Warning: This Job is Hazardous to Your Health

by Kodiak Bear Country

Written for the sga flashfic sickness challenge. A five things fic with four missions that make the team sick and one that didn't. Warning, crass humor and pop culture references abound.

Title: WARNING: this job -strike-may be-strike- is hazardous to your health.Author: kodiak bear
Cat: Gen/humor
Rating: T, for language
Spoilers: 3x03, 3x07; set before the events in 3x10 but after McKay and Mrs. Miller.
Warnings: Please check all maturity at the click. Crass humor, pop culture references, and disgusting situations.
Summary: A five things sickness bonanza; the four ways in which their missions make them sick, and one where it doesn't.
Big thanks to my hard-working betas: withapostrophe, bladegirl, friendshipper, gaunicorn, wordwitch, sgatazmy and linzi5. You all brought many different things to the table, and while I looked seriously at the circular file at times, your encouragement and advice was invaluable. Written for the sga flashfic sickness challenge.

WARNING: this job -strike-may be -strike- is hazardous to your health.

By Kodiak bear

I. Rituals suck, and next time, we're taking swamp world #37.

The Doria people were a nice change from the typical spear-pointing welcome. Sheppard didn't even mind having to sit through four speeches on the virtues of good friends and successful trading relationships. The long building with bench tables running in rows was full of people in colorful tunics of cotton-like cloth. The pillows everyone used in place of chairs were soft. All things considered, there were worse ways to spend a lazy afternoon.

Like being chased at gunpoint, or waking up in a cell after being unexpectedly stunned. Recently, tranquilizer darts ranked number one on his list of "top ten least favorite ways of being knocked unconscious." So, really, a dish of something that closely resembled mince meat pie, candlelight, and pretty people to stare at? Count him there! And too bad for Lorne for losing Rock, Paper, Scissors and getting stuck with swamp world number 36.

"Surprisingly, this is actually pleasant." McKay drank deeply from his tall glass of pink liquid. "Why can't we get this more often?"

"Because," Ronon said.

"Because why?"

Ronon swept a distrustful glance around the room, even while speaker number five prepared his notes at the front of the room. "Because if it looks too good to be true, it probably is."

"Got that saying on your world, too, huh?" Sheppard guessed.

Teyla twitched at Sheppard's side. "I believe it is a universal truth, John. Appearances can often be deceiving. Still, I do not feel these people are hiding anything." Her eyes narrowed at the heaping serving dishes staged in intervals along the wooden slabs. "I sense nothing but good will."

Sheppard shuddered. "Didn't you say that about--?"

"The same Neanderthals that shot an arrow in my --"

"Yes, Rodney," Teyla interrupted, "I remember."

The loud, gruff clearing of a man's throat staved off further memories of their recent close call. Ronon had stayed noticeably silent.

"Honored guests, esteemed people of Doria! As our time of celebration approaches its natural conclusion, let us prepare for the time of renewal!" The speaker, Sheppard recalled, was the Dorian leader, Magnus. A hulk of a man, bald, in his mid-thirties, and always smiling like he was granted the constant "in" on jokes no one else seemed to be getting. His clothes were bright pink, dyed probably from the same flowers that floated in bowls of water decorating the room.

Despite the innocuousness of his clothes and his congenial looks, Sheppard recognized the bearing of a trained fighter. Magnus carried himself like Ronon, and Sheppard could think of a lot of people he'd rather go up against than this guy. People that wouldn't break his bones with one absent-minded swipe of an arm. Fortunately, Magnus didn't seem to be near as hot-headed as Sheppard's Satedan teammate.

The mention of renewal seemed to be a cue, and four young children around eight to ten years old began to walk in through two doors on either side of Magnus. They carried a heavy stack of bowls in their arms. Empty bowls.

"Tithing time?" Rodney screwed his eyes up. "What? Are we supposed to fill them with powerbars, bullets, Sheppard's little black book?"

Sheppard shot Rodney a withering glare.

"I do not know," Teyla said. She looked on uneasily as the children in their identical white robes continued to hand out the red-colored, medium-sized pottery containers. They were bulky, and each child could only carry five at a time. They left and returned repeatedly, bringing more, until everyone had a pot beside them, including Sheppard and his team.

"Well this is interesting. Free gift day?" Sheppard wished he believed it was something that simple.

Ronon stared at his pot like it was a rattle snake. "Sheppard, I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Just because our luck is often poor, does not mean this is anything more than a token of goodwill." Teyla tried to be the voice of reason, and it might have worked, if she hadn't scooted away from her bowl as if it contained an invisible plague.

When the smell hit Sheppard's nose, he realized he'd misjudged Teyla's movements. "Christ," he swore. "You okay?"

"I…I think maybe I should excuse myself --"

"You think? Jesus, Teyla, what died --"

Sheppard punched Rodney's shoulder, hard.

Magnus raised his bowl and called, "Let us rid ourselves of all the sickness that lingers inside, so that we will dine again in good health!"

That was about the time when Sheppard's stomach flipped painfully. He shared a flat, worried look with Rodney. "Let's get out of here," he said.

Ronon was already standing before he finished. "Poison?" he asked, looking at row after row of Dorians, who continued to smile warmly.

There was a loud, drawn out squeaking sound from across the table. A small, old woman grimaced and put a hand to her stomach. When she caught Sheppard staring, she said encouragingly, "It is soon past."

"Oh, God," moaned Rodney, clutching his gut. "They poisoned us!"

Enough was enough. Whatever was going on, Sheppard was pretty sure they'd stumbled into something that could be categorized as "bad". He stood only to buckle at the waist when an angry cramp tore through his belly. "Ow, sonofa --" he swore.

"We're doomed," Rodney moaned.

Sheppard glared. "You're always looking on the bright side of life, McKay." Still, as the pain eased, he was more than a little worried that Rodney wasn't far off this time.

"Colonel Sheppard, is something wrong?" Magnus asked, solicitously. He'd left the front and now stood anxiously near.

"Yes, something's wrong," Rodney snapped. "You poisoned us!"

"I do not understand. You do not do this on your world?"

Ronon got his hands around Teyla's shoulders. The sound of a Dorian vomiting behind them drained the color from her normally healthy-looking skin. The smell quickly spread around them, dispersing in the air like someone had sprayed a can of concentrated stink.

"Do what?" Sheppard ground out. His stomach felt like a million tiny, pissed-off ants were crawling around, getting ready to launch an all-out assault on his throat.

"Cleanse the body," Magnus clarified. His smile ratcheted into pure pleasure. "It is a holy act. To rid yourself of the build-up of toxins. We normally perform the ritual once every six months, but in honor of your visit we thought it appropriate to make an exception."

"I really wish you hadn't." Sheppard figured it was their luck that being honored included pain and a side-dish of humiliation.

"Are you complete idiots? Who would willingly make themselves sick?" Rodney's face twisted. "We've got to go. Now. Get a sample," he demanded. "I'll meet you outside." With saying that, he began to do a kind of bent-over shuffle towards the door at the opposite end of the room. Two explosive sounds followed him out. He only paused after the first one.

Sheppard took a second to close his eyes and count to a hundred, because ten had long ago quit hacking it, and twenty only touched the tip of his iceberg: the SS Bad Shit Happens to Me Way too Fucking Much.

"Magnus, it is not our way," Teyla explained, shakily. "Our beliefs are not like yours."

More vomiting sounds filled the room, and Sheppard reluctantly opened his eyes. "We need a sample to take back for our doctors." Another vicious cramp snaked through his gut. "Any idea how long this normally lasts?"

"Of course." The smile slipped a notch. He waved at one of the children and whispered muffled instructions when the child came close. After he was finished, he turned back to Sheppard. "It is only a few hours of discomfort; for six months of purity, it is a price we willingly pay."

Ronon suddenly jerked. A sickeningly strong odor drifted around them. When Sheppard stared at the runner, Ronon grinned. "Sorry," he said.

"No you're not."

"Not really."

"Ronon --" Teyla lurched forward, gasping. "Outside, please."

Sheppard waved his hand at the door. "Go, I'll be there in a minute." He watched as the two joined Rodney outside. The smell in the room had grown to proportions no frat house could ever achieve. Not even on Friday night. Damn. The kid didn't take long and soon Magnus handed Sheppard a small leather pouch.

"We mix it into the drink. I assure you, it is only a purgative. It is harmless. I hope this will not affect our negotiations?" Magnus' grin was back to full-wattage.

"No, no, I'm sure it'll be fine," Sheppard said through clenched teeth. A burning taste in his mouth heralded the ants' strategic upward movements. He desperately needed Pepto Bismo, or Mylanta, to counter their attack; but before he faced the short walk back to the Jumper, and the relief Carson could give him, Sheppard had to know, "Why aren't you sick?" Looking around the room, he could see that a majority of the Dorians were now curled up around their pots, some actively filling theirs, while others were limp and waiting for the second bout to strike. But Magnus didn't even look like he'd broken a sweat. Seeing how Sheppard was pretty sure his forehead resembled a perspiring glass of iced-tea on a hot summer day, he figured the head honcho, for all his talk of purity and cleansing, wasn't willing to partake with the little people.

That's why he was surprised when a very honest, disappointed look stole Magnus' grin away. "It is my turn to serve as witness. I must abstain, but we share that burden equally among the council, with each taking a turn. And now," he said, brightening, "because of this unscheduled cleansing, I will get my turn sooner. Your visit was most fortuitous."

"Yeah," Sheppard gasped. "Glad to be of service. We'll be in touch." Before he could embarrass himself further, he tucked the pouch into his vest pocket, and stumbled out of the room.

He found his team kneeling in the dirt by the side of the building. "Let's go," he choked. Then, he dropped, and lost about five pounds in the dirt next to Ronon. In the middle of heaving, Sheppard vowed that the next time Lorne challenged him to best three out of three, he was throwing the game and taking swamp world number 37.

Fucking ants.

II. Knock, Knock! Who's there? Insanity. Insanity who? Insanity is coming for you!

When the sedative wore off, Sheppard woke to find himself in a bed. He'd spent the better part of two days arguing, threatening, and cajoling the leaders of MX8-344 to release McKay. He groaned and tried to remember what had happened. He'd been sitting at the table, explaining for the hundredth time that, yes, Rodney could be abrasive, but his lack of manners did not indicate a mental imbalance. Then something –

"Crap," he groaned. He'd been slipped a mickey. A woman had asked if he wanted something to drink, and he'd been knee-deep in his arguments. He'd taken the cup and chugged the water without a second thought. All that talking had made him thirsty.

Sheppard remembered growing sleepy. The room had gotten hot, and he'd tried to stand, only to find his legs had turned to jelly at some point, and refused to support his weight. The last thing he remembered was the court-appointed representative for McKay leaning over him and soothing, "It's all right, Colonel. We had no idea the mental illness had infected you as well."

"Nuh --" he'd tried to protest. Then everything had gone black.

A small groan escaped when he tried to sit up.

"Sheppard? What are you doing in here?"

Through blurry vision, Sheppard could see a figure standing in his doorway. "M'Kay?"

The figure hurried in and stood over him. "You're supposed to be rescuing me! How can you rescue me if you're stuck in here?"

"I didn't intend to get thrown in here." God, his head was ringing like the Liberty Bell. With a lot of effort, Sheppard managed to sit. Okay, okay, so he needed a little help from Rodney. Point being, despite his aching head and queasy stomach, he was up. "They drugged me when I was trying to get you released."

"You let them drug you?" Rodney demanded. "How could you let them drug you? This is…this is bad."

Sheppard nodded and winced. "Trust me, it wasn't part of my plan." He realized they were really in trouble now. They'd thrown him in with McKay. As much as he appreciated being reunited with his missing teammate, this was bad. The institution was too well-guarded for a conventional rescue, unless they were willing to induce multiple civilian casualties. It was why Elizabeth had authorized negotiating only; no storming the castle. Ronon and Teyla were still out there, but Sheppard had a sinking suspicion they'd only wind up in here with him and McKay if they tried the same tactics Sheppard had.

He started to take in details. Rodney was wearing white scrubs and blue slippers. Sheppard had on the same clothes as Rodney, sans the slippers, and seeing how he had been wearing his uniform, that meant someone had stripped him and dressed him in the new outfit. He hated that. Half the damn galaxy had seen him naked by now. The room had one metal-frame bed, a small nightstand and that was it. Spartan.

"So," he asked Rodney, "any chess boards?"

OoO

Day one consisted of a staff member explaining to Sheppard that he'd been deemed "contaminated" by his friend's illness. That his adamant statements that Rodney was sane, were, in themselves, proof of Sheppard's insanity. When he tried to argue again that Rodney wasn't insane, just rude, the nice staff lady with the sharp needle had explained that there was to be none of that. Deciding quietness was the better side of valor, Sheppard had meekly gone on the grand tour. He studied every single exit and judged the ones worthy of follow-up study.

Entry to the bathrooms and showers was granted upon request and were kept locked at all times. Simple tumbler lock. A good wire and he could get it open. Unfortunately, flushing themselves out the sewer wasn't an option, so that was pointless. Then again, 24/7 access to toilets, yay me, Sheppard thought wryly. The staff room had a keypad with a code. Not so easy there. If Sheppard had to guess, he'd say an exit out of the building was via the staff room; the most traffic seemed to come and go through that door.

Windows were along the top of the ceiling, spilling sunlight down into the rooms, and high enough to be out of reach. Not even standing on a chair would get him near enough to try that route. Rodney pointed out that they could stack four chairs, but then Sheppard said, "And when one of us is through the window, who is going to hold the furniture tower in place for the next person?"

Food was delivered via an outside service three times a day. The large carts were wheeled in through the staff door, solidifying his suspicions on the location of the exit.

There wasn't a chess board, but they had this thing with pebbles and holes, and it helped pass the time. It was after Rodney had shown Sheppard his assigned room that the colonel's suspicions about the small man hanging back in the shadows were confirmed. "Rodney, why is that guy following you?"

The man stood to the side of Rodney's door while they lounged inside. Rodney had only been institutionalized for two days and already bits and pieces of wire and electronics littered his room.

"Oh, that's my friend." Rodney smiled happily. "Felix."

"Felix?"

"Yeah." Rodney looked at Sheppard in a "come on, get it, I know you can" way. But Sheppard didn't get it. He sighed and explained, "You know, the cat – Felix the cat. A cartoon. Jesus, were you that deprived as a child?"

Sheppard narrowed his eyes and stared at Felix suspiciously. "I was more of the Scooby Doo kind of kid."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why, don't I look like the Scooby type?"

Rodney shook his head, acting as if they'd just discovered something incompatible in their relationship and said, "No, not really."

"Hi…hi," stuttered Felix.

"You talk," gaped Rodney.

"You didn't know he talked?"

"It's the first time. He's followed me around since I got here; I just assumed he was mute, or, you know, brain damaged."

The small man waved childishly and said, "My name's Felix. McKay said so."

On day two, a doctor sat him down and explained that even though he'd been found insane, there was still hope. All he had to do was participate in therapy, show adequate progress, and maybe at the end of the year when his case went up for review, they'd deem him "suitably recovered".

Rodney looked morose and said, "It's two years before my case is reviewed."

Felix grinned and said, "They tell me I'm a lifer."

Sheppard wanted to tell the doctor that if he wasn't insane before, he would be after a year of this.

He got Felix to get a couple of his friends and stage a stake-out on the staff room. The goal: get the key code. Rodney said, "Nice try. They change it daily."

"Well, then, we'll just have to move fast, won't we." Sheppard refused to be infected any further by Rodney. Insanity, pessimism, it's all part of the psyche.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner were all variations of the same food item. In the morning, it was served ground up, in porridge form. For lunch, it had the square shape of lunch meat and was shoved between two thick crackers. Dinner, it took on the persona of meat loaf. And all of the above tasted like saw dust. He'd have to be insane to eat that stuff.

Rodney bugged him to play the pebble-in-the-hole game. Felix gave them regular updates on the stake-out. In the end, the nurse with the pointy needle arrived, dragging Felix along, and told Sheppard if he incited any further "take-outs" that he'd be thrown into isolation.

Day three started promisingly. Felix and Rodney created a spy-scope out of paper rolls and a glass smuggled off the dinner tray the previous night. When the staff had demanded the missing cup be produced, or the entire ward would be searched, Felix pulled another from under his bed. Sheppard had no idea where he'd gotten a second one, but it saved their asses.

They hovered in Sheppard's doorway, and spied on the keypad, waiting. Two times a staff member keyed the code, but both times the angle of their bodies blocked the view. The third time, a large body blocked Sheppard's view, and the very big guy pulled the homemade monocular from Sheppard's hand and said, "This is not looking good for your case review, John."

Sheppard straightened with as much dignity as he could. "Only a nut wouldn't try to escape this place. I told you; I'm not crazy, and neither is McKay."

The burly man tsk'ed. "Inciting rebellion gets you 48 hours in isolation. You were warned."

Sheppard tried to punch the guy, just for appearance's sake, but his fist met a stomach as hard as steel and next thing he knew, Felix was leaning over him and waving, "Bye, bye."

Days four and five sucked.

Day six he was granted a shower.

Day seven, guards showed up; Elizabeth followed behind.

"Your people have negotiated a deal," Guard 1 said.

Elizabeth smiled tightly.

Rodney stared sadly at Felix. "Can we --" he started to ask Elizabeth.

"No." Sheppard grabbed his uniform from Guard 2.

By the time they were dressed and ready to leave, Felix was looking like some bully had stolen his candy. Guard 1 opened the door, and Sheppard got a good look at the key code. Lowly guards sure could be stupid. For that matter, soldiers could be stupid, too, but Mrs. Sheppard didn't raise no dummy. You wouldn't catch Sheppard punching in a key code with an audience looking over his shoulder. This guy didn't even try to hide it, his assumption being that it wouldn't matter because they were getting out anyway.

Felix suddenly ran up and latched onto Rodney. "Bye, bye, McKay!"

Rodney looked again at Elizabeth, "Come on, he's harmless."

Guard 2 said, "Time to leave, before we withdraw our offer."

Sheppard got the hug next. While Felix was holding him tight, Sheppard leaned in and whispered, "2-3-7-1, enter. Give 'em hell, Felix."

"Bye, bye, Sheppard," Felix said, grinning happily.

The trip to the 'gate was quiet. Rodney had tried to say something, but Elizabeth had shook her head and said severely, "Not now, Rodney."

Ronon and Teyla were waiting anxiously by the DHD; okay, Teyla was the only one that looked anxious. Carson was there, along with Lorne. Instead of a, "Good to see you, Colonel, Rodney! Are you okay?" they got Ronon pulling his super blaster on them, and Teyla aiming her P90 at their chests.

"What's going on, buddy?" Sheppard asked Ronon.

"We're not the enemy!" Rodney stepped forward to push Teyla's gun to the side, but she tightened her hold and did something funky with her eyes, opening them wide and sort of jerking her head to the side. They were being watched?

Between clenched teeth she said, "Dr. McKay, you must not resist. We are to escort you back, where you will be placed in one of our rehabilitation centers."

"What? We don't have --"

Sheppard and Rodney got it at the same time. Definitely being observed. Play along. That kind of thing. They backed away and acted suitably cowed. Carson came near and pulled zip tie restraints from his vest. "Hands, Colonel," he instructed curtly, avoiding eye contact.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said. She looked pretty pissed.

Sheppard held his hands out and had to fight back the urge to punch someone. It had been a long week. Next, Rodney was restrained, and only then did Ronon lower his weapon and Teyla dialed Atlantis.

They were led through like prisoners going to the gallows. As soon as the 'gate snapped shut behind them, Sheppard turned to the nearest body, Teyla, and said, "Get these things off me."

Teyla pulled her knife free and moved to cut them, but Elizabeth touched her hand, staying her from doing so. "No." She turned to face Sheppard and Rodney. "Escort these gentlemen to my office, please."

Teyla sheathed her knife. "I'm sorry, Colonel." She took his arm while Ronon took Rodney's.

Sheppard yanked his arm free, seething. "I know the way." What was going on? Had someone drugged his people? He glanced first to Lorne, who quickly found a Marine to go order around. Carson ducked through the side exit. He looked over at Rodney and got a mirror image of his own irritation.

Rodney leaned in and hissed, "What's going on? They're acting mind-cleansed or something."

"Mind-cleansed?" Sheppard hissed back. "What the hell's that?"

"It's this thing, from a TV show. Oh, come on, you had to have watched Farscape."

"Scooby Doo, remember?"

"God, you are such a TV philistine. Your Catwoman knowledge sucks, you don't know Felix the cat --" At Sheppard's dark look, he sighed, "Fine, okay, so these people are on a spaceship, and then there's these other people, they're the bad guys. They suck the good guys' eyeballs out, inject some kind of drug that makes them all weird and controlled, and --"

"Ruh-roh Raggy," Sheppard supplied, sotto-voice.

"Exactly," Rodney agreed.

Teyla guided Sheppard into a chair in front of Elizabeth's desk and Ronon shoved Rodney into the other. They then leaned watchfully against the wall, looking anything but mind-cleansed, as far as Sheppard could figure. "They don't look like someone's controlling them."

Rodney studied them before shrugging. "Yes, well, you never can tell what's motivating them."

Elizabeth came in a few moments later, shutting the door behind her. She strode to her desk, and Sheppard recognized the false calm before the storm. He started to open his mouth when she shook her head. "No, John. I don't want you to talk. Either of you." She stared pointedly at Rodney. "Just listen." She opened her desk drawer and pulled two slips of paper free, sliding them until there was one in front of Sheppard and one in front of Rodney.

"Before you are the legal forms committing you to receive care for your mental illnesses. Rodney, this fiasco started with you. Your continued rudeness with the liaison you were assigned to work with on MX8-344 was the basis for the actions that followed. Your behavior was seen as mentally unstable, and on their world anyone even remotely suspected as being mentally ill is thrown in an institution. Do you have any idea what it took to get them to release you both?"

Sheppard realized that was a rhetorical question.

Too bad Rodney didn't.

"Elizabeth, it's completely ludicrous! You can't honestly think this is my fault --"

Her lips thinned. "Did you, or did you not, call their scientist an 'imbecile born with impotent brain cells'?"

Rodney shifted in his chair, his zip-tied hands resting in his lap. "I might have," he finally admitted. "Still, since when is being a jerk proof of mental illness?"

"Since the moment you stepped foot on MX8-344," she replied icily. "And it wasn't just one insult, Rodney. It was several to more than one of their scientists! It's no wonder they thought you were insane."

Sheppard nodded. "Sometimes you do act a little nuts, McKay."

Elizabeth turned her attention on him. "And you! Just when I was making progress in getting you released, you go and rope all the other crazy people into some hair-brained escape plan that didn't have a hope in hell of working, making you look all the more guilty! I was this close," she made a small inch with her fingers, "and then suddenly they withdrew their offer, saying you were possibly sicker than they'd initially believed!"

Sheppard considered his options. Rodney looked at Sheppard. They looked at Elizabeth and said, in stereo, "It's not our fault."

She assessed them with a scary look that made Sheppard fear for her sanity, before she scooped the papers up and shoved them in her desk. "For the record," she said, sitting down, "I had to agree that you were both mentally ill. I had to agree to get you help, and I had to furnish proof of that agreement. As far as those papers are concerned, you are both supposed to arrive in Carson's care at 0900 this morning, and to remain there for a period of time undetermined. Until you have been suitably rehabilitated." She fixed a steely glare at both of them, but Sheppard kind of thought most of it was aimed at Rodney. "Am I understood?"

Rodney looked confused. "Um, go to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200?"

"Rodney --"

"Okay, okay." He sighed. "Fine, no insulting people outside of the expedition." She stared over her nose at him. "That's as much as I'm willing to promise," he added.

"John?" she asked.

"I didn't do anything!" Sheppard protested.

Rodney nudged him with an elbow and reminded him, "The escape attempt."

"That doesn't count. I didn't insult anyone."

Elizabeth looked disappointed. "It's your job, John, to control the members of your team. See that in the future, you do so."

Sheppard eyed her, disgruntled. He had six days of stubble, he was hungry, and he'd kill for a hot shower. "Great." Sheppard looked sideways at Rodney. "Next time you insult anyone off-world, I'm sending you through the 'gate without an IDC."

"Stop being facetious," lectured Elizabeth.

Exasperated, Sheppard raised his bound hands and gestured at McKay. "It's Rodney! Nothing's going to make him shut up."

Ronon chuckled, but quickly sobered when Teyla and Elizabeth focused their ire on him.

With a nod to Teyla, they were finally cut free of the plastic cuffs. Sheppard rubbed his hands and considered making a run for it. Then again, Rodney would probably never forgive him if Sheppard left him behind to face the rest of Elizabeth's anger alone.

She kept staring at them, as if debating whether to keep chewing them out, or to dismiss them. Finally, she waved tiredly at the door. "Just go. Try to remember that, in the future, I'm not always going to be capable of securing your release. These people were well-protected, John. You know that. The Daedalus isn't scheduled to return until next month and short of a surgical strike against their people, incurring casualties on both sides, we wouldn't have been able to free you. Rodney, you have to do better than try."

They stood. Sheppard hitched his pants and tried to think of something reassuring to say. Rodney grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door, muttering, "Don't bother. I think it's that time of the month."

Sheppard snorted. "No kidding. And they say we're nuts…"

III. I'm a bitch, I'm a tease; I'm a goddess on my knees. When you hurt, when you suffer, I'm your angel undercover.

taken from the lyrics "Bitch" byM. Brooks, S. Peiken

"Listen to this one," Rodney said exuberantly. "A blonde and a brunette --"

"Is this another one of your blonde jokes?" Sheppard interrupted. He powered the Jumper's systems and glanced over at Rodney sitting across from him. "Because Carter's more dangerous than your average blonde and I'd hate to have to replace you the next time she visits."

"What is a blonde joke?" Teyla asked, her question practically a challenge.

Rodney's cheerfulness faded and he and Sheppard exchanged glances that said "she's going to eat us alive now" and "it's not my fault." Ordinarily, Sheppard would have explained the Earth-ism and Teyla would have raised her eyebrow and said something like "hair color has little to do with intelligence" and it'd be delivered with a long-suffering smile.

But this wasn't an ordinary day. This was day twenty-six out of about twenty-eight, and Teyla's mood was far from patient and tolerant. She'd spent the last forty-eight hours biting everyone's head off. She had brought irritability to new levels. And frankly, she scared the shit out of Sheppard. Her and her sticks.

Having a female on his team meant that there were certain allowances that had to be made. Her kit contained a couple of extra things. Elizabeth was the one that had broached the topic and handled Teyla's introduction to Earth feminine hygiene products, thank God, because Sheppard wasn't up to that conversation. But it was Sheppard, Rodney and Ronon that split duties in making sure their kits were stocked with her favorite things when that time approached, just to make life easier on everyone.

She liked Moon Pies, so every time the Daedalus arrived it brought a few boxes of the treat in supplies marked for "Dr. Rodney McKay." She also liked foot massages with scented oil found only on Mangora, so Sheppard always had some acquired by whatever team was going on the monthly fresh fruit run. Ronon was the only volunteer to fight with her, providing her with an outlet for her aggression. Sheppard's survival instinct wouldn't let him.

Thankfully those months where Teyla's serenity was viciously subdued and replaced by a hormonal version of what she'd been like on the enzyme were few and far between. It just sucked that this month happened to be one of them. Sheppard counted on Teyla to be the voice of reason, to be their diplomatic "best-foot forward" because she had a lot more experience with that than he did. But the mood she was in, he was worried she'd start a war or something.

Maybe he should've tried harder to find an excuse that wouldn't have made Elizabeth furious with him. Saying "I think Teyla might not be in the right frame of mind for this mission because it's that time of the month, and she's having a really bad one" would've gotten him in the dog house and then some. Sheppard might not have grown up with a sister, but he wasn't stupid about women. Clueless, definitely, but not stupid.

He cleared his throat self-consciously and said, "Just a type of joke. Trust me. On our world we tend to make fun of everybody."

Ronon, the jerk, pressed forward, knowing perfectly well what was up. Rodney had been telling Ronon a lot of dirty jokes lately. "I'd like to hear it." He grinned mischievously when Sheppard glanced over his shoulder and glared.

"Uh, maybe another day," Rodney stalled. He found something in front of him to study. "We should really focus on the mission. If this goes well, we won't need to worry about over-extending our Naquadah generators."

"I am sure we have time." Teyla smiled dangerously. "I would love to hear this joke."

"Uh, Flight, this is Jumper One. We're ready to go." Sheppard ignored Rodney's mouthed "thank you."

"John, good luck and be careful."

Sheppard cringed. Elizabeth had no idea how much of a curse that was. Every time she said that, they wound up in trouble. He might as well power the ship down and say, "This mission is cursed. I'm not going." It'd probably save them all a lot of pain. Then again, that might earn him 48 hours under observation for acting a little paranoid. Cursed mission or infirmary?

"Roger that; you know we will." Definitely cursed mission. There was always the off-chance they'd get lucky. Hey, it happened! He steeled himself then lowered the Jumper through the doors and into the gateroom.

Thankfully, the joke was forgotten. Or just maybe Teyla had decided to have mercy on them. Seconds later, the ship exited the wormhole on MX9-996 and Rodney began speculating on just how much Naquadah there might be on the planet. They were going to broker an agreement with the Gaesh people to gain mining rights for the precious ore. A survey team had discovered sporadic deposits leading out from the mountains about five klicks from the village. The leader, a man named Bandar, had agreed to open negotiations, but only if Atlantis sent Sheppard's team to deal with the negotiations. They refused to do business with anyone else; Bandar wanted to deal only with the team he'd heard of on other worlds. Major Hasselbach hadn't made any progress and had finally returned to Atlantis, briefing Elizabeth on the request. The Major was one of the new officers that had arrived via the Daedalus about four months ago and while he was competent, he wasn't experienced yet in dealing with the other cultures. His report did include a survey of potential dangers and it was close to zero, so that much was reassuring. Not that you could ever eliminate or predict the multitude of ways missions could go pear-shaped or what hazards might be hidden.

Now, as they left the parked Jumper, Teyla stared suspiciously at the buildings and the smoke rising from the chimneys. "I do not like this."

"Your spidey sense tingling?" teased Rodney. At her icy look, he swallowed and said, "Maybe not."

Sheppard could see people on the edges of the village watching their approach. He waved good-naturedly. "Wraith?" She shook her head. He tried again, "I thought your people never had any dealings with the Gaesh?"

She shook her head a second time. "No, we have not. But asking for us, it is suspicious."

So, he was kind of hoping she could give him a solid reason to call it off. Asking for them specifically was something he'd labeled as proceed with caution, but it wasn't reason to walk away from a supply of Naquadah that they needed pretty bad. "Then we'll keep an eye out, but we need this agreement. Now that our ZPM is depleted, all we've got are the generators keeping the lights on." Sending the alternate Rodney home had come at a big price, energy-speaking.

Ronon stroked his gun. "Yeah, we'll keep an eye out."

Sheppard thought wistfully about locking both of them in a room. Teyla could take out her bitchiness on Ronon, and Ronon could fight with someone. Win-win situation. And generally, after Teyla let off some steam, she was a lot calmer.

'Course, they were on another world, and he didn't exactly have a locked room to put them in –

"Colonel Sheppard!" Bandar greeted, jogging up to Sheppard's team. "We've been expecting you! Ever since Major Hasselbach said that your leader had agreed to send you and your team, we've been waiting eagerly to meet you all!"

"Great," he said, eyeing the guy through his sun glasses. "Well, that's good. Then we can get straight to business." The sooner this was done, the better. And keeping Teyla's feelings in mind, Sheppard put extra effort into scanning the area around them. The village and the people. The only problem with "keeping an eye out" is that any society really good at duplicity was probably going to be able to hoodwink them no matter how careful they were. They weren't omniscient. Uncomfortably, he remembered the Genii. It was dumb luck they'd stumbled upon that bunker. Then again, he supposed if they hadn't wandered in where they weren't welcome, maybe a lot of trouble would have been avoided.

"Certainly, certainly, this way." Bandar gestured at the dirt path leading into the center of the village. "We have refreshments waiting in our council room, and plenty of comforts to make this an enjoyable time." He grinned and his jowls shook. "No need to make business unpleasant, yes?"

Rodney looked both revolted and intrigued. "Refreshments?" he asked. "That would be food, right?"

His question seemed to make Bandar smile wider, if that was even possible. "Oh, yes. Dr. McKay, is it?"

When Rodney beamed and said, "You've heard of me?"

Bandar continued, "We've heard of all of you! The exploits of Colonel Sheppard and his amazing team are becoming legendary! Why, we've heard that you destroyed twenty Hive ships, blew up a solar system, and are the Ancestors come back to save us all! How could we not want to negotiate with the Living Legends of Lantea!"

Sheppard and Rodney exchanged looks and Rodney's grin grew as he repeated, "Living Legends of Lantea – huh, I like it. Has a sort of ring to it, doesn't it?"

"We are not Ancestors." Teyla looked less than impressed. "And we have only destroyed five Hive ships"

Sheppard leaned over and said, "Seven if you include the two we turned against one another – that was my doing." He made a flying motion with his hand and smiled cockily. That'd been one of his finer moments and some pretty damn good flying. "Remember, I started shooting the other one in a borrowed Dart. And then there was that one we'd captured that the other Wraith destroyed…"

Teyla looked at him, paused for a long-suffering heartbeat, then turned back to Bandar and corrected, "Eight, then."

Bandar's effusiveness didn't even dim an ounce. "Only eight, dear, and you make that seem less impressive, but I assure you, it is not! That is still eight ships that will not be culling the rest of us, yes?" He bustled them into a building. "There, there, take a seat."

Sheppard had continued gathering information, noting everything that remained consistent with Hasselbach's report. The buildings were simple clapboard. So, the Gaesh were advanced enough to not be living in huts. He'd seen crops on the outskirts that looked to be thriving, so they weren't starving, and anyway, Bandar's bulk was testament to that as well. Most of the Gaesh seemed well-endowed from what he'd seen of the gawkers staring at his team as they were guided towards the building. No one was armed. He'd looked for telltale bulges under clothes just in case they were hiding weapons and hadn't seen anything.

Bandar himself seemed, okay, a little fawning, but was that really a bad thing? After getting greeted with swords and spears and guns, it was kind of nice for a change.

The council building was one large room, with three tables forming a U, and in the middle a small podium of scarred wood stood. They were guided towards chairs on the left side, and right after they sat, a woman entered bearing a pitcher while another followed with a tray carrying four glass mugs.

"Drink, drink!" Bandar encouraged. "Negotiations are always such dry, boring things."

One of the women leaned over Sheppard, and he got a bird's eye view of a very generous bosom. He tried to mask his gut reaction and he noticed he wasn't the only one. Rodney's eyes were focused in one spot and Ronon wasn't even trying to hide his enjoyment.

"Thank you," Teyla said coldly. She took the pitcher from the woman with a clear look of dismissal.

The woman pulled back, disappointed. Huh.

Before the one with the glasses could treat them to a similar view, Teyla took those, too.

"Spoilsport," Sheppard murmured. She glared.

With a snap, snap! of his fingers, Bandar summoned more overflowing bosoms attached to women serving dishes of meat, bread and vegetables. Teyla's already foul mood deepened as it became clear that on MX9-996, women were relegated to "serve me, wench" status. Of all the missions to run into this, it'd have to be now, when Teyla was not in the most benevolent of moods.

For the next five hours, Sheppard, Ronon and Rodney ate well and drank a lot – Bandar assured them it was a distilled cider that was entirely safe. After drinking the first glass slowly to make sure it wasn't alcoholic, and feeling no effects, Sheppard relaxed and stopped holding back, nodding at the rest of his team that it was fine. Teyla remained aloof and wary. Sheppard tried to get her to loosen up; the Gaesh seemed harmless and it wasn't like they weren't armed. They had their weapons; eating and drinking wasn't going to put them in mortal peril or anything.

She'd refused to budge, saying, "And choosing not to partake will similarly cause no harm as well. Colonel, I do not trust this man."

"He seems fine, Teyla." Sheppard hadn't seen anything to worry him. But he wasn't going to point out to Teyla that maybe a certain time of the month was affecting her mood, and just maybe she was being a little bit unreasonable and cranky.

"He is not trustworthy," she insisted, before lapsing back into watchfulness.

Every now and then, when Bandar would encourage her to drink and Sheppard would give her a sidelong look reminding her to be nice, she'd raise her glass and grudgingly take a sip. A very small sip. From across the room, Bandar couldn't see just how small, and he'd go back to smiling, pleased enough.

While they ate and drank, they worked. Sheppard offered items Atlantis could give in exchange for mining rights. Ronon ate and grinned. Sheppard and Rodney did most of the talking. Teyla occasionally interceded, stiffly disagreeing with terms Sheppard had thought were good enough. It wasn't like Earth couldn't afford to be generous, and it wasn't like he'd begrudge these people extra supplies. They were Wraith food. Sooner or later, unless the Wraith were defeated, this entire village would be culled and eaten.

But, then again, it was hard enough getting anything useful out of other worlds.

Maybe he'd let Teyla keep arguing. At least getting involved in the negotiations had seemed to loosen her up. She was animated instead of remote.

First she said, "We do not trade weaponry," which Sheppard agreed with.

But Bandar's boisterousness didn't even take a hit. "You understand, I had to try! My people are not fighters, Colonel. We simply rely on the good will of others." The leader drank more, and gestured at a woman to refill Sheppard's mug. "And it has served for many years before. I see no reason why it should not continue to do so." The leader was doing his best to ignore Teyla and Sheppard could see her hackles rising more and more.

Sheppard took a long sip of his refilled drink and raised an eyebrow at Teyla that said relax, it's nothing personal.

Then it was, "Sixty cases of medical supplies? That is robbery, Bandar! I did not know we were attempting to trade with thieves."

Rodney, sensing his supply of Naquadah disappearing kilogram by kilogram as a scowl replaced their host's florid smile, backpedaled. "Whoa, Teyla. I'm sure we can --"

"Rodney," she said tightly. "Be quiet."

"Forty cases is not so much to ask for unlimited access to our precious ore!" argued Bandar, staring pointedly at Sheppard.

"But you did not give us unlimited access." Teyla leaned forward on the table placing her body in between Bandar's line of sight with Sheppard, her jaw set in a hard-as-nails line that he rarely saw.

Sheppard leaned back in his chair, surprised at how hot it was getting in the room. He unzipped his jacket and took another drink, making a face at the bitter taste it left when he finished the rest of the cider. Bitter…bitter… Something in his brain tried to get Sheppard's attention, but he was quickly distracted by a woman leaning too close and whispering softly, "More meat?" He shook his head and felt a little dizzy.

"Ho, ho!" Bandar's beady eyes finally narrowed on Teyla now that she'd given him little choice, and though he laughed, Sheppard could sense the animosity boiling underneath. "So I did not. Very well, one hundred cases for unlimited access for one cycle."

Rodney nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, that's fine. When can we start mining?" He drank more and smiled crookedly.

A woman came close to the table, to pour Ronon another glassful, and he grabbed her, swinging her onto his lap, grinning like he was going to have her for dessert. Sheppard stared, surprised, then through a mind quickly growing muddled, told Ronon, "Knock it off." They were on a diplomatic mission to Alderan, damn it, and his people would act like the ambassadors that they were, so Darth Vader could just stuff it. Er, wait – wasn't that a movie? He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Rodney. "I'm not Obi-Wan, am I?"

When Rodney shook his head and said, "Not even close. You're Captain Kirk." Then Rodney grabbed his glass and downed the last of it. "And I'm Spock, watch me calculate." He laughed giddily. "Oh, God, I think there's something in this drink. I'm feeling…" he turned his eyes inward "reaaalllyyyy good. Like, no pain good." He thumped his glass down and focused blearily on Bandar. "Hey, you, what'd you say this was made from? Cause I'll give you twenty cases of whatever it was you wanted just for the recipe."

Ronon tried to stand, forgetting about the woman on his lap. Sheppard watched while they crashed to the ground in a tangled pile of arms and legs. The woman laughed coyly and threaded her arms around Ronon's neck.

"Hey big guy, forgot how to walk?" Sheppard asked.

This shouldn't be funny. Sheppard had alarm bells starting to ring, somewhere, only problem was, they were ringing from about ten-feet under water. "Hey," he said to the pretty but mean looking woman sitting next to him. Teyla. Yeah, that was her name. "Something's wrong…" Sheppard tried to stand, but his legs collapsed. He fell hard and tried to grab the table on his way down. Whoa, why was everything spinning?

"What have you done to them?" Teyla demanded.

"Nothing, I swear it." Sheppard could see Bandar standing near as he talked. "Perhaps there is something in the Juki that affects them differently than my people." His eyes shifted from Sheppard and Ronon, both still down on the floor, to Rodney, who continued to smile sloppily from his chair, and then back to Teyla. "Did you drink any?" he asked sharply.

"Very little," Teyla emphasized frostily. "Do you have rooms for us? They need rest."

Sheppard didn't want to go to bed. He told Teyla so. He wanted to go back to Carson, because he wasn't feeling so good. He told Teyla that too. She turned on him. "You must be quiet, Colonel."

He remembered her sticks and her bad mood and shut up, but he felt a little grumpy because Han Solo never would've taken that from Leia.

She ordered Bandar around, and soon Sheppard found himself dumped on a bed in a room in the only inn Gaesh had. There were two beds, but they were wide enough for two, so Rodney wound up lying next to Sheppard and Ronon got his own bed, already snoring softly.

Everything was spinning, and he felt a little sick. Rodney rolled against him and realized he'd hit another body, exploratively patting Sheppard on the back. "What are you doing in my bed?" he asked, surprised when his drugged mind put together what his hands had found.

"Don't know. Someone put me here."

"Oh."

Sheppard stared at the ceiling, trying to think. "Rodney?"

"What?"

"I think they drugged us."

Teyla leaned over him. "I am sure they have." She checked his pulse then his pupils before moving to Rodney. "What I am unsure of is why. If I had drunk, we would all be helpless by now."

"Why would they drug us?" Rodney asked, but it came out sounding like 'I ood ug us" because he was talking with his mouth smushed against Teyla's wrist while she checked his eyes.

She stood and looked at him worriedly, if not a little angrily. "That is what I intend to find out."

Sheppard almost felt sorry for Bandar. Then he passed out.

OoO

He was kind of surprised to wake up in the same room. His groaning drew Teyla over, and she slid one of her strong hands underneath his shoulders and helped him sit. Crap. That was it. He felt like crap. Warmed over and stirred. Bile crept up his throat and his head ached like two sledgehammers had hit simultaneously on both sides.

"Are you all right?" she asked, frowning at him.

"Are you?" Sheppard was peering through eyes that were alternating between squinting and looking and he could see how tired she looked. Like she hadn't slept in ages. Then he noticed the P90 held tightly in her other hand.

Drugged. They'd been drugged. He remembered the bitter taste in his mouth after finishing that last glass.

"I am fine." She finally let go of her P90, setting it on the bed by Sheppard's thigh, and went to the dresser, pouring a glass of water and returning. "Drink." He took the water and tried to be greedy, because his mouth tasted like wadded up dirty socks, but she pulled it back and scolded, "Only a little or it will not stay down."

Sheppard might have made a face along the lines of "aw, mom" but he checked himself and settled for a sip that only took the edges off his dry mouth.

More groans coming from Rodney and Ronon meant they were coming to. The next half-hour was spent with all three of them trying to shake off the after effects, at least enough to stand and move. Two things that Sheppard felt were particularly hard to do right now. "Crap, what'd they give us?"

"Something to keep you senseless." She fixed a stony look on Sheppard. "I told you I did not trust him."

"He seemed nice enough," Rodney defended.

"And do you not recall Chaya?"

"Hey!" Sheppard glared at that one. Chaya hadn't been so bad. Maybe she had kept a secret or two, and led them on a little, but she'd saved their lives and that had to count for something.

"Good point," agreed Rodney. He'd taken an instant dislike to the Ancient woman, long before he could prove why. Then he moaned and waved for Sheppard to pass over the water.

Teyla peered through the white curtains obscuring the window, pointedly ignoring Sheppard's protest. She studied whatever was out there for a few moments before turning back to look at them. Sheppard was sure they looked about as pitiful as they felt. "Do you think you can walk?"

He nodded, groaned, and stood, taking her offered support when his legs began to disagree with his brain. She helped Rodney and Ronon then she shoved their weapons against their chest and surveyed them skeptically.

"Bandar did this for a reason. I suggest we find out why." Then she opened the door. All. The. Way. Bright light barreled into Sheppard's eyes and he covered his face, wincing. She smiled, saccharine sweet and just as fake. "I'm sorry, does that hurt?"

Damn. Yeah, she was pissed. She'd suspected something was wrong from the get-go, and because Sheppard had blown off her concerns and chalked up her distrust to moodiness, she'd had to keep guard over three drugged teammates. Nothing like spending the night worried and sleepless to increase the grumpiness factor. "No, no," he assured her, refusing to admit just how much. His lips thinned in a pained line. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

Bandar, as it happened, was easy to find. He was sitting on the porch in front of the council building, a small stick in one hand and a knife in the other. He didn't look even slightly guilty. Sheppard stalked over. Okay, he stumbled. And maybe swayed. But he did it with style.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Sheppard demanded.

"Colonel?" Bandar kept whittling unconcernedly on his stick.

"You drugged us!" Sheppard's accusation almost sounded like he was six years-old and Bandar had promised to give Sheppard a turn on the swing and then reneged. There was nothing so bad as betrayal on a playground level.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he denied. This time he did stop whittling and looked up. He pasted a smile on that said something completely different. Their suspicious were dead on.

"You would have taken us prisoner. Be thankful you did not." Teyla tightened her hold on her weapon. "It would have been a grave mistake, Bandar. We may not have destroyed twenty Hive ships, but I assure you, we have killed many Wraith. We are not afraid to protect ourselves." She leaned closer to the Gaeshian leader, a ferocious look on her face. "Do you understand?"

A loud thump echoed as Bandar sat up, the chair dropping down on all four legs. The mask of bumbling, loud leader dissolved and a very crafty face replaced it. "Teyla Emmagan – surely you know how it is? I'm leader to my people; they depend on me to do whatever I can to protect our interests. If that includes selling four legendary figures to the highest bidder, no hard feelings intended." He smiled pleasantly. "So long as we understand one another, I see no reason why we can't continue to do business. It's nothing personal. Certain parties offer a pretty penny for any one of you, and an extra bonus for all four." Bandar's eyes narrowed on Sheppard. "Although, the highest price is on your head, Colonel." He chewed his lip pensively. "Not sure why, though. You were gullible enough last night. Not quite what I'd expect for a man gaining notoriety for his exploits."

Rodney was still hung up on the previous part. "You were going to sell us?" His mouth gaped. "What is it with this galaxy?"

"Dr. McKay, you are a man of singular interests. We knew that sprinkling this ore would draw you to us. Your predictability will get you yet."

"You baited us," Ronon growled. "Planted the Naquadah."

"I would never stoop so low as to sell others for my own people's gain." Teyla looked ready to punch Bandar for insinuating she'd do the same as he if her people's lives depended on it. Insulting Teyla's honor was a surefire way to get her really pissed off. Kind of like that day when she decked Bates. That'd been another one of those really bad months and her irritability had given Bates an "in" to get under her skin. That'd almost gotten her thrown in the brig for a cool down.

But Bandar wasn't Sergeant Bates and Sheppard almost wished she'd go for it. He wasn't going to pull her back. The bastard had lured them here and had planned to sell them to…to whom? "The Genii? Kolya? Who was the highest bidder, Bandar?" Sheppard grated. "And why let Teyla stop you? One woman was all that stood between you and a fortune."

Sheppard was baiting Bandar, now.

Too bad the Gaeshian man wasn't biting. He smiled a dirty grin. "Your woman is a fair shot, Colonel, or so I've heard. My people might be opportunists, but we are not suicidal. If she'd drank along with the rest of you, then you would've been unprotected and easy to capture. Since she didn't, you weren't, and fortunately I never ever arrange deals until I have the goods in hand. I prefer easy acquisitions, and they are readily available, let me assure you. But, telling you won't harm anything. Kolya of the Genii was most interested, the Wraith as well, or so rumor says," at Rodney's paling, Bandar shrugged, "it would've guaranteed our people safety. Anyway, there were a few other independents interested. I heard a great deal when I traveled to Ragna a few months back on another trading trip."

Rodney stared at Bandar, stared like his brain still hadn't gotten past the no Naquadah part and the selling them to the highest bidder part. "I can't believe this," he finally said. He turned to Teyla. "Shoot him."

That made Bandar's eyes widen, and Sheppard's too. "Rodney," he warned.

"No, I'm serious. We can't let something like this go. Soon the whole galaxy will think we're weak and everyone will try to spike our drinks and kidnap us. We got lucky, Sheppard."

"McKay's right. I say we shoot him." Ronon flipped his blaster setting to kill.

"Now, let's not be too hasty." Bandar put his hands up in an "everyone just calm down" gesture. "I'm sure we can come to an agreement about this. No one has to hear about what happened."

Sheppard regarded Bandar and shrugged. Maybe he could use this to get something out of this fiasco. "Yeah, maybe you're right. Shoot him Teyla." He nodded meaningfully her way and she exchanged a knowing look with him. There were times where they didn't need to use words.

She aimed her P90, looking very steady and very lethal. Bandar was sweating now, his eyes shifting rapidly from Sheppard to Teyla. "Colonel! You don't really want to kill me; it was a mistake, I admit that now, an error in judgment." Teyla's finger began to move just a little. "No, stop! Wait, wait. You're not murderers!"

"I think the Wraith would beg to differ with you. And Kolya." Sheppard smiled lazily. It was hard as hell to do with his queasy stomach and pounding head, but he forced his body to shape up and do what he needed. At least until he could collapse in the Jumper.

"Okay, okay!" Bandar's voice went high-pitched and squeaky when Teyla loaded the chamber. "What do you want? Anything, just name it!"

"No more bargaining with people's lives. No more selling to the highest bidder. No more trading human flesh for gain." Sheppard had finally figured out that much. Bandar wasn't new to this kind of thing; in fact, he'd probably been doing it for a long time. There was the realistic fact that this probably wouldn't change anything. For all that he wanted to eliminate this scumbag from an already repressed galaxy, it wasn't his job. Sheppard wasn't a vigilante and he wasn't going to go around shooting people based on how crummy of a person they were. But maybe their threats might make him think twice in the future about drugging people and selling them for profit. The ease with which Bandar had gone about his plan last night proved to Sheppard that the man wasn't new to duplicity and drugging and making underhanded deals that only benefited him. Sheppard knew there were people out here that would sell their soul to the devil just trying to save their own skin.

When Bandar hesitated to agree, Teyla shifted her aim a hair to the right of his head and pulled the trigger. Splintered wood struck his cheek and Bandar cringed, shouting, "Yes, yes, fine! Whatever you say, just go!"

"You know we've got ships," Ronon said. "We'll be watching you." He gave Bandar his most menacing look yet. Sheppard felt scared and it wasn't even aimed at him.

"All right, all right. I understand." Bandar looked defeated. "We'll stick to trading crops, I swear."

"Is there any way you could get us more of that Naquadah --" Rodney started hopefully, wincing around his headache.

"McKay, Jumper," Sheppard barked.

Rodney groaned and lifted a hand to massage his painful head. "Quieter, Sheppard. Just…talk quieter." Then he made a disgusted face because he was completely not getting any of the precious ore that he'd hoped for. "Great. Terrific. I need a T-shirt that says 'I 'gated to MX9-996 and all I got to show for it was being drugged'," Rodney bitched, throwing his hands up in resignation.

"Would you just go?" Sheppard's head pounded.

McKay looked like he wanted to try just one more time, but Ronon shoved him forward and stumbled after him. They headed toward the path that led to the cloaked Jumper. Sheppard was turning to follow when Bandar called, "Colonel, I'll give you the address of the world where I got that ore in exchange for your female!" The Gaeshian man eyed Teyla like she was an exotic fruit that he wanted to eat. "She is truly magnificent." She seethed at his words and he added, pulling back a little, "In a scary, heart-pumping way." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "A little on the thin side for my tastes, but I can fix that soon enough."

Teyla decked him. One moment Bandar was grinning lecherously, the next, his feet were flying up as the force of her blow sent his head whipping backward.

"Feel better?" Sheppard asked.

"Much."

"Good."

Sheppard smiled a little and put his sunglasses on. They left Bandar rubbing his jaw and picking himself up off the ground. PMS – gotta love it.

IV. RT-WP

Sheppard had seen some crazy things since 'gating to Atlantis. There were the life-sucking vampires and their pet bugs; human-sized robots with an AI that made Hal look friendly; he'd flown a nuke on a suicide run, played Indiana Jones on an alien world, and scoped intel in a virtual environment. So, you'd have to excuse him if, at times, he felt a little jaded by the things they saw.

Then again, there were always exceptions; MX9-113 was situated in a radiation belt. Overhead, brightly twisting multi-colored ribbons painted the sky. Next to this, the Aurora Borealis looked like a child's finger painting.

"You sure the radiation levels are safe?" Sheppard asked.

Rodney dropped the scanner, revealing a "duh" expression. "Would I be here if it wasn't?"

Sheppard cocked his head. "Point," he said. He surveyed the area around the 'gate. Ronon and Teyla were securing their CEMS – cumulative exposure metering system -- and scanning the area to their six. Vegetation around the immediate area consisted of ankle-high yellow grass with intermittent mangy patches of red dirt. The horizon looked fairly clear, except for some heavy shadows too far away in the distance for him to identify. Trees, maybe? He pulled his field glasses out and took a quick look.

"That looks like buildings," he said, squinting through the lenses. "What are you getting as far as life signs?"

In the background, Sheppard heard the kawoosh of the 'gate, followed by the snap of it shutting down.

"Nothing," Rodney grumped. When Sheppard narrowed his eyes, Rodney frowned at the device in his hands. "There's too much interference. All I'm getting is that there's life; it's lost the ability to distinguish between small and stupid, and large and probably sentient." There was a worm crawling over Sheppard's boot, and Rodney pointed at it. "See," he flipped the screen for Sheppard to look at, "I'm getting two readings where you're at. You, and wormy."

Sheppard reached down and picked the worm off his boot, staring at it suspiciously. "Wormy?" The black spots on the front end (or was that the back?) looked at him enigmatically; its fat, pale body wiggled in his palm. Sheppard made a face at the oozing sensation against his skin. "I think it just peed on me." Making a face, he scooted it off his hand and back into the grass where it'd apparently came from. He rubbed his hand against his pants. Gross.

"Ah, yes, definitely then. There you are, back to just you."

Ronon came up behind Sheppard. "It's clear behind us."

So, they had the buildings in the distance ahead of them – probably two to three hour march to get there. The energy and life-sign scans were useless. The only reason they'd gated to this world was because the Atlantis databanks had it placed on the same listing as Doranda. It wasn't a guarantee that they'd find anything, but seeing how Doranda had had an outpost with a potential super weapon, they didn't have the luxury of not checking this world out. Rodney had theorized after getting the initial MALP reports that perhaps the Ancients had mined the radiation belt for energy, possibly a missing link in building or recharging ZPM's. It was worth looking into, he'd said, looking excited at the prospect.

The planet was affected by an EM field; it was now standard in pre-mission MALP scans to check for that potential hazard. That ruled out taking a Jumper; otherwise, Sheppard would've gone back and gotten a ship rather than spend a day hiking under a sky full of radiation. Somehow he doubted Banana Boat SPF 30 was going to do squat for protecting against what was up above, no matter how safe Rodney insisted it was.

Of course, Rodney had already applied his homemade brew of SPF 100 that did not smell like coconuts. More like sour milk.

"It should not take more than three hours to reach the buildings," Teyla judged. "It is well within the window Radek said would be safe."

Rodney swiveled to look at Teyla. "And isn't that exactly what I said?"

She smiled sweetly.

Disgruntled, he tugged at the hanging badge clipped to his vest. "Besides, that's what these are for. It's about time Carson finally took my concerns seriously. At the rate we're going, we'll be human nightlights."

"Alright, we aren't getting negative exposure time here, so let's get going." Sheppard adjusted his P90, looking down his side to make sure his 9 mil was where it should be. Rodney could keep suggesting Sheppard's continual checking was OCD behavior until they were all buried six feet under and worm food; Sheppard couldn't get past the worry that some day some part of him wasn't gonna come through that wormhole. Until that day, he'd keep checking: two arms, two legs, and one 9 mm.

They started walking.

One hour and forty-three minutes later, Rodney picked another worm from Teyla's hair and swore, "What the hell is wrong with this place?"

If Sheppard hadn't been so busy checking every sudden itch, he would've thought up some witty comeback. But as it were, they all had to focus on keeping their skin and clothing insect free. Those slug-like worms were everywhere, and like ants at a picnic, they just kept slithering up and onto Sheppard and his team when they least expected it, like they were just more blades of grass on the ground to be climbed on.

"Try to walk only in the bare patches," Sheppard ordered. It was the grass – the worms were everywhere in the grass.

Ronon's lips wrinkled in disgust. "The whole planet's probably infested with these things."

Sheppard tried to hide the reflexive shudder. Everyone on his team (and even quite a few that weren't) knew he had bug issues. Just thinking about the chittering and slimy feel of the Iratus bug gave him hot flashes. Jesus. And here he'd spent the first thirty-plus years of his life thinking he'd made it relatively phobia-free. The only fear he'd ever had was of screwing up and costing one of his troops their life, and he'd faced that one a few times too many, anyway. But bugs – crap. At least the worms were small; it wasn't like they were going to sneak up on him and take a big unsuspecting bite of his neck before he could brush them off.

"They seem harmless." Teyla was handling it the best out of all of them. She picked another fat, wiggling worm from Sheppard's neck.

He twisted, trying to see the spot. "It didn't bite me, did it?"

Teyla's smile was patient. "No, John." She peered at the spot. "Although, it did secrete more of this…substance…"

He started wiping, and thinking maybe they should get entomology out here before they spent any more time on this wormhole of a planet.

"We are over halfway there," Teyla murmured, as if she'd read his thoughts.

Rodney shook his head. "We have no idea what this stuff could be doing to us. We should go back."

"It's just piss, McKay."

"And you would know that how?" Rodney demanded, glaring at Ronon. "It could be toxic, full of…of…"

"Toxins," Ronon grinned. "Flesh-eating acid, mind-altering slime."

Rodney's face blanched. "Oh, har har, make fun of the cautious one. We'll see how hard you laugh when you're stumbling aimlessly through the grass seeing purple cows and flying fish."

"Your mind is a weird place." Ronon stepped nearer Rodney, who flinched back, moving to protect himself, when the runner grinned deeper and plucked a worm from behind Rodney's ear.

"We'll keep going," Sheppard decided. At Rodney's disbelieving look, he pointed out, "Teyla's right, we're almost there, another hour at the most; and Ronon's said it, it's probably just worm piss. I'm not seeing double or hearing voices in my head, so, we're good." He stared down at another fleshy sucker crawling upwards. He kicked it off and stepped forward. "Besides, standing still is just letting them get easy access."

That's when Sheppard was suddenly assaulted with a massive display of colors and his vision telescoped. He wasn't in the field of grass and worms anymore; instead, he was surrounded by dark shapes. He was standing on a street, lined with tall buildings. Sheppard heard whispers -- hundreds of voices whispering -- but he couldn't see anyone. What the hell? A sharp pain ice-picked in the middle of his forehead, and Sheppard raised a hand to push it away.

"Go home! It is not safe!"

"John?"

When Sheppard peeled his eyes open, not even remembering that he'd shut them, he found Teyla staring anxiously at him. "Did you just see anything unusual?"

"See," Rodney declared. "Hallucinations. Oh, God, it's started. We're dead. Dead men walking."

"No, no," Sheppard said. "I think…I think there's people in those buildings up ahead." He stopped to think, going back over all the things he'd learned about the Ancients. "They could do telepathy, right?"

"Who could?" Teyla was sliding a confused look at him, and a worried one at Rodney. "What did you see?"

Sheppard's headache throbbed. That was new and unpleasant. "When I stepped forward, I wasn't here; I was there – standing in a street, buildings all around me. And there were people talking." His eyebrows scrunched. "They were trying to say something, but I couldn't understand. Then, I got this headache, and a voice said for us to go home, some kind of vague "it's not safe" warning."

"Maybe McKay's right." Ronon shook off another worm. "I don't like this."

Aborting the mission was Sheppard's decision, and it was one he hated to make, but the facts were pretty grim. Worm-infested planet. Ineffective scanning equipment because of atmospheric conditions. Definite life-signs, but it could be anything from the multitude of worms to a human being, maybe an Ancient. There were buildings up ahead. Jumpers were inoperable due to planetary conditions. They had been exposed to an unknown substance from the insect life. And he'd definitely just experienced something unusual, though he wasn't prepared to label it "hallucination" yet.

He came to a decision and turned back toward the 'gate. "I'm calling it off. Let's get back. We'll have Carson run some tests on these bugs and see if it's nothing, and reschedule if it's safe."

It was then that Rodney said, "Oh, no."

Sheppard quickly saw why. Behind them, a wall had appeared out of nowhere. It looked like it'd been built out of obsidian, running horizontally as far as he could see, blocking their retreat. "This sucks."

"I think whoever lives in the buildings does not wish us to leave," Teyla guessed.

"Your scanner show anything?" Sheppard glanced at the display.

Rodney shook his head, frustrated. "Nothing. According to this, there's nothing there. But it also says that this," he plucked another worm off Sheppard's leg and held it up, "has the same biosignature as you."

"Want me to shoot it? That'll tell us if it's real or not." The whirring noise of Ronon's pistol charging up filled the air.

"It's not real! Just as the city is not. Leave, before it is too late!"

Sheppard flinched. "Did you hear that?"

Surprised expressions registered on the others. "Who said that?" Rodney looked around. "Someone just told us --"

"That it is not real," finished Teyla, puzzled.

"We are the Kree'ni'ni. It took us too long to establish high enough levels of m'ris in your bodies so that we could communicate. They know of your existence. Time is of the essence; leave, before they arrive."

Ronon spun around, looking for something he could attack. "Who are you?"

"We are all around you."

Rodney's jaw gaped. "You're worms?"

"No, Rodney McKay. We have a symbiotic relationship with the ra-m'ris. The substance they've secreted is absorbed by your body, and enables us to communicate. We exist on a frequency you cannot see."

Sheppard fought against the creepy-crawly sensation burning under his skin. God, he fucking hated bugs. "So, who's coming for us?"

His team had their weapons ready, but they didn't see anything except a big wall that "wasn't really there" and the skyline of the city they'd almost reached.

"They are the Lost. Energy beings. They like to play with travelers who come to our world. My kind tries to warn away those that we can, but you wait too long!"

Images of people fallen in the grass punched into Sheppard. The fallen people had what looked like shadow shapes crouched down next to them.

Agony burned through his skull.

"Aaahhh, damn it!"

When Sheppard could see again, he found Rodney on the ground beside him. Ronon was partially upright, leaning heavily on his arms. Teyla was lying next to Ronon, a thin trickle of blood dripping from her nose.

"You must go!"

"What are you doing to us?" Sheppard's head pounded to the beat of a different drummer. The one that screamed "die, die, die!" He tried to roll enough to check on Rodney, but found himself quickly shifting his target to an open area above in an attempt to avoid throwing up on McKay. He spent precious seconds heaving and trying to regain control over his mutinous guts.

"It's the m'ris; we're sorry, in high doses it makes your kind sick. But you were not hearing us before! We had to keep giving you more and more in an attempt to save your lives."

"We're dead, Jim," groaned Rodney.

"Not yet, we're not." Sheppard took a page out of Ronon's "snarl for energy" book and shouted himself to his knees, panting from the sheer effort. By the time he had his feet flat on the ground and his head where it was supposed to be, Ronon had helped Teyla stand. Together, they helped Rodney.

His team was swaying precariously.

"Let's go," Sheppard gasped.

It wasn't fast, and it wasn't pretty, but they latched on to one another, and the four of them stumbled and staggered forward. No one mentioned that they'd been walking for almost two hours just to get to their current location. The trip back to the 'gate, sick as they were from that worm substance, was going to be even longer.

Rodney's nose had started to bleed by the time they got to the fake wall. Despite the fact that their eyes told them it really was there, they walked right through it. Sheppard figured this might be a little hard to explain to Elizabeth when they made it back. He'd written some pretty bizarre mission reports, but somehow he knew this one was going to go down in the record books.

Beat that, SG-1!

"Sheppard," Rodney croaked.

"What?"

"You're bleeding," Rodney said, motioning at his own nose. He let go of Ronon and Teyla, and collapsed slowly to the ground. "And I'm gonna be sick." Then he hunched and started throwing up his powerbar lunch and breakfast.

"They are almost here, John Sheppard! You must rise, and run, or it will be too late!"

Sheppard was beginning to hate telepathic higher frequency beings. All they did was nag, nag, nag. "We're trying," he gritted. "Can you give us a little help here? Preferably the kind that doesn't make us throw up and bleed?"

"We can try to confuse them with false images, but be warned, you will see them as well."

"Does it matter?" Rodney had stopped retching finally and was looking up at the sky. "If you don't do it, they get us and we die. Stop being stupid and help!"

Teyla leaned over Rodney, wiped at her still-bleeding nose, and jerked him roughly to his feet. "Do not insult the beings trying to save our lives," she hissed.

"They're doing a terrible job – this is me, this is what I do, I berate people that screw up."

Ronon shrugged Rodney's arm over his shoulder and said, "Maybe you should wait on that."

Rodney sucked air through his teeth, "Right, because we wouldn't want them to make our brains explode and leak out our nose! Oh, wait, they DID! Remind me again why I'm supposed to be nice?"

"McKay," Sheppard warned.

"Because, seriously, who needs enemies when you've got friends like this. We were perfectly healthy before their legion of slugs peed on us!"

"We had them leave you alone after we established communication, and Rodney McKay, our "legion of slugs" is the only thing standing between you and certain death. We suggest you run. Now."

Ouch. Now the invisible people were pissed. Still, they said run and Sheppard guessed they should run. His nose was bleeding; nothing seemed to stop it. His stomach felt like he'd been trapped on a dinghy in a hurricane, but the images of those people surrounded by shadows scared the heck out of him. They held onto one another and ran. It was ugly, and sometimes it wasn't even technically running anymore, but they didn't stop. Ronon gagged and bled and kept pulling them along.

Sheppard glanced behind and almost tripped. A sea of white worms was directly behind them, and directly overhead were the shadows. Ten, twenty maybe. "Holy crap," he breathed. They were feeding on the worms.

"We are not paid near enough," McKay shouted.

That's when the purple cows and flying fish appeared.

There are a lot of things that someone might be saying round about now, Sheppard figured. That maybe this was some kind of psychedelic dream, and they wanted off the fruit-wagon train, but Sheppard knew this had become the story of his life. This was too crazy not to be really happening. "You had to mention cows and fish earlier," he snarled at Rodney.

They were breathing so hard that the sounds of four sets of overworking lungs almost drowned the soft screeches coming from the things behind them. Teyla tripped and they all went down like a domino train, rolling.

A tendril of cold caressed Sheppard's ankle. "Up, get up!" he shouted, panicked.

They did, pulling and hauling each other in one massive jumble of desperate bodies.

"Run!"

They kept running.

By the time they collapsed at the DHD, their shirts were soaked with blood; their faces looked like pictures taken out of a horror movie, streaked, and dried, and fresh blood seeping over their lips and chins. Another line of worms had surged behind them, giving them enough time for Rodney to dial Atlantis and send the IDC.

"We are relieved. Go, and do not come back."

"We can do that," Sheppard promised, feeling like a Night of the Living Dead survivor. And before he let Ronon haul him in after Teyla and Rodney, he snatched a worm for Carson.

OoO

"They're radioactive?" Rodney spluttered. "Of course, why didn't I think of that? It wasn't bad enough that their pee was psychotropic, it had to be radioactive, too?"

Sheppard stared at the ceiling. At the IV. At his blanket. Then Rodney, and Teyla and Ronon. When Carson cleared his throat, he finally decided he couldn't avoid it forever. "Doc, you really don't want to know."

"Aye, I do, Colonel." Carson had his data pad tucked against his side and was sitting between Rodney and Sheppard. "I've got you all on a cocktail of pentetate calcium trisodium and filgrastim. The exposure was acute, but fortunately, not prolonged. You'll be sick for a few days while your bodies recover and, I won't lie, you'll need long-term monitoring for delayed effects. But we've had this discussion before, haven't we? Now, what exactly did you hallucinate that has Ronon so upset?"

This had been a long and embarrassing afternoon. After they'd collapsed in the gateroom, they found themselves stuck in a quarantine field – thank you, Atlantis – because the city had detected radioactive residue on their bodies. After the medical teams responded, they were shoved into suits and then hauled to an isolation room where they were put through a decontamination procedure that would make a stripper blush.

Carson had gotten their nose bleeds stopped. He'd given them anti-nausea medication. Scrubs. Beds. Mostly, Sheppard wanted to kiss the guy. But they'd seen some weird visions on that final run to the 'gate and Ronon had been acting weird ever since, making Carson curious and he wouldn't let it go.

The invisible people had pulled things from their minds, and the purple cows and flying fish had just been the appetizer. There had been dancing Iratus bugs – that was probably his fault -- naked men – please let that have been yanked from Teyla – some women, guns, cocoons and lots and lots of Wraith.

Sheppard didn't know how or when it'd happened, but there was information in his brain that hadn't been there before, including an explanation for the hallucinations they'd experienced. The energy beings fed upon memories, and the invisible beings had littered the ground with breadcrumb trails in an attempt to lead them away from the actual banquet.

"I think I saw Carter," Sheppard finally said. He kind of smirked at Rodney. "She was wearing a bra."

Rodney looked completely unfazed. "As opposed to the man that dreams a dancing revue of bugs."

Carson cleared his throat. "So, Ronon, are you going to tell me, or do I have to keep milking these two for possible causes?"

"I'm not telling." Ronon flopped his head into a different position and closed his eyes.

When Carson looked to Teyla next for an answer, she pursed her lips and shook her head.

Rodney grinned crookedly. "We never kiss and tell, Carson. Next time, you'll just have to come with us."

Sensing defeat, and judging that his patients needed rest, Carson stood. "I can think of a thousand things I'd rather do than go on a mission with you lot. You're a danger to your own health. And I thought you might like to know, the worms were classified by entomology: RT-WP."

"RT-WP?" echoed Rodney.

"For Radioactive Telepathic Worm Piss." He smiled smugly. "I thought it had a rather catchy ring to it."

Sheppard winced. "We are never living this one down, are we?"

Carson walked to the wall and dimmed the lights. "Not for many, many days to come. Good night." He stepped a few more feet out the door before leaning in and, grinning cheekily at Sheppard, added, "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

V. Armageddon on a miniature scale.

From the moment they stepped through the wormhole, they smelled death. It mixed with smoke, and caused their eyes to water. Halfway to the town, they saw the first body. Ronon approached it carefully, nudging it with his boot until it rolled enough for them to see the scabbed lesions and ravaged skin.

Sheppard snapped, "Masks on!"

They'd been through the training. In the span of seconds, they got their head gear on.

"It might already be too late," Rodney said heavily.

"Think we should turn around?" Sheppard asked.

Teyla looked at the body. "There may be survivors in need of help."

"There might not be," Ronon countered.

Without really coming to a consensus, they moved forward, not backward. Every few yards they found another body. Two males, one female, and one kid that looked about seven, maybe six. Sheppard knelt beside the little body and looked for any sign of life. Not breathing, no pulse. Nothing. When he stood back up, Teyla caught his eye.

"Colonel – I am sure it was fast."

Normally, he would've appreciated her attempt at comfort, but right now he was too pissed. He wasn't the one that needed comforting. The kid lying alone and dead on the side of the road was.

"Let's go," he ordered.

He did his damnedest from then on to not look beyond a brief check: alive or dead.

Rodney got zero energy readings. He also got zero life signs, aside from theirs. They still kept checking, almost neurotically, but by the time they reached the outskirts of town they had only confirmed what the scanner reported. There, they found ashes that were still warm. Ronon kicked through the edges and found intact bones. "They tried to burn their dead."

"It did not help." Teyla's muffled voice shook.

They searched the town, looking for any clues as to what caused this. In a building that was filled with dead people lying in beds, Rodney found a notebook. He opened it and flipped through.

Sheppard leaned over his shoulder. "Can you read it?"

"No. It's not Ancient. I don't recognize this." When Teyla got near enough, he pushed it towards her. "Do you?"

She took the journal and nodded slowly. "Yes, I've seen this before. It's a version of my people's writing." She flipped to the front. "This is the personal journal of Diameede Mont, healer."

Sheppard scanned the room. There were signs that the people here had been cared for, at least for a short while. Everywhere he looked, medical paraphernalia littered the floor and the tables. Where were the people that had cared for these victims? He couldn't see anyone with a uniform, or anything that would separate them from the patients.

"Let's take it outside," he said finally. "There's nothing for us to do here."

They walked to the 'gate; no one talked.

Once there, Rodney dialed Atlantis and Sheppard explained they needed a hazmat team and Carson. After the wormhole shut down, they found a spot to sit and wait, and Teyla began to read:

Here follows the final entry to my journal, made on the 75th day of the 174th year:

We have been tricked. The trader offered us medicine, and promised it would protect us from the Wraith. The price was high, but Mora thought it worthwhile. The trader showed proof that we could not find fault with: a moving picture on a screen of a Wraith trying to feed on a man; the man was released, healthy. I do not understand how it is possible, and I did not trust that this trader was being honest, but my concerns were overruled. Mora said our eyes could not be deceived by what was in front of us.

To prove it was safe, the trader took a dose while we watched. He was unaffected. I am not sure if he switched vials without us knowing. My people began to die twelve hours after taking the "cure". First, it was the children. And the old, the few that we had left in our village. They cried and said their skin was on fire. Soon, lesions erupted, fat boils that burst and crusted, and before it dried, the victim was dead.

I soon learned the best I could give my people was peace, and ordered the other two healers that were training under me, to administer a heavy dose of sleep powder. It was mercy. For all of us. Watching the children cry, and suffer, it was too great to bear.

We are all soon to be dead. Only a few of us remain, and we are ill. We all took doses within a span of three hours, and I and my two apprentices were the last to receive it.

Whatever poison that trader gave us, it is too late to save ourselves. But it is not too late for other worlds. If any man or woman finds this account, I beg of you, please tell others. Spread this warning to as many worlds as possible. Do not trust any trader selling a cure against the Wraith. He swore it was not supposed to do this, that it had never caused this reaction before, but then he ran, and left us dying.

I sent my two healers to our closest neighboring worlds, but I am worried they will be killed on sight as their lesions are fully developed. This "cure" kills within one solar day; it is completely fatal. Perhaps if our population had been greater, one or more might have been immune, but we are only a small village; cullings have dropped our numbers to just under two hundred.

Please, if you read this, find the one who did this. The trader worked with machines we have never seen before. He said he was a survivor of a world destroyed by Wraith. He said they had been ruined because they were only one, and that if everyone became immune, the Wraith would lose. But he was wrong. We are the ones that lost. He said his name was Druhin. He must be stopped. Do whatever you can to prevent this from happening to anyone else.

It is too late for us.

"Hoff." Sheppard swallowed back bile. "Sonofabitch, that bastard survived, and now he's trying to poison the rest of the galaxy. It wasn't good enough that he killed half his people."

"It must have been a difference in biology, or maybe it mutated." Rodney stared, horrified, at Sheppard. "It only had a fifty-percent mortality rate before; people died, but not all of them. And not like…like this."

"Carson would've known; if we had arrived sooner, he could have run tests, discovered it wasn't safe and prevented this." Teyla shut the journal, shut her eyes, and thought back to the Hoffans: the ones they'd cared for on their deathbed, and the ones they had not. She remembered when they had left. John had told Druhin they would not stay and help, because the Hoffans were going to continue with the inoculations, despite the high mortality rate and the likelihood that the Wraith would still kill them. Druhin had believed the Wraith would be content to leave them alone, but John had known better. When a fruit goes bad in your basket, you do not leave it to spoil the rest.

Ronon didn't say anything at all; he hadn't been there.

The hazmat team arrived moments later. Carson took his samples and listened stonily as Sheppard explained what they'd found.

"Is there any way to stop him?" Carson asked when he'd finished recounting the events in the journal.

"We can spread the word; probably dedicate a team for a week or two. But it's a big galaxy." He stared at Carson for a minute. "You gonna be okay?"

"No," Carson said, savagely snapping his case shut.

"Doc --"

"We should gather the dead; burn the rest, just in case."

Sheppard paused. He felt at least partially responsible. He'd been the one to volunteer Carson's help.

Teyla touched his arm lightly and inclined her head toward the side of the road where Rodney and Ronon assembled stretchers to haul the dead from the road to the town. "John --"

"Yeah," he said. "If you need anything --"

"You will be here; I know." She smiled wistfully.

Sheppard left, glancing back once to see her murmuring softly to Carson. She'd try to make him believe this wasn't his fault. No one had forced these people to accept what Druhin offered. Problem was, when the choice was possible death over certain death, free will becomes a fine line.

Their bloodwork came back clean. The virus was only transmitted via direct exposure to the bloodstream. "But to be safe," Carson said, "You'll be spending the next 72 hours in isolation."

An hour later, they set fire to the buildings.

As they walked down the dusty road to the 'gate, angry orange and red fingers of fire reached to the sky behind them. A village and its people, consumed to ashes, and destroyed by their hope and another's stupidity. When the event horizon settled, they stepped into the wormhole and headed home.