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I didn’t have time to keep entertaining my thoughts as I heard multiple voices coming from outside. I closed the cabinet door and lifted my head to see soldiers returning to camp. They brought a few enemy troops back with them.
I moved away from the window and went outside. The guard eased his stance as his battle buddies approached. Two of them came to me, helping a third soldier walk. At first glance, all three of them appeared normal.
"What happened here?" I asked.
"Got hit while fighting a scout," the one in the middle answered. He tapped his forehead where a lump was forming. "It’s just a bump on the head."
"It’s the size of a dinner roll," his comrade on the left added.
I held open the infirmary door. "Let’s get him inside so I can check him for a concussion."
The two soldiers got their fellow fighter onto the examining table while I grabbed instruments to check his vitals. "What’s your name, soldier?"
"Gaje." He blinked when I shined a flashlight in his eyes.
"How old are you, Gaje?" I checked his blood pressure and oxygen next.
"Nineteen."
Still a teenager and here he was, fighting to win back his way of life. "Who’s the president of the United States?"
"Uh."
"I'm just kidding. You wouldn’t know that. But you can tell me how many fingers I'm holding up." I raised my left hand.
"Two."
"Good. And now?"
"Three and a thumb."
"Great job." I checked his bump on the head. "Tell me how you got this goose egg."
Gaje became animated as he recounted the story. "I came flying up on this big scout and he had a giant stun rifle. He aimed it at me, but I knocked it out of his hand. Then he got me with his fist."
"Ouch. That’s a big fist to leave this bump." I inspected it as gently as I could.
Gaje didn’t seem to notice. "That’s nothing. You should’ve seen what Varus did with his fist. He smashed it into a Quarek pod and made the whole thing catch fire and melt around itself." He demonstrated, sound effects included, by slamming his fist into his palm.
"Is that so? Does Varus still have his hand?"
Gaje shrugged. "As far as I know. He should be around somewhere."
"You don’t need to worry about your commander. What you need to do is get a cold compress on your forehead." I stepped over to the cooling station and found one in the freezer compartment. I wrapped it in a towel and handed it to him.
Gaje stuck it on the bump. "It’s kind of ironic that I would need ice after getting hit by a Racopian who can make ice."
"Life’s full of little ironies." I put my examining instruments away. "I don’t see any signs of a concussion, but it’s best to play it safe. No fistfights for you for a couple of weeks."
He snapped his fingers. "We need to win against Isath."
"You need to take care of yourself." I put on my most authoritative voice. "Your buddies need to keep you awake for a few hours until that bump goes down. If you get dizzy or feel sick or anything, you come right back here."
"Thank you." Gaje got up from the examining table. His buddies walked him out.
I saw three more soldiers during the next hour for wing lacerations and one for a broken finger. A couple more stopped into the infirmary while I examined him.
Maagda appeared as I was taping his pinky in a splint. "Your shift’s over. My turn."
