"What's the matter with you? We're immune."
Starbuck nodded morosely. "Yes. Immune. But he'll die anyway, so why don't we...."
"Why don't we take him back with us, that's what. Don't kid me, Harry Starbuck. You're acting sympathetic only because you think I'll like that. Well, I happen to feel sorry for this man. I think we'll feel better if we help him."
"Help him? He's as good as dead."
"Are you dead? You had the Plague. Am I?"
"No, but maybe one out of a hundred live. That isn't much of a chance for him."
"It's a chance, though. Here, carry him."
"What? Who, me? Now listen, Diane...."
Maybe a moon-struck Starbuck had his advantages. "Suit yourself, but don't expect me to speak to you again, ever."
Starbuck considered this, then mumbled something under his breath which Diane could not hear. "All right," he said finally. "But I'm telling you it's a waste of time."