A Chance to Breath
Location: SGC Outside Briefing Room
Timeline: After Mission Briefing: Ruins
RADM Mike Fischer
It seemed that moments passed before the briefing was concluded and John had royally messed up by not entering the room. Lost and slightly confused he remained outside while team after team exited, going to places he felt he need not travel. The bulk of the bunch were militaristic, gun and guff in hand ready to take on the world and breath fire. There was a semblance to this, a recognition not in the people so much as the ideology. For a moment John thought he had been one, or part of one, but those thoughts were pushed back as he spotted Admiralty, recognizing the rank and the profile.
"Excuse me Admiral," John breathed stepping forward to partially obstruct in a notable effort of his needing demeanor, "a word if I may?"
"Sure John, what can I do for you?" Fisher asked as he exited the briefing room. He had wondered where John had been, and this answered his question.
"I...," he paused, not sure on how to phrase things without being condescending. John didn't know the man, didn't know his history. Not to put too fine a point on it, John hadn't a clue if this was all still part of some experiment considering how fractured his own mind was. Perhaps Admiral Fischer knew more than he would let on in the aftermath of questioning, or perhaps everything involving spoke truth and all parties were at the same level of mystery as John thought them to be. John took a breath and continued. "I don't mean to question decisions, doesn't seem appropriate given my understanding of where I'm at in relation. But I have to question the validity of sending me on a mission when I'm still an unknown factor. I've been checked by the medical staff, psychologically and medically so there's that. But there are outside variables to consider, especially forgoing sequestering. I could still be a danger, even though I have no memory of who I am or..., well anything to be honest. There are bits and pieces, I know the rank insignia on your uniform, how to spot a grunt from a flyboy, I know where Colorado is in relation to the rest of Earth, and even the notion that there are other worlds and other societies both ancient and perhaps far exceeding in technological advancements doesn't freak the hell out of me for some reason...,"
John knew he was rambling as he looked at the Admiral and read that he should get to the point. "What I'm trying to say is what if I see something during the mission that causes me to remember that I'm a weapon or a devastating trap devised by some unknown entity. Right now I'm in a active and passive state of mental acuteness. I know English, I can read and understand military terminology and protocol passively as if they were second nature; passive." John paused as his brow furrowed, "and apparently I understand a bit more about psychology," he shook his head in responds to continue. "Point is Admiral these are all passive. If I were to grab something on mission or witness something that caused an active state of acuteness I could very well be a danger to the mission. Is that a risk you're willing to take? Is it a subtle calculation with your planning and decision of assigning me? Or, is there something you know that I don't know which solidified your decision to send me out in the field because I got to tell you my quota of mysteries has been met and then some?"
Mike mulled over what John told him in a rambling, winding, statement. To be honest, he had thought of all those variables, and weighed the benefit to risk. Every decision he made while on duty could have life or death consequences, even down to just a simple procedure of dialing the stargate. Smiling a little, trying to reassure the other man, he finally spoke after a pause. "I had thought of who you are, and what you are capable of. The human element of this program, the..." he stopped for a moment, trying to find the right word.. "...the individual person is why I stayed around given the opportunity to retire. And you are a unique case, that is for sure. No memory, other than of Earth and English, on a planet far away from here .That should not be possible, as I know every person going and coming from this planet legally. It is possible that the Asgard had taken you away from here at some point, as they were the 'little green men' responsible for abductions, and misplaced you or forgot about you, or you escaped," he said. "But, that is why I'm sending the SDS team out as well, to provide security and to make sure you don't go crazy," he said with a smile. "Plus, you don't have the codes for the GDC, so if you somehow incapacitated the entire team, you'd never be able to return here," Mike told him matter of fact. "It's worth seeing what memories might return, to help you. Otherwise, you'll be stuck here for the next 30 years, or sent to a federal maximum security funny farm in solitary confinement, stuck with the daily entreaties of psychologists."
John didn't remember a planet, but there again, he didn't remember really anything. The word Asgard didn't elicit any sort of click in his mind, but it seemed that that is where the Admiral had faith in his origin story. John couldn't think on how he'd best trained personnel, but, there again, he didn't know what he was capable of doing. There hadn't been an evaluation of his particular skill set, and everything thus far had been in reflex, like muscle memory; a passive reaction to conversation or physical placement. Perhaps that's what the Admiral was banking on, physical placement, some sort of visible or physical resemblance that would cater a responds of memory or recollection.
John couldn't help but smirk. He didn't know Admiral Fischer, didn't understand this StarGate program he found himself to be. But the alternatives laid out by the Admiral wasn't much of an alternative. "I guess I have a date with a swirling vortex then." He took a breath, reassured that precautions were in place and pressed that he was already behind. But it was a notion that people were helping him that gave John a chance to breath...,
"Thank you Admiral." In an instant, instinct took him, a reflex action that caused John to snap his heels together and his body to go ridged at attention. He then raised his hand in the same move, a show of respect presenting in a salute that left his left hand at the camper of his forehead, palm facing the Admiral and thumb showing. It was almost in the same split of a second that John knew what he had done and recoiled.
"Well," he replied brow furrowing as his salute faded. "Qui ose gagne," he said after sometime before nodding and making his way towards the Gate Room.