Apologies for the delay, but to make up for it this installment is a little longer than previous ones. And you get to learn more about the cubes!
With apologies to Monty Python and Gary Larson (you'll see what I mean)
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Carson palpated the small mass above Michelle's collarbone, first gently and then more firmly. "That hurt, love?"
"No, it doesn't really hurt at all." she said.
"Any fevers? Night sweats?" She nodded yes to both. "You said you were tired. How about your appetite?"
"I haven't really been hungry for a while, now that I look back. And I've lost about 10 pounds. I thought it was just stress."
With a growing sense of unease, Carson began examining other lymph node groups. His hands were practiced and skillful. Several nodes were enlarged in the neck region and under her arms. Michelle hissed in pain when Carson pressed on the left side of her abdomen. "Sorry," he said softly, putting a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. In truth, though, he was becoming increasingly worried, since he had noted an enlarged and tender spleen. He readied a syringe as she sat up on the exam table.
"We'll get some bloodwork," Carson said as he tied a rubber tourniquet around Michelle's upper arm and drew several tubes. "You can get dressed after that, and I'll meet you in my office." As Carson walked out of the exam room, he caught sight of the nurse he'd spoken to earlier. He handed the tubes of blood to the man and said, "Send this for the routine stuff. And add on an LDH and a leukocyte alkaline phosphatase level." Avoiding the questions in the nurse's eyes, Carson then stepped into his office at the rear of the infirmary.
As usual, the desk was a mess, with papers piled everywhere. There were journal articles on topics ranging from genetics to emergency medicine. He had been out of date on some things, never dreaming he would need to run an entire medical unit millions of light years from home.
His diploma from the Edinburgh Faculty of Medicine hung on one wall, near some amateur photos he'd taken of his hometown and friends and family. On another wall was a framed Monty Python quote that he found ironically appropriate for a mission in another galaxy. "So remember when you're feeling very small and insecure/ How amazingly unlikely is your birth/ And pray that there's intelligent life somewhere up in space / 'Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth." Somehow he doubted that Eric Idle had had the Wraith in mind.
Carson sighed as a knock sounded at the door. "Come in. Have a seat if you can find one in this clutter."
Michelle entered and sat in front of his desk. As Carson tried to organize his thoughts, she said emotionlessly. "Carson. Lymphadenopathy, splenomegaly, 'B' symptoms. You know that can't be good."
His compassionate eyes met hers. "Let's not jump to conclusions too quickly. We'll see what the labs show, and I'll arrange for you to get the Ancient equivalent of a CT scan today. And of course we'll need to biopsy that mass. I know you're thinking malignancy. But there are other things it can be."
Carson stood and helped Michelle to her feet. "Get the scan, and then go get some more rest. We'll probably do the biopsy tomorrow, so don't eat anything after midnight. And, as hard as it may seem, try not to worry too much."
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The next morning, Carson went to find Dr. Zelenka in his lab. Half-disassembled pieces of equipment were everywhere. Of Zelenka himself there was no sign, except for two disembodied feet sticking out from under a machine that looked like a cross between a refrigerator and a nuclear reactor. "Radek?" he called. Nothing. Clearing his throat, Carson tried again, a little louder. "Radek?"
When Zelenka still didn't answer, Carson gingerly tapped one of the protruding feet. This time the response was impressive. Carson winced as he heard a loud thump and irritated Czech swearing. The feet moved as their owner slowly pulled himself out.
"Kurva drát! Who? Oh, Carson I see. Obviously it not enough for you to perform on me weird medical procedures, make me human porcupine. Now you try to kill me, too. If not from head injury, then from heart attack. I'm going to - how you say - call my lawyer."
Carson leaned over. "There's not even a bump, ye big baby. And all the tests I've done have been perfectly routine."
"So it was necessary for you to stick that thing up my nose? And ... wait, wait, wait, you not changing the subject so quickly. You made me smack my head, then call me a baby. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I need your help, son. I need you to show me where you found those cubes."
Zelenka continued to grumble, but his expression brightened. "Do you know what they are?"
"Not really, but I have a few ideas. If I can see where you found them, it might help."
Zelenka looked at his machine, then sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Give me about 30 minutes, okay? Otherwise there's a teeny tiny chance this could explode."
Carson slapped Zalenka on the back. "Thank ye, Radek. And just for that, I won't tell Dr. Weir you're building a still."
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After about a mile, Zelenka indicated that they had reached the site. Major Sheppard, who had insisted on coming when he heard the two scientists would be exploring, looked bored. Carson had overheard him ask Elizabeth if she wanted to bet on who came back injured this time, so he knew the Major wasn't there for scientific curiosity. Personally, given the amount of time he spent in the infirmary, Carson thought that Sheppard himself was equally as likely to come to grief.
They stepped into a large, high-ceilinged room. A row of sensors was mounted along one wall. Carson thought he recognized indicators for heart rate and respiratory rate, but couldn't determine a purpose for the others. A group of chairs was located under the windows close to the entrance. A waiting area, maybe? The place definitely had the look of a clinic or an urgent care center. There was even something that could be called a nurse's station, with a computer terminal and monitoring equipment.
Zelenka pointed to a force field-covered depression next to the computer terminal. "We found the cubes in there. I could not reach them, but Rodney was able to deactivate the field with his ATA gene. We took some of the cubes and left the rest in place."
Carson experimentally reached out his hand and the field flickered out. As it did, he saw that Ancient writing covered the depression in which two cubes remained. "Now what does that say?"
Sheppard walked over to take a look. "As far as I can tell, it says something like 'In case of emergency'." At Carson's and Zelenka's surprised looks, he shrugged. "Thought it might be fun to learn some Ancient."
"Tell us again what you experienced with the cubes." Zelenka broke in.
"Now that I think about it, the first time was a few days ago. I was doing paperwork and listening to Lieutenant Ford whine about being cooped up in the infirmary. Incidentally, Major, can you please stop setting bad examples for the rest of your crew? Anyway, I was thinking about Jinto -- he'd presented with strange symptoms -- and I was fiddling with one of the cubes. I didna think of it until now, but that was when the answer to that puzzle just hit me."
"And the other time, doc?" This from Sheppard.
"That was on the way back from the mainland. I was wondering what a certain plant was, and then I just knew. Both times, I got very hungry and tired immediately afterward."
"But nothing happened when McKay touched it." stated Sheppard.
"No," said Zelenka. "Even Dr. K. only made it flicker."
"Why don't you give it a go, Major?" suggested Carson.
"Me?"
"Yeah. Just think of a medical question."
Sheppard shrugged again and picked up a cube. He closed his eyes and the cube glowed bright blue for a moment. "Nothing," he said eventually.
"What did you want to know?" asked Zelenka.
"Um, I wanted to know the name of the little thing that hangs down in the back of your throat." Carson looked disgusted. "What? It's a legitimate question."
"We really need to start some basic medical training for personnel," muttered Carson.
"Try Dr. K. again," said Zelenka. "Maybe she wasn't thinking of a question or puzzle at the time she picked it up. It probably needs someone with at least some medical knowledge."
As if by consensus, the three men walked towards the door. Zelenka told Carson that he would run some diagnostics on a cube. "This time, though, I'll call you with the results.," he said firmly, rubbing the back of his head.
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As luck would have it, Helen Kusanagi was the first person Carson met when he returned to the infirmary. But the cubes quickly became the last thing on his mind when she told him that she had just completed Michelle's biopsy. She assured him that Michelle was resting comfortably and that Dr. Biro was reading the pathology slides.
With a feeling of dread, Carson sought out the pathologist. He looked through the open door into her office. "Carol..." he said, his voice trailing off. The look on her face told him all he needed to know.
"Oh, crap."