Chiara had changed. He was no longer the stocky, cheerful man he had been on the Constellation , whose brown eyes had smiled at the world through thick glasses and who had laughed and joked as he assured his patients that all would soon be well with them. He was thin and his face was haggard with worry. He had, in his quiet way, been fully as valiant as any of those who had fought the prowlers. He had worked day and night to fight a form of death he could not see and against which he had no weapon.

“The boy is dying,” Chiara said. “He knows it and his mother knows it. I told them the medicine I gave him might help. It was a lie, to try to make it a little easier for both of them before the end comes. The medicine I gave him was a salt tablet⁠—that’s all I have.”

And then, with the first bitterness Prentiss had ever seen him display, Chiara said, “You call me ‘Doctor.’ Everyone does. I’m not⁠—I’m only a first-year intern. I do the best I know how to do but it isn’t enough⁠—it will never be enough.”

“What you have to learn here is something no Earth doctor knows or could teach you,” he said. “You have to have time to learn⁠—and you need equipment and drugs.”

“If I could have antibiotics and other drugs⁠ ⁠… I wanted to get a supply from the dispensary but the Gerns wouldn’t let me go.”

“Some of the Ragnarok plants might be of value if a person could find the right ones. I just came from a talk with Anders about that. He’ll provide you with anything possible in the way of equipment and supplies for research⁠—anything in the camp you need to try to save lives. He’ll be at your shelter tonight to see what you want. Do you want to try it?”

“Yes⁠—of course.” Chiara’s eyes lighted with new hope. “It might take a long time to find a cure⁠—maybe we never would⁠—but I’d like to have help so I could try. I’d like to be able, some day once again, to say to a scared kid, ‘Take this medicine and in the morning you’ll be better,’ and know I told the truth.”