Read Generation Warriors for Free Online Page A

bearded man grinned as he advanced, his hands outstretched. She searched her memory and came up with nothing. Who was this? He went on. "We heard you were coming. Forty-three years, in this last coldsleep? And that makes how much altogether? We've got a lot of research we can do on you." His face fell slightly and he peered more closely at her, "You do remember me, don't you?"
    She was about to say no, when a flicker of memory gave her the face of an enthusiastic teenager touring a hospital with a class. Now where had that been? She couldn't quite say... but he had been the most persistently curious in his group, asking questions long after his companions (and even his instructors) were bored. He had been pried loose only by the fifth reminder that their transport was leaving... now. She had no idea what his name was.
    "You were younger," she said slowly, giving herself time to think. "I don't remember that beard."
    His hands touched it. "Oh... yes. It does make a difference, I suppose. And it's been over forty years for you, even if most of that wasn't real time. I mean waketime. I was just so glad to see your name come up on the boards. I suppose you never knew that it was that hospital tour that got me into medicine, and beyond that into the Oddballs—"
    "I'm glad," she said. What was his name? He had worn a big square nameplate that day; she could remember that it was green with black lettering, but not what the name was.
    "Jerik," he said now, relieving her of that anxiety. "Doctor Jerik now, but Jerik to you, of course. I'm an epidemiologist, currently stranded in Admin because my boss is on leave."
    He had the collar pin of an honor graduate and the second tiny chip of diamond which meant he was also an Adept, It was not something to speak of, but it meant he was not just out here blathering away for nothing. His pose of idle chatter and innocent enthusiasm was just that—a pose. "You'll be wondering," he said, "why you were dragged into the Oddballs when you deserve a good long rest and chance to catch up on your education."
    "Rather," said Lunzie. He must think the area was under surveillance, and it probably was. Only the Mountain would be certainly beyond anyone's ability to spy on.
    "There are some interesting things going on—and you, with your experience of cold sleep, may be just the person we need. Of course, you will have to recertify..."
    Lunzie grimaced. "I hate fast-tapes."
    He was all sympathy. "I know. I hate them, too—it's like eating three meals in five minutes; your brain feels stuffed. But it's the only way, and unless you have two or three years to spare..."
    "No. You're right. What will I need?"
    What she would need, after 43 years out of date, was far more than Mayerd on Sassinak's ship had been able to give her. And she'd refused Mayerd's offer of fast-tape equipment. New surgical procedures, using new equipment: that meant not only fast-tape time, but actual in-the-OR work on "slushes," the gruesomely realistic androids used for surgical practice. New drugs, with all the attendant information on dosages, side effects, contraindications, and drug interferences. New theories of cognition that related to the coldsleep experience.
    One of the neat things about her hop-skip-and-jump experiences, Lunzie realized partway through this retraining, was that it gave her an unusual overview of medical progress... and regress. She solved one diagnostic problem on the fourth day, pointing out that a mere 45 years ago, and two sectors away, that cluster of symptoms was called Galles Disease. It had been wiped out by a clever genetic patch, and had now reoccurred ("Probably random mutation," said the senior investigator with a sigh. "I should have thought of that") in an area where everyone had forgotten about it.
    Differences between sectors, and between cultures within a sector, meant that what she learned might not be new in one place—or available in twenty others.
    Access to the best medical