These people didn't know page one about the regulation way to run a hospital. Our able-bodied comrades (the ones suffering from nothing but high acceleration) were already on their way, in glorified golf carts, when I was again lifted out and placed in another golf cart (gurney, wheelchair, floating couch). Rabbi Ezra was there in his wheelchair. Hazel was with us and carrying Tree-San and a Sears-labeled package containing Naomi's costume. The spaceplane had vanished; I had barely had time to tell Laz (Lor?) that Dr. Hubert sent his love. She had sniffed. "If he thinks sweet talk will get him out of the doghouse, he had better think again." But her nipples crinkled up, so I assume that she was pleased.
Four of us were left on the roof, we three and one member of the hospital staff, a little dark woman who seemed to combine the best of Mother Eve and Mother Mary without flaunting any of it. Hazel dropped the package on me, handed the bonsai to Reb Ezra, and threw her arms around her. Tammy!"
"Arii sool, m'temqa!" The motherly creature kissed Hazel.
"Reksi, reksi-so very long!"
They broke from the clinch and Hazel said, "Tammy, this is my beloved, Richard."
This got me kissed on the mouth. Tammy put that bundle aside to do it properly. A man kissed by Tammy stays kissed for hours-even if he is wounded, even if she makes it brief.
"And this is our dear friend the Reverend Rabbi Ezra ben David."
He did not get the treatment I got. Tammy curtsied deeply, then kissed his hand. So I showed a clear profit.
Tammy (Tamara) said, "Inside I must get you both that quickly may we repair Richard. But both each my cherished guests will here be through time not short. Hazel? Such room as you with Jubal shared, nay?"
'Tammy, that's a fine idea! 'Cause I'm going to have to be away sometimes. Gentlemen, will you room together while you are patients here?"
I was about to say, "Yeah, sure, but-" when Reb Ezra said, "There's some mixup. Mistress Gwendolyn, please explain to this dear lady that I am not a patient, not a candidate for hospitalization. Perfect health. Not a sniffle, not even a hangnail."
Tamara looked surprised and-no, not troubled but deeply concerned. She stepped close to him, gently touched his left stump. "Are not we your legs to back on put?"
Reb Ezra stopped smiling. "I'm sure you mean well. But I can't wear prosthetics. Truly."
Tamara broke into that other language, speaking to Hazel. She listened, then said, "Father Ezra, Tamara is speaking of real legs. Flesh and blood. They can do it. Three ways they can do it."
Reb Ezra took a deep breath, sighed it out, looked at Tamara. "Daughter, if you can put my legs back on... go ahead! Please," then added something, Hebrew I think.
BOOK THREE - The Light at the End of the Tunnel
XXI
"God created woman to tame man,"
VOLTAIRE 1694-1778
I woke up slowly, letting my soul fit itself gently back into my body. I kept my eyes closed while I spliced onto my memory and reviewed who I was and where I was and what had happened.
Oh, yes, I had married Gwen Novak! Most unexpectedly but what a delightful idea! And then we- Hey! that wasn't yesterday. Yesterday you-
Boy, yesterday you had a busy day! Started in Luna City, bounced to Grinnell- How? Never mind "How" for the nonce. Accept it. Then you bounced to- What had Gwen called it? Hey, wait!-Gwen's real name is Hazel. Or is it? Worry about that later. Hazel called it "Third Earth," Tellus Tertius. Tammy called it something else. Tammy? Oh, sure, "Tamara." Everybody knows Tamara.
Tammy would not let them work on my wounded leg while I was awake- How in hell did I pick up that wound? Am I getting clumsy in my old age? Or was it spotting Bill's face among those fake Shriners? It's not professional to let any surprise slow you down. If your own grandmother shows up in the scrum, shoot her and move on.
How did you know they were not Shriners? That's easy;
Shriners are middle-aged and paunchy; these studs were young
and tough. Combat ready.
Yes, but that's a rationalization, one you just now thought of. So? Nevertheless it's true. But you didn't reason it out yesterday. Hell, no, of course not; at the moment of truth you don't have time to think. You look at a bloke, something about him shouts "Enemy!" and you jump to do unto him before he does unto you. If you use scrum time routing impressions around inside your skull, sorting by type and weighing by logic-you're dead! Instead, you move.
Yesterday you didn't move fast enough.
But we picked the right partner for a fight, didn't we?-a quick little coral snake named Hazel. And any scrum we come out of still with a body temperature of thirty-seven can't be
counted an utter defeat.
Quit trying to kid yourself. You got how many? Two? And she got the rest. And she had to make pick up on you... or you would be stone cold dead this minute.
Maybe I am. Let's check. I opened my eyes.
This room certainly looks like Heaven! But that proves you are not dead, because Heaven is not your destination. Besides, everybody says that when you die, first you go through a long tunnel with a light at the far end, and there your beloved waits for you ... and that did not happen to you. No tunnel. No light at the end of the tunnel. And sadly no Hazel.
So I am not dead and this can't be Heaven and I don't think it's a hospital either. No hospital was ever this beautiful or smelled so good. And where is the regulation racket found in all hospital corridors? All I hear are bird songs and a string trio off somewhere in the distance.
Hey, there's Tree-San!
So Hazel must be close around. Where are you, honey girl?
I need help. Find my foot and hand it to me, will you, please? I can't risk hopping in this gravity; I'm out of practice, and ... well, damn it, I need to pee. Something abooraxly!-my back teeth are floating.
"I see that you are now awake." It was a gentle voice, back of my right ear. I twisted my head to look just as she came around to where I could see her more easily-a young woman, comely, slender, small of bust, long brown hair. She smiled as I caught her eye. "I'm Minerva. What will you have for breakfast? Hazel told me that waffles would please you. But you can have anything you like."
"'Anything'?" I considered it. "How about a brontosaurus roasted over a slow fire?"
"Yes, surely. But that will take longer to prepare than waffles," she answered with perfect seriousness. "Some tidbits while you wait?"
"Go along with you; quit pulling my leg. Speaking of legs, have you seen my artificial foot? Before I eat breakfast I must visit the refresher... and I must have my cork foot to do that. This gravity, you know."
Minerva told me bluntly what to do about it. "This bed has a built-in refresher and you can't use the usual refresher anyhow; you are under spinal block from the waist down. But our arrangements are efficient, truly. So go ahead. Whatever you need to do."
"Uh... I can't." (Truly I could not. When they cut off my foot, the hospital corpsmen had a hell of a time with me. Finally they equipped me with catheter and honey tube until I was able to get as far as the jakes on crutches.)
"You will find that you can. And that it will be all right."
"Uh-" (I couldn't stir either leg, neither the short one nor the long one.) "Mistress Minerva, may I have an ordinary hospital-type bed urinal?"
She looked troubled. "If you wish. But it will not be useful." Then her troubled look changed to a thoughtful one. "I will go find one. But it will take me some time. At least ten minutes. Not a moment less. And I am going to seal your door while I am gone so that no one will disturb you." She added, 'Ten minutes," and headed for a blank wall. It snapped out of her way and she was gone.