The meeting with Ladon Radim collapsed into a new and scarier crisis. Bombarding the leader with every question that popped into his head, cemented Rodney's notion that all the Genii were complete morons, Radim failing to offer any helpful information beyond his initial news bomb.
They had all assembled to discuss their options back in Elizabeth's office but Rodney couldn't just sit and listen; he tapped away on his lap top in search of information in the Ancient database on their new foe."Did you double the guards?" he asked Caldwell as the colonel entered the room.
The older man scowled at him. "No one is being allowed in the infirmary except for the personnel who work inside. We've got it covered. Until we capture the suspect, Colonel Sheppard will be very well protected."
Teyla looked up at Caldwell with a questioning expression but he beat her to it. "Everyone in this room is cleared to visit, as well as Major Lorne."
"Any word from him?" Elizabeth interjected.
"He's aware of the situation and has increased the number of units scouring the rest of the city." Caldwell splayed his hands on the table, searching the rest of them with his eyes. "We need more information." He looked at Ronon. "What do you know about this Order? Radim was less than helpful."
Ronon crossed his arms. "I know about the Rashakash from tales used to inspire our military."
"Inspire?" Rodney asked, incredulously.
"They're considered the finest trained killers. That's what soldiers do." Ronon leaned against the wall, eying the physicist. "They stick to taking out the targeted individual and try to avoid civilian casualties when allowed. Stories say that they often slay their victims in public, or display the body afterwards for all to see."
Rodney's fingers froze, his stomach twisting at the words but quickly returned to his research while Ronon weaved his tale of blood and carnage.
Ronon carried on in a monotone. "They're a sect devoted to political murder; destroying oppressive tyrants or leaders of corrupt regimes. It was a noble cause at first, but then, over the years, their religion changed into a way of life. Killing became a measurement of worth."
"They became hired mercenaries?" Teyla inquired.
"No. Mercenaries kill for money. The Rashakash kill for honor," Ronon corrected.
"How well trained?" Teyla asked worriedly.
"They're groomed when they're young; schooled in all manner of killing. Emphasis is on hand to hand combat and knife fighting because killing an opponent close up, by breaking their necks or strangling them is seen as a testament of skill. It means they witness the moment life leaves the body of the victim."
Ronon's tale silenced the group but he went on. "A commander of mine encountered a member of the Order when he was assigned to protect an ally of my people. The Rashakash took out the entire royal guard during the encounter. My commander lost an eye and was severely wounded. The rest of his men were killed. He told us later that the assassin's body armor was not affected by their weapons and his blaster was built into his arm- he was able to shoot just by thinking about it."
"Sounds much like Ancient technology- they were equipped with superior weaponry," Teyla concluded.
"I don't know. I was told they used whatever technology they picked up from the defeated- anything that could be used to improve their ability to kill and hunt. There is an internal rivalry inside the sect, each member possessing technology that the others don't. It all depends on what they salvaged during their missions."
"Like the Borg," Rodney commented, ducking his head back down to his keyboard at Elizabeth's look.
"More than likely he has technology to deflect the life signs detectors." Caldwell grabbed the top of the chair in front of him. "We need to come up with something else to track this guy," he said, staring at Rodney.
"We could modify our scans to look for heat signatures. That might help if thermal readings aren't disrupted," Rodney offered.
"What about motion detectors?" Elizabeth chimed in.
Rodney thought about it. "That might work but they're only good for a very short radius. We don't have enough to place throughout the entire city."
"We'll begin using them at major intersections. What else?" the colonel demanded.
"Have our guys pack extra ordnance." Ronon said, flipping his blaster.
"We may be dealing with a very heavily armed individual," Caldwell said, stating the obvious.
Rodney snapped his fingers, drawing everyone's attention in the process. "He took Sheppard's dog tags." He looked at Ronon. "That mean anything to you?"
"No, they may have been taken as a personal trophy. Taking out the military commander of the City of the Ancients would be a highly prized achievement. It wouldn't be used as proof of death- the Rashakash have more imaginative ideas for displaying their kills."
"I say we try to find out more about this Voulsh and begin another pattern for searching the city." Caldwell moved, grabbing his papers off of the table. "Teyla, I want you to head one of the teams, Ronon---"
"I'll be on my own."
Elizabeth would have none of that. "I don't want anyone tracking this guy alone."
Ronon wouldn't back down. "I work better solo."
"No, you don't," Elizabeth retorted.
"Excuse me, Dr. Weir?"
Chuck entered the room hesitantly, his eyes flicking to each person nervously. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I thought this might be important."
Rodney began packing up his computer, knowing that his lab would be the best place to study anything that might help them. His stomach growled and he realized he hadn't eaten in some time. He gathered up his stuff, missing most of the conversation going on around him.
Then he realized that Chuck had everyone else's rapt attention and he paused to see if it was worth his time to stay and listen.
"We got a message from the Narthions. They found Councilman Dobluis."
"The man whose tip sent us to investigate PMX257?" Elizabeth asked, her voice rising in curiosity.
Chuck nodded. "Councilman Dobluis was found dead in a river far from his town. The Narthions think he died a few days ago and requested our scientific assistance in the investigation."
Rodney looked up at Elizabeth. "Do you think the two are related?"
"That's a bit of a stretch. Would this Order go through that much trouble?" Caldwell asked.
"To the Rashakash, killing Sheppard is more than a job. It's a path to honor. Heavy reconnaissance to study our ways is just one facet in a hunt," Ronon stated. "He'd take out anyone to cover up his trail."
The puzzle pieces of the past few days revealed a sinister plan; the assassin was a patient, detail-oriented killer. Brains and brawn was a terrifying combination and the realization of the dual nature of who they were up against made Rodney shudder.
And you screwed up and helped let him escape.
"Shouldn't someone tell John what is happening? He has the right to know," Teyla said.
Rodney looked around the room, knowing that delivering that type of news would be an unenviable task.
Elizabeth stepped up. "I'll do it."
"I think it would be helpful if we got to the bottom of the Narthion situation," Caldwell commented. "A man was murdered for dealing with this Voulsh guy, someone might have valuable intel."
"It's my responsibility to inform Colonel Sheppard about this. I think hearing the news from me would be a good idea," Elizabeth stated firmly.
"We need a cool head helping with this new lead. The Narthions may have a description of the assassin." Caldwell worked his jaw. "I'll tell him. I am his acting CO."
Elizabeth hesitated. "I---"
"Consider it one less thing to deal with. If we want to catch this asshole and ensure the colonel's safety, we need to act fast."
Rodney made his exit while Elizabeth and Caldwell debated who got to be the most unwelcome message delivery person ever. Maybe he'd stop by to see Sheppard before he learned about the revenge for hire plot- discovering something like that would put an even bigger damper on the man's day. After he left Elizabeth's office, it occurred to him that being around Sheppard could be hazardous to his health.
Maybe it was time to carry a gun on him at all times. If some hired killer came after the colonel on his watch, then the least he could do was be prepared to defend him.
Caldwell was bone tired. He'd managed to catch barely more than naps the past few nights and still had another meeting with Lorne after his less than happy side trip to the infirmary. But it was best to come from him, he felt confident. Dr. Weir was occupied with gathering as much information as possible from the Narthions, plus he knew that the expedition leader and Sheppard had become close and it would be more difficult for her to deliver the bad news.
He saluted the two Marines at the entrance and strolled in, nodding politely to the nurses that walked by, and was about to make his way towards the back of the infirmary when he spotted Rodney chatting with one of Carson's staff.
"Dr. McKay, find anything useful in the database?"
"I do have to eat," Rodney complained.
"This isn't the mess hall the last time I checked."
"Is trying to be a comedian a common trait in the Air Force?"
Caldwell didn't have time for banter. "Why can't you answer a simple question?"
Rodney rolled his eyes and sighed like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar who was ticked off at being caught. "Fine. Sheppard's been a royal pain in the ass lately and I thought if I brought him some of his favorite cobbler, it'd cheer him up."
"And did it?" Caldwell tried not to smirk at the confused expression in front of him. Despite what others thought, he didn't dislike Sheppard and wanted to know the pilot's mood.
"Um... well, I don't know. I sat it on his tray over there a while ago, but one of the nurses wanted to wait until they were done torturing him. Something about a sponge bath. I don't know why he hates them. All he has to do is lay there while some hot nurse..."
"Is he done?" Caldwell asked.
"I think he was a few minutes ago."
Caldwell walked over and grabbed the tray. "I'll tell him about the pie, but I need to speak to him alone."
"It's cobbler and well... I guess... I'll just head over back to my cave," Rodney grumbled.
"You do that."
Caldwell carried the food in search of the non-regulation hair in one of the last semi-private areas. Sheppard didn't notice him enter, too busy as he was trying to lift his injured leg. The pilot was gritting his teeth and grasping the bed rails hard enough that his knuckles turned white.
The colonel cleared his throat. "That some unofficial PT there?"
Sheppard was startled and dropped his leg unexpectedly. The pain made him groan and he wiped at his wet hair, plastering it back from his forehead. "M-maybe...Sorry didn't see you there, sir."
"I think Dr. Beckett might not approve of such dedication."
The Lt. Colonel leaned back against the raised head of the bed. "Just trying to improve my chances of getting out of here." Sheppard's brow furrowed. "You bringin' me lunch?"
Caldwell smirked. "Thought I'd make myself useful. You have Dr. McKay to thank for bribing one of the mess hall workers for the cobbler."
Sheppard shifted uncomfortably, knowing what the scientist probably went through to get it. Caldwell placed the tray on the little table and swung it over the bed for the man to reach.
The pilot didn't even hesitate, digging the fork into the apple dessert first and taking a bite. "Hope you don't mind," Sheppard said sheepishly.
"No, not at all, but didn't your mother ever teach you about eating your veggies first?"
Sheppard's eyes cast downwards, the words hitting a nerve. "Yeah, something like that."
The pilot's face grew serious and he looked up suspiciously. After swallowing, he pushed the tray away. "Is there something else, sir? I mean...you've got your hands full. Did something go wrong with the mission that Elizabeth didn't mention when I spoke to her?"
"When did you two talk?"
"Just a little while ago. She was going to a meeting and said she'd debrief me in time for lunch." Sheppard straightened as much as he could, his jaw tightening the only indication that it hurt a lot to do so. "It's lunch now," he added.
Caldwell wasn't much for stalling tactics; shooting straight from the hip was always the best course of action in his book. "Ladon Radim informed us that the families of the men you killed during the attempt to take over Atlantis hired an assassin to kill you. We believe he is the person who attacked you. We also suspect that this person is still at large and means to try again."
"Do you believe him?"
"Yes, I do. Ladon seemed very sincere and it makes sense, given how the guy was able to get to Atlantis undetected. And why you were targeted."
Sheppard fiddled with his nasal cannula, staring at some far off spot in the distance. "I try not to think about that day too much."
"You acted accordingly, defending the city under extreme conditions. You were outmanned and outgunned. I don't think very many individuals could have pulled off what you accomplished."
"Just did what I had to do."
Caldwell didn't give out praise very often; soldiers didn't need big egos. But he didn't understand Sheppard's reluctance to accept it when offered. "And I'm sure your team appreciates it. I guess your background in covert operations saved a lot of lives."
"I just flew special ops missions." Sheppard finally looked up at him. "Shoulda stuck to being a test pilot my whole career."
"Then you wouldn't be a leader here, Colonel."
Sheppard grimaced. "Yeah, I don't think some of my tours would have proved as interesting."
"I just wanted you to be aware of the situation. We have all our resources searching for this guy and I know you'll want to be kept in the loop so I'll have the latest report sent over for you to read."
"I don't want this draining our manpower," Sheppard said, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw as sweat dotted his brow.
"This is a great security risk, Colonel. We will do whatever it takes to eliminate the threat."
"We... shouldn't... be distracted while dealing with the Genii," Sheppard said as he leaned his head back, the lines of his face tightening.
"Are you all right?" Caldwell asked concernedly.
The pilot's left hand curled into a fist and dug into his chest. "Just..." He dragged heavily on his oxygen. "Tell... Carson's staff... to... be alert. Don't want 'em... in danger..." Sheppard's face was becoming an alarming shade of red.
"Colonel?" Caldwell went to the ill man's side. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Can't...can't..." Sheppard gasped, setting off two monitor alarms. One computer screen's numbers began to plummet, while the other skyrocketed.
Caldwell hollered over the blaring noise. "Nurse! Dr. Beckett!"
Sheppard's body pulled tight as a bowstring as it arched off the bed. His head flung back and the veins and muscles around his throat bulged out. The pilot struggled for air, wheezing sounds like sucking off a straw filling the air. Both pupils constricted to mere pinpricks and Sheppard's arm muscles contracted, his fingers clawing at his breastbone.
Caldwell tried to hold the man still, fearful he would injure himself. The taut muscles underneath his palms were spasming into knots. "Colonel!"
He watched in horror as a thin line of saliva dripped down the corner of Sheppard's mouth.
Beckett's voice pierced the air. "What's going on?"
Caldwell got out of the way before the doctor threw him to the side. "I have no idea; he just began having trouble breathing!"
Janet and Carol surrounded the bed and tried to prevent their patient from pulling out the various tubes he was connected to. Carol looked at Beckett in shock. "God... he feels like he's in rigor."
"Pulse ox is at 89 and falling!" Janet shouted. "BP 70/40, pulse is racing at 120!"
"Carol, get me the oxygen," Beckett instructed as he turned to Caldwell. "Did you see anything? Anything at all? Did he have any other symptoms?"
"No. We were talking and he seemed to experience a little pain. Then he began to struggle."
"Was it rapid onset?"
"Out of the blue."
"Damn, there's no reason for this," the physician muttered.
The younger nurse placed a mask over Sheppard's nose and mouth, as he gasped fitfully. The poor bastard was still awake, his hazel eyes rolling to the top of his skull.
Caldwell backtracked the last ten minutes in hopes of linking a cause to the crisis. "He ate a piece of that cobbler just a few minutes ago."
Beckett stared blankly at him, obviously confused by the statement. "What?"
"It could've been poisoned. What else could cause this?" Caldwell hollered over the shrieking alarms.
"Food allergy or a bad reaction to---"
"The meals this week were from my ship, nothing was native. I don't think he's allergic to apples and considering someone's trying to kill him, it'd be my number one bet!" Caldwell argued.
"Pulse ox is dropping to 86," Carol warned.
Caldwell tapped his earpiece. "I want a security team to the infirmary and Dr. McKay to report here immediately!" He pulled out his gun and stood right outside the curtain, eyes scanning the area for danger as Dr. Cole charged over.
"Bloody hell, we could be dealing with anything then!" Beckett exclaimed.
Two Marines charged over, awaiting instructions.
"Stand here. Stay alert for anything unusual. I think our target might be using a personal cloak and I don't want him to try to finish the job," Caldwell ordered.
The Marines answered in unison."Yes, sir!"
Caldwell turned to face the unfolding drama, his ears telling him things were going downhill fast.
"I'll get a vent," Dr. Cole announced after assessing the situation.
Beckett evaluated all the readouts and physically began to assess his patient. He took Sheppard's pulse and palpated his straining throat. Then he did the same to the pilot's stiffened shoulders and arms and pulled the sheet down to press his palm over his chest and stomach. "All his muscles are tight as ropes."
Dr. Cole hurried over with the ventilator and began prepping to insert a tube down Sheppard's throat.
Beckett bent over Sheppard. "John, I know you're havin' a tough time of it. Just try to stay calm. I think I know what's goin' on. If you can't feel your muscles, try to blink for me, lad."
"What are you doing?"
Beckett glared at his fellow physician. "I have a gut feelin'. I think he's suffering from acute paralysis and it's spreading. His lungs are seizing and he's losing all other motor control function."
Caldwell stood closer; Sheppard's eyes were glued to Beckett's.
"Please, if you can, lad, just---"
Sheppard's eyelids shut, then struggled until they re-opened.
"Aye, lad, that was great of ya." Beckett squeezed John's shoulder. "Okay, intubate him, but use a pediatric tube and bag him. You're not goin' to fit a normal-sized endotracheal down those cords."
Dr. Cole ran to his cart and began searching for another instrument. Beckett walked over to him and spoke quietly. "I'm goin' to give him atropine."
"That's risky when we don't know what we're dealing with."
"Aye, but I'm not goin' to stand around and do nothing. This is neurological in nature, I'm certain of it." Beckett ran over towards his patient. "I'm goin' to make you feel better, John. I know this is scary, but trust me."
Carol wiped away more of the foam from Sheppard's mouth. Caldwell felt like a morbid spectator and turned around, giving some dignity to the Lt. Colonel but continuing to listen to Beckett as the physician explained to his conscious patient about the intubation procedure.
Being paralyzed and completely aware of your body shutting down had to be terrifying for anyone. Caldwell considered offering a word of encouragement before he heard McKay's irate voice argue with the Marines holding him back.
"Let me pass you jarheads. Didn't you hear your boss call me? What the hell's going on? Where's Sheppard!"
Finally something to distract him, Caldwell thought. He hurried over to Rodney before the physicist gave himself a stroke.
"Dr. McKay--"
"Tell these baboons to let me pass!" Rodney yelled as the guards stood as an impenetrable wall.
The two Marines allowed Caldwell by, then closed ranks behind him.
"Tell me exactly what you did, step by step, after you got that cobbler for Colonel Sheppard."
"Why? What's---"
"Just answer the question. It's important."
Rodney rose to his tiptoes, still trying to catch a glimpse into the privacy area. "I bribed Mandy into making a fresh bowl of it. She's got a thing for Sheppard. I grabbed it after lunch and came here. Now--"
"She only made one dish? None for you?"
"She didn't have enough, okay?."
Caldwell could see McKay's vein beat on the side of his forehead, but he needed this information before he told the other man what was going on. "You didn't stop anywhere else on your way here?"
"Mess hall, then here. Now your turn!"
This wasn't helping. "You put it on his tray? How did you know which one was his lunch?"
"Beckett told me. Anything else? Do you want to know when I went to the bathroom, too?"
"Colonel Sheppard took one bite of that cobbler and after a few minutes he went into respiratory distress. Now, I'm not positive, but I'm guessing that it was poisoned. I'm going to radio Zelenka to come over and take it for analysis to verify one way or another."
McKay nearly folded in on himself. "Is he..."
"They're working on him. He was awake, but unable to move. Beckett's there now." Caldwell let the news sink in for a moment. "Is it possible that the assassin could be wearing a personal cloak?"
"Maybe. I mean it's possible, depending on the energy needed and a power source. A cloaking shield could be used on that body armor. It could explain how the guy has been able to slip past everyone and avoid detection. A shield like that might deflect our sensors and life sign readings."
Caldwell radioed Zelenka and stood by until there was something he could actually do.
He preferred if someone else tested the dessert, knowing how stressed out Rodney was acting, and to his credit, McKay didn't even complain about letting the Czech do the job.
McKay began wearing away more tile, walking in a circular pattern.
"I'm sure things will be fine," Caldwell offered as a weak piece of reassurance.
After the longest ten minutes of his career, Dr. Beckett came out wearily, the Marines letting him by.
McKay almost tackled the poor man. "Well?"
Beckett held out a hand. "Take it easy. It seems the hunch I had was right. I gave him a dose of atropine and it's doing the trick. Quite rapidly may I add."
"Then he's going to be fine?" Caldwell asked.
"Aye, the effect on his lungs was immediate and he's already fighting the vent, the bugger."
"Thank God. I swear he does this to me on purpose. It's to get back at me for kicking his ass at chess." Rodney looked at the two men who gawked at him. "Alright, so I only win half the time."
Caldwell rubbed his hand over his bald head, trying to decide if the day could get any worse, when Ronon's voice boomed in the room. "Zelenka needs to be let in."
"Let them both through!" Caldwell ordered.
Ronon didn't waste any time. "I heard on the radio that there was a security breach."
"We're still trying to determine that, but it's a possibility," Caldwell explained, not really in the mood to argue with the runner.
"What did happen?" Ronon growled.
Where did he begin?
Caldwell was back at Sheppard's bed, this time with Teyla, Ronon and McKay. The colonel was sleeping off the effects of his ordeal, but the ventilator wasn't necessary anymore and that was the best news yet.
Beckett walked in, nodding to those standing and sitting. "I updated Elizabeth and she'll be returning in a few hours from the Narthion world."
"You get Zelenka's test results?" Rodney asked.
"Aye, they were inconclusive. He couldn't identify the neurotoxin, but he did verify that the cobbler was poisoned. The colonel is lucky he only took a bite. If he had ingested any more, it would have killed him instantly. The toxin was very potent and fast acting but appears to be metabolizing very quickly- it's almost cleared his system."
"Voulsh did manage to sneak in here," Teyla said, smoothing out the blanket that covered Sheppard.
"Seems the guards are useless," Rodney grouched.
"How did he know?" Teyla seemed mesmerized by the quiet hum of the machines, but soon swept her gaze to the others. "Why the cobbler? Why not the broth or the juice?"
"Because he's been watching us the entire time we came back from the mission." Ronon didn't move from his place near the curtain. "He was in the cafeteria that day. Sheppard felt it. So did I."
Rodney groaned in self-hatred. "We argued over the damn stuff."
Caldwell looked at him. "You fought over cobbler?"
"Yeah. I knew it was his favorite and I gloated over it until he made me feel sorry for him."
"Did not." Sheppard's low raspy voice startled them all.
Beckett hurried over. "Feeling better?"
Sheppard sighed. "Stop...stuffin' sandpaper... down my throat," he complained in a harsh whisper.
Beckett handed over a cup of water with a straw. "You know the drill."
"It's not safe here. This place is too wide open and not secure enough with so may people able to come and go." Ronon peered out through the privacy divide. "Sheppard could be picked off easily; our guy won't take any more chances. He'll get more aggressive."
"Just... give me my gun. I'll take care of the SOB." Sheppard pushed the water away. "Not going to just lay here... with some target on my head."
"We need to move him. Somewhere more private, with one door in and out."
"Where do you suggest, Ronon?" Caldwell asked.
Rodney spoke out to the shock of everyone else. "He could stay with me. We could post guards outside my door, give them motion detectors. They'd be able to spot movement. I don't think a cloak can trick those."
Sheppard shoved away Beckett's hands as the doctor tried to keep him still, but the colonel sat up straighter anyway. "He's right here and I don't need a babysitter."
"You'll need to shoot anything that moves," Ronon warned.
Rodney stood taller, the 9 mil that hung on his hip strange looking with the rest of his civilian clothes. "I will."
"You can't be there all the time. I could help take shifts, be with John when you need to rest or work," Teyla suggested, everyone in the room recognizing it wasn't a request.
Sheppard's brittle voice did little to gain attention. "Excuse me."
Even Beckett had to add his two cents. "I don't think that's wise. Put a whole unit of Marines here, but the colonel still needs constant monitoring."
"A nurse could stay when needed and I think Rodney and I are capable of getting help if something were to go wrong. We could make sure he gets all his medications. John is stable now," Teyla added as she continued to fuss with the blankets.
"John is tired of being ignored!"
"I'm not giving him those sadistic shots in the stomach," Rodney grumbled.
"Ronon, just go find me my gun." Sheppard looked at the others angrily when the Satedan made no attempt to move. "Fine, then I'll get it."
The colonel pulled back the covers in a flurry of motion, but his arms and hands began shaking as soon as he reached for the railing. By the time he sat fully upright in bed, his breathing came in and out in raspy intakes.
"Enough of that!" Beckett admonished. "Just a few hours ago, your body went through a massive ordeal. The poison is out of your system, but you're still very weak even if you won't admit it. Now lay back or I'll tie you down since I can't risk sedation."
Sheppard dragged heavily on his O2, his fiery eyes drilling daggers at his team. "This... is... MY life we're talkin' about."
Caldwell addressed the pilot. "Yes, Colonel, it is and whether you like it or not, we're going to protect it. I'm making that an order." He turned to the others. "Do what it takes and let me know when you need a security escort to McKay's quarters after it's inspected."
"I'll go and meet you there,." Ronon said, hurrying out of the room..
Teyla spoke to the rest. "I'll return to the search and relieve Rodney at 0800 hours."
Caldwell nodded and tapped his com to arrange a meeting with Lorne about the newest development. He watched out of the corner of his eye as McKay approached the pilot.
"It won't be half bad. At least you'll be out of here, right?"
Sheppard didn't respond, the waves of anger and humiliation off the Richter scale. If he wasn't talking it meant less to argue about and that suited Caldwell just fine. He didn't envy the colonel being locked away with McKay for that long of a duration. For all of their sakes, he hoped that they got lucky before the assassin decided it didn't matter how many he killed to get at his target.
A/N
Thank you all for the all the kind words, since this is my first long SAG fic, I just wanted everyone to know how much the support has helped.