Regarding Patient 724 by Ron Goulart

Author:Ron Goulart [Goulart, Ron]
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Sci-Fi Short
Published: 2010-03-07T18:11:52.765000+00:00

Surgeon General Sheldonmayer was speaking to his boots. “Uh . . . far be it from me to violate the mollycoddling conventions of the prickchinking Barnum Accords, Patient 724 . . . uh . . . can I call you Lloyd?”

McMaxon rolled himself a few feet back from the view. The noon glare, bouncing off the jungle park, made his plump pale face glow orange and yellow-green. “Sure, General.” He and the wrinkled little military medical man were alone in his Ward X room.

“Uh . . . Lloyd, it would be a nice gesture if you’d tell us all you know about the rumpsplitter organization you’re affiliated with . . . uh . . . names of all the membership, addresses, pixphone numbers

. . . any fiendish plots they’re cooking up.”

Shaking his head, McMaxon said, “I have a certain loyalty to the Uptown Commandos, General, even though I’m going along with this experiment.”

“Uh . . . I admire your pig-headed dedication to your cause, even though the cause is full of beans,”

said Sheldonmayer. “However . . . uh . . . I was hoping you’d change your mind when I made it . . . uh . .

. crystal clear to you exactly what you can expect from those guerrilla comrades of yours. Uh . . . as an example of how they treat their people . . . uh . . . look what they did to . . . uh . . . this Elena somebody or other.” The wrinkled man held four small photos toward McMaxon.

“What?” He rolled across to take the little color pictures.

“Uh . . . these aren’t the best photos I’ve ever seen. The Territorial Police are trying out some reconditioned photojournalism robots and . . . uh . . . the tugmutton things jiggle too much . . .”

McMaxon looked at the top picture, then tried to stand up on his broken foot. “Christ!” he said, stumbling and falling to his knees.

“I thought you’d given up slapping patients, Sheldonmayer,” remarked Dr. Trollope as he came into the room.

“Uh . . . don’t be a plugtail, Doc.” With McMaxon on the floor the surgeon general found he was looking directly into his eyes. He moved away.

The green-brown lizard physician strode quickly over to help McMaxon back into his wheelchair.

“You mustn’t be overanxious, Lloyd. Plenty of time to learn to walk again. Ah, what are these?” He took the photos as McMaxon, paler than ever, went slumping back into the bright metal frame. “I’d say a severe case of drowning. Notice the bloated condition of the body . . .”

“Yang!” McMaxon made his chair roll close to Sheldonmayer. “When did they find her?”

“Uh . . . yesterday afternoon.”

“Where?”

“You . . . uh . . . should have studied the entire set of pics. There’s one in there which, despite its fuzziness, gives you . . . uh . . . a good idea of the location.”

“Yes, here we go.” Dr. Trollope had shuffled through the pictures of the dead Elena.

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