Star Surgeon | Page 8

was no doubt that Black Doctor Arnquist knew what Dal had been
thinking, just as surely as if he had said it aloud.
Dal shook his head helplessly. "I ... I don't know what you mean."
"I think you do," Doctor Arnquist said. "Please, Dal. Trust me. This is
not the time to lie. The thing that you were planning to do at the
interview would be disastrous, even if it won you an assignment. It
would be dishonest and unworthy."
Then he does know! Dal thought. But how? I couldn't have told him, or
given him any hint. He felt Fuzzy give a frightened shiver on his arm,
and then words were tumbling out of his mouth. "I don't know what
you're talking about, there wasn't anything I was thinking of. I mean,

what could I do? If the council wants to assign me to a ship, they will,
and if they don't, they won't. I don't know what you're thinking of."
"Please." Black Doctor Arnquist held up his hand. "Naturally you
defend yourself," he said. "I can't blame you for that, and I suppose this
is an unforgivable breach of diplomacy even to mention it to you, but I
think it must be done. Remember that we have been studying and
observing your people very carefully over the past two hundred years,
Dal. It is no accident that you have such a warm attachment to your
little pink friend here, and it is no accident that wherever a Garvian is
found, his Fuzzy is with him, isn't that so? And it is no accident that
your people are such excellent tradesmen, that you are so remarkably
skillful in driving bargains favorable to yourselves ... that you are in
fact the most powerful single race of creatures in the whole Galactic
Confederation."
The old man walked to the bookshelves behind him and brought down
a thick, bound manuscript. He handed it across the desk as Dal watched
him. "You may read this if you like, at your leisure. Don't worry, it's
not for publication, just a private study which I have never mentioned
before to anyone, but the pattern is unmistakable. This peculiar talent
of your people is difficult to describe: not really telepathy, but an
ability to create the emotional responses in others that will be most
favorable to you. Just what part your Fuzzies play in this ability of your
people I am not sure, but I'm quite certain that without them you would
not have it."
He smiled at Dal's stricken face. "A forbidden topic, eh? And yet
perfectly true. You know right now that if you wanted to you could
virtually paralyze me with fright, render me helpless to do anything but
stand here and shiver, couldn't you? Or if I were hostile to your wishes,
you could suddenly force me to sympathize with you and like you
enormously, until I was ready to agree to anything you wanted--"
"No," Dal broke in. "Please, you don't understand! I've never done it,
not once since I came to Hospital Earth."
"I know that. I've been watching you."

"And I wouldn't think of doing it."
"Not even at the council interview?"
"Never!"
"Then let me have Fuzzy now. He is the key to this special talent of
your people. Give him to me now, and go to the interview without
him."
Dal drew back, trembling, trying to fight down panic. He brought his
hand around to the soft fur of the little pink fuzz-ball. "I ... can't do
that," he said weakly.
"Not even if it meant your assignment to a patrol ship?"
Dal hesitated, then shook his head. "Not even then. But I won't do what
you're saying, I promise you."
For a long moment Black Doctor Arnquist stared at him. Then he
smiled. "Will you give me your word?
"Yes, I promise."
"Then I wish you good luck. I will do what I can at the interview. But
now there is a bed for you here. You will need sleep if you are to
present your best appearance."
CHAPTER 3
THE INQUISITION
The interview was held in the main council chambers of Hospital
Seattle, and Dal could feel the tension the moment he stepped into the
room. He looked at the long semicircular table, and studied the
impassive faces of the four-star Physicians across the table from him.
Each of the major medical services was represented this morning. In
the center, presiding over the council, was a physician of the White

Service, a Four-star Radiologist whose insignia gleamed on his
shoulders. There were two physicians each, representing the Red
Service of Surgery, the Green Service of Medicine, the Blue Service of
Diagnosis, and finally, seated at either end of the table, the
representatives of the Black Service of