For an Earth year,
he was a doctor again, moving about from village to village as he was
needed and doing what he could.
The village had been isolated during the early colonization when Mars
made a feeble attempt to break free of Space Lobby. Their supplies had
been cut off and they had been forced to do for themselves. Now they
were largely self-sufficient. They grew native plants and extracted
hormones in crude little chemical plants. The hormones were traded to
the big chemical plants for a pittance to buy what had to come from
Earth. Other jury-rigged affairs synthesized much of their food. But
mostly they learned to get along on what Mars provided.
Doc Feldman learned from them. Money was no longer part of his life. He
ate with whatever family needed him and slipped into the life around
him.
He was learning Martian medicine and finding that his Earth courses were
mostly useless. No wonder the villagers distrusted Lobby doctors. Doc
had his own little laboratory where he had managed to start making
Mars-normal penicillin--a primitive antibiotic, but better than nothing.
Jake had come to remind him that it was his first anniversary, and now
they were smoking bracky together.
"Sheer luck, Jake," Doc repeated. "You Martians are tough. But some day
someone is going to die under my care, with the little equipment I have.
Then--"
Jake nodded slowly.
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