5.

Sheppard came to lying on the floor. He was growing used to waking up and not knowing exactly what had happened, but as he opened his eyes, and began to examine his surroundings, he figured this one took the cake. If he was right, this was the brig in Atlantis; the same brig where they'd kept Steve, and later, Bob.

He couldn't hold back the memory from when he'd shot down Bob; first one bullet, then another, and another, and with each strike of metal on flesh he'd felt just one ounce better. He had known Bob wasn't going to talk. He'd pulled the gun because of it, because he'd have a chance to extract his bit of flesh for all the people that had died, and would die, because of the Wraith.

But why was he here? Why was he lying on the ground in his uniform, and why did his head feel like he'd been used as a punching bag? He lifted his head off the floor, and winced at the pain. He twisted his head around, searching for a sign of somebody who could explain what was going on.

His eyes found someone. He squinted in the dark. "Sergeant," he called levelly. "Why am I in here?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, you'll have to wait for Doctor Beckett." The Sergeant continued to look off to the side, avoiding eye contact with Sheppard.

"And when is Doctor Beckett going to grace us with his presence?" Sheppard asked with forced casualness. He'd finished struggling to his feet, and now stood at the edge of the cell, inches from the bars, and facing the guard.

"Feeling out of sorts, are we now?" Beckett said, walking in the door that was situated behind Sheppard. He walked around the outer perimeter of the boxy cell, aware of Sheppard's eyes tracking his progress as he moved towards the guard, and the entrance to the interior of the cell. Beckett nodded to the guard to drop the force field, and to let him in.

"Why shouldn't I be?" retorted Sheppard. "I'm being kept in a cell!"

"And did you stop to think why?" remonstrated Beckett, looking around the cell for a table. There wasn't one. He scowled at the Sergeant, "Why isn't there a table, or a cot?"

The Sergeant flushed guiltily. "There wasn't time, Sir."

"Then make time," roared Beckett. "This isn't a Wraith in here."

"Yes, Sir!" responded the Sergeant smartly. He stepped away from the door and murmured into his radio.

"Thanks." Sheppard stood awkwardly. "Well this is nice," he said.

Beckett grimaced with the distaste of the situation. He would prefer Sheppard be kept in the infirmary, or confined to quarters, but Caldwell was concerned that Sheppard would use his ability with the ATA tech to escape their control. He supposed it was a possibility, though he had a hard time believing Sheppard would actually follow through with something like that. Logically, however, he knew the guards weren't lying about what happened. He had the vial, and he even had preliminary results that confirmed what he had suspected when he'd heard where Sheppard had been confronted.

"It's necessary," Beckett said shortly. A pair of Marines arrived with a cot, table, and chair. As they brought them in to the cell, Beckett focused on Sheppard, looking him over. The tight lines on Sheppard's forehead and around his eyes betrayed the headache he had from the earlier hit that had taken him down. Otherwise…otherwise he looked perfectly normal. "Do you know why you are here?" Beckett asked, moving his bag onto the table as the men retreated from the room. The bars hummed with the re-activation of the field. "Or what you tried to do?" he amended as he began to pull out a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope.

"I didn't do anything!" claimed Sheppard. He was watching Beckett, saw him taking out the instruments for a check-up, and knew Beckett expected him to head for the cot and take a seat, but he'd be damned if he was ready to cooperate. The last thing he remembered…what was the last thing he remembered? He frowned, trying to connect the mental dots. The infirmary…he'd been in the infirmary, and space invaders! He'd been playing a game, and then…then nothing.

"Colonel?" Beckett walked over to where Sheppard was standing, and tilted his head down to catch Sheppard's gaze. "What is it?"

"Something's wrong," whispered Sheppard, slowly raising his face to look at Beckett. "How did I get here?"

Beckett didn't like the change coming over Sheppard. He backed up a step. "Why don't we take a look at you first," he started to say, but Sheppard advanced.

"No," pursued Sheppard. "Tell me how I got here."

"You tried to poison the water," admitted Beckett, when he saw that he wasn't going to be able to put off the man. It wasn't like telling Sheppard was going to change anything; he'd only wanted to delay the inevitable.

The revelation stunned Sheppard. He hadn't expected Beckett to give so easily, and while he didn't know exactly what he'd expected to hear, it sure as hell wasn't that. "I what?" he repeated, feeling slow and stupid.

Beckett sighed. This wasn't going well. "You had a vial," he began to explain. "Preliminary tests show it contained a version of the Hoffan virus. I'm still looking, but from what I can tell, it's been modified."

Sheppard didn't understand. What could the people of Hoff gain by having him spike their water supply, short of killing off at least fifty percent of the expedition's population? "Why?" he said, searching Beckett for answers that the doctor didn't have.

"I don't know. Not yet, at least," he replied. He guided Sheppard to the cot, and pushed him down. Sheppard didn't resist. "You don't remember any of it? You attacked the guards that were watching you."

"I don't remember," Sheppard repeated dully. He was beginning to feel like his life was spiraling out of his control.

Beckett didn't know what to say to make Sheppard feel better about what was happening. Maybe, because there wasn't anything to be said, terribly sorry, probably wasn't going to cut it. So, he said nothing at all, instead he went through the motions of the check-up with mechanical precision, made easier by the Colonel's lack of response.

Beckett wasn't surprised to see that the results were normal, and he wasn't happy with it, either. He'd hoped for something to come back high, or low, or upside down, anything but normal. Then he'd have an excuse to move Sheppard to the infirmary, and he'd have some avenue to explore in helping the Colonel.

He packed up his instruments, and gave another long look at the man sitting on the cot. Sheppard hadn't made eye contact, or shown any interest in him since he'd told him what had happened. "You're perfectly normal," he said cheerily, hoping to diminish the pall that had fallen.

"Normal?" reacted Sheppard, not in the way Beckett had hoped.

"Maybe that wasn't the best choice of words," conceded Beckett. "You're healthy, Colonel."

Sheppard didn't answer; instead, he stretched out on the cot, folding his arms beneath his head.

"Right," Beckett said. He grabbed the handle of his bag, and waited for the guard to drop the field and open the door. Once he was clear of the cell, he watched Sheppard, and saw him flinch involuntarily as the guard locked the door, and re-activated the field.


Beckett stared at the test results, and felt a fury growing down deep in his gut. He'd been through a lot, seen a lot, but it never ceased to amaze him at the inhumanity of humanity. They'd changed it. The Hoffans had changed the vaccine, mutated it into something even more deadly, and they'd done it with the help of the Genii.

He could still see the telltale signatures from his and Perna's work, but now there was someone else's signature added to theirs. The implications of the changes were grave. No longer did it have to be given in an inoculation. Once it was introduced into a population, it would spread like wildfire.

His error had now been compounded through no fault of his own, beyond his initial cooperation- cooperation that had been volunteered by Sheppard himself. He sighed heavily. Past actions couldn't be undone, one had to live with the consequences. He folded the slip of paper, and paged Elizabeth.

"What is it, Carson?"

"We've got a problem," he announced.


"It will spread like a virus." Elizabeth said, glancing at Beckett to verify what she had understood from their earlier conversation.

Beckett nodded, confirming her statement. "I'm afraid so."

Caldwell wished he knew more about the situation with the Hoffans, and the Genii, but all he had were reports. Elizabeth had arrived a few minutes ago with Beckett, and what they had to say wasn't what he wanted to hear. "How is that possible?" he asked, beginning to give in to his anger over the situation. "You told me it wasn't contagious?"

"And it wasn't, but it's been altered," continued Beckett.

"How is that possible," exclaimed Caldwell. "You told me they weren't advanced enough for this type of development?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "They aren't, but the Genii are."

This wasn't making sense to Caldwell. "But you told me the Genii are very protective over their people, which is how this entire feud began," he fished for answers. "It doesn't make sense that they'd go along with a plan that would effectively reduce half their population?"

"Unless they didn't know," reasoned Beckett. "They could be as much a pawn in this scheme as we've been."

Caldwell began to realize with a sinking feeling that nothing he'd done in his military career could even begin to prepare him for this job. He'd assumed command, knowing it would be a challenge. Taking over from another commander was always a stiff assignment, especially when the leader had been respected as Weir was, but that was proving to be the least worrisome hurdle.

Still, he'd never backed away from a challenge, and he wasn't going to do so now. He stared at the personnel reports on his desk that he'd been reviewing before Beckett and Weird had showed up. Whether the change in command was warranted or not, he had a job to do, and he was responsible for not only the people of Atlantis, but apparently he'd also assumed the mantle of responsibility for the human population in the Pegasus galaxy, the indigent population that couldn't fight or protect themselves from the Wraith, and from the insidious enemy within their own race; the Genii and now the Hoffans.

He realized Weir and Beckett were waiting for him to say something. He set his pen down. He'd been holding it the entire time, and it only now dawned on him that his hand was grasping it so tightly that his fingers ached. "It would seem we have more than one issue to solve," he said.

Beckett and Weir exchanged looks. Caldwell pressed forward. "It's immaterial now that the Hoffans plan failed. Once they realize their patient zero didn't cooperate, they'll move on, and infect other worlds," he stated calmly. "Therefore, we need to develop our own vaccine; an antidote to reverse this virus."

Beckett opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when Caldwell continued, "And, we need to send a message to both the Genii and the Hoffans, that this can't continue. We're not going to sit back and let them play their games."

"And we need to help Colonel Sheppard," Elizabeth added quietly.

Caldwell stared at her enigmatically. "That too," he said.

"Why don't you ask for a cure for cancer while you're at it," muttered Beckett.

Caldwell pursed his lips together, and Elizabeth wasn't sure if he was doing it to fight off a smile, or a scowl. "If you've got the time," said Caldwell, as he turned his attention back to the files on his desk.

Beckett stared at the balded head, bent over the papers. He thought about arguing the impossibility of what Caldwell had asked, but what was the point? He'd try, and pray for a miracle. Just like every day since they'd arrived in this place. He turned and left. It was going to be a long night.