STAR SURGEON
It was amazing to Dal Timgar just how good it seemed to be back on
Hospital Earth again.
In the time he had been away as a crewman of the _Lancet_, the seasons
had changed, and the port of Philadelphia lay under the steaming summer
sun. As Dal stepped off the shuttle ship to join the hurrying crowds in
the great space-port, it seemed almost as though he were coming home.
He thought for a moment of the night not so long before when he had
waited here for the shuttle to Hospital Seattle, to attend the meeting
of the medical training council. He had worn no uniform then, not even
the collar and cuff of the probationary physician, and he remembered his
despair that night when he had thought that his career as a physician
from Hospital Earth was at an end.
Now he was returning by shuttle from Hospital Seattle to the port of
Philadelphia again, completing the cycle that had been started many
months before. But things were different now. The scarlet cape of the
Red Service of Surgery hung from his slender shoulders now, and the
light of the station room caught the polished silver emblem on his
collar. It was a tiny bit of metal, but its significance was enormous.
It announced to the world Dal Timgar's final and permanent acceptance as
a physician; but more, it symbolized the far-reaching distances he had
already traveled, and would travel again, in the service of Hospital
Earth.
It was the silver star of the Star Surgeon.
The week just past had been both exciting and confusing. The hospital
ship had arrived five hours after Black Doctor Hugo Tanner had recovered
from his anaesthesia, moving in on the _Lancet_ in frantic haste and
starting the shipment of special surgical supplies, anaesthetics and
maintenance equipment across in lifeboats almost before contact had been
stabilized. A large passenger boat hurtled away from the hospital ship's
side, carrying a pair of Four-star surgeons, half a dozen Three-star
Surgeons, two Radiologists, two Internists, a dozen nurses and another
Four-star Black Doctor across to the _Lancet_; and when they arrived at
the patrol ship's entrance lock, they discovered that their haste had
been in vain.
It was like Grand Rounds in the general wards of Hospital Philadelphia,
with the Four-star Surgeons in the lead as they tramped aboard the
patrol ship. They found Black Doctor Tanner sitting quietly at his
bedside reading a journal of pathology and taking notes. He glared up at
them when they burst in the door without even knocking.
"But are you feeling well, sir?" the chief surgeon asked him for the
third time.
"Of course I'm feeling well. Do you think I'd be sitting here if I
weren't?" the Black Doctor growled. "Dr. Timgar is my surgeon and the
physician in charge of this case. Talk to him. He can give you all the
details of the matter."
"You mean you permitted a probationary physician to perform this kind of
surgery?" The Four-star Surgeon cried incredulously.
"I did not!" the Black Doctor snapped. "He had to drag me kicking and
screaming into the operating room. But fortunately for me, this
particular probationary physician had the courage of his convictions, as
well as wit enough to realize that I would not survive if he waited for
you to gather your army together. But I think you will find the surgery
was handled with excellent skill. Again, I must refer you to Dr. Timgar
for the details. I was not paying attention to the technique of the
surgery, I assure you."
"But sir," the chief surgeon broke in, "how could there have been
surgery of any sort here? The dispatch that came to us listed the
_Lancet_ as a plague ship--"
"_Plague ship!_" the Black Doctor exploded. "Oh, yes. Egad!
I--hum!--imagine that the dispatcher must have gotten his signals mixed
somehow. Well, I suppose you want to examine me. Let's have it over
with."
The doctors examined him within an inch of his life. They exhausted
every means of physical, laboratory and radiological examination short
of re-opening his chest and looking in, and at last the chief surgeon
was forced reluctantly to admit that there was nothing left for him to
do but provide post-operative follow-up care for the irascible old man.
And by the time the examination was over and the Black Doctor was moved
aboard the hospital ship, word had come through official channels to the
_Lancet_ announcing that the quarantine order had been a dispatcher's
unfortunate error, and directing the ship to return at once to Hospital
Earth with the new contract that had been signed on 31 Brucker VII. The
crewmen of the _Lancet_ had special orders to report immediately to the
medical training council at Hospital Seattle upon arrival, in order to
give their formal General Practice Patrol reports and to receive their
appointments respectively as Star Physician, Star Diagnostician and Star
Surgeon. The orders were signed with the personal mark of Hugo Tanner,
Physician of the Black Service of Pathology.
Now the ceremony and celebration in Hospital Seattle were over, and Dal
had another appointment to keep. He lifted Fuzzy from his elbow and
tucked him safely into an inner jacket pocket to protect him from the
crowd in the station, and moved swiftly through to the subway tubes.
He had expected to see Black Doctor Arnquist at the investment
ceremonies, but there had been neither sign nor word from him. Dal tried
to reach him after the ceremonies were over; all he could learn was that
the Black Doctor was unavailable. And then a message had come through to
Dal under the official Hospital Earth headquarters priority, requesting
him to present himself at once at the grand council building at Hospital
Philadelphia for an interview of the utmost importance.
He followed the directions on the dispatch now, and reached the grand
council building well ahead of the appointed time. He followed corridors
and rode elevators until he reached the twenty-second story office suite
where he had been directed to report. The whole building seemed alive
with bustle, as though something of enormous importance was going on;
high-ranking physicians of all the services were hurrying about,
gathering in little groups at the elevators and talking among themselves
in hushed voices. Even more strange, Dal saw delegation after delegation
of alien creatures moving through the building, some in the special
atmosphere-maintaining devices necessary for their survival on Earth,
some characteristically alone and unaccompanied, others in the company
of great retinues of underlings. Dal paused in the main concourse of
the building as he saw two such delegations arrive by special car from
the port of Philadelphia.
"Odd," he said quietly, reaching in to stroke Fuzzy's head. "Quite a
gathering of the clans, eh? What do you think? Last time I saw a
gathering like this was back at home during one of the centennial
conclaves of the Galactic Confederation."
On the twenty-second floor, a secretary ushered him into an inner
office. There he found Black Doctor Thorvold Arnquist, in busy
conference with a Blue Doctor, a Green Doctor and a surgeon. The Black
Doctor looked up, and beamed. "That will be all right now, gentlemen,"
he said. "I'll be in touch with you directly."
He waited until the others had departed. Then he crossed the room and
practically hugged Dal in delight. "It's good to see you, boy," he said,
"and above all, it's good to see that silver star at last. You and your
little pink friend have done a good job, a far better job than I thought
you would do, I must admit."
Dal perched Fuzzy on his shoulder. "But what is this about an interview?
Why did you want to see me, and what are all these people doing here?"
Dr. Arnquist laughed. "Don't worry," he said. "You won't have to stay
for the council meeting. It will be a long boring session, I fear.
Doubtless every single one of these delegates at some time in the next
few days will be standing up to give us a three hour oration, and it is
my ill fortune as a Four-star Black Doctor to have to sit and listen and
smile through it all. But in the end, it will be worth it, and I thought
that you should at least know that your name will be mentioned many
times during these sessions."
"My name?"
"You didn't know that you were a guinea pig, did you?" the Black Doctor
said.
"I ... I'm afraid I didn't."
"An unwitting tool, so to speak," the Black Doctor chuckled. "You know,
of course, that the Galactic Confederation has been delaying and
stalling any action on Hospital Earth's application for full status as
one of the Confederation powers and for a seat on the council. We had
fulfilled two criteria for admission without difficulty--we had resolved
our problems at home so that we were free from war on our own planet,
and we had a talent that is much needed and badly in demand in the
galaxy, a job to do that would fit into the Confederation's
organization. But the Confederation has always had a third criterion for
its membership, a criterion that Hospital Earth could not so easily
prove or demonstrate."
The Black Doctor smiled. "After all, there could be no place in a true
Confederation of worlds for any one race of people that considered
itself superior to all the rest. No race can be admitted to the
Confederation until its members have demonstrated that they are capable
of tolerance, willing to accept the members of other races on an equal
footing. And it has always been the nature of Earthmen to be intolerant,
to assume that one who looks strange and behaves differently must
somehow be inferior."
The Black Doctor crossed the room and opened a folder on the desk. "You
can read the details some other time, if you like. You were selected by
the Galactic Confederation from a thousand possible applicants, to serve
as a test case, to see if a place could be made for you on Hospital
Earth. No one here was told of your position--not even you--although
certain of us suspected the truth. The Confederation wanted to see if a
well-qualified, likeable and intelligent creature from another world
would be accepted and elevated to equal rank as a physician with
Earthmen."
Dal stared at him. "And I was the one?"
"You were the one. It was a struggle, all right, but Hospital Earth has
finally satisfied the Confederation. At the end of this conclave we will
be admitted to full membership and given a permanent seat and vote in
the galactic council. Our probationary period will be over. But enough
of that. What about you? What are your plans? What do you propose to do
now that you have that star on your collar?"
They talked then about the future. Tiger Martin had been appointed to
the survey crew returning to 31 Brucker VII, at his own request, while
Jack was accepting a temporary teaching post in the great diagnostic
clinic at Hospital Philadelphia. There were a dozen things that Dal had
considered, but for the moment he wanted only to travel from medical
center to medical center on Hospital Earth, observing and studying in
order to decide how he would best like to use his abilities and his
position as a Physician from Hospital Earth. "It will be in surgery, of
course," he said. "Just where in surgery, or what kind, I don't know
just yet. But there will be time enough to decide that."
"Then go along," Dr. Arnquist said, "with my congratulations and
blessing. You have taught us a great deal, and perhaps you have learned
some things at the same time."
Dal hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded. "I've learned some things,"
he said, "but there's still one thing that I want to do before I go."
He lifted his little pink friend gently down from his shoulder and
rested him in the crook of his arm. Fuzzy looked up at him, blinking his
shoe-button eyes happily. "You asked me once to leave Fuzzy with you,
and I refused. I couldn't see then how I could possibly do without him;
even the thought was frightening. But now I think I've changed my mind."
He reached out and placed Fuzzy gently in the Black Doctor's hand. "I
want you to keep him," he said. "I don't think I'll need him any more.
I'll miss him, but I think it would be better if I don't have him now.
Be good to him, and let me visit him once in a while."
The Black Doctor looked at Dal, and then lifted Fuzzy up to his own
shoulder. For a moment the little creature shivered as if afraid. Then
he blinked twice at Dal, trustingly, and snuggled in comfortably against
the Black Doctor's neck.
Without a word Dal turned and walked out of the office. As he stepped
down the corridor, he waited fearfully for the wave of desolation and
loneliness he had felt before when Fuzzy was away from him.
But there was no hint of those desolate feelings in his mind now. And
after all, he thought, why should there be? He was not a Garvian any
longer. He was a Star Surgeon from Hospital Earth.
He smiled as he stepped from the elevator into the main lobby and
crossed through the crowd to the street doors. He pulled his scarlet
cape tightly around his throat. Drawing himself up to the full height of
which he was capable, he walked out of the building and strode down onto
the street.
* * * * *
_Also by Alan E. Nourse_
ROCKET TO LIMBO
SCAVENGERS IN SPACE