aggressive, unpleasant individuals — geniuses were rarely charming people — with all sorts of peeves and phobias. Usually these did not become apparent during the course of an operation or treatment. Often the worst times were when the possessor of the tape was relaxing, or sleeping.
Alien nightmares, Conway had been told, were really nightmarish. And alien sexual fantasies or wish- fulfillment dreams were enough to make the person concerned wish, if he was capable of wishing coherently for anything, that he were dead. Conway swallowed.
“A response of some kind is called for,” O’Mara said sarcastically, his manner indicating that he was back to being his usual, unlovable self and that the Conway interview was no longer a matter for concern. “Unless that gape is an attempt at nonverbal communication?”
“I … I need time to think about it,” Conway said.
“You will have plenty of time to think about it,” O’Mara said, standing up and looking pointedly at the desk chronometer, “on Goglesk.”
CHAPTER 4
The officers of the Monitor Corps scoutship Trennelgon knew Conway, both by reputation and by the fact that on three separate occasions he had given instructions to their communications officer during the search and retrieval operation on the widely scattered life capsules of the gigantic coilship belonging to the CRLT group entity.
Virtually every scoutship in three Galactic Sectors had been called on to assist in that operation, and Conway had communicated with the majority of them at some stage, but this tenuous connection made Trennelgon’s crew act toward him as if he were a famous relative. So much so that there was no time to think, or feel morbid, or do anything but respond to their friendly curiosity regarding Rhabwar and its rescue missions until he began yawning uncontroflably in their faces.
He was told that the trip would require only two Jumps and that they were estimating arrival in the Goglesk system in just under ten hours, after which he was reluctantly allowed to retire.
But when he stretched out on the narrow Service bunk, it was inevitable that he would start thinking of Murchison, who was not stretched out beside him. And his recollections were sharp and clear as they always were of anything they had said or done together, so that O’Mara’s memory-enhancing medication was superfluous.
She had begun by discussing the implications of Prilicla’s new appointment and the effect of Danalta’s shape-changing faculty on the established rescue procedures. Only gradually had she worked the conversation around to Conway’s possible advancement to Diagnostician. It had been obvious that she was as reluctant to bring up the subject as Conway had been, but Murchison was less of a moral coward.
“Prilicla has no doubt about you making it,” he heard her saying again, “and neither have I. But if you were unable to adjust, or could not for some reason accept the position, it is still a high professional compliment to have been considered.”
Conway did not reply, and she turned toward him, raising herself on one elbow. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be gone for a few weeks, maybe months, and you’ll hardly even miss me.”
They both knew that was untrue. He looked up at her faintly smiling but concerned features and said, “As a Diagnostician I might not be the same person anymore. That’s what is worrying me. I might end up not feeling the same toward you.”
“I’ll make damned sure that you do!” she said fiercely. More quietly, she went on, “Thornnastor has been a Diagnostician for nearly thirty years. I’ve had to work very closely with it as my head of department, and apart from gossiping and purveying information on all and sundry on the sexual misdemeanors of every species on the hospital staff, no serious personality changes have been apparent to …”
A non-Tralthan like you,” Conway finished for her.
It was her turn to be silent. He went on. “A few years back I had a multiple carapacial fracture on a Melfan. It was a lengthy procedure, done in stages, so that I had the ELNT tape riding me for three days. The Melfans have a great appreciation of physical beauty, so long as the physique concerned is exoskeletal and has at least six legs.
“Assisting me was OR Nurse Hudson,” he continued. “You know Hudson? By the time the op was completed, I was much impressed with Hudson, and I and my Melfan alter ego were regarding her as a very pleasant personality, professionally most competent, but physically as a shapeless and unlovely bag of dough. I’m worried that—”
“Some members of her own species,” Murchison put in sweetly, “also regard Hudson as a shapeless and unlovely bag—”
“Now, now,” Conway said.
“I know, I’m being catty. I’m worried about that, too, and sorry that I cannot fully appreciate the problems you will be facing, because the Educator tapes are not for the likes of me.
She drew her features into a mock scowl and tried to reproduce the deep, rasping voice of O’Mara at its most bitingly sarcastic as she went on. “Absolutely not, Pathologist Murchison! I am well aware that the Educator tapes would assist you in your work. But you and the other females or extraterrestrial female equivalents on the staff will have to continue using your brains, such as they are, unaided. It is regrettable, but you females have a deep, ineradicable and sex-based aversion, a form of hyperfastidiousness, which will not allow you to share your minds with an alien personality which is unaffected by your sexual …”
The effort of maintaining the bass voice became too much for her, and she broke into a fit of coughing.
Conway laughed in spite of himself, then said pleadingly, “But what should I, what should we, do?”
She placed her hand lightly on his chest and leaned closer. Reassuringly, she said, “It might not be as bad as we think. I cannot imagine anyone or anything changing you if you don’t want to be changed. You’re far too stubborn, so I suppose we have to give it a try. But right now we should forget it and get some sleep.”
She smiled down at him and added, “Eventually.”
He had been given the supernumerary’s position on the control deck — a courtesy not often offered to non- Service personnel — and was watching the main screen when Trennelgon emerged from hyperspace in the Goglesk system. The planet itself was a bluish, cloudstreaked globe similar in all respects, at this distance, to all the other worlds of the Federation which supported warm-blooded oxygenbreathing life. But Conway’s primary interest was in the world’s intelligent life-forms, and as diplomatically as possible he made that clear.
The Captain, an Orligian Monitor Corps Major called SachanLi, growled at him apologetically while its translator annunciated the words, “I’m sorry, Doctor. We know nothing of them, or of the planet itself beyond the perimeter of the landing area. We were pulled off survey duty to take the available Goglesk language data to the master translator in Sector General for processing, and to bring you and the translator program back here.
“Having you on board, Doctor,” the Captain went on, “was a very welcome break in the monotony of a six- month mapping mission in Sector Ten, and I hope we didn’t give you too hard a time with all our questions.”
“Not at all, Captain,” Conway said. “Is the perimeter guarded?”
“Only by wire netting,” Sachan-Li replied. “To keep the nonintelligent grazers and scavengers from being cooked by our tailblasts. The natives visit the base sometimes, I hear, but I’ve never seen one.
Conway nodded, then turned to watch the screen where the major natural features of the planet were becoming visible. He did not speak for several minutes, because Sachan-Li and the other officers — a diminutive, red-furred Nidian and two Earth-humans — were engaged in the pre-landing checks. He watched as the world overflowed the edges of the screen and its surface changed gradually from being a vertical wall ahead of them to the ground below.
Trennelgon, in its hypersonic glider configuration, shuddered its way through the upper atmosphere, slowing as it lost altitude. Oceans, mountains, and green and yellow grasslands swept past below them, still looking normal and familiar and Earth-like. Then the horizon dropped suddenly below the bottom edge of the screen. They climbed, lost velocity, and began dropping and decelerating tail-first for a landing.
“Doctor,” Sachan-Li said after they had touched down, “would you mind delivering this language program to the base commander? We are supposed to drop you and take off at once.
