Star Surgeon, by Alan Nourse 
 
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Title: Star Surgeon 
Author: Alan Nourse 
Release Date: June 2, 2006 [EBook #18492] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR 
SURGEON *** 
 
Produced by Greg Weeks, Annika Feilbach and the Online Distributed 
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net 
 
STAR SURGEON 
by 
ALAN E. NOURSE
[Transcriber's note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence 
that the copyright on this publication was renewed.] 
DAVID McKAY COMPANY, INC. 
NEW YORK 
COPYRIGHT © 1959, 1960 BY ALAN E. NOURSE 
All rights reserved 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NO. 60-7199 
Manufactured in the United States of America 
VAN REES PRESS · NEW YORK 
 
Typography by Charles M. Todd 
Sixth Printing, April 1973 
 
Part of this book was published in Amazing Science Fiction Stories 
 
CONTENTS 
1 The Intruder 3 
2 Hospital Seattle 15 
3 The Inquisition 25 
4 
The Galactic Pill Peddlers 37 
5 Crisis on Morua VIII 54 
6 Tiger 
Makes a Promise 66 
7 Alarums and Excursions 78 
8 Plague! 98 
9 The Incredible People 107 
10 The Boomerang Clue 121 
11 
Dal Breaks a Promise 136 
12 The Showdown 151 
13 The Trial 
165 
14 Star Surgeon 175
STAR SURGEON 
CHAPTER 1 
THE INTRUDER 
The shuttle plane from the port of Philadelphia to Hospital Seattle had 
already gone when Dal Timgar arrived at the loading platform, even 
though he had taken great pains to be at least thirty minutes early for 
the boarding. 
"You'll just have to wait for the next one," the clerk at the dispatcher's 
desk told him unsympathetically. "There's nothing else you can do." 
"But I can't wait," Dal said. "I have to be in Hospital Seattle by 
morning." He pulled out the flight schedule and held it under the clerk's 
nose. "Look there! The shuttle wasn't supposed to leave for another 
forty-five minutes!" 
The clerk blinked at the schedule, and shrugged. "The seats were full, 
so it left," he said. "Graduation time, you know. Everybody has to be 
somewhere else, right away. The next shuttle goes in three hours." 
"But I had a reservation on this one," Dal insisted. 
"Don't be silly," the clerk said sharply. "Only graduates can get 
reservations this time of year--" He broke off to stare at Dal Timgar, a 
puzzled frown on his face. "Let me see that reservation." 
Dal fumbled in his pants pocket for the yellow reservation slip. He was 
wishing now that he'd kept his mouth shut. He was acutely conscious of 
the clerk's suspicious stare, and suddenly he felt extremely awkward. 
The Earth-cut trousers had never really fit Dal very well; his legs were 
too long and spindly, and his hips too narrow to hold the pants up 
properly. The tailor in the Philadelphia shop had tried three times to 
make a jacket fit across Dal's narrow shoulders, and finally had given 
up in despair. Now, as he handed the reservation slip across the counter, 
Dal saw the clerk staring at the fine gray fur that coated the back of his
hand and arm. "Here it is," he said angrily. "See for yourself." 
The clerk looked at the slip and handed it back indifferently. "It's a 
valid reservation, all right, but there won't be another shuttle to 
Hospital Seattle for three hours," he said, "unless you have a priority 
card, of course." 
"No, I'm afraid I don't," Dal said. It was a ridiculous suggestion, and 
the clerk knew it. Only physicians in the Black Service of Pathology 
and a few Four-star Surgeons had the power to commandeer public 
aircraft whenever they wished. "Can I get on the next shuttle?" 
"You can try," the clerk said, "but you'd better be ready when they start 
loading. You can wait up on the ramp if you want to." 
Dal turned and started across the main concourse of the great airport. 
He felt a stir of motion at his side, and looked down at the small pink 
fuzz-ball sitting in the crook of his arm. "Looks like we're out of luck, 
pal," he said gloomily. "If we don't get on the next plane, we'll miss the 
hearing altogether. Not that it's going to do us much good to be there 
anyway." 
The little pink fuzz-ball on his arm opened a pair of black shoe-button 
eyes and blinked up at him, and Dal absently stroked the tiny creature 
with a finger. The fuzz-ball quivered happily and clung closer to Dal's 
side as he started up the long ramp    
    
		
	
	
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