send a logistic computer to do a man’s job? Or something like that. . . and we were off again. The light blinked green and I chinned the switch automatically. The pressure was down to 1.3 before I realized that it meant we were alive, we had won the first skirmish. I was only partly right. 4 I was belting on my tunic when my ring tingled and I held it up to listen. It was Rogers. “Mandella, go check squad bay 3. Something went wrong; Dalton had to depressurize it from Control.” Bay 3-that was Marygay’s squad! I rushed down the corridor in bare feet and got there just as they opened the door from inside the pressure chamber and began straggling out. The first out was Bergman. I grabbed his ann. “What the hell is going on, Bergman?” “Huh?” He peered at me, still dazed, as everyone is when they come out of the chamber. “Oh, s’you. Mandella. I dunno. Whad’ya mean?” I squinted in through the door, still holding on to him. “You were late, man, you depressurized late. What happened?” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Late? Whad’ late. Uh, how late?” 1 looked at my watch for the first time. “Not too-” Jesus Christ. “Uh, we zipped in at 0520, didn’t we?” “Yeah, I think that’s it.” Still no Marygay among the dim figures picking their way through the ranked couches and jumbled tubing. “Urn, you were only a couple of minutes late. . . but we were only supposed to be under for four hours, maybe less. It’s 1050.” “Um.” He shook his head again. I let go of him and stood back to let Stiller and Demy through the door. “Everybody’s late, then,” Bergman said. “So we aren’t in any trouble.” “Uh-” Non sequiturs. “Right, right-Hey, Stiller! You seen-” From inside: “Medic! MEDIC!” THE FOREVER WAR 91 Somebody who wasn’t Marygay was coining out. I pushed her roughly out of my way and dove through the door, landed on somebody else and clambered over to where Struve, Marygay’s assistant, was standing over a pod and talking very loud and fast into his ring. “-and blood God yes we need-” It was Marygay still lying in her suit she was “-got the word from Dalton-” covered every square inch of her with a uniform bright sheen of blood “-when she didn’t come out-” it started as an angry welt up by her collarbone and was just a welt as it traveled between her breasts until it passed the sternum’s support “-I came over and popped the-” and opened up into a cut that got deeper as it ran down over her belly and where it stopped “-yeah, she’s still-” a few centimeters above the pubis a membraned loop of gut was protruding… “-OK, left hip. Mandella-” She was still alive, her heart palpitating, but her blood-streaked head lolled limply, eyes rolled back to white slits, bubbles of red froth appearing and popping at the corner of her mouth each time she exhaled shallowly. “-tattooed on her left hip. Mandella! Snap out of it! Reach under her and find out what her blood-” “TYPE 0 RH NEGATIVE GOD damn. . . it. Sony- Oh negative.” Hadn’t I seen that tattoo ten thousand times? Struve passed this information on and I suddenly remembered the first-aid kit on my belt, snapped it off and fumbled through it. Stop the bleeding-protect the wound-treat for shock, that’s what the book said. Forgot one, forgot one. . . clear air passages. She was breathing, if that’s what they meant. How do you stop the bleeding or protect the wound with one measly pressure bandage when the wound is nearly a meter long? Treat for shock, that I could do. I fished out the green ampoule, laid it against her arm and pushed the button. 92 Joe Haldeman Then I laid the sterile side of the bandage gently on top of the exposed intestine and passed the elastic strip under the small of her back, adjusted it for nearly zero tension and fastened it. “Anything else you can do?” Struve asked. I stood back and felt helpless. “I don’t know. Can you think of anything?” “I’m no more of a medic than you are.” Looking up at the door, he kneaded a fist, biceps straining. “Where the hell are they? You have morph-plex in that kit?” “Yeah, but somebody told me not to use it for internal-” “William?” Her eyes were open and she was trying to lift her head. I rushed over and held her. “It’ll be all right, Marygay. The medic’s coming.” “What. . . all right? I’m thirsty. Water.” “No, honey, you can’t have any water. Not for a while, anyhow.” Not if she was headed for surgery. “Why is all the blood?” she said in a small voice. Her head rolled back. “Been a bad girl.” “It must have been the suit,” I said rapidly. “Remember earlier, the creases?” She shook her head. “Suit?” She turned suddenly paler and retched weakly. “Water. . . William, please.” Authoritative voice behind me: “Get a sponge or a cloth soaked in water.” I looked around and saw Doe Wilson with two stretcher bearers. “First half-liter femoral,” he said to no one in particular as he carefully peeked under the pressure bandage. “Follow that relief tube down a couple of meters and pinch it off. Find out if she’s passed any blood.” One of the medics ran a ten-centimeter needle into Mary-gay’s thigh and started giving her whole blood from a plastic bag. “Sorry I’m late,” Doe Wilson said tiredly. “Business is booming. What’d you say about the suit?” “She had two minor injuries before. Suit doesn’t fit quite right, creases up under pressure.” He nodded absently, checking her blood pressure. “You, anybody, give-” Somebody handed him a paper towel THE FOREVER WAR 93 dripping water. “Uh, give her any medication?” “One ampoule of No-shock.” He wadded the paper towel up loosely and put it in Marygay’s hand. “What’s her name?” I told him. “Marygay, we can’t give you a drink of water but you can suck on this. Now I’m going to shine a bright light in your eye.” While he was looking through her pupil with a metal tube, he said, “Temperature?” and one of the medics read a number from a digital readout box and withdrew a probe. “Passed blood?” “Yes. Some.” He put his hand lightly on the pressure bandage. “Mary-gay, can you roll over a little on your right side?” “Yes,” she said slowly, and put her elbow down for leverage. “No,” she said and started crying. “Now, now,” he said absently and pushed up on her hip just enough to be able to see her back. “Only the one wound,” he muttered. “Hell of a lot of blood.” He pressed the side of his ring twice and shook it by his ear. “Anybody up in the shop?” “Harrison, unless he’s on a call.” A woman walked up, and at first I didn’t recognize her, pale and disheveled, bloodstained tunic. It was Estelle Harmony. Doe Wilson looked up. “Any new customers, Doctor Harmony?” “No,” she said dully. “The maintenance man was a double traumatic amputation. Only lived a few minutes. We’re keeping him running for transplants.” “All those others?” “Explosive decompression.” She sniffed. “Anything I can do here?” “Yeah., just a minute.” He tried his ring again. “God damn it. You don’t know where Harrison is?” “No.. . well, maybe, he might be in Surgery B if there was trouble with the cadaver maintenance. Think I set it up all right, though.” “Yeah, well, hell you know how.. “Mark!” said the medic with the blood bag. “One more hilf-liter femoral,” Doe Wilson said. “Es- Joe Haldeman 94 telle, you mind taking over for one of the medics here, prepare this gal for surgery?” “No, keep me busy.” “Good-Hopkins, go up to the shop and bring down a roller and a liter, uh, two liters isotonic fluorocarb with the primary spectrum. If they’re Merck they’ll say ‘abdominal spectrum.'” He found a part of his sleeve with no blood on it and wiped his forehead. “If you find Harrison, send him over to surgery A and have him set up the anesthetic sequence for abdominal.” “And bring her up to A?” “Right. If you can’t find Harrison, get somebody-” he stabbed a finger in my direction, “-this guy, to roll the patient up to A; you run ahead and start the sequence.” He picked up his bag and looked through it. “We could start the sequence here,” he muttered. “But hell, not with paramethadone-Marygay? How do you feel?” She was still crying. “I’m. . . hurt.” “I know,” he said gently. He thought for a second and said to Estelle, “No way to tell really how much blood she lost. She may have been passing it under pressure. Also there’s some pooling in the abdominal cavity. Since she’s still alive I don’t think she could’ve bled under pressure for very long. Hope no brain damage yet.” He touched the digital readout attached to Marygay’s arm. “Monitor the blood pressure, and if you think it’s indicated, give her five cc’s vasoconstrictor. I’ve gotta go scrub down.” He closed his bag. “You have any vasoconstrictor besides the pneumatic ampoule?” Estelle checked her own bag. “No, just the emergency pneumatic.. . uh. . . yes, I’ve got controlled dosage on the ‘dilator, though.” “OK, if you have to use the ‘constrictor and her pressure goes up too fast-” “I’ll give her vasodilator two cc’s at a time.” “Check. Hell of a way to run things, but. . . well. If you’re not too tired, I’d like you to stand by me upstairs.” “Sure.” Doe Wilson nodded and left. Estelle began sponging Marygay’s belly with isopropyl THE FOREVER WAR 95 alcohol. It smelled cold and clean. “Somebody gave her No-shock?” “Yes,” I said, “about ten minutes ago.” “Ah. That’s why the Doe was worried-no, you did the right thing. But No-shock’s got some vasoconstrictor. Five cc’s more might run up an overdose.” She continued silently scrubbing, her eyes coming up every few seconds to check the blood pressure monitor. “William?” It was the first time she’d shown any sign of knowing me. “This worn-, uh, Marygay, she’s your lover? Your regular lover?” “That’s right.” “She’s very pretty.” A remarkable observation, her body torn and caked with crusting blood, her face smeared where I had tried to wipe away the tears. I suppose a doctor or a woman or a lover can look beneath that and see beauty. “Yes, she is.” She had stopped crying and had her eyes squeezed shut, sucking the last bit of moisture from the paper wad. “Can she have some more water?” “OK, same as before. Not too much.” I went out to the locker alcove and into the head for a paper towel. Now that the fumes from the pressurizing fluid had cleared, I could smell the air. It smelled wrong. Light machine oil and burnt metal, like the smell of a metalworking shop. I wondered whether they had overloaded the airco. That had happened once before, after the first time we’d used the acceleration chambers. Marygay took the water without opening her eyes. “Do you plan to stay together when you get back to Earth?” “Probably,” I said. “If we get back to Earth. Still one more battle.” “There won’t be any more battles,” she said flatly. “You mean you haven’t heard?” “What?” “Don’t you know the ship was hit?” “Hit!” Then how could any of us be alive? “That’s right.” She went back to her scrubbing. “Four squad bays. Also the armor bay. There isn’t a fighting suit 96 Joe Haldeman left on the ship.. . and we can’t fight in our underwear.” “What-squad bays, what happened to the people?” “No survivors.” Thirty people. “Who was it?” “All of the third platoon. First squad of the second platoon.” Al-Sadat, Busia, Maxwell, Negulesco. “My God.” “Thirty deaders, and they don’t have the slightest notion of what caused it. Don’t know but that it may happen again any minute.” “It wasn’t a drone?” “No, we got all of their drones. Got the enemy vessel, too. Nothing showed up on any of the sensors, just blam! and a third of We ship was torn to hell. We were lucky it wasn’t the drive or the life support system.” I was hardly hearing her. Penworth, LaBatt, Smithers. Christine and Frida. All dead. I was numb. She took a blade-type razor and a tube of gel out of her bag. “Be a gentleman and look the other way,” she said. “Oh, here.” She soaked a square of gauze in alcohol and handed it to me. “Be useful. Do her face.” I started and, without opening her eyes, Maiygay said, “That feels good. What are you doing?” “Being a gentleman. And useful, too-” “All personnel, attention, all personnel.” There wasn’t a squawk-box in the pressure chamber, but I could hear it clearly through the door to the locker alcove. “All personnel echelon 6 and above, unless directly involved in medical or maintenance emergencies, report immediately to the assembly area.” “I’ve got to go, Marygay.” She didn’t say anything. I didn’t know whether she bad heard the announcement. “Estelle,” I addressed her directly, gentleman be damned. “Will you-” “Yes. I’ll let you know as soon as we can tell.” ”Well.” “It’s going to be all right.” But her expression was grim THE FOREVER WAR 97