Peter Caudell was just settling into his office to review some new designs when there was a tap on the door frame. He looked up to find one of the guys from Medical standing there.
“Just wanted to let you know, that guy down at Schirrasburg has tested clean. Apparently he just picked up an ordinary stomach bug.”
“That’s good to know. So when do they reopen their spaceport? I’ve heard they’re having some supply problems down there.”
“They were ready to open it back up tomorrow, but Johnson wants them to wait three days and test him again. Apparently that test has a higher false-negative rate than the big brains like.”
Peter didn’t like the news — he had some friends stuck over there, and they’d been talking about basic stuff running short. Bad enough that there’d been a fight over a roll of toilet paper that left both guys in the brig for the night, and rumint said certain women would put themselves out for a vacuum-sealed packet of coffee.
However, he could also understand the need for caution. Even ordinary diseases like the common cold would sweep through an entire settlement every time it showed up. He remembered more than one incident from his first stay up here, back when he had new-minted gold wings and the Roosa Barracks was just “the moonbase.”
“Let them know that we’ll be ready to resume shipments as soon as we’ve got the all-clear.”