enough.
Suddenly Creethar’s feet became entangled in the net. He lost balance and together the attacker and attacked tumbled backwards over the narrow ledge, and, wrapped together in netting, rolled down the rocky slope. By the time the other hunters got to them the twasach, whose body had ended up underneath that of the much heavier Wem, was dead, and Creethar was not expected to survive for long. But he did survive and while he lived, he would continue to hold authority over them because that was the law.
The dead twasach was diseased, its hunger-weakened body so covered with open, suppurating sores that it could not be safely declared edible. In spite of being severely weakened by their own hunger, the hunters had no choice but to obey when Creethar ordered them to leave the suspect carcass where it lay. A few of them wondered aloud about the internal organs which might not be affected, but their remarks were ignored.
They were also ordered to call off the hunt immediately, return to the mine and to bring all five of the cubs with them alive. It was not the first time that young twasachs had been caught by hunting parties, but previously they had been killed singly and in the open, never trapped as a complete litter in their den. For the first time in living memory, and provided the hunters and their families living in near starvation at the mine could control their hunger for a few years, there was the possibility of breeding the cubs into a food herd.
So they built a covered litter for Creethar out of branches and the skins of the smoke-tent and began the slow return to the mine. Even though Creethar was in constant pain and not always clear in his mind or speech, he spent his lucid moments talking to Druuth about the necessity of keeping all of the twasach cubs alive and trying to make them promise to continue doing so should he die before reaching the mine.
This was not strictly according to Wem law, but they did not want to argue and add in any way to the suffering of a greatly respected First Hunter, who was soon to die, or to Druuth, his mate.
Druuth insisted on being one of the litter bearers whether or not it was her turn, so as to make sure the other carriers moved as smoothly as possible over rough ground and to try to talk some of Creethar’s pain away. She spoke of many things: of earlier, more successful hunts; of the strange speaking machines dropped at the mine by the off-worlders; but mostly of their first journey together from the lake settlement. Four young adults had made the long, dangerous journey in search of mates, just as the new hunters among the lake people would travel to the mine or other groups for the same purpose, because the children were sickly or damaged in their minds if the Wem mated within their own tribe. Creethar had shown his courage and strength and had claimed his right of first choice by leaving his traveling companions far behind and arriving at the lake three days before they did, and his choice had been Druuth.
But when the going was rough and Creethar’s broken bones were grinding together so that she could almost hear his silent screaming in her mind, Druuth talked only about that first mating journey together, and of the things they had said and done during their long, unhurried, and wonderful return to her new home in the mine.
Creethar’s deteriorating condition during the return journey was being described in such horrifying detail by Druuth that Gurronsevas was feeling a growing inner distress, and he did not have to be an empath to sense the effect of the words on Remrath, its parent. But before he could speak, the voice of Prilicla said everything that he wanted to say.
“Friend Gurronsevas,” said the empath. “The information you have obtained regarding the patient’s injuries and subsequent lack of treatment is helpful. But we have enough for the time being, and your friend Remrath is suffering acute emotional distress. Please sever contact with Druuth as quickly as possible and give Remrath the choice of going back in
When he relayed the message, Remrath said, “Ancient in years as I am, I could probably walk faster than this starving bunch. But no, I shall return on your ship. There, there are preparations I must make.”
Again Gurronsevas sensed the other’s distress. In an attempt at reassurance, he said, “Please do not worry, Remrath. The off-worlders on the ship know their business and Creethar is in good hands. Would you like to watch them work?
“No!” said Remrath sharply. In a softer voice it went on, “To you it may appear that I am a weak and cowardly parent. But remember, your off-worlders have asked for this responsibility and I have passed it to them. It is very insensitive of you, Gurronsevas, to ask me to watch what they do to my offspring. This is information I prefer not to know. Please return me to the mine as quickly as possible.”
During the return flight the Wem did not spare so much as a glance at the medical team who were working on Creethar, nor did it speak another word to Gurronsevas or anyone else. He tried to imagine how he would have felt if one of his children, supposing there had been any, had been seriously injured and he had been offered the chance to watch the surgeons working on it.
Perhaps Remrath was right and his remark had been most insensitive.
CHAPTER 29
Unlike Remrath, Gurronsevas could not avoid seeing or at least hearing everything that was being done. Each stage of the procedure was being relayed onto the casualty deck’s large repeater screen and, since it was the first major operation on a life-form new to the Federation, the procedure was being recorded for future study, which meant that the accompanying verbal commentary was precise and detailed. Even when he directed all of his eyes away from the screen, he could not escape the word-pictures that the voices were painting.
Beyond the direct vision port the steep green slopes of the valley dimmed gradually into the monochrome of twilight and then to the near-absolute darkness that was possible only on a moonless world in a galactic sector where the star-systems were sparse, and still they worked and talked over the patient. But as the first grey hint of dawn diluted the blackness, the work slowed to a stop and the commentary went into the summation phase.
The voices were sounding increasingly concerned.“… You will observe,” Prilicla was saying, “that the simple and complicated fractures to the leg, fore-limb, and rib cage have been reduced and immobilized where necessary, and the incised and lacerated wounds and abrasions irrigated, sutured and covered with sterile dressings. Because of the Wem physiological data furnished by Tawsar and Remrath, no difficulties were experienced during the surgical repair work. It is the minor injuries, the areas of surface laceration or abrasion associated with the fractures, which are the major cause of concern and which make the prognosis uncertain …”
“Translated,” said Naydrad, its pointed head turning toward Gurronsevas, “it means the operation was a success but the patient will probably die.”
None of the others remonstrated with it. Probably the Charge Nurse was saying only what the medical team was already thinking.“… While it is unnecessary to remind some of you,” Prilicla went on, for the non-medical Gurronsevas’s benefit, “that pathogens evolved on one world cannot affect the life-forms of another, the same cannot be said for the curative medication used by different species. We have developed a single, emergency-use specific that is effective against infections of this type found in the majority of the warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing life-forms, but there are a few species on whom the medication is lethal. Even with Sector General’s facilities a lengthy investigation — two or three weeks, at minimum — would be required before it could be declared safe for use on a Wem patient. We took a small risk with the anesthetic …”
“We may have to take the big one, Doctor,” Murchison broke in sharply. Then in a more clinical voice, it went on, “The patient is severely debilitated, initially by its injuries, then by the continuing trauma of its long journey without treatment, and now by unavoidable post-operative shock. The shock is being controlled, but the only positive measures we have been able to take are running in pure oxygen and intravenous feeding lines. At least we know enough about the Wem basic metabolism not to poison it with an IV drip.
“Whether or not to risk using Wem-untested medication is a decision that will have to be made very soon,” Murchison went on. “Thankfully it isn’t mine to make. I don’t have to mention the Cromsaggar Incident, because we must all be remembering it, when Lioren used untested medication and came close to committing species genocide. It isn’t the fault of the Wem that they know nothing about the treatment of even the simplest injuries or infections. Seemingly, they have learned to accept the idea that a minor injury nearly always results in death or permanent disability. So they have passed responsibility for Creethar’s treatment to us, the wonderful, medically advanced off-worlders. And what are we doing? We are trusting to the patient’s natural resistance to fight off what should be a minor infection.
