Swamped

You try to lie down, but you can't help it. You feel too restless.

You start getting up, but Robert rushes over.

"Hold on, hold on. Your forehead's getting red. You really should lie down."

"I can't stay still, though," you mutter.

"That's the heat playing tricks on your head. Simone, er, I hate to be a bother, but could you fetch me..."

She chuckles and hands him a washcloth, which he promptly puts on your forehead. You feel a little better.

"Figured you'd ask for one."

"Thank you, Simone. Er, how are the other patients faring?"

"Rider's still resting, Long went to have a look at him. Pubert's condition is stable, long as they don't try to run off anywhere. Starling's symptoms are about where they were last time, but we still don't have all the medicine we need for a proper treatment."

"Can't believe I have to treat swamp sickness in the desert," Robert mutters. "Maybe I should order medicine for frostbite, just in case."

"You were going to talk with Max about possible substitutes for the swamp plants."

"Right, yes. Suppose I should get on that."

He wanders off.

Simone turns to you.

"Sorry about that. He's stretched thin today. We do have another medic, but she's with the expedition team right now. Is there anything you need?"

"I need to get up," you groan. Your legs are just refusing to stay put.

"Don't think that's a good idea. If anything, you look like you're getting warmer, even with the washcloth."

Wonderful.

"But if I can get you something, just let me know, okay?"