Chapter 3

A week later Carson felt relieved. The day of departure had finally come. It promised nothing other than his friends and the crew of the Daedalus, and most importantly – no dealing with bureaucrats.

He thanked the sergeant who drove him to Area 51, took his suitcase and his bag and headed for the hangar where the Daedalus was waiting. Fortunately, all the supplies were on the ship already.

He read the boarding instructions only to see that he was to report to an officer for ...whatever the word meant. Between the lines, it was obvious that it was meant to make sure everybody got on board, but he couldn't care less. He'd had enough of checks, reports, requisitions and interviews.

He made his way towards the office. The feeling of a number of airmen and airwomen staring at a man in a pair of jeans and a sweater carrying a bag and a suitcase wasn't good. He quickly escaped them and entered the office where he would politely say that he'd come and they needn't look for him all around the globe.

»Hello.«

»Yes?« the officer answered from behind his desk.

»I'm Doctor Beckett. I'm here to report... that I'm here.«

»Ah, you're on the BC-304 transport?«

»I beg your pardon?«

»I believe those of you involved with the aircraft call it the Daedalus.«

»Ach,« Carson nodded, having stopped himself from sighing in irritation. His first impression of this officer was that he was as uptight as the SGC medical supply officer, if not worse.

»Alright,« the officer muttered to himself and took a clipboard from a pile on his neat desk. He turned a few pages until he found the one he was looking for, folding the rest to the back of the clipboard. »Doctor Bernard, you said?« he asked.

»No,« Carson said. »Doctor Beckett.«

»I only have one PhD in the biology section for the BC-304 flight.«

»I'm a medical doctor.«

»Oh,« The other man said, turning a few more pages. »Ah. There you are. Doctor Beckett, right?«

»Aye,« Carson gave the ceiling a glare. It was so dull he turned his gaze back to the desk.

The officer seemed to finally take a better look at him, scanning him from head to toe. Then he gave his papers another glance.

»Are those yours?« he asked, nudging his chin at Carson's suitcase.

»Aye, they're mine. Do you suppose I'd be carrying somebody else's?« Carson asked. He knew it might've been rude, but at that point he'd had enough of bureaucrats and didn't care if he hurt their hypothetical feelings or not. He just wanted to be on the ship already.

»No, I suppose not,« the officer said half-heartedly. He obviously wasn't sincere, but he didn't say a thing about it either.

Carson had already turned toward the door to get out when the officer called him back. »What now?« he groaned.

»Dr. Beckett, I have to inform you that you exceeded the maximum allowed amount of personal effects for transport with the BC-304.«

»What? This?« Carson gestured to the suitcase and the bag he had slung over his shoulder.

»This, and what you sent ahead.«

Carson was flabbergasted. He did send ahead a small box with a few things he didn't want to carry around. He didn't know they weren't allowed to take as much. After all, the Daedalus was not a small ship.

»Isn't there enough room on the ship?« he asked, knowing that the officer probably didn't know that. He was just there to make people's lives miserable.

»I was told what the limit on the amount of personal effects is. You've exceeded it.«

»How can a suitcase, a bag and a small box be too much per person? I'm told there will only be around fifty or sixty people there. That's with all the new people we're getting. «

»Doctor Beckett, you have over two hundred containers of your personal effects on the aircraft,« the officer told him as if he were talking to a child.

»Two hundred! Where did you get that number?«

»Take a look at the manifest yourself, Doctor.« He offered the clipboard to Carson. The doctor snatched it from his hand, looked at it himself. His jaw dropped open.

»You've marked all the medical supplies as my luggage, y'numpty!« he cried.

»Impossible. This was triple-checked,« the officer said calmly.

»Aye, this list does contain our medical supplies, but they are not my luggage.«

The officer frowned. »This is your signature, is it not?« He pointed at the clipboard.

Carson checked it again. »Aye, that is my signature.«

»Then they are your personal effects.«

»They're not personal effects. I am the Chief Medical Officer of the expedition. I have to approve all the supplies we requisition and receive. I have to sign the form.«

»But this clearly says they are your personal effects. I am sorry, Doctor, but I cannot allow you to take as much. You will have to leave some here.« The officer turned around and collected the clipboard in dismissal.

»But I told you, those are the medical supplies,« Carson wouldn't give in.

The officer didn't seem very pleased that he didn't get rid of the doctor. »Even so, there is an irregular number of containers. You will have to leave some here.«

»Why? I'd already told everybody how much we'll take and nobody said we shouldn't,« Carson protested.

»Well, I am in charge of the logistics at this airfield. You should have spoken to me. Even so, there is not enough room on the BC-304, Doctor,« the Lieutenant said irritably.

»There is. I'd already spoken to Colonel Caldwell about it and he assures me there is.«

»And did he specifically say there is also enough room for your personal effects if you take the supplies?«

»We never spoke about that.«

»There you go,« he waved a smug hand at Carson.

»No. I haven't fought for this with so many people just so you'll...« Carson stopped himself before he said anything that would only cause him more trouble. »What can be done about it?«

»Very well, I will have to speak to the Colonel. Wait here,« the officer told him. He picked up the phone while Carson sank into a chair behind the door.