* * *
1997
Pentagon, Washington D.C.
"Hey, Carter. Tell me again how wormholes are made."
Sam sighed. John was her superior by two months, so not answering the question he'd asked every day since he got to Washington, D.C. wasn't an option. She said, "Imagine a worm on an apple, crawling across the surface trying to get to the other side. The worm could chew through to the other side, and it would be a shortcut. Just the way space-time is curved. Cut across. Get it, flyboy?"
"See, now, that's easier to understand than the string and ant thing you tried to explain yesterday," John said. He straddled a chair and peered at her with his half-cocked grin.
"It's a common analogy. I didn't come up with it. And that's because you're not a girl, Sheppard," she said.
He raised his eyebrows.
"Nevermind. Why do you ask me every day?"
"I'm under orders, Einstein."
"What?" Sam felt a chill go down the back of her spine.
"General Hammond wants to see if you're actually as smart as your degrees."
"Why?"
He shrugged, and said, "Need to know. I don't think I need to know."
"John, why are you in D.C., anyway?"
"To have dinner with you."
She scowled and turned back to her terminal.
"Aw, come on. I'm just back from Panama. They're shipping me to Iraq next, but only for a couple of months. Then it's off to Georgia. The other Georgia."
"Central Asia?"
He snapped his fingers. "Yeah."
"Which No Fly are you doing in Iraq?" Sam asked.
"South."
"I did North."
John put his chin on his hands. He said, "You're a fighter pilot?"
"God bless Jackie Parker."
John grinned. He said, "Which is more exciting, flying over vast, empty desert or figuring out the math on wormholes?"
"Both, actually," Sam said, glancing around her tiny, windowless office. "But I'd rather be in space."
"Wouldn't we all. Damn, I sure wish I had Need to Know status."
"Tell me about it. I've been working on this project two years. I think I deserve to know what it is."
"I will tell you something," John said. "As far as I can tell, this isn't the federalies. Strictly Air Force."
"What could the Air Force possibly want me to do that I haven't done already?" Sam asked.
"You're the nerd. Do the math."
* * *
Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates
"Says here you were in the Gulf War," the general who had introduced himself as Hammond said, looking at his notebook. He seemed bored, and Janet definitely was.
"Yes, sir," Janet replied. She wished they'd get on with it. She'd been away from Dhahran for two days already because the Air Force dragged her to the nearest ally for debriefing. Since then, she'd gotten zero answers, and this general didn't seem any more forthcoming than the last one. At least he was from Texas. She missed Texas. The heat there was almost as nice as the heat in Saudi Arabia.
"Why?" he asked.
"Why what, sir?"
"Why did you end up fighting the good fight in Kuwait?"
"They needed surgeons, sir. More than anywhere else, I suppose. I'd just gotten my commission and my M.D. and--"
"Women captains don't get much of a say on their posting," he said.
Janet bristled. She said, "Well, the Year of the Woman is over. I guess we had our fun."
Hammond smiled. He said, "Did you like it?"
"War? No sir. But I liked saving lives."
He flipped the page in his notebook and said, "And after that, you did a year at the CDC. Why'd you come back to the Middle East?"
"There was a malaria outbreak in India."
He scanned the paper and said, "Rajasthan."
"Yes, sir. And after that, this is just as far as I got on my way back home."
"And six months ago, there was an infection."
She dug her fingernails into her palms and said, "Yes, sir."
"A new disease."
"We think it was unearthed by some of the archeological digs. Something that the soldiers didn't have a tolerance to. The locals fared better."
"King Tut's curse is real?"
"Not exactly," she said.
"But you figured out the treatment within 24 hours, and saved the lives of 34 men."
"I suppose, sir."
"How?"
"Medical science is finite. The symptoms, the causes, the cures. It's like figuring out a puzzle. Any good doctor can treat the common cold without knowing which virus caused it. This is the same thing, on a larger scale."
"There is no cure for the common cold. The body just creates a defense for it."
Janet said, "A good understanding, sir."
He nodded, and then changed course, asking, "Captain, there's a lot of speculation that aliens influenced ancient Earth. Especially in the Middle East. Do you believe that, Captain?"
"Are you asking me if I believe in aliens, sir?"
He said, "Just the possibility of them."
"Sure."
"Maybe you cured an alien disease."
"Well, whatever it was, I cured it."
He nodded. "Yes, you did. And you were a surgeon, before you went into infectious diseases. So you sure aren't squeamish."
"Hardly, sir."
He leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees, and she could almost see herself in the shining baldness of his head. He asked, "You like it here? The heat, the dust, the men who haven't showered, living in a tent, seeing all those plagues?"
"It's better than living with my ex-husband was," Janet said, pursing her lips.
He laughed, and said, "If I told you that I'd make you an assistant head of medicine at a desolate, underground radar telemetry outpost in the Colorado desert, would you accept the promotion?"
"Sir?"
* * *
Andrews Air Force Base, Washington, D.C.
"I don't understand why I'm here, sir," Sam said to Hammond, who looked tan and weary, like he'd just completed a tour, although the two stars on his sleeves indicated otherwise.
"We need a theoretical physicist who can handle fieldwork."
"Radar telemetry is fieldwork?" Sam sat straighter in her chair. "Is it Hubble? Will I be in space?"
Hammond shook his head. He said, "Not exactly. But with your qualifications, I can promise you more hands-on work. I can't promise anything else until you get to Colorado."
"Anything to get away from my father," Sam said.
"I promise I won't tell him you said that. Samantha, we need an astronaut." Hammond stood and said, "The next flight is 0900. Be on it. And, Sam?" He hesitated.
"Yes, sir?"
"Bring your gun."
* * *
Stargate Command at Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado Springs, Colorado
The doctor was dead. Hammond had only made the call to his parents before he went to Janet. "You're it. Head of Medicine. Congratulations."
"Sir, aliens, other planets, death... So much death ever since we cracked the Stargate. And Mr. Teal'c. It's just--"
"They're explorers, doctor. That's what explorers do."
"I'm afraid if you've hired me on to keep them alive, I can't--"
Hammond took her shoulders, and said, "Think of how many perished with Columbus. With Magellan. And Apollo-1. Challenger. No one's asking you to save any lives, Captain."
"Doctor."
"Hm?"
"It's Doctor, not Captain."
"Okay, Doctor Fraiser. This anxiety you feel is it because of the doctor or because you're afraid to die?"
"We're all afraid to die. I just don't want it to have been meaningless when my friend--the fellow soldier at my side--comes to snap my neck." Her eyes filled with tears. She squeezed them shut, and Hammond's fingers dug into her shoulders gently.
He said, "We're all insignificant, it feels like. Even more now than we were a few weeks ago. When we didn't know how big the universe was."
"We still don't know, sir."
He said, "We're going to find out."
* * *
Sam sat impatiently on the medical bed as Janet put salve on her knuckles. Janet said, "A knife fight? Really?"
"I won," Sam said.
"When they told me I'd be dealing with aliens, I expected less... conventional medicine."
"Yeah, well, when they told me I'd finally be an astronaut, I didn't expect to be punching out some redneck tribesman."
"The Air Force really screwed us," Janet said, and smiled warmly.
Sam smiled back, meeting her eyes, and said, "We should make the best of it."
Janet squeezed the fingers of the hand she was holding and said, "You know know an Air Force officer makes the best of things?"
"Going out drinking with her best buddy on the base."
"Exactly," Janet said, laughing.
Sam hopped off the bed and put her arm around Janet's shoulders. She said, "Doctor, I know just the place."
"Lead on, Captain Carter. Lead on."
END