“Yes, as Fortine says, we cannot escape some infections. We must prevent a second viral infection. It can recur. Here. Now. As doubtless it does periodically on the Southern Continent. We know to our sorrow that it only takes one carrier. We can’t let that happen again, Tirone. We have neither the medicines nor the personnel to cope
with a second epidemic.”
“I know that as well as you do,” Tirone said, his voice rough with irritation. “So? Do those precious Records of yours say what the Ancients did?” He gestured at the thick Records on Capiam’s desk with a contempt based on fear.
“Mass vaccination!”
It took Tirone a moment to realize that Capiam had given him a candid answer.
“Mass vaccination? The whole continent!” Tirone made a lavish sweep of one arm, glaring at Capiam. “But I’ve been vaccinated.” His hand went to his left arm.
“That immunity lasts only about fourteen days with the sort of serum we can produce. So you see, our time is limited … and might even be running out in Igen and Kcroon unless we can vaccinate everyone and anyone who might harbor the virus. That’s the challenge. My Hall provides the serum and the personnel to vaccinate; yours keeps Hall, Hold, and Wcyr from panic!”
“Panic? Yes, you’re right about that!” Tirone jerked his thumb in the direction of Fort Hold where Lord Tolocamp still refused to leave his apartment. “You would have more to fear from the panic than the plague just now.”
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“Yes!” Capiam put a great deal into that quiet affirmative. Desdra had moved perceptibly closer to him. He wasn’t sure if her intention was supportive or defensive, but he appreciated her proximity. “And we have to proceed with speed and diligence. If there should be a carrier in Igen, Keroon, Telgar, or Ruatha …”
The vulnerable angry look in Tirone’s eyes reminded him of his own reaction when he had had to admit the inescapable conclusions drawn from the four references Fortine, and then Desdra, had reluctantly shown him.
“To prevent a second epidemic, we must vaccinate now, within the next few days.” Capiam turned briskly to the maps he had been preparing. “Portions of Lemos, Bitra, Crom, Nabol, upper Telgar, High Reaches, and Tiliek have not had contact with anyone since the cold season started. We can vaccinate them later, when the snow melts but before the spring rains, when those people begin to circulate more freely. So we have to concern ourselves with this portion of the continent.” Capiam brought his arm down the southern half. “There are certain advantages to the social structure on Pern, Tirone, particularly during a Pass. We can keep track of where everyone is. We also know approximately how many people survived the first wave of the flu and who has been vaccinated. So it comes down to the problem of distributing the vaccine at the appointed day. As dragonriders are vulnerable to the disease, I feel we can ask their cooperation in getting vaccine to the distribution points I’ve marked out across the continent.”
Tirone gave a cynical snort. “You won’t get any cooperation from M’tani at Telgar. L’bol at Igen is uselessWimmia’s running the
Weyr and it’s a mercy Fall is a consolidated effort. F’gal might help
Capiam shook his head impatiently. “I can get all the help I need from Moreta, S’ligar, and K’dren. But we must do it now, to halt any further incidence of the flu. It can be halted, killed, if it does not have new victims to propagate it.”
“Like Thread?”
‘That is an analogy, I suppose,” Capiam admitted wearily. He had spent so much time arguing lately, with Fortine, Desdra, the other Masters, and himself. The more he presented the case, the more clearly did he feel the necessity for the push. “It takes only one
234 Moreta: Dragon lady of Pern
Thread to ruin a field, or a continent. Only one carrier is needed to
spread the plague.” “Or one idiot master seaman trying to stake a premature claim on
the Southern Continent”
“What?” Tirone took from his tunic a water-stained sheaf, its parchment
pages roughly evened. “I was on my way to see you about this, Master Capiam. Your