"Jamison asked.
"The fractures," the captain said, "seem to have knitted satisfactorily. There is no pain or impediment of movement that I can detect."
"He can walk, in other words?" Jamison asked.
"Before he can be determined to be physically fit for duty," the captain said, "he will require therapy. Do you concur, Doctor?"
"Jamison," the younger doctor said, "there is muscle atrophy--" "What kind of therapy?
"Jamison asked.
"Walking, actually," the captain said.
"Short walks, gradually extended. Manipulation of the foot and ankle to restore movement."
"That'll be all, Janos," Jamison said.
"Thank you."
"You said you would tell me," Janos protested.
"You're being considered for an operation," Jamison said.
"When and if it is decided you're going, you'll be told about it."
"When will that decision be made?"
"Tomorrow morning, probably," Jamison said.
"Do you think you can manage without your crutches?"
"I don't know," Janos said.
"Give it a try," Jamison said.
"If you can, leave the crutches here. If you go back to the bar, go easy on the booze. I don't want you falling down and breaking it again."
The lieutenant, shaking his head, chuckled.
The captain said, "Jamison, I might as well tell you, the moment Major Canidy returns, I'm going to protest this."
"Captain," Jamison said, "all I'm doing is obeying my orders. That's what you do when you put a uniform on, obey orders."
He turned and walked out of the room.
The captain called after him.
"Jamison, in my capacity as the senior medical officer present, I absolutely forbid this officer to participate in a parachute jump."
"Your position has been noted. Doctor," Jamison called, over his shoulder.
Janos got off the X-ray table and gingerly lowered his bare, sick, white foot to the floor.
"Any pain?" the captain asked.
"No," Janos said.
"Fuck him," the captain said, "You use the crutches, Janos. You start using that leg carefully. I'll deal with Jamison."