Chapter 5

"Where the hell did it go?" Sheppard demanded as he tried another hallway. He had lost the thing almost immediately. It left no trail, and was faster than him. He had met a couple of teams from other directions, so they had it narrowed down to a few places it wasn't, like in the direction of the infirmary (thank god), but that still left a lot of city, and the more time passed, the more places it could be. "Talk to me, Wilson."

"Sir," came Wilson's frustrated voice, "I don't think our scanners are picking it up. It's cloaked itself somehow. All I'm getting are you and your teams."

"Dammit!" Sheppard swore, punching a wall. "Ow," he added as his hand exploded with pain. Ok, not such a good anger-management strategy. "Ok. We'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way." At least the civilians were safe. As soon as she heard any of what was going on, Weir had gone on the city-wide and told everyone to stay in their quarters and lock the doors. Since it was the middle of the night, very few people had been out wandering. Those that were had been immediately rounded up by Sheppard's people and herded to a safer area. Everyone was now accounted for.

That is, assuming the thing couldn't go through locked doors. But Wilson would be able to see if any doors opened, and he had teams almost everywhere that could investigate it. So far, it was as if the thing had just vanished. Which, he supposed, wasn't completely impossible, considering it had masqueraded as a baby for two days. How the hell did he not see it for what it was? How the hell HAD McKay seen it? He felt his anger rise: anger at that thing for making him care about it, anger at McKay for being so right all the time, mostly anger at himself, for being such a stupid bastard. More than anything he wanted to catch the thing and kill it.

"Oh, dear lord," Lorne said conversationally over the comm. Immediately after that statement, Sheppard heard the unmistakable sound of P-90 fire.

"Lorne! Report! Wilson, where are they!" Sheppard began to run in the direction he remembered having last sent Lorne's team.

"Three corridors to your right, half a mile down," came Wilson's rapid reply. "And it's showing up on the scanner now. As Wraith."

"So the bastard was cloaked!" Sheppard muttered, willing his legs to move faster. "Lorne!"

"We're…here," Lorne panted in reply. "We're…ok. What the hell is this thing?"

"We don't know. But be careful. It sucks like a Wraith."

"It sucks like a lot of things," Lorne commented, and Sheppard suspected he was trying to make a joke. "But it appears to be dead."

"Negative on that," Wilson said. "I'm still reading a life sign from it."

"Well, hell," Lorne responded. "How much does it take to kill it?"

"Try not to. I'd like it alive for questioning," Sheppard panted, still running. "All teams except Stackhouse's, converge on Lorne's position. Stackhouse, take your team to get one of those portable stasis pods that we found last week out near the North pier. I have a feeling this thing's not going to go quietly to a cell."

His teams acknowledged his orders, and he finally rounded the last corner. Lorne and four other Marines were standing around the creature, which was lying on the floor twitching slightly. "Shoot it if it tries to get up," Sheppard commented, stepping closer.

It no longer looked even remotely human. It was now a round red…thing, with seven smallish tentacles, about the size of arms, and the one long one. It was bleeding an orangish-scarlet substance on the floor. Sheppard wandered a little closer, holding his weapon pointed at it. From here he could see the large feeding tentacle, covered with a longitudinal row of quarter-sized versions of the Wraith feeding apparatus. "Damn," he breathed.

"Sir," Lorne said from beside him, "what is it? I mean, seriously?"

"I still don't know, Lorne," Sheppard said. "But you heard about the baby my team found yesterday…day before yesterday?"

"Yes?" Lorne said hesitantly.

Sheppard gestured. "Well, that's the baby."

"Sir," Lorne said after studying the tentacle thing for a moment, "how did you think that was a baby?"

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "It didn't exactly look like that when we found it!"

"Yes, sir," Lorne said, then wisely lapsed into silence. They stood waiting for it to try to move again, while around them, teams began to arrive. By the time Stackhouse's team arrived with the stasis pod, ninety percent of Atlantis's military force was pressed in the hallway.

Sheppard looked at the pod, wishing McKay was there to turn it on. He should be able to figure it out, but he didn't want to accidentally set it for a timed release of the thing or something. Thinking about Rodney was a bit painful at the moment, though. He had a massive apology coming his way from the stupidest Lieutenant Colonel in Atlantis. But that would have to wait. Right now, he needed a scientist to get the pod to work.

"Are there any scientists on this channel?" he asked.

"I am here, Colonel," came Radek Zelenka's instant reply.

"You been listening long, Zelenka?" he asked.

"From the moment Doctor Weir came on city-wide, yes," Zelenka replied. "I am assuming that you are wondering about operation of stasis pod, yes?"

"Yes," Sheppard agreed. "How's it work?"

"Control panel's on the side," Zelenka said. "There are…six buttons, I believe. Do you see it?"

"Yep," Sheppard said, peering at the buttons and keeping an eye on the creature at the same time. He was now very close to it.

"Ok," Zelenka continued, "Second button from left opens pod. Third one closes it. First one powers it. If that's all you press, then it keeps contents in stasis without releasing it until either you release it or power runs out."

"And… how much power will it have?" Sheppard asked, aware that they had found the pods in slightly old, beat up condition.

"I do not know. We haven't run diagnostic on that yet. I suggest you get it to a cell quickly."

"I…ran a diagnostic," a third voice broke in, sounding hoarse and pained. Rodney.

"Rodney? How's…" Sheppard stopped himself before he finished asking.

"I don't know," Rodney said, answering him anyway. "I'm not in—dammit, I'm trying to talk here," he interrupted himself, apparently talking to someone in the room with him. "Carson's with her," he finished. "But back to the pod. You don't have much power. Once you turn it on—" he broke off, coughing.

"Run like bunny to holding cell," Zelenka finished for him.

"Good luck, Colonel," Rodney said, and clicked off.

"Thanks, Rodney, Radek." In reply he heard Zelenka's connection close. So Rodney was apparently listening with his mic turned off. Sheppard wondered suddenly how often the man listened in on channels like that. Zelenka too, for that matter. He suddenly wondered if all the scientists listened in on the military channel. Not that it was a private channel, but still…it bothered him slightly to have an unknown number of civilians eavesdropping like that.

"Ok, people," he said briskly, turning back to the wraithtopus.. "Time to do this thing." He hit the second button, and the chamber opened. It was about the size of a coffin, with enough room to hold one adult Ancient. Or in this case, one ugly red tentacle thing. But first, they had to get it in there. And that would involve getting really a lot closer to the still-alive monster than he wanted to.

Lorne had seen the problem as well. He handed off his weapon and took a step closer. "I'll do it," he volunteered, making Sheppard glad to have him in Atlantis.

Sheppard nodded, handing off his own weapon. "Ok, we'll do it. If it moves," he added, glancing at the Marines around them, "Shoot it." He looked back at Lorne. "On three. One. Two. Three." They quickly stepped forward and lifted it. It was surprisingly light, and Sheppard realized it still weighed as much as a baby. The thing must be hollow. It was unwieldy and slippery, though, and it took them two tries to get it into the pod. With a sigh of relief, Sheppard closed the pod and activated it. "Got it," he said out loud, mostly for the benefit of Rodney and Zelenka, but also for the people waiting in the Gate room.

"Good job," Weir's voice came on.

Sheppard smiled. Now to get it to a cell. "Lorne, you guys," he gestured at a random group standing behind Lorne, "come with me. The rest of you, as you were. And as Elizabeth said, good job." The knot of Marines dispersed and went away as directed, as he and his people carried the creature to a cell. The power held on the pod, and as soon as the creature was safely locked in a cell, Sheppard sighed in relief and headed to the infirmary, trying to wipe orangish blood off his hands as he went. As he walked, he heard Weir on the city-wide sound the all-clear for anyone who wanted to leave their quarters. Although who would want to be up at 3am?

oOo

Sheppard practically ran into a doctor as he rushed through the door of the infirmary. "Sorry," he muttered, skirting the woman and looking for Rodney. He saw his friend propped up in bed, neck wreathed in bandages. He was watching Sheppard out of weary eyes. He was no longer wearing his radio. Ronon was standing halfway across the room, positioned equidistant to Rodney's bed and the OR, leaning against a wall.

Sheppard sank down on a chair that just happened to be next to the bed. " Carson's still with her," Rodney said softly. "She was alive when she went in, but I don't know if…"

Sheppard stopped him with a hand on his arm. "He's the best doctor in two galaxies. If anyone can help her, he can."

Rodney gently pulled his arm out from under Sheppard's hand, looking with disgust at the monster blood smear that was now on his wrist. "Ick. I know. It's just…do you know how badly she was hurt?"

Sheppard shook his head. He knew it had been bad, but he hadn't stopped to look, trusting Rodney to take care of her. "No. How bad?"

Rodney closed his eyes. "That thing broke her neck."

Sheppard felt the color drain out of his face. "But…she was alive?" he asked. He remembered the answer, but he had to hear it again.

"She was alive," Rodney confirmed.

They sat quietly. A nurse brought over a wet cloth, and Sheppard wiped his hands off with it, getting rid of most of the blood. The same nurse gave a sanitary wipe to Rodney, who absently toweled off his wrist, not devoting the usual amount of disgust to having alien blood smeared on his person. "How're you doing?" Sheppard asked when they were done, putting his hand on Rodney's arm again, noticing with relief that he didn't pull away this time.

Rodney turned to look at him. "Are you serious? I was strangled and…and sucked on by the octopus from hell!" His voice rose slightly and he coughed. He stopped to take a drink of water before continuing. "The doctors said it doesn't look too bad, and I've looked in a mirror and I don't look older, but…but…"

Sheppard squeezed his arm. "I think it was more like the Iratus bug. It doesn't seem to make you older when it feeds."

Rodney shuddered at the mention of the bug, remembering it clamped firmly to Sheppard's neck. "Thanks for that image, Colonel. But this one let go when you shot it."

It was Sheppard's turn to shudder, remembering the bug that didn't let go, no matter what they did to it. "Yeah," he agreed weakly.

"Sheppard," Rodney said, looking at him earnestly, "if you hadn't come to my lab when you did, I'd be dead. Thanks for that."

Sheppard shrugged self-consciously. "That's why you should never work alone," he quipped to cover his discomfort.

"Why exactly were you in my lab at two in the morning?" Rodney asked, eyes narrowing.

Oh, good. This was the fun part. "I was coming to apologize," he said quietly.

Rodney looked at him a moment, then started laughing softly. He was laughing. Sheppard was just wondering how hard he had it the wall when he explained. "Sorry. It's just so ironic that you were, what, coming to make an insincere apology mandated by one Doctor Weir when you were confronted with the proof that I was right all along." He stopped laughing and looking at Sheppard, sensing he might have gone too far.

Sheppard felt himself bristle, but didn't give in to it. Rodney was right; he was wrong. Time to be a man about it. But Rodney was wrong about one thing. "No," he said softly, looking down. "I wasn't coming to apologize because Weir told me to. Although she did," he admitted, eliciting a snort from Rodney. "I was coming to apologize because I was wrong. At that point I still didn't know about the tentacle thing, but I was wrong to yell at you like that. And I'm sorry. That's what I was coming to say." He decided it might be best to leave out the part where he was also going to try to convince Rodney he was wrong to doubt the baby. That was one tidbit of information that nobody ever had to know.

Rodney looked at him for a long moment, then waved a hand dismissively. "Oh that? So what? Back on earth I used to get dressed down in front of everyone on a semi-regular basis."

Sheppard stared. "You weren't mad?"

"Oh, I was plenty mad. Just not about that. I was mad because you and the others were being so…so…" He clenched his fist in frustration, unable to find the words he was looking for. Or unable to say them.

"We trusted a stranger more than we trusted you," Sheppard said softly, catching on. This was what the Chaya thing had been about last year, as well. He hadn't seen it until now.

"Well, yeah," Rodney said. "That, and dammit, I was right about Chaya! I was right. You should be able to give my intuition a little bit of credibility after that."

Sheppard shifted uncomfortably. Chaya hadn't been a threat, but she could have been. And the baby octopus from hell certainly had been. "I will after this," he conceded. Rodney opened his mouth to say something, but Sheppard cut him off. "Why exactly were you so suspicious? What did you see that we didn't?"

Rodney's mouth quirked. "While you all were cooing over the cute little baby, I was looking at the facts."

"Are you saying we let our emotions get in the way?" Sheppard asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why no, Colonel. It's completely logical go lapse into baby talk the moment you see something like that." The half-smile dropped from his face when he saw Sheppard's expression. "I'm sorry it wasn't real," he said gently.

Sheppard grimaced. "Me too. I can't believe I got to attached in so short a time."

"You're biological clock must be ticking," Rodney commented, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "But seriously," he added, "when we found it, it was too healthy. And then, did you notice that every time someone would comment on that, and then say what it should be experiencing, then bam, it started to? We noticed it was dehydrated right after someone said it should be."

Sheppard stared. "You're right! And that means, it understands our language. I'm going to be having a nice, long talk with this thing when it wakes up."

Rodney shuddered. "Not me. I do wonder what it is, though. It seems to be another Wraith-like being, but with a lot more intelligence than the Iratus bug." He stopped talking and started coughing again, touching his throat in pain.

A doctor stepped forward. "Dr. McKay, you're going to have to stop talking. Colonel, if you keep making him converse with you, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Rodney rolled his eyes at Sheppard, then made the universal symbol for locking his lips and throwing away the key. Sheppard stifled a grin. "I'll be good."

The doctor nodded and walked away. Rodney opened his mouth, but Sheppard held up a hand. "No, the doc is right. You shouldn't hurt your throat any more. Get some rest. I'll wake you when Carson comes out."

"I'm fine," Rodney protested, mostly for the sake of defiance. After that, though, he did as he was told, and was soon breathing with the heavy evenness of deep, well-deserved sleep.