AUTHOR: Wraithfodder
WARNINGS: Violence, language, icky gross critters and some swearing.
See DAY ONE for disclaimers, copyright and other notes.
DAY FOUR
PART 41
The entire landscape outside the Ancient compound had been rearranged by the storm's fury. The ground, once thick with tiny shrubby vegetation, had been cleared in spots down to barren rocks and mud by the torrential rain of the evening before. Massive fronds and leaves from the treetops above were strewn about everywhere, but at least the pathway back to the gate looked moderately clear of large or hazardous debris.
Zelenka ducked back into the dome room, mindful not to slip on the thick coating of mud that now covered the entire floor. A dark, uneven pattern stained the entire wall around, up to a foot in height in some spots, indicating that storm waters had violently surged in there the night before. The only good news was that there was no sign of the large cat that had been staking out the facility since they'd arrived. No doubt the beast was far away, having sought safe refuge and high ground from the storm.
The door shut behind him and he placed the P-90 back on the countertop next to where Sheppard had placed his tactical vest. He had the feeling that those items were all they were going to take back with them. He'd stowed the laptops and their gear in the lab room. If he was right, someone could return later to retrieve it all, and if not, it would not matter.
In the lab room, Zelenka put on his own vest, hissing as the vest rubbed against his tender skin on the side of his neck. At least, if the scanner and blood tests were correct - and he had repeated the tests several times - he was not infected by the parasites and never had been. How ironic that it did seem that he had some alien form of poison ivy! He scratched at his lower back, cursing loudly in Czech at the misery. It did not matter if he woke up the major as that task was next on his agenda. The major had awoken only sporadically since he'd passed out. That initial action that had scared the wits out of Zelenka, but Sheppard hadn't been coherent enough to carry on a conversation. No, instead the major had groaned and just rolled over on the disheveled sleeping bag, trying in vain to find some comfort.
Zelenka popped open the metallic case on the counter next to his laptop, which was safely ensconced in its own case. He stared for a moment at the remaining vials and syringes, then removed only a few, stuffing them into his vest's pockets. If he was wrong about his conclusions, he knew that the major would not be returning to the compound. He stared uneasily at the remaining morphine ampoule in his hand before pocketing it, praying that they would not have to use the drug.
Someone was slapping him in the face. No. Didn't want to wake up. Staying in a coma was nice. He didn't want to return to the land of the living, as he knew that the misery would return with a vengeance. Had he been stuck on a rack? Sure felt like it. Hadn't that form of torture gone out in medieval times? The faraway voice that was slowly piercing the foggy haze sounded foreign. Russians? Why were Russians torturing him on a rack? A voice, heavily accented but definitely in English, called him by name.
"Major, please wake up."
"Why?" Sheppard realized that Zelenka was the fiend who was incessantly tormenting him. The floor felt good. Actually, it felt like crap, but the idea of getting up seemed too daunting. His head felt like it was going to explode.
"Because we are leaving."
"Huh?"
"To the gate," replied Zelenka. "Do you not remember our conversation of…? Never mind."
Obviously he didn't. Sheppard thought about what the scientist was proposing. "No. You go. Just send back someone."
"This is not the time for self-sacrifice and heroics," Zelenka replied in a rather exasperated tone. "Rodney told me all about those tendencies you exhibit. No, you are going to the gate if I have to drag you there."
"You may have to." Heroics? Sheppard seriously didn't think he could walk. The weakness he'd felt upon first awakening hadn't disappeared; if anything, it was increasing.
"I will not take 'no' for an answer." Zelenka sounded pissed. Sheppard decided he was spending too much time with Rodney, and that acerbic attitude was rubbing off like grease. Maybe he'd just show the Czech just how stupid the idea was, then Zelenka could go back to the gate, send back help. That was viable, right? The path was pretty well marked. "Uh, vest, P-90," he said.
Zelenka was silent for a moment. Sheppard heard him go to the outer room to retrieve the requested items. "You must get up if we're going to leave." Zelenka was just a foot away and he'd startled Sheppard, who was beginning to wonder which direction he had to move to sit up. The scientist carefully pulled him into a sitting position and Sheppard wobbled briefly, recovering from a wave of dizziness. Loss of blood, blow to head, parasites - he could sit there all day pondering which affliction had caused that annoying symptom. Zelenka handed him the vest and Sheppard fumbled with it, unable to find the armholes until Zelenka helped him. Zelenka put the P-90 in Sheppard's grasp and he held it, suddenly realizing he couldn't even find the clip to attach the weapon to his vest. He could do that in the pitch dark in a firefight, and he had, yet now… this was pathetic. Like a kid getting dressed by mom before being sent off for his first day of school. Zelenka zipped up the vest, then clipped the weapon to it without a word.
It took several minutes for Zelenka to haul him to his feet, and he knew if the counter hadn't been there for him to lean against he'd be flat on his face. All he could think of was how newborn foals staggered around the pasture a moment after they were born, but at least they got better at it.
"This is a bad idea." Sheppard felt one hand along the wall, while Zelenka slung the other arm over his shoulders as they headed toward the door.
"It would be worse to stay," replied Zelenka. The scientist's voice was practically in his ear, encouraging him to move, but all the words in the world wouldn't help if his legs collapsed out from under him like a poorly constructed bridge with a too-heavy load on it.
"Did I fall asleep on my hands?"
Zelenka paused. "No, not that I saw. Why?"
"Got that pins and needles feeling," he muttered. Sheppard braced his hand against the wall as he moved forward another few inches, but suddenly, the wall vanished and he found himself falling. Pain seared up his backside as he landed on something brittle and jagged that shattered underneath him before the floor abruptly stopped his descent. Luckily, Zelenka fell off to the side and not on top of him.
"Major, are you all right?" Zelenka asked in alarm.
"I'm here. Don't yell," Sheppard hissed in pain, trying to reach behind his back to remove whatever was poking viciously into him. "What the hell happened?" Silence greeted him. "Zelenka?"
"A closet," replied the scientist hesitantly, getting to his knees. "A closet full of… sticks."
Sticks? Like the ones Teyla used to beat him black and blue during those practice sessions? Why would scientists stack old sticks in a closet? He heard Zelenka moving about nearby, followed by the noise of something breaking. The scientist was muttering away in Czech again, but oddly enough, he didn't care what Zelenka was doing. Even lying on broken sticks, and being prone, was more inviting than being upright. If he could rest for just a moment…
"Oh no, you don't." Zelenka's sharp voice was loud as the scientist pulled him back up into a seated position.
"Sadist," mumbled Sheppard.
"You will thank me for this later," said Zelenka, dragging him back up to his feet. Sheppard wasn't sure of that. In fact, as another wave of dizziness washed over him and he steadied himself against the wall, he wondered how far he'd get before he'd simply drop dead.
PART 42
Zelenka had been glad of his decision to leave at first light. The sun's early morning rays had only just begun to illuminate the storm-ravaged forest when he'd dragged the pilot out of the compound.
Now, they were over halfway back to the gate, but the journey had been long and arduous. More and more, Sheppard was becoming a dead weight that Zelenka had to almost drag along, one difficult step at a time. They'd had to stop more times than Zelenka cared to remember, but there was nothing he could do. His threat to physically haul the major back to the gate did not ring true; Sheppard was simply too heavy for him to drag or carry for such a distance.
He did not like the fact that the sky was dreary and gray once more. He could only surmise they'd arrived during the monsoon season, if the planet had one. Both men were already soaked from the huge droplets of water that continually slid off the vegetation as they pushed their way through the dense foliage that had bent down under the storm's abuse.
Zelenka actually recognized the latest section of winding path. The storm's fury may have damaged the vegetation but it could not move the massive boulder they'd encountered earlier. They'd all studied a moss formation covering one side, and Lieutenant Ford had commented that it looked like the alien from the science fiction movie E.T. Major Sheppard had just glared at the younger man, which Zelenka found odd and bit disturbing, until he had looked at Teyla. The alien woman seemed quite amused as the two soldiers argued briefly over 'this obsession with naming things,' and Zelenka then realized this was their way of passing the time on missions.
Beyond the boulder was a slight dip in the path, which extended approximately one ninety feet, according to Sheppard. The gate was perhaps three hundred feet past that that dip. Encouraged by this information, Zelenka put more effort into dragging Sheppard up to the ridge, yet as the pair crested that point, Zelenka felt his hope for a speedy return home evaporate.
"Oh no."
Sheppard felt it first, before Zelenka's shocked words pierced his brain. The scientist's grip lessened on his arm. Sheppard couldn't fight gravity or the overwhelming fatigue that coursed through his body, and he collapsed to his knees, wincing at the jolt transmitted up his body and into his aching head. He didn't care which direction he fell after that and he pitched forward. He suddenly found his arms up to their elbows in water. A hand clenched into the back of his vest and instantly pulled him back.
"We have a problem," said Zelenka.
"Don't tell me we're lost," said Sheppard worriedly. They hadn't passed any bodies of water on their trips to and from the gate. How could they have gotten so far off the path?
"No, we are not lost," corrected Zelenka. "The path is flooded."
"What do you mean by 'flooded'?" asked Sheppard. "Do we need to book a cruise?" he added, trying to add some humor to the situation. He hoped the scientist was just exaggerating.
"I am not sure of its depth, but at least several feet deep," came the reply. "The rest of the path appears to be pick up again about two hundred feet away."
Okay. Could be worse. They could have to cross a lake; this sounded more like a pond. "What kind of water is it?" he continued, sliding down until he was flat on his back. He just needed time to get his strength back.
"It's… water," came the confused reply. "Brownish." He heard a splash. "Warm, thankfully."
"No, still or fast moving," elaborated Sheppard. "Toss in something, see if it's taken away." The rustle of the scientist poking around the nearby forest followed, then a splash echoed in the distance. After a moment, Zelenka proclaimed basically calm waters ahead.
Then, a pair of hands grabbed his vest: the standard procedure Zelenka used to haul him up. Sheppard dug a fist into the scientist's vest and struggled to his feet, until a massive bout of dizziness knocked him back to the ground. He could taste dirt in his mouth but what scared him had been the need for breath and the sudden rapid beat of his heart against his chest, like a trapped hummingbird trying to escape. The frightening sensation died down after a minute, leaving him fatigued and perhaps for the very first time since the parasites had attacked him, truly unsure of his own mortality.
Zelenka carefully rolled him over onto his back, and had he been able to see, Sheppard didn't doubt that the lingering fear would be reflected in his eyes.
"Major?" Zelenka sounded agitated.
"Still here." Sheppard swallowed. His throat didn't feel quite as bad as a couple hours ago. "For now."
"We do not have far to go." Zelenka was trying to reassure him.
"If I die, just leave me," said Sheppard abruptly.
"Excuse me?" Zelenka sounded angry. "You will not die."
"This may not be a choice I can make," said Sheppard darkly. He heard the scientist shift uneasily. "What do you mean?" asked Zelenka.
"Side effect of the parasite, something…" Sheppard shook his head imperceptibly as he felt a flash of dizziness go by. "Heart races a mile a minute, pass out. Can't be good. Getting weaker."
Silence greeted him, but Sheppard knew Zelenka was seriously mulling over the gravity of the situation. Instead, Zelenka said nothing, and hauled him back up to his unsteady feet.
As the pair trekked through the water, Zelenka assumed more of a lead position, calling out the hazards as he'd done since they'd left the Ancient compound – rock, root, branch. Warning Sheppard what to watch out for as he couldn't see the dangers himself.
They'd gone maybe fifty feet, he figured, and at that point the water had leveled off to mid-chest level. Every so often he'd feel debris bump into him – chunks of vegetation or small branches torn away by the storm. Zelenka shoved aside most of it as he continued doggedly toward the goal of dry land.
"This is not so bad." Zelenka actually sounded… cheery. In a way, it wasn't awful. At least the water's current was negligible at best, it wasn't cold, and it was easier to walk if the water helped keep him partially afloat.
"Reminds me of a few years ago," continued Zelenka. "Of my second cousin's basement. Well, he is more like 10th cousin removed and disowned after that disaster. Root, watch out," he added.
Sheppard felt his foot strike the upturned root, and carefully stepped over it. God, the headache was getting worse.
"No, much easier," asserted Zelenka.
Trapped on an alien world, sick as a dog, sloshing through flood waters. "Easier?" repeated Sheppard, wishing he could lie down. Trouble was, he'd drown.
"Yes, it was—" And Zelenka was gone, a splash cutting off his words.
Before Sheppard could shout, the ground beneath his feet dissolved and he was completely immersed under water. Fear gripped him. He kicked rapidly with both feet to reach the surface. Coughing and choking, he spat out the water that had threatened to invade his lungs. He greedily sucked in massive gulps of precious air. His feet couldn't find purchase on anything solid below and he felt himself sinking again, but kicked up, and began to tread water, but he knew he couldn't keep it up for long.
"Zelenka!" he shouted desperately.
The cry of some distance forest creature echoed back to him in the total blackness that was now his existence.
"ZELENKA!"
Oh god. It couldn't end like this. So damned close to home only for both of them to drown.
Fear gripped him as something wrapped around a leg and yanked him down.
PART 43
Overwhelming despair consumed Zelenka when Sheppard violently kicked his leg away. He had to get the man's attention or else he would drown several feet below the surface!
Zelenka bent back down, trying to extract his foot from the tangle of vines that held him trapped in their twisted grip. A second later, a hand touched his shoulder. Sheppard was beside him. He'd finally understood what had happened. Using his hands, Sheppard blindly felt his way down Zelenka until he came to the trapped foot. Although the water was a bit murky, Zelenka saw Sheppard pull his knife from its sheath. He could lose a foot! Zelenka quickly grabbed the soldier's wrist and knife, pushing upward against Sheppard, hoping the pilot would get the hint. He did. Sheppard relinquished his grip on the knife and shot back to the surface.
Zelenka followed seconds later, the offensive vine's grip severed by the sharp blade. He had never been so glad to breathe in oxygen in his entire life. "Major Sheppard!" Zelenka rapidly turned at a coughing sound, horrified to see the pilot several yards away and beginning to sink. He quickly swam over and grabbed Sheppard, dragging him back from where they'd come, until both their feet found secure purchase on ground again. With Sheppard's back against his chest, Zelenka wrapped both his arms around the man's chest to prop him up. Sheppard dropped the back of his head against Zelenka's shoulder in exhaustion.
"Thanks," he coughed.
"No problem."
"Think I'd rather have been stuck in your cousin's basement." Sheppard coughed again.
"Ah, no, no," argued Zelenka lightly, surveying the water before them, whose distance now seemed much more insurmountable than just a moment ago. "Prague flooded rather seriously a few years back. I was visiting at the time, and his basement was flooding horribly, and quickly. But he was obsessed with rescuing his insulator collection. What a fool! They are made of glass. They can stay underwater for ages with no ill effect. The man had three children. Such idiocy!"
"Did he make it?"
"Yes, by the skin of his teeth, I must admit. I think his wife was ready to drown him after that stupid act," recalled Zelenka. He waited for a sarcastic remark from Sheppard but none was forthcoming. He felt a minute slackening of Sheppard's body, and realized the man had passed out again.
He couldn't hold him like that forever. Sheppard's periods of unconsciousness lasted anywhere from several minutes to over an hour.
Zelenka frowned, worry eating away at him like termites devouring a house. This was not good at all. What would Rodney do? He thought hard – he didn't know what Rodney would do! This didn't involve Ancient technology or computers, just water, mud and trees.
Trees?
Zelenka studied the trees that sporadically erupted from the water all around him like a Louisiana bayou. So many of them were massive, their treetops actually towering into the low-lying clouds. There were younger trees, but not many. All the shrubs and vines were obscured by the water but, Zelenka thought, the plan that popped into his mind just might work.
Dragging Sheppard carefully, Zelenka began slowly making his way toward one of the smaller trees.
PART 44
Ford lay back on the bed, covering his face with one arm. He was tired and he hadn't done anything except just lie there like a useless lump on a log, or paced the room until Teyla had snapped at him.
The Athosian seemed to be taking their forced imprisonment in stride, except for that one brief moment. Right now, Teyla was conversing or communing or whatever with Halling. Months ago, Dr. McKay had made some crack about it being like a Vulcan mind meld, but he had suddenly found something incredibly fascinating to do in his lab when she'd wanted to know what that meant.
When the situation had turned dire, Teyla had requested that Halling be brought in from the mainland. The tall man with the piercing eyes had arrived a while ago, along with a few others, and Ford knew that Teyla and her people were holding some sort of ritual for both the major and Dr. Zelenka. He'd been invited to participate but he'd declined and gone to the other side of the room. He'd prayed until he'd run out of prayers to say, hoping against all hope that the major would somehow survive. He'd seen enough death in his life, from childhood friends who had joined gangs and died, to the members of various SGC teams who had never returned to base.
The entire city of Atlantis seemed to gone into some kind of weird stasis since the crisis began. Everybody was waiting. Life went on, but no missions were going out. Markham, when he'd brought down Halling and his people, had stayed and chatted for a while, but there wasn't much to say, so he'd eventually gone back to his post.
There were visitors in and out. Dr. Weir, stopping by to keep them up to date, and on her last visit, he'd apologized for his outburst about going back to the planet. She'd accepted it gracefully, realizing that they were all under a great deal of pressure.
Dr. McKay had come by a few times, and although he was a teammate, his visits weren't something Ford looked forward to. A cloud of doom seemed to hover over the scientist. Ford got the distinct impression that McKay blamed himself for the major's and Zelenka's predicament, but it was just bad luck. McKay had questioned both of them about their time on the planet, seeking any clue but they were tapped out as to why they weren't affected – at least yet.
Beckett or one of his people would come by and take blood samples to the point Ford had offered for them to just suck out a pint then and there and be done with it.
Wait. All they could do was wait – and it was driving him nuts.
PART 45
Zelenka sucked at the deep claw mark on his hand, cursing the large rodent that had inflicted the wound. He only hoped that the seeping blood would not attract any predators.
There was no way he could take Sheppard across the water to the dry land hundreds of feet away, not if the major passed out again. Then he'd spied a large piece of floating wood in the distance. It would be perfect for the task.
The only problem had been that the wood was already 'occupied.' A large rodent of some kind, a cross between a rat and a beaver, had made itself at home on top of it. The creature had to be at least twenty pounds.
Zelenka did not have time to seek out another piece of suitable wood. He'd left Sheppard alone and in a vulnerable state. So, he'd swum up to the wood and with a thin branch that fortunately floated by, started to force the rodent off the wood. However, the creature obviously believed in that old adage of 'possession is 9/10th of the law' and had fought back, squealing and snapping viciously as the branch struck it, until Zelenka finally had had enough and just punched the animal in the face. Its fat furry body landed in the water with a satisfying splash, and as Zelenka predicted, the creature had no problem swimming away, its long tail lashing angrily in its wake.
The chunk of wood was at least a foot thick, nearly five feet long and a couple feet wide. Black scoring scarred half of the wood, and Zelenka surmised it must have been blown off a tree by one of the fierce lightning strikes from the previous evening.
Zelenka stopped paddling as he heard it – a human voice – the only other one on the planet – yelling his name repeatedly in a loud mixture of panic and anger. Sheppard was awake! "I am coming!" he yelled, hoping his voice carried.
Within a minute he was back at the tree where he'd left Sheppard hanging – in the literal sense. He'd cut off a piece of one of the many vines that were dangerously obscured under the water and secured it to the clip on Sheppard's vest, then hoisted him up off a branch. It left the poor man with his head dangling back, arms out to the side, but Zelenka had worried if he'd tied the vine around his chest and Sheppard had somehow slipped out, he could have drowned. The idea had sounded simple enough but its inception had nearly pulled one of Zelenka's shoulders out of its socket.
"I am back," he announced in a loud voice. He didn't want to be struck again or shot. When he got close enough, he saw that his irrational fear was not groundless. Sheppard had one hand gripped firmly on the lethal weapon still clipped to his vest, finger on its trigger, the other hand clenching the vine.
"Where the hell did you go?" Sheppard's voice was strained. Zelenka instantly felt guilty. He couldn't imagine awakening, as Sheppard must have: blind, strung up to a tree like bait, and for all he knew, abandoned on an alien world.
"I am sorry, major." Zelenka searched his vest for Sheppard's knife. "I went to secure transportation."
"Just don't ever do--" Sheppard's outburst sputtered. "What?"
"Something that floats, which you can hold on to." Zelenka stared at the knife, grimacing. "I am going to cut you down. The water is just about chest deep here so do not worry." Sheppard merely nodded and a few seconds later, he landed with a noisy splash in the water. Zelenka quickly guided the piece of tree over beside Sheppard, who grabbed on to it like a life preserver. "Be careful of--" Sheppard yelped. "Splinters," finished Zelenka, wincing as Sheppard shook his hand. Yet the soldier continued to exam the object.
"Hold it, will you?" asked Sheppard. Zelenka braced himself against the wood, realizing within seconds what Sheppard planned on doing. It took a couple of tries, but the major managed to climb on board the wood, then laid face down and almost sighed in contentment. Zelenka frowned in annoyance. He'd tried several times to do just that but kept falling off.
"Home, Zelenka." Sheppard feebly waved a hand before it landed back in the water. The humor wasn't lost on Zelenka, but it was quickly overridden by an anxiety that he wondered if it would ever go away. The effort of just the past several minutes had leeched more color out of the major's face, and his breathing appeared more difficult. Of course, if he wasn't lying directly atop the P-90, he might be more comfortable, but Zelenka knew the major would not give up the weapon under any circumstance.
Zelenka made his way to the front of the wood. He laid his hand gently on Sheppard's nearby arm. "We are going now."
"Don't bother stopping for red lights," joked Sheppard.
"Hmmph," muttered Zelenka, willing to go along with it, but he would definitely not dawdle. "I will have you know that the meter is running." He waited for a response, but again, silence. He pressed his fingers against Sheppard's neck, finding the pulse, but he did not like what he felt. He pulled the alien scanner out of his pocket, unwrapped it from the protective baggie, and pressed one of Sheppard's hands against the device. He held his breath, but only the outline of the body was barely perceptible in the daylight. No red dots. His own touch yielded the same result. He'd been worried of a possible re-infection when they'd both fallen into the small room and… he tried not to think of what had happened to that man, whose skeletal remains Sheppard had crushed under his weight. Remains that he had called 'sticks.' He patted a lump in one of his vest pockets: he'd found a small device in the skeleton's grip. Perhaps it might yield more information on what the Ancients had been doing there.
Zelenka pushed the tree chunk and its precious cargo forward in the water, hoping they would make it back to Atlantis in time.
And that wretched rat thing or its cousins had better not get in his way.
PART 46
For the briefest moment, the sun had been bright and the water undulated in a soothing motion as he waited patiently on the surfboard. The perfect wave was just seconds away, and all he had to do was time it just right… then a hard pain dug into his back. The sun and the languid Hawaiian waters abruptly vanished as though they'd never existed, to be replaced by the alien walls of the Ancient compound, and he was digging his hands into his back, leaving welts and trails of blood, as he sought in vain to tear out the parasites.
The pain shifted, and he felt pressure on his shoulders and chest, heard a voice echoing in his ears. His entire body moved and the floating sensation disappeared as a hard irregular surface scored along the backs of his legs. He was being dragged. If he could only see… he reached out with one hand, striking a leg. He was lowered to the ground. His wounded back screamed in agony and he bit down on his lower lip, hoping the pain wouldn't signal a rise of the nausea that shadowed him constantly.
"Sorry." Zelenka again.
"Where?" It sucked being blind. He tried not to think about it, or at least tried to be positive that Beckett could do something.
"We have reached land at last." Zelenka sounded fried. "I think we will rest for a few minutes." Sheppard heard the scientist collapse to the ground.
He wasn't going to disagree. He could rest for hours or even days. The scent of wet dirt and vegetation drifted into his nostrils, a heady mixture compared to the sterile environment of Atlantis. No hum of computers, or distant crashing of waves on the city's base, just--
Sheppard froze. Whenever they'd been outside of the compound, they'd heard all sorts of animal life…birds, insects, and lord knows what else. He knew the creature that had howled several times in succession would have freaked out McKay, yet now… insects, some birds. Something wasn't right.
"Zelenka?"
"Yes?"
"Are we out of the water?" That wasn't right. "I mean, are we going through anymore?"
"No, it looks better," said Zelenka. "Remember, the gate was on high ground compared to the path."
High ground? Damn! During a flood, everything went to high ground. He felt his P-90; clicked off the safety. "We have to go."
"What?" Now it was Zelenka's turn to protest. "I have been dragging you since--"
"Now." Sheppard knew he'd snapped the word out in a harsher tone than intended. He rolled over to one side, groaning at the multitude of aches that just had to make themselves known. He managed to get to his hands and knees, but fell when he attempted to stand. Zelenka caught him and held him by his shoulders.
"You must rest, if just for a moment."
"No," insisted Sheppard, hands clenching Zelenka's vest for support. "Have to get to the gate. Now."
The last word had been a plea, Zelenka recognized, one bordering almost on desperation. As if to punctuate that request, Sheppard sagged forward, his forehead resting wearily against the scientist's shoulder.
Zelenka hurt. His feet hurt, his back was in misery and his shoulders felt like he'd had a yoke pressing across them for hours on end. He knew the pain was transitory, and that the itch that had been temporarily soothed by the water and mud they'd had to cross was not life-threatening. Sheppard's breathing was becoming labored, and even Zelenka could feel slight tremors shudder through the man's body. The major was moving forward only by sheer will, and even that might be fading.
"We will go now," agreed Zelenka. Sheppard nodded weakly.
If they'd been able-bodied, Sheppard would have been in the lead and they'd have been back at the gate within ten minutes if not less. As it was, it took them nearly half an hour. The storm damage didn't help. Zelenka had to pause several times to clear aside large branches that blocked their path.
Sheppard remained strangely quiet and was tense. He seemed distracted, and Zelenka worried that the next time Sheppard succumbed to unconsciousness, it might be his last.
Another water-soaked patch of large fronds draped down into the path and Zelenka pushed them away, complaining in Czech when one of the serrated edges nearly sliced his finger.
"My god," he muttered, stopping in his tracks. Sheppard lifted his head, his bandaged eyes automatically trying to seek out the source of Zelenka's astonishment.
The Czech blinked again. The gate and DHD were an extremely welcome sight but that was not what had torn the words from his lips. One of the huge trees that bordered the area close to the gate – and that had prevented them from taking a puddle jumper through – had been taken down by the storm. Its sheer volume had caused a domino effect. At least two other huge trees had been broken or uprooted, their massive trunks now reaching out over a hundred feet at horizontal angles into the shattered woods. That must have been the odd crashing noise he'd heard after the tremendous lightning strike. Somewhere in that mess of destruction was the P-MALP, probably squashed flatter than a pancake.
"The gate," he murmured aloud, feeling Sheppard's one hand grip into his shoulder.
"We're there?" Sheppard's voice was nearly a whisper.
"Yes," Zelenka grinned broadly.
"About time," Sheppard sighed. "Dial us out of here."
Within minutes they were at the DHD pedestal. Zelenka was too nervous to continue talking. There were so close to returning home, but he worried that at the last minute, some huge snake would fall out of a tree, or a Wraith dart would show up and suck them up to a hideous death.
As Zelenka punched in the symbols, Sheppard disengaged himself from the scientist. "You're sure the parasites are gone?" Sheppard swayed slightly on his feet, then leaned faintly against the scientist.
"Yes." Zelenka pressed the 'send' button, and the gate's chevrons began to light up. At least he truly hoped so. The force field would be the final test.
"If anything happens to me, you go through the gate. Understood?" Sheppard now had his back to the DHD. Zelenka frowned as he saw the soldier's finger on the P-90's trigger.
"Major?"
"That's an order," came the curt reply.
The vortex flared out, its glowing blue flux never so beautiful as it was at that exact moment. Zelenka was not leaving Sheppard behind, no matter what order was dictated. The only thing that would prevent Sheppard from returning would be the field, and if it came to that – if Zelenka was somehow wrong about the parasites – his hand lightly touched the tiny lumps in his vest pockets that were the morphine ampoules. He truly did not want to think of it.
PART 47
Peter Grodin ran both hands down his face, wishing he could wipe away the weariness that he could no longer shake with mere snatches of sleep he'd managed since the crisis had begun, but he was positive he was doing better than McKay. He seriously doubted the astrophysicist had caught even a single wink of shut-eye. Grodin shot a furtive glance at McKay, who was seated only a couple consoles away. He was hunched over, hands against his face. He could be thinking, or sleeping, but most likely he was worrying, and waiting until the MALP was sent through.
Grodin wasn't sure how much more loss Atlantis could sustain. It seemed like only yesterday that he'd been trapped with Dr. Weir and others in the control room, listening to his colleagues die horribly one by one from that alien nanovirus. Perhaps because it was yet again another unseen alien organism that conspired to take away their friends that made the situation so difficult.
He actually missed the lumpy brownies that Dr. DuMais has insisted on baking for Dr. Carlson's birthday. They were pretty bad – not that she wasn't a good cook – but she'd had to make do with some alien ingredients that just didn't turn out quite right.
There were instances like that which he'd remember of those expedition members they'd lost, but sometimes the faces blurred, and the features softened as time passed.
He couldn't conceive of Atlantis without either Radek or Major Sheppard. A deep sigh filtered over from McKay. Neither could he.
Elizabeth stared at the computer screen as the words blended together, losing their meaning, like ink running down the printed page. She closed down the file. No, she couldn't look at it until … she shook her head, wishing she could erase those morbid thoughts. Glancing at her watch, she realized it would not be long before they sent the MALP through. The waiting was interminable but when the storms cleared and they made contact – and none could be established – she would have to list both men as missing in action, presumed dead.
The gate's emergency klaxons pierced the glass walls of her office and her eyes immediately shot toward the gate. A chevron lit up. She bolted from her chair, Peter's cry of "incoming wormhole!" barely finished as she rushed to the communications area to stand between Grodin and Rodney.
"Kill those alarms," she ordered.
Security personnel positioned themselves around the base of the large circular gate.
She tapped her earpiece. "Carson, we need a medical team up here now." Turning to Peter, she added. "On the speaker."
Silently, she prayed for good news. No other teams were out. This had to be Zelenka. One of them still had to be alive.
The gate snapped into existence, but before she could speak, an accented voice echoed over the speakers. "—is this way. Rodney said you had no sense of direction."
"Radek," Rodney hissed under his breath, hope springing to his eyes.
Another voice, dimmed by distance and fatigue, echoed. "Rodney talks too much."
"Major!" Rodney stood up, wincing as he bashed his knee into the underside of the console.
"Rodney?" Zelenka sounded confused. "Atlantis! We are coming home. We found a cure."
"Thank god," Elizabeth whispered under her breath, clutching her arms to her chest, then nodded to Peter. "Lower the shields."
"Cure?" repeated Rodney slowly. He looked too shocked for his mind to comprehend the good news.
"Yes, yes, we'll explain when we come home," responded Zelenka. "What?"
"What what?" said Rodney.
"Sssh," came Sheppard's voice. "Don't move."
"Major?"
"Shut up!" he hissed.
McKay shot a worried glance at Weir. "What the hell is going on?"
Elizabeth shook her head, just as confused at the sudden turn of events.
"Major, doctor—" she began, but Zelenka's voice cut her off. "What is—?"
"Go." Sheppard's voice was loaded with urgency. "NOW!"
A yell… followed by the loud retort of P-90 gunfire blasting over the speakers. Weir took a step back in shock and then instinctively ducked when several bullets came through the event horizon, ricocheting off the gateroom's high ceiling.
"Oh my god," she choked out.
PART 48
Zelenka sat up in a flash, his mind still reeling from the unexpected attack. He quickly patted down his body, horrified that he might find a tattooing of bullet holes, but fortunately the major had missed him.
The terrifying vision of that huge cat erupting from the dense foliage by the gate had shocked him, but not as much as Sheppard – who had clearly been aware that the predator had been stalking them but hadn't thought to mention that fact to him. Sheppard had just yelled, knocking him back as he brought up the P-90 and fired it in a wide arc just as the cat lunged and—
Gunfire, a scream – his own, he realized – and the burst of that awful force field.
Zelenka turned quickly, wincing as another muscle in his sore back protested the sharp movement. Sheppard lay sprawled out on the stones just a few feet away. Oh no.
A rapid check allayed Zelenka's fears that the major was dead. Sheppard was just stunned or knocked out from the blow. It didn't matter, Zelenka realized. He was still breathing, but blood streamed from his nose. The black tactical vest showed several large, ragged tears where the cat's claws had struck the major high on the chest. Zelenka let out a sigh of relief when he found that the skin beneath the cloth had been spared being torn by the animal.
Zelenka immediately tapped at his earpiece, startled to find it gone. It must have fallen off when he'd been knocked over. It didn't matter. He'd just drag the major through the horizon.
Just as he reached down to Sheppard's prone form, disaster struck.
The gate shut down.
An ominous growl pierced the air.
Looking past the major's feet, Zelenka gulped in horror through his skewed glasses as his eyes met the dangerous, glittering orbs of one extremely angry cat that was bleeding from several ragged bullet wounds across its shoulder. The massive feline hissed and then began to head toward the two men.
"Dial them back!" ordered Elizabeth.
Peter Grodin began punching in the symbols for the planet. Rodney sat glued to his chair at the communications post, staring in undisguised anxiety at the gate.
Elizabeth clenched her fists together. This couldn't be happening. They'd been right at the gate and Zelenka said they'd found a cure so both men could return home. Gunfire meant only one thing – an attack. Wraith? Wild animals? Or had the cure been tenuous at best, and had Sheppard succumbed to the insanity that had claimed some of the Ancients' expedition?
She watched as the symbols began locking in on the massive circle below. It was too slow, way too slow.
"No-no-NO!" Zelenka uttered in complete panic. "Major, let go of the gun!"
Sheppard was barely conscious, but he had a steadfast grip on the P-90 that was still clipped to his tactical vest. It would be a death grip if that cat got to them! The animal's angry roar filled the air, startling a group of brightly colored birds out of the treetops above.
"No. Move," moaned Sheppard, his grip increasing on the weapon.
What a lousy time for the major to decide to save them both!
Zelenka abandoned his effort to retrieve the more powerful gun and instead pulled his .9mm out of his holster. The cat paused in its tracks and bared its large white incisors at him, eerily confident that its teeth were more than a match for a mere bullet. Zelenka took aim at the cat's skull, his vision blurring momentarily as a bead of sweat ran into one eye. What if he missed? What if the bullet bounced off the skull? A veterinarian friend once told him cats had incredibly strong skulls. What if one bullet wasn't enough? The major had already shot the beast several times and still it could get to its feet.
He aimed the gun again, praying that it would work.
A brilliant flash of red blinded him for a brief moment. He staggered back, blinking but aiming the gun haphazardly across the gate's base with shaky hands.
The cat lay several feet away, on its side, stunned and panting heavily. Zelenka stared at the animal, realization dawning. The parasite must be in the animals as well. This meant that the cat would not be able to reach them. The force field had repelled it. They were safe. He reholstered the gun and returned to Sheppard, shaking him gently by the shoulders. When he awoke, the major could shoot the cat – which seemed the humane thing to do as it was already grievously injured – and then they could dial back home.
The gate began to activate.
Zelenka looked up in horror as the blue symbol almost directly above him illuminated. "No."
Zelenka looked down at the base of the gate. The cat was already back on its feet and it was in full pissed-off mode, growling and hissing.
It was then that he realized that the DHD was on the wrong side of the force field - the side that the cat was impatiently beginning to pace back and forth along.
Another symbol lit up. They had just seconds until they were disintegrated into atoms.
Zelenka immediately grabbed Sheppard and dragged him out of the path of the gate's soon-to-arrive vortex, but he couldn't move him far, not with the force field parameters restricting their movement. If even a sleeve poked past that field, the cat could yank him away. Worse, the animal seemed to understand that too, and it prowled close to the edge, studying Sheppard as if he were a morsel to be devoured.
A wisp of hysterical laughter escaped from Zelenka's lips as it came to him that he'd been right; Sheppard was free of the parasite, but now the gate might end up being their demise!
Another symbol locked in.
Zelenka locked eyes with the cat, just a yard away, and realized with startling clarity that there was another option. He stood up, drawing the cat's attention away from Sheppard's prone form, and ran directly in front of the Stargate.
Elizabeth let out a breath of relief as the gate's final symbol locked down and the event horizon stabilized. "Rodney, the MALP?" She looked over at the scientist, who nodded grimly. "In just a minute," he replied darkly. She acknowledged his words with a slight tilt of the head as she pursed her lips tightly together before speaking into the radio. "Dr. Zelenka, Major Sheppard? Please respond. What is happening?"
Silence greeted her ears, eating away at her hopes like fire devouring a sheet of paper. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rodney drop his head in despair over the fate of his friends.
PART 49
Zelenka removed his arms from where he'd placed them over his head in a protective manner, very much like in those 'duck and cover' nuclear bomb instructional movies from the 1950s. The whoosh of the gate's destructive flux seemed deafening at such close quarters, or maybe that noise was just the pounding of his own heart beating furiously within his chest.
He rose out of the crouch he'd tucked himself into, then glanced across the stones to the other side of the gate. Sheppard remained motionless where he'd been left. A more panicked survey of the gate area indicated that the cat remained, or rather, its remains could be seen. A long furry orange-red tail lay on the ground, just out of reach of the gate's vortex. In front of it, placed in almost perfect proximity, were two hind feet. Well, the paws really.
Zelenka smiled in deep satisfaction for the first time in several days. He knew that Newton's third law would not fail him. He scratched at his side again. He could not wait to see Beckett, even if meant needles! He cocked his head. A strange tinny noise, like some robotic insect, was emanating from the ground in front of the gate. He crawled over to the area, searching carefully through the stones and weeds. "Ah ha!" he cried, pulling up his missing earpiece. Weir's anxious voice was repeating like a distress beacon.
"We are all right," he replied, not letting Weir finish. "Please shut the gate down so we can dial out. Have Beckett waiting."
Weir began asking questions but Zelenka cut her off again. He felt bad about doing that but his desperation to get home overrode his natural politeness. "Please, shut the gate down." A moment later, the event horizon disappeared. Zelenka knelt down next to Sheppard, who was slowly regaining his wits. "…get it?" he asked hazily.
"Yes, major, you got the cat," Zelenka smiled.
"Go." Sheppard waved a bloody hand weakly in the direction of the gate.
"We will," Zelenka placed his hand in a reassuring gesture on the major's shoulder. "We go together."
Sheppard lolled his head to the side. Zelenka could tell that the man was fading back to unconsciousness. "We?"
"Yes, you are on the other side of the force field," replied Zelenka. "The parasites are gone."
"Cool."
"Exactly," agreed Zelenka. As he stood to go back to the DHD, a hand brushed against his leg. He knelt back down, concerned. "Major?"
"Do I smell barbecue?" asked Sheppard.
Zelenka arched an eyebrow as he studied the wisps of smoke still trailing from the smoldering fur of the cat's feet. "I'm afraid it's over," Zelenka said with regret.
"--'s okay," murmured Sheppard. "Not hungry anyway."
PART 50
A sharp pain had stabbed Zelenka in his lower back just seconds after he'd dragged Sheppard back through the gate. He collapsed to the hard floor, unable to stop himself from gasping upon impact. The major's body landed across his ankles, pinning the scientist to the floor.
He was only peripherally aware of the shouts and sounds of running feet headed in his direction. Instead, he checked Sheppard's pulse again, worrying that all the suffering might have been in vain. Thank God. Still alive. Zelenka bowed his head, the accumulated stress of the past few days beginning to hit him. He abruptly realized just how awful he and the major must look. Torn uniforms, dirt and other gunk adhered to their bodies from their hellish trip back to the gate. Blood. The P-90 must have struck Sheppard in the face when the cat attacked him. The bandages covering the major's eyes were what caused a twisted pain in his gut. Would Sheppard survive this ordeal, only to be blind?
He sensed a presence at his side, caught the flash of blue. It was Beckett, clad in one of the too familiar HazMat suits, but without a helmet. There was no indication that that parasite exhibited any airborne qualities but they still needed to play it safe.
"I will be fine." Zelenka scratched furiously at one side, wincing as the new pain flared up in his back. "Please, the major."
Beckett had already turned his attention to Sheppard, barking orders to the rest of the blue-suited team. Sheppard was carefully placed on a waiting gurney and Zelenka found himself lifted and placed on another gurney. Within seconds, they were being whisked out of the gateroom.
He heard Rodney arguing vehemently with Beckett, but the physician won out. Zelenka caught a glimpse of Dr. Weir and Rodney standing back, reluctantly obeying Beckett's concerns about 'possible contamination.' Zelenka wasn't sure what to do except offer a quick grin and a thumbs-up gesture to let them know he would be all right, just like they did in the movies. It was inane. Both Weir and Rodney responded with brief and tenuous smiles, although Zelenka knew it would take a lot more to reassure Rodney of both his and the major's well-being than that simple gesture.
Atlantis' ceilings were boring. He had a rapid view of that aspect of the city as they headed toward the infirmary. It was far preferable to the overly concerned looks the medical personnel on either side of the gurney were giving him, and the questions they kept asking him all sorts of questions about how he felt and what had happened. He felt like an insect about to be pinned to a collector's board, or worse.
Beckett's people were ready for them. Although his gurney was only seconds behind Sheppard's, by the time he was wheeled into the infirmary, a team had already transferred the unconscious man to a bed. They were cutting off his bedraggled uniform at a speed that put to shame an over-eager child ripping apart presents on Christmas morning.
Zelenka found himself transferred to a bed not far away from Sheppard. He swatted away someone's attempt to start removing his clothing. He had to see what was happening with the major!
A second later, he got his wish. The medical personnel around him parted as Beckett came over. Zelenka heard the last of Sheppard's uniform hit the floor, then the brief flutter of a sheet as it was laid down across Sheppard's naked form. EEG leads were being attached to his too-pale chest and someone was prepping his arm for an I.V.
Beckett blocked his view, and another doctor, someone he didn't recognize, tall, with thinning blond hair and a pointed nose, stood next to him. "Radek, you're a sight," grinned Beckett.
"The major? Will he be all right?" Zelenka didn't like that he sounded almost panicked, but he didn't care at this point.
"We need to know everything possible about Major Sheppard's condition. What can you tell us?" asked Beckett.
How could he condense days' worth of symptoms and horror just like that? Zelenka drew a steadying breath, forced himself to go into scientist mode, rambling off as best as he could recollect precisely how the major's condition had escalated and then deteriorated. And then he got to the injection, the vomiting and, worse, the eye drops, offering his theory to the two men who listened intently to him.
"It is the only logical explanation," continued Zelenka fervently. He'd had hours to think about back on the planet. "I had the pink eye. Lieutenant Ford and Teyla both had the pink eye. The major did not. The drops must be lethal to the parasite."
Stanson, the sharp-nosed doctor, studied the tiny bottle that Zelenka had withdrawn from his vest. "But you all finished your regimen right before you went to that planet. You couldn't have sustained a buildup of--"
"I used the drops several times on the planet," admitted Zelenka with a guilty expression. "Each day, in fact. My eyes felt gritty and I did not wish to risk a reoccurrence of the pink eye."
Beckett shook his head briefly in disdain, but no doubt he was used to having patients disobey instructions. "And so you kept the drug in your system."
"You think the eye drops killed the parasites?" Stanson looked skeptical. "A few drops--"
"The major did not measure it out in drops," interjected Zelenka darkly. "He was desperate. He poured them in. His reaction was … bad." Zelenka shuddered briefly as the horrible memory of Sheppard's screams - and his almost successful attempt to tear out his eyes - came to the forefront of his memory. He felt a gloved hand steady him on his shoulder. "It was then that he sustained the head injury," continued Zelenka. "He was unconscious for over an hour, but when he came to, the itch had dissipated, but he was sicker than after the injection. The scanner showed a rapid decline of the parasite population, then eventually, they were gone."
Stanson pulled away as a nurse came up to him with some equipment, which Zelenka recognized. He was the base's resident ophthalmologist, or at least the expert. Both he and the nurse melded into the personnel still working on Sheppard. Zelenka heard the metallic sound of scissors being picked off a tray. Not once had he peeked under the bandages, even after they'd been soaked by the flood water, for fear of what pain he might cause the major, and the overwhelming anxiety that what he might uncover would be too much to bear.
"How sick did the major become after the injection?" Beckett asked. Zelenka responded, realizing as he explained the constant nausea, the cramps, tingling, increasing weakness and bouts of unconsciousness, that it all might be much more serious than he had envisioned. He tried to describe Sheppard's concern over his heart rate - the proper word escaped him so he had to quickly tap his fingers over his own heart - "arrhythmia," said Beckett. The physician's blue eyes seemed to darken like a storm cloud and he called over a young woman. "I want a serum potassium level on Major Sheppard yesterday. Run BUN and creatinine, glucose, magnesium and calcium, a full CMP, a CBC, and an ABG." She nodded efficiently and departed.
"Will Major Sheppard survive?"
"The major's a fighter," responded Beckett. "If I have anything to say about it, he'll be complaining about the choice of Jell-O in a few days."
"You may wish to see the scanner." Zelenka reached for it, but panic consumed him when he discovered that it and his vest were gone. "My vest. I had it. Where is it!" A nurse's hand extended from the side and the damp vest was suddenly in his lap. Was he so exhausted that he hadn't realized that people were undressing him as he sat? He noticed his shoes and socks were gone, but he shook his head, digging into the pockets, dumping out items he didn't need. A syringe hit the floor, then he dumped out the morphine. He caught Beckett's dark glance but ignored it, finding the triangular scanner. He withdrew it from the bag, touching his finger to the indentations. Beckett watched as the blue outline of a human body formed on the small screen. "Red dots indicated the parasites. They faded, then vanished as the parasites died." Zelenka looked up at Beckett, who offered a reassuring smile. "Can you get this to Rodney? Perhaps there is a backup, and we can follow the progression? Oh!" He frantically searched his pockets, pulling out the other baggie. The smaller rectangular device. "Rodney should have this, too. It could hold much information."
Beckett took both devices, but froze as Zelenka finished. "I found that one with the body."
"Body?" Beckett looked stricken. Zelenka noticed a level of silence envelope the room and that people were looking at him.
"Not really a body. The skeleton, in the small room we discovered by accident." Zelenka frowned because Beckett seemed speechless. "It was a skeleton. It practically crumbled to dust when the major fell on it."
"You had contact with it?" Beckett almost choked.
Zelenka had no idea why Beckett was acting so perturbed. "Surely there is no worry about disease after what has probably been centuries?" Zelenka shook his head, then knocked a fist against one side of his head. Ah, finally: the water flowed of that ear. "We spent nearly an hour in swamp water and probably swallowed half of it. I'd be more worried about that."
"Could he have gotten any of the water in his lungs?" Beckett asked quickly.
Zelenka considered it. "Perhaps?"
"Bloody hell."
PART 51
"And so help me, if Rodney tries to step one foot in here, I will stab him with the biggest needle we have and keep him sedated for a week and let the nurses practice sponge baths on him," Beckett had warned over the speaker.
Luckily, that threat had been transmitted on Elizabeth's office speaker, and not all over the communications area. Rodney had heard it all, of course, since he was right there, and at first he'd looked mortified, then angered, but the threat had deflated his determined idea of hobbling down to the infirmary to check on his friends.
The communications staff were all back at their stations now, quietly speculating amongst themselves just what happened on the planet and if the two men would recover from their injuries. Only a skeleton staff had remained at their posts when the men came through the gate – a precaution against contagion. A crew had just finished 'sanitizing' the floor in front of the gate. The air reeked faintly of bleach or something similar. Couldn't be too careful with parasites, she'd been told.
Elizabeth quietly entered Rodney's lab. Denied access to the infirmary, feeling utterly useless in the communications area, the scientist had retreated to the place he felt most secure. She'd told him to get some sleep, but then Beckett had passed along that little Ancient bit of technology Dr. Zelenka had discovered, and any thoughts of sleep had flown out the window for Rodney. She'd been tempted to take it away, and force him to sleep, but knew that wouldn't work, especially if there was something useful on the device.
A heartfelt smile touched Weir's lips. Rodney was seated on his stool in front of the computer. His head lay atop his folded arms, which rested on the counter. Finally, he was getting some sleep.
"Not asleep," he murmured, as if he could read her mind. He raised his head. His eyes had that owlish look of someone who desperately needed rest but refused to get it. He fixed his stare on her, then alarm strained his features. "What? Did something happen? Are they-?"
"They're fine," she interrupted quickly, hoping those words were true.
Rodney glanced at his watch. "It's been hours!"
And Elizabeth knew that Rodney no doubt had it down to the second. "Carson said he'd let us know."
Rodney assumed a sour expression. "No news is good news."
"Yes," she nodded.
He fixed his surly stare on the computer monitor. "The encryption on this one is worse than the files Radek sent back to us. Maybe paranoia was one of the late symptoms."
She wished that Rodney would focus on the positive side of the situation. God knew it was nearly impossible to rid herself of the vision of what Sheppard and Zelenka had looked like upon their return. Even from a distance – as Beckett's team had kept everyone away – the poor scientist had looked awful. Half his face was covered in huge red splotches. Beckett had quarantined the two men after seeing that condition, not that he hadn't planned on that course of action already. And Sheppard had … she shuddered when she thought back. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Elizabeth had feared that Dr. Zelenka had merely dragged the major's corpse back home through the event horizon.
When she'd told Lieutenant Ford and Teyla the good news, they'd practically jumped for joy, despite the fact that Beckett still had no news on their condition. Even Halling and his people, who were still talking with Teyla, were thrilled to hear of the two men's return.
"Beckett's got state of the art equipment, even Ancient contraptions!" Rodney stabbed a few fingers deliberately at the keyboard. "You would think—"
"Wait." Elizabeth tapped her earpiece. "Carson?"
Rodney sat up straight on the stool like a trained dog. He tapped his earpiece as well. "Carson, are they all right?"
"Ach, good. I've got the two of you," came Beckett's strong brogue. Evidence that he was dead tired as well. "Condensing it in a nutshell, the both of 'em should be right as rain in a matter of time."
Elizabeth smiled, but noticed that anxiety still hovered palpably over the scientist.
"The major's eyes?" broached Rodney.
Even Elizabeth worried about that. Seeing that bloody bandage wrapped around Sheppard's head had scared her. If he were blind… she didn't want to think of the psychological repercussions. Sheppard lived to fly. He couldn't fly if he was blind.
"Still there," assured Beckett. "He had a reaction, probably to both the parasites and the cure."
"Thank god the Ancients didn't destroy everything there," said Elizabeth.
"The cure wasn't from the Ancients," countered Beckett. "Dr. Zelenka had it on him all the time."
Rodney frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Dr. Zelenka's theory, which is about as good as we can devise since we can't experiment with the little buggers, is that the eye drops killed them."
"Eye drops?" Rodney was confused.
"The ones you avoided having to take because you locked up your lab as tight as a castle about to be stormed by Wallace," said Beckett dryly.
"How do eye drops for pink eye kill parasites?" wondered Elizabeth.
"I'll let Dr. Branford fill you in on the details, but antibiotics can be lethal to parasites. We use them all the time on earth to combat malaria and such," answered Beckett. "Quite honestly, it could have been a combination of the injection the major took and the eye drops, but the fact that both Lieutenant Ford and Teyla are still exhibiting no signs of infection seem to be empirical proof of Dr. Zelenka's theory."
"So Lieutenant Ford and Teyla can be released?"
"We're just going to double-check on our findings," replied Beckett. "But yes, they should be set free tomorrow."
"You make it sound like you're releasing animals back to the wild," said Rodney somewhat sarcastically.
"I can't say either one are happy about being stuck in isolation," said Beckett in a weary undertone. "Especially with all the blood samples we've had to take." He coughed. "Major Sheppard is going to be our guest for several days. He had a concussion, dehydration, hyperkalemia and some pretty nasty scratches, but we've run every test we can and he is parasite free."
"Hyper-what?" asked Elizabeth.
"Hyperkalemia," repeated Beckett. "That's excess potassium in his body. From what we've been able to determine, the rapid destruction of the parasites from the antibiotics caused cell membrance lysis. In simple English, it caused potassium to flush from his cells to where it shouldn't be. We're correcting that with I.V. solutions as well as flushing his system, and it fortunately it appears we caught it in time before any deleterious cardiac or respiratory effects could occur. And luckily, he didn't inhale any water so his lungs are clear. A case of pneumonia on top of what he already would be bad."
Elizabeth looked at McKay, who looked both confused and appalled at the lengthy explanation.
Beckett continued. "Dr. Zelenka never even had the parasites, apparently, but he does have a few pulled muscles in his back."
"But?" sputtered Rodney. "Radek looked awful. What's wrong with him?"
"Worst case of systemic toxciodendron that I've ever seen, not that I've seen a lot, mind you."
"Oh god, what is that?" Rodney looked ready to keel over.
"Poison ivy," said Beckett. Elizabeth could have sworn she heard a smile behind that reply as he gave the layman's term, but even those two words made the astrophysicist visibly cringe. Seeing as how Rodney had so many allergies, poison ivy was probably one of them. "He looks pretty nasty," continued Beckett. "And the vesicles are beginning to erupt, but it's not lethal, just painful. No wonder the poor man thought he had the parasite."
"When can we see them?" asked Elizabeth.
"If all goes well, you can drop by tomorrow."
"Tomorrow!" burst out Rodney.
"Yes, tomorrow, the day after today, and I don't mean midnight," said Beckett sarcastically. "And that's just for a brief visit after nine in the morning. We're still treating them. I have no doubt that the major will still be unconscious after all he went through. From what I can gather from Radek, neither man managed barely a wink of sleep on that planet and they're utterly exhausted."
"Understood," acknowledged Elizabeth.
"And you," Beckett warned. "That means you, Rodney. If you want visiting privileges tomorrow, I want to see you well rested with at least eight hours of sleep."
"I have work to do," argued Rodney, rubbing a hand over bleary eyes. "I need to analyze the data that Radek—"
"Rodney, make a choice," offered Beckett abruptly. "Analyze centuries-old data that in all likelihood isn't going to change a damned thing here, or visit the major and Radek tomorrow. Choose."
McKay sputtered helplessly as he looked longingly at the computer monitor.
"I'll make sure he gets to his room," Elizabeth smiled.
Just as McKay grabbed his crutches, two figures appeared at the entrance to the lab.
"Sergeant Carstairs, Dr. Rydell," said Elizabeth. "Can we help you?"
"I'm here to watch the computer," said Rydell, scratching at his mop of dark hair.
Rodney suddenly looked livid and he gawked at Carstairs. "Carson, you sent an armed guard to take me to my room!"
"Of course not, laddie," Beckett's grin easily translated over the radio. "He's there to make sure you stay put in your room. I know you'll try to sneak out in the middle of the night to check on your data, and quite frankly, I have two patients too many as it is."
Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh when McKay muttered some not very friendly words under his breath as he quickly typed something into his computer before he hobbled out of the lab, followed by a grinning Carstairs, who'd brought along a book to while away the time.
NEXT: DAY FIVE!
