Party Night on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 10) Read Online Free
Author: E. M. Foner
it?”
“Would you like me to do something else to him while he’s on the table? Make him a little taller perhaps, or fix his astigmatism? That eyeball I removed was rather out of round.”
“Why are you asking me? I’m not a doctor.”
“I guessed that much,” the beetle said sardonically. “Station management has notified his family, and I will revive the patient in two hours when his wife arrives for the scheduled pick-up. There’s nothing further you can do here, and as you can see, we really don’t have space to accommodate casual observers.”
“Mister Hayward was participating in the first day of our training camp when he collapsed,” Woojin said. “I can pay you now or you can bill EarthCent Intelligence.”
The Farling motioned to the med bot, which moved the unconscious body from the operating table to a shelf-like bunk that folded down from one of the walls.
“There will be no charge for today’s emergency services as I am compensated by the Stryx. If you want me to look into your infertility problem, I keep a medical tourism shop in the arrivals concourse on the station core.”
“Is it, uh, do you really think you could help?”
“That depends on how far you’re willing to go,” the beetle replied. “For starters, if you wish to achieve natural reproduction, I would need to examine your partner before suggesting a solution. You are obviously beyond your prime breeding years, and in addition to scar tissue from a previous repair made necessary by…?”
“Shrapnel,” Woojin answered.
“Shrapnel, your reproductive organs show signs of damage from radiation, heat, high G-forces, and too much time spent riding quadrupeds. I could always extract genetic material from you and your mate and whip something up, but I’ve found that many humanoids are uncomfortable with that level of manipulation.”
“You mean we wouldn’t have the same baby who would have resulted through natural conception?” Woojin couldn’t believe that he was having this conversation with a giant insect, but in some ways, it was easier than talking to a human doctor, or Lynx, for that matter.
“Your natural breeding includes a large number of random elements,” the Farling replied. “If I’m going to go to the trouble of piecing together genes to create an embryo, I’m sure there are certain characteristics you would like to achieve.”
“I don’t know,” Woojin said doubtfully. “I wouldn’t want a super-baby or anything. Just a regular kid.”
“I will not mislead you, even though you may wish to be misled,” the surgeon replied seriously. “If you do choose to go the genetic construction route, I will be making choices that are highly unlikely to match the outcome of your biological process. I cannot do things randomly, but I do offer a double-your-money-back guarantee on all reproductive services.”
“Have you ever paid out?”
“Another loaded question,” the Farling buzzed, helping itself to a drink from a refrigerator that looked like it contained blood plasma from at least a hundred different species with circulatory systems. Woojin hoped that the doctor had brought the flask of yellow liquid from home, rather than simply choosing from the available supply. “Yes, I have provided refunds and a penalty payment on three occasions, all of them involving minor errors in specific characteristics requested by parents who were seeking superior offspring, as opposed to helping childless couples conceive.”
The lift tube door slid open, and a young Drazen whose face was frozen in a rictus of shock and pain stumbled out, clutching his bloody tentacle stub behind his head. Immediately behind him came the Drazen ambassador, holding the severed length of tentacle as far from his own body as possible. It was still writhing.
The surgeon used multiple appendages to grab the injured Drazen and lift him bodily onto the table. The injured alien slumped forward after being knocked out with a drug
“Would you like me to do something else to him while he’s on the table? Make him a little taller perhaps, or fix his astigmatism? That eyeball I removed was rather out of round.”
“Why are you asking me? I’m not a doctor.”
“I guessed that much,” the beetle said sardonically. “Station management has notified his family, and I will revive the patient in two hours when his wife arrives for the scheduled pick-up. There’s nothing further you can do here, and as you can see, we really don’t have space to accommodate casual observers.”
“Mister Hayward was participating in the first day of our training camp when he collapsed,” Woojin said. “I can pay you now or you can bill EarthCent Intelligence.”
The Farling motioned to the med bot, which moved the unconscious body from the operating table to a shelf-like bunk that folded down from one of the walls.
“There will be no charge for today’s emergency services as I am compensated by the Stryx. If you want me to look into your infertility problem, I keep a medical tourism shop in the arrivals concourse on the station core.”
“Is it, uh, do you really think you could help?”
“That depends on how far you’re willing to go,” the beetle replied. “For starters, if you wish to achieve natural reproduction, I would need to examine your partner before suggesting a solution. You are obviously beyond your prime breeding years, and in addition to scar tissue from a previous repair made necessary by…?”
“Shrapnel,” Woojin answered.
“Shrapnel, your reproductive organs show signs of damage from radiation, heat, high G-forces, and too much time spent riding quadrupeds. I could always extract genetic material from you and your mate and whip something up, but I’ve found that many humanoids are uncomfortable with that level of manipulation.”
“You mean we wouldn’t have the same baby who would have resulted through natural conception?” Woojin couldn’t believe that he was having this conversation with a giant insect, but in some ways, it was easier than talking to a human doctor, or Lynx, for that matter.
“Your natural breeding includes a large number of random elements,” the Farling replied. “If I’m going to go to the trouble of piecing together genes to create an embryo, I’m sure there are certain characteristics you would like to achieve.”
“I don’t know,” Woojin said doubtfully. “I wouldn’t want a super-baby or anything. Just a regular kid.”
“I will not mislead you, even though you may wish to be misled,” the surgeon replied seriously. “If you do choose to go the genetic construction route, I will be making choices that are highly unlikely to match the outcome of your biological process. I cannot do things randomly, but I do offer a double-your-money-back guarantee on all reproductive services.”
“Have you ever paid out?”
“Another loaded question,” the Farling buzzed, helping itself to a drink from a refrigerator that looked like it contained blood plasma from at least a hundred different species with circulatory systems. Woojin hoped that the doctor had brought the flask of yellow liquid from home, rather than simply choosing from the available supply. “Yes, I have provided refunds and a penalty payment on three occasions, all of them involving minor errors in specific characteristics requested by parents who were seeking superior offspring, as opposed to helping childless couples conceive.”
The lift tube door slid open, and a young Drazen whose face was frozen in a rictus of shock and pain stumbled out, clutching his bloody tentacle stub behind his head. Immediately behind him came the Drazen ambassador, holding the severed length of tentacle as far from his own body as possible. It was still writhing.
The surgeon used multiple appendages to grab the injured Drazen and lift him bodily onto the table. The injured alien slumped forward after being knocked out with a drug
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