#wp001

1. shut the fuck up 

"Sir? Sir?" Sterling jolted slightly, sea-green eyes focusing on the child in a lab coat standing in front of him, clip board held between gloved fingertips. 

"Sorry, wha' was tha'?" His brows furrowed as he looked down at her. Even sitting on the cool stainless steel lab table he was taller than the petite Asian lady. But the stern look on her face left him in no doubt as to who would be in charge in this situation.

"I asked you to extend your right arm," she repeated, her tone clipped though it was clear that she was trying to be patient with him. He held his arm out, flexing his fingers and curling them into fists, his mind drifting away again as she poked and prodded him. He'd grown used to all of the poking and prodding over the past year. But his attention was brought back to focus as she slid a needle into one of his upraised veins, glaring slightly. It was thicker than normal, and the solution inside was hidden by thick white plastic. 

"Nanites," she assured him as she pressed down on the plunger. "They're going to help us get some readings. They'll be out of your system within the next six hours." Sterling gave a small grunt in response, sliding down off of the table and following the doctor to the next room. She barely came up to his chest. 

The room was long, low ceilinged, and brightly lit. Rows of treadmills spanned its length, most of them occupied by other patients finishing up their final physical evaluations. 

A couple of techies came over and began attaching nodes to his bare chest, fitting a mask over the lower half of his face. A tube led from it, snaking up to the ceiling. Sterling new the drill. He climbed onto the treadmill. It started off at an easy pace, a brisk walk. The doctor watched the whole while, jotting down notes on her clipboard. The pace increased. 

This was the part he hated. His pulse jumped up, the engineer trying to keep his breathing from becoming labored. But with half a lung missing, that was difficult enough. And the nanites wouldn't lie for him. 

"Tired, Sterling?" She spoke loudly enough that he could hear her easily over the thudding of his own heart in his ears, the drumming of his feet against the treadmill. His eyes flashed slightly, muscular shoulders covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he shrugged them. She held the clipboard up, the entire board going clear so that he could see with his own eyes a live feed of his respiratory system. "Your body is telling me otherwise."

"Ah'm fine," he growled, his voice muffled by the face mask as he stared straight ahead, ignoring the data that said otherwise. 

"Your heart rate is at 125 bpm and your blood pressure is 130 over 86," the doctor rattled off, coolly. Her impatience with Sterling had been wearing thin over the past few months of training, his constant attitude with her, his stubborn way of disagreeing on every small matter that concerned his health. It made no sense to her. He was perfectly polite to the nurses and the other doctors. But she knew enough about his type to know when a man was uncomfortable with a woman being in charge. "Please step off the treadmill, Iwan."

He continued running for another twenty seconds, testing her slightly before he finally gave in and stepped off, pulling all the various cords and tubes from his face and chest as he started walking it off. Sweat was quite literally dripping from his forehead. Less than a mile run. 

"With these stats, I shouldn't clear you for the mission," the doctor began, her clip board returning to its opaque color, screening Sterling's view. Before he could protest, she lifted a finger, her eyes still locked on the screen below her. "But, seeing as you aren't going to be a part of the surveying crews, I'm going to okay you."

Sterling wasn't quite sure what to say. So he settled for a quick, somewhat painful tilt of his lips in what resembled a smile and a muttered, "Thank you, Doctor."