The man had a sharp, narrow jaw and a long nose. There were deep bags under his eyes and his hair was at the grayest end of pepper-gray. He wasn’t very large but he used his physicality well. He moved like he was used to controlling the room.

“Sasha, I’m Dr. Brandt. One of our medics was very impressed with your work earlier today on the injured girl.”

“Sir, all I did was try to stanch the bleeding. Anyone could have handled that. It didn’t require any special knowledge…”

“No,” he interrupted her, “it did not. The knowledge of how to stem bleeding is not rare or special. But the willingness to jump in during an emergency, and to get blood on one’s own hands, is rather rare. I understand you have some form of medical training?”

“Very little, sir. I took three semesters of pre-medical courses in high school. I was thinking about a medical career before I–”

“Yes, well, three semesters of any kind of training almost makes you a doctor here. We’re not exactly flooded with qualified medical experts.”

Dr. Brandt lacked Helen’s gift for interrupting without seeming rude. He was clearly a busy man. And the fact that he’d offered praise made it hard for Sasha to take offense.

“Miss Helen,” he snapped back at the older woman, “I’m putting this one on special duty. Would that be alright?”

“Of course, Dr. Brandt,” Helen said. She smiled at Sasha, and there was honest pride in that smile. More pride than she’d ever seen in her mother’s eyes. Sasha resisted the urge to tear up in response.

Dr. Brandt turned to Sasha next and asked, “What do you know about the People of the Road?”

She frowned. Post-humans were a popular topic of discussion in her high school. Sasha had seen Wasteland Warriors a couple years back and been as enthralled as everyone else. But her school curriculum didn’t talk much about them, and definitely downplayed their influence in the rest of the continent. Her father had called them, “A bunch of idiots dancing around the desert, doing drugs and robbing people.” She decided to use a variant of that for her answer.

“They’re drug-addled pagans, fornicating and spurning the Will of God.”

Dr. Brandt smiled. He had such a serious face and such stern features that Sasha was shocked by the honest kindness of that smile.

“I’d say that’s basically accurate,” he chuckled, “perhaps even a bit charitable. It turns out one of these groups sent some emissaries into Plano just before the city fell. They were on some trade mission. They wound up getting stuck in a pen with a few other prisoners. We didn’t even realize who we had until their people contacted us and demanded their release.”