The robot nodded gravely. “I promise that you will receive the best of care.”
“I know I will,” Derec said. “Do you have a name?”
“My assigned designation is Human Diagnostic Medicine Specialist 4. However, the supervisor of medicine for this district refers to me as Dr. Galen.”
“Why?”
“He has never explained this to me. However, I have determined that Galen was the name of a Greek physician of the classical age who wrote on the subject of the ‘vital forces’ inhabiting the body. I believe that my supervisor found it amusing to call an advanced diagnostic technician by the name of a primitive medical mystic. Since this question concerns humor, I cannot offer an authoritative conclusion.”
“I think you’re probably right,” Derec said. “You won’t be offended if I call you Dr. Galen? It’s a good bit handier than your other name.”
“Why should I be offended, sir?”
“No reason,” Derec said. At least not when I say it, he added silently. But that supervisor is definitely expressing some hostility. Probably has a secret fantasy of being a family practice doctor on a Settler world instead of tender-to-robots. “Where is your supervisor?”
“On Nexon.”
Derec knew the name: it was one of the larger Spacer worlds, and the second-farthest from Earth. “You said this is Rockliffe Station?”
“That is correct, sir.”
“Where is your local supervisor? The hospital director?”
“Sir, I am hospital director at present.”
Derec frowned. “Maybe you’d better tell me some more about Rockliffe Station, then.”
“Certainly, sir. What would you like to know?”
Rockliffe Station, Dr. Galen explained, was a centuries old Spacer facility, a way station dating from the days when a long interstellar journey could only be managed through a series of shorter Jumps. Dozens of way stations had been built while the Earth emigrants who would become the Spacers were colonizing the fifty worlds that would become their homes.
With the coming of more powerful drives capable of spanning known space in one or two Jumps, most of the way stations had long since been abandoned. A few, of which this was one, had been fortunately enough placed that they outlived their original function.
Rockliffe Station lay in the middle of one of the largest “open” regions along the fringes of Spacer territory, looking out toward the quarantine zone beyond which lay the Settler worlds. There were no livable worlds in the nearest star system, but there was one planet with a crust rich enough in iridium to justify a small mining and processing center.
So Rockliffe had survived on the strength of its usefulness as a listening post on the frontier, as a transshipment point for processed iridium, and a military outpost should relations with the Settlers deteriorate. But those were not reason enough to keep it active at the peak level of the early days-not enough even to maintain a human presence there.
According to Dr. Galen, less than ten percent of the station was occupied, and that entirely by robots. The human supervision they required was provided by means of hypervision and the ships that called every two months.
Only because of the chance that those visiting crews might need its services had the hospital been kept staffed. But the managers on Nexon were realists. Dr. Galen was hospital administrator because his caseload was usually zero, while the only other medical robot on station, a nurse-orderly, had a full schedule of cleaning and maintenance.
No wonder the supervisor makes jokes at Dr.Galen’s expense, Derec thought.
“You seem disturbed by this information,” Dr. Galen said. “Is there a problem?”
Derec thought about the question for a moment. Hehad grown progressively unhappier as Dr. Galen’s explanation had proceeded. But did it matter so much that he apparently was still alone? At least Rockliffe Station was more or less familiar territory, unlike the asteroid colony or the raider ship. He should be able to have his own way more easily here.
“No. No problem,” Derec said. “Except I’d like to know a little more about what happened. How did I get here? You said something about paramedics-”
“I do not know all the details. The dispatcher or dock supervisor would be better sources of information.”
“Tell me what you know.”
“Apparently your ship was disabled following its Jump. Exactly what happened next is not clear. The dispatcher will no doubt want to inquire about the circumstances. However, it appeared as though your ship discarded or released a smaller vessel, a shuttle or lifeboat, before changing course and heading into the Q-zone.”
“They must have cut us loose after the explosion-” Derec said thoughtfully.
“The smaller vessel apparently was following an unacceptable approach vector and did not respond to the dispatcher’s commands. On the assumption that it was a derelict, a tug was dispatched to intercept it and bring it in. When the derelict was boarded you were found and brought here.”
“Did they bring the ship-our ship-in, then?”
“That is my understanding. Of course, my concern since that time has been with your care.”
“Of course,” Derec echoed. If Aranimas’s ship is here, maybe I didn’t lose the artifact after all, he thought joyously. “Listen, Dr. Galen, what would you say to my getting up and doing a little walking? Airbeds are as comfortable as beds get, but I’m tired of just lying here. Maybe I could go see what kind of shape the ship is in, answer any questions the dispatcher has.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Dr. Galen said. “Your injuries are not yet sufficiently healed to permit that.”
“What are my injuries?”
“You suffered flash burns over fifteen percent of your body, primarily over your arms, face, and neck. Three of your ribs were cracked-”
“I must have fallen on the tile I was lifting.”
“-one puncturing your right lung and causing it to collapse. Your right eardrum was perforated and had to be replaced.”
“Frost! How long have I been here?”
“The ship on which you were found was boarded six weeks ago.”
“Six weeks! Was I in a coma or something?”
“Burns are extremely painful, as is reconstructive epidermal surgery,” Dr. Galen said. “I kept you under chemical narcosis during treatment and the initial phase of recovery.”
“I guess I should be grateful. But six weeks-” Belatedly Derec remembered that he had not been alone on the raider ship. “Where’re the others? Wolruf-Alpha-the girl. What’ve they been doing while I was narc’d?”
“I am sorry. The only persons found were yourself and a female human.”
Feeling a sudden tightness in his chest, Derec looked away. It did not mean that Wolruf was dead and Alpha destroyed-there was a chance, perhaps even a good one, that they were on the larger portion of the ship still in space. But it did mean that while Derec had escaped and survived, he had not lived up to his promises to the caninoid. “I’m sorry, Wolruf,” he whispered.
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Never mind,” Derec said. “Tell me about the girl.”
“She was found near you inside the ship-”
“That’s not what I mean. Tell me how she is.”
“Patient Katherine’s physical-”
“Katherine-is that her name?”
“Is there some error?”
“No-no, that’s her,” Derec said. “Where is she?”
Dr. Galen turned away to the right and gestured with his hand. “Orderly, draw the curtain back.”
Derec turned his head to the right. What appeared to be the wall of his room suddenly become transparent, allowing him to see a slight human figure floating in a halo of light. She was naked, and he looked away, faintly embarrassed. When he did, he realized that he was naked, too. It was very straightforward and practical for them to be naked in a hospital, but something of a surprise all the same.
“How is she?”
“Her integumentary injuries were more extensive than your own, but she is healing well. Of course, her chronic condition remains unchanged.”
“What condition is that?”