The Lost

Chapter Thirty: Interference

The door signal to his quarters jolted John awake. He had a moment of disorientation, the gray light from the windows making it hard to remember what time it was. By the time he decided it was early evening, he was already up and at the door, trying not to resent being woken up at a time when he shouldn't actually have been asleep. Torren was the only one in Atlantis anyone would expect to be in bed at seven.

Here is the thing, Ronon said without preliminaries, leaning in the door as it opened. Zelenka's a bad shot because he can't see well enough. He won't go see Jennifer about it because he thinks if he fails the eye test, Woolsey will send him home, Ronon said.

That's a problem, John said, shaking his head to try to clear it. He always hated getting the scientists shot at, and it helped if they were at least armed and able to shoot back.

I thought maybe if you talked to her.

Yeah, maybe, John said. You know Keller, though, she plays things by the book. If we still had Carson…

We do still have Carson.

It was tempting to take this to Carson, but John was pretty sure that Carson couldn't sneak this by under Keller's nose in her own infirmary, especially when it would mean borrowing whatever equipment he needed for an eye exam. I'll work something out.

Ronon looked a little skeptical. So you're going to talk to her.

I'm going to work something out, John said. Trust me.

He headed out to the pier where the George Hammond was docked instead of down to the infirmary. It wasn't a pleasant stroll in the evening with snow whipping across the pier, although apparently someone had been out long enough that afternoon to build a snowman that was now guarding the Hammond at icy attention.

He found Sam in the Hammond's galley, nursing a cup of coffee. She waved him to a seat and pushed the paperwork she's been reading aside. What can I do for you, Sheppard?

I was wondering if I could get someone on your medical staff to do an eye exam for Zelenka, he said. It's probably no big deal, but just in case there is something that might be a problem according to the letter of the rules.

Well, okay, Sam said. I think Dr. Keller could do that, though.

Well, then it's official, and if she doesn't put it in her paperwork, she could get in trouble. If it's just one of your people taking a look when they are off duty, though.

Yes, all right, Sam said. I can arrange that. You owe me, though.

Absolutely, John said, with his most charming smile. He figured that ought to take care of it. There might not be any problem after all, but better safe than sorry.

The morning briefing for the new military personnel on Ancient weapons technology was easy to do pretty much on auto-pilot, because it really boiled down to have some drones and some weird devices that we don't know what to do with, and that are equally likely to be actual weapons and to be things that we're just using in all the ways it says not to on the warning label. The fun part would be getting to actually play with the drones, which would be a later and much smaller training session.

John was thinking hopefully of coffee when his radio headset sounded.

Colonel Sheppard, Jennifer said. Could you stop by when you have a moment? There are something we need to talk about.

He considered getting the coffee first, I'll be right there, he said instead. It was never a good thing when a doctor said there was something you needed to talk about. It probably wasn't about him, unless he managed to contract a deadly disease in the last couple of weeks, but if one of his people had managed to wind up in the infirmary with something embarrassing and contagious, or, worse, something that suggested serious mental health issues, it was going to be his problem.

He was not really in the mood to deal with either contracted a social disease while the rest of us were trying to get some work done or probably crazy. Of course, Jennifer wouldn't put it that way. She talk about PTSD and the pressure everyone was under, and he nod and agree that of course whoever it was needed to go home. Or maybe send them over to Dr. Robinson, and let her find fancier words for couldn't put up enough of a good front.

John was beginning to think he should have fortified himself with coffee first, but it was too late now that he was almost at the infirmary doors. He squared his shoulders and walked in, looking around to see who was here and what they've done to themselves.

The infirmary was quiet except for a young Marine who was getting stitches on his cheek from one of the nurses. He relaxed a little; Jennifer had called him down here before to point out that the Marines inflicted an unnecessary number of injuries on one another in physical training, which John agreed was probably true but disagreed that he was in a position to do anything about. It wasn't like telling them to play nice was likely to have much effect.

Colonel Sheppard, Jennifer said, standing in the door of her office. He was alarmed by how grim she looked. Come into my office, please.

What's wrong? he asked, coming in.

She shut the door without answering, but made no move to sit down behind her desk, where her laptop still sat open. She had coffee, some part of his mind noticed enviously, although it looked like it had gotten cold.

I received a transfer of medical records from the Hammond this morning, she said. The records of Dr. Zelenka's eye exam. Does this ring any bells?

John considered I don't know what you're talking about and they weren't supposed to send you the records as possible answers, and struck out for some middle ground. How that go?

He's cleared for active duty. Is that your question?

He's been having trouble with firearms practice, John said. It was my advice that he should get his eyes checked.

It looks like that was good advice, Jennifer said. Now I want to ask you a really direct question, and I'll appreciate an honest answer. Was it Zelenka's idea to do an end run around me on this, or was it yours?”

“It was mine,” John said after a moment.

She shook her head. “Somehow I figured that.”

“We need him,” John said intently. “With Rodney missing, if we lose Zelenka, we’re totally screwed. You can see that, right?”

“Yes,” Jennifer said. “I can. His corrected vision is really borderline according to the regulations, and I’m going to keep on ignoring that, because we do need him.”

“Great,” John said. “If that’s all, I have a busy day.” He could see her expression tighten at the sarcasm in his tone, and knew it wasn’t helping matters, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

“Is that really how you want this?” She was keeping her voice low, but he suspected it was with an effort. “Do you think I haven’t noticed that there’s a little tension right now between Woolsey and Colonel Carter? How do you think Woolsey would like to hear that you’re going behind his back to get her to do you favors that he’s not supposed to know about?”

“I really hope that’s not supposed to be a threat,” John said.

All of a sudden he thought she looked more tired than angry. “It’s actually not,” she said. “I actually thought maybe we could talk about this like reasonable adults who are supposed to be on the same team. Was I wrong?”

He eyed her coffee cup to avoid seeing her face. “You weren’t wrong.”

“Why didn’t you come to me about this? It could have been handled discreetly.”

He glanced back at her. “I didn’t think you’d be willing to play it that way.”

“I’m not willing to keep people on active duty if in my professional opinion they’re a danger to themselves or others. That’s not every situation that breaks the rules.” She spread her hands. “Nobody is going to die because somebody has 20/30 vision rather than 20/20. I know on paper we have to draw a line somewhere, but I’m willing to use my judgment in what falls on which side of that line.”

“I wasn’t sure,” John said.

“You didn’t ask. There’s not a lot I can do to help people if they don’t trust me.”

“Now you sound like Dr. Robinson.”

“And that’s a big coincidence right there.”

“My people are going to be kind of reluctant to bring things to either of you that they don’t want to go down on their permanent records,” John said. “It’s not that they don’t trust you. It’s that they don’t trust ‘the doctor.’”

“That’s me,” Jennifer said. “I’m really not out to get anybody.”

“It’s not just you,” John said. “It’s whoever reads your files. It’s guys back home who have no idea what we’re going through out here and who are just looking for some reason — ” He stopped, hands clenching, abruptly out of words.

“I can run interference for you,” Jennifer said. “If somebody back on Earth wants to try to make trouble for me, I’m okay with that. The number of people who actually want this job is smaller than you’d think. But if I’m going to do that, you have to trust me to make the calls. And that means your people need to give me enough information to make them.”

He took a deep breath and let it out. “That’s fair.”

“I think so,” Jennifer said. “Let’s try this again. I’ve looked at the results of Zelenka’s eye exam. With an updated prescription for corrective lenses, I think he’s fine to be on active duty. I may have accidentally neglected to make a note of precisely what his corrected vision score was, but I’m considering it acceptable.”

“The IOA won’t like that much if they ever notice,” John said.

“Since when does the IOA like anything?” She shook her head. “You let me worry about that.”

“Okay,” John said. It was a relief to think that maybe he could. Jennifer seemed to be watching him, her expression rueful. “What?”

“Atlantis has been my first experience treating military patients,” she said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know when there are special concerns.”

“I don’t want people on active duty when they’re so burned out they’re going to get somebody hurt,” he said. “I also don’t want to end somebody’s career because they’ve had a rough week. Sometimes people just need a little time.”

“Or a little help,” Jennifer said. “Even big tough military guys, right?”

John smiled without humor. “We see all the most exciting parts.”

She nodded with what looked like real sympathy. “I bet. You know, if people are having problems, I really want to see them. Or I want Dr. Robinson to see them. Let us figure out what we can do, and then we’ll figure out what the best thing is to put in people’s files.”

He shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“Not exactly the most rousing vote of confidence I’ve ever heard,” she said dryly, “but right now I’ll take it.”

“I trust you to keep us all from getting killed,” John said. “I’d probably be dead about five or six times otherwise.”

“At least,” Jennifer said. “I don’t actually enjoy sewing you up, you know. It’s not my idea of a fun day at work.”

“I thought it kept you from getting bored.”

“If I get that bored, I’ll read a magazine,” she said. “Go on, go shoot things, or whatever you have on your busy schedule.” Her tone was dry rather than angry, though, and he smiled crookedly in return.

“Training exercises. I’ll try not to send you any new patients.”

“You do that,” she said. “I’m going to start charging extra for any injuries your guys inflict on each other.”

“Just put it on my tab,” John said, and went to find that coffee.