Star Surgeon | Page 5

would have been far easier never to have started
than to have his goal snatched away at the last minute. The notice of
the council meeting left no doubt in his mind. He had failed. There
would be lots of talk, some perfunctory debate for the sake of the
record, and the medical council would wash their hands of him once
and for all. The decision, he was certain, was already made. It was just
a matter of going through the formal motions.
Dal felt the motors change in pitch, and the needle-nosed shuttle plane
began to dip once more toward the horizon. Ahead he could see the
sprawling lights of Hospital Seattle, stretching from the Cascade
Mountains to the sea and beyond, north to Alaska and south toward the
great California metropolitan centers. Somewhere down there was a
council room where a dozen of the most powerful physicians on
Hospital Earth, now sleeping soundly, would be meeting tomorrow for
a trial that was already over, to pass a judgment that was already
decided.
He slipped Fuzzy back into his pocket, shouldered his pack, and waited
for the ship to come down for its landing. It would be nice, he thought
wryly, if his reservations for sleeping quarters in the students' barracks
might at least be honored, but now he wasn't even sure of that.
In the port of Seattle he went through the customary baggage check. He
saw the clerk frown at his ill-fitting clothes and not-quite-human face,

and then read his passage permit carefully before brushing him on
through. Then he joined the crowd of travelers heading for the city
subways. He didn't hear the loudspeaker blaring until the announcer
had stumbled over his name half a dozen times.
"Doctor Dal Timgar, please report to the information booth."
He hurried back to central information. "You were paging me. What is
it?"
"Telephone message, sir," the announcer said, his voice surprisingly
respectful. "A top priority call. Just a minute."
Moments later he had handed Dal the yellow telephone message sheet,
and Dal was studying the words with a puzzled frown:
CALL AT MY QUARTERS ON ARRIVAL REGARDLESS OF
HOUR STOP URGENT THAT I SEE YOU STOP REPEAT
URGENT
The message was signed THORVOLD ARNQUIST, BLACK
SERVICE and carried the priority seal of the Four-star Pathologist. Dal
read it again, shifted his pack, and started once more for the subway
ramp. He thrust the message into his pocket, and his step quickened as
he heard the whistle of the pressure-tube trains up ahead.
Black Doctor Arnquist, the man who had first defended his right to
study medicine on Hospital Earth, now wanted to see him before the
council meeting took place.
For the first time in days, Dal Timgar felt a new flicker of hope.
CHAPTER 2
HOSPITAL SEATTLE
It was a long way from the students' barracks to the pathology sector
where Black Doctor Arnquist lived. Dal Timgar decided not to try to go

to the barracks first. It was after midnight, and even though the
message had said "regardless of hour," Dal shrank from the thought of
awakening a physician of the Black Service at two o'clock in the
morning. He was already later arriving at Hospital Seattle than he had
expected to be, and quite possibly Black Doctor Arnquist would be
retiring. It seemed better to go there without delay.
But one thing took priority. He found a quiet spot in the waiting room
near the subway entrance and dug into his day pack for the pressed
biscuit and the canister of water he had there. He broke off a piece of
the biscuit and held it up for Fuzzy to see.
Fuzzy wriggled down onto his hand, and a tiny mouth appeared just
below the shoe-button eyes. Bit by bit Dal fed his friend the biscuit,
with squirts of water in between bites. Finally, when the biscuit was
gone, Dal squirted the rest of the water into Fuzzy's mouth and rubbed
him between the eyes. "Feel better now?" he asked.
The creature seemed to understand; he wriggled in Dal's hand and
blinked his eyes sleepily. "All right, then," Dal said. "Off to sleep."
Dal started to tuck him back into his jacket pocket, but Fuzzy abruptly
sprouted a pair of forelegs and began struggling fiercely to get out
again. Dal grinned and replaced the little creature in the crook of his
arm. "Don't like that idea so well, eh? Okay, friend. If you want to
watch, that suits me."
He found a map of the city at the subway entrance, and studied it
carefully. Like other hospital cities on Earth, Seattle was primarily a
center for patient care and treatment rather than a supply or
administrative center. Here in Seattle special facilities existed for the
care of the