The Forever War #7.3

We knew enough not to groan or anything, but there were some pretty disgusted looks, especially on the faces that had singed eyebrows and a pink rectangle of sunburn framing their eyes. „Mandella.“ „Sir?“ „You are far and away the worst-burned casualty. Was your image converter set on normal?“ Oh, shit. „No, sir. Log two.“ „I see. Who was your team leader for the exercises?“ „Acting Corporal Potter, sir.“ „Private Potter, did you order him to use image intensification?“ „Sir, I. . . I don‘t remember.“ „You don‘t Well, as a memory exercise you may join the dead people. Is that satisfactory?“ „Yes, sir.“ „Good. Dead people get one last meal tonight and go on no rations starting tomorrow. Are there any questions?“ He must have been kidding. „All right Dismissed.“ I selected the meal that looked as if it had the most calories and took my tray over to sit by Potter. „That was a quixotic damn thing to do. But thanks.“ „Nothing. I‘ve been wanting to lose a few pounds anyway.“ I couldn‘t see where she was carrying any extra. „I know a good exercise,“ I said. She smiled without looking up from her tray. „Have anybody for tonight?“ „Kind of thought I‘d ask Jeff.. . .“ „Better hurry, then. He‘s lusting after Macjima.“ Well, that was mostly true. Everybody did. „I don‘t know. Maybe we ought to save our strength. That third day . . „Come on.“ I scratched the back of her hand lightly with a fingernail. „We haven‘t sacked since Missouri. Maybe I‘ve learned something new.“ „Maybe you have.“ She tilted her head up at me in a sly way. „Okay.“ Actually, she was the one with the new trick. The French corkscrew, she called it. She wouldn‘t tell me who taught it to her though. I‘d like to shake his hand. Once I got my strength back.