A/N: Several people have pointed out that I've not mentioned the episode "Lifeboat," which bears a shocking similarity to much of this plot! Um... I forgot. I really did! And then I thought about mentioning it in the fic, but decided I'd be mentionining it just for canon's sake, and not because it was actually useful towards the plot. So... sorry! I really am. It's a big oversight on my part and I'm kicking myself right now. But look - it's a long chapter! That makes things better, right? ;-)
The Puppet Master
Chapter Twenty One - Pots and Kettles
Sheppard had bowled through the gate brimming with an energy and optimism he'd been missing, borne not only by the adrenaline rush from his near death experience, but also from the signs of hope glimmering behind the Czech's glasses. Radek seemed unbothered by his own injury, brushing it off as minor when Weir asked, and insisting he return to his lab to investigate the device further. He demanded Carson's presence, with the pointed adjoiner that since he was injured, he could 'kill the two birds with one rock.'
"How long?"
He hummed, and ahhed, then admitted: "I am not sure. Two hours, perhaps three – if the machine is undamaged. Powering it should be simple – relatively - but connecting it to the computers of Atlantis, less so."
It took five. Sheppard used the first three showering and sleeping and then, when Zelenka still hadn't called, the final two talking to McKay.
Talking to him. The person in the cell had resumed his earlier policy of stubborn silence. McKay crouched in the dark beside the cot, knees to his chest, rocking.
Sheppard was trying not to let this bother him, deciding to treat McKay like a coma patient - reasoning that even if his friend couldn't respond there was a good chance he could still hear what was being said to him. He spoke of small talk, jibes of American-Canadian differences, city gossip.
And refused to acknowledge his own inability to stare at the figure in the cage, or to meet his friend's dark glare.
"Kavanagh's got his panties in a twist about what happened to Ashcroft. I feel sorry for Dave. He's become the poster child in Kavanagh's campaign to get to the top of the heap – not that I'd worry about it. Zelenka might look pretty meek but I'm telling you, he's like a terrier when protecting his turf." He drifted, distracted by the cell bars and the slight scuffling sound of hospital scrubs against the hard floor of Atlantis. He had to force himself to continue, with physical effort: "I wouldn't worry. Despite any power trips the doc' isn't likely to take over your post. And nobody much likes Kavanagh. I swear, if the man wasn't –"
"John."
The first time was so quiet he almost missed it. He looked across to see McKay's head lowered, chin tucked to his chest and arms hugging his knees. He was ready to dismiss it as a trick of his imagination, about to launch back into his discussion of the deviousness of certain pony tailed scientists when – again.
A soft whisper and McKay lifted a pale face towards him. "John, please."
He swallowed hard, and took a step towards the bars. "Hey."
"I'm not insane."
He was aware of his hands clenching, and stuffed his fists into his jacket pockets. "Never said you were."
"Then let me out."
"Can't do that, McKay. Not until we've fixed whatever's wrong with you."
The physicist shook his head violently, a rolling motion in his shoulders. "I keep blacking out, and when I wake up – I forget where I am. For a minute – then it all rushes back." Clear blue eyes lifted to stare at him. "If I could go back to the lab, maybe I could –"
"Zelenka's already on it," he said, and hated the soothing tone his voice took, mimicking Heightmeyer. "Just sit tight and –"
"And wait?" McKay scooted backwards, bumping against the cot. "In here? Like a prisoner?"
"That's not what –"
Another interruption. "That's exactly what this is. I'm not stupid. You don't believe me." Then a burst of violent energy, and the double finger snap, the slap of hand against palm that seemed out of place, disjointed. "I told you the truth, John. If I could find a way to prove it to you –"
"To prove what?" he said, casually.
"That I –" and another shake of his head, and then McKay rose awkwardly, nervous energy and jerky limbs, levering himself up and off the bed to take a step across the cell. "I'm sane."
Sheppard forced himself to meet his friend's gaze. Lied: "I know that."
"Then let me out."
And his mouth parted, lips forming around a reassurance that he couldn't give. He forced it down, swallowing the words and turning away from the cell. "I can't do that."
"Please."
"Rodney –"
"Please, John."
He turned back to see McKay stood in the centre of the cell, shivering, a flush in his cheeks and his shoulders hunched. The cell Steve had taunted him from. Full of harsh light and deep shadows.
Shadows resting on one hand, careful fingers tugging and pulling at the skin of the other.
He swallowed, tasting bile. "No."
He heard Kezan's quick intake of breath, and the sound of a single footstep. The man straightened, chin tilting up slightly.
"I did what she asked. And I'm pretending for you. Making like it's all okay. But still, I wake up and here I am." He paused, staring at Sheppard darkly. "It won't ever be like it was."
His breath caught at the back of his throat, and he forced himself to meet Kezan's gaze, returning the stare for a long moment. The only sound was a soft panting. Then he turned, ripping himself away and moving towards the door on autopilot. He had to force his feet to slow, though part of him wanted to break out into a run – and just keep going, head across the city and let the pounding of his muscles cleanse him of this particular nightmare. And he ignored the scream from the cell behind him, alien in its distance.
"You can't keep me shut in here!"
Sheppard managed to reach the safety of the transporter before his restraint broke. So did the unlucky control panel.
"Major Sheppard, come in please."
He hit the call button his radio with one hand, and sucked on the knuckles of the other, tasting copper. "Sheppard here."
"You're wanted in Doctor McKay's lab, sir. Doctor Weir has called a staff meeting."
He rubbed his bruised hands against his jacket. "Understood. I'll be right there."
Then he took a moment to stand in the safety of the transporter, breathing quickly, and trying not to think about the voice in his head.
"John –"
From the look of McKay's lab he was almost the last to arrive, and without an available seat. Shifting some papers from a lab bench he hopped up, an errant Ford joining him several moments later.
Zelenka stood at the head of the room, where he had set up a projector screen. To his left sat the computer drive retrieved from MX-478, amidst a nest of wires and metal, adapters cobbled from a mix of Earth and Ancient equipment. It was emitting a loud, slightly unsteady hum. The Japanese girl he had startled previously hovered over the machine, scanner in one hand, her hands fluttering over the wires as
though they were a form of delicate origami. She kept whispering to Zelenka, who in return waved his own hands and nodded reassuringly.
Sheppard wasn't convinced.
Carson and Elizabeth sat on stools to the right of the projector screen, with Teyla standing beside them. Elizabeth had turned at his entrance, and nodded to him.
"I hope you've had some sleep, Major."
"Some," he breezed. Restrained himself from pointing out the hobo beard Carson was cultivating, or the shadows under Elizabeth's own eyes.
Even Kate's permanent mask of perkiness seemed to be slipping. She stood, awkwardly, at the opposite corner to Elizabeth, and Sheppard was satisfied to notice that she no longer carried her notebook. Then felt guilty, noting the way she glanced nervously, regretfully towards him when she thought he wasn't looking.
"This is when we get to prove her wrong," Ford said, sat beside him.
"It's not about that," Sheppard said, still watching her. "She's only saying what she thinks, and she is supposed to be the expert."
Ford frowned, but nodded. "I guess," he admitted, reluctantly.
"She's only done what she thinks is best for McKay."
Another nod, but Aiden looked unconvinced. Sheppard turned away, back to the hard drive wired up to the Atlantean computer.
"I like her", McKay had said, when a post-breakfast table discussion had turned to the evils of compulsory psychological testing.
"I'm sure she's lovely," Sheppard had agreed, and it would have been hard for him to say anything else. All blonde hair and long legs and perfection.
"You just have that typical military attitude towards everyone in the medical profession."
"I like Carson," he had protested.
"I'll remind you of that the next time you have to go for a medical."
"Pot and kettle, Rodney."
He met Kate's gaze across the lab, and nodded at her. Not quite a smile, but an acknowledgement that was returned, gratefully.
The buzzing sound from the machine was growing louder, prompting a panicked flurry of activity from the Japanese woman. After several directions from Zelenka it dropped back to the moderate hum of before, but the Czech was busy fussing with his glasses, and his companion seemed even more nervous than before.
"Dr Zelenka?" Elizabeth, her tone deliberate. "I take it that contraption of yours is designed to interface Atlantis' systems with that of the alien computer?"
He nodded eagerly, glancing at his assistant. "Yes. Dr Kusanagi has been good enough to help me."
She offered a brief, timid smile before ducking back under the equipment.
A mutter from Beckett, just audible. "Here's one I prepared earlier."
He received several confused looks. Aiden nudged a little closer to Sheppard and whispered: "What?"
He shrugged. "Don't ask me. I was thinking along the lines of 'and now over to my lovely assistant.'"
Ford grinned, then immediately sobered when he realized Weir was looking at them with her best, scolding headmistress expression.
"Is this safe?" Kate asked, eyeing the machine doubtfully.
"Completely," the Czech assured her. Then corrected: "Almost completely. I am a little worried as to how the city's systems will handle the new information, there is some risk of corruption – but my test runs showed no problems."
With this complete lack of assurance he turned away, directing Kusanagi in a soft voice. She nodded and started flipping various switches and crystals on the cobbled together interface. After several seconds the projected image, which until now had been nothing more than a blank blue screen, flickered and flipped to black. After another moment words started to appear, an alien text in white font unfamiliar to Sheppard.
Weir was quicker. "That looks like Ancient."
"But it is not," Teyla said, frowning. "I can understand some words and recognize many characters but together they make little sense."
"It is a dialect." Kusanagi spoke in little more than a whisper, words buried into the floor as she dug her chin into her chest, turning a delicate shade of pink when the rest of the room turned towards her.
"A dialect," Beckett repeated, encouragingly.
She nodded to the floor. "An early off shoot of what became Ancient. Many of the characters are visually similar but bear different meanings."
"Aside from being an excellent programmer, Miko is also an amateur linguist," Zelenka explained, beaming, and placing his hand on the nervous woman's shoulder. "She has been writing a translation program for Ancient to English and has adapted it for this purpose."
"This is a much simpler form," she explained, to Zelenka's shoulder. "Much easier to use, though it is filled with many errors."
"You should be kinder on yourself. It is very impressive system."
"So can it translate this?" Ford asked, gesturing up at the screen.
Zelenka nodded, turning to his laptop. His hands darted about the keys in an echo of McKay's. After several moments the projector screen cleared, and more words appeared in the place of the old. Then an image, a strange symbol above a photo.
"Kezan," Zelenka said, triumphantly.
He looked no older than Ford. An olive complexion surrounded large green eyes above a long nose, a shock of untidy brown hair and finished with a slight point to the chin.
"He's real?" Kate said, startled.
"I knew it," Sheppard said, with a tight grin. "Of course he's real."
"Quite." Zelenka glanced over his shoulder at the image behind him. "Or he was. He died."
"He's dead?" Sheppard repeated, staring at the photo. The picture of a man barely more than a boy.
"Oh yes. I –" Radek broke off, looking towards Kusanagi.
"Nine hundred years ago," she told the light fixture.
"So McKay's being possessed by a ghost?" Ford asked, disbelievingly.
"Not exactly, Lieutenant." Carson gestured at Zelenka's contraption, and the hard drive buried within it. "It seems that thing holds all the medical records of what its owners were doing on the planet."
"Medical records?" Teyla asked.
"Aye. Kezan was a patient of theirs, it seems. They were studying him. Or, ah, well, not exactly him –"
"A copy," Zelenka explained. "They had the ability to take a person's mind and download it, like you would a CD. These were then stored on the, ah, the little balls that Lieutenant Ford so kindly retrieved for me."
"But it looks like they could never get a perfect copy," Beckett continued. "There were flaws in the system, bits missing."
"And not just that." Radek laid a hand on the hard drive. "This also suffers from imperfections. The information has degraded – yes, that is to be expected – but the programming, it is, ah –"
"It has holes," Kusanagi supplied, meekly. "The creator of this system was not familiar with the computer language he used to make it."
Elizabeth was frowning, deeply. "I'm not sure I understand."
There was another flush, as Kusanagi's ears turned scarlet. "It as though you, Dr Weir, were to use a book on computer script to create a programme, without knowing the language on which it is based. You would follow the instructions, but have no deeper understanding. As though you created a poem in Japanese by choosing characters from a dictionary." Long fingers danced in the air as she repeated: "Holes."
"I do not believe this technology was native to whoever used it," Zelenka continued. "It is a mix of all – some Ancient, some I do not recognise. There are many flaws, many errors. It would not surprise me to learn the scientists had abandoned their project due to its failure."
"Or due to the Wraith," Teyla pointed out.
"True."
"But what was their project?" Sheppard asked. "Not that the cultural lesson isn't interesting, but is there anything in there to help McKay?"
"From what we can tell," Carson said, shooting a glance at Sheppard, "the purpose of the laboratory was to study the human brain and all its conditions. Instead of using live subjects, they would create a copy and run it through tests."
"What sort of tests?" Kate asked.
"Simulations," Zelenka answered. "As though the patient was an AI in an artificial reality."
"Amazing," she breathed, oblivious to the dark look Sheppard shot her. "And Kezan was one such patient?"
"So it seems." Beckett squinted at the projector screen. "From what Radek's shown me so far, it seems scans were taken when a patient turned twenty-two. There are a number of files on Kezan's medical history which I'll need to look over with Kate, but from what I can tell he was already exhibiting early symptoms of schizophrenia and manic depression. Then with everything else…" And he paused.
Teyla's voice was soft. "To be trapped for hundreds of years."
Ford glanced from Teyla back to Beckett, then up at the projector screen. "But it's only like a disc, right? Just information!"
"Energy," Kate supplied. "Neurons firing in the right places. And yes, information. Contained in an organic brain or a piece of sophisticated technology, it amounts to the same." She had paled, one hand picking at the cuff of her sleeve. "It's impossible to imagine." She looked up, suddenly. "What happened to the original Kezan?"
"He killed himself," Zelenka said, and there was a curious lack of inflection to his voice. "Two months after the scan."
"And he knows."
"Doctor?"
Kate's jaw clenched. "Nothing I can say for definite," she said, tightly. "I will need to look at the files."
"A pretty crappy existence," Sheppard said, slightly impatiently. He might have felt sympathy, or horror at Kezan's existence, but he was still caught up in the shadows of the cell, and the plea from within. "But can we remember that he invaded McKay's head? How do we get him out?"
Zelenka and Carson exchanged an uncomfortable look. The Scot spoke first.
"The device SG-1 retrieved from the inventor Machello was little help." He shot an apologetic look at Ford. "I'm afraid even if the scientists in Area 51 had been able to discover how it worked, I doubt it would apply in this case."
"And we could not build one of our own," Zelenka added.
"But," Carson interrupted, before Sheppard's shoulders could slump, "while we were searching the SGC files Dr Weir found something else that might help us." He pulled a file from behind him, opening at a folded page and reading. "Several years ago a MALP was sent to an alien planet that was the home for a civilisation of non-corporeal beings. One transferred itself into the SGC computer and from there, into the brain of Major Carter. The medical report says that Major Carter's consciousness remained in a small portion of her mind while the entity was able to control her body."
"So how'd they get it out?" Sheppard demanded.
There was another exchange of uncomfortable looks. "We're not sure," Zelenka admitted, "but we believe it may involve electricity."
Weir raised her eyes from the file. "Electricity?"
"Yes." Carson sighed heavily. "The entity refused to leave Major Carter's body until Colonel O'Neill threatened its home world. It then appeared to flee, transferring energy into the SGC computer just before it was shot twice, with a zat gun."
"The Major's consciousness had been uploaded into the SGC mainframe," Zelenka continued, "And the entity was dead."
"Then Doctor Frasier was able to return the Major's consciousness back to her body." Carson hesitated. "She almost died, but it did work."
"Then can we not do the same for Doctor McKay?" Teyla questioned. "The machines of Atlantis are vast, and I assume more than capable of containing his essence."
"Rodney's ego?" Sheppard joked, only for his humour to abruptly die at the look shared by Carson and Zelenka. Soberly: "I'm guessing that's a no?"
"Not exactly," Carson admitted.
Elizabeth leaned forward, her elbows on the table top. "You mentioned electricity?"
"Yes." Another sigh. "Doctor Frasier theorized that the entity deliberately sent Major Carter's mind to the SGC in an attempt to protect its world. It would have continued to exist in Major Carter's brain had the zat gun blasts not killed it."
"Then we do the same for McKay," Sheppard guessed.
"No, Major." Carson looked suddenly haggard, one hand rubbing at the stubble across his chin. "Major Carter's mind only survived the effects of the zat because she had already been expelled willingly by the alien entity. From all we've seen so far, Kezan is not going to leave without a fight, and we can't risk trying the same level of treatment without risking irreversible damage to Rodney."
"However," Zelenka continued, "We believe a smaller dose of energy may disrupt the entity's control long enough for…" He hesitated, picking at the skin on his thumb nervously, "to give Rodney temporary control."
"What are we talking about here?" Weir asked, her voice pinched with concern.
"An electrical pulse sent directly into Rodney's brain."
Sheppard almost leapt up from the bench. "What?" he demanded. "Shock therapy? You've got to be kidding me!"
Beckett wouldn't look at him. "I don't like the term, but yes, that's essentially what this comes down to."
Elizabeth had paled, though her expression was tightly controlled. "How much are we talking?"
"A number of controlled bursts." Beckett raised his head to look at her. "Electroconvulsive therapy is an approved method of treating depression." Glanced at Sheppard. "I'm not about to subject Rodney to any medieval torture technique."
He sighed, shoulders slumping. "Sorry, Doc." Then tried to amend: "I know you're only doing your job. It's just -"
Carson's response was cold, tiredness and concern for his friend creeping into his voice. "I'm doing what I believe is best for Rodney, Major."
"And how long will this effect last?" Teyla asked.
There was another exchange of looks, a flurry of glances Sheppard was growing increasingly tired of. "I'm not sure," Carson admitted.
"Then is it worth it?" he shot back, regretting his volume when he saw Beckett flinch.
"I believe so," Zelenka interrupted, breaking the tension. "The truth is that despite all Rodney's boasts, he is the better man to solve this problem. I still have only basic idea of how to reconstruct the device, or how to put Kezan back within it. If McKay is aware of Kezan's actions then he will have seen its dismantling."
"What if he doesn't?" Ford asked.
"Kezan has displayed awareness of McKay's thoughts," Carson replied. "It's likely that it works both ways."
"But will Kezan not then realise what we are attempting to do?" Teyla asked.
"He didn't seem to remember when McKay gained control after the shock of the forcefield," Kate said, thoughtfully. "It seems that electricity separates their consciousness, allowing one personality to come to the fore over the other."
Elizabeth looked down at the papers before her, then back up at Carson.
"What risks does this carry?"
Another flinch. "It would be painful. Usually the patient is given anaesthetic before the procedure but given the circumstances I'm not sure whether even a muscle relaxant might not interfere with the process." He hesitated, and spoke reluctantly: "There are also a few potential side-effects. Memory loss, epileptic fits, brain damage –"
"Brain damage?" Sheppard was once again struggling to remain in his seat.
"There is a link between ECT and damage to the frontal lobes of the brain." Beckett's voice had steeled, as though he were reciting a medical journal. "Attention disorders, reduced attention span, loss of arithmetic and geometry knowledge, aphasia –"
Teyla looked confused.
"The inability to communicate or understand a language, written or spoken," Carson clarified. "It's common amongst stroke patients although in ECT studies the nature of the aphasia has –"
"Brain damage," Sheppard repeated, dully.
"It's a possibility."
Elizabeth was staring at the folder blankly. Spoke softly. "This isn't an easy decision. Not for any of us." She looked up at Beckett. "I want full details on the method and effects of this treatment."
He nodded, avoiding Sheppard's gaze.
"Doctor Zelenka, I need you and your team to continue examining the device. If there's another way of removing Kezan then I want to find it."
The Czech nodded, but looked doubtful, turning away to examine the hard drive.
"If we decide to go ahead with this, how long would it take you to set it up?"
Carson's shoulders moved in a small shrug. "I have all the equipment needed, but I'll need to prepare a room."
"Then tomorrow morning. We all need some sleep." And Elizabeth gave him a pointed look. "You included, Carson."
He nodded, and yawned, but Sheppard wasn't convinced.
"And until then?" Teyla asked.
He spoke up for Elizabeth, his mouth dry, the floor dropping away. "We keep McKay in the dark. We still can't tell him what we're doing."
"So," and Ford looked from Sheppard to Carson with wide eyes, "we just put him in the infirmary and –"
"It's an accepted form of treatment," Kate said, echoing Carson's words. "We can assure him of that."
"Kezan will fight it," Teyla warned.
"Aye." Carson released a long, heavy sigh. "Almost certainly."
"And McKay won't know what we're really trying to do," Aiden continued, and Sheppard wished the Lieutenant would stop.
"We'll get him back," he said, firmly. "Permanently."
He just wondered what it would cost.
