Fantastic Voyage - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,11

what might be facing us is a choice between stalemate and total defeat, and there one of the alternatives is completely unbearable. Do you agree?"

"Of course."

"You see, then, that if there is even a small possibility that Benes' death will involve us in total defeat, then that death must be prevented at any price, at any cost, at any risk."

"I take it you mean that statement for my benefit, general, because you're going to ask me to do something. As it happens, I've risked my life to prevent eventualities considerably short of total defeat. I've never really enjoyed it, if you want a confession-but I've done it. However, what can I do in the operating room? When I needed a band-aid over my short-ribs the other day, Benes had to put it on, for me. And compared to other aspects of medical technique, I'm very good at band-aids."

Carter didn't react to that, either. "Gonder recommended you for this. On general principles, in the first place. He considers you a remarkably capable man. So do I."

"General, I don't need the flattery. I find it irritating."

"Darn it, man. I'm not flattering you. I'm explaining something. Gonder considers you capable in general, - but more than that, he considers your mission to remain incomplete. You were to get Benes to us safely, and that has not been done."

"He was safe when I was relieved by Gonder himself."

"Nevertheless, he is not safe now."

"Are you appealing to my professional pride, general?"

"If you like."

"All right. I'll hold the scalpels. I'll wipe the perspiration from the surgeon's forehead; I'll even wink at the nurses. I think that's the complete list of my competencies in an operating room."

"You won't be alone. You'll be part of a team."

"I somehow expect that," said Grant. "Someone else will have to aim the scalpels and push them. I - just hold them in a tray."

Carter manipulated a few switches with a sure touch. On one TV screen, a pair of dark-glassed figures came into instant view. They were bent intently over a laser beam, its red light narrowing to thread-like thinness. The light flashed out and they removed their glasses.

Carter said, "That's Peter Duval. Have you ever heard of him?"

"Sorry, but no."

"He's the top brain surgeon in the country."

"Who's the girl?"

"She assists him."

"Hah!"

"Don't be single-tracked. She's an extremely competent technician."

Grant wilted a bit. "I'm sure of it, sir."

"You say you saw Owens at the airport?"

"Very briefly, sir."

"He'll be with you, too. Also our chief of the Medical Section. He'll brief you."

Another quick manipulation and this time the TV screen came on with that low buzz that signified sound-attachment two-way.

An amiable bald head at close quarters dwarfed the intricate network of a circulatory system that filled the wall behind.

Carter said, "Max!"

Michaels looked up. His eyes narrowed. He looked rather washed out. "Yes, Al."

"Grant is ready for you. Hurry it on. There isn't much time."

"There certainly isn't. I'll come get him." For a moment, Michaels caught Grant's eye. He said, slowly, "I hope you are prepared, Mr. Grant, for the most unusual experience of your life. -Or of anyone's."
Chapter 4 : BRIEFING
In Michaels' office, Grant found himself looking at the map of the circulatory system open-mouthed.

Michaels said, "It's an unholy mess, but it's a map of the territory. Every mark on it is a road; every junction is a cross-road: That map is as intricate as a road-map of the United States. More so, for it's in three dimensions."

"Good Lord!"

"A hundred thousand miles of blood vessels. You see very little of it now; most of it is microscopic and won't be visible to you without considerable magnification, but put it all together in a single line and it would go four times around the Earth or, if you prefer, nearly half-way to the Moon. -Have you had any sleep, Grant?"

"About six hours. I napped on the plane, too. I'm in good shape."

"Good, you'll have a chance to eat and shave and tend to other such matters if necessary. I wish I had slept." He held up a hand as soon as he had said that. "Not that I'm in bad shape. I'm not complaining. Have you ever taken a morphogen?"

"Never heard of it. Is it some kind of drug?"

"Yes. Relatively new. It's not the sleep you need, you know. One doesn't rest in sleep to any greater extent than one would by stretching out comfortably with the eyes open. Less, maybe. It's the dreams we need. We've got to have dreaming time, otherwise cerebral