Feldman nodded at the symptoms, staring at the sick kids. He
shrugged, finally. "There's a cure for it, but I don't have the serum.
Neither do you, or you wouldn't have brought me here. I couldn't help if
I wanted to."
"That old book didn't list a cure," Jake told him. "But it said the kids
didn't have to be crippled. There was something about a Kenny treatment.
Doc, does the stuff really cripple for life?"
Feldman saw one of the boys flinch. He dropped his eyes, remembering the
Lobby's efficient spy service on Earth and wondering what it was like
here. But he knew the outcome.
"Damn you, Jake!"
Jake chuckled. "Thought you would. We sure appreciate it. Just tell us
what to do, Doc."
Feldman began writing down his requirements, trying to remember the
details of the treatment. Exercise, hot compresses, massage. It was
coming back to him. He'd have to do it himself, of course, to get the
feel of it. He couldn't explain it well enough. But he couldn't turn his
back on the kids, either.
"Maybe I can help," he said doubtfully as he moved toward a cot.
"No, Doc." Jake's voice wasn't amused any longer, and he held the
younger man back. "You're doing us a favor, and I'll be darned if I'll
let you stick your neck out too far. You can't treat 'em yourself. Mars
is tougher than Earth. You should live under Space Lobby _and_ Medical
Lobby here a while.
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