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popped fifteen, the rest of the magazine, in the same direction.
     
    I should have ducked down behind the rock to reload, but I wanted to see where the fifteen would land, so I kept my eyes on the bunker while I reached back to unclip another magazine—
     
    When the laser hit my image converter, there was a red glare so intense it seemed to go right through my eyes and bounce off the back of my skull. It must have been only a few milliseconds before the converter overloaded and went blind, but the bright green afterimage hurt my eyes for several seconds.
     
    Since I was officially “dead,” my radio automatically cut off, and I had to remain where I was until the mock battle was over. With no sensory input besides the feel of my own skin (and it ached where the image converter had shone on it) and the ringing in my ears, it seemed like an awfully long time. Finally, a helmet clanked against mine.
     
    “You okay, Mandella?” Potter’s voice.
     
    “Sorry, I died of boredom twenty minutes ago.”
     
    “Stand up and take my hand.” I did so and we shuffled back to the billet. It must have taken over an hour. She didn’t say anything more, all the way back—it’s a pretty awkward way to communicate—but after we’d cycled through the airlock and warmed up, she helped me undo my suit. I got ready for a mild tongue-lashing, but when the suit popped open, before I could even get my eyes adjusted to the light, she grabbed me around the neck and planted a wet kiss on my mouth.
     
    “Nice shooting, Mandella.”
     
    “Huh?”
     
    “Didn’t you see? Of course not.... The last salvo before you got hit— four direct hits. The bunker decided it was knocked out, and all we had to do was walk the rest of the way.”
     
    “Great.” I scratched my face under the eyes, and some dry skin flaked off. She giggled.
     
    “You should see yourself. You look like…”
     
    “All personnel, report to the assembly area.” That was the captain’s voice. Bad news, usually.
     
    She handed me a tunic and sandals. “Let’s go.” The assembly area-chop hall was just down the corridor. There was a row of roll-call buttons at the door; I pressed the one beside my name. Four of the names were covered with black tape. That was good, only four. We hadn’t lost anybody during today’s maneuvers.
     
    The captain was sitting on the raised dais, which at least meant we didn’t have to go through the tench-hut bullshit. The place filled up in less than a minute; a soft chime indicated the roll was complete.
     
    Captain Stott didn’t stand up. “You did fairly well today. Nobody killed, and I expected some to be. In that respect you exceeded my expectations but in every other respect you did a poor job.
     
    “I am glad you’re taking good care of yourselves, because each of you represents an investment of over a million dollars and one-fourth of a human life.
     
    “But in this simulated battle against a very stupid robot enemy, thirty-seven of you managed to walk into laser fire and be killed in a simulated way, and since dead people require no food, you will require no food, for the next three days. Each person who was a casualty in this battle will be allowed only two liters of water and a vitamin ration each day.”
     
    We knew enough not to groan or anything, but there were some pretty disgusted looks, especially on the faces that had singed eyebrows and a pink rectangle of sunburn framing their eyes.
     
    “Mandella.”
     
    “Sir?”
     
    “You are far and away the worst-burned casualty. Was your image converter set on normal?”
     
    Oh, shit. “No, sir. Log two.”
     
    “I see. Who was your team leader for the exercises?”
     
    “Acting Corporal Potter, sir.”
     
    “Private Potter, did you order him to use image intensification?”
     
    “Sir, I...I don’t remember.”
     
    “You don’t. Well, as a memory exercise you may join the dead people. Is that satisfactory?”
     
    “Yes,