Tony learned that the Elsa's infirmary had plenty of medical supply boxes. That was, the boxes were plentiful, not the supplies.

He sighed, and kept his right hand pressed tight to the cloth stemming the blood from the gash on his left arm. They really needed to make a profit on this run.

Disinfectants. What could he substitute for a disinfectant? And how had no one noticed when they ran out of nanopatches?

. . . wasn't alcohol . . . ?

Three minutes later he was in the galley, fighting to open the Captain's last bottle of Virginia Bright.