only cure they had found.

Jake took it as philosophically as he could, though it was a heavy blow
to his hopes. They spent half the night looking for her tractor, on the
chance that she might have gotten lost or broken down, but there was no
sign of it.

She was waiting in the laboratory when he returned at dawn. Her face was
dirty and her uniform was a mess. But she was smiling. She got up to
greet him, holding out two large bottles.

"Infant plasma--straight from Southport. And if you think I had it easy
lying my way in and out of the hospital, you're a fool, Dan Feldman. If
the man who took my place there hadn't been a native idiot, I never
would have gotten away with it."

The things he had suspected could still be right, he realized. She could
have reported everything to the Lobby. It was a better explanation than
her vague account of bullying her way in and out. But she'd had a rough
drive, and he wanted the plasma. Curiously, he was glad to have her back
with him. He reached out a hand for the bottles.

She put the bottle on the table and grabbed up a short-bladed knife.
"Not so fast," she cried. Her eyes were blazing now. "Dan Feldman, if
you touch those bottles until you've crawled across the floor on your
face and apologized for the way you treated me the last few days, I'll
cut your damned heart out."

He shook his head, chuckling at the picture she made. There were times
when he could almost see why he'd married her.

"All right, Chris," he gave in. "I'll be darned if I'll crawl, but
you've earned an apology. Okay?"

She sighed uncertainly. Then she nodded and began changing for work.

XIV

Immunity

They worked through the day in what seemed to be armed truce. There was
no coffee waiting for him when he awoke next, as he'd come to expect,
but he didn't comment. He went to where she was already working,
checking on the results of the plasma on the cultures.

The response had been slower than with the mouse blood, but now the bugs
seemed to be dead. The filaments were destroyed, and there were no signs
of the big cells. It seemed to be a cure, at least in the culture
bottles.

"We'll need volunteers," he decided. "There should be animals, but we
don't have any. At least this stuff isn't toxic. We need a natural
immune and someone infected. Two of each, so one can be treated and the
other used for a control. Makes four. Not enough to be sure, but it will
have to do."

"Two," Chris c