Too Strong Part 4 of 11

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"Sabotage?"

Sergeant Siler shrugged and nodded. "Yes, Sir. Every case of system or equipment malfunction in the last twenty-four hours has been a direct result of sabotage."

Jack slammed his elbows on the briefing room table and roughly raked his hair with his fingers. "Anything serious?"

"No, Sir. Nothing that can't be fixed with some time. I'll have the air scrubbers and climate control systems back online within the next three or four hours. The stock elevator is already up and running again, and the refrigerators in the mess will be fixed shortly. For those, we needed some parts to be brought down. The equipment in the infirmary and Colonel Carter's laboratory will take a bit more time due to the highly specialized and technical nature, but "

"Carter's Lab? Infirmary? Has anything else gone wrong I don't know about?

Siler cleared his throat and looked down at the report in front of him. "Um, no, Sir. I don't believe so."

"Okay, fine. Just . . . get on it, and report back to me when we're all set. Walter!"

Before the airman's name was off his lips, he appeared beside Jack. "Yes, sir?"

"Get me the Head of Security for the base, and the names of all the shift leaders for the last forty-eight hours. I want to see them here by 1430 hours."

"Yes, Sir."

Walter headed through Jack's office to the hall beyond, leaving Jack alone in the briefing room. He reclined his chair back. Letting his head rest on the smooth leather with his eyes momentarily closed. Sabotage? What the hell? Who? How?

"General O'Neill, could I speak with you for a moment?"

Jack looked up to Dr. Brightman. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

"It's in regards to the matter you brought to my attention earlier."

He immediately stood and motioned towards his office. Doc Brightman preceded him inside and he shut the door behind them, crossing behind her to shut the other door. Jack didn't bother go behind his desk, instead he stood at the corner and tapped the wood with his fingertips.

"So . . . what're we talkin'?"

Doc Brightman sighed. "I wish I knew for sure, General. I went over the medical reports of all the returning SG members, and on a handful of them – Colonel Carter included – there is a trace unknown substance in their blood that as of right now I can't account for."

Jack squinted his eyes. "You don't know what it is?"

"No. I need to run further tests . . ."

"Ah, crap," Jack muttered under his breath. "I was hoping you'd say she was just . . . you know . . . tired, or somethin'."

"I suggest we bring her, and the other SG members, to the infirmary immediately."

Jack nodded, still fuming over the news. Crap, crap, crap "I'll go with you."

Sam paced her lab from one end to the other, her hands twitching and fisting nervously at her side. Her skin crawled and her blood ran hot in her veins, as if part acid/part lava.

She couldn't think . . . couldn't concentrate. Her mind was a jumble of hissing voices and whispered secrets demanding her attention. Anxious knots twisted her stomach and made her insides quiver with nervous energy.

It's going to happen . . . any second now . . . any moment. He'll be dead. Dead. DEAD!

"No!" she shouted to the room.

No, he couldn't be. What was she doing?

The voices! The voices!

Sam dropped to a hunch on the floor, slapping the heel of her hands against her temples trying desperately to silence the maddening hoard in her mind. She rocked on the balls of her feet, curling in on her own body, begging for the screaming to stop.

You did it! You did it! He's dead! He's dead! You killed him!

"No!" she screamed to the silent room and lunged to her feet, sweeping her arms across the nearest table. Equipment and notes flew across the room, papers filling the air. "No! No!"

Dead! Dead! Dead!

Hundreds, thousands of hissing, slithering voices swirled and coiled around her. She felt the cold, clammy scales on her skin and she dug at her arms and neck with her nails. They crawled up her back, along her spine, into her hair – their forked tongues tickling her ears.

Dead! Dead! Dead!

Sam screamed.

The primal ferocity of the scream that echoed through the cement SGC walls momentarily froze Jack in his tracks, then propelled him forward. Never had he heard a sound like that, but he didn't have to see to know who it was.

Sam . . .

He grabbed the frame of the door, using it as leverage to fling his body around into the room, scanning the dim space for any sign of her. The lab was a wreck . . . papers and equipment scattered on the floor and across the table, some pieces beeping and buzzing in protest to their mistreatment.

Jack took another step in just as Doc Brightman's soft clicking heels reached the door.

"Carter?"

Then he heard it . . . a whimpered sob accompanied by a muffled thumping. Jack stepped cautiously around the side of her long table, and his chest seized. Sam was curled in the fetal position, lying on her side. Her fingers and arms were bloody from clawing at her own skin. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, and the thumping sound was the steady rhythm she kept – banging her head against the cement floor.

Jack dropped to his knees beside her and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to sit up. "Carter . . . Carter!"

Vacant eyes turned up to look at him, staring but not seeing. Jack couldn't breathe, squinting in the dim light of the room to try and see her. What the hell was going on? What had happened to her? What had she done to herself?

"You're dead . . . " she whispered, her voice raw and rough.

"No, Carter. I'm right here."

"We need to get her to the infirmary," Doc Brightman said from the doorway.

No shit, Sherlock

Sam's eyelids fluttered, and her eyes rolled back into her head so far the iris disappeared, showing only white. Her body slumped in his grip, and Jack shifted, bringing her against his chest.

"There's a gurney on the way . . . "

"Screw that."

He lifted her in his arms, and with her head resting over his heart, carried her from the room.