MEDICAL REPORT
Dr. Ida Kapstein sat at the table abutting Uhlrich’s desk. He could fairly feel her radiating displeasure. He pictured her in a white medical smock, gleaming and crisp.
Diplomatically, Uhlrich began, “I’m sorry to call you away from your duties, Doctor.”
Her voice almost growling, Kapstein answered, “I figured it must be important if you wanted me to come to your office.”
“It’s about Grant Simpson.”
“Ah. I should have guessed.”
Uhlrich steepled his fingers. “This is a rather delicate matter.” He waited for her to respond, but she just sat there like a block of cement, silently staring at him.
At last he said, “I need to know about his drug use.”
Kapstein’s tone turned even more nettled. “There is a certain expectation of doctor-patient confidentiality, Professor.”
Smiling thinly, Uhlrich said, “Even when the safety of the entire Farside staff is at stake?”
The doctor hesitated. Then, “I don’t think that’s at issue.”
“Would the technician Henderson have been injured if Simpson had been at his job, where he should have been?”
Sounding surprised, she said, “It was my understanding that you sent him over to Selene.”
“Why he was away from his position is not the question here. The question is, would that technician have been injured if Simpson was where he should have been?”
“That’s got nothing to do with the medications he’s taking.”
Uhlrich realized she was being loyal to Simpson, not to himself.
“Doctor,” he said, as amicably as he could manage, “my task is to ensure that my staff works in the safest environment possible.”
“Grant Simpson isn’t a threat to anybody’s safety,” she said flatly.
“He’s not taking narcotics?”
“Not that I know of.”
“What medications have you prescribed for him?”
“That’s on record. You can look it up in the medical files.”
“Please enlighten me.”
He sensed Dr. Kapstein tugging her phone from the breast pocket of her coverall. She said to it, “Simpson, Grant, medications prescribed. Audio presentation.”
She held the phone up so that Uhlrich could hear its tinny voice. It was a long list, mostly incomprehensible.
“I’m afraid I’m not up on the pharmaceutical terminology,” the professor said.
“Most of it’s pretty standard for somebody who works out on the surface a lot. Anti-radiation meds, a couple of stem cell injections to repair damage caused by radiation exposure.”
“You said ‘most of it,’” Uhlrich said.
“He’s taking some steroids, too,” the doctor admitted grudgingly.
“Steroids? Why?”
“They improve physical performance. Stamina. Strength.” Her voice went strangely gentle as she added, “Some men use them in place of aphrodisiacs.”
Uhlrich felt his face flush.
The doctor quickly continued, “But Grant isn’t using them that way, I’m sure. He’s taking steroids to help him do his work outside. It isn’t easy, you know, out on the surface stuffed inside one of those hard-shell suits.”
Steepling his fingers again, Uhlrich asked, “If he didn’t have to work on the surface, could he stop taking these medications?”
She thought a moment before replying, “Yes, I suppose so.”
“What kind of an answer is that?”
Sounding uncomfortable, Dr. Kapstein said, “Well, some of those steroids can be habit-forming. It could be hard to shake loose of them.”
“Like withdrawing from narcotics?”
“Different symptoms, but—yes, sort of like narcotics withdrawal.”
“I see.”
“Trouble is,” the doctor continued, “he’s going to have to stop the steroids, sooner or later.”
“Why is that?”
“Side effects build up. Liver deterioration, for one thing. His liver function is already in decline.”
“It is?”
“Nothing serious. Not yet. But…” She left the conclusion unspoken.
Abruptly, Uhlrich got to his feet. “Thank you, Dr. Kapstein. You’ve been most helpful.”
She pushed her bulk up from the chair, making Uhlrich wonder how she would fare if she ever went back Earthside.
He walked her to the door, then slid it shut again and returned to his desk. I should prohibit Simpson from working outside, Uhlrich told himself. Yet I’m going to need him to direct building the mirrors at their crater sites.
His decision was clear. Work Simpson as hard as possible. Get those mirrors built. Monitor the man’s medical condition, of course, but by all means get him to build those mirrors!
Smiling to himself, Uhlrich asked his phone when he could expect Dr. Cardenas to return his call.
The phone replayed Cardenas’s response to his earlier call: “I’m going to be in conference with Anita Halleck for most of the morning, Professor Uhlrich. I’ll call you back after lunch.”
Anita Halleck! Uhlrich trembled with sudden anger. That woman is going to usurp Cardenas’s time and effort, steal her away from me, ruin my chance to be the first to image Sirius C.
He saw his Nobel Prize crumbling before his eyes.