Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry this has been so slow in coming. I got another story started and RL has been more than a little stressful lately (cliff notes version: the prof I wanted to do a thesis with didn't get tenure, so I'm looking for another project and advisor). In happier news, I got another story started. I played around with a couple scenarios of how to finish this particular story. I think I'm sticking with my original plan.

"Efficient, how," asked Carson taking the laptop from Dr. Randall, and staring at the diagram on the screen. At the moment, it resembled an abstract drawing.

"It's got a little longer incubation period, about three to four days, then full onset. Maybe a twelve-hour window to find a cure after symptoms start to appear," explained Kyte.

"So basically, infect as many individuals as possible, with little recourse for treatment," rephrased Colonel Caldwell. "Quite brilliant." Dr. Weir, Dr. Randall, and Dr. Beckett all exchanged nervous looks at his apparent detachment. Dr. Mason looked mildly puzzled at the separate sets of reactions, not sure if she should be nervous, proud, or scared.

"I don't understand how you could go ahead and synthesize this without any proper precautions, you know like, oh say, biolevel 3 containment," glared Dr. Randall at Dr. Mason, trying to pick the shards of plastic out of her hand.

"Look Katydid, you were always good at designing viruses, all theory, no practice. I wanted to see if your theory could actually work. I thought since this was targeting Wraith DNA, there'd be no problem, if there was, Atlantis' system would have isolated the lab,"

"With you and how many other people you put at risk? You expected me to come up with another brilliant solution? Actually, in this case, two? Not to mention what I just did?

"Two solutions?" asked Carson, noting the sudden increase in tension.

"Katydid here designed a sort Swiss Army knife of viruses. It can seek several different sequences of DNA. For each separate strain, you need a different cure. Grotsky would have been very proud of you," explained Dr. Mason.

"Quit calling me that, you always had to use that nickname, you could never call me by name. Was it that you could never accept I was better than you, or, you couldn't trust me and my judgment? That was certainly true in school, and it's certainly true now. I erased that file for a reason," Dr. Randall snapped, slowly warming up.

"Please, can we get back to the matter at hand," broke in Dr. Weir. Kyte and Carson suddenly realized how tired she looked, like a parent wondering what the kids had gotten into this time. "You two can rehash any old arguments later. You were saying something about two solutions?"

Kyte took a deep breath, forcing the anger back down. "The virus I designed and Dr. Mason modified, looks for either a Wraith DNA sequence or the markers of the Iratus bug. Since Teyla and Colonel Sheppard will each be affected by a separate component, we'll have to devise two separate treatments. I'm hoping Carson's expertise with the retrovirus will be helpful for treating Colonel Sheppard. I'm worried he may not have as much time after going a few rounds with the Wraith flu," her voice trailed off as she began considering several scenarios. "I'd like to tell them what the situation is, it is after all my fault." To Dr. Weir, the haunted look in Kyte's eyes said it all, she had possibly condemned Teyla and Colonel Sheppard to a hell of her own design. Dr. Weir nodded, then left. Caldwell followed shortly, after spending a moment debating whether or not to add his take on the situation. He was afraid that his military views might result in his being the recipient of several rounds of needle pokes since Dr. Beckett as CMO did outrank him, in theory. A theory he wasn't willing to test at the moment.

Let me see that hand, lass," said Carson, grabbing a pair of forceps and carefully pulling out the remaining shards of plastic. She refused to meet his eyes and he knew she was furious, mainly at herself. She winced momentarily when he pulled out one of the deeper pieces, and he knew she was taking a perverse pleasure in the pain. "You don't need stitches, although I'm going to wrap up your palm. You'll need to have someone check it every other day to make sure there's no infection.

"That's the least of my worries."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Teyla accepted the situation quite calmly, much better than Dr. Randall expected. In Kyte's mind, there was a certain twisted irony, being infected with something designed to kill Wraith, when you had been fighting them your whole life. She preferred the Colonel's outrage, to Teyla's quiet acceptance.

"You mean this stupid bug bite is causing problems again?" he asked, although not using those exact words, pacing wildly around the infirmary.

Carson ran interference and tried to get him to calm down, "When you get a viral infection, the body doesn't completely rid itself of the infection. It becomes dormant; although under certain it can reactivate, like chickenpox causing shingles. There's no danger of the retrovirus reactivating itself in your case, but rather this new virus is seeking out the markers left from it, seeing them as 'Wraith.'"

For the next few hours Colonel Sheppard alternated between pacing and sitting on one of the infirmary beds. Teyla attempted to meditate, dealing with the situation in her own way. Colonel Sheppard wondered if she would let Halling know of the situation. "So you decided to see how effective this anti-Wraith virus was?" Sheppard swore, finally breaking the relative silence and questioning several people's ancestries, among other things.

"Sorry, should have asked you to go find one of Steve or Bob's friends," replied Kyte softly, absorbing the verbal blows. She knew he had every right to be furious, and despite Dr. Mason's role, she had designed this virus. Colonel Sheppard sighed and finally flopped onto one of the beds. "You and the others will figure out something, right?" Kyte nodded. "How can you be so sure," he persisted.

"As my cross country coach used to quote, 'Do or do not. There is no try.'"

"Ah, the wisdom of Yoda." Teyla looked puzzled for a moment at the reference. He went back to pacing, not quite wanting to leave the infirmary, despite his hatred of the place, yet unable to sit quietly awaiting his possible fate. After a little while, Colonel Sheppard looked over at Kyte, typing awkwardly on the laptop with a bandaged hand. She was still in scrubs, although she'd convinced someone to remove the IV. She had been working nonstop since they'd entered, a tray of food, cold and untouched sat nearby. "What did you do, after you left the lab, when you worked with Dr. Mason?"

"I worked. After a couple months, my friend Stacey got me a job as a research tech in the physics lab where she was doing research and I had done some work as an undergrad. After a while the prof pulled some strings and I got into another graduate lab, where I did my thesis."

"Why didn't you stay in physics?"

"The odds are good, but the goods are odd. Before you ask, I did tell that one here. Dr. Simpson laughed, but I don't think Miko found it funny." Kyte saw the Colonel laughing.

"I hope Rodney didn't hear that one. What did you before the lab job?" he had caught the timing slip in her phrasing.

"Bartended. Worked at a meat packing plant out in the East Bay, carving up carcasses. Tried to sort some things out."

Sheppard caught her eye and there was momentary flash of understanding. When things happened, bad things, that were the result of your actions, there was no true forgiveness, no matter what anyone else said. There was only atonement, which required self-sacrifice, sweat, tears, and aching muscles, at the least. Grace, if it existed, was divined by surviving another day, or maybe it was a signal that you weren't done with your penance yet. Sheppard made a mental note to check on Dr. Randall for a few days when this was all over.

Dr. Mason may have been listening before he walked into the area, apologetic look on his face, carrying a laptop and mug of coffee. "I have a couple ideas, plus I have a small peace offering," he said to Dr. Randall. She looked at the mug, which contained a few inches of thick brew. "I found your espresso maker. Figured you could do with a doppio. You used to run on this stuff. Guess you still do," he shrugged, at a loss for words for the situation. Part of him wanted to apologize, but part of him still harbored anger towards Kyte. Who was she judge what was right and what was wrong? From what he'd heard, the Wraith were a serious threat. So what if there were a few casualties?

Kyte put the mug down, pointedly, without touching the contents, and looked at the computer. "That won't work, and neither will that. Have Carson and Dr. Carol Biro made any progress?" He nodded.

"They're trying to modify the retrovirus and Colonel Sheppard's subsequent treatment, but they're struggling with how to deal with Ms. Teyla Emmagan's case.

"Still hasn't lost the Southern school of thought. Can't call a woman by her first name unless there's a title in front of it," Kyte mused. She pushed her hair back, willing herself to think, frustration evident on her face. She really wanted to hit something, anything. She thought of a line from a movie, "I'm tired of coming up with last-ditch solutions." She loved that movie, but would never admit. "C'mon, this isn't cancer", she told herself. "But what if we get the body to think it is," she thought with sudden insight, then turned back to the computer. She was lost in thought for the next several hours, oblivious to any goings on. Her body pleaded for sleep, and she silently bargained, 'just a little while longer', trying to push through the exhaustion, like she had on many occasions, swallowing yawns. She ignored a second tray of food, eyes never leaving the screen as she watched for a bottle of water. Dr. Randall finally looked up, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I think we found a way to treat Colonel Sheppard," said Carson, as Kyte started.

"Good because I think I have a solution for Teyla," she replied, offering the laptop to him.

He squinted at the screen. "That's original, using RNA to over-express and knock out the DNA." Kyte shrugged.

"Hopefully it works. I guess we'll know soon enough. Like before, this probably won't be pleasant." Carson nodded, and left to go make preparations.

"Rodney, I need a favor." Dr. McKay had been dashing between his lab and the infirmary, attempting to keep tabs on the progress in the infirmary, while trying to organize the lab from his absence. Carson looked over at the two, deep in debate. Dr. McKay didn't appear too happy with her request, but was nodding his consent before he left.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"We're just keeping them here for observation," explained Carson as Dr. Weir and Colonel Caldwell surveyed the two figures in the infirmary. Somehow he had managed to get them both to consent to scrubs and various monitoring devices.

"I am glad both the Colonel and Ms. Emmagen are recovering," said Colonel Caldwell, "but I'd like to see the anti-Wraith virus."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. Dr. Randall erased all copies from the system, as well as the cures, and the original virus," said Carson softly. There was a note of regret in his voice.

"What," bellowed Caldwell. Carson was sure that several bets had been placed on the number of decibels regarding his reaction.

"Actually, all copies except one," said Dr. Weir, holding up a memory stick. As leader of this expedition and someone under my direction, Dr. Randall gave this to me. I will of course report this entire incident to Stargate Command, but the data and full details will stay here."

'I think this calls for a discussion," snapped Colonel Caldwell. "Senior staff, my office, one hour."

TBC

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has been reading. The quote about the odds being good, was from my sister's observations of her physics department. The last about last ditch solutions is from Under Siege.