Oath of Honor

“Commander, come in,” Wes said.

“I just wanted to say hello,” Peter said. “If you’re busy, I don’t

want to interrupt.”

“Just trying to get a handle on the operation. Have a seat.”

Peter pulled a straight-backed wooden chair from against the

wall in front of her desk and sat down. He was dressed in a tan blazer,

light brown button-down cotton shirt, and khaki pants. His tie was thin

and black with no pattern. Conservative. As close to a uniform as he

could get without wearing one. Wes sympathized. She felt vaguely

uncomfortable working out of uniform, especially when she passed

military personnel and officers from the Uniformed Division of the

Secret Service at every junction. Without the symbols of her rank that

had come to define her, she felt displaced, a lot like she did in this

strangely skewed new medical terrain.

“Anything I can help you with?” Peter said.

• 120 •

Oath Of hOnOr

“You can tell me if you think there are any protocols that need

updating or reviewing.”

He shifted ever so slightly in his seat, a tell indicating her question

had caught him off guard and made him a little uneasy. She couldn’t

imagine why the question would make him uncomfortable, but her

radar pinged—something was off.

“I can’t think of anything,” Peter finally said. “I know Len—Dr.

O’Shaughnessy—reviewed everything himself. Once in a while he’d

update some of the pharmaceuticals used in emergency protocols, but

he pretty much left the management of acute problems up to the team

handling the presenting problem.”

“So the same injury or medical condition might receive different

treatment depending on which team handled it?”

Peter shifted again. “Well, management is pretty standard, so I

don’t think anyone really deviated much.”

“How often does the team get together—for debriefings or case

review?”

“Our schedules can be pretty irregular—we’re not usually all

around at the same time. For Len—well, you now—especially. When

the president is traveling, Len almost always accompanied him, which

might mean he was detached to the president for weeks at a time.”

“Meaning there wasn’t really any unit Q&A.”

Peter hesitated. “Not per se, no.”

“Okay, thanks. That’s helpful.” Wes could see right away that her

idea of running a unit was completely different than the laissez-faire

attitude of her predecessor, and probably his before him. No one would

conceive of running an emergency room without standardized protocols

that everyone adhered to, departmental review of case outcomes, and

regular morbidity and mortality conferences. And yet this unit, which

not only cared for some of the most important individuals in the world,

but several hundred high-level staff and countless visitors, had only the

barest degree of internal organization or accountability. She planned

to change that and doubted anyone would be too happy about it. She

leaned forward on her desk and folded her hands. “Anything else you

think I should know?”

“No,” Peter said quickly. “It’s all standard stuff.”

“Yes, well, I gather that around here, standard means pretty much

a constant state of readiness.”

• 121 •

RADCLYfFE

“I guess that’s true.” He kneaded his jacket between his hands.

“Like most things, there’s a whole lot of preparing for situations that

never happen.”

“Let’s hope that continues to be the case.” Wes stood. “I should

have a new rotation schedule available for everyone in approximately

a week. Until then, everyone should continue with the rotations as

previously posted. If I’m needed at any time, my pager is listed with

the operators. I left my cell phone number on the board in the clinic

AOD office last night. Otherwise, carry on.”

He stood and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

She returned the salute. “Not necessary in private.”

“Hard habit to break.”

She nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Peter disappeared into the hall, and Wes sat back down behind her

desk. He didn’t seem to harbor any resentment, at least not outwardly.

He did seem uneasy, though, but that might just be because he didn’t

know her, and she had taken the job that presumably he had wanted.

Or maybe she was reading too much into the situation because Evyn

thought Chang deserved the job and not her. Evyn.

She hadn’t thought about her while she was working, but every

time she stopped, snippets of their conversations would start up again

in her mind. Along with that split second of gut-wrenching horror when

she’d thought Evyn was mortally wounded. Evyn was so certain of

what should be done and why. In order to do Evyn’s job, that kind

of mindset was probably necessary. She understood. She even agreed,

while another part of her mind questioned.

All Wes could hope was that her orders never conflicted with

her training, but ultimately, she would follow orders, regardless of the

consequences to others. Even Evyn. She shied away from the idea of

leaving Evyn wounded, without the care that might potentially save