Free Corpsman by Jonathan P. Brazee Page A

in her chest.
    Dr. X‘anto went into action, pulling his Trauma Team 1 into position while others scurried to be ready for the patient.  With only one WIA, neither Liege nor any of the other company corpsmen would be needed, but she didn’t want to leave.  Couldn’t leave.  She felt a compulsion to stay.
    When she’d worked on Seth, she’d almost been on auto-pilot.  She’d reacted, and when trying to recall things later, her memory had been curiously muddled.  With the civilians on Wyxy, she’d simply helped assess some of them and administer initial aid to the burned woman.  Even the gut-shot pirate on the Confederation ship hadn’t really affected her, and she’d simply ziplocked the man for someone else to treat.  So in some ways, this was going to be her first opportunity to see an actual medical team in action, doing what all their training should have led to.  She faded back to the rear bulkhead along with Nica and a few others, trying to stay out of the way but still able to observe.  Gnish saw them, nodded his approval, before he slipped out.
    It was almost ten minutes before the patient was carried in.
    “It’s First Sergeant D-Ski,” Nica whispered.
    Liege had been looking at the mangled remnants of the Marine’s right leg and had not looked to his face.  She sure did now.
    First Sergeant Dzieduszycki was the very popular India Company first sergeant.  Liege knew this would hit his Marines hard.
    “He’s had a Two,” Doc Psythe, one of the India company corpsmen, said as they carried him in, indicating the Series 2 recipe of nano-bots.  “And two Hemocaps.”
    Liege thought that a Series 1 would have been more appropriate given the first sergeant’s injuries, but she wasn’t about to second guess another corpsman.
    “Motherfuckers hit us with two mortars, and the first sergeant got it when he was getting everyone else to hit the deck,” Doc Psytle added as they put the first sergeant on the table.
    “We’ve got it now,” Dr. X‘anto said.  “You’re contaminated, so you need to step back.”
    It looked like Psytle was going to argue, but with a shake of his head, Chief Sou squashed that.  Pystle and the three Marines who’d brought in the first sergeant hesitated, then left the theater.
    The prep team quickly stripped the first sergeant, who was shifting back and forth in and out of consciousness, then sprayed him down.  Ellen Western-Roulade brought the irradiator down over the first sergeant, then stepped back as the doctor and his team stepped up.  Between the spray and the irradiator, the first sergeant and the bed were as sterile as possible.
    Liege stepped a little closer to be able to see.  Bright bits of white bone were visible emerging from the scarlet mass of tissue that had been his lower leg.  Her stomach churned, and she upchucked a tiny bit of vomit, the gastric acid burning her throat.  No one was looking at her, so she swallowed, forcing it back down.  She might have to deal with similar trauma in the field, and she had to master her emotions.
    Trauma Team 1 did a quick assessment.  Both visual and scanner indicated that other than a few minor wounds, the leg was the only major injury.  After receiving the report, Doctor X‘anto stepped up to examine the first sergeant.  It took him less than a minute to make up his mind.  What was left of the leg had to be taken off at the knee at a minimum, and while he could do that in the aid station, there was no need with the better equipped medical facilities on the Joshua.
    “How long before we can get him back up the ship?” the doctor asked Anthony.
    “Shuttle is inbound now.  ETA nine minutes.”
    “Then we just stabilize him and get him on up,” Doctor X‘anto said.
    He pulled out a Number 6 pressure patch and molded it around what was left of the first sergeant’s leg.  If the patch had problems with the uneven surface and mangled bits, Liege couldn’t see it.
    “Are they going to put him in