The COMPLEAT Collected SFF Works, page 716
"The fur was indeed highly mobile," Lioren continued, "so much so that long tufts of it wrapped around and became entangled in my digits. For a moment my hand was held tightly against the skin, and I was afraid to pull it free in case I uprooted strands of the newly grown fur. I was aware of my palm being wet but was unsure whether the perspiration was the patient's or my own, and at the time I had no idea that the sudden presence of moisture was associated with the creature's mechanism of transfer. Shortly afterward I removed my hand from the fur without difficulty, congratulated Patient Morredeth on its cure, then left to visit other patients."
"But didn't you feel anything?" Hewlitt said before anyone else could speak, "Like better, healthier, or at least different? Did you feel anything at all?"
O'Mara frowned at Hewlitt before returning his attention to Lioren. He said, "They would have been my questions, too. Well, Padre?"
"I do not remember any unusual feelings," Lioren replied, "nor was I expecting them. Perhaps my present feeling of being close to another one of the virus creature's ex-hosts was obscured by my relief and pleasure over Morredeth's cure. As well, my health is excellent so it would be difficult for me to feel better physically, although I am less certain about the health of my mind. Apparently our virus creature's ability as a healer does not extend to clinical psychology."
What kind of psychological problem, Hewlitt thought, could be troubling a highly moral and altruistic being whose popularity among the patients and staff was second only to that of Prilicla? He was wondering if he dared ask when the answer was provided by the chief psychologist.
"Padre," he said, "you were exonerated of all guilt for the deaths of the Cromsaggar, and soon, I hope, your subconscious will also accept that verdict. But while we are on the subject, on Cromsag you were seriously injured and given emergency treatment by a ship's medic not fully experienced in Tarlan physiology. As a result there was some minor scarring. Are the scars still visible?"
"I don't know," said Lioren, "because I rarely look closely at my own body. Narcissism is unknown among Tarlans. Shall I remove my cloak?"
"Please," said O'Mara.
Two of Lioren's medial hands emerged from slits in its long, blue cloak and began releasing the fastenings. Feeling vaguely embarrassed, he looked at Prilicla, who was hovering close by, and whispered, "Should I turn my back?"
"No, friend Hewlitt," the empath replied. "Tarlans do not subscribe to the Earth-human nudity taboos, and the Blue Cloak of Tarla that it wears is a symbol of professional and academic eminence as well as providing a site for many concealed, internal pockets. Look closely. Friend Lioren has turned completely around and, and I see no scars."
"Because there are none," said Lioren. Its four eyes were turned downward and hanging from each stalk like single, heavy fruit. "The surgery was neat though hurried so that the scars were not obvious, but now they have completely disappeared."
O'Mara nodded and said, "Apparently our virus has left you its usual visitor's card, a perfectly healed and healthy body. That is all the confirmation we need that you were a host. Or maybe you still are." He looked at Prilicla. "Is the virus still in residence?"
"It is not," the empath replied. "There is only one source of emotional radiation emanating from the Padre and it is its own. At this range, if another intelligence was present I would detect it at once."
"You would detect it without any possibility of error," asked O'Mara, "regardless of the species of the host?"
"Yes, friend O'Mara," Prilicla replied. "I could not help but detect it. Emotionally its presence would be obvious, as obvious as if you were to grow a second, thinking head ..."
O'Mara actually smiled. "In this medical madhouse that might be an advantage."
"I am less certain with a person like friend Conway," the empath went on, "who thinks he has eight or nine minds. That confuses the emotional radiation and adds an element of doubt."
"Diagnostician Conway," said Hewlitt firmly, "is not a former host."
"I concur," said Lioren.
"And I'm glad," Murchison said, laughing. "Having a multiply absentminded husband is bad enough."
The chief psychologist gave a single, impatient tap on his desktop and said, "We digress. For reasons that are obvious we must treat the discovery of the creature's present whereabouts as a matter of extreme urgency."
The reasons are not obvious to me, Hewlitt thought, but he was not being given the chance to ask questions.
"To find it we have one empathic detector who can spot its presence provided the host is within conversational distance and is not a diagnostician, and two ex-hosts who can only identify the people who have already been inhabited if they are within visual range. In both cases the exact distance involved has yet to be established. All of these former hosts as well as the current one must be traced without delay. We are fairly sure that Hewlitt's only contact within the hospital was Patient Morredeth, from whom the Padre received the virus before it moved to another patient ..."
"With respect," Lioren broke in, "it might not have been to another patient."
O'Mara gave a small, irritated nod and said, "Padre, I have not forgotten that your work includes counseling members of the staff as well as patients. You must interview all of them again, identify the one who inherited the virus from you, and, if it is no longer in residence, trace and talk to all of that person's subsequent contacts until you find the present host. Report the location to this department, request Monitor security assistance and a medical quarantine, and remain with the entity concerned until Dr. Prilicla arrives to confirm the presence of the virus.
"Little friend," he went on, "if you have no objections I would like you to carry out a simultaneous search, initially of the warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing wards, main dining hall, and recreation level. You may well find the creature first. But whoever does find it, regardless of the host species, it must be physically isolated, restrained, and the necessary steps taken to prevent the virus from transferring to another host. You will then try to use your projective empathy to reassure the virus entity until we can devise a better method of communication. But on no account must you operate beyond your limits of physical endurance. We need you as a detector and communicator, not a casualty."
"I am stronger than I look, friend O'Mara," said Prilicla. "Well, a little stronger."
The Earth-humans in the room laughed, including O'Mara, who went on, "There are two reasons why I want Hewlitt and the Padre to operate as a team. One is that I do not fully understand the vague and perhaps untrustworthy feeling of recognition that you have described as existing between former hosts, so that if you act together there would be less chance of both of you missing a contact. The second is that an ex-patient running loose inside the hospital, especially one who has a limited knowledge of its geography or experience of avoiding accidental damage by other life-forms, would very soon be readmitted as a casualty unless he had a, well, guardian angel in attendance. For this reason you have been transferred to accommodation closer to the Padre. Do either of you object to this arrangement?"
Hewlitt shook his head and watched while Lioren lowered two of its eyes in a gesture which probably meant the same thing.
"Good," said O'Mara. "But you should think before agreeing so quickly to anything. I want both of you to spend every waking moment on this search. Since Prilicla is uncertain about its ability to isolate the virus from the other taped entities inhabiting their minds, your first step will be to eliminate the diagnosticians. There is a meeting in three hours' time on Level Eighty-Three, Lioren knows where, and in view of the problem with the hospital's power-generation system, they will all attend. Wait outside the entrance, take a good look at them as they go in, and report your findings to me without delay. You will have many problems, Hewlitt, but the Padre will help you with them. Unless you two have anything else to contribute, this ends the non-medical part of the discussion."
"Wait," said Hewlitt. "I'm worried about the power problem you mentioned. When Rhabwar was coming in we were told that the main reactor was ..."
"Worry if you must," O'Mara broke in. "It is a technical problem to which we cannot begin to suggest a solution, and we have medical problems enough without us wasting our time trying."
He nodded toward the door.
Fear was still his predominant emotion, Hewlitt thought as he traveled once again through the crowded, three-dimensional maze of hospital corridors on foot. He had not realized at the time how pleasant it had been to be riding in the security of a gravity litter driven by a Hudlar nurse so physically massive that everyone gave them the widest possible berth, and he knew that his present experience should have been even more terrifying. But the other-species confrontations, which could have resulted in physical and possibly life-threatening collisions, had not occurred because there was always a firm, medial Tarlan hand on his shoulder guiding him out of trouble. The reason he was so afraid but not paralyzed with fear was very difficult to understand.
He decided that his strange absence of terror must be due in part to Lioren, who kept talking about every walking, crawling, or wriggling nightmare they passed as if they were mutual acquaintances, and frequently in terms which, if the information was not already widely known as gossip, was stretching the rules of confidentiality to their elastic limits. A nightmare, he thought, should not have amusing stories told about it if it was to retain its full, terrifying effect. He wondered if he was at last beginning to see these creatures for what they were, and feeling an at times fearful curiosity about them instead of merely looking at them and wanting to react with his feet by running away.
Perhaps his uncharacteristic and continuing interest in the hospital's extraterrestrials was a form of contagious curiosity and a legacy of the virus creature. He was about to mention the idea to the Padre when they turned into a long side corridor that, apart from themselves, was silent and empty.
"Staff accommodation," Lioren explained. "It isn't always as quiet as this, but right now the occupants are either on duty or asleep. This one is yours. I won't go in because the place will be crowded enough with just you in it. But you should find it comfortable enough. Go in and look around."
The room was a little larger in area but with a lower ceiling than his cabin on the ship that had brought him to Sector General. He was relieved to see that the overhead lighting was recessed, because his hair was brushing against the ceiling. "The beds are much too short," he protested. "My feet will hang over the end onto the floor."
"Naturally," said the Padre, bending forward so that it could move one eye and an arm into the room. "It belongs to two Nidians who are absent on a ship-rescue training course for the next few weeks. The beds are movable and can be joined end-to-end. Behind the brown door is a multispecies washroom similar to the one you used in Ward Seven. I hope the wall decorations are not distasteful to you. Both of the former occupants are male and obviously prefer Nidian female subjects to landscapes."
Hewlitt looked at the pictures of red-furred teddy bears in what must have been provocative poses and tried not to laugh. He said, "I do not find them offensive."
"Good," said Lioren. "Over there is your control console. The seat is height-adjustable, the keys are large enough for Earth-human digits, and the display screen can be fine-tuned to your visual requirements. You can call up the usual entertainment, library, and training channels, and the yellow studs enclosed by the green rectangle control the menu display and selection instructions for the food dispenser. Are you as hungry as I am? Would you like to rest or go to the dining hall?"
"Yes," said Hewlitt, "and I don't know. Squeeze inside, I want to talk. Can I order something for us, and what would you suggest?"
Lioren hesitated, "By tomorrow your dispenser will have been reprogrammed to supply basic Earth meals," it said. "The taste difference between Nidian and Earth-human food is practically indistinguishable, and equally revolting to a Tarlan. I would prefer to use the main dining hall and so, I feel sure, would you. There the own-species menu is more extensive so that you would have no trouble finding something you like."
It was Hewlitt's turn to hesitate. He said, "Will it be very crowded? Worse than the corridors, I mean? And how am I expected to, well, behave?"
"All of the warm-blooded oxygen-breathers on the staff dine there," said the Padre, "although not, you will be pleased to hear, at the same time. Everyone will be sitting, kneeling, or standing around tables and eating, not trying to avoid colliding with each other. Besides, if we can find an empty table close to the entrance—and there should be no problem there, because it is not a popular area—we will be able to work while we eat."
"Work?" said Hewlitt, feeling stupid. Too much was happening to him in too short a time. "How?"
"By exercising our newly acquired talent for detection, "said the Padre, "and scanning the staff members as they arrive or leave for evidence of past occupation by the virus. Even if the results are negative, it will be an effective method of eliminating a large number of staff members from the search so that we can concentrate more of our available time on the patients and on-duty ward staff. The present host must be found, quickly. A virus entity like that loose in a multispecies hospital doesn't bear thinking about."
"But why?" asked Hewlitt. "So far as I can see the creature has done no harm to anyone, the reverse in fact. The hospital is in the business of healing people and so is the virus creature. Why is everybody so worried about it? I wanted to ask O'Mara about that earlier but he didn't give me the chance. And on Rhabwar they avoided the question."
Lioren backed into the corridor and waited until Hewlitt had closed the room door behind him before it said, "Regrettably, I must do the same."
"But why, dammit?" Hewlitt said angrily. "I'm not a patient anymore. You don't have to keep medical secrets from me."
"Because we don't have the answer for you," Lioren lied. "Your mind will be easier if we do not burden it with the unnecessary weight of our own fears and uncertainties."
"Personally," said Hewlitt, "I prefer uneasiness to ignorance."
"Personally," said Lioren, "I prefer to expect the worst while hoping for the best, which means that I am never disappointed when a result is less than a total disaster or, as may well be the case here, our concern is unfounded. We must avoid frightening ourselves unnecessarily. And the answer to your earlier question is that there aren't any."
"Any what?" said Hewlitt.
"Table manners," said the Padre. "Nobody will care about your method of ingestion, nor will they mind if you deliberately avoid looking at a table companion to whom you are talking in order to avoid seeing the disgusting messes some of us push into our mouths.
"And now, Patient Hewlitt," it ended, "we have work to do as well as food to eat."
Chapter Twenty-Six
ON RHABWAR he had watched Prilicla weave strands of Earth spaghetti, its favorite non-Cinrusskin dish, into lengths of slim, yellow cable that it had drawn into its tiny mouth while hovering above its platter; and Naydrad, who did not use its hands while eating but buried half of its narrow, conical head in the shredded, oily green stuff it preferred until the bowl was empty; and even the shape-changer, Danalta, who sat on top of or leaned against anything it wished to digest until only the desiccated, inedible remains were left. And earlier he had shared Ward Seven's dining table with Bowab, Horrantor, and Morredeth. The result, he was pleased to discover, was that he was able to watch the Padre refueling without the slightest trace of abdominal discomfort.
Lioren ate using the fingers of two of its upper, manipulatory appendages, with the tiny hands encased in a pair of silvered, disposable gloves that had arrived, like Hewlett's knife and fork, in the utensils pack on its food dispenser tray. The Padre was precise and almost dainty in its movements as the food was lifted to its eating orifice, and the lumps of brown and yellow spongy material being consumed were too strange for Hewlitt to imagine what they might be or to feel repelled by them.
He hoped that the reverse also held true, because his synthesized steak was very good. There was no way of knowing; Lioren had not spoken since they had entered the dining hall.
"We've eaten," said Hewlitt with a glance toward the nearby entrance, where a group of Kelgians intending to dine was dividing around the massive form of a Tralthan who was just leaving, "but so far we haven't been working. Or did you feel something from somebody that I missed?"
"No," Lioren replied, and resumed eating.
It sounded irritated and impatient. More than two hundred staff members had walked, slithered, wriggled, or lumbered past their table since they had begun the meal. Like himself, the other might have been beginning to wonder if their ability to detect former virus hosts was mostly imagination or self-delusion.
"Perhaps the feeling, immaterial bond, or whatever it is works only between Tarlans, Earth-humans, and cats who are already well acquainted with each other," he said, when the silence lengthened, "and we don't know any of these people well enough for the before-and-after difference to register. Do you think we're wasting our time here?"
"No," said Lioren again. It took a moment to clear its plate, then went on, "The staff duty rosters are arranged so that the dining hall will not, in spite of what your eyes and ears are telling you, be overcrowded. But at any given time there is less than five percent of the warm-blooded oxygen-breathing staff using it. The Illensan chlorine-breathers, the Hudlars, the ultra-low-temperature methane life-forms, and the other exotic types have their own arrangements, as also have the patients. You are mistaking an early absence of results for failure."
"I understand," said Hewlitt. "You are telling me, tactfully, that I must be a more patient ex-patient and we should continue as we are doing."
"No," said Lioren once again. "We are not ..."
There was an interruption from the menu-selection unit, which was displaying a red, flashing screen while its speaker began repeating a translated message in a brisk, officious voice.
