Wash dropped Simon and Book off at a landing pad just outside the settlement. The man named Torsten was already gathering those who were ready, willing and able to evacuate there, and so far things seemed to be running in an orderly fashion. There were small signs of panic now and then, but most of the time people were impressively calm and collected. Simon guessed that living in this kind of environment would have that effect on you.

As soon as Book had introduced him, Torsten called for his daughter and told her to show Simon the clinic, and Dicte took him to a building at the outskirts of town where the old and sick were all gathered. There was no doctor, there hadn't been since the Alliance left eight years ago, Dicte told him, only a nurse, who – as far as Simon could tell after he'd walked around the clinic and gotten a first impression of the place – had done a great job with what little supplies she had on hand.

Hilda, as she was called, was thrilled to see Simon, though. "I have been begging them to send a physician for years," she said as she showed him around. "But all they send is the occasional shipment of antibiotics, vitamins and band-aids, and even those don't come as often as they should. So believe me, a ship's medic is the best thing that's happened to this place in a long time."

"Actually I'm an academically trained trauma surgeon," Simon pointed out. He had no idea why, really, and he regretted it almost instantly. Like there was anything wrong with being a ship's medic…

"Really?" She sounded surprised. "And you work on a cargo ship?"

He avoided looking at her as he replied. "Uh, yes, I… uh, I wanted to see the 'verse."

There was suddenly a whole new admiration in her eyes. "You chose to help people out here on the frontier instead of good pay and a life in luxury back in the Core. That's amazing."

He could have died. Instead he just smiled weakly at her.

"Any