Eli halted three steps inside the infirmary and stared. The small room was filled with eight or so people, standing or sitting on the beds. Each had a bandage decorating a head, arm, or leg. The only exception was TJ, who shot him an exasperated look. "Where are you hurt, Eli?"

"What? No, I'm not-" Eli started, then cut himself off to stare some more. "What's going on? Is there an epidemic? Is it contagious?" He gulped a breath and started backing out of the doorway. "I'm infected, aren't I? Oh, man..."

The room bubbled with laughter at that. Dr. Volker shook his bandaged head despairingly, then winced as the movement made the room spin. "There's no plague, Eli. We're just all really dumb."

"Hey man, speak for yourself," Sergeant Greer said grumpily from the other side of the room. The young man had a cut on one temple and did not look very pleased about it. "If someone had had the sense to SAY something..."

"Whoa whoa whoa," said Eli, holding up his hands to stop the impending argument. "Can someone just tell me why everybody's banged up? Was there a bar fight that I missed?"

"There'd have to be a bar first," someone muttered. "Amen," another voice seconded, causing a ripple of laughter around the room.

TJ rolled her eyes at her charges and explained. "The second steps from the top on the gateroom stairs are loose. Every single person who steps on one of them gets tripped up, fall down the stairs, and then..."

"Concussion," Volker finished for her, pointing at his head.

"Broken arm," Dr. Kennair put in mournfully, shifting the makeshift splint attached to her left arm.

"Sprained ankle," Dr. Park added. There were several more declarations of injury. TJ sighed tiredly.

"They've been coming in all morning and no one's fixed the problem yet." She looked pointedly at Eli. "Hint hint."

Eli nodded gravely. "Uh-huh. Luckily for all of you, I am not only Math Boy, but..." He looked for a tool to flourish, but finally had to settle for using the pencil behind his ear. "I am also handy with a screwdriver. I'll go fix it." A small round of applause went around as he stalked triumphantly out the door.

Franklin leaned over to Volker and whispered, "Five bucks says he comes in with a busted head later."

Sure enough, ten minutes later Eli wandered in, holding his hand to his head. He stumbled to a bed and sat down. TJ appeared by his side as if by magic, frowning at the state of his battered cranium. He smiled up at her woozily. "I fixed the steps."

"And fell down them, of course," she noted, shaking her head in despair. She checked for any bleeding (there was none) and flicked her penlight into his eyes. "You've got a nice bump and a concussion, but it's not serious."

Across the room, money changed hands.