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“How long have you had your symptoms?”

“Two months, ish.”

“Did you have rime pox, as a kid?”

“Didn’t everybody?”

“Is there any other medicine you’re taking right now, ginger aside?”

“No. Well, I guess aspirin sometimes, if I’ve got a headache or something.”

“I assume you’re on menstrual blockers?”

“Oh, yeah, obviously.”

“Do you drink or do drugs?”

“I drink, socially. And I smoke green, here and there.”

“Anything harder than that?”

“No. I mean—once, but, no.”

Signy moved the curtain back. The look she gave Cora was unflinching, but not unkind. “I’m not a cop, either,” she said. “I just don’t want to kill you.”

“Really,” Cora said, meeting Signy’s eyes. “No. That’s not my thing.”

Signy nodded once, and pulled the curtain shut again.

By the time Signy had finished whatever it was she’d been doing, Cora was hanging out in front of the water plants, sitting backward on a spare plastic chair, watching the leaves sway. She almost didn’t hear Signy come over, she was so hypnotized. She still wanted to touch the bubbles.

“Do they grow like this in the wild?” she asked, as Signy stood alongside her. “Do things grow in water, on Earth?”

Signy nodded. “These are engineered, obviously, like everything else, but yes, the Primer mentions wild aquatic plants.”

“That’s crazy,” Cora said. “I can’t imagine. I mean, just this—” She gestured at the little plants in their little cups behind the glass, and she laughed. “This is amazing, right here.” She turned to Signy. “I promise I’m not trying to butter you up, it’s just . . . this is one of the coolest places I’ve ever been. You must love coming in here every day.”

Signy looked . . . surprised? Touched? She didn’t do a lot with her face, but man, there was something going on in there.

“I don’t just print medicine,” Signy said.

Cora stopped watching the bubbles and paid rapt attention.

“I grow medicine. I alter plants to produce pharmaceutical compounds, I harvest what I’ve told them to make, and I combine the ingredients accordingly.” Signy sighed and stuck her hands in the pockets of her long skirt. “One of the key ingredients in the medication you need would—I think, at first glance—be easiest to produce by way of splicing tobacco, which is not a plant I have growing right now, nor is it covered by my license, so it will take time, and caution. And since I’ve never made tritheragen, it’s not just a matter of waiting for harvest and synthesis. I’ll need to run extra tests on the end results, for your own safety.”

“That’s okay,” Cora assured her. “I don’t mind waiting.”

“It’s not okay, because you need to stop taking ginger sooner rather than later.” Signy pulled a stubby screw-top bottle out of one of her pockets. Its contents rattled as she held it up. “This will stave off the damage you’re doing to your body until we can get you what you actually need, but it’s not a long-term fix. This is a wad of gauze we’re stuffing into a wound that needs stitches, do you understand?”

Cora’s pulse raced. “Yes, absolutely,” she said.

Signy did not offer Cora the bottle, whatever it was. “I don’t want to be the supplier for the entire fucking pilot corps,” she said. “I will make these meds for you, and only you. You don’t tell anyone about me unless you ask my permission first. And there’s a high chance that if you do ask, I’ll say no.”

“I promise I won’t tell,” Cora said. “I promise. You can trust me.”

A long, assessing moment passed. “I don’t work for free,” Signy said at last. “This isn’t charity.”

“I can pay anything you want,” Cora said, then regretted it, because no, she could not.