his section. Back in the FROB nursery Prilicla had detected in the runaway's mind strong hunger radiation as well as the expected fear and confusion, and it had been the communication of these findings which had caused first Conway, then O'Mara and Skempton to realize just what a deadly menace the visitor had become. The youths of any species are notoriously selfish, cruel and uncivilized, Conway knew, and driven by steadily increasing pangs of hunger this one would certainly turn cannibal. In its present confused mental state the young SRTT would probably not know that it had done so, but that fact would make no difference at all to the patients concerned.

            If only the majority of Conway's charges were not so small, defenseless and.., tasty.

            On the other hand a look at the elder being might suggest some method of dealing with the younger-his curiosity regarding the SRTT terminal case having nothing to do with it, of course...

            He was maneuvering for a closer look at the patient inside the tank and at the same time trying not to jostle the Earth-human doctor who was blocking his view, when the man turned irritably and asked, "Why the blazes don't you climb up my back?... Oh, hello, Conway. Here to contribute another uninformed wild guess, I suppose?"

            It was Mannon, the doctor who had at one time been Conway's superior and was now a Senior Physician well on the way to achieving Diagnostician status. He had befriended Conway on his arrival at the hospital, Mannon had several times explained within Conway's hearing, because he had a soft spot for stray dogs, cats and interns. Currently he was allowed to retain permanently in his brain just three Educator tapes- that of a Tralthan specialist in micro-surgery and two belonging to surgeons of the low-gravity LSVO and MSVK species-so that for long periods of each day his reactions were quite human. At the moment he was eyeing Prilicla, who was skittering about on the fringe of the crowd, with raised eyebrows.

            Conway began to give details regarding the character and accomplishments of his new assistant, but was interrupted by Mannon saying loudly, "That's enough, lad, you're beginning to sound like an unsolicited testimonial. A light touch and the empathic faculty will be a big help in your current line of work. I grant that. But then you always did pick odd associates; levitating balls of goo, insects, dinosaurs, and such like-all pretty peculiar people, you must admit. Except for that nurse on the twenty-third level, now I admire your taste there-"

            "Are they making any headway with this case, sir?" Conway said, determinedly shunting the conversation back onto the main track again. Mannon was the best in the world, but he had the painful habit sometimes of pulling a person's leg until it threatened to come off at the hip.

            "None," said Mannon. "And what I said about wild guesses is a fact. We're all making them here, and getting nowhere-ordinary diagnostic techniques are completely useless. Just look at the thing!"

            Mannon moved aside for Conway, and a sensation as of a pencil being laid across his shoulder told him that Prilicla was behind him craning to see, too.

VI

The being in the tank was indescribable for the simple reason that it had obviously been trying to become several different things at once when the dissolution had begun. There were appendages both jointed and tentacular, patches of scales, spines and leathery, wrinkled tegument together with the suggestion of mouth and gill openings, all thrown together in a gruesome hodge-podge. Yet none of the physiological details were clear because the whole flaccid mass was softened, eroded away, like a wax model left too long in the heat. Moisture oozed from the patient's body continuously and trickled to the floor of the tank, where the water level was nearly six inches deep.

            Conway swallowed and said, "Bearing in mind the adaptability of this species, its immunity to physical damage and so on, and considering the wildly mixed-up state of its body, I should say that there may be a strong possibility that the trouble stems from psychological causes."

            Mannon looked him up and down slowly with an expression of awe on his face, then said, witheringly, "Psychological causes, hey? Amazing! Well, what else could cause a being who is immune both to physical damage and bacterial infection to get into this state except something wrong with its think tank? But perhaps you were going to be more specific?"

            Conway felt his neck and ears getting warm. He said nothing.

            Mannon grunted, then went on, "The water that it is melting into is just that, plus a few harmless organisms which are suspended in it. We've tried every method of physical and psychological treatment that we could think of, without results. At the moment someone is suggesting that we quick-freeze the patient, both to halt the melting and to give us more time to think of something else. This has been vetoed because in its present state such a course might kill the patient outright. We've had a couple of our telepathic life-forms try to tune to its mind with a view to straightening it out that way, and O'Mara has gone back to the dark ages to such a point that he has tried crude electro-shock therapy, but nothing works. Altogether we have brought, singly and acting in concert, the viewpoints of very nearly every species in the Galaxy, and still we can't get a line on what ails it.

            "If the trouble was psychological," put in Conway, "I should have thought that the telepaths-"

            "No," said Mannon. "In this life-form the mind and memory function is evenly distributed throughout the whole body and not housed in a permanent brain casing, otherwise it could not accomplish such marked changes in its physical structure. At present the being's mind is withdrawing, draining away, into smaller and smaller units-so small that the telepaths cannot work them.

            "This SRTT is a real weirdie," Mannon continued thoughtfully. "It evolved out of the sea, of course, but later its world saw outbreaks of volcanic activity, earthquakes-the surface being coated with sulfur and who knows what else-and finally a minor instability in their sun converted the planet into the desert which it now is. They had to be adaptable to survive all that. And their method of reproduction-a budding and splitting-off process which causes the loss of a sizable portion of the parent's mass-is interesting, too, because it means that the embryo is born with part of the body-and-brain cell structure of the parent. No conscious memories are passed to the newly-born but it retains unconsciously the memories which enable it to adapt-"

            "But that means," Conway burst out, "that if the parent transfers a section of its body-and-mind to the offspring, then each individual's unconscious memory must go back-"

            "And it is the unconscious which is the seat of all psychoses," interrupted O'Mara, who had come up behind them at that point. "Don't say any more, I have nightmares at the very idea. Imagine trying to analyze a patient whose subconscious mind goes back fifty thousand years. . .

The conversation dried up quickly after that and Conway, still anxious about the younger SRTT's activities, hurried back to the nursery section. The whole area was infested with maintenance men and green-uniformed Monitors, but the runaway had not been sighted again. Conway placed a DBDG nurse-the one Mannon was so fond of pulling his leg about, strangely enough-on duty in a diving suit at the AUGL ward, because he was expecting developments there at any time, and prepared with Prilicla to pay a call on the methane nursery.

            Their work among the frigid-blooded beings in that ward was also routine, and during it Conway pestered Prilicla with questions about the emotional state of the elder SRTT they had just left. But the GLNO was very little help; all it would say was that it had detected an urge toward dissolution which it could not describe more fully to Conway because there was nothing in its own previous experience which it could relate the feeling to.

            Outside again they discovered that Colinson had wasted no time. From the wall annunciators there poured out a staccato howl of static through which could be dimly heard an alien gobbling which was presumably the SRTT sound tape. Conway thought that if positions were reversed and he was a frightened small boy listening to a voice striving to speak to him through that incredible uproar, he would feel anything but reassured. And the atmosphere of the SRTT's home planet would almost certainly be of a different density to this one, which would further increase the distortion of the voice. He did not say anything to Prilicla, but Conway thought that it would be nothing less than a miracle if this cacophony produced the result which O'Mara had intended.

            The racket cut off suddenly, was replaced by a voice in English which droned out, "Would Dr. Conway please go to the intercom," then it returned unabated. Conway hurried to the nearest set.

            "This is Murchison in the AUGL lock, Doctor," said a worried female voice. "Somebody-I mean something-just went past me into the main ward. I thought it was you at first until it began opening the inner seal without putting on a suit, then I knew it must be the runaway SRTT." She hesitated, then said, "Considering the state of the patients inside I didn't give the alarm until checking with you, but I can call-"

            "No, you did quite right, Nurse," Conway said quickly. "We'll be down at once.

When they arrived at the lock five minutes later, the nurse had a suit ready for Conway, and the combination of physiological features which made it impossible for the Earth-human members of the Staff to regard Murchison with anything like a clinical detachment were rendered slightly less distracting by her own protective suit. But Conway had eyes at the moment only for the inner inspection window and the thing which floated just inside it.

            It was, or had been, very like Conway. The hair coloring was right, also the complexion, and it was in whites. But the features were out of proportion and ran together in a way that was quite horrible, and the neck and hands did not go into the tunic, they became the collar and sleeves of the garment. Conway was reminded of a lead figure that had been crudely fashioned and carelessly painted.

            At the moment Conway knew that it was not a threat to the lives of the ward's tiny patients, but it was changing. There was a slow growing together of the arms and legs, a lengthening out and the sprouting of long, narrow protuberances which could only be the beginnings of fins. The AUGL patients might be difficult for an Earth-human DBDG to catch, but the SRTT was adapting to water also, and speed.

            "Inside!" said Conway urgently. "We've got to herd it out of here before it-"

            But Prilicla was making no attempt to begin the bodily contortions which would bring it inside its protective envelope. "I have detected an interesting change in the quality of its emotional radiation," the GLNO said suddenly. "There is still fear and confusion present, and an overriding hunger. .

            "Hunger... !" Murchison had not realized until then just what deadly danger the patients were in.

            But there is something else," Prilicla continued, disregarding the interruption. "I can only describe it as a background pleasure sensation coupled with that same urge toward dissolution which I detected a short time ago in its parent. But I am puzzled to account for this sudden change.~~

            Conway's mind was on his three tiny patients, and the predatory form the SRTT was beginning to take. He said impatiently, "Probably because recent events have affected its sanity also, the pleasure trace being due possibly to a liking for the water-"

            Abruptly he stopped, his mind racing too fast for words or even ordered logical thought. Rather it was a feverish jumble of facts, experiences and wild guesswork which boiled chaotically through his brain, then incredibly became still and cool and very, very clear as.. the answer.

            And yet none of the tremendous intellects in the observation ward could have found it, Conway was sure, because they were not present with an empathic assistant when a young SRTT close to insanity through fear and grief had been immersed suddenly in the tepid, yellow depths of the AUGL tank...

            When an intelligent, mature and mentally complex being encounters unpleasant and hurtful facts of sufficient numbers and severity the result is a retreat from reality. First a striving to return to the simple, unworrisome days of childhood and then, when that period turns out to be not nearly so carefree and uncomplicated as remembered, the ultimate retreat into the womb and the motionless, mindless condition of the catatonic. But to a mature SRTT the fetal position of catatonia could not be simple to attain, because its reproductive system was such that instead of the unborn offspring being in a state of warm, mindless comfort, it found itself part of its parent's mature adult body and called upon to share in the decisions and adjustments its parent had to make. Because the SRTT body, every single cell of it, was the mind and any sort of separation was impossible to a life-form whose every cell was interchangeable.

            How divide a glass of water without pouring some off into another container?

            The diseased intellect would be forced to retreat again and again, only to find that it had become involved in endless changes and adaptations in its efforts to return to this nonexistent womb. It would go back-far, far back-until it eventually did find the mindless state which it craved and its mind, which was inseparable from its body, became the warm water teeming with unicellular life from which it had originally evolved.

            Now Conway knew the reason for the slow, melting dissolution of the terminal case upstairs. More, he thought he saw a way of solving the whole horrible mess. If he could only bank on the fact that, as was the case with most other species, a complex, mature mind tended to go insane faster than an undeveloped and youthful one...

            He was only vaguely aware of going to the intercom again and calling O'Mara, and of Murchison and Prilicla drawing closer to him as he talked. Then he was waiting for what seemed like hours for the Chief Psychologist to absorb the information and react. Finally:

            "An ingenious theory, Doctor," said O'Mara warmly. "More than that-I would say that that is exactly what has happened here, and no theorizing about it. The only pity is the understanding what has happened does nothing to aid the patient-"

            "I've been thinking about that, too," Conway broke in eagerly, "and the way I see it the runaway is the most urgent problem now-if it isn't caught and pacified soon there are going to be serious casualties among the Staff and patients, in my section anyway, if nowhere else. Unfortunately, for technical reasons, your idea of calming it by means of a sound tape in its own language is not very successful up to now...

            "That's putting it kindly," said O'Mara dryly.

            But," went on Conway, "if this idea was modified so that the runaway was spoken to, reassured, by its parent upstairs. If we first cured the elder SRTT-"

            "Cured the elder! What the blazes do you think we've been trying to do this past three weeks?" O'Mara demanded angrily. Then as the realization came that Conway was not trying to be funny or willfully stupid, that he sounded in deadly earnest, he said flatly, "Keep talking, Doctor."

            Conway kept talking. When he had finished the intercom speaker registered the sound of a great, explosive sigh, then; "I think you've got the answer all right, and we've certainly got to try it despite the risks you mentioned," O'Mara said excitedly. Then abruptly his tones became clipped and efficient. "Take charge down there, Doctor. You know what you want done better than anyone else does. And use the DBLF recreation room on level fifty-nine-it's close to your section and can be evacuated quickly. We're going to tap in on the existing communications circuits so there will be no delay here, and the special equipment you want will be in the DBLF recreation room inside fifteen minutes. So you can start anytime, Conway...

            Before he was cut off he heard Q'Mara begin issuing instructions to the effect that all Monitor Corps personnel and Staff in the nursery section were to be placed at the disposal of Doctors Conway and Prilicla, and he had barely turned away from the set before green-uniformed Monitors began crowding into the lock.

VII

The SRTT youth had somehow to be forced into the DBLF recreation room which was rapidly being booby-trapped for its benefit, and the first step was to get it out of the AUGL ward. This was accomplished by twelve Monitors swimming, sweating and cursing furiously in their heavy issue suits who chased awkwardly after it until they had it hemmed in at the point where the entry lock gave it the only avenue of escape.

            Conway, Prilicla and another bunch of Monitors were waiting in the corridor outside when it came through, all garbed against any one of half a dozen environments through which the chase might lead them. Murchison had wanted to go, too-she had wanted to be in at the kill, she had stated-but Conway had told her sharply that her job was watching over the three AUGL patients and that she had better do just that.

            He had not meant to lose his temper with Murchison like that, but he was on edge. If the idea he had been so enthusiastic about to O'Mara did not pan out there was a very good chance that there would be two incurable SRTT patients instead of one, and "in at the kill" had been an unfortunate choice of words.

            The runaway had changed again-a semi-involuntary defense mechanism triggered off by the shapes of its pursuers-into a vaguely Earth human form. It ran soggily along the corridor on legs which were too rubbery and which bent in the wrong places, and the scaly, dun-colored tegument it had worn in the AUGL tank was twitching and writhing and smoothing out into the pink and white of flesh and medical tunic. Conway could look on the most alien beings imaginable suffering from the most horrible maladies without inward distress, but the sight of the SRTT trying to become a human being as it ran made him fight to retain his lunch.

            A sudden sideways dash into an MSVK corridor took them unawares and resulted in a kicking, floundering pile-up of pursuers beyond the inner seal of the connecting lock. The MSVK life-forms were bi-pedal, vaguely stork-like beings who required an extremely low gravity pull, and the DBDGs like Conway could not adjust to it immediately. But while Conway was still slowly falling all over the place the Monitors' space training enabled them to find their feet quickly. The SRTT was headed off into the oxygen section again.

            It had been a bad few minutes while it lasted, Conway thought with relief, because the dim lighting and the opacity of the fog which the MSVKs called an atmosphere would have made the SRTT difficult to find if it had been lost to sight. If that had happened at this stage. . . Well, Conway preferred not to think about that.

            But the DBLF recreation room was only minutes away now, and the SRTT was heading straight for it. The being was changing again, into something low and heavy which was moving on all fours. It seemed to be drawing itself in, condensing, and there was a suggestion of a carapace forming. It was still in that condition when two Monitors, yelling and waving their arms wildly, dashed suddenly out of an intersection and stampeded it into the corridor which contained the recreation room .

            ... And found it empty!

            Conway swore luridly. There should have been half a dozen Monitors strung across that corridor to bar its way, but he had made such good time getting here that they were not in position yet. They were probably still inside the rec room placing their equipment, and the SRTT would go right past the doorway.

            But he had not counted on the quick mind and even more agile body of Prilicla. His assistant must have realized the position in the same instant that he did. The little GLNO ran clicking down the corridor, rapidly overtaking the SRTT, then swinging up onto the ceiling until it had passed the runaway before dropping back. Conway tried to yell a warning, tried to shout that a fragile GLNO had no chance of heading off a being who was now the characteristics of an outsize and highly mobile armored crab, and that Prilicla was committing suicide. Then he saw what his assistant was aiming at.

            There was a powered stretcher-carrier in its alcove about thirty feet ahead of the fleeing SRTT. He saw Prilicla skid to a halt beside it, hit the starter, then charge on. Prilicla was not being stupidly brave, it was being brainy and fast which was much better in these circumstances.

            The stretcher-carrier, uncontrolled, lurched into motion and went wobbling across the corridor-right into the path of the charging SRTT. There was a metallic crash and a burst of dense yellow and black smoke as its heavy batteries shattered and shorted across. Before the fans could quite clear the air the Corpsmen were able to work around the stunned and nearly motionless runaway and herd it into the recreation room.

            A few minutes later a Monitor officer approached Conway. He gave a jerk of his head which indicated the weird assortment of gadgetry which had been rushed to the compartment only minutes ago and which lay in neat piles around the room, and included the green-clad men ranged solidly against the walls-all facing toward the center of the big compartment where the SRTT rotated slowly in the exact center of the floor, seeking a way of escape. Quite obviously he was eaten up with curiosity, but his tone was carefully casual as he said, "Dr. Conway, I believe? Well, Doctor, what do you want us to do now?"

            Conway moistened his lips. Up to now he had not thought much about this moment-he had thought that it would be easy to do this because the young SRTT had been such a menace to the hospital in general and caused so much trouble in his own section in particular. But now he was beginning to feel sorry for it. It was, after all, only a kid who had been sent out of control by a combination of grief, ignorance and panic. If this thing did not turn out right...

            He shook off the feelings of doubt and inadequacy and said harshly, "You see that beastie in the middle of the room. I want it scared to death."

He had to elaborate, of course, but the Monitors got the idea very quickly and began using the equipment which had been sent them with great fervor and enthusiasm. Watching grimly, Conway identified items from Air Supply, Communications and the various diet kitchens, all being used for a purpose for which they had never been designed. There were things which emitted shrill whistles, siren howls of tremendous volumes and others which consisted simply of banging two metal trays together. To this fearful racket was added the whoops of the men wielding those noisemakers.

            And there was no doubt that the SRTT was scared-Prilicla reported its emotional reactions constantly. But it was not scared enough.

            "Quiet!" yelled Conway suddenly. "Start using the silent stuff!"

            The preceding din had only been a primer. Now would come the really vicious stuff-but silent, because any noise made by the SRTT had to be heard.

            Flares burst around the shaking figure in the middle of the floor, blindingly incandescent but of negligible heat. Simultaneously tractor and pressor beams pushed and pulled at it, sliding it back and forth across the floor, occasionally tossing it into mid-air or flattening it against the ceiling. The beams worked on the same principle as the gravity neutralizer belts, but were capable of much finer control and focus. Other beam operators began flinging lighted flares at the suspended, wildly struggling figure, only yanking them back or turning them aside at the last possible moment.

            The SRTT was really frightened now, so frightened that even non empaths could feel it. The shapes it was taking were going to give Conway nightmares for many weeks to come.

            Conway lifted a hand mike to his lips and flicked the switch. "Any reaction up there yet?"

            "Nothing yet," O'Mara's voice boomed from the speakers which had been set up around the room. "Whatever you're doing at the moment you'll have to step it up."

            "But the being is in a condition of extreme distress. . ." began Priicla.

            Conway rounded on his assistant. "If you can't take it, leave!" he snapped.

            "Steady, Conway," O'Mara's voice came sharply. "I know how you must feel, but remember that the end result will cancel all this out. .

            "But if it doesn't work." Conway protested, then: "Oh never mind." To Prilicla he said, "I'm sorry." To the officer beside him he asked, "Can you think of any way of putting on more pressure?"

            "I'd hate anything like that being done to me," said the Monitor tightly, "but I would suggest adding spin. Some species are utterly demoralized by spin when they can take practically anything else. .

Spin was added to the pummeling which the SRTT was already undergoing with the pressors-not a simple spin, but a wild, rolling, pitching movement which made Conway's stomach feel queasy just by looking at it, and the flares dived and swooped around it like insane moons around their primary. Quite a few of the men had lost their first enthusiasm, and Prilicla swayed and shook on its six pipe-stem legs, in the grip of an emotional gale which threatened to blow it away.

            It had been wrong to bring Prilicla in on this, Conway told himself angrily; no empath should have to go through this sort of hell by proxy. He had made a mistake from the very first, because the whole idea was cruel and sadistic and wrong. He was worse than a monster.

            High in the center of the room the twisting, spinning blur that was the younger SRTT began to emit a high-pitched and terrified gobbling noise.

            A crashing bedlam erupted from the wall speakers; shouts, cries, breaking noises and the sounds of running feet over-laying that of something slower and infinitely heavier. They could hear O'Mara's voice shouting out some sort of explanation to somebody at the top of his lungs, then an unidentified voice yelled at them, "For Pete's sake stop it down there! Buster's papa has woke up and is wrecking the joint...

            Quickly but gently they checked the spinning SRTT and lowered it to the floor, then they waited tensely while the shouting and crashing being relayed to them from Observation Ward Three reached a crescendo and began gradually to die down. Around the room men stood motionless watching each other, or the whimpering being on the floor, or the wall speakers, waiting. And then it came.

            The sound was similar to the alien gobbling which had been relayed through the annunciators some hours previously, but without the accompanying roar of static, and because everyone had their Translators switched on the words also came through as English.

            It was the elder SRTT, incurable no longer because it was physically whole again, speaking both reassuringly and chidingly to its erring offspring. In effect it was saying that junior had been a bad boy, that he must cease forthwith running around and getting himself and everyone else into a state, and that nothing else unpleasant would happen to him if he did as he was told by the beings now surrounding him. The sooner it did these things, the elder SRTT ended, the sooner they could both go home.

            Mentally, the runaway had taken a terrible beating, Conway knew. Maybe it had taken too much. Tense with anxiety he watched it-still in a shape that was neither fish, flesh or fowl-begin humping its way across the floor. When it began gently and submissively to butt one of the watching Monitors in the knees, the cheer that went up very nearly gave it a relapse.

"When Prilicla here gave me the clue to what was troubling the elder SRTT, I was sure that the cure would have to be drastic," Conway said to the Diagnosticians and Senior Physicians ranged around and behind O'Mara's desk.

            The fact that he was seated in such august company was a sure sign of the approval in which he was held, but despite that he still felt nervous as he went on. "Its regression toward the-to it-fetal state-complete dissolution into individual and unthinking cells floating in the primeval ocean-was far advanced, perhaps too far judging by its physical state. Major O'Mara had already tried various shock treatments which it, with its fantastically adaptable cell structure, was able to negate or ignore. My idea was to use the close physical and emotional bond which I discovered existed between the SRTT adult and its last-born offspring, and get at it that way."

            Conway paused, his eyes drifting sideways briefly to take in the shambles around them. Observation Ward Three looked as though a bomb had hit it, and Conway knew that there had been a rather hectic few minutes here between the time the elder SRTT had come out of its catatonic state and explanations had been given it. He cleared his throat and went on:

            "So we trapped the young one in the DBLF recreation room and tried to frighten it as much as possible, piping the sounds it made up here to the parent. It worked. The elder SRTT could not lie doing nothing while its latest and most loved offspring was apparently in frightful danger, and parental concern and affection overcame and destroyed the psychosis and forced it back to present time and reality. It was able to pacify the young one, and so all concerned were left happy."

            "A nice piece of deductive reasoning on your part, Doctor," O'Mara said warmly. "You are to be commended

            At that moment the intercom interrupted him. It was Murchison reporting that the three AUGLs were showing the first signs of stiffening up, and would he come at once. Conway requested an AUGL tape for Prilicla and himself, and explained the urgency of the matter. While they were taking them the Diagnosticians and Senior Physicians began to leave. A little disappointedly Conway thought that Murchison's call had spoiled what might have been his greatest moment.

            "Don't worry about it, Doctor," O'Mara said cheerfully, reading his mind again. "If that call had come five minutes later your head would have been too swollen to take a physiology tape. .

Two days later Conway had his first and only disagreement with Dr. Prilicla. He insisted that without the aid of Prilicla's empathic faculty- an incredibly accurate and useful diagnostic tool-and Murchison's vigilance, the cure of all three AUGLs would not have been possible. The GLNO stated that, much as it was against its nature to oppose his superior's wishes, on this occasion Dr. Conway was completely mistaken. Murchison said that she was glad that she had been able to help, and could she please have some leave?

            Conway said yes, then continued the argument with Prilicla, even though he knew he had no hope of winning it.

            Conway honestly knew that he would not have been able to save the infant AUGLs without the little empath's help-he might not have saved any of them, in fact. But he was the Boss, and when a Boss and his assistants accomplish something the credit invariably goes to the Boss.

            The argument, if that was the proper word for such an essentially friendly disagreement, raged for days. Things were going well in the Nursery and they hadn't anything of a serious nature to think about. They were not aware of the wreck which was then on its way to the hospital, or of the survivor it contained.

            Nor did Conway know that within the next two weeks the whole Staff of the hospital would be despising him.

CHAPTER 5

OUT-PATIENT

The Monitor Corps cruiser Sheldon flicked into normal space some I five hundred miles from Sector Twelve General Hospital, the wreck

which was its reason for coming held gently against the hull within the field of its hyperdrive generators. At this distance the vast, brilliantly lit structure which floated in interstellar space at the galactic rim was only a dim blur of light, but that was because the Monitor Captain had had a close decision to make. Buried somewhere inside the wreck which he had brought in was a survivor urgently in need of medical attention. But like any good policeman his actions were constrained by possible effects on innocent bystanders-in this case the Staff and patients of the Galaxy's largest multi-environment hospital.

            Hurriedly contacting Reception he explained the situation, and received their reassurances that the matter would be taken care of at once. Now that the welfare of the survivor was in competent hands, the Captain decided that he could return with a clear conscience to his examination of the wreck, which just might blow up in his face at any moment.

In the office of the hospital's Chief Psychologist, Dr. Conway sat uneasily on a very easy chair and watched the square, craggy features of O'Mara across an expanse of cluttered desk.

            "Relax, Doctor," O'Mara said suddenly, obviously reading his thoughts. "If you were here for a carpeting I'd have given you a harder chair. On the contrary, I've been instructed to administer a hefty pat on the back. You've been up-graded, Doctor. Congratulations. You are now, Heaven help us all, a Senior Physician."

            Before Conway could react to the news, the psychologist held up a large, square hand.

            "In my own opinion a ghastly mistake has been made," he went on, "but seemingly your success with that dissolving SRTT and your part in the levitating dinosaur business has impressed the people upstairs-they think it was due to ability instead of sheer luck. As for me," he ended, grinning, "I wouldn't trust you with my appendix."

            "You're too kind, sir," said Conway dryly.

            O'Mara smiled again. "What do you expect, praise? My job is to shrink heads, not swell 'em. And now I suppose I'll have to give you a minute to adjust to your new glory..

            Conway was not slow in appreciating what this advance in status was going to mean to him. It pleased him, definitely-he had expected to do another two years before making Senior Physician. But he was a little frightened, too.

            Henceforth he would wear an armband trimmed with red, have the right-of-way in corridors and dining halls over everyone other than fellow Seniors and Diagnosticians, and all the equipment or assistance he might need would be his for the asking. He would bear full responsibility for any patient left in his charge, with no possibility of ducking it or passing the buck. His personal freedom would be more constrained. He would have to lecture nurses, train junior interns, and almost certainly take part in one of the long-term research programs. These duties would necessitate his being in permanent possession of at least one physiology tape, probably two. That side of it, he knew, was not going to be pleasant.

            Senior Physicians with permanent teaching duties were called on to retain one or two of these tapes continuously. That, Conway had heard, was no fun. The only thing which could be said for it was that he would be better off that a Diagnostician, the hospital's elite, one of the rare beings whose mind was considered stable enough to retain permanently six, seven or even ten Educator tapes simultaneously. To their data crammed minds were given the job of original research in xenological medicine, and the diagnosis and treatment of new diseases in the hitherto unknown life-forms.

            There was a well-known saying in the hospital, reputed to have originated with the Chief Psychologist himself, that anyone sane enough to want to be a Diagnostician was mad.

            For it was not only physiological data which the Educator tapes imparted, but the complete memory and personality of the entity who had possessed that knowledge was impressed on their brains as well. In effect, a Diagnostician subjected himself or itself voluntarily to the most drastic form of multiple schizophrenia..

            Suddenly O'Mara's voice broke in on his thoughts. ..... And now that you feel three feet taller and are no doubt raring to go," the psychologist said, "I have a job for you. A wreck has been brought in which contains a survivor. Apparently the usual procedures for extricating it cannot be used. Physiological classification unknown-we haven't been able to identify the ship so have no idea what it eats, breathes or looks like. I want you to go over there and sort things out, with a view to transferring the being here as quickly as possible for treatment. We're told that its movements inside the wreckage are growing weaker," he ended briskly, "so treat the matter as urgent."

            "Yes, sir," said Conway, rising quickly. At the door he paused. Later he was to wonder at his temerity in saying what he did to the Chief Psychologist, and decided that promotion must have gone to his head. As a parting shot he said exultantly, "I've got your lousy appendix. Kellerman took it out three years ago. He pickled it and put it up as a chess trophy. It's on my bookcase..."

            O'Mara's only reaction was to incline his head, as if receiving a compliment.

            Outside in the corridor Conway went to the nearest communicator and called Transport. He said, "This is Dr. Conway. I have an urgent outpatient case and need a tender. Also a nurse able to use an analyzer and with experience of fishing people out of wrecks, if possible. I'll be at Admission Lock Eight in a few minutes. .

            Conway made good time to the lock, all things considered. Once he had to flatten himself against a corridor wall as a Tralthan Diagnostician lumbered absently past on its six, elephantine feet, the diminutive and nearly mindless OTSB life-form which lived in symbiosis with it clinging to its leathery back. Conway didn't mind giving way to a Diagnostician, and the Tralthan FGLI-OTSB combination were the finest surgeons in the Galaxy. Generally, however, the people he encountered-nurses of the DBLF classification mostly, and a few of the low-gravity, bird-like LSVOs-made way for him. Which showed what a very efficient grapevine the hospital possessed, because he was still wearing his old armband.

His swelling head was rapidly shrunk back to size by the entity waiting for him at Lock Eight. It was another of the furry, multi-pedal DBLF nurses, and it began hooting and whining immediately when he came into sight. The DBLF's own language was unintelligible, but Conway's Translator pack converted the sounds which it made-as it did all the other grunts, chirps and gobblings heard in the hospital-into English.

            "I have been awaiting you for over seven minutes," it said. "They told me this was an emergency, yet I find you ambling along as if you had all the time in the world. .

            Like all Translated speech the words had been flat and strained free of all emotional content. So the DBLF could have been joking, or half joking, or even making a simple statement of fact as it saw them with no disrespect intended. Conway doubted the last very strongly, but knew that losing his temper at this stage would be futile.

            He took a deep breath and said, "I might have shortened your waiting period if I had run all the way. But I am against running for the reason that undue haste in a being in my position gives a bad impression- people tend to think I am in a panic over something and so feel unsure of my capabilities. So for the record," he ended dryly, "I wasn't ambling, I was walking with a confident, unhurried tread."

            The sound which the DBLF made in reply was not Translatable.

            Conway went through the boarding tube ahead of the nurse,, and seconds later they shot away from the lock. In the tender's rear vision screen the sprawling mass of lights which was Sector General began to crawl together and shrink, and Conway started worrying.

            This was not the first time he had been called to a wreck, and he knew the drill. But suddenly it was brought home to him that he would be solely responsible for what was to happen-he couldn't scream for help if something went wrong. Not that he had ever done that, but it had been comforting to know that he could have done so if necessary. He had an urgent desire to share some of his newly-acquired responsibility with someone-Dr. Prilicla, for instance, the gentle, spidery, emotion sensitive who had been his assistant in the Nursery, or any of his other human and non-human colleagues.

            During the trip to the wreck the DBLF, who told him that its name was Kursedd, tried Conway's patience sorely. The nurse was completely without tact, and although Conway knew the reason for this failing, it was still a little hard to take.

            As a race Kursedd's species were not telepathic, but among themselves they could read each other's thoughts with a high degree of accuracy by the observation of expression. With four extensible eyes, two hearing antenna, a coat of fur which could lie silky smooth or stick out in spikes like a newly-bathed dog, plus various other highly flexible and expressive features-all of which they had very little control over-it was understandable that this caterpillar-like race had never learned diplomacy. Invariably they said exactly what they thought, because to another member of their race those thoughts were already plain anyhow, so that saying something different would have been stupid.

            Then all at once they were sliding up to the Monitor cruiser and the wreck which hung beside it.

Apart from the bright orange coloring it looked pretty much like any other wreck he had seen, Conway thought; ships resembled people in that respect-a violent end stripped them of all individuality. He directed Kursedd to circle a few times, and moved to the forward observation panel.

            At close range the internal structure of the wreck was revealed by the mishap which had practically sheered it in two, it was of dark and fairly normal-looking metal, so that the garish coloration of the hull must be due simply to paint. Conway filed that datum away carefully in his mind, because the shade of paint a being used could give an accurate guide to the range of its visual equipment, and the opacity or otherwise of its atmosphere. A few minutes later he decided that nothing further could be abstracted from an external examination of the ship, and signaled Kursedd to lock onto Sheldon.

            The lock antechamber of the cruiser was small and made even more cramped by the crowd of green-uniformed Corpsmen staring, discussing and cautiously poking at an odd-looking mechanism-obviously something salvaged from the wreck-which was lying on the deck. The compartment buzzed with the technical jargon of half a dozen specialties and nobody paid any attention to the doctor and nurse until Conway cleared his throat loudly twice. Then an officer with Major's insignia, a thin faced, graying man, detached himself from the crowd, and came toward them.

            "Summerfield, Captain," he said crisply, giving the thing on the floor a fond backward glance as he spoke. "You, I take it, will be the high-powered medical types from the hospital?"

            Conway felt irritated. He could understand these people's feelings, of course-a wrecked interstellar ship belonging to an unknown alien culture was a rare find indeed, a technological treasure trove on whose value no limit could be set. But Conway's mind was oriented differently; alien artifacts came a long way second in importance to the study, investigation and eventual restoration of alien life. That was why he got right down to business.

            "Captain Summerfield," he said sharply, "we must ascertain and reproduce this survivor's living conditions as quickly as possible, both at the hospital and in the tender which will take it there. Could we have someone to show us over the wreck please. A fairly responsible officer, if possible, with a knowledge of-"

            "Surely," Summerfield interrupted. He looked as if he was going to say something else, then he shrugged, turned, and barked, "Hendricks!" A Lieutenant wearing the bottom half of a spacesuit and a rather harassed expression joined them. The Captain performed brief introductions, then returned to the enigma on the floor.

            Hendricks said, "We'll need heavy-duty suits. I can fit you Dr. Conway, but Dr. Kursedd is a DBLF..

            "There is no problem," Kursedd put in. "I have a suit in the tender. Give me five minutes."

The nurse wheeled and undulated toward the airlock, its fur rising and falling in slow waves which ran from the sparse hair at its neck to the bushier growth on the tail. Conway had been on the point of correcting Hendrick's mistake regarding Kursedd's status, but he suddenly realized that being called "Doctor" had elicited an intense emotional response from the DBLF-that rippling fur was certainly an expression of something! Not being a DBLF himself Conway could not tell whether the expression registered was one of pleasure or pride at being mistaken for a Doctor, or if the being was simply laughing one of its thirty-four legs off at the error. It wasn't a vital matter, so Conway decided to say nothing.

II

The next occasion that Hendricks addressed "Doctor" Kursedd was when they were entering the wreck, but this time the DBLF's expression was hidden by the casing of its spacesuit.

            "What happened here?" Conway asked as he looked around curiously. "Accident, collision or what?"

            "Our theory," Lieutenant Hendricks replied, "is that one of the two pairs of generators which maintained the ship in hyperspace during faster than-light velocities failed for some reason. One half of the vessel was suddenly returned to normal space, which automatically meant that it was braked to a velocity far below that of light. The result was that the ship was ripped in two. The section containing the faulty generators was left behind," Hendricks went on, "because after the accident the remaining pair of generators must have remained functional for a second or so. Various safety devices must have gone into operation to seal off the damage, but the shock had practically shaken the whole ship to pieces so they weren't very successful. But an automatic distress signal was emitted which we were fortunate enough to hear, and obviously there is still pressure somewhere inside because we heard the survivor moving about. But the thing I can't help wondering about," he ended soberly, "is the condition of the other half of the wreck. It didn't, or couldn't, send out a distress signal or we would have heard it also. Someone might have survived in that section, too."

            "A pity if they did," said Conway. Then, in a firmer voice, "But we're going to save this one. How do I get close to it?"

            Hendricks checked their suits' anti-gravity belts and air tanks, then said, "You can't, at least not for some time. Follow me and I'll show you why.

O'Mara had made reference to difficulties in reaching the alien, Conway remembered, and he had assumed it was the normal trouble of wreckage blocking the way. But from the competent look of this Lieutenant in particular and the known efficiency of the Corps in general, he was sure that their troubles would not be ordinary.

            Yet when they penetrated further into the wreck the ship's interior seemed remarkably clear. There was the usual loose stuff floating about, but no solid blockage. It was only when Conway looked closely at his surroundings that he was able to see the full extent of the damage. There was not one fitting, wall support or section of plating which was not either loose, cracked or sprung at the seams. And at the other end of the compartment they had just entered he could see where a heavy door had been burned through, with traces of the rapid-sealing goo used in setting up a temporary airlock showing all around it.

            "That is our problem," Hendricks said, as Conway looked questioningly at him. "The disaster very nearly shook the ship apart. If we weren't in weightless conditions it would fall to pieces around us."

            He broke off to go to the aid of Kursedd, who was having trouble getting through the hole in the door, then resumed, "All the air-tight doors must be closed automatically, but with the ship in this condition the fact of an air-tight door being closed does not necessarily mean that there is pressure on the other side of it. And while we think we have figured out the manual controls, we cannot be absolutely sure that opening one by this method will not cause every other door in the ship to open at the same time, with lethal results for the survivor."

            In Conway's phones there was the sound of a short, heavy sigh, then the Lieutenant went on;

            "We've been forced to set up locks outside every bulkhead we came to so that if there should be an atmosphere on the other side when we burn through, the pressure drop will be only fractional. But it's a very time-wasting business, and no short cuts are possible which would not risk the safety of the alien."

            "Surely more rescue teams would be the answer," Conway said. "If there aren't enough on your ship we can bring them from the hospital. That would cut down the time required-"

            "No, Doctor!" Hendricks said emphatically. "Why do you think we parked five hundred miles out? There is evidence of considerable power storage in this wreck and until we know exactly how and where, we have to go easy. We want to save the alien, you understand, but we don't want to blow it and ourselves up. Didn't they tell you about this at the hospital?"

            Conway shook his head "Maybe they didn't want me to worry.

            Hendricks laughed. "Neither do I. Seriously, the chance of a blowup is vanishingly small provided we take proper precautions. But with men swarming all over the wreck, burning and pulling it apart, it would be a near-certainty."

While the Lieutenant had been talking they passed through two other compartments and along a short corridor. Conway noticed that the interior of each room had a different color scheme. The survivor's race, he thought, must have highly individual notions regarding interior decoration.

            He said, "When do you expect to get through to it?"

            This was a simple question which required a long, complicated answer, Hendricks explained ruefully. The alien had made its presence known by noise-or more accurately, by the vibrations set up in the fabric of the ship by its movements. But the condition of the wreck plus the fact that its movements were of irregular duration and weakening made it impossible to judge its position with certainty. They were cutting a way toward the center of the wreck on the assumption that that was where an undamaged, air-tight compartment was most likely to be. Also, they were missing any later movements it made, which might have given them a fix on its position, because of the noise and vibration set up by the rescue team.

            Boiled down, the answer was between three and seven hours.

            And after they made contact with it, thought Conway, he had to sample, analyze and reproduce its atmosphere, ascertain its pressure and gravity requirements, prepare it for transfer to the hospital and do whatever he could for its injuries until it could be treated properly.

            "Far too long," said Conway, aghast. The survivor could not be expected, in its steadily weakening state, to survive indefinitely. "We'll have to prepare accommodation without actually seeing our patient-there's nothing else for it. Now this is what we'll do . .

            Rapidly, Conway gave instruction for tearing up sections of floor plating so as to bare the artificial gravity grids beneath. This sort of thing was not in his line, he told Hendricks, but no doubt the Lieutenant could make a fair guess at their output. There was only one known way of neutralizing gravity used by all the space-going races of the Galaxy; if the survivor's species had a different way of doing it then they might as well give up there and then.

            The physical characteristics of any life-form," he went on, "can be deduced from specimens of their food supply, the size and power demands of their artificial gravity grids, and air trapped in odd sections of piping. Enough data of this sort would enable us to reproduce its living conditions-"

            "Some of the loose objects floating around must be food containers," Kursedd put in suddenly.

            "That's the idea," Conway agreed. "But obtaining and analyzing a sample of air must come first. That way we'll have a rough idea of its metabolism, which should help you to tell which cans hold paint and which syrup. ..

Seconds later the search to detect and isolate the wreck's air-supply system was under way. The quantity of plumbing in any compartment of a spaceship was necessarily large, Conway knew, but the amount of piping which ran through even the smallest rooms in this ship left him feeling astonished by its complexity. The sight caused a vague stirring at the back of his mind, but either his association centers were not working properly or the stimulus was too weak for him to make anything out of it.

            Conway and the others were working on the assumption that if a compartment could be sealed by air-tight bulkheads, then the pipelines supplying air to that section would be interrupted by cut-off valves where they entered and left it. The finding of a section of piping containing atmosphere was therefore only a matter of time. But the maze of plumbing all around them included control and power lines, some of which must still be live. So each section of piping had to be traced back to a break or other damage which allowed them to identify it as not belonging to the air-supply system. It was a long, exhausting process of elimination, and Conway raged inwardly at this shearly mechanical puzzle on whose quick solution depended his patient's life. Furiously he wished that the team cutting into the wreck would contact the survivor, just so he could go back to being a fairly capable doctor instead of acting like an engineer with ten thumbs.

            Two hours slipped by and they had the possibilities narrowed down to a single heavy pipe which was obviously the outlet, and a thick bundle of metal tubing which just had to bring the air in.

            Apparently there were seven air inlets!

            "A being that needs seven different chemical. . ." began Hendricks, and lapsed into a baffled silence.

            "Only one line carries the main constituent," Conway said. "The others must contain necessary trace elements or inert components, such as the nitrogen in our own air. If those regulator valves you can see on each tube had not closed when the compartment lost pressure we could tell by the settings the proportions involved."

            He spoke confidently, but Conway was not feeling that way. He had premonitions.

            Kursedd moved forward. From its kit the nurse produced a small cutting torch, focused the flame to a six-inch, incandescent needle, then gently brought it into contact with one of the seven inlet pipes. Conway moved closer, an open sample flask held at the ready.

            Yellowish vapor spurted suddenly and Conway pounced. His flask now held little more than a slightly soft vacuum, but there was enough of the gas caught inside for analysis purposes. Kursedd attacked another section of tubing.

            "Judging by sight alone I would say that is chlorine," the DBLF said as it worked. "And if chlorine is the main constituent of its atmosphere then a modified PVSJ ward could take the survivor."