TANGLE HOLD
By F. L. WALLACE
Illustrated by EMSH
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science FictionJune 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Somebody was wrapping him in a sheet of ice and spice. Somebody waspulling it tight so that his toes ached and his fingers tingled. Hestill had fingers, and eyes too. He opened his eyes and they turned inopposite directions and couldn't focus on what they saw. He made aneffort, but couldn't keep it up and had to let his eyes flutter shutagain.
"Rest. You're all right." That's where he got the idea of ice andspice—from that voice.
"Mmmm," said Jadiver. He tried to raise his hand, but it wouldn't move.It was good advice—to rest; he couldn't do otherwise. "What happened?"he whispered.
"You had an accident. Remember?"
He didn't. It was his mind playing tricks, of course. It couldn't havebeen pleasant if his memory didn't have access to it.
"Mmmm," he evaded.
"Go to sleep. We'll talk later."
He thought he felt something shoved deep in his flesh, but he may havebeen wrong. In any event, the light that filtered through his closedeyelids faded away and the external world, of which there wasn't much inthe first place, vanished completely.
Later, he awakened. How much later, he didn't know, but it may have beendays. The oppressive languor had left him and he felt capable ofmovement. To prove it to himself, he turned his head. He was alone, andhe thought he recognized where he was. He didn't like it.
There was an odor in the room, but this time it was the kind thatlingers in all hospitals. He tried to sit up, but that was more than hecould manage. He lay there a long time, looking through the heavilyreinforced window; then someone came in.
"You'll live," said the voice behind him—the same voice.
"Think so?" He hadn't intended to turn around, but the spice was backand he wanted to see. It was only the fragrance she wore—there was nonein her voice or demeanor. That was still ice.
When she sat down, he could see that her hair was a shade of copper andthe uniform she wore a dark green. She was not a robot and therefore nota nurse or a guard. It was logical to assume she was a doctor, policevariety—definitely the police.
Thadeus Jadiver sighed. "What am I in for?"
"You're not in for anything. Maybe you should be, but that's not mybusiness," she said in a flat voice. That was the only thing about herthat was flat; the rest curved nicely even under the uniform. "This isan emergency as well as a police hospital. We were close, so we took youin."
That was reassuring. Jadiver tried to smile as he lifted a curiouslybandaged arm. "Thanks for this."
"I'll take only half the credit. That was a combo job."
He was going to have difficulty if she insisted on using technicalslang. "What's a combo job?"
"Just what it sounds like. A combination robot-human surgeon. Allhospitals use them. The robot is more precise and delicate, but it lacksthe final margin of judgment that's supplied by the human. Two of uswork together in critical cases."
He still couldn't remember what had happened, but it would come back intime. "I was critical?"
Her mouth was firm and her cheekbones a trifle too broad. Just the same,the total effect was pleasing, would have been more so wit