Impact plus 19 hours 0 minutes
Daylight had broken outside the Daedalus, but it was a wan gray daylight, with flurries of small, icy snowflakes swirling down. The wind rose and fell; sometimes a powerful gust would hit the three people outside the ship, making them stagger.
"Lt. Armstrong thinks there's a bad storm coming," Perry said, leaning for a moment against the hull of the Daedalus to rest. Wading through the snow was exhausting, especially since they were all running on fumes anyway.
"There's a pretty bad storm here," Caldwell retorted.
The third member of their group, Laura Cadman, looked up at the curving side of the ship and said nothing. She was undoubtedly calculating hull thickness and charge strength in her head.
Caldwell stopped walking. "Well, this is it -- the F302 bay should be right behind this wall."
"And of course it would be an intact wall," Cadman remarked. She put her hands on parka-clad hips and leaned back, looking up.
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking it might be easiest to go in through the top. The hangar bay doors are going to be incredibly difficult to blow up, or open. The wall ... forget about it. And I think we've already ruled out going in through the corridors inside -- there are just too many sealed doors and too much chance of destabilizing the whole area if we have to blow up all of them. But above ... I'm going to need to look at the ship's schematics, if we have anything on hard copy -- can't exactly access the computers at the moment."
"Talk to Dewey, in Engineering. I'm sure he's got something."
"I'll also need climbing gear."
Caldwell nodded. "We can probably find that for you, too. Perry?" He looked around for his XO. The wind was starting to kick up the snow; it was difficult to see. "Major Perry, report."
"Over here, sir," came a call from a little farther along the Daedalus's hull. "Could you come over here, Colonel? There's something you need to see."
Caldwell slogged through the snow, with Cadman trailing after. Perry was bent over at the waist and using his gloved hands to scoop snow away from something buried.
A severed human arm.
Cadman jumped back, one hand covering her mouth. "Oh God."
Caldwell frowned, looking closer. He could see bloodstains in the snow, now that he knew what he was looking at; they were difficult to see as they'd been largely covered up by the wind-driven snow.
"Looks like it's been ... chewed on, sir." Perry brushed away the snow and added, "Here's more of the body."
Cadman swallowed, but gamely bent over to take a closer look. "Do you think those wolf things did this?" The stories of shrieking wolves had been making the rounds of the Daedalus survivors. A couple people had actually seen them -- huge white creatures, slinking around the hills.
"It would pretty much have to have been," Caldwell said grimly. "Which means they've gotten much bolder, because they wouldn't approach the ship at first. The question is ... who is this? I thought everyone was accounted for." But the thought of a certain missing Airman crossed his mind. Damn.
"Everyone was accounted for after the crash, sir," Cadman said. "Since then, though, there hasn't been any particular effort to keep track of people. It's been such chaos."
"Um, sir." There was a strange, harsh note in Perry's voice. "I've found the ... head, sir. It's Airman James Stark."
Damn.
"Oh, that's not good," Cadman said, leaning over Perry's shoulder.
Caldwell saw immediately what she was talking about. The body had obviously been gnawed on and scavenged, but most of the head was still intact -- and there was a bullet hole in Stark's forehead.
For a long moment, no one moved or spoke. Then Perry said, quietly, "Obviously the killer hoped the wolves would eat the body and hide the evidence."
"They may not like the way we taste." Caldwell frowned down at Stark's grisly remains. "We're from an entirely different planet, after all ... maybe something in our body chemistry is unpalatable to them."
"Sir!" Cadman's voice rose in a nearly hysterical squeak. "I think there's something a little more urgent here than whether or not we're tasty to alien wolves. Someone killed this man!"
"I know that, Lieutenant." And, unfortunately, this was all the more damning to McKay, since the scientist had been the last person to see Stark alive. He wished Cadman had not been here to see this, but since she had, there was no choice but to swear her to secrecy and tell her about the sabotage they'd found.
To her credit, she listened quietly while he talked, asking no questions, absorbing everything. Perry covered up the body with snow again, and they went back inside for a body bag.
"So you think someone on the ship is a Wraith sympathizer, sir?" Cadman said quietly, shaking snow off her jacket just inside the cargo bay.
"I think there's really no question at this point, Lieutenant." He didn't mention that the Atlanteans were his prime suspects. However, the discovery of Stark's body had shaken that theory a little. True, the circumstantial evidence now pointed even more directly at McKay ... but the sight of that neat little bullet hole in Stark's forehead made him wonder. He doubted if any of the scientists were capable of that. It had the mark of a military-style execution to him.
"Perry, we'll need a body bag. I'm going to inform Ling she'll be doing an autopsy at her earliest convenience."
"What do you want me to do, sir?" Cadman asked, as Perry hurried off.
"For now? You'll go back to your duties -- namely finding a way to get to those F302s."
"If you need someone to help you investigate --"
"No, Lieutenant. Not at this point. And I don't need to tell you to be discrete." God, he hoped she would be. The circle of people who knew about the sabotage was expanding steadily. The more people who knew, the more who were in danger, and the more likely that key details would start getting back to the saboteur, whoever he or she was. "You'll need the ship's schematics -- go find Dewey and have him dig them up for you. Getting those 302s -- that's your priority right now."
"Yes sir." With a salute, she vanished.
If she was the saboteur, he and Perry were both exceedingly screwed. He really didn't think so ... any more than he thought it was McKay, no matter which way the evidence pointed. But he couldn't afford to think that way. He had to treat every person on the ship as a possible suspect, especially the Atlanteans and most especially McKay, until they had someone in custody.
He stepped around the privacy curtain into the sickbay area and looked around for Ling. The first thing he saw was prime suspect Rodney McKay, kneeling over Elizabeth Weir.
Damn it! Hadn't he said that McKay wasn't supposed to have access to either the sickbay or the engines? There was Ling -- Caldwell crossed the room to her in a few long strides. "Doctor," he said in a low, ominous voice. "What's he doing in here?"
"He wanted to help," Ling said firmly.
"And you let him?"
"Colonel, I --" She looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. "I believe I may have made statements earlier, regarding Dr. McKay, which were based on insufficient evidence. I think that you should disregard my recommendation."
"Damn it, Ling, you can't simply accuse a person of murder and then take it back! The evidence does point to him. Actually, more than you know."
Her head snapped back, sharp eyes going to his face. "Sir?"
"We found a body in the snow. It's Airman James Stark. He was murdered."
Ling drew a deep breath, clutched her hands around her arms. "How?" she asked quietly.
"Appears to have been shot in the head. I'm going to need an autopsy, obviously. The body isn't pretty ... it's been savaged by wild animals."
Ling's hands rubbed against her arms as if to warm them. "You said 'we' found the body. How many people know about this, sir?"
"Perry was with me, along with Lieutenant Cadman ... one of the Atlanteans. And now you. That's all, at this point, and I'd like to keep it that way for now."
"You said that you thought the evidence pointed to McKay ... for the murder?"
Caldwell glanced over at the exhausted-looking scientist, who appeared completely oblivious to them -- his whole self consumed in keeping Elizabeth alive. "The last person to talk to Stark, as far as anyone knows, is McKay. Airman Seavey related to me a conversation in which Stark and McKay argued, and Stark passed along information to McKay that might easily have made him a target if the saboteur knew about it."
"What do you want me to do, sir?"
"Well, for one thing, I want McKay out of the sickbay. Like the other scientists, I need him restricted to certain areas of the ship. And this time, Doctor, I want your cooperation."
He couldn't shake the feeling that he was condemning an innocent man, and, in the process, making an enemy out of Rodney McKay. But, damn it, he couldn't afford to take the chance. He had nearly 200 lives in his hands; he couldn't allow himself to risk them based on a hunch. And Ling, no matter the cause of her change of heart, would simply have to learn to see it that way.
------
Impact plus 19 hours 20 minutes
Ever since the Daedalus crashed, stories had begun to circulate among its frightened and, increasingly, bored crew. Someone had said they'd seen a piece of Wraith technology in the engine room, and that Hermiod wasn't letting anyone near the engines. Someone else had said that Caldwell himself suspected the scientists, and once the orders came down to keep the scientists under guard, it may as well have been announced over the intercom. And then, two of the medical staff had overheard a very public argument between Ling and McKay in the engine room, in which she'd basically accused him of trying to kill someone. Carol Ling was highly respected, not just in the sickbay but among the crew in general, particularly for being a clear thinker who refused to be swayed by popular opinion. If Carol had really said something like that, then she must have a good reason.
No matter how hard Caldwell might be trying for secrecy, the Daedalus crew were a tightly knit bunch -- a more orderly and disciplined group than the sprawling, bickering staff of Atlantis Base, but still bonded to each other in the way of military people serving a common cause in a far-off land. The Atlanteans were outsiders ... civilians. There had been mutual respect, but not a whole lot of love lost. Now respect had begun to fade into bitter suspicion.
When Perry and Cadman came in carrying a body bag between them, no matter how hard they might try to keep the body's identity a secret, everyone know who was missing. It wasn't long before the whole ship knew that Jimmy Stark had been found outside in the snow. And since Stark had been perfectly healthy a few hours ago, this only left one possibility.
There was, indeed, a traitor among them.
Keisha Seavey leaned against the wall, listening to the ugly tone that had begun to grow in the gossip around her, and feeling uncomfortable. She didn't know what to believe; she trusted her crewmates and couldn't believe any of them were capable of deliberately damaging the ship, but on the other hand, she remembered the naked vulnerability in Dr. McKay's eyes when he'd been holding Elizabeth's hand on the bridge ... his quick, hot anger at the idea of Wraith worshippers on Atlantis. She didn't think it was the civilians either.
And Jimmy Stark was dead. They had not put him with the other victims of the crash, in an impromptu morgue that had been created in one of the other sections of the ship. They had taken him to Dr. Ling. This meant there would be an autopsy. And this meant that maybe the rumors he'd been murdered were true.
Jimmy. She couldn't believe it.
Next to her, several of the enlisted men were playing cards on an overturned crate, illuminated by a lantern sitting on the edge of it. "Heard he was shot," one of them was saying.
"I guess he was arguing with Dr. McKay outside the engine room. Several people heard 'em from inside. Hey, Seavey was there. Seavey, you think McKay had anything to do with what happened to Stark?"
Expectant faces turned up to her. Keisha shivered, hugged her arms around herself. She liked Dr. McKay; she couldn't believe he was capable of ... that. But the alternative was to believe that one of her teammates was a killer, and that was even worse.
"I don't know," she said.
------
Impact plus 19 hours 35 minutes
There was a certain zen to pain. Rodney had never noticed it before. He'd always done everything in his power to avoid pain, going to absurd lengths if necessary. But now he found that a steady, low level of pain could act like a drug, dislodging you from your body and leaving you adrift. Maybe this was why people like Ronon and Sheppard jogged, for that detached feeling.
The pain, in this case, was the aching of muscles forced to perform long beyond exhaustion. His hand, arm, shoulder burned with a steady fire from the repetition of forcing air into Elizabeth's lungs. He knew that he should call Ling or someone else to relieve him before his hand totally went numb, but he didn't want to. He was so sick of being useless, of watching friends dying around him while he couldn't do anything to help. This, at least, he could do ... and so he drifted into a quiet place where nothing existed, nothing mattered, but the pain of his burning muscles and the feeling of the rubber mask under his cramping fingers.
An unexpectedly gentle hand settled on his shoulder. Rodney looked up as Ling slid her hand down his arm to take over on the ventilator. She used her free hand to pull his fingers away.
"No, I can go on --"
"You've been doing it for two hours," she said, and the tone of command in her voice did not quite cover up something underneath, something softer. "Believe me, I know how exhausting it is. I'll have someone take over here; you go get something to eat."
As he started to get up, his legs almost buckled; he hadn't realized how long he'd been sitting in one place. And something else had occurred to him, too. "Hey, you don't hate me anymore."
A slight smile touched her tired face. "It becomes increasingly difficult to hate you on long-term exposure, Dr. McKay."
"Rodney," he said pointedly.
She nodded, and the smile became a bit wider. "Carol."
Rodney immediately went into flustered mode, as he generally did on the somewhat-rare occasions when women were nice to him. "So, well, I'll just ... yeah." He turned away and nearly bumped into a soldier. He tried to go around, only to have his way blocked.
"Excuse me, you're in my space."
The soldier had a face like stone. "I'm your escort, sir."
"I don't want or need an escort, unless she's blond with legs up to here."
The stone face didn't crack a smile. "Colonel's orders, sir."
"Oh, is that right?"
"It's for your own protection."
Rodney sneered. He'd heard that one before. "How very considerate of Caldwell. I'll be sure and thank him the next time I see him. Fine, 'escort' me all you like. I'm going to get something to eat, so you're welcome to 'escort' me to that, too."
He pulled back the curtain to the main part of the cargo bay. It was colder out there than in the sickbay area; Rodney could see his breath, and he hunched his shoulders and withdrew his hands into the sleeves of his jacket. He had to pause while he tried to figure out which way he wanted to go. Engine room ... Radek. Or check up on the scientists. Or find food. Maybe sleep. He felt so strange and purposeless. Protecting people was Sheppard's thing. Fixing them was Beckett's. He wasn't suited for this; he had a function, and he was damn good at it, but they wouldn't let him do it, so he was stuck playing somebody else's role. And he was pretty much positive by now that, as he'd told Radek earlier, help wasn't coming. At the very least, it wasn't coming in time to do them much good. In a month, maybe, or a year, Atlantis would find them. They'd probably all be wolf food by then.
Walking in a haze, he was most of the way across the cargo bay before he noticed that he was heading in the direction of the scientists. Well, all right. He hadn't checked on them in a while. And maybe one of them had come up with a useful idea for contacting Atlantis. It could happen. Not very likely, but it could.
He slowed, though, as he began to notice how the groups of soldiers -- lying on bedrolls or sitting on crates -- fell silent in their conversation as he passed by. And people kept looking at him. Suspicious faces, with ugliness in them.
His skin crawled. He told himself that it was his imagination, that he'd been awake for too long and his native paranoia was getting the better of him. The thing Elizabeth had feared, the scapegoating of the scientists ... it couldn't possibly have spread to the general Daedalus crew so quickly, could it?
The scientists had made themselves a little nest among the crates and laid down sleeping bags. An airman guarded them -- and, this time, Rodney noticed that the young man was looking not at the scientists, but out towards the room. He really was guarding them. He nodded to Rodney's own guard as the two came closer.
Rodney's bad feeling got worse. He could feel eyes on his back. He didn't like this at all.
The scientists responded to his presence with half-hearted acknowledgment. Miko sat up quickly and tried to look attentive; some of the others made attempts to look as if they weren't simply killing time with hand-held video games and other distractions. Most of them were simply too stressed and dispirited to even try to look alert. Some of them were asleep; Rodney envied them. He sat down on a crate.
"Is there any news?" Miko asked shyly. "Do they have the engines fixed yet?"
Rodney waved a hand around them, at the cold, dark cargo bay. "I'll forgive the obvious stupidity of that question because it's been a hell of a day," he said shortly.
One of the engineers, Dr. Sebok, spoke up from his position on the floor. A quiet man with a light Hungarian accent, he reminded Rodney briefly, stingingly, of Radek. "We have offered to help them, but they are having none of it."
"They don't trust us," Miko said quietly.
You don't know the half of it, Rodney thought, and then looked over his shoulder in surprise as an argument broke out elsewhere in the cargo bay. From here, he couldn't tell what was going on -- just that a group of airmen were having some sort of vicious disagreement, with a lot of arm-waving. Rodney recognized one of them as the black girl who'd been holding Elizabeth's hand on the bridge ... Seavey, her name was. The rest were unfamiliar to him, but he could tell that there were two factions. It seemed to be Seavey and a couple of other people, versus about a half-dozen belligerent-looking soldiers.
Suddenly several of them turned their backs on the rest and started across the cargo bay -- towards the scientists.
Rodney scrambled to his feet, his mouth going dry. He noticed that the two airmen guarding them had turned towards the commotion as well, looking uncertain. Glancing at the scientists, he saw that only a couple of them appeared to be aware that something bad was happening, and those just looked bewildered.
Damn it, was he the only person around here with a brain?
The two airmen closed ranks to block the others as they approached. Their leader, a big burly guy with sergeant's stripes, said, "Stand aside. That's an order."
Rodney's hand went automatically to his leg, seeking the gun that wasn't there. He realized that he had unconsciously moved to stand between the scientists and the soldiers. Shades of Kolya and the Genii, all over again. But that whole situation would have ended very badly if not for Sheppard and his people ... and Sheppard wasn't here.
The two airmen hadn't budged.
"I said stand aside. That's an order, and I won't give it again." Behind the sergeant, several of the soldiers were fingering their weapons.
"Sergeant, my orders were to stand here and guard these people, and I intend to do that."
Drawn by the commotion, other people had begun to drift in their direction, and a small crowd of fifteen or twenty was forming around them. Rodney saw Cora Ludwick among the onlookers, wetting her lips and staring with an almost eager look. Nobody moved to interfere.
Behind Rodney, he heard little shuffling sounds as the scientists finally became aware of the situation and began moving closer together. One of them asked in a small, scared voice, "Dr. McKay, what --"
"Shh!" Rodney raised a quick hand, silencing her. His eyes remained on the standoff going down in front of them. Oh God, this could get messy. He'd told Elizabeth he'd protect the scientists -- but what in the world could he do against trained soldiers with guns? If the situation actually escalated to violence, it'd be a bloodbath. And he, Dr. Rodney McKay, would be one of the first to fall if he didn't get out of the way. He should get behind something. Hide.
He didn't move. Couldn't move, really -- he was frozen in place.
Seavey, a little out of breath, pushed her way through the crowd and moved to join the two airmen guarding the scientists. Swallowing hard, Rodney took a step up to join them ... terrified, feeling very out of place among all the uniforms and guns. Together, the four of them formed a human wall between the angrily muttering mob and the scientists.
The sergeant's eyes went to Rodney, and narrowed. "You."
"Me?" Rodney tried to snap the word, in an authoritative kind of way. Instead it emerged as a frightened squeak.
"Rumor has it you're a Wraith sympathizer, Doc. That true?"
Several of the scientists surged forward at the accusation, stopping short when a couple of the soldiers confronting them raised their weapons. "That's a total lie!" Miko cried.
Rodney just stared, so astonished he forgot to be terrified, even though the whole situation was starting to have a "spinning out of control" sort of vibe to it. "What? Where do you people come up with these things?"
The sergeant, and ringleader of the mob, moved forward. Instantly Seavey and another of the guards lowered their rifles, blocking his path.
"Airman," the sergeant said in a low, dangerous voice, "stand aside."
"Sergeant, I cannot in good conscience do that, and I do not intend to."
"What in the hell is going on here?"
Caldwell forged through the crowd, with Perry in his wake. There were at least three or four dozen people gathered now, all of them falling aside for the Colonel. He raked a withering glare across the crowd, coming eventually to stop on the three airmen and Rodney. "Who wants to tell me what's happening? Sergeant Wilson? Anyone?"
"These men disobeyed a direct order, sir," the sergeant reported, gesturing at Seavey and the other two.
Seavey started to open her mouth, then shut it. One of the other two said, "Sir, our orders are to protect the scientists. We were given an order in direct violation of our duty. We had no choice but to disobey."
"We simply intended to question a few people --" the sergeant began.
"On whose authority, Sergeant?" Caldwell demanded. "Mine? I don't remember giving any such order."
The sergeant faltered. "Sir, I felt that --"
"I don't care. In case it wasn't already clear, we are in a state of emergency here, people. Our first concern is staying alive. I won't tolerate infighting and no one is to question anyone without a direct order from me. Am I clear?"
Someone asked nervously from within the crowd, "Sir, is it or is it not true that Dr. McKay is a suspect in Airman Stark's murder?"
Rodney whipped around to turn a sharp look on Caldwell. The Colonel didn't meet his eyes, instead glaring out at the crowd. "No one is under suspicion of any damn thing. I don't want to hear you people gossiping about what you think you know, I don't want to see any amateur sleuthing and I sure as hell don't want to see anyone going off half-cocked on the basis of rumors and misinformation. Leave the civilians alone. Do I make myself clear?"
There were a series of murmurs which basically amounted to "Yes, sir."
"Then why are you all still standing here? Don't you have places to be?Dismissed!" Caldwell roared.
As the crowd hastily scattered, Caldwell turned to Perry. Rodney was close enough to hear him say, "Find things for these people to do, Major. I don't really care what. Set them counting supplies, send them out to explore, have them clean up debris on the bridge -- it doesn't matter, just give them something."
"I'm on it, sir."
As Perry left, Caldwell turned to look at the two guards and Seavey, all of whom looked very nervous. "Sir ..." Seavey said. "Are we in trouble?"
"Why? You did your job, Airman. Nice work, all of you."
Seavey looked startled. "Oh. Thank you, sir."
"I trust you don't mind staying here a little while longer, Airman?"
For answer, Seavey smiled, snapped off a salute and assumed a rigid stance at attention. Caldwell returned her salute, turned around and nearly tripped over Rodney. "Dr. McKay."
"Colonel," Rodney returned with what he thought was remarkable self-control, considering the circumstances. "I think there's been--"
Caldwell grabbed Rodney's shoulder by a handful of jacket. "Excellent idea, Doctor -- let's talk."
"That wasn't what I -- ow!"
Caldwell steered him a few yards away, to a relatively secluded spot behind some crates. Rodney wrenched himself free. "What the hell is this 'accused of Airman Stark's murder' thing? He's not even dead!"
"Actually, he is dead."
"Oh. Oh? Okay. Fine. But you know I didn't do it, right? Uh ... Colonel?"
Caldwell heaved a sigh and looked away. "Dr. McKay, I just watched several people I've worked with, people I've trusted, threatening a group of unarmed civilians. Considering the circumstances we're under, I don't know what anyone is capable of."
Rodney discovered that his hands were trembling -- with cold, fear, anger, adrenaline reaction, who the heck knew. He tucked them under his arms. "You cannot honestly believe I killed somebody! Caldwell! You know me!"
The Colonel gave him a long, level stare. "Dr. McKay, I'm not accusing anyone, and you'll notice you aren't under arrest. Everyone -- including you and your scientists -- is being kept away from sensitive areas of the ship. That includes the sickbay and the engine core."
Rodney balled his hands into fists, the nails biting into his palms where he was pretty sure he was developing permanent calluses. "I'm going over to the engine room to check on Zelenka, and I dare you to try to stop me."
The corner of Caldwell's mouth lifted slightly. "I'd never do that, Doctor. You'll have a guard, you understand."
"Fine, whatever." Rodney rolled his eyes, trying for nonchalance when he was shivering with anger. "And find me a medic while you're at it. That doctor of yours, Ling -- she never sends anybody to look in on Zelenka. If I get him back for the science division with one hand, I'm sueing you people."
Now it was obvious that Caldwell was trying to suppress a slight smile. Looking around, his eye lit on the first member of the medical staff who didn't seem to be actively doing anything at the moment, and he beckoned her. "Airman Ludwick, did Ling clear you for duty?"
"Yes, sir," she reported, snapping to attention. Rodney thought of the bright, eager look in her eye when she'd been watching the mob earlier. Not exactly a stable personality, he thought. Then again, he didn't feel terribly stable himself at the moment.
"Airman, please escort Dr. McKay to the engine room and check up on Dr. Zelenka while you're there. McKay is to be given access to all areas of the ship except the engines, the sickbay and bridge. Contact me if any questions arise -- me, and no one else." He turned to give Rodney a look. "Will that do, Dr. McKay?"
Rodney just brushed past him, not dignifying him with a response. Suspected of murder. "Escorted" and babysat around the ship ... banned from working on the engines ... When he got back to Atlantis, he was going to file a grievance a mile long.
Ludwick fell into step silently behind him. He wondered if he could talk her into giving up her coat for a little while.
------
TBC