Can I get up?"
"When we get enough blood into you, and your arm is fully restored."
Commander O'Brine appeared in the door frame. "Can he talk?"
"Yes. He's fine, sir."
O'Brine glared down at Rip. "Can you give me a good reason why I
shouldn't have you treated for space madness and then toss you in the
space pot until we reach Earth?"
"Best reason in the galaxy," Rip said cheerfully. "But before we talk
about it, I want to know how my men are. One got cut, and another had his
bubble cracked. Also, one of the Connies got badly cut, another had some
broken bones, and a third one bled into high vack when Koa cracked his
bubble."
The doctor answered Rip's question. "Your men are all right. We put the
one with the cracked bubble into high compression for a while, just to
relieve his pain a little. The other one didn't bleed much. He's back in
the squad room right now. Two of the prisoners are patched up, but the
third one is in the other operating room. I don't know whether we can
save him or not. We're trying."
O'Brine nodded. "Thanks, Doctor. Now, Foster, start talking. You fired
on this ship, scored a hit, and broke the air seal. No casualties,
fortunately. But by forcing us to accelerate at optimum speed, you caused
so much breakage of ship's stores that we'll have to put into Marsport
for new stocks.
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