Man From Atlantis Page 2

  The X-ray technician scowled at the jibe and took another shot. “We’re doing the best we can, Doctor.” “Yeah, right. Move it.”

  The technician scurried out with her photographic plates.

  “What do you think, Doctor?” one of the interns asked, clasping his hands behind him to emulate the resident.

  “What do I think? I think the guy needs a vacation in the Sahara. What should I think?”

  The intern reddened. “I just meant, he seems a little strange.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s just save our curiosity for later, when we’ve kept him from becoming a little dead, if you know what I mean.”

  The captain stood in a corner of the room, surrounded by nodding junior officers.

  Several of the guests clustered around a buffet table, sipping at colorful, fruity drinks.

  “Well, gentlemen,” Elizabeth said, smiling at two Navy men sitting straight-backed on the sofa, right legs crossed over left, hands clasped over knees, “how are things on the bounding main?”

  “Well, things are just fine, Dr. Merrill,” said one, nodding.

  “Shipshape would you say?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the young officer smiled, “you might say.

  “Cutbacks being felt yet?” Doug Berkeley asked.

  “Well, you know,” the other officer said, watching his foot bounce in the air, “whatever the President says, we can live with.”

  “Including having women serve on board ships?”

  “Well, yes, sure. Haven’t seen any yet, out our way. But, you know, the Navy is used to doing whatever’s required. My own view,” he glanced around the room, then continued quietly, “is that women won’t be, unh, particularly happy on ships. But if that’s what’s...”

  “If you can’t lick em,” Elizabeth saw the officer blush, “join em.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Lot of changes in the Navy,” Doug offered, “what with beards and so forth, right?”

  “Well, we pride ourselves on being up to date,” the first officer said. “We change with the times.”

  “You guys ever relax?” Elizabeth smiled at them.

  “Oh, yes ma’am,” the officer nodded and smiled back, “but I see what you mean. As far as the two of us are concerned, you know, this is our first time in the captain’s house. And we’re pretty junior, you know.”

  “I understand.” Her eyes showed that she did. “How’s your dolphin work coming?”

  “Oh, it’s real good.” The second officer brightened. “We got a little bad flack, you know, after Vietnam. Rumors about them carrying bombs strapped on their backs and so forth. But I really love those things. They become like friends. They’re as smart as we are, you know. Once we crack their speech patterns, we’ll really have something going.”

  “Or once they crack ours.”

  “That’s a fact.”

  “Maybe they already have,” Doug said.

  “Maybe, Doctor.” The officer chuckled and shook his head. “Boy, I,ll tell you, sometimes you could almost believe they have, the way they respond to you.”

  “The thing I like about them,” Elizabeth said, “is that they seem to have no hostility at all, except when they have to defend themselves or each other, or their human friends.”

  “That’s true, Dr. Merrill. They’re friendly nearly all the time.”

  “Maybe we could learn something from that,” Doug said.

  “I know what you mean, Dr. Berkeley,” the first officer said. “But the trouble with that is, friendly as you and I would like to be with the world, there are too many human beings who just aren’t all that friendly. All dolphins are friendly, you know what I mean? They don’t have to worry about one group of dolphins trying to take over another.”

  “That’s what makes human beings so specially delightful,” Elizabeth said. “Somebody’s always trying to hurt somebody else. Dolphins have apparently discovered that peace is fun enough.”

  “Well, not at any price, ma’am, is my view on peace. I agree with you that dolphins are real nice and all, and they seem to have a lot of fun. But for ali. that, I’d still rather be a human than a dolphin.”

  “Dr. Berkeley?” The captain’s wife strode briskly over to the coffee table.

  “Yes?”

  “Telephone. You can take it right through there, on your left.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” He handed Elizabeth his drink. “Keep it lively, kid,” he said softly.

  She grinned and watched him disappear into the next room.

  “If you’ll excuse us, Dr. Merrill,” the first officer got up and bowed slightly, then the second did the same, “we’re supposed to circulate.

  “Of course. I should probably be doing the same. See you later.”

  Phil Roth, a young, dark-haired man with broad shoulders, in the uniform of a lieutenant commander with severa! service stripes on the chest, came up behind the sofa and leaned over beside Elizabeth. “How are all the frogs and dogs?”

  “Oh, hi, Phil. I got promoted to dolphins.”

  “Any closer to getting your own research operation?”

  “Who knows? I doubt it. Research money is tight like everything else these days. And there are still people who question the abilities of the woman-as-scientist-administrator type. Especially money people. They figure women researchers are fine, as long as they’ve got some stable male to supervise them and keep them from breaking into tears all the time. How about you?”

  “Couple new things. Want to get out of here?”

  “Can’t. Occupied.”

  “Oh? Doesn’t look to me like you’re so—”

  “How are you, Phil?” She put her arm along the sofa back and touched bis hand.

  He stared at her for a few seconds, half smiling. “I’m fine.”

  “You look good.”

  He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. It was a typical comment from Elizabeth, a compliment he didn’t know quite how to take. He supposed it was a simple observation, friendly, nothing more. “The Navy keeps me healthy. Diving and so forth. I’ve got a new assignment that I’m pretty excited about.”

  She waited for him to continue, but he looked away casually. “So tell me.”

  “I’m not supposed to talk a whole lot about it.”

  “You know me. I’m a clam.”

  “Yeah.” In fact, she was. She was a listener, a brain, a counselor, a friend, and, when it came to security, a clam. You could tell her anything or ask her anything, about any subject, and whether she liked what you said or not, she kept it between the two of you. That was, for Phil, one of her most enchanting qualities. One of them. The other main one was that she was so very attractive, a truly beautiful woman, tall, lean, shapely, with sloping dark blue eyes. And she managed to keep an air of mystery about her, which he liked too. Or if he didn’t exactly like it, it made her even more attractive. “I’m going to command the Sea Quest on her next dive.”

  “Hey, really?” She grinned and clasped his hand. “That’s terrificl I’m proud of you. Also I envy you. Where’re you taking her?”

  “Well,” he studied his hands, “I’m really not supposed to say...”

  it bothers you, don’t. We’ll know about it soon enough. That’s really exciting, Phil...”

  Dr. Berkeley leaned against the wall and turned his head toward it, holding the phone tight to his ear. “Wait a minute, wait a minute, slow down. So far what I understand is you found this guy on the beach; you brought him back, you tubed him up, you took pictures. Now, take it from there... What?... It shows what? Slow down... Oh come on...”

  He closed his eyes and nodded as he listened. “I see. And Dr. Bock’s in charge? Well, he knows what he’s doing...” Jordan Bock knew what he was doing, all right. He was as skillful and clever as any resident he’d ever seen. The only trouble with Dr. Bock was, he was too damn young and too damn smart. But in any event, he knew what he was doing, and if Bock wanted him called, it meant something. “Yeah, sure. Be there i
n a few minutes.”

  Phil came around the sofa and sat down next to Elizabeth. “So I was pretty discouraged for a while, and thought about getting out and hitching up with some private outfit—maybe even salvage. But you know how it is with private outfits, never any money and so forth. So this opportunity came along, and I started to do a lot of thinking about the Navy and the budget and what I’d really like to accomplish—crazy dreams like that..”

  “Elizabeth.” Doug walked quickly over. “Sorry, Elizabeth,” he glanced at Phil, “but I have an emergency. Man seems to have forgotten how to breathe. Can I put you in a cab, or...” He glanced again at Phil.

  “Forgotten how to breathe?” Elizabeth leaned forward.

  “Something like that. You interested?”

  “Mind if I tag along?”

  “Let’s go.” He turned and started moving away.

  Phil took Elizabeth’s arm. “Elizabeth, can I talk to you first?”

  “Phil, we’re sort of rushed...” She put her drink down on the coffee table.

  “Just for a minute?”

  She eased out of his grasp, patted his hand, and stood up. “I’m really sorry, Phil, but there’s an emergency, like the doctor said. I’d like to talk to you. We’ll do it soon, okay? And would you make our excuses to the captain?” She squeezed his hand.

  He looked at her for a moment. Then he returned the squeeze, nodded, released her hand, and stood up beside her. “Okay, sure.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s okay. I understand.”

  She smiled, and turned away, then turned back. “Oh, by the way, congratulations, Phil. Really.”

  “Thanks.” He watched her walk away, then moved over to join the crowd around the host.

  Elizabeth caught up with Doug at the front door, and they left together. They got isto his Monte Carlo and headed for the hospital.

  For a while neither of them spoke.

  “Who was that back there?” Doug asked finally.

  “Back where?”

  “At the party, the guy you were talking to.”

  “Oh, Phil Roth. Old friend. He just got the command of the Sea Quest, the Navy’s new super research submersible. I guess he wanted to talk about it. You, by the way, are the only person I tell such things to, so you will not talk about it.”

  “Of course not. But I can see why he wants to. It sounds interesting. And dangerous.”

  “True on both counts, although he’d minimize the danger. He figures the Navy always knows what it’s doing, more or less.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “More or less. The nice thing about the Navy is, they can afford to do things like that, things you couldn’t afford to do on the outside. Of course, it’s still the Navy.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning that the bottom line is always warfare.”

  “Or defense.”

  “Okay. Military, then, however you see it.”

  “Well, you’re part of it, though I must admit you don’t always sound like you are.”

  “I’m first a scientist. It’s a good deal for me. I’m not complaining.”

  “But you want out.”

  “Since when? If I wanted out I’d get out. I just want to run my own research show someday—preferably not connected with the military. But I’m not impatient.”

  “What a lady.”

  “What a chauvinist remark.” She chuckled.

  So did he. “I get confused about that. I never know when I’m complimenting you or when I’m setting myself up to get slapped with an equality poster.”

  “You’re not bad. All men are confused. What was chauvinist about the remark was the fact that if a guy said he’d like to run his own business someday, you would think it was entirely natural and normal. Let’s get inside.”

  In the emergency room, Dr. Bock, the resident, led them over to the view box and turned on the light behind it. He aligned the X-ray photos on the viewer. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said, glancing up at Elizabeth and Doug.

  They leaned to peer over Dr. Bock’s shoulders at the X rays. Dr. Bock looked briefly at Elizabeth. “Are you staff, Doctorr

  “Navy.”

  Doug rubbed his chin and straightened up, still peering at the X rays. “They can’t take a decent portable chest, can they?” He reached around and switched off the light. “You better order another set.”

  “I did,” Dr. Bock said, showing no expression. “You’re looking at them.”

  Doug winced. Of course. Bock would have had the same doubts, and would have already made the double check. Doug switched the light on again and leaned dose to the pictures, tracing his índex finger over the strange, gray shapes in the X rays.

  Rather than normal lungs, what they saw in the pictures appeared to be layers of feathery tissue, membranes with no discernible lobes or outer walls.

  Doug shook his head. “This guy’s had it, I’m afraid. Nearly complete deterioration. No capacity at all. The question is, how did he walk around on the streets with lungs like that? Must have been something eating away inside the tissues for a long time, and then the whole thing just suddenly collapsed into sections. I’m amazed he’s still alive.”

  Elizabeth turned from the pictures and walked over to the bed and stared down at the stricken man. He was trussed up like a turkey. To various spots on his body were connected catheters, intravenous tubes, hanging bottles, monitors. His legs were tightly wrapped in white bandages. His face was blue and dry. His breath came in hoarse and bubbly gasps, growing weaker as she watched. He was comatose, obviously dying. His one free hand moved slightly, his fingers extended as if reaching for something.

  She studied his black hand and dark face, the skin of both showing tiny cracks from dehydration.

  Two nurses stood quietly beside her, shaking their heads in concern.

  The hot overhead lights beat down on the nearly lifeless form.

  “Why isn’t he sweating?” Elizabeth asked softly.

  Doug leaned over beside her. “I don’t think that’s going to make too much difference. Not now.”

  “Can you get a skin biopsy?”

  “We’d have to move him to County,” Dr. Bock said, moving around to the other side of the table.

  “There’s clearly no time for that,” Doug said. “Elizabeth, I’m afraid no one can offer much to someone with desiccated lungs like that.”

  “If that’s what they are.”

  Doug looked at her, startled. “I beg your pardon.”

  “He’s alive, and by all accounts and evidence he shouldn’t be. But he is. Even with his chest like that.” She looked across the bed at Dr. Bock. “Was he by any chance found anywhere near the ocean?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” he said evenly. “Right at the edge of the surf.”

  “Doug, I’d like to bronch him.”

  “Now, Liz,” he smiled slightly, “wouldn’t you rather just go back to the party?”

  She straightened her shoulders and looked at him stonily. “I want this guy bronched, Doug. I want to bronch him myself. Right now.”

  Doug blinked, then nodded to Dr. Bock. “Bronchoscope,” Bock said to the nurses.

  In moments the equipment was gathered and arranged. The bronchoscope tube was passed down the man’s trachea into his bronchial tubes.

  Elizabeth stared closely at the images transmitted on the scope, and commented on what she saw as the tube was worked farther and farther down. A nurse took notes. “... I’m looking into the base of the left bronchial branch... getting down to the lung stem... Now I can see..”

  She stopped. Her eyes narrowed. Her cheeks flushed.

  “Elizabeth?” Doug put a hand on her back, felt its tenseness. “What is it, Elizabeth?”

  “Get an ambulance around here.”

  “But what is it?”

  “Taking him to County?” Dr. Bock asked, signaling to a nurse who stepped to the phone.

  “No”
>
  “But what is it, Liz? What in blazes do you see?”

  She carefully withdrew the- bronchoscope from the man’s throat. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe it just get the ambulance.”

  “Done,” Dr. Bock said.

  “Look, Liz, if you have a theory

  “The man is dying. I know how to save him. I think.” She whirled around to the nearest nurse. “Turn those lights off. Get the tubes out of him. Ali of them.”

  Dr. Bock came quickly around the table and stood face to face with her. “We can’t just blindly release him to you.”

  Elizabeth was breathing hard. “It’s twelve feet to that door. Either you’re going to help me get him out of here or I’m going to do it myself.”

  “But Doctor, we can’t just let him go, without knowing what you—”

  “There’s no time for discussion. I’m taking him!”

  Bock looked at Doug. Doug looked at Elizabeth. Elizabeth looked down at the man whose breathing was a faint rasp.

  “Okay, Dr. Bock,” Doug said. “You heard the lady.”

  “We both did.”

  “Right. Okay. I’ll take responsibility. Let’s move.”

  The wail of the ambulance deepened quickly, then abruptly stopped as it backed up to the emergency-room doors.

  The two attendants pulled out the collapsible ambulance litter, rolled it over to the table, raised it to the same height, and stepped back while the doctors carefully moved the man onto the litter and buckled the straps around him.

  They wheeled it over to the ambulance and pushed it in. Elizabeth and Doug climbed in after it. The attendants scampered around and slid into the front seat.

  The driver looked at Doug in the rear-view mirror. “Sir, where we goin’?”

  “Ask her.”

  “’Scuse me. Ma’am, where we goin’?”

  Elizabeth picked up the man’s dark wrist gently, felt for pulse, and checked her watch. “Fastest way to the oceán.”

  “Ocean?”

  “Right,” Doug snapped. “Let’s roll!”

  “Okay.” The driver shrugged. He wound the ambulance out through the parking lot onto the street and hit the siren. “Uh, ’scuse me, but any particular place at the ocean?”