"I did as good work as anyone else in my class," Dal said hotly. "I did
my part as well as anyone could, I didn't let up once all the way
through. Bitter! Wouldn't you feel bitter?"
The Black Doctor nodded slowly. "Yes, I imagine I would," he said,
sinking down into the chair behind the desk with a sigh. "As a matter of
fact, I do feel a little bitter about it, even though I was afraid that
it might come to this in the end. I can't blame you for your feelings."
He took a deep breath. "I wish I could promise you that everything would
be all right tomorrow, but I'm afraid I can't. The council has a right
to review your qualifications, and it holds the power to assign you to a
patrol ship on the spot, if it sees fit. Conceivably, a Black Doctor
might force the council's approval, if he were the only representative
of the Black service there. But I will not be the only Black Doctor
sitting on the council tomorrow."
"I know that," Dal said.
Doctor Arnquist looked up at Dal for a long moment. "Why do you want to
be a doctor in the first place, Dal? This isn't the calling of your
people. You must be the one Garvian out of millions with the patience
and peculiar mental make-up to permit you to master the scientific
disciplines involved in studying medicine. Either you are different from
the rest of your people--which I doubt--or else you are driven to force
yourself into a pattern foreign to your nature for very compelling
reasons.
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