Alan E. Nourse Super Pack. Alan E. Nourse

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 Pathology. Black Doctor Thorvold Arnquist sat to Dal’s left; he smiled faintly as the young Garvian stepped forward, then busied himself among the papers on the desk before him. To Dal’s right sat another Black Doctor who was not smiling.

      Dal had seen him before—the chief co-ordinator of medical education on Hospital Earth, the “Black Plague” of the medical school jokes. Black Doctor Hugo Tanner was large and florid of face, blinking owlishly at Dal over his heavy horn-rimmed glasses. The glasses were purely decorative; with modern eye-cultures and transplant techniques, no Earthman had really needed glasses to correct his vision for the past two hundred years, but on Hugo Tanner’s angry face they added a look of gravity and solemnity that the Black Doctor could not achieve without them. Still glaring at Dal, Doctor Tanner leaned over to speak to the Blue Doctor on his right, and they nodded and laughed unpleasantly at some private joke.

      There was no place for him to sit, so Dal stood before the table, as straight as his five-foot height would allow him. He had placed Fuzzy almost defiantly on his shoulder, and from time to time he could feel the little creature quiver and huddle against his neck as though to hide from sight under his collar.

      The White Doctor opened the proceedings, and at first the questions were entirely medical. “We are meeting to consider this student’s application for assignment to a General Practice Patrol ship, as a probationary physician in the Red Service of Surgery. I believe you are all acquainted with his educational qualifications?”

      There was an impatient murmur around the table. The White Doctor looked up at Dal. “Your name, please?”

      “Dal Timgar, sir.”

      “Your full name,” Black Doctor Tanner rumbled from the right-hand end of the table.

      Dal took a deep breath and began to give his full Garvian name. It was untranslatable and unpronounceable to Earthmen, who could not reproduce the sequence of pops and whistles that made up the Garvian tongue. The doctors listened, blinking, as the complex family structure and ancestry which entered into every Garvian’s full name continued to roll from Dal’s lips. He was entering into the third generation removed of his father’s lineage when Doctor Tanner held up his hand.

      “All right, all right! We will accept the abbreviated name you have used on Hospital Earth. Let it be clear on the record that the applicant is a native of the second planet of the Garv system.” The Black Doctor settled back in his chair and began whispering again to the Blue Doctor next to him.

      A Green Doctor cleared his throat. “Doctor Timgar, what do you consider to be the basic principle that underlies the work and services of physicians of Hospital Earth?”

      It was an old question, a favorite on freshman medical school examinations. “The principle that environments and life forms in the universe may be dissimilar, but that biochemical reactions are universal throughout creation,” Dal said slowly.

      “Well memorized,” Black Doctor Tanner said sourly. “What does it mean?”

      “It means that the principles of chemistry, physiology, pathology and the other life sciences, once understood, can be applied to any living creature in the universe, and will be found valid,” Dal said. “As different as the various life forms may be, the basic life processes in one life form are the same, under different conditions, as the life processes in any other life form, just as hydrogen and oxygen will combine to form water anywhere in the universe where the proper physical conditions prevail.”

      “Very good, very good,” the Green Doctor said. “But tell me this: what in your opinion is the place of surgery in a Galactic practice of medicine?”

      A more difficult question, but one that Dal’s training had prepared him well to answer. He answered it, and faced another question, and another. One by one, the doctors interrogated him, Black Doctor Arnquist among them. The questions came faster and faster; some were exceedingly difficult. Once or twice Dal was stopped cold, and forced to admit that he did not know the answer. Other questions which he knew would stop other students happened to fall in fields he understood better than most, and his answers were full and succinct.

      But finally the questioning tapered off, and the White Doctor shuffled his papers impatiently. “If there are no further medical questions, we can move on to another aspect of this student’s application. Certain questions of policy have been raised. Black Doctor Tanner had some things to say, I believe, as co-ordinator of medical education.”

      The Black Doctor rose ponderously to his feet. “I have some things to say, you can be sure of that,” he said, “but they have nothing to do with this Dal Timgar’s educational qualifications for assignment to a General Practice Patrol ship.” Black Doctor Tanner paused to glare in Dal’s direction. “He has been trained in a medical school on Hospital Earth, and apparently has passed his final qualifying examinations for the Red Service of Surgery. I can’t argue about that.”

      Black Doctor Arnquist’s voice came across the room. “Then why are we having his review, Hugo? Dal Timgar’s classmates all received their assignments automatically.”

      “Because there are other things to consider here than educational qualifications,” Hugo Tanner said. “Gentlemen, consider our position for a moment. We have thousands of probationary physicians abroad in the galaxy at the present time, fine young men and women who have been trained in medical schools on Hospital Earth, and now are gaining experience and judgment while fulfilling our medical service contracts in every part of the confederation. They are probationers, but we must not forget that we physicians of Hospital Earth are also probationers. We are seeking a permanent place in this great Galactic Confederation, which was in existence many thousands of years before we even knew of its existence. It was not until our own scientists discovered the Koenig star-drive, enabling us to break free of our own solar system, that we were met face to face with a confederation of intelligent races inhabiting the galaxy—among others, the people from whom this same Dal Timgar has come.”

      “The history is interesting,” Black Doctor Arnquist broke in, “but really, Hugo, I think most of us know it already.”

      “Maybe we do,” Doctor Tanner said, flushing a little. “But the history is significant. Permanent membership in the confederation is contingent on two qualifications. First, we must have developed a star-drive of our own, a qualification of intelligence, if you will. The confederation has ruled that only races having a certain level of intelligence can become members. A star-drive could only be developed with a far-reaching understanding of the physical sciences, so this is a valid criterion of intelligence. But the second qualification for confederation membership is nothing more nor less than a question of usefulness.”

      The presiding White Doctor looked up, frowning. “Usefulness?”

      “Exactly. The Galactic Confederation, with its exchange of ideas and talents, and all the wealth of civilization it has to offer, is based on a division of labor. Every member must have something to contribute, some special talent. For Earthmen, the talent was obvious very early. Our technology was primitive, our manufacturing skills mediocre, our transport and communications systems impossible. But in our understanding of the life sciences, we have far outstripped any other race in the galaxy. We had already solved the major problems of disease and longevity among our own people, while some of the most advanced races in the confederation were being reduced to helplessness by cyclic plagues which slaughtered their populations, and were caused by nothing more complex than a simple parasitic virus. Garv II is an excellent example.”

      One of the Red Doctors cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I don’t quite see the connection. Nobody is arguing about our skill as doctors.”

      “Of course not,” Black Doctor Tanner said. “The point is that in all the galaxy, Earthmen are by their very nature the best doctors, outstripping the most advanced physicians on any other planet. And this, gentlemen, is our bargaining point. We are useful to the Galactic Confederation only as physicians. The confederation needed us badly enough