Ceroill stoked the fire up as much as he could, placed a cup of water and a towel on the nightstand, and made sure a basin was nearby for whatever needs might crop up. Then he hastened downstairs, re-donned his cloak, and made certain he did not forget his knife, nor a pencil and tiny notepad (he had made it based on some he had seen in shops in the Terran Zone). He made a quick check of locks and went back out into the night, making his way for the Terran Zone.
He followed the light, heading for the more brightly lit area used by Terrans. Ceroill went cautiously, for it was not unknown for ruffians to be about. This was why he had his knife and also his walking stick. He hoped he would be able to encounter a Terran Guardsman he had met before, but at so early in the morning, he thought it unlikely. Those just finishing up the late shift were bound to be tired and more wary of locals like himself -- so his approach would have to be careful.
When he finally got to the border area, he waited until he saw a patrolman on his rounds. Standing in the light of a streetlamp, he nodded to the young man as he approached, and with a small gesture of greeting (being sure not to move too suddenly or largely), he said "Excuse me, sir, could you direct me to a, um, 'Public Comm Station' I believe they are called? I need to contact someone, and need to find their address and comm number."
The young man glanced suspiciously at him, then shrugged and yawned. It had been a long-and-dull night and he was looking forward to a bit of breakfast before going to bed. And this man didn't appear to be dangerous. But, by God, he must be mad to be up and about at such an early hour. Pointing further down the road (to what looked to be a very small booth), he replied "Comm's over there, it'll cost you a quarter-credit to use it (or a few local coppers)". Then he frowned and added "But isn't it a little bit early in the morning to be waking folks, mestru? At best, you're likely to find 'em in the middle of breakfast. So I sure hope it's an emergency you've got. Otherwise, you're not likely to get a warm reception".
"Thank you young man. I'm afraid it is an emergency, or, as you say, I should not be out and about this time of morning. I believe I have the requisite fee. I do hope the comm has a directory I may peruse." Ceroill knew he was an odd sight, especially here and now, and saw that the fellow was tired.
Hopefully he would not need to trouble him further. He proceeded to the indicated booth, and gratefully found that it did indeed have a directory. Now to find Doctor Louis...something. Let's see now, first try under the topic: Physicians --Abrams, Michael...Field, Archibald...aha!: Couvillon, Louis- Obstetrician- this must be the one.
She had told true, he was the only Louis in the doctor's listing. Ceroill was uncertain just what an 'Obstetrician' was, but it was obviously some specialized form of physician. He would have to look it up later, or perhaps ask the man.
Rummaging in his money pouch, he found some coppers, and following the printed directions, inserted the needed amount into the slot, and entered the desired number combination on the touchpad. He prayed that Dr. Couvillon would be home and in good humour.
A comm signal rang loudly in Louis' empty quarters. After a few unsucessful tries, the main computer automatically interrupted to inform Ceroill in its own machine-accented Standard "For priority-1 emergency, press 1. For priority-2 emergency, press 2. Otherwise, press 3 and leave a message at the sound of the beep."
Oh, dear, Ceroill thought, priority one or priority two emergency? This nonplussed him momentarily, on top of dealing with an obviously artificial voice. Well, priority one would probably be for truly major or at least life threatening situations. He pressed the 2 button, just before the machine would have beeped at him.
The computer then redirected the call to Louis' personal comm unit. If he was anywhere on-base (or its its vicinity), the signal would reach him.
Ceroill stood in the crowded, harshly lit booth, listening to the ringing on the other end of the line. He was uncertain what Terran etiquette demanded in these cases. How long should he let it keep ringing before it became rude? What minimum ringing time should he allow to make certain it could be answered ? What was considered a "reasonable time"?
All he knew was that in this amount of time he could have answered his door at home, after coming down the stairs and lighting a lamp. Something must be wrong. Maybe the doctor was simply not home. He hoped the man would answer the ringing soon. He did not want to have to go into the Terran Zone and try to find the address listed for the man. Sighing, he tried to be more patient.