The gate flared and opened, and the iris closed.
"Off-world activation! Repeat! Off-world activation!"
Hammond hurried into the command center as the security teams scurried into positions, their weapons raised and ready, their faces tense as they always were until they knew who or what they were dealing with.
"It's SG-1, Sir." Davis told Hammond.
"What? Already?" Something was wrong, Hammond knew, or they wouldn't be back so soon. "Open the iris," He told the Sergeant, and then he hit the intercom system. "Medical team to the embarkation room."
Hammond headed for the embarkation room as well.
The iris was open, now, and the security team and the General watched as a form appeared, tripped and went down, tumbling the length of the ramp noisily to end up sprawled at Hammond's feet. He knelt down just as another form appeared, and this one, too, tripped – or just plain fell – and tumbled as well, although she managed to catch herself before she rolled all the way to the bottom of the ramp. Both of them scrambled to their feet, breathing heavily, sweating profusely, and looking extremely agitated.
"Major Anderson? Major Carter?" Hammond asked, confused, as the gate disengaged. "Where's the rest of your teams?"
"We ran into trouble, Sir," Carter gasped, holding her side and trying to catch her breath. Anderson was in even worse shape, clutching his stomach so tightly that Hammond thought he must be injured. "Colonel Mitchell's been hit with some kind of poisoned dart-"
"What about you two?" Hammond interrupted, pulling Anderson's arm away from his side, expecting to see blood, but not seeing anything. He could feel heat radiating from the younger man, though, and decided he'd been running. But ho far?
"We're fine, Sir," Carter was still trying to catch her breath. The two hadn't stopped running the moment the gate had appeared on the horizon in front of them, and the last leg had been a sprint that had taken everything they had left out of them. Sam's legs were trembling so badly she was amazed she hadn't fallen again. "We need-"
She was interrupted again by the arrival of Fraiser and a medical team, complete with a gurney. The Doctor sent one of her subordinates up the ramp to check Sam while she stopped at General Hammond, and opened Anderson's shirt, expecting to see blood considering the way the man was clutching his side. There was no blood, though, as Hammond had already discovered.
"We have to get help to them," Anderson gasped.
"Mitchell's been poisoned?" Hammond asked, catching the words that Carter had said before he'd interrupted her. "Where is she?"
"They're carrying her. We ran ahead with the darts to get the antidote. They're at least two days away on foot, and probably a lot more."
Anderson slipped off his pack – his shirt was soaked with sweat and sticking to his skin – and dropped to the floor of the embarkation room to open the bag. Digging through it with hands that were shaking almost as badly as his legs were, the Major found the towel wrapped baggie and handed it to Fraiser.
"You have to be careful." He warned her. "Colonel Mitchell wouldn't even let us touch them."
Fraiser unwrapped the towel and saw the two wicked looking little darts. One was clean and menacing, the other was covered with drying blood – that hadn't dried completely because of the airtight baggie it was in – and had little pieces of flesh sticking to it. This was obviously the culprit.
"I'll analyze it and see what we're dealing with," Fraiser told Hammond and the others. She looked at Anderson, who was still on his knees, and at Carter, who looked ready to sink to hers at any minute. "Get them cooled off, re-hydrated, and into bed."
"No!" Anderson came to his shaky feet, almost fell and grabbed at Hammond to keep from doing so. "We have to get back. I have to be there."
"You need a chance to rest, son," Hammond told him, understanding completely. He was Mitchell's Second in Command and as such, knew his place was with the Colonel. However, they were going to need him to show the rescue team where to go, and they'd need him in one piece for that. "Doctor Fraiser's going to need a while to get the poison analyzed, and you'll use that time to get your strength back. Then, when she's got the antidote, you and Major Carter can lead the rescue team to go get the others."
Anderson nodded, and released Hammond's shirt with an apologetic look. Hammond smiled, reassuringly, and put his hand on his shoulder. Hotheads, all of his kids were hotheads. And he liked that about them, most of the time. "Major Carter, Major Anderson, you two go with the medics and do whatever they tell you. We'll get the rescue team put together."
"Yes, Sir."
Anderson nodded again, and the two followed Fraiser's medics out of the room. Hammond watched, then looked up at Davis, who had watched it all through the bullet-proof glass of the command center.
"Get me SG-9, and SG-14 in the briefing room in ten minutes, Sergeant."
"Yes, Sir."
~*~
Jack's voice woke her from a cruel dream, and she felt something wet placed against her lips.
"Melony?"
"Mike?" Her open mouth was suddenly filled with wetness, and she realized it was cold coffee they were trying to get her to drink. The wetness felt wonderful to her parched lips and tongue, and the flavor was something she'd never been able to say no to. She took a painful swallow, the muscles of her throat seizing temporarily, then giving way and doing what she wanted.
"It's Jack, Melony." His voice sounded so worried that she had to open her eyes. And she did. And saw that someone was standing between her and the sun to shade her from the direct rays. That was nice of them, she decided idly.
"Jack?" She moved her head, and winced. She hurt everywhere. There was an overall feeling of unwellness, but her entire body ached, as well, and her heartbeat was the rhythm of the pain.
"Yeah." He held the canteen against her lips once more and she took another sip of the cold coffee gratefully.
"Where's Brad?"
"He's coming, Melony. Just hang in there, okay?" Jack sounded tired, and scared, and as if he were trying to hide both.
"I'm fine, Jack."
She closed her eyes, needing to rest them. They ached, too, and trying to focus on him hadn't made them feel any better.
"Stay with me, Melony."
"I am... stop nagging."
She felt a cool cloth on her forehead, and turned her head towards it when it was pulled along her left cheek. That felt wonderful. Almost as good as the coffee.
"We're just going to take a quick break," Jack told her. "Are you hungry? Can you eat for me?"
Ugh. "No." The last thing she wanted was something in her stomach. She already felt sick.
"More coffee?"
"No..." She sighed. "More towel..."
~*~
Jack smiled, slightly, and watched as Daniel ran the wet towel along Mitchell's flushed face. The coffee was a brilliant idea, and one he should have thought of. They'd been trying to get water into her all morning, but every time they thought they'd managed to get some into her, she'd throw it up – even though there wasn't anything left in her stomach to come with it. He'd held her as she retched, and clung to her tightly, trying to get her to wake up and talk to him, but this was the first time all morning that she'd been lucid enough to do more than mutter incoherently. Usually asking for her brother, or Jack, or Brad Anderson, but not acknowledging Jack when he responded to her. At least she seemed to be holding the coffee down. Apparently, she was still bound by her favorite rule: good coffee was not to be wasted.
"We'll grab a bite to eat and then get going," Jack said to Teal'c as Daniel opened the bottom buttons of Mitchell's shirt and ran the towel along her belly and sides, as well. She was so fevered that Daniel was determined to cool her off as much as possible, barring stripping her down and pouring water all over her. Mitchell sighed, again, but didn't say anything, although the pained crease of her forehead seemed to ease a little, which gave Jack a little hope. He wondered how far ahead of them Carter and Anderson were.
"Off-world activation! Repeat! Off-world activation!"
Hammond hurried into the command center as the security teams scurried into positions, their weapons raised and ready, their faces tense as they always were until they knew who or what they were dealing with.
"It's SG-1, Sir." Davis told Hammond.
"What? Already?" Something was wrong, Hammond knew, or they wouldn't be back so soon. "Open the iris," He told the Sergeant, and then he hit the intercom system. "Medical team to the embarkation room."
Hammond headed for the embarkation room as well.
The iris was open, now, and the security team and the General watched as a form appeared, tripped and went down, tumbling the length of the ramp noisily to end up sprawled at Hammond's feet. He knelt down just as another form appeared, and this one, too, tripped – or just plain fell – and tumbled as well, although she managed to catch herself before she rolled all the way to the bottom of the ramp. Both of them scrambled to their feet, breathing heavily, sweating profusely, and looking extremely agitated.
"Major Anderson? Major Carter?" Hammond asked, confused, as the gate disengaged. "Where's the rest of your teams?"
"We ran into trouble, Sir," Carter gasped, holding her side and trying to catch her breath. Anderson was in even worse shape, clutching his stomach so tightly that Hammond thought he must be injured. "Colonel Mitchell's been hit with some kind of poisoned dart-"
"What about you two?" Hammond interrupted, pulling Anderson's arm away from his side, expecting to see blood, but not seeing anything. He could feel heat radiating from the younger man, though, and decided he'd been running. But ho far?
"We're fine, Sir," Carter was still trying to catch her breath. The two hadn't stopped running the moment the gate had appeared on the horizon in front of them, and the last leg had been a sprint that had taken everything they had left out of them. Sam's legs were trembling so badly she was amazed she hadn't fallen again. "We need-"
She was interrupted again by the arrival of Fraiser and a medical team, complete with a gurney. The Doctor sent one of her subordinates up the ramp to check Sam while she stopped at General Hammond, and opened Anderson's shirt, expecting to see blood considering the way the man was clutching his side. There was no blood, though, as Hammond had already discovered.
"We have to get help to them," Anderson gasped.
"Mitchell's been poisoned?" Hammond asked, catching the words that Carter had said before he'd interrupted her. "Where is she?"
"They're carrying her. We ran ahead with the darts to get the antidote. They're at least two days away on foot, and probably a lot more."
Anderson slipped off his pack – his shirt was soaked with sweat and sticking to his skin – and dropped to the floor of the embarkation room to open the bag. Digging through it with hands that were shaking almost as badly as his legs were, the Major found the towel wrapped baggie and handed it to Fraiser.
"You have to be careful." He warned her. "Colonel Mitchell wouldn't even let us touch them."
Fraiser unwrapped the towel and saw the two wicked looking little darts. One was clean and menacing, the other was covered with drying blood – that hadn't dried completely because of the airtight baggie it was in – and had little pieces of flesh sticking to it. This was obviously the culprit.
"I'll analyze it and see what we're dealing with," Fraiser told Hammond and the others. She looked at Anderson, who was still on his knees, and at Carter, who looked ready to sink to hers at any minute. "Get them cooled off, re-hydrated, and into bed."
"No!" Anderson came to his shaky feet, almost fell and grabbed at Hammond to keep from doing so. "We have to get back. I have to be there."
"You need a chance to rest, son," Hammond told him, understanding completely. He was Mitchell's Second in Command and as such, knew his place was with the Colonel. However, they were going to need him to show the rescue team where to go, and they'd need him in one piece for that. "Doctor Fraiser's going to need a while to get the poison analyzed, and you'll use that time to get your strength back. Then, when she's got the antidote, you and Major Carter can lead the rescue team to go get the others."
Anderson nodded, and released Hammond's shirt with an apologetic look. Hammond smiled, reassuringly, and put his hand on his shoulder. Hotheads, all of his kids were hotheads. And he liked that about them, most of the time. "Major Carter, Major Anderson, you two go with the medics and do whatever they tell you. We'll get the rescue team put together."
"Yes, Sir."
Anderson nodded again, and the two followed Fraiser's medics out of the room. Hammond watched, then looked up at Davis, who had watched it all through the bullet-proof glass of the command center.
"Get me SG-9, and SG-14 in the briefing room in ten minutes, Sergeant."
"Yes, Sir."
~*~
Jack's voice woke her from a cruel dream, and she felt something wet placed against her lips.
"Melony?"
"Mike?" Her open mouth was suddenly filled with wetness, and she realized it was cold coffee they were trying to get her to drink. The wetness felt wonderful to her parched lips and tongue, and the flavor was something she'd never been able to say no to. She took a painful swallow, the muscles of her throat seizing temporarily, then giving way and doing what she wanted.
"It's Jack, Melony." His voice sounded so worried that she had to open her eyes. And she did. And saw that someone was standing between her and the sun to shade her from the direct rays. That was nice of them, she decided idly.
"Jack?" She moved her head, and winced. She hurt everywhere. There was an overall feeling of unwellness, but her entire body ached, as well, and her heartbeat was the rhythm of the pain.
"Yeah." He held the canteen against her lips once more and she took another sip of the cold coffee gratefully.
"Where's Brad?"
"He's coming, Melony. Just hang in there, okay?" Jack sounded tired, and scared, and as if he were trying to hide both.
"I'm fine, Jack."
She closed her eyes, needing to rest them. They ached, too, and trying to focus on him hadn't made them feel any better.
"Stay with me, Melony."
"I am... stop nagging."
She felt a cool cloth on her forehead, and turned her head towards it when it was pulled along her left cheek. That felt wonderful. Almost as good as the coffee.
"We're just going to take a quick break," Jack told her. "Are you hungry? Can you eat for me?"
Ugh. "No." The last thing she wanted was something in her stomach. She already felt sick.
"More coffee?"
"No..." She sighed. "More towel..."
~*~
Jack smiled, slightly, and watched as Daniel ran the wet towel along Mitchell's flushed face. The coffee was a brilliant idea, and one he should have thought of. They'd been trying to get water into her all morning, but every time they thought they'd managed to get some into her, she'd throw it up – even though there wasn't anything left in her stomach to come with it. He'd held her as she retched, and clung to her tightly, trying to get her to wake up and talk to him, but this was the first time all morning that she'd been lucid enough to do more than mutter incoherently. Usually asking for her brother, or Jack, or Brad Anderson, but not acknowledging Jack when he responded to her. At least she seemed to be holding the coffee down. Apparently, she was still bound by her favorite rule: good coffee was not to be wasted.
"We'll grab a bite to eat and then get going," Jack said to Teal'c as Daniel opened the bottom buttons of Mitchell's shirt and ran the towel along her belly and sides, as well. She was so fevered that Daniel was determined to cool her off as much as possible, barring stripping her down and pouring water all over her. Mitchell sighed, again, but didn't say anything, although the pained crease of her forehead seemed to ease a little, which gave Jack a little hope. He wondered how far ahead of them Carter and Anderson were.