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influenza epidemic, and the Black Death, too. But when has it happened lately? Granted the
settlement was a matter of a century and more ago-still that wasnÒt exactly pre-atomic
times, either. They included doctors. They had supplies of antibiotics and for spaceÒ sake,
they knew the techniques of antibody induction. TheyÒre simple enough. And there was the
medical relief expedition, too.Ô
Novee patted his round abdomen and said stubbornly, ÓThe symptoms were those of a
respiratory infection; dyspnea-Ô
ÓI know the list, but I tell you it wasnÒt a germ disease that got them. It couldnÒt be.Ô
ÓWhat was it, then?Ô
ÓThatÒs outside my professional competence. Talking from inside, I tell you it wasnÒt
infection. Even mutant infection. It couldnÒt be. It mathematically couldnÒt be.Ô He leaned
heavily on the adverb.
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There was a stir among his listeners as Mark Annuncio shoved his thin body forward into
the space immediately before Rodriguez.
For the first time, he spoke at one of these gatherings.
ÓMathematically?Ô he asked eagerly.
Sheffield followed after, his long body all elbows and knees as he made a path. He
murmured ÓSorryÔ half a dozen times.
Rodriguez, in an advanced stage of exasperation, thrust out his lower lip and said, ÓWhat
do you want?Ô
Mark flinched. Less eagerly, he said, ÓYou said you knew it wasnÒt infection
mathematically. I was wondering how-mathematicsÅÔ He ran down.
Rodriguez said, ÓI have stated my professional opinion.Ô He said it formally, stiltedly, then
turned away. No man questioned anotherÒs professional opinion unless he was of the
same specialty. Otherwise the implication, clearly enough, was that the specialistÒs
experience and knowledge was sufficiently dubious to be brought into question by an
outsider. Mark knew this, but then he was of the Mnemonic Service.
He tapped RodriguezÒs shoulder, while the others standing about listened in stunned
fascination, and said, ÓI know itÒs your professional opinion, but still IÒd like to have it
explained.Ô
He didnÒt mean to sound peremptory. He was just stating a fact.
Rodriguez whirled. ÓYouÒd like to have it explained? Who the eternal Universe are you to
ask me questions?Ô
Mark was startled at the otherÒs vehemence, but Sheffield had reached him now, and he
gained courage. With it, anger.
He disregarded SheffieldÒs quick whisper and said shrilly, ÓIÒm Mark Annuncio of
Mnemonic Service and IÒve asked you a question. I want your statement explained.Ô
ÓIt wonÒt be explained. Sheffield, take this young nut out of here and tuck him into bed, will
you? And keep him away from me after this. Damn young jackass.Ô The last was a clearly
heard aside.
Sheffield took MarkÒs wrist but it was wrenched out of his grasp. The young Mnemonic
screamed, ÓYou stupid non-compos. You-you moron. You forgettery on two feet.
Sieve-mind. Let me go, Dr. Sheffield-YouÒre no expert. You donÒt remember anything
youÒve learned, and you havenÒt learned much in the first place. YouÒre not a specialist;
none of you×Ô
ÓFor spaceÒ sake,Ô cried Cimon, Ótake the young idiot out of here, Sheffield.Ô
Sheffield, his long cheeks burning, stooped and lifted Mark bodily into the air. Holding him
close, he made his way out of the room.
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Tears squeezed out of MarkÒs eyes, and just outside the door, he managed to speak with
difficulty. ÓLet me down. I want to hear-I want to hear what they say.Ô
Sheffield said, ÓDonÒt go back in. Please, Mark.Ô
ÓI wonÒt. DonÒt worry. But×Ô
He didnÒt finish the but.
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Inside the observatory room, Cimon, looking haggard, said, ÓAll right. All right. LetÒs get
back to the point. Come on, now. Quiet! IÒm accepting RodriguezÒ viewpoint. ItÒs good
enough for me and I donÒt suppose thereÒs anyone else here who questions RodriguezÒ
professional opinion.Ô
(ÔBetter not,Ô muttered Rodriguez, his dark eyes hot with sustained fury.)
Cimon went on. ÓAnd since thereÒs nothing to fear as far as infection is concerned, IÒm
telling Captain Follenbee that the crew may take surface leave without special protection
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