"Look, next time. We're trying to get this related to some of the
familiar diseases. It must have some relation--there are only so many
ways a man can be sick. We've got a doctor coming over, Adams. None
on the Moon, but we're shipping him through. He'll set down in about
nine hours. And there's some stuff to take on the supply missiles. May
not help, but we're trying a mixture of the antibiotics. Also some ACS
and anodynes for the itching and rash. Hope they work. Let us know any
reaction."

Bill cut off. He'd have to try. They were as much in the dark about
this as he was, but they had a better background for guessing and trial
and error. And if the bugs in him happened to like tachiomycetin, he
wouldn't be too much worse off. Damn it, _had_ there been blood?

He forced his mind off it, climbed into his clothes and then into the
spacesuit that hung from the grapples. It moved automatically into
position, the two halves sliding shut and sealing from outside. The big
gloves on his hands were too clumsy for such operations.

Then he went bounding across the Moon. Halfway to the supplies he felt
the itching come back, and he slithered and wriggled around, trying
to scratch his skin against his clothing. It didn't help much. He was
sweating harder, and his eyes were watering. He manipulated the little
visor-cleaning gadget, trying to poke his face forward to brush the
frustration tears from his eyes. He couldn't quite reach it.

There were three supply missiles, each holding about two hundred
pounds, Earth weight. He tied them together and slung them over his
back, heading toward his ship. Here they weighed only a hundred pounds,
and with his own weight and the suit added, the whole load came to
little more than his normal weight on Earth.

He tried shifting the supplies around on his back, getting them to
press against the spots of torment as he walked. It simply unbalanced
him, without really relieving the itching. Fortunately, though, his
eyes were clearing a little. He gritted his teeth and fought back
through the powdery pumice surface, kicking up clouds of dust that
settled slowly but completely--though the gravity was low, there was no
air to hold them up.

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