Day 57, night; John's quarters; Attn: Rodney [F]
John dropped onto his bed and sighed, running his hands through his hair, thoroughly exhausted, and not in a good way.
The day had been busy, trying to sort through who among the non-Lantean, non-Athosian rescuees to trust and who still needed more thorough investigating. Their planets had all been completely decimated by the wraith and they had nowhere to go. There'd been an absolute asshole among them, some guy named Deldan yeny Ashet-- John had been led to understand that 'yeny' was a title of some sort making the man some kind of nobility-- who had insisted that he would not "go and live among a bunch of common, dirty nomads" under any circumstances. John had wanted to punch the guy in the face. Or maybe throw him through the wormhole back to the wraith planet they'd rescued him from. The thing was, he really wasn't suitable for the Athosians. The guy was an engineer and a pilot and while his planet's level of technology had been more in line with late World War I, they could probably use him here on Atlantis more effectively than the Athosians could. As icing on the cake, the guy had the ATA gene.
Most of the rescuees had been from planets far above the level of tech the Athosians chose to use, but far below what might be useful on Atlantis. For now, they were going to hold Rawys Echang, the glass cutter; Aldia Nidensam, a gunsmith; Yatha, who was a trader specialising in Ancient artifacts; and his snottiness, Ashet. Those four would be more thoroughly interviewed and, if they passed, asked to remain in Atlantis. All the rest-- three adults and two kids-- would be going over to the Mainland tomorrow, along with Rannal Loriskim, who was finally being released from the infirmary.
To make John's day even crappier, he'd had two of his people get into a fistfight, a boatload of complaints about his heavy-handed approach to getting people to participate in the talent show, and three anonymous tips that he should be investigating Jackson for violations of Article 125. John could easily ignore those, at least.
Then to top the day off, Evan had been in a terrible state. They'd reduced his meds to try to get him on the mend faster, which had left him alternately weepy and sullen. All John had been able to do was sit there and tell him it would be okay, as the infirmary staff had seemed to take John's visit as a sign that they should come into the isolation room every ten minutes.
John kicked off his shoes and pulled off his jacket, tossing it toward his desk. His eyes fell on the bottle of ruus wine that the Athosians had sent back with Miller as a thank-you present for John.
He shouldn't. He had a mission tomorrow.
But the mission wasn't till later...
And it had been a really, really crappy day.
John picked up his mug and headed for the desk.
The day had been busy, trying to sort through who among the non-Lantean, non-Athosian rescuees to trust and who still needed more thorough investigating. Their planets had all been completely decimated by the wraith and they had nowhere to go. There'd been an absolute asshole among them, some guy named Deldan yeny Ashet-- John had been led to understand that 'yeny' was a title of some sort making the man some kind of nobility-- who had insisted that he would not "go and live among a bunch of common, dirty nomads" under any circumstances. John had wanted to punch the guy in the face. Or maybe throw him through the wormhole back to the wraith planet they'd rescued him from. The thing was, he really wasn't suitable for the Athosians. The guy was an engineer and a pilot and while his planet's level of technology had been more in line with late World War I, they could probably use him here on Atlantis more effectively than the Athosians could. As icing on the cake, the guy had the ATA gene.
Most of the rescuees had been from planets far above the level of tech the Athosians chose to use, but far below what might be useful on Atlantis. For now, they were going to hold Rawys Echang, the glass cutter; Aldia Nidensam, a gunsmith; Yatha, who was a trader specialising in Ancient artifacts; and his snottiness, Ashet. Those four would be more thoroughly interviewed and, if they passed, asked to remain in Atlantis. All the rest-- three adults and two kids-- would be going over to the Mainland tomorrow, along with Rannal Loriskim, who was finally being released from the infirmary.
To make John's day even crappier, he'd had two of his people get into a fistfight, a boatload of complaints about his heavy-handed approach to getting people to participate in the talent show, and three anonymous tips that he should be investigating Jackson for violations of Article 125. John could easily ignore those, at least.
Then to top the day off, Evan had been in a terrible state. They'd reduced his meds to try to get him on the mend faster, which had left him alternately weepy and sullen. All John had been able to do was sit there and tell him it would be okay, as the infirmary staff had seemed to take John's visit as a sign that they should come into the isolation room every ten minutes.
John kicked off his shoes and pulled off his jacket, tossing it toward his desk. His eyes fell on the bottle of ruus wine that the Athosians had sent back with Miller as a thank-you present for John.
He shouldn't. He had a mission tomorrow.
But the mission wasn't till later...
And it had been a really, really crappy day.
John picked up his mug and headed for the desk.