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. Medical-Major Stein, accompanied by Medical-Captain Krishnamurti, reported to Brisby before lunch.
"Well?"
"No physical objection. Skipper. I'll let the Psych Officer speak for himself."
"All right. By the way, how old is he?"
"He doesn't know."
"Yes, yes," Brisby agreed impatiently, "but how old do you think he is?"
Dr. Stein shrugged. "What's his genetic picture? What environment? Any age-factor mutations? High or low gravity planet? Planetary metabolic index? He could be as young as ten standard years, as old as thirty, on physical appearance. I can assign a fictional adjusted age, on the assumption of no significant mutations and Terra-equivalent environment -- an unjustified assumption until they build babies with data plates -- an adjusted age of not less than fourteen standard years, not more than twenty-two."
"Would an adjusted age of eighteen fit?"
"That's what I said."
"Okay, make it just under that -- minority enlistment."
"There's a tattoo on him," Dr. Krishnamurti offered, "which might give a clue. A slave mark."
"The deuce you say!" Colonel Brisby reflected that his follow-up dispatch to "X" Corps was justified. "Dated?"
"Just a manumission -- a Sargonese date which fits his Story. The mark is a factor's mark. No date."
"Too bad. Well, now that he is clear with Medical, I'll send for him."
"Colonel."
"Eh? Yes, Kris?"
"I cannot recommend enlistment
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