The jumper bay was virtually empty. John had everything prepared inside jumper eight that he could possibly ready, and found himself playing the hated waiting game. He ran down the ramp, boot clanging noisily on the metal. "Where the hell's Radek?"

"Still having trouble configuring," Lt. Bamber said, coiling what was left of the wire that stretched from the jumper to a large mess ten feet away.

"He does realize we have to make two trips to scoop up all these things, right?"

"At least."

John paced for a moment more. "Dammit. We're running out of time," he muttered, pushing past.

"I'm sure he knows that, sir!" the man yelled behind him.

Sheppard exited the bay and ran down the eerily deserted halls. People were being evacuated through the stargate at that moment. He could imagine the long line steadily streaming through the event horizon like a human river. His anxiety grew as he skidded into the lab and didn't see Radek.

What he saw was no less that thirty bugs, chewing the cords. They didn't seem affected by the zaps.

That wasn't good. John turned on his heel and swiped his gun from the holster. He fired at the bugs running toward the labs as he ran backwards, propelling himself into the transporter, leaving a few holes in the door.

Fortunately no one was shot by the last bullet as he flew out two floors above.

John continued to run and tapped his radio. "McKay! You hear me?" He stopped for a moment, unable to hear over his own pounding footsteps. "Rodney! Dammit, do you read!" There was nothing, no cursing, no tirade, not even static.

Again, not good.

He continued his run, trying for Elizabeth and getting garble. He descended the stairs eight and ten at a time by half-sliding along the railing, landing hard on the platform, and rushing to the window.

The bugs were right below him, crawling into the city. They were out of time.

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" Rodney asked as he gasped for air.

"Sgt. Amarvian." The soldier pounded at the grate that closed them in. Only the thought of being eaten alive had spurred Rodney through the tight conduits, but now that his adrenaline was ebbing the fear was kicking into high gear.

He wheezed in terror and pressed at the walls just inches from him. "Goddammit, my cat has more strength than you! Get us the fuck out of here!"

"Nothing I'd like more, trust me," Amarvian muttered through gritted teeth as he leaned back and banged his heels against the grating. The sound was deafening, like banging a mallet on sheet metal, but the grate started to give.

"I take back everything I said about your ethnicity." Rodney shifted so he was on his hands and knees directly behind the sergeant. "Now push!"

"I'm working on it!" Sweat dripped from the soldier's skin, and he kicked the grate free with a determined yell and slid out of the wall.

"Thank you!" Rodney exclaimed, right as Amarvian called out, "Dr. McKay, wait . . ."

Rodney slid out and landed in an ungraceful heap on something soft. He was prepared to make his apologies to Amarvian when he noticed the dark man shining his light on him. Rodney looked down, and shoved himself away with a high-pitched yell. "Fuck!"

"Dr. McKay . . ." Amarvian was reaching for him . . .

"Shit! Oh, no . . .nonono . . ." The young eyes that stared back at him held none of the defiance and mirth of that morning. The can was still in his hand, the string broken. His dark hair was matted with blood, his flesh torn from his skull. As Rodney watched, being pulled back by the soldier, several bugs crawled from the nemesis boy's nose and into his gaping mouth.

"Dr. McKay! Let's go! NOW!" Sgt. Amarvian tugged the stricken man along.

Rodney finally found it within himself to run on his own terms.

They hurled around a corner, and were attacked.

Amarvian fell back, screaming, clawing at the bugs that seemed to leap for his throat. Rodney grabbed at him, then pushed him away in revulsion as he saw the hundreds of bugs that suddenly covered him, consuming him; and they were running towards Rodney, clinging to his pants legs as he frantically tried to swat them away, running backwards past the dead boy, trying to leap for the conduit. Hard bodies crunched under his boots as he landed; the floor was suddenly covered with writhing, scurrying bodies, all climbing him.

The whole corridor was crawling.

They were on his arms. He shrieked, batting them away, seeing them fall, seeing them climb back up. One hand went over his nose and mouth, the other desperately waved and shook the bugs off, but it was no use. They covered him; he could feel them on his stomach, his chest, on the back of his neck. He swiped at the wall, clearing a space, and pressed the side of his head against it, blocking passage to his left ear. He covered his right ear with his right hand, his left over his mouth and nose, allowing barely enough space between his fingers to breath. They crawled over his skin, his hands, in his hair, over eyelids screwed tightly shut, down his shirt, and he suddenly thought of another orifice he'd rather not have penetrated. His own hand stifled his screams.

A flash of red reflected against his eyelids. There was an odd screech, a high keening, and he gave his head a quick shake and opened his eyes. A bug instantly crawled over it and again he screamed behind his hand, aware of another flash and more keening as he sank to the floor, his energy spent, his body trembling and his spirit breaking.

The red bursts continued to light the hallway, punctuated by a furious voice coming closer. One flash right before him, blinding him even through closed eyes, and the scurrying sensations increased then disappeared. Moments later a pair of hands were forcing his own down and he fought back, still feeling thousands of crawling legs all over him, knowing the bugs were there, just waiting to enter him. He was held in a firm grip, and the voice that spoke was the last he had ever expected to hear.

"Carson?"

"Aye, it's me, are you all right?"

Rodney braved the small act of opening his eyes. Emergency flares turned the corridor an evil red, casting large shadows of retreating bugs along the walls. "Oh God." He collapsed, falling over to his side onto the floor, with Carson still gripping his wrists tightly. "Shit. Oh shit."

"Shhh, you're okay, come on. We've got to go." He rubbed Rodney's shoulder, then gave it a tight squeeze. "Come on, man, get up! We can't stay here."

There was no way Rodney could move. Every part of him had seized up, abandoned him. He stared at Carson blankly.

"How . . ."

"The Colonel couldn't find you, so I've been looking." Carson leaned over him, touching him, rubbing his arms, using the sensation of human contact to ground him.

"You . . ." Rodney blinked unsteadily, "why?"

Carson took Rodney's face in his hands, desperate to get their lead scientist back from this hell. "Rodney, do you really think I'd leave you behind?"

Rodney shook his head. After a moment he was able to sit up and lean back against the wall. Shock was frozen on his face.

Carson pulled him away from the stability and wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders. "Power source. Remember? You need to find a battery."

"Battery . . ."

"Jumper, scoop the bugs, make a utopia, that sort a thing. Ring a bell, maybe?"

Rodney was fighting to focus. Carson could see that, and he kept talking to the stricken man, pulling him back, rerouting his brain from terror to affirmative action.

Rodney's eyes suddenly cleared. "Naquahdah generator."

Carson smiled and nodded. "Right. Now where is the bugger?" And he winced, but Rodney didn't seem to notice the slip.