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Updated: June 8, 2025
Get the medics back here, too." Clay and his men put on masks and moved off. I borrowed one from a man standing by and followed. The large exit puncture was in the forward cargo lock. The room was sealed off, limiting the air loss. "Clay," I said, "pass this up for the moment and get that entry puncture sealed. I'll put the extra crew in suits to handle this."
Then came the free fall test, from the top of a thousand foot tower. A parachute-arrangement broke your speed at the bottom of the track. As in the centrifuge, instruments incorporated into the fabric of a coverall suit with a hood, were recording your emotional and bodily reactions. The medics wanted to be sure that your panic level was high and cool.
The other's face was a mask of pure agony, but he was no quitter. He was going to make his own throw. It came, blurringly fast, too fast to avoid. The heavy frontier knife turned over half in the air and struck Joe along the side, glancing off, ineffectively. Sándor Rákóczi fell to the sand and the medics came on the run, both toward him and to Joe.
He pictured himself shooting dozens of men in green uniforms, and he thought of Mabe reading about it in the papers. He'd have to try to get into a combatant service. No, he couldn't stay in the medics. The train had started again.
"Has he turned Alexandria into a shambles yet?" "Not yet, but everyone's uneasy." "I can't blame them. That young fellow's undiluted poison. By the way, how does he look?" "About the same." "The medics must have done a good job," Kennon said. "The Boss-man shipped him to Beta for treatment," Blalok said. "He didn't trust the docs out here." "That figures.
He directed two other medics, administered first aid, and returned again and again to the crash site to carry his wounded friends to safety. Sergeant Trujillo, you and your fellow service men and women not only saved innocent lives; you set a nation free. You inspire us as a force for freedom, not for despotism; and, yes, for peace, not conquest. God bless you.
That's damned rough luck, Fuselli." "Cosne sure is a hell of a hole.... I guess you saw a lot of fighting. God! you must have been glad not to be in the goddam medics." "I don't know that I'm glad I saw fighting.... Oh, yes, I suppose I am." "You see, I had it a hell of a time before they found out.
The "medics" and the "laws," however, soon grew strong enough to take care of themselves and were in fact for many years largely in the majority.
"Sergeant! Who's in charge of store police, now?" Coccozello looked blank for an instant. "I guess I am," he said. "Lieutenant Dunbar's off on his vacation, in Mexico, and Captain Freizer's in the hospital; he was taken sick suddenly last evening." Probably poisoned, Prestonby thought, making a mental note to find out which hospital and get in touch with one of the Literate medics there.
"It's not luxurious," he told Rat. "But at least it's a room. It's a place to stay." The medics started coming around that evening, checking to see that none of the newly-arrived starmen had happened to bring back any strange disease that might cause trouble.
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