Somehow, the plague incubation period had been shortened to
fit their life span; the disease was nothing if not adaptive.
Chris prepared a slide in dull silence. The familiar cell was there when
Doc looked through the microscope. He picked up one of the little
creatures and cut it open, removing one of the foetuses.
"Make a film of that," he suggested.
She worked rapidly, scraping out the almost microscopic brain,
dissolving out the fatty substance, and transferring the result to a
film. This time, even at full magnification, there was no sign of the
filaments that were always present in diseased flesh. The results were
the same for the other samples they made.
"Something about the very young animal or a secretion from the mother's
organs keeps the bug from working." Doc reached for a bracky weed and
accepted a light from Chris without thinking of it. "Every kid I've
heard about contracted the plague between the second and third year.
None are born with it, none get it earlier. I've suspected this, but now
here's confirmation."
Chris began preparing specimens, while Doc got busy with tubes of the
culture. They'd have to test various fluids from the tiny bodies, but
there were enough cultures prepared. Then, if the substance only
inhibited growth, there would be a long, slow test; if it killed the
bugs, they might know more quickly.
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