Free Prostho Plus by Piers Anthony Page A

would have given almost anything for the sight of a green tree or a human face. He wondered what his former assistant, Miss Galland, was doing now, but cut off that speculation. A competent girl like her would have found another position immediately; even if he managed to return to Earth tomorrow, she would no longer be available.
    Trach, at least, was fully absorbed in his business and didn't have to worry about homesickness. Every day he went forth to meet important personages and to arrange new liaisons, working diligently to solve whatever diplomatic problems Electrolus had hired him for. But Dillingham had no vital mission here. He had to wait, and hope that the dinosaur was successful, so that his own contract did not wind up in the tentacles of a radium mining foreman on Ra, or some even less enticing location. Lots of terrible places in the galaxy had standing offers for medical and dental specialists, because no one went there voluntarily...
    They had arrived. The native rolled into a gracious cave-like residence, and Dillingham accompanied it cautiously. He knew almost nothing about the custom of this culture, and could not guess how such featureless creatures had achieved space travel.
    The occupant of the domicile greeted him with what he presumed was warmth: "Contortions, O Toothman. Can you snog the dentifrice?"
    Dillingham looked askance at his transcoder. It was supposed to render the alien signal-wave into intelligible English. If it went awry now, he would be in serious trouble.
    "This, you understand, is the problem," his guide said. "Your instrument is not out of order."
    That was a relief. "This appears to be a—a psychological matter. I certainly can't—"
    "On the contrary, Doctor. It is a tooth matter. Our healers are baffled. The situation is getting out of hand. A number of our most prominent individuals, this one foremost among them, are baffled, yet nothing is done."
    "But I work on teeth, not speech problems!"
    "Of course. That is why we hope you can help us. Anyone who can cure a Gleep toothache—"
    Should he try to explain that dumping twenty tons of gold into the monster Gleep cavity in no way qualified him as a galactic psychiatrist? No doubt they would find the distinction plebian. Better a polite demurral.
    He addressed the patient: "Sir, I am not at all certain I can snog the dentifrice, but I return your contortions."
    The surface of the Electrolyte sparkled. "Joy and rapturations! You clank the concordance!"
    The guide rippled a lava-like furrow in Dillingham's direction and settled three inches. "You comprehend him?"
    "Well, not exactly—but I've had some experience recently with alien dialects. He was obviously wishing me well, and inquiring whether I could help him. My patients always say something like that, so I reply in kind."
    "I perceive your reputation was well-earned! Half of what he says is gibberish to us. It's frightful."
    Dillingham looked at the patient. "Doesn't he mind this clinical discussion in his presence?"
    "He can't understand us any more than we understand him. He's quite normal in most other respects, and healthy—but he seems to be speaking another language. If only we knew what it was, we could programme a transcoder, but—"
    Something jogged Dillingham's memory. "Can he speak to the other afflicted Electrolytes?"
    "No. They have even more trouble understanding each other. It's worse when they try to—"
    "I suspected as much. I once had a patient on Earth who had asphasia." He paused, wondering whether he should try to clarify that it had been the teeth he had worked on, not the asphasia. That's a kind of distortion of speech brought about by injury or disease. The patient thinks he's making sense, but the words are all confused. He has to learn the language all over again."
    That's it!" the guide agreed. "Truly, your cognizance is remarkable. Can you fix it quickly?"
    What a living a huxter could make on this trusting planet! "I'm afraid not. I know almost