Genetic Drift
Red.
Each vial contained a red liquid, differing shades of crimson and scarlet. All lined up in a row, trapped in a plastic container. All labeled but the handwriting was unreadable, a borderline scrawl that was purported to be letters forming words.
John Sheppard couldn't tell. He dropped his gaze from the row of red to the pile of papers on the table. Fiddled with the many sheets, scooted them this way and that. Straightened them. Glanced up to see the row of empty beds. Smiled impatiently as Radek Zelenka left, a splint wrapped around his index finger.
"Do you need something, colonel?" Carson Beckett asked, his Scottish brogue stronger as his weariness revealed itself. He eyed the other man.
"Uh, no, no. I'm fine," John replied, almost shyly. He walked along the beds, pausing to push a cart of the way. Lingering to glance at a data screen. Its rectangular cursor blinking, blinking. Waiting for the input of information. He studied a microscope, peered into the lens but there was nothing on the slide to view. All the while heading for the doctor who was seated at a table, perusing another screen. John paused nearer, fingers tapping the table.
Carson looked at him. "Yes? What do you want, John? Or have you taken a sudden interest in the practice of medicine?"
John smiled, shrugged. "I need to ask you something."
"Yes?" Carson encouraged. Waited. At John's silence he snapped, "Spit it out, man! I do have work to do today, unlike you."
"I..." Uncharacteristically hesitant John glanced round the nearly empty infirmary. Looked back at Carson and his inquisitive, impatient stare. "I need to know what this is. A design. A set of interlocking symbols." His hands waved in the air. He grabbed a piece of paper, a pen, drew squiggly lines. "Like this. Interlocking circles with these knotted squares." He shoved the paper at Carson, dropped the pen on the table.
Carson sighed, shaking his head. Picked up the crude sketch. "What am I, a bloody archaeologist now? These symbols...where did you see them?"
"On a bracelet," John quietly answered.
Carson smiled. "Oh. Aye. I see. These would be Celtic knots, then." He scribbled a more accurate drawing on the paper. "More like this, I take it?"
John briefly glanced at it. "Yes," he agreed. "I knew it was Irish, or Scottish, the same–"
"Not the same," Carson corrected. Amused at John's uncomfortable stance. At the way he was looking round at everything. Avoiding the doctor's gaze. "Similar, but not the same. Celtic knots, then entwined circles. Celtic art is full of intricate patterns. I take it this is for Moira."
John shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling oddly like a teenager on his first date. "Um, yeah. I had to use hers to jerry-rig a radio to an Ancient bio-scanner. It's a long story. Anyway...the thing is...where can I get a bracelet like that?"
Carson's smile grew. "Well, colonel, there are not many fine jewelry stores in the Pegasus galaxy, you know."
"Yeah, that's what she said. And hers was pure silver. It worked great as a conductor between the two–"
"And now you want to replace it. For this," Carson tapped the paper, "you'd have to go to Earth, I'm afraid."
John sighed. "I figured that, doc, but where?" he asked, irritated by Carson's evident enjoyment.
"Ireland?"
"Possibly. Or a specialty store could order you one. Use your resources, colonel. Rank does have its privileges, doesn't it?"
John sighed again, scowled as he met the doctor's gaze. "Thanks, doc."
"Oh, and don't worry, John. Mums the word," Carson teased with a grin. Blue eyes sparkling.
John was about to say something very caustic and rude when the comm unit blared to life. "Off world activation! Major Lorne's team, as scheduled."
"Ah, there you are, John, the–" Carson began to tease.
John shook his head. "Not a word, doc. Gotta go." He grabbed the piece of paper, crumpled it, shoved it into his jacket's pocket.
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The wormhole disgorged Evan Lorne and his team. Of which two were in the midst of an argument. John joined Elizabeth Weir as she entered the 'Gate room. Exchanged a glance at the increasingly raised voices.
"Herbivores, you said! Herbivores my ass!" Evan exclaimed. "Did you see the teeth on those things? They attacked–"
"They did not!" Moira O'Meara argued just as irritably. "You had to go spook them with your damn gun and nearly got us all killed!"
"They were mutated cattle and–"
"They were not! I told you! Genetic drift! A random change in the genetic diversity of a population. When only a few individuals from a large population migrate into a new area or when a part of a population evolves distinctly differing adaptations to enviromental–"
"Blah, blah, blah! Enough with the long-winded scientific jargon! Those things could have killed us if not for my–"
"I told you they were a remnant subspecies of Peorovis oldowayensis, domesticated and probably interbred with–"
"Oh, here we go with the Latin babble and hourly recitation of all things Darwin! I don't care about the creatures and their evolutionary history, O'Meara! Just how to kill them before they killed us!"
"If you did care, Lorne, you would have known you didn't need to kill any of them!"
"Whoa, whoa," John finally was able to interrupt, after exchanging an amused glance with Elizabeth. "What happened on P1348X, major?"
"Not much, sir," Evan answered, exchanging a glare with Moira. "It's a pretty useless world. No technology, no ZPMs, no Ancient structures. Just a village and nice people and horribly mutated cows."
"They weren't mutated cows! And by all means don't mention the vast fields of crops and the corn that could have fed us instead of–"
"Corn? All right, major, give me a full report. These villagers had corn?" John asked, gaze moving from Moira to Evan.
"Yes, sir. An actual cornfield."
"It was an agricultural backwater world," Thomas Kavanaugh added, exchanging a puzzled glance with Aaron Josephes.
"The people were nice, though. Friendly," Aaron added.
"Until trigger-happy here decided to kill a few of their livestock," Moira stated, glared at Evan again. Looked at John suddenly. Smiled. "Hi John."
Evan glared at her. "Next time I'll just let the mutated cattle run you over, shall I? Better than spending an hour on the evolutionary history of a mouse! A mouse, for God's sake! You held up the entire mission to expostulate on a damn rodent!"
"Fine! Next time why don't you just shoot it too! While you're at it just shoot everything that moves, won't you? God forbid we stop for five seconds to discover an anomaly or a new species!"
"Who cares if you found a new rodent? It's a waste of time, O'Meara! Like everything else you do!"
"And I know how you hate wasting time, Lorne! March, march, march like a good little soldier boy!"
"Enough!" Elizabeth shook her head, staring at them. "What happened on P1348X?" she echoed John's question. "No, you tell me, lieutenant," she forestalled them, raising her hand.
"Nothing, ma'am, sir," Aaron replied. "It was a typical meet and greet. The 'Gate is on a hill, lots of rolling meadows. We went three klicks to the village, met the–"
"We would have been there sooner but we were unnecessarily delayed by 'ooh, there's a mouse'" Evan mocked Moira's voice.
"Shut up! At least I didn't march into the village like I was going to take it over!" Moira replied.
"Stop it! What the hell is going on here?" John demanded, amusement replaced by concern. "Josephes, were they like this before?"
"No, sir. Not until we got back." The lieutenant shrugged.
"I'm sending all four of you to medical. Go!" Elizabeth ordered.
**************************************************************************
"All right, take me through it, major. From the beginning," John ordered. His arms were folded across his chest as he stood before Evan. The other man was seated on an infirmary bed, arm extended as Carson drew some blood.
"It was just like Josephes said, sir. Rolling hills. Meadows. Three klicks to the village. The buildings were of stone, with a center section like a city center. A gathering place, no doubt," Evan explained calmly. He bent his arm, holding the bandage over it as Carson moved aside.
"The villagers were friendly. Interested in trade. The head man gave us a welcome feast, then we headed–"
"A welcome feast? Explain," John said, sensing a likely culprit.
"Bland food, fruits, a honeyed mead that was sweet. O'Meara poured it down like an alcoholic lush and–"
"I need a drink to put up with your mind-numbing banter. What a nice village, what nice crops, ooh look at their big shiny knives," Moira mocked from a few beds away from his.
"Moira," John cautioned, glanced at her. "Continue, major."
"They took us on a tour. Of the fields full of crops. Even corn, sir. An actual cornfield, but no, we didn't go into the cornfield. I've seen those movies," he jested. Did not see even a glimmer of answering amusement in John's gaze. "Anyway, then the herds of sheep and those mutated cattle, then they attacked us."
"They were not mutated and they did not attack us!" Moira argued. "They were a unique breed. The villagers were very proud of them until soldier boy here decided to shoot a few for fun."
"Believe me, I regret it now, if only to have let it trample you to shut up your pointless Latin rambling and–"
"Major!" John reprimanded. "Next!" He noted the odd discrepancy. How Evan seemed normal except when he spoke about or to Moira.
"Sir? After we saved the head man and killed a few of those mutated cattle we returned here."
"After you killed the head man's prize bull we returned here," Moira corrected, as Carson took some blood. "Ow!"
"Sorry, Moira, it's just a wee poke, a wee prick to get a sample," Carson assured, filling the vial.
"A wee poke is about all she'll ever get," Evan snarled.
"You would know about a wee prick," Moira agreed.
"Enough! What the..." John shook his head. "So after the cows you just returned here. That's it? That's all?"
"Yes, sir. Why all the questions? It was a completely routine mission. Except for putting up with gimpy there," he gestured back to Moira.
"That's enough, major," John warned, losing patience. "Are you done with your tests, Carson?"
"Yes. I need to analyze this," Carson eyed them. "You two report back to me in one hour."
"You heard the doc. Dismissed, for now," John ordered.
"Yes, sir." Evan stood, turned to leave. Glared at Moira who glared back. "Happy now? You have managed to complicate a simple mission with your stupid analysis and ridiculous observations. I wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't tell a cow from a sheep...or a damn mouse," he taunted.
"I can tell the difference between an idiot and you...oh wait...they're the same," she retorted.
"Why the hell are you even on my team, O'Meara? Who needs a useless piece of baggage like you? A limping cryptozoologist with absolutely nothing to contribute."
"Go to hell, Lorne!" she spat. He advanced towards her, but was hauled back by a firm hand on his shoulder.
"What the hell is going on here, major?" John demanded. "I want an explanation. Now!"
"What, sir?" Evan asked, genuinely puzzled.
"What? You don't find it odd how you are talking to Moira, and she to you?" John tested.
"No, sir. Why is it odd? Can I go now, sir? I can't stand the stench in the room," Evan's narrowed gaze hit her again.
She frowned at him. "I can't stand the stupidity."
"Go!" John all but shoved him away from Moira. He turned to Carson. "Carson, we need those results now!"
"I know, I know! First let me get Josephes and Kavanaugh, then we can run a comparison."
"Moira," John said, taking her arm as she stood. "With me. Now."
"Where are we going, John?" she asked as he led her out of the infirmary. "John? Slow down, please!"
He slowed his steps, glancing back to see her limping gait. "Sorry, Moira. Here. We need to talk."
She smiled, running her hand up his back as he opened the door to her room. "Talk? I thought you didn't like talking, John." Suggestions glimmered in her brown eyes as he turned to her. She closed the door behind her.
"About the mission. About Lorne," he clarified.
She frowned, dumped her pack on the floor. "What? How he charges in like he's the next military genius? How he forces us to keep in line? God forbid we take a mere second to find something new, to investigate a possible discovery, oh no, march in line, keep the pace. He doesn't want to hear anything remotely interesting or scientific. Not like you, John. He only cares about weapons and ZPMs, nothing else. Either new intel on the Wraith or on the Ancients, nothing else matters."
"Now I am worried. That's how you describe me, not Lorne." He touched her arm, drew her closer. "Moira, what happened on that planet? You can tell me. It's just the two of us now." He scanned her face, her body, saw no obvious signs of injury.
She smiled, ran her hands up his chest, fingers skimming along the snug black t-shirt. She stepped closer to kiss him. "John...how much time do we have? Hmm?"
He smiled, but caught her wrists, stopping her. "I'm serious, Moira. What happened?"
"John, you are, aren't you?"
"I'm what?" he asked, thrown by the question.
She considered, smiled. "You have no reason to be jealous," she soothed, kissing him again. A slow, languid motion on her mouth on his. Inviting. "None at all," she insisted.
"I'm not jealous," he said. At least not now he silently added. Now that they were seeing each other. "Moira?"
"Nothing happened, John," she assured. "I only want you," she insisted, kissing him. "I would never want Lorne. The very thought makes me ill. I can't stand that self-righteous, narrow-minded pillock of a–"
"Moira? What happened?" John persisted. "You are friends with–"
"Friends?" She laughed. "With him? Never! I detest him, John. Now..." She kissed him again, sliding her body along his, "where were we?"
He disengaged himself reluctantly. "Stay here until you report back to Beckett. All right?"
She sighed. "All right. If that's what you want, John."
"It is." He eyed her, bewildered. "We need to get this straightened out first."
*************************************************************************
Carson sighed. Shook his head. "I've run every test I can think of, and even some that I made up on the spot. There's nothing there. Except for a trace amount of an inhibitor in Josephes and Kavanaugh. I found an injection spot on their necks, so I'll check Moira and Evan to be certain."
"So the ones who are acting normal have a trace amount of what?" John asked.
"An inhibitor. It blocks the memory centers of the brain. Only a trace amount, though. Harmless."
"So whatever happened won't be recalled by Josephes or Kavanaugh," Elizabeth reasoned.
"Right."
"And the ones who are acting strangely show nothing foreign in their systems? Nothing at all?" John inquired.
"Aye. Not even a trace amount of anything. I can't explain their behavior, Elizabeth. It's got me completely baffled," the doctor admitted.
"It's not the enzyme, is it?" John asked, recalling Moira's earlier amorous mood. But it wasn't unusual or out of character. Although the jealousy question had thrown him.
"No. I triple-checked," Carson assured. Shrugged.
"This may sound crazy, but could it be nothing? I mean, could Moira and Evan just have had a massive disagreement and now are angry at each other?" Elizabeth suggested.
Carson shrugged again. "Perhaps. But those two are friends. They have always gotten along fine. When they did have a disagreement it was always amicable. Not like this."
"They aren't acting like themselves...but only towards each other. Towards other people they are normal," John noted. Frowned.
"Well, let me check them for an injection spot. Maybe we'll learn more. I'll also run a full body scan. But my initial readings did not indicate any foreign objects."
John sighed. "Well, if it's not something they ingested, or something implanted in them then what?" He looked at Elizabeth. "I'm going to prep my team. We'll go to that planet and get samples of this welcome feast and the water. And whatever else may help."
"All right, but be careful," Elizabeth cautioned. "We don't know what happened yet."
"I'd better go with you, colonel. It would be more expedient for me to test any samples on site."
"No, Carson. I need you here to monitor Moira. And Lorne," he suddenly added. "I'll get my team prepped. We'll back in one hour, or less."
***************************************************************************
Moira stalked into the infirmary. "Carson! I'm reporting as ordered," she informed him evenly. She sat on a bed, waited. "Oh. Doctor Weir."
Elizabeth smiled. "I just wanted to talk to you. After the tests."
"Hey, doc, I'm here for your..." Evan stopped in mid-stride, mid-sentence. "What is she doing here?"
"Does he have to be here?" Moira rejoined, nearly at the same time.
Carson and Elizabeth exchanged a glance. "Yes," the doctor answered. "Sit there, major." He approached. "I need to look for an injection spot."
"Injection? I wasn't injected with anything," Evan argued as Carson turned his head this way and that, examining Evan's neck.
"Carson's just trying to find your brain. It's a marvel you can walk and talk without one," Moira insulted.
"Put a gag in her mouth, will you, doc? It's the only way to shut her up."
"At least I have something to say, unlike robot boy."
"Damn crypto always chasing after phantoms and never obeying your commanding officer."
"Don't worry, you'll get your report, all filled out and properly spelled with no typos."
"Good. It will put me to sleep tonight."
"Will the pair of you be quiet!" Carson snapped. He stepped back. "No marks. There's nothing."
"Of course there's nothing, Carson, he's a mindless robotic soldier who can't even conceive of anything beyond his simplistic–"
"God, will you shut up?" Evan yelled, whirling to face her. "All day I have to put up with your constant whining and pseudo-scientific jargon when you are no more than a glorified veterinarian who can't even tell when a cow's mutated!"
"Fuck you, Lorne!" she snapped.
"Not even in my worst nightmares would I ever want to fu–"
"Stop this now!" Both looked at Elizabeth's outraged, bewildered gaze. The shock.
"Sorry, ma'am," Evan apologized. "I just can't stand that constant, irritating voice. Can you order her to stop talking?"
"You make me stop talking, if you can, you cowardly piece of–"
"Moira, please!" Carson moved to her, lead her to the other side of the room. "Wait here until I've finished with Major Lorne, all right?"
"Of course, Carson. I'm sorry...I just can't stand being near him. It's hell being on his team."
"It's hell having you on my team," he rejoined.
***************************************************************************
Carson scratched his head, closed the data screen. Frustrated he strode out of the infirmary. He headed for Elizabeth's office, knocked briskly and stepped inside. He sat in an empty chair as she looked up from her computer. Shook his head.
"What? Nothing?" Elizabeth asked, surprised.
"Nothing. I've sent them apart to fill out their reports. Far from each other. I haven't found a bloody thing, Elizabeth," he began. "Every test is clean! Every scan is clean! What the hell happened to them? They were the best of friends! Now their animosity seems to grow stronger with each hour! I don't understand it!"
Elizabeth frowned. "It doesn't make sense, Carson. You've found nothing but something obviously changed them. But the animosity is only towards each other, not anyone else. How can you explain that?" She paused, leaned forward in her chair, arms folded on the table. "I know they were friends. But were they ever...you know? I mean...were they seeing each other?"
"Romantically? No. I mean," Carson amended his emphatic statement, "I don't think so. Not like that. Just friends."
"Are you sure? That could explain the antagonism. You sound very certain."
"Aye," Carson agreed, relenting. "I know for a fact that there is nothing like that between them."
Elizabeth smiled, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Really? May I ask how you know, Carson? For certain?"
"You may, but you'll have to take my word. It's not my place to tattle," he rejoined, oddly protective of the pair, of John and Moira. He stood. "Maybe something will turn up in the samples Colonel Sheppard's team brings back."
"I hope so," she concurred. "If not there may be nothing we can do for them."