"Elizabeth, I think we have something." Sheppard bounded into her office without knocking. In fact, he almost entered without using the door, and as a result caught his shoulder on the edge as it opened too slowly for his frantic pace.
"What is it?" She looked startled at the sudden intrusion, but not angry. Anything but angry. Her hands pushed away the document without so much as a glance toward it, her attention was riveted to the colonel.
He slapped a notebook onto her desk. "Read this."
The writing on the crisp sheet was in Rodney's almost unintelligible scrawl. She winced at it for a moment, deciphering the script, and finally fell into a reading rhythm as she mentally adjusted to his scribble. Her head cocked slightly in curious puzzlement, and she started to read aloud.
"Ancient judgement device . . . possible they were trying to come up with a way to test the subject for qualities of ascension? What is this?"
"This was shoved in a neat pile underneath Rodney's desk." Sheppard took a seat across from her. "Radek said he would see Rodney writing in a notebook while studying this orb . . ."
"Orb? What orb?"
"The orb that Radek is bringing up. We're wondering if this has something to do with Rodney and Carson's disappearance."
One word caught her eye. "Surely . . . you're not saying they . . ." she subtly pointed upwards.
Sheppard's eyes followed her gesture before his mind did. "No. NO! No, I don't think they've ascended. I mean, you have to die first, from what I understand." He stopped and pressed his lips together, his brows drawn together as he matched her gaze.
That was something he hadn't considered.
Radek burst into the room with as much energy as Sheppard had. "Here, I have it." He carefully placed a stand on the desk, and tucked the small orb into it. "This is what he has been studying. Would not let me touch the thing. And there is something else." He produced the datapad which had been tucked beneath his arm. "Remember I said something about an energy burst? There was one, and it was in the lab shortly after the time Carson was reported to have left the infirmary. The precise spot has been pinpointed . . ." he pulled up a schematic of the lab, "there."
"Rodney's desk?"
"Yes."
"You can pinpoint that?"
"It was a very short burst, and very intense. It was easy to find. You said you found this orb on the floor when you first searched the lab?"
"That's right."
"Watch." Radek pulled out a metal wand-looking device and plugged it into a small adapter. The adapter he plugged into the data pad. "See this?" He waved the wand slowly over the orb, and the lines on the pad spiked. "There is a large amount of energy contained within. It is like this orb is powered on."
"And doing what?" Elizabeth asked. "Is it a transporter of some kind?"
Sheppard shook his head. "There's no sign of them anywhere on the station, no readings, nothing."
"It could have transported them elsewhere," Radek said, turning off the wand and thumping it against his hand.
"Is there a way to test this?"
"If I knew how to activate this device, maybe. But Rodney left no notes, just fairy tales." He pointed to the notebook in Elizabeth's hands. "For all I know the burst was a random thing, not a result of a direct action."
"Meaning it could happen at any time?" Elizabeth eyed the orb.
"I . . . uh, yes." Radek pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, emphasizing his wide eyes. "I had not thought of that."
Sheppard waited, then asked patiently, "Then shouldn't you get that thing out of here?"
"What? Oh, yes. Yes, I probably should." He tucked the wand into his jacket pocket and carefully lifted the orb, and the stand, shoving the pad back beneath his arm.
"I want to know as soon as you figure out how to test your theory," Elizabeth said. "In the meantime, I want every available team out and searching."
"I have a rotation started," Sheppard said. "There are plenty of places we haven't covered. Of course they are places we haven't fully explored as of yet."
"That doesn't mean they aren't there."
Sheppard acquiesced.
She nodded.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The room was silent. Lenore sat in a corner, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her body rocking back and forth in distress. Abrams was dozing.
Carson stared at nothing. There was nothing to stare at, and what was worse, there was no one to talk to. Lenore had retreated back into herself, and Abrams was . . . well, Rodney said it best when the phrase 'useless' slipped out. For a military man, especially one of his stature, he really was a helpful as a sunken log.
His head throbbed. And the pain in his chest would not go away.
Rodney was resourceful. He was fine. The man was a genius, after all, but genius was nothing without some sort of catalyst and something to work with. Trapped in a bare room with needles shooting out of the wall didn't really present an occasion for his skills to come into use, not unless he somehow pulled a needle out of the wall and started playing baseball with the deadly projectiles. Rodney wasn't a baseball man.
And the image made Carson laugh, showing how desperate he was to believe his friend was okay.
There was a twitch, and a grunt from the other side of the room. Abrams shifted his position, his head lulling to the side. Lenore glanced at him, then found the spot on the floor she had been staring at for so long. How long? Hours, it seemed, though there was no way to tell. According to his watch, they had been gone for nearly twelve hours, but that could very well be meaningless in a place like this. It sure seemed meaningless, where the hours stretched like days. A day could easily be a year. A week, a lifetime.
Lenore was suddenly watching him, her dark eyes glinting in the faint light. He had yet to figure out exactly how the rooms were lit, but each one was, just barely, and each was a different hue. This room was a faint, sickly green, almost yellow, reminding him of sickness and disease. It floated just over the grey walls and left him feeling lethargic. Lenore's face was drawn, as though suffering from an unspeakable illness. The skin underneath her eyes was black, her skin tone was pale and deathly. Carson reached for her, noting how his arm looked too thin in the odd light. "Come here."
She didn't move, not for a moment, then managed to slowly crawl towards him. She was emotionally strung out. They all were. Too much happened in too short a space, and there was no way to escape it. The phrase kept crossing his mind, 'who's next, who's next?'. And he pulled her to him, finding comfort in the sense of presence she held earlier, keeping that image firmly in mind.
"I want you to think back for me," he said softly. "I know it's hard, but I want you to try and remember how you got here." His voice was drawn out, like taffy.
She shifted in his arm, and slowly lowered her head to rest on his shoulder. "There was something. Something round."
"Did you touch it?"
"No. I don't think I was supposed to." She sluggishly raised her chin and looked at him. "But you did."
He blinked a few times, feeling his brain fight through fog. "What?"
"You must have. Or you wouldn't be here."
"How would you . . ." he yawned.
She just smiled. "Maybe we should just rest."
"Yes, I suppose so." He forced his eyes open, but they felt heavy, pulled down and inwards. He had a vague recollection of going through the wall, and the sucking, heavy feeling that weighed him down. The room seemed thicker, darker, greener. He couldn't see Abrams, not really. "Just rest, just for a moment." His chest felt heavier, and he had a vague sensation of drowning on the inside. Must be what pneumonia feels like.
No, no rest! Get up!
Or a heart attack. He wasn't having a heart attack, was he? No, of course not. She was here, and she was acting just as sluggish, and he knew that wasn't right but he didn't have the strength to argue.
Get up, you arse!
His breath caught, and he tried to open his eyes. "Rodney?"
"Carson? He's not here, remember?" Lenore was like lead on his arm.
It's the room. You have to get out, now!
"Room . . ." he muttered.
"Heavy," she agreed, fading.
Closing in on you.
Lenore grunted, her breathing slowing.
Open your eyes, you daft fool! You've no chance if you sleep! Rodney needs you!
"Dream voice," he said sluggishly with a smile. "You know, when you're almost asleep . . ."
"Carson," Lenore gasped.
He blinked, and realized he was laying on the floor, with her half on top of him. She pushed to her hands, eyes unfocused. "Can't breathe."
The room was darker, and thicker. Carson raised his hand, fighting against the pressure. He forced his mind to focus, and in an instant of clarity, realized what the voice in his head was trying to tell him.
"Room. Closing in on us." He pushed onto his elbows, feeling Lenore roll from his legs. "Up. Get up." He tried, but he couldn't move.
"Doc . . ." the sound was a heavy grumble, and a large form approached. The next thing he knew, he was hauled over Abrams' shoulder. He was faintly aware of Lenore's cry of pain as she was dragged beside him, and then the pressure consumed him.