He watched as they fed themselves. The elderly man and woman consumed it delicately, looking at each other. The man with the broad dark beard ate with enormous self-restraint. Helen fed the weakest oldest man, between spoonfuls for herself, and Kim Walpole ate slowly, brooding. Calhoun drew him aside. "During the night," he said, "I got another lot of serum ready. I'm leaving it with you, with an injector. You'll find other refugees. I gave you massive doses. You'd better be stingy. Try half-CC shots." "What about you?" demanded Kim. Calhoun shrugged. "You'd be surprised how much authority I have--when I can make it stick," he said dryly. "As a Med Ship man I've authority to take complete charge of any health emergency. You people have a hitherto unknown plague here. That's one emergency. The present inhabitants of the city haven't got it. That's another. So since I have authority and reason to exercise it if I can, I'm going to the city to take a little action." "You'll be killed," said Kim. "Possibly," admitted Calhoun. "But the number of chance happenings that could favor me is very much greater than the number of breaks that could favor the invaders. And there's the matter of colonists. Prospective colonists. You're being hunted so hard that they must be about due. They've probably been immunized against this plague, but technically I shouldn't let them land on a plague-stricken planet." Kim Walpole stared. "You mean you'll try to stop them?" "I shall try," said Calhoun, "to implement the authority vested in me by the Med Service for such cases as this. The rules about quarantine are rather strict." "You'll be killed," said Kim, again. Calhoun ignored the repeated prediction. "That hunter found you," he observed, "because he knew that you'd have to drink. So he found a brook and followed it up, looking for signs of humans drinking from it. He found footprints about the spring. I found his footprints there, too. That's the trick you'll use to find other fugitives. But pass on the word not to leave tracks hereafter. For other advice, I advise you to get all the weapons you can. Modern ones, of course. You've got the blaster from the man I killed." "I think," said Kim between his teeth, "that I'll get some more. If hunters from the city do track us to our drinking places, I'll know how to get more weapons!" "Yes," agreed Calhoun, and added, "Murgatroyd made the antibodies that cured you. As a general rule, you can expect antibody production in your own bodies once an infection begins to be licked. In case of extreme emergency, each of you can probably supply antibodies for a fair number of other plague-victims. You might try serum from blisters you produce on your skin. Quite often antibodies turn up there. I don't guarantee it, but sometimes it works." He paused. Kim Walpole said harshly: "But you! Isn't there anything we can do for you?"