Chapter 11
Rodney kept running, all the way from the labs, through the Daedalus' corridors, smack into the sickbay and controlled chaos.
Carson, Theodore Jacobson – Daedalus' own doctor – and the sickbay's nursing staff had completely surrounded Sheppard, who was curled up into the fetal position on a gurney. Kate had turned up as well, presumably towed along by Carson. Ronon was off to one side, wearing an expression that said whatever had happened, it had officially made him believe in the existence of hell.
It was no use even approaching the medical team, so he headed straight for Ronon.
"What happened?"
Ronon gave him the short, truncated explanation. As per usual. "A portal opened up. Those beings tried to take Colonel Sheppard again. When we got back to the village I called for help. Caldwell said it was faster to beam us over to the Daedalus."
Yet somehow, Colonel Sheppard was still here. Rodney prodded Ronon for more information. "Okay, so they tried. And?"
"And, I held them off. I think they intended to come through, stun anyone in their way. I fired my blaster into the portal. I think I hit one of them. I don't think they were too pleased."
"I bet they weren't," said Rodney. He was happy that Ronon had been around for the big save, but he was almost certain that their new friends weren't going to take 'no' for an answer. Also hitting, and possibly killing one of the beings would make them even more unhappy.
He tapped the comms button. "Colonel Caldwell, start spanning for any subspace anomalies. Especially ones that appear to be forming inside the Daedalus."
The response was immediate. "Did you say inside the Daedalus?"
"Inside, outside or in the general vicinity. I'll fill you in later. Just do me a favor and do as I ask."
There was a moment of silence. Caldwell had seen Rodney in action enough times to know that when Rodney asked for something, it was usually for a good cause. "Okay. We're scanning."
"Good. Keep me posted. Remember, as soon as you see anything, no matter how small, tell me."
His brain began galloping around at full speed, weighing up the options and it was a nanosecond before he realized that it wasn't a case of just sitting around waiting for a subspace fracture to open. They needed to take a drastic course of action. Not only was Sheppard in danger but they were parked on the landing bay outside of Atlantis. Presumably any aliens that came through the portal might decide to hang around and take a tour through Atlantis. His brain started pasting it all together. He should have figured that out before. Shit. The aliens had the same problems with their micro fracture that Rodney and Hermiod had with micro focusing their beam. They had an approximate position. Not an exact one. To find Sheppard they had to move the portal around. It was just as likely to appear in the city as in the ship.
He commed through to Caldwell again. "No time to explain Colonel but you really need to get the Daedalus out of here."
There was further silence before Caldwell talked. "Any particular reason, Dr. McKay?"
"Look, just trust me on this." He hit the radio and terminated the connection, not bothering to wait for an acknowledgement from Caldwell. Instead, he switched and got Elizabeth.
"Elizabeth, it's Rodney. We're getting the Daedalus out of here. I'll let you know more when we're out of range."
"You're sure about this?" Elizabeth's tone of voice said she wanted a better explanation, but hey, when the going gets tough, the tough take off and get to safer ground.
"Yeah. Give us an hour, and I'll call you straight back."
"How's Colonel Sheppard?" From the sounds of her voice, she didn't even know if he was alive or dead.
Rodney took a glance over at the melee of doctor and nurses, the sounds of clothing hitting the floor, people setting up IVs, the cardiac monitor, and taking blood pressure.
"I don't know, Elizabeth. But he's alive."
"Okay. Dr. Weir out."
Rodney heard the Daedalus' engines cycling up for lift off, the rumble buzzing up through his feet as they started to apply thrust. He relaxed by a small percentage. If they were moving around, they might stand a chance.
He stood for a minute, watching the action. Sheppard was naked, covered by a sheet, Beckett and Jacobson checking every inch of him. Kate was standing out of the way, concerned.
He wanted to stay around but there was no point, not right now. He didn't know what was wrong with Sheppard and considering all the guy had been through, maybe he never wanted to because it just got worse. Every time they tried to help it got worse. Sheppard was pitiable in his current state and that unnerved Rodney because he'd never thought of Sheppard as weak.
Maybe they should just quit trying to help him because they were just torturing him all over again. Shit. He couldn't think like that. There was a way to help him. If they could just get it to work.
Rodney turned on his heels and hurried back to the labs and Hermiod.
((--))
Carson was starting to consider whether he should start some sort of frequent flier club for Sheppard. The man had been dragged in front of Carson in a variety of sorry states over the past three years. If he saw a patient more than twice in the A&E back home, he would have been concerned and started calling in a psychologist. Sheppard was on a disturbing permanent rotation and that should have seen him bounced to Kate sooner rather than later.
They'd stripped him, struggled to get him to uncurl, got an IV started – this time they did blow a vein and searched around for another on the side of the hand - started checking over the vitals. Breathing okay, heart rate fine. Pupils equal and reactive. They'd drawn blood, got a rush on the results. No sign of injury except for the bleeding nose and that had stopped spontaneously. Just a man lying on the gurney, eyes open, staring at nothing in particular and seemingly unresponsive.
He bent down closer to Sheppard, held a hand in front of his face. "Colonel? Colonel Sheppard? Can you hear me?"
Nothing, no response at all. The limbs were limp. He lifted one, carefully tried bending it, felt a huge amount of resistance. Same for the other limbs. He tried for another verbal response. "Colonel? John? It's Dr. Beckett. Can you tell me how you're feeling?"
Nothing. A dozen neurological diagnoses went through Beckett's mind. Most, such as alcohol psychosis, autism, and schizophrenia he could immediately dismiss. In fact the diagnoses for Sheppard were relatively small but first he had to eliminate the obvious possibility of head trauma and some type of infection. He turned to Jacobson.
"Ted, let's get an MRI of the head and then an LP, check the spinal fluid."
"Got it." Jacobson didn't wait around. They took the brakes off the gurney, got Sheppard wheeled into the next room where they kept the majority of their screening equipment. The Daedalus was a big ship, on long missions and they'd been equipped with some expensive, but essential diagnostic machines. Thankfully, it was mostly human, mixed with Asgard technology. No A.T.A gene required.
He watched his most problematic patient get wheeled out of the room, turned back towards Kate – wearing a pensive expression on her face.
"Kate, you look like you've made a diagnosis."
"Disassociation at the least, probably brought on by acute stress disorder, and presumably by that damn device. Could be catatonia."
"Aye. If the blood work, MRI and LP come back clean, I'm going to have to concur."
"Lorezepam is the first line of treatment."
He didn't bother to reply because she was right, and there was nothing more to be done until they got to that point. Kate was contemplative.
"Carson, if we can't get him out of this…"
"We will. He will. The man's got more life than the Energizer bunny. Besides, if it's not due to the device, it's not unknown for people to recover spontaneously. Up to forty percent. He's got a few hours before he comes back from the MRI and the LP. Let's wait and see which way he goes."
"Carson, every one has their breaking points. I think he just reached his." She would have bitten her bottom lip but she winced at the action.
Carson put a conciliatory arm around her shoulders because everyone had their breaking points, even endlessly supportive psychologists. "Let me look at your bottom lip for you. Make sure it's healing."
"Carl's been checking it for me."
"And I'm sure Carl has been doing a bang-up job but why not make me happy and let me take a look?"
She gave him a small smile. "Carson, you're a sweetheart."
"So people keep telling me."
((--))
When he needed to, which was when Atlantis or someone he knew was in serious trouble, Rodney McKay had the ability to focus on one task for an abnormal length of time. Days. Weeks. Whatever it took. When it came down to it, he'd live on coffee and power bars, no sleep and medically prescribed amphetamines. Afterwards he'd sleep for days, eat everything not nailed down, and complain loudly and endlessly to anyone who'd listen that he wasn't appreciated.
Today was a coffee, power bar and no sleep emergency. He initiated the beam again, checked the statistics for the previous twenty something plus attempts, made the adjustments, microns and nanometers of adjustments and tried again. He'd added an additional twist here and there. He'd attached four small metal screws to the dummy's face on either side of the sinus to act as markers. The only problem was that attaching the markers translated into having to stick the screws into the actual casting of the skull.
He was expecting the usual result. Bits of Sheppard dummy all over the beaming platform. Instead there was only one item. The homing beacon replica.
"Yes!" He scooped it off the platform, showed it to Hermiod. The Asgard actually managed to appear pleased.
"We should repeat this a second time to ensure that we have the correct measurements."
"Makes sense," agreed Rodney. "Okay, let me just put this back into our friend here and we can have another go."
"You should shift its position so that we can be assured we can compensate."
Again, Hermiod was making sense. There were other considerations they hadn't even tried to tackle yet. Like what if the beacon had moved? What if it wasn't the shape they had sculpted for the test? They would have to keep Sheppard's head rock still. Had they counted on that? Had they counted what it was like to have to perform the same procedure on a breathing human being?
"Dr. McKay, are you ready?"
Rodney shook himself from his morbid contemplation and picked up the replica beacon, crossed to the dummy, dismantled it by removing the marker screws, peeling off the silicon cover mimicking the thickness of skin, loosening the screws they'd arranged on one side of the reproduction of Sheppard's skull and then he was into the side where they had created an opening in the fake sinus.
His brain kept conjuring up inappropriate analogies when he did this job. Kept thinking he was hiding the egg for some bizarre Easter egg hunt.
He finished, put the Sheppard dummy back together again, and joined Hermiod. They repeated the procedure, and were again rewarded with a beacon and nothing else.
"I think we have a successful outcome, Dr McKay."
"Yeah. Let's just be sure. Really, really sure. How about we go for ten?"
Hermiod didn't say anything but set the beam up again. Ten seemed like the magical number to Rodney. Get the beacon out ten times in a row and he might be able to tell himself that he and Hermiod were confident enough to try their procedure out on an actual living person. After that they just had to get Carson to agree to attach the guide screws to Sheppard.
Just a normal day in the Pegasus galaxy.
((--))
Carson had checked Kate's lip, found that it had nearly healed. They sat in the infirmary office, they drank coffee, they tried to avoid acting like nervous wrecks. Nothing to do but wait.
Eventually, Jacobson came back with the gurney and a couple of nurses. Sheppard was sitting up, looking around, somewhere along the way they'd managed to get him into a gown. Kate and Carson both dashed out of the office.
"He started coming back after we did the lumbar puncture. Still seems disoriented, but he's responsive."
"Thanks, Theodore," said Carson.
"I'll go and check on the lab results for you, if you like, or do you want me to stick around?"
Carson stole a glance at Sheppard, noted his befuddled expression, figured the fewer people they had hanging around, the less Sheppard would feel something was wrong. "Thanks Theodore, but I think we've got it from here."
"Sure," replied Jacobson easily. He beckoned to the two nurses. "Come on gang, it's time for some bad coffee on me."
Carson stepped up to the gurney but figured this was Kate's territory. He was just sticking around for backup, making sure Sheppard didn't keel over, or need sedating, or whatever hell else little medical problem was going to occur because just when he thought he might be able to relax, Sheppard would come back like a boomerang and screw up his case resolution stats.
Kate put a smile on her face, appeared calm and straightforward. Sheppard smiled back at her, then frowned.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," said Kate. "Know where you are?"
Sheppard gave the room a rapid once over. "Um, infirmary. I think. Looks different."
"Actually, you're right. It's the sickbay on the Daedalus."
The expression shifted back to perplexed. "Oh. Huh. Don't remember how I got here. Tell me I was knocked out, because fainting is not cool."
Kate laughed softly. "No. You didn't faint."
"Good. I think." He gazed down at his hands for a good while, seemingly trying to process his thoughts and not having much luck. Kate didn't say anything, just waited.
He held his hands out to Kate. "My hands are dirty."
They were. Still coated in mud, dirt embedded under the fingernails, grass stains. In the rush to get the diagnostics done, they'd collectively forgotten to clean him up. Carson had done a quick check to make sure there were nothing serious that needed work and sent him on his way.
Kate took a chance, tenderly took one hand, but Sheppard recoiled, pulled away and it wasn't fast. His reflexes seemed slow.
"Sorry. Feels weird. Hurts," said Sheppard, apologizing. Then he smiled shyly in a way that Carson had seen before in numerous children when he tried to reassure them during a medical procedure. They really wanted to trust him, but they also knew doctors tended to understate the truth so the best they could do was manage a small half smile. Hey, no hard feelings and you seem like a nice guy, but if you stick me with a needle I'm going to scream so hard your eardrums will burst.
"Carson will have something around for you to use. Got anything?"
"Aye, we've got your favorite around as always. Wipes. Should get most of the dirt off." He bustled over to a supply cabinet, took his lead from Kate and made it seem normal.
Sheppard directed his next question at both of them. "How did I get here again?"
"How much do you remember?" Kate pulled up a stool, slid herself over to the side of the bed. Carson came back with the wipes, handed them over to Sheppard, who started cleaning his hands. He was methodical about it, and sluggish, but at least the action was a diversion and seemed to give him time to think.
"I dunno. I was with Ronon, checking Halling's traps for him. Ronon… Um, Ronon got upset about something. I'm not sure what." He didn't look up at Kate but concentrated on cleaning his hands. "You'd think I'd remember."
"That's okay. We can talk about it later, it's nothing to be concerned about."
But Sheppard did seem to be getting concerned. His brain seemed to be putting two and two together and coming up with scary scenario number five. Carson watched him stop cleaning, move around in the bed to get comfortable and it reminded Carson that there were dressings to change, and he really needed to go and find some foam to buffer Sheppard's pressure points. Besides, after an LP, his back would be even more uncomfortable.
"Shit. It didn't happen again did it? They were there with us. It was them, wasn't it?" The voice started notching up in volume and pitch. "Tell me!"
"Sheppard, you weren't taken again. It's okay." Kate used the same even tone but it didn't have much of an effect.
"No. Oh God, they're going to come back. They're going to come back, they're looking, I know they're looking. Won't stop, they won't stop. They're never going to stop and they'll just keep hurting me and they'll keep doing it and there's going to be nothing left…"
And in an instant they were moving from relative calm to agitation and Sheppard was hauling himself out of the bed, muttering about not going back, and Kate was trying to get him into bed, but she touched his arm. She swiftly stepped back just in case his instincts to lash out kicked in. Carson tried instead for a full body block, stepping between the pilot and sickbay exit hoping he didn't get punched for his efforts. The only positive side to Sheppard's abrupt desire to get out of bed was that he wasn't out of control. Edging towards out and out panic, but not totally out of control - yet. He could still be reasoned with, but his speech had disintegrated into an incoherent rambling.
"Son, Kate wouldn't lie to you. You didn't get taken. Ronon saw to that. We're not going to let them anywhere near you. Rodney and Hermiod are working on a cure as we speak."
Sheppard stood in front of him, seemingly unsure of what he should do next. "You don't get it, it's all the same, it's all going to turn out the same. Like before. Everyone's dead, they're always dead, or they leave and they go away and I just have to keep going. I don't understand why. Aren't I supposed to dead too? I thought I'd be dead too."
Carson didn't know what the conversation was about but his gut instinct said it wasn't entirely about Sheppard's traumatic experience with the aliens. He modulated his own voice, kept it low, took his cue from Kate.
"You're not supposed to be dead. You're supposed to be with us."
Sheppard clenched his fists, tight, considered Carson, stared him straight in the eye. Carson returned the stare, not flinching, trying to convey that whatever else, Carson Beckett never lied. Understated the gravity of the situation. Maybe a bit. But an outright lie? Never.
"Why?" Sheppard had asked a question and Carson wasn't entirely sure what the question was about.
"I'm not quite sure what you mean, lad."
"Why am I supposed to be here? It hasn't made much difference. I woke up the Wraith, I swapped rosters with Mitch and Dex. People keep getting hurt when I'm around."
Carson spared a glance at Kate, who wore a look that said Sheppard had probably just assumed a permanent place on her client roster. She was concerned but hadn't taken over, and Carson presumed he was doing fine so far, or more to the point, he was the one in the way and he hadn't been knocked on his arse.
"Many, many people have been saved because of your bravery and dedication, Colonel. No matter what you may think, there's plenty of people around who are pleased you're here with us."
Sheppard didn't seem any happier with the answer, but he had calmed down enough that Carson could see his respiration rate was lowering. He'd stop rambling, was sort of holding his end of the conversation.
"Why don't you get back into bed, and maybe Rodney could come down later and explain what's going on."
As if on cue, the sickbay doors opened and Rodney entered, at full speed, in typically McKay fashion. Enough bluster and energy to power a couple of light bulbs all by himself.
"Hey, Carson!"
Sheppard jumped, looked like he was about to bolt. Carson wasn't too thrilled either, but remained where he was, moving in lock step with Sheppard as the man made a move to the side and presumably towards the door.
"Get out, Rodney. Right now." Carson let his temper get to him, and his stressed tone of voice immediately ramped up Sheppard. The last thing Beckett wanted was to have to start sedating Sheppard, but it seemed they were about two seconds away from Sheppard attempting an escape.
Rodney never was one to take a hint, or even a blatantly obvious command.
"Don't yell at me. I'm the genius who's going to save Sheppard's butt." Rodney came to stand beside Carson. "What's he doing out of bed anyway?"
"Rodney, for once in your life could you do as I ask?"
"I came to tell you that Hermiod and I have the beaming technology working, so good-bye homing device." Rodney sized Sheppard up. "How come your standing around in that gown? You look even worse than you did with the flip flops."
Carson was beginning to think the better way to resolve the situation was to sedate Rodney but that was before he saw a tiny indication that Sheppard was relaxing. Rodney, of all people, seemed to be calming him down. The only thing Carson could think of was that Rodney was Sheppard's barometer for normality, of all things. If the situation was bad, Rodney was a hysterical mess. If the situation wasn't bad, or actually okay, he was just oblivious to everything but his latest research.
Rodney was being Rodney.
Carson backed out of the way, because Rodney had somehow managed to end up standing in front of Sheppard anyway. Kate had managed to casually work her way around to join Carson at his side, and by her silence, he figured she was on the same wavelength.
Sheppard was staring at Rodney as if he'd grown another head, but he didn't seem inclined to go anywhere and he'd managed to unclench his fists. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but it was a long time in coming.
"Okay, I don't know what's up with the whole fish imitation, but if you're going to ask if we can make everything all better, you bet. I just came down to ask Carson to help us out."
Sheppard closed his mouth and tried again. "Can we do this soon? My head hurts."
Rodney didn't seem to find the response strange, in fact he wasn't really listening because he was wearing the familiar expression that said he was too busy mentally running the procedures to remove the device in Sheppard's head to be bothered. "Right, yes, completely. As soon as Carson clears it. We've got one problem in that you've got to remain still, and I mean still, can't move even a fraction, can't even twitch. That's what I came to ask Carson about."
Carson stood in awe. Rodney McKay was like a bulldozer. A verbal, socially inept bulldozer who was probably about one standard deviation on the bell curve away from Asberger's Syndrome, but bless him, right about now he was a miracle worker.
Rodney shifted gears, seemed to find the whole concept of Sheppard in a hospital gown slightly offensive. Carson heard Kate stifle a gasp as Rodney, hopelessly forgetful about people's personal space, put a hand on Sheppard's arm and then didn't even blink when Sheppard jerked his arm away.
"Oh, right, sorry. Forgot about that whole don't touch concept. Anyway, you should get back into bed because that gown is leaving nothing to the imagination and by the way, did anyone tell you that you should maybe invest in a visit to a podiatrist or a manicurist or something because seriously, your feet… Presumably this is what happens when people run all the time. What's up with your toenails and how come I didn't notice when you were wearing those stupid plastic sandals?"
Sheppard followed Rodney's line of sight to his bare feet. He waggled his toes. Carson got a view of a long line of minor foot problems that came as standard for nearly every person who put in a lot of miles. One black toenail in the process of working itself loose, some thickened nails, and one that appeared to have a fungus infection. With all of Sheppard's other problems, Carson didn't even consider them worth counting.
"It comes with the territory," said Sheppard.
"Then it's a complete lie that running keeps people healthy. Get into bed so I don't have to look at them any more."
Sheppard did as he was told. Carson made sure Sheppard was tucked up okay and once that little chore was finished all three of them – Carson, Kate and Sheppard – turned to gape at Rodney.
"What!" Rodney put his hands on his hips, scowled and pointed at Carson. "Time to pay attention, Carson. We've got a sinus condition to clear."
((--))
Ronon had processed his encounter with the subspace facture in the way he usually did. He got over it. That's where Sheppard and he were on the same wave length. They both understood that the luxuries of self pity weren't conducive to winning a fight. Afterwards, maybe, just maybe, he let himself process the experience in the form of running or practicing some martial arts of some type. Then he would eat, drink too much alcohol, sleep as best he could and get on with his life.
Denial had managed to get him through his life as a Runner and it was going to get him over the view down the subspace barrel of the Asgard related aliens.
Ronon found Hermiod to be about as threatening as a piece of toast but the aliens down the end of the portal - they were different. Ronon was a big believer in the fact that evil emanated its own unique scent. Something about it, he swore he could sense it, but it was always a hint of death, the smell of a Wraith. The Wraith's body odor reflected what they ate. They ate humans. They consumed their lives. Wraith smelled like blood.
He got the same whiff when he'd taken out one of the aliens with his blaster. The blaster that he'd set to lethal once he'd managed to get a bead on his foe and Sheppard's continued tormentors.
He'd insisted that he was present when they tried to beam the homing device out of Sheppard. They needed someone who could hold his own in a fight and he had a feeling an entire squad of marines wouldn't begin to cut it. If that portal opened up again, Ronon was going to defend Sheppard and everyone else in the vicinity with everything he had.
((--))
Sheppard had the feeling that somewhere along the way he'd lost his marbles. Well, maybe not all of them. Just one or two. He'd been running around, not paying attention and they'd dropped out. Presumably some other kid had them by now.
Carson and Kate had talked over the procedure with Rodney and he'd been there too, trying to listen but discovering he had the attention span of a gnat. A gnat with ADHD. He'd given up following the conversation because whenever he asked a question, everyone gave him a patronizing smile and Carson or Kate would offer him a reassurance that made him begin to suspect that what he was actually saying and what he thought he was saying weren't the same thing.
Rodney eventually left to get everything setup with Hermiod. He'd moved on from worrying about getting an entire homing device beamed out of his head, or the gray gnomes, to wondering why he thought he heard the call of an Adelie penguin. He glanced around to Carson and Kate and they hadn't reacted, and if there really was a penguin here, then they would have definitely heard it because penguins weren't exactly quiet. Thankfully it only lasted a couple of seconds and it was gone.
Yeah, he was crazy. Really, really crazy. Although not crazy enough to mention the penguin. Or the fact that he heard another distinct voice. One that sounded a lot like his father and that was as menacing as the gray gnomes.
"You always do this. You're drop the ball every time. You embarrass me. What kind of son are you?"
He refused to answer.
((--))
Carson had done the prep work with the guide screws in sickbay. He'd raided the surgical supplies for a set of orthopedic screws with a small diameter because Rodney and Hermiod had been using whatever they could scrounge up in the lab. Hardly suitable. Then they'd just had to attach them and that involved getting them screwed into the bone.
They'd numbed Sheppard's face up with a local, given him a light sedative and Carson as always, was amazed by Sheppard's ability to try and take the whole procedure as stoically as possible. Despite all that had happened, despite the fact that he hated being touched, that he was in pain, that he wasn't even making sense in places, he'd tried his best to cooperate. Attaching the screws wasn't very comfortable but with Sheppard conscious, it did mean that the process could be completed as fast as possible. With Jacobson assisting they'd attached the four micro pins easily, literally threading them through the skin and into the bone.
It looked gruesome. Carson reminded himself to load Sheppard up with some codeine after the whole thing was over.
Carson wheeled the gurney towards the lab, Kate assisting. Sheppard was still under light sedation, relaxed and aware. They'd had a debate about putting him under general anesthesia but the fact was if something went wrong, like misdirecting the beam into the brain, Carson wanted to know straight away. Rodney and Hermiod would focus the beam first, placing it into position before beginning the beam out process and when the beam was focused, Carson would ask Sheppard some questions to determine if any brain cells were in the way.
That just left one difficulty; how was Sheppard going to react to the fact that they were going to have to completely immobilize him? Or to seeing Hermiod?
"How are you doing, Colonel?" It was Kate. Carson snapped back to awareness.
Sheppard held up a hand, gave them a thumbs up. "Peachy. I like drugs, drugs are gooooood."
"Spoken like the poster child for abstinence," said Carson as a joke. He got a sloppy grin as a reward.
"You know, after all of this, I'm going to hate to go back to that whole drug free thing."
"You'll do just fine, and I doubt you're going to want to repeat the experience for a while," said Carson, trying to implant the idea that about all that happened was a temporary dulling in pain. Stop taking them and the physical and mental pain came back anyway.
"Spoil sport," mumbled Sheppard.
They arrived outside the lab, and parked the gurney. Carson entered the laboratory to check on progress. Hermiod was needed to help Rodney with the calibrations but they'd decided that the best way to handle Hermiod's presence was to keep him hidden behind some lab equipment, wheel Sheppard in, park the gurney and then immobilize him. If he couldn't turn his head, he wouldn't catch sight of Hermiod.
Ronon was standing in the lab, his hand resting on the grip of his blaster. Lorne, and a couple of volunteer marines stood off to one side, out of the way, but alert.
"Are we ready gentlemen?"
Nods from everyone, but no words. It seemed pointless to speak. It was either going to work or not and if it didn't it was either going to seriously disfigure Sheppard, kill him, and/or the aliens would show up as an added bonus.
Hermiod moved away from the controls and went to stand off to one side. Carson ducked back outside into the corridor, and they wheeled the gurney into the lab, swung it into position, lowering it to the exact height of the table that the manikin had been lying on. Then they let down the back so that Sheppard was lying flat. Carson found the easiest way to work from then on was to crouch rather than trying to bend over.
"John, remember what we talked about before? We need to keep you still."
Sheppard nodded, seemed apprehensive, despite the drugs.
"Kate's here and we're both going to talk you through the entire thing, so don't worry. No one's leaving you." Carson picked up a restraint, looped it over Sheppard's chest, pulled into the buckle but left it loose. He'd tighten the straps up when they were all in place. As efficiently as he could, he executed the rest of the classic five point restraint. Legs and arms in addition to the chest, keeping it all loose and in danger of slipping off. He was also aware that every time he touched Sheppard, Sheppard was having a reaction despite the sedation.
"You're doing very well," he said.
The next step was difficult. The one thing they didn't actually have on board was a stereotactic head frame. Head frames ensured that the head was locked into position for any type of radiotherapy technique on a patient's brain, or if a patient had a severe spinal injury. Any crew member that needed that level of treatment would have it back at SGC, not on some space ship flying backwards and forwards between two galaxies.
Instead, they'd opted for using a neck brace, then strapping down the head, padding between the strap and the neck brace as much as possible. Wouldn't be ideal but would hopefully be rigid enough to prevent Sheppard from moving around. He got the neck brace positioned and then between himself and Kate worked as quickly as possible to get the restraints tightened.
He tried to gauge Sheppard's reactions but Sheppard seemed to be concentrating hard on pretending he wasn't scared to death. "You still with us ?"
Sheppard twitched a thumb as a response. Carson called over his shoulder to Rodney.
"Okay, as fast as you possibly can."
Rodney didn't bother to reply, just began working, pushing buttons, checking readouts. The lab was filled with the hum of the beam powering up.
"Dr. McKay, this is Caldwell."
Rodney rolled his eyes, slapped the comm button on his radio. "Little busy at the moment, Colonel. What's up?"
"Our science officer just detected the start of a subspace micro fracture forming."
"Crap. Where?"
"In your lab. What do you want us to do?"
McKay slapped the side of the console. "Crap, crap, CRAP!"
"McKay, you used to be such a polite scientist. What's up with all the bad language?" Sheppard was trying to turn his head towards McKay and mercifully, he was failing.
Rodney checked over his own readings, Hermiod joined him. "Okay, okay, let's think here. Okay, what's the growth rate here, let me see…" Rodney checked on a console, Hermiod pointed at a figure, made an adjustment. "Yeah, it's slow. I think the shields on the Daedalus are slowing it down. Right, we've got about ten minutes until that thing gets its game on. It's enough time to get the homing beacon out."
"Rodney, I don't think so! You're risking Colonel Sheppard's life here. You're risking all of our lives," said Carson.
"You think I don't know that? Here's the alternative. This thing kicks into existence and the aliens, at long last, have their targeting coordinates. They know how to position inside the ship and whether you like it or not they take Sheppard. I'd prefer to have a shot at making their chances zero."
"Guys? What are you talking about?" Sheppard sounded anxious. Carson checked around in his medical bag, thought the best thing to do was administer another sedative and at least put him under. He'd have to be monitor closely for a depressed respiratory drive, but anything was better than letting Sheppard panic.
"No time, Carson! Just keep an eye on him!"
The beam appeared out of a hub in the ceiling and a thin blue stream of light hit Sheppard square on the right side of his face, in the middle of the four guide screws.
Carson watched the blue beam of light and then spotted another spark of light out of the corner of his eye. He turned and managed to get his first glimpse at what a subspace micro fracture really looked like.
((--))
Ronon had drawn his blaster as soon as he'd seem the first glimmer of light forming in a corner by the door. From his one experience down on the planet he knew that once it started growing it would speed up exponentially. Lorne and his men followed suit. He didn't bother to acknowledge them, but he did give them instructions.
"When the mouth of that thing gets large enough, they'll start trying to move into our space. Just start blasting and try not to hit anything in the lab."
He heard an indignant yell from Rodney. "Yeah, that's good. Try not to hit anyone, especially me."
Carson shouted at Rodney. "Now's not the time. Have you got that damned thing focused?"
"Yes. It's good. Check with Sheppard and we're good to go."
Ronon watched as Carson bent down to check Sheppard while ensuring that he kept his head away from the beam.
"John, can you hear me?"
"Yeah."
"Keep as still as you can. It's going to be over in about two seconds. Have you got any blurring of vision, a headache, anything at all?"
"No. Just feel tingling where the beam is hitting me."
"That'll do me, Colonel." Carson got himself out of the way as fast as possible, and sometimes Ronon found himself amazed at how nimble Carson could be when he wanted. "Go, Rodney!"
Rodney activated the beam, Hermiod worked with him, and over in the corner, the portal started getting very, very big. So much for the Daedalus' shields slowing it down.
Ronon aimed, made sure he targeted over everyone's heads, and then moved up closer, putting himself between the portal and the medical team. Lorne gently moved Heightmeyer out of the way, pulled Carson back behind them.
Carson heard a triumphant yell from Rodney, a scream of, "We got it! We've got it!"
And then all hell broke lose.
((--))