Star Surgeon | Page 6

intelligent marine races that required specialized hospital
care. The depths of Puget Sound served as a vast aquatic ward system
where creatures which normally lived in salt-water oceans on their
native planets could be cared for, and the specialty physicians who
worked with marine races had facilities here for research and teaching
in their specialty. The dry-land sectors of the hospital were organized to
support the aquatic wards; the surgeries, the laboratories, the

pharmacies and living quarters all were arranged on the periphery of
the salt-water basin, and rapid-transit tubes carried medical workers,
orderlies, nurses and physicians to the widespread areas of the hospital
city.
The pathology sector lay to the north of the city, and Black Doctor
Arnquist was the chief pathologist of Hospital Seattle. Dal found a
northbound express tube, climbed into an empty capsule, and pressed
the buttons for the pathology sector. Presently the capsule was shifted
automatically into the pressure tube that would carry him thirty miles
north to his destination.
It was the first time Dal had ever visited a Black Doctor in his quarters,
and the idea made him a little nervous. Of all the medical services on
Hospital Earth, none had the power of the Black Service of Pathology.
Traditionally in Earth medicine, the pathologists had always occupied a
position of power and discipline. The autopsy rooms had always been
the "Temples of Truth" where the final, inarguable answers in medicine
were ultimately found, and for centuries pathologists had been the
judges and inspectors of the profession of medicine.
And when Earth had become Hospital Earth, with status as a
probationary member of the Galactic Confederation of Worlds, it was
natural that the Black Service of Pathology had become the governors
and policy-makers, regimenting every aspect of the medical services
provided by Earth physicians.
Dal knew that the medical training council, which would be reviewing
his application in just a few hours, was made up of physicians from all
the services--the Green Service of Medicine, the Blue Service of
Diagnosis, the Red Service of Surgery, as well as the Auxiliary
Services--but the Black Doctors who sat on the council would have the
final say, the final veto power.
He wondered now why Black Doctor Arnquist wanted to see him. At
first he had thought there might be special news for him, word perhaps
that his assignment had come through after all, that the interview
tomorrow would not be held. But on reflection, he realized that didn't

make sense. If that were the case, Doctor Arnquist would have said so,
and directed him to report to a ship. More likely, he thought, the Black
Doctor wanted to see him only to soften the blow, to help him face the
decision that seemed inevitable.
He left the pneumatic tube and climbed on the jitney that wound its
way through the corridors of the pathology sector and into the quiet,
austere quarters of the resident pathologists. He found the proper
concourse, and moments later he was pressing his thumb against the
identification plate outside the Black Doctor's personal quarters.
* * * * *
Black Doctor Thorvold Arnquist looked older now than when Dal had
last seen him. His silvery gray hair was thinning, and there were tired
lines around his eyes and mouth that Dal did not remember from before.
The old man's body seemed more wispy and frail than ever, and the
black cloak across his shoulders rustled as he led Dal back into a
book-lined study.
The Black Doctor had not yet gone to bed. On a desk in the corner of
the study several books lay open, and a roll of paper was inserted in the
dicto-typer. "I knew you would get the message when you arrived," he
said as he took Dal's pack, "and I thought you might be later than you
planned. A good trip, I trust. And your friend here? He enjoys shuttle
travel?" He smiled and stroked Fuzzy with a gnarled finger. "I suppose
you wonder why I wanted to see you."
Dal Timgar nodded slowly. "About the interview tomorrow?"
"Ah, yes. The interview." The Black Doctor made a sour face and
shook his head. "A bad business for you, that interview. How do you
feel about it?"
Dal spread his hands helplessly. As always, the Black Doctor's
questions cut through the trimming to the heart of things. They were
always difficult questions to answer.

"I ... I suppose it's something that's necessary," he said finally.
"Oh?" the Black Doctor frowned. "But why necessary for you if not for
the others? How many were there in your class, including all the
services? Three hundred? And out of the three hundred only one was
refused assignment." He looked up sharply at Dal, his pale blue eyes
very alert in his aged face.