Any medical mistakes in this chapter are definitely mine (unfortunately).
Chapter Eight
To say that Beckett had been surprised by the sight of Rodney McKay not only tasering Sheppard, but also trying to tie him up was the understatement of the century. In fact, it had surprised everyone so much that for an entire minute the group had just stood there. Even Ronon and Teyla.
The spell had been broken when Beckett let out an amazed, "Bloody hell."
That galvanized Ronon, who took off, bringing down McKay with a full body blow that sent both men flying. Beckett and the marines charged in after him.
Rodney wasn't going to stay lying down without a fight. He seemed frantic to get away, completely hysterical, and in between uncoordinated punches he kept screaming, "He's infected."
Beckett quickly sized up the scenario. He threw his med kit on the ground, pulled out a syringe and loaded it with lorazepam. At the rate Rodney was going the marines would hurt him, or – and it surprised Beckett to even consider this – Rodney would hurt the marines.
"Hold him down."
McKay got a look at Carson and seemed simultaneously grateful and pissed off. "What are you doing!"
"Sedating you."
That seemed to galvanize Rodney even more. He kneed a marine in the groin and managed to get a hand free long enough to fling sand into someone's eyes.
"Doc, do you want to hurry it up here? He seems to be stronger than I remember." Ronon had thrown himself across the torso of McKay and was trying to pin the arms.
Beckett aimed for the closest available muscle group. It happened to be Rodney's left thigh. He plunged the needle in, not worrying about injecting straight through clothing. They had to continue to hold him for another two minutes but then the drug kicked in and thirty seconds later all fight abruptly left McKay.
It's a pity the same couldn't have been said for Sheppard. Teyla had gone to help him. She'd untied him and he'd rolled over and he'd sat up like he was spring loaded. Beckett didn't bother to straighten up, just crab walked over to Sheppard, dragging his med kit. Looked him straight in the face for clues to the man's state of health, and got the strong feeling that he was seeing what was professionally known as 'crazy eyes' but dismissed his gut instincts for the time being. They'd be back on the Daedalus soon enough and then he could get them both into restraints. The best bet now was to play it innocently and get some information from Sheppard while keeping another hypodermic ready.
"You okay Colonel?"
The eyes were sparkling and wide. "Yeah, I'm great. How's McKay?"
"Out for the count. Would you mind telling me what Rodney was doing?"
Sheppard sighed, looked downcast. "He started losing it when the Daedalus didn't show up as expected."
"Yes, well, turned out they had a trouble with their hyperdrive system. Gave us all a scare."
"Poor guy started going nuts a couple of weeks ago. You know what McKay's like - over reacts to everything, always on edge. I tried distracting him but he got hostile. That's when he tasered me."
Teyla looked concerned. "I hope you are not badly injured."
"No, I'm good. It was a shocker but I'm over it." He winked at her, trying to get her to laugh at his joke. She tentatively returned his smile. Perhaps she also sensed that things were not as they should be.
"Sounds bad," said Beckett keeping his mood light and noting that a Glock was lying in the sand a few feet from Sheppard.
"Yeah, Rodney's a great guy. Can you help him Carson?"
"I'm going to give it a bloody good try. Now, let's get you to your feet and get out of here."
He and Teyla gave Sheppard a hand up, saw that Lorne and Ronon were supporting a drugged Rodney. He nodded at Lorne.
"Let's get this over with."
Lorne nodded. "Daedalus, we're clear."
There was a blinding flash of light and Beckett, Lorne, Ronon, Teyla, Rodney and Sheppard disappeared.
The marines left behind started securing the site. As they worked they postulated on just what the hell the two men had been through and how it had managed to drive one formerly semi-meek scientist to assault and one former tough-guy pilot into the ground.
((--))
They materialized in sickbay and Beckett let out a sigh of relief at having not been solidified inside a bulkhead, or for that matter, the vacuum of space. He hated Ancient technology, especially the stuff that mimicked Star Trek. He'd watched Star Trek and transporter accidents were a leading cause of death amongst day players and extras.
Lorne and Ronon walked Rodney over to a bed. Jacobson was there waiting, automatically doing what any good doctor would do – assessing the patient.
"I gave him three milligrams of lorezepam," said Beckett as he grabbed the grinning Sheppard by the arm and walked him to another free bed. Teyla went with him, seemingly compelled to keep her eye on her recently recovered team leader.
Jacobson nodded. "Okay, you want me to do the exam?"
"Yeah, check him over, get him cleaned up. Let's run that standards. CBC, Chem-7, standard liver function panel, get a GGT with it and I want a urinalysis when he wakes up."
"Got it."
A nurse moved over to the bed, clutching a tray bearing a range of tubes with different colored stoppers. Jacobson and his team concentrated on removing Rodney's clothing with the help of scissors and brute strength.
Both Lorne and Ronon backed off but then stood in the middle of the controlled chaos looking distinctly out of place.
"If you don't need me Dr. Beckett, I think I'll go make sure the rest of the squad makes it back in one piece," said Lorne.
"Of course."
Lorne made for the exit, Ronon following. Beckett called Ronon back, for some reason his instincts telling him that having a warrior like Ronon around might just be a good thing.
"Ah, Ronon, if you could do me the favor of just hanging around for a few more minutes, I'd like to get a blood sample from you as well."
He didn't blame Ronon for looking confused by the request, but Carson just didn't know how to explain his suspicions. His intuition said that keeping Ronon around Sheppard would be a damn good idea.
"Do you also require my assistance Dr. Beckett?" Teyla hovered by the bed, seemingly unsure of just what she should be doing now the medical team had taken over.
"No love. Not at the moment. I'll call you if I need anything." The gentlemen part of him insisted that if anything was going to happen, Teyla should be out of harm's way. The fact that she was a much better fighter and more than capable of defending herself did nothing to dampen down the voice of his first year Phys Ed. Teacher, Mr. Smith. A man who insisted that the reason he was making them shimmy up a rope dangling from the gym ceiling was that one day they'd have to defend their girlfriends. Beckett flashed back to his eleven-year old self, stranded at the top of the rope while Smith turned red and screamed at him, "Beckett if you don't stop your sniveling I'm going to let the sixth year rugby team use you as a ball and then you'll have something to cry about!"
Boarding school toughened him up but it did not prepare him for a life in the Pegasus Galaxy one little bit.
Teyla didn't like it but she did as she'd been told. Ronon nodded once, stepped back to stand beside a wall, out of the way, while Beckett guided Sheppard onto the waiting bed, and pulled the curtain. That was the one good thing about the sickbay on the Daedalus. They'd managed to install curtains so the patients had some form of privacy.
Sheppard willingly sat down but seemed to be eyeing up Carson with an almost predatory gleam in his eye.
"Are you going to run the same tests on me, Doc?"
"Too bloody right I am. We didn't go this far to have you two present with some unknown wee beastie that could kill you."
Sheppard gave him a weird look and then shrugged. "No, I wouldn't want to be infected with a beastie either."
"Okay, get your shirt off, I'll check you out, get the samples and you can take a shower."
That seemed to make Sheppard even more cheerful. "A shower... That'd be great."
The marginally clean t-shirt came off, Beckett winced at the condition of the skin. Some nasty sores to clean up, but thankfully nothing too infected. A bit skinnier than he would have liked but it was better than dragging back some emaciated survivor with a body on the verge of shutting down. Apart from that, he seemed in reasonable condition for someone who'd been stranded in primitive conditions.
Following his quick survey, Carson did what he always did and warmed up the stethoscope by rubbing it on his lab coat. He listened for any oddity in the heart beat or rales in the lungs. All clear and normal. He put on the blood pressure cuff, pumped it up, tucked the stethoscope into the crook of the arm, listened for the thump of the brachial artery reopening as he released the pressure.
"One-hundred and five over sixty-five."
The figure was a little off. Not enough to alarm him considering what they had been through and Sheppard had always been fit with a systolic sitting around 110 and diastolic of seventy. He noted on a chart that they would need to monitor it carefully over the next twenty-four hours and ensure that the pressure stabilized. That just left the samples and Beckett, unlike many doctors who'd let themselves get out of practice, was more than adept at finding a vein on the first attempt. The blood flowed easily.
"At least you're hydrated," said Beckett.
"Yeah. There was a river. A lot of rain. We got lucky."
Both men fell silent as they watched Beckett swiftly change the tubes over as they filled, placing each one in the tray. It also gave Carson a chance to consider whether an MRI of Sheppard's head was going to find anything. After that, he picked up an empty plastic container, passed it to Sheppard.
"If you could kindly pee into this, I'd appreciate it." Carson pointed towards the sickbay bathroom. "You can take a shower straight after."
Normally Carson wouldn't have been hanging around the bathroom when he had a fully ambulatory patient but something about Sheppard's disposition told him that supervision would be a good idea.
He pulled the curtains to one side, Sheppard didn't bother to pull his shirt back on, just headed for the bathroom, Carson following him.
Jacobson looked up from McKay's bedside, the scientist in question now in a hospital gown and tucked into bed. "I think there's a fresh set of scrubs and towels in there. Go nuts."
Sheppard smiled again, wide and feral, and that frightened Carson because Sheppard was not a man who smiled often and certainly not like that.
They entered the bathroom together. There was a small wooden bench, a white towel and white scrubs placed there by a nurse. Sheppard laughed when he saw the shower, the separate bath, the toilet.
"A flush toilet. Never thought I'd see one again. Pity I'm taking a leak into a cup."
Then he shut the sliding door, emerged a minute later with the plastic container filled, the lid screwed on tightly and placed it on the bench.
Carson took the container as Sheppard turned on the shower. The sight of warm water flowing down the drain seemed to instantly mesmerize him.
"Thanks, Colonel. The lab will be thrilled."
Sheppard didn't look up, captivated by the sight of running water. "Glad to help."
It struck Carson at that point in time he probably shouldn't have turned his back to leave. But he did and in a split second he found himself rammed face first into a wall, his right hand twisted up hard behind his back, the sample rolling off across the floor.
He let out a terrified yell and the next thing he knew, Ronon was charging in, sizing up the situation, and pulling an abnormally strong Sheppard off Carson.
Carson got to his feet as rapidly as he could, shouted back to Jacobson. "Get me some fentanyl!"
Ronon continued struggling with Sheppard, both of them trying to get a grip on the other man, Beckett trying not to get himself caught between the two thrashing warriors. He hastily stepped backwards just as Ronon crashed Sheppard into the wooden bench, forcing his knees to buckle.
"Keep still you crazy motherfucker!" That was Ronon again and Carson made a mental note to himself to ask Ronon where he'd picked up such appalling language.
Jacobson came sprinting towards them, needle at the ready. Sheppard broke free and instead of running out, got into the shower. Definitely crazy behavior.
"Doc, this isn't good," said Ronon.
Jacobson and Beckett paired up and started to approach the Lieutenant Colonel standing in the shower, fully clothed, and completely soaked.
"John, I'm just going to give you an injection and then you'll feel better. I imagine what you really need is a good night's sleep."
That was of course, a total lie, but Carson was just hoping the tone of his voice would keep Sheppard calm, much like he would hope talking to a frightened dog would stop it from biting. He'd also deliberately chosen fentanyl due to the rapid onset. He wanted his patient to keel over as rapidly as possible and fentanyl, although short acting, would do just that. It would be enough time to at least get him strapped to a gurney.
Just as Carson got within striking range, Sheppard's legs buckled. He fell to his knees and threw up. Not a good sign.
It was even a worse sign that the vomit contained what Becket initially thought were blood clots. Then he watched the rounded shapes bulge, break open and insect creatures out of his worst nightmare make a running escape attempt for the drain.
"Holy mother of God," exclaimed Jacobson.
None of them made any moves to approach Sheppard, the sight of living bugs spewing forth from a human being inducing an instinctive and primitive revulsion. Carson realized it was also out of self protection, especially when a number of the creatures ignored the drain and tried to exit the shower and head for Carson and Jacobson.
"What do you want me to do!" That was Ronon, who sounded panicked. A panicked sounding Ronon meant it was really as bad as Carson thought. Carson watched as Ronon started reaching for his gun, presumably to shoot the creepy critters having a free-for-all around Sheppard's kneeling form. The last thing Carson needed was weapons fire in a small space.
"Just keep away from them," shouted back Carson. "Jacobson, do you keep any insecticides around here?"
"Sure. We had a team come back infected with the local form of body lice. Had to douse the lot of them."
"I'm thinking we try it out on our little friends here."
"You got it."
Jacobson exited the bathroom rapidly, the creatures attempting to follow. Ronon gave up and went for a more permanent solution. He started stomping on them. Unfortunately it seemed to only slow them down.
But slow was better than nothing, and now that three of the bastards were making a play at trying to climb up his boots, Carson joined Ronon and did his own impression of the flamenco. Sheppard in the mean time had stopped vomiting but was still kneeling, his expression dazed.
Jacobson made it back with the insecticide. It was in liquid form, stored in a liter bottle, like shampoo. He didn't need any encouragement and began squirting it on anything that was alive and had more than two legs.
Their insect friends – resembling elongated, skinny leeches - seemed to be as resilient as cockroaches and they kept moving for a further three minutes, running around in circles, seemingly agitated beyond belief that their attempts to infect new hosts had been foiled.
They waited until all the insects appeared to have breathed their last, then Carson pulled the top of Sheppard's pants away from his hip and Jacobson stuck Sheppard with the fentanyl. The guy was out in under a minute.
Carson felt for a pulse, got one. They both hauled him out of the shower, and both of them set about stripping off the wet clothing, kicking dead insects out of the way with their feet.
Two orderlies were there with a gurney and between Carson, Jacobson and Ronon they lifted Sheppard up, rolled him onto his side and covered him with a blanket.
Beckett turned to bark orders at Ronon, even though Ronon wasn't exactly an official marine. "You need to inform Colonel Caldwell that we have biohazard contamination. Get the hazmat team and get those drains cleared."
"You got it," replied Ronon and he scooted out as fast as possible, hitting his comms button at the same time.
Jacobson looked at the still form of Sheppard and then at Beckett. "Okay, what's our next move? I don't know about you, but this is getting out of my area of expertise."
"The first thing I want to know is how many more of those little buggers are still in him, and what they hell they've done to his stomach."
"You're worried about blood loss…"
"His pressure was down a bit and I didn't like the color of that vomit."
"Yeah. Black. Definitely blood loss."
"Let's do an endocopsy of the upper GI while he's still out. Order up some whole blood."
"Good call, let's get him into the OR. I've got all the gear in there."
((--))
Rodney was slowly making a return to consciousness, yet again, only this time he wasn't in cold water, and no one had punched him. He was comfortable and warm and he didn't smell and that was very pleasant, all things considered.
There was however, the small matter of the restraints. Part of him wanted to protest, and he really wanted to roll over onto his side and curl up semi fetal but it struck him that being in a bed, and not being pounded on by Sheppard was good. He should be grateful and leave it at that. Besides, he was still sleepy and although he could hear screaming and yelling he just decided that he was going to ignore it because it was easy enough not to have to think any more about the situation. He closed his eyes and drifted away.
((--))
Carson hadn't wasted any time in threading the endoscope down Sheppard's esophagus after Jacobson had inserted the plastic guard between Sheppard's teeth. Jacobson then busied himself running in an IV line and setting up a unit of O Neg.
Carson kept his attention focused on the screen, threading down until he hit the stomach and tried not to gag. Sheppard's stomach was a filled mass of black sacs, all showing signs of movement. He couldn't even make out the mucosa.
Jacobson was as appalled as he was. "It's a wonder he's not dead."
Beckett maneuvered the endoscope, trying to check out the stomach for bleeders and failed miserably. "There's too many of them. I can't see a thing."
"I wonder how they're surviving in the environment." For Jacobson a certain amount of medical curiosity had taken over.
"I'd say that the sac must be some form of protection against gastric acids," replied Carson, both repulsed and fascinated.
"Any ideas about how we're going to get them out?"
"They look too big to aspirate even if we used a large gauge NG tube."
"Then get some ipecac into him."
Carson winced. "I'm not so sure about that in his condition. He'll need to be conscious, ipecac is pretty brutal, I don't know how low his potassium level is, and we don't know how violent he's going to be."
"It's either that or make him swallow the insecticide and I think that would effectively kill him."
"So until we find a less lethal formula..."
"… Induce vomiting and get that shit out of him."
"We'll need a container we can seal the emesis in and we'll need to put the insecticide in there. Kill them off instantly."
"Not a problem."
Jacobson went for a container, also calling in two nurses to help out. Carson was more than aware that his dose of fentanyl was probably wearing off, so he removed the endoscope, and made sure that Sheppard was well and truly bound down. Restraints on his ankles and on his wrists, then a strap across his chest before they got the gurney up so that he was propped at a thirty degree angle.
Now they just had to get the syrup into him.
Carson measured out a thirty milliliter dose into a needless syringe, and a nurse draped a towel across Sheppard's chest. Jacobson began rousing him by rubbing hard on his sternum with his fist and yelling into Sheppard's ear.
"Come on John. Wake up! Open your eyes and wake up!"
There was nothing like being screamed at and having someone digging their knuckles into your chest to get a response. They were both pleased to see him groggily make an effort to come back to consciousness. Even though Sheppard's eyes weren't fully open, Carson went for his opportunity because a semi-sedated patient would respond to commands even if they couldn't remember anything about it the next day.
He got the syringe right against his patient's lips, yelling his next instruction. "You need to open your mouth for me, Colonel!"
Sheppard, still bewildered, didn't respond. Jacobson helped out by gripping the bottom half of Sheppard's jaw and pulling it open. Carson slide the needleless syringe in, squirted out the whole amount, Jacobson promptly held the jaw shut and Carson titled Sheppard's head back provoking a swallowing reflex even as Sheppard was grimacing at the enforced dosing.
Beckett then grabbed the bottle of water they had on hand. Sheppard was starting to be more aware, so Carson opted to not scream at him again.
"Do me a favor Colonel and drink this."
He got a bleary look, as if Sheppard was recognizing a former colleague at a party but wasn't sure. Thankfully he complied with Beckett's request. It was messy, most of it spilled out of his mouth and onto the towel but they still got water into him.
They stood back, taking a breather. Carson glanced at his watch. "In fifteen minutes, this is going to get very unpleasant."
Jacobson grimaced. "No kidding. Let's get gowned up."
Carson turned back to the more aware Sheppard. The man had clicked to being restrained and he was giving the nurse changing the towel a suspicious look.
"Hey Carson, what's going on?"
"Welcome back, Colonel. I'm just going to change."
"Change into what?"
"New gown. Hold fire for a couple of minutes and I'll be back to explain everything."
((--))
Rodney woke up again with a start. The sedation was wearing off and that translated into drifting backwards and forwards between awareness and sleep. Problem was, he couldn't work out what had jerked him back from his somnolent state.
Then he felt something crawling up his left leg, tickling the hairs as it went, a multitude of gripping, clawing legs attached to a creepy-crawly looking for a home.
((--))
Sheppard was wide awake, sizing up Carson with a look of anger and testing the restraints. All pretence had left him.
"You need to let me go."
"I can't do that John. You've been infected by a parasitic organism and you don't appear to thinking right."
"I'm thinking perfectly fine!" Sheppard pulled at the restraints again.
"Look, son you need to listen to me. We're going to do everything we can to help you but in the interim it's going to get worse before it gets better. Do you understand?"
Sheppard pulled again, upset, unhappy.
"I just want to go back to the planet. How hard is that to understand! It's my fucking home and you had no permission to rip me out of there. I didn't ask to leave!"
"You might feel differently later on."
"NO! Get me out of here and take me back!"
Sheppard was jerking his arms in an attempt to loosen the cuffs but the struggling was ineffective. Then he suddenly went quiet.
A nurse placed the container loaded with insecticide under Sheppard's face.
Jacobson took a protective step back. "To quote from The Matrix. 'He's gonna pop'."
Carson shot a half hearted scowl at Jacobson but had to agree that the quote summed it up. "That's not funny."
"I've got two choices here. Funny or scared out of my mind. I'm going for funny because scared-out-of-mind makes me want to run away."
"In that case stick with funny because I need all the help I can get."
On cue, Sheppard bent his head, retroperistalsis kicked in, his abdominal muscles contracted involuntarily and forced him to heave up the first wave of egg sacs. Carson and Jacobson both simultaneously pulled a face at the sight of the projectile vomiting and the black egg sacs breaking open in the pool of insecticide. Sheppard kept hurling and right about then, Rodney started screaming for help.
((--))
McKay had figured he was safe and just fine and dandy. That's what being in the infirmary meant. You might not feel great, limbs may have been broken, brain ricocheted on the inside of the skull, breathing hard work, lots of beeping and monitors but in general, the crappy parts were over. You were off whatever shitty planet you'd been on, and baring complications Beckett and his medical team would put humpty back together again, even if it involved orthopedic screws and titanium plating.
Being in the infirmary did not mean being felt-up by alien critters. Yeah, Rodney's luck – he'd appreciated within a few seconds it wasn't just one, but a whole family.
"Help me! Somebody, anybody, anybody with a gun or a weapon, anybody at all!" To Rodney's adrenaline soaked mind, it appeared his frantic requests were being ignored. He'd been kicking his legs around, pleased to find they hadn't tied down his ankles, but the critters were acting like they were going 8-seconds in a rodeo and he couldn't dislodge them and now they were biting him. Biting him with mouth parts that resembled serrated blades.
"Help me you sons of bitches! Seriously!"
To his relief, Carson came running to his bedside, his shoes squeaking on the floor, clutching a bottle of red stuff that Rodney couldn't identify.
"What's wrong Rodney?"
"I'm being attacked by those bugs, you idiot. Get them off!"
To Carson's credit he acted with lightening reflexes. He yanked off the blankets, got an eyeful of Rodney's legs crawling with insects, upended the bottle and squirted the poisonous liquid in all directions. Seemed he liked to be prepared.
Rodney closed his eyes, mainly because although he didn't know what Carson was liberally splashing around, the last thing he needed was to catch it in the face and go blind. That would just ruin his day.
"Determined little fuckers."
Rodney cracked open an eye at the sound of Beckett cursing up a storm.
"You've been around the marines too long."
Carson ignored him, concentrating on Rodney's legs while wiping off the insecticide.
"Oh hell, I think they bit you."
"No kidding."
"Hell."
"You've said that."
Beckett put the bottle down, gnawing his bottom lip. He hit his comms button.
"This is Beckett. In case you missed Ronon's call, I urgently need a hazmat team to sickbay for a sweep and cleanup."
Someone acknowledged his call and he turned his attention to his friend. "Rodney, I don't want you to panic. I'm going to get the nurse to help clean you up, and get you out of the restraints for the mean time. The hazmat team will make sure there are no insects left."
"That's nice Carson but excuse me for only being concerned about whether you have a cure or not."
"Sorry lad, as yet no cure. We've only just started working on sorting this mess out."
"Typical."
"You can do me a big favor though. I want you to list all of Colonel Sheppard's symptoms and any reactions he may have had. Don't exclude any detail. The more you can tell us, the better it will be."
"Yeah, that's what I want to spend my last hours doing. Writing up a medical report on Sheppard's delusional behavior."
"Rodney, I'm sure the life cycle of these creatures is a lot slower than a day. It's probably going to take a week for symptoms to develop and it's not going to kill you straight away."
"No, just turn me into a psycho."
"As if anyone is going to notice the difference."
"Asshole. Where's Colonel Creepy?"
"Donating some samples in the name of science."
A nurse had hustled over to Rodney's bedside and was busy cleaning the bite marks. His legs looked like Sheppard's had on the planet – incised with precision ground holes.
Carson put more sympathy in his voice as he noticed Rodney's miserable expression.
"Don't worry. We'll figure this out."
Rodney's expression didn't change. "Go do that voodoo that you do Carson, because I think you're the only one that can save our collective butts."
Carson didn't need to be told twice and headed back to the OR.
((--))