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. “Right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you really feel it’s just normal procedure that your application is being challenged?”
“No, sir.”
“How do you feel about it, Dal? Angry, maybe?”
Dal squirmed. “Yes, sir. You might say that.”
“Perhaps even bitter,” the Black Doctor said.
“I did as good work as anyone else in my class,” Dal said hotly. “I did my part as well as anyone could, I didn’t let up once all the way through. Bitter! Wouldn’t you feel bitter?”
The Black Doctor nodded slowly. “Yes, I imagine I would,” he said, sinking down into the chair behind the desk with a sigh. “As a matter of fact, I do feel a little bitter about it, even though I was afraid that it might come to this in the end. I can’t blame you for your feelings.” He took a deep breath. “I wish I could promise you that everything would be all right tomorrow, but I’m afraid I can’t. The council has a right to review your qualifications, and it holds the power to assign you to a patrol ship on the spot, if it sees fit. Conceivably, a Black Doctor might force the council’s approval, if he were the only representative of the Black service there. But I will not be the only Black Doctor sitting on the council tomorrow.”
“I know that,” Dal said.
Doctor Arnquist looked up at Dal for a long moment. “Why do you want to be a doctor in the first place, Dal? This isn’t the calling of your people. You must be the one Garvian out of millions with the patience and peculiar mental make-up to permit you to master the scientific disciplines involved in studying medicine. Either you are different from the rest of your people—which I doubt—or else you are driven to force yourself into a pattern foreign to your nature for very compelling reasons. What are they? Why do you want medicine?”
It was the hardest question of all, the question Dal had dreaded. He knew the answer, just as he had known for most of his life that he wanted to be a doctor above all else. But he had never found a way to put the reasons into words. “I can’t say,” he said slowly. “I know, but I can’t express it, and whenever I try, it just sounds silly.”
“Maybe your reasons don’t make reasonable sense,” the old man said gently.
“But they do! At least to me, they do,” Dal said. “I’ve always wanted to be a doctor. There’s nothing else I want to do. To work at home, among my people.”
“There was a plague on Garv II, wasn’t there?” Doctor Arnquist said. “A cyclic thing that came back again and again. The cycle was broken just a few years ago, when the virus that caused it was finally isolated and destroyed.”
“By the physicians of Hospital Earth,” Dal said.
“It’s happened again and again,” the Black Doctor said. “We’ve seen the same pattern repeated a thousand times across the galaxy, and it has always puzzled us, just a little.” He smiled. “You see, our knowledge and understanding of the life sciences here on Earth have always grown hand in hand with the physical sciences. We had always assumed that the same thing would happen on any planet where a race has developed intelligence and scientific methods of study. We were wrong, of course, which is the reason for the existence of Hospital Earth and her physicians today, but it still amazes us that with all the technology and civilization in the galaxy, we Earthmen are the only people yet discovered who have developed a broad knowledge of the processes of life and illness and death.”
The old man looked up at his visitor, and Dal felt his pale blue eyes searching his face. “How badly do you want to be a doctor, Dal?”
“More than anything else I know,” Dal said.
“Badly enough to do anything to achieve your goal?”
Dal hesitated, and stroked Fuzzy’s head gently. “Well . . . almost anything.”
The Black Doctor nodded. “And that, of course, is the reason I had to see you before this interview, my friend. I know you’ve played the game straight right from the beginning, up to this point. Now I beg of you not to do the thing that you are thinking of doing.”
For a moment Dal just stared at the little old man in black, and felt the fur on his arms and back rise up. A wave of panic flooded his mind. He knows! he thought frantically. He must be able to read minds! But he thrust the idea away. There was no way that the Black Doctor could know. No race of creatures in the galaxy had that power. And yet there was no doubt that Black Doctor Arnquist knew what Dal had been thinking, just as surely as if he had said it aloud.