Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters to Stargate Atlantis, nor am I making any type of profit from this story. It is a work of fan fiction, for enjoyment only.
Just a Case of the Flu
By Kerr Avon
"We're supposed to do what, sir?" Ford looked at his commanding officer in disbelief.
"You heard me. On Beckett's recommendation, Weir has ordered us to go check out the Athosian settlement and bring back blood samples from any animals they might have living with them, particularly if they appear sick." Sheppard was amused by the young man's hesitancy.
For his own part, Ford was pretty shaken up with the request; shades of his recent brush with the nanovirus kept surfacing in his mind. He didn't mind dying - after all, he was a Marine. No, what he objected to was dying from something he couldn't see.
Sheppard put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Ford, no time like the present to get back on that horse." When the Lieutenant looked at him like he'd lost his mind, he grinned cockily.
"I am sorry - what does mounting a pack animal have to do with gathering blood samples that could cure my people?" Teyla wanted to be certain that she understood their instructions, and the Earth people had such strange speech patterns.
"He means that Ford shouldn't let his fear of catching the virus get in the way of the mission," Rodney snapped. "Why aren't we wearing HazMat suits, again?" He shifted uncomfortably on the hard seat.
Sheppard started up the Jumper. "Come on, Rodney. You yourself once said 'If the agent is not airborne, then it should be relatively safe for us to look around as long as we take the proper precautions'. Well these," he indicated the N95 masks and the gloves, as well as cover-gowns, "Are proper precautions."
"According to whom?" demanded the astrophysicist.
Sheppard turned a 'this conversation is over' stare on him. "Beckett, all right? Sheesh." Turning back to the controls, he mentally triggered the roof release and lifted gently out of the bay.
"What sort of animals do they have, anyway?" Ford tried to redirect the conversation.
"We have an equine pack-animal, a hollow-horned ruminant mammal from which we get milk, a cloven-hoofed snouted animal known for its meat, and recently Halling has managed to acquire several egg-laying fowl." Teyla ticked off each variety on her fingers.
"I get it. Basically a horse, a cow, a pig, and a chicken." Sheppard grinned at his own cleverness. "Biro really wants some of the chicken-blood. Heck, it was all I could do to convince her that she didn't need to come along to supervise!"
"Thank you for not bringing her, sir."
"Thank Beckett, not me. He told her she was to valuable to be wasting time drawing blood samples." John began their descent towards the village.
McKay bristled at the imagined slight. "Oh, and I'm not?"
"Don't get your panties in a wad. He just wanted us to gather the samples efficiently, and that was the easiest way to get her to stay behind." As Teyla opened her mouth, he hurriedly added, "And that first bit is what we call 'just an expression', so don't bother asking." Teyla's mouth closed with a snap.
Sheppard grinned as both they, and silence, descended.
"I need a ventilator over here!" Derek called out, once again at Jinto's bedside. The boy had turned a violaceous, dusky hue, and was using every ounce of strength in his small frame to pull in each rattling breath. The wheezing was audible from three yards away, and despite the albuterol and the 100 non-rebreather mask, it was clear that the youngster wouldn't last much longer without help.
"I've got the crash cart." Nurse Galas rushed over with the red metal cart that always reminded Derek of his automechanic's Craftsman tool chest back on Earth.
"Great." Hurriedly he snatched the supplies he needed and, after giving the child a sedative and a paralyzing agent, slipped the endotracheal tube in with minimal difficulty. He hooked up an ambu-bag to the oxygen and listened with his stethoscope to make certain that the tube was in the correct position and not down just one lung or in the stomach. Satisfied, he straightened up and nodded.
"OK, bag him until the vent's set up." Jotting down some numbers on Jinto's bedside chart, the surgeon added, "And these are the vent settings I want to start out with. Get me an ABG after he's been on them an hour, but call if there's any problem with oxygenation in the meantime."
"Yes, Doctor." Shelly blew a loose hair out of her face as Derek headed towards Halling.
If Jinto was this bad, his father was likely next on the intubation hit parade. 'What'll we do when we run out of vents?' he thought. 'I guess we could have people sit there and bag them, but for hour long?' Continuing along this morbid line of thought, he arrived at the Athosian leader's bedside. The man was sitting up and still breathing on his own, but his ears and cheeks had turned a lavender-grey color which didn't bode well.
"How is my son?" he predictably asked.
Derek looked him in the eye. "Not good. He doesn't have enough energy to breathe on his own, so we're setting up a machine to help him with it."
"Is he in pain?" Halling was a typical father.
Derek managed a small, reassuring smile. "No, we have medicines to keep him asleep and comfortable while we wait for his body to fight off the infection."
Halling closed his eyes, taking what little comfort he could from the physician's words. Derek took a look at his bedside chart, then moved on to the next patient.
Carson, meanwhile, had been doing the work of two men or more. He pulled enough personnel out of the infirmary to adequately staff the viral lab for its research; if they couldn't come up with something to at least mitigate the symptoms, there was little point to working so hard on the victims. As a geneticist as well as a microbiologist, he knew the importance of isolating the virus and possibly finding an antibody to it. They could replicate the antibody and inject it in all the sufferers, possibly reversing or at least stopping the disease. He popped in frequently for updates, to review data, and to suggest possible alternative approaches whenever they seemed stymied.
The majority of his time was spent with the patients, however. He had gone into medicine because he truly loved helping people, and right now the Athosians needed all the help they could get. As he heard Dr. Lawrence call for a ventilator, he knew things had gone from bad to worse. Standing up, he smiled apologetically at the man he'd been examining and watched as the surgeon intubated the boy. Absently he massaged his hand through the bandage; it was really beginning to throb. 'I've got to remember to clean that thing' he thought for the tenth time. Turning back to his patient, he picked up the bedside flowsheet and checked the vitals signs recorded there.
"Well, now, that's not too bad," he commented as he set the chart down. Patting the patient's hand without the IV, he continued, "You just get some rest now. Everything's going to be all right." He sighed and headed over to help Dr. Watkins calm one of the frightened women; hysterics never helped you catch your breath.
"I thank you for your help, Anika." Teyla had been somewhat disconcerted to find the village so…deserted…despite the fact that she knew her people were on the Atlantis base. The elderly woman in front of her was one of the few Athosians still remaining on the mainland. "If we may see the animals, please?"
Smiling, the matriarch hobbled to nearby pen. "The drotes and ruthuns are kept in here, while the portkas," she pointed across the pathway, "are over there, with our new wasi."
"New?" McKay picked up instantly on the importance of a recently-introduced species.
So did Sheppard. "Any of them been sick?"
The lady chuckled. "Oh, no, no, no. First time, too."
'I beg your pardon?" McKay tilted his head quizically.
"First time we've gotten a flock of wasi to actually live more than a few weeks; they've always died before. We traded with the Arturans for these; nice, healthy birds they are, too." The dame was extremely pleased, and failed to notice the grim looks McKay and Sheppard exchanged over their protective masks.
Ford noticed, however, and took up the questioning. "Ma'am, did any of these birds get sick?"
"Oh my, honey, no. Healthiest fowl I've ever seen."
"We definitely need samples from them," Ford commented unnecessarily.
Summoning up his best General O'Neill impression, Sheppard drawled, "Ya think?"
TBC…..
AN: OK, I need an opinion - which is better: smaller chapters (1200 to 1500 words) more frequently (every 2 or 3 days) or larger chapters (3200 + words) about once or twice a week? That seems to be my writing speed (I never learned to type - thought it was 'sissy' - what an idiot!). So, what do you think?