the specifics they had devised for dissolving it would produce large quantities of toxic gases—toxic to the patient as well as the attending physicians—and that the shell material of the barnacles would be instantly dissolved by this solvent and that it would not be good for the patient’s skin and underlying tissue, either. They went back to drilling and chipping.
Murchison, who was continually withdrawing micro-specimens from the areas affected by the rootlets, was informative but unhelpful.
“I’m not suggesting that you should abandon this one,” she said sympathetically, “but you should start thinking about it. In addition to the widespread tissue wastage, there is evidence of structural damage to the wing muscles—damage which may well have been self-inflicted—and I think the heart has ruptured. This will mean major surgical repairs as well as—”
“This muscle and heart damage,” said Conway sharply. “Couldit have been caused by the patient trying to get out of its casing?”
“It is possible but not likely,” she replied in a voice which reminded him that he was not talking to a junior intern and that past and present relationships could change with very little notice. “That coating is hard, but it is relatively very thin and the leverage of the patient’s wings is considerable. I would say that the heart and muscle damage occurred before the patient was encased.”
“I’m sorry if…” began Conway.
“There is also the fact,” she went on coldly, “that the barnacles are clustered thickly about the patient’s head and along the spine. Even with our tissue and nerve regeneration techniques, the patient may never be able to think or move itself even if we are successful in returning it to a technically living state.”
“I hadn’t realized,” said Conway dully, “that it was as serious as that. But there must be something we can do…” He tried to pull his face muscles into a smile. “…if only to preserve Brenner’s illusions about the miracle-workers of Sector General.”
Brenner had been looking from one to the other, obviously wondering whether this was a spirited professional discussion or the beginning of some kind of family fight. But the Lieutenant was tactful as well as observant. He said, “I would have given up a long time ago.”
Before either of them could reply the communicator chimed and Chief of Pathology Thornnastor was framed in the screen.
“My department,” said the Tralthan, “has worked long and diligently to discover a method of removing the coating material by chemical means, but in vain. The material is, however, affected by intense heat. At high temperatures the surface crumbles, the ashy deposit can be scraped or blown away and heat again applied. The process can be continued safely until the coating is very thin, after which it could be removed in large sections without harm to the patient.”
Conway obtained the temperature and thickness figures, thanked Thornnastor and then used the communicator to call the maintenance section for cutting torches and operators. He had not forgotten Murchison’s doubts regarding the advisability of attempting a cure, but he had to go on trying. He did not know that thegreat, diseased bird would end as a winged vegetable, and he would not know until they knew everything possible about the disease which was affecting it.
Because the heat treatment was untried they began near the tail, where the vital organs were deeply buried and where the area had already been disturbed, presumably by the efforts of their medical predecessors.
After only half an hour’s continuous burning they had their first stroke of luck in three days. They discovered a barnacle which was embedded upside down in the patient—its bundle of rootlets fanned out to link up with the other barnacles, but a few of them curved down and past the rim of its shell to enter the patient. The surface rootlet network was clearly visible as the
Learning to Kill: Stories