Free To Honor You Call Us by Harvey G. Phillips, H. Paul Honsinger Page B

In short, they bring attributes to the table that are not present when one has an all-male medical staff.”
    “Actually, Doctor, I was making no improper implication and those are the kinds of advantages I was thinking of.  You see, I first went to space in 2295, so I remember the all-gender Navy.  The first ship I served on, the San Jacinto, had a female XO, Weapons Officer, Chief Engineer, Chief of the Boat, and—before the Gynophage—just over forty percent of her compliment.  By the time I got aboard, the crew was still about a third female.”
    “But, post-Gynophage . . . .”
    “Post-Gynophage, it’s a different ball game.  It’s certainly a different Navy.  Since the Krag managed to kill nearly half of the female humans in the galaxy in less than a month with their damned bioweapon, the top brass and the politicos decided that our remaining females are too precious to risk being killed in combat or being exposed to any new version of the virus the Krag might come up with.  So, no women on warships, no women, absent compelling personnel requirements, in any forward posting.  And so, after twenty years, the result is that, except for some very senior top brass and older NCOs back in the Core Systems, for all intents and purposes we’ve got no women in the Navy, period.”
    “Given the current species-wide demographic crisis, is it not prudent that our healthy young women be back in the Core Systems getting married and having babies instead of out here killing and being killed?”
    “I suppose, when you look at it that way, from the point of view of the whole species, it’s a reasonable decision.”  Max shook his head.  “But, it’s horrible from the point of view of the women.  Look at what Rear Admiral Kathleen Phillips did with her scratch force at the Battle of Sirius B in the First Interstellar War.  She tossed out the standard formations that the book prescribed for her situation, the old classic Dual Convex Envelopment or the Layered Radial Convergence, and off the top of her head came up with the idea of squeezing the enemy between a Hammerschmidt Cone and a Zhou Matrix.  We call it the “Hammer and Anvil” and we use it to this day.  If there is another Kathleen Phillips out there whose highest and best occupation is leading warships into battle, maybe she doesn’t want be stuck on the ground making babies.  Maybe she doesn’t care if she runs the risk of getting the Gynophage because she wants to be out here fighting beside her brothers.  I mean, can you imagine going up to Admiral “Killer Kate” Phillips and telling her that she belonged at home, barefoot and pregnant?  She’d grind up your liver and cook it into her boudin.”
    “Boudin?”
    “Cajun fast food.  One of the ingredients is liver.  Absolutely delicious.  It’s made from—” Max’s voice trailed off.  “Actually, Doctor , I’m thinking that, as a physician, you’ll be a whole lot happier if I don’t tell you what’s in it, especially since I eat it every time I can get any.  In fact, I’m pretty sure that you’ll be better off if you forget I even said the word.”
    “Ignorance is bliss?”
    “Exactly.  Anyway, the Navy was more civilized, more humane, less prone to aberrant behavior and extremes of all kinds when there were women on board ship.  Even if they were only five or ten percent of a given crew, they were a stabilizing influence.  By the time I had been in space for four years, they were all gone from warships.  Damn shame.  Maybe, once we’ve won this war, we can bring them back.”
    “The Casualty Station will be a better place.”
    “So will CIC.  So, Doctor, if that’s all—“
    “Lieutenant Commander?”
    A look of irritation, quickly squelched, crossed Max’s face.  “Doctor, on board this vessel, I’m ‘Captain.’”
    “Oh, quite right.  So sorry.  I have only limited experience in dealing with combat officers who are actually conscious.  The ones I’m