Medical Center.
Orthopedic ward.
The young lieutenant proudly gave Kelly a history lesson, wearing an expression that said, I've studied my country's history—at least its war history—and I'm pretty good at math too. I've calculated how long this job can last.
"I believe you."
Adam smiled as well. "War will never end, but that's different from being able to stay on the battlefield after losing a limb. What kind of work do amputee soldiers like you usually do?"
"...Logistics."
The young lieutenant's expression darkened.
A prosthetic was still just a prosthetic.
Unless exoskeleton technology made a massive leap forward, or Iron Man showed up, amputee soldiers simply could not return to the front lines.
If not logistics, then suicide squads, or "volunteers" for dangerous experiments.
That was not what he wanted.
And on the battlefield, unless one was a frontline soldier or held a technical position like fighter pilot, one was far too replaceable. At the slightest setback, one could be discharged.
He might not get to enjoy the "dividends" of an endless war.
"Looks like you understand everything."
Adam nodded and left.
Emergency room.
"Doctor, please help him."
A young woman holding a baby looked at the man lying on a gurney, drenched in cold sweat from the pain, and begged Adam through tears.
Adam quickly examined him. The man's right foot had been amputated and fitted with a prosthetic. It was now blackened, clearly infected. He first had the nurse give him something for the pain.
"Dr. Duncan."
At that moment, the young lieutenant came looking for him relentlessly, still wanting Adam to amputate his leg. But when he saw the man on the bed, he froze. "Jude!"
"You know each other?"
Adam asked as he examined the infected wound.
"We served together."
The young lieutenant hurried to