Evil Intent

Chapter 7

John woke up in his chair. Something was different, what was it?...Ah, his clothes. They were new and clean, and he felt as if his skin and hair had been washed. Then he remembered. He had been imprisoned for…hours, days… who knew. The headache, constantly in the background of his suffering, had suddenly exploded. He had started to vomit, but it had nowhere to go. The doctors had grabbed at him, ripped off the leather gag before he could inhale and asphyxiate himself. Powerful painkillers and anti-emetics had been pumped into him. He was vaguely aware of having been removed from the device, bathed and clothed. And returned before he could awaken and somehow (what a joke) put up a fight.

He was doing what he had to, the only option available to him. He had turned his mind over to the workings of Nash's horror show, strolling down the path of least resistance. Even though Nash had threatened the lives of the others if he resisted, John had tried to fight back, had tried to reach out with his thoughts, find some subtle way to interfere with the machine, slow down its function. He had failed, though; either the device's failsafe mechanism would kick in or Nash would up his level of sedation. He sensed Nancy and Kevin's presence but they were too frightened, too sick or too drugged to acknowledge him. He was concerned about them; if he was so ill, were they worse? The doctors, the staff, the thugs, Nash himself: no one would acknowledge his attempts to communicate – unless, of course, he was about to choke on his own puke.

John felt it all slipping away – health, hope, giving a damn.

Seventy miles outside of Colorado Springs…

The old hospital was an unexpectedly small building; most likely it had once been a private institution. It was set back from the road a ways, which posed a problem. Lorne's team spotted several security cameras, and who knew what other kind of protective measures – motion sensors, for example – they might run into. This was one occasion when Lorne wished they could have taken a cloaked Jumper right through the SGC gate. Luck was on their side in one respect, though, or Nash was careless in his arrogance: the property had ample cover in the form of trees and outbuildings. Infrared scanning showed few people on the ground floor; most seemed to be on the lower level. That had to be where they were keeping Sheppard.

Their strategy was simple: they took out the cameras then moved in fast, realizing they would lose the element of surprise once the enemy saw their equipment go off-line. Soldiers ran up, placed C4 on the outer doors and triggered the charges. As expected, they encountered limited numbers on the ground level. They killed all but two, who they then asked to kindly direct them to Sheppard. Down in the sub-basement, Nash's security force was ready for them. The Atlantis team faced heavy opposition, but flash bang grenades and return fire eliminated almost all of it. When they reached the room imprisoning Sheppard, Ronon threatened to rip off body parts when one of the guards hesitated to use the retinal and fingerprint scanners and unlock the door. John's friends and fellow soldiers rushed in and…..

No one shot back. A well-dressed older man, who they assumed to be Nash, and two men in lab coats were the only ones there, and they looked fairly calm, too. They didn't seem to be surprised by the people who had just come crashing in on them, armed to the teeth. Behind them was a hulking piece of metal – the object from Zelenka's laptop. At one end, in stark contrast to the ominously dark color of the machine, were three seated people wearing white.

While the soldiers secured Nash and the doctors, Rodney, Teyla and Ronon ran frantically to Sheppard. They were stunned by their friend's appearance. John's eyes were glazed and bloodshot, his wrists and ankles were badly bruised, and they were horrified at the leather monstrosity which gagged him. He barely seemed to acknowledge them. They did not know what to make of the bizarre contraption which held his head or of the strange metal discs which were pressing blood-encrusted circles into his forehead. They went to release him from the gag and restraints, but were afraid to touch the apparatus on his head. "Somebody get the hell over here and take this off him!" yelled Ronon. At the same time, Teyla rushed towards the other two helpless people.

Lorne personally searched Nash for weapons. "You won't find anything, Major, on me or my colleagues. Why would I risk an exchange of gunfire with you and your men? I don't want to get hurt. And besides, the equipment in this room is much too valuable. That includes your friend Sheppard." Nash's smile was sickly sweet. It was all Lorne could do not to strangle him right then and there.

They called SGC to request a medical team and an emergency airlift. As they gently placed him on a stretcher, Sheppard, who had slowly come around, asked, "How are they, the others? Are they alive, are they OK?!"

Understanding that he meant the other unfortunate victims of Nash's experiment, Teyla softly answered, "They will be alright, John, I am certain."

But Sheppard had to see for himself. He struggled to sit up on the stretcher, needing a great deal of help to do this in his weakened state. When he finally could see the others, he startled Teyla by saying, "No, where's Kevin!?"

"He is there, John, see?"

"No, no," he exclaimed in distress, "that's not him, that's not him!" Oh, god. Kevin had not been African American. Caught up in his own suffering, Sheppard had not detected that he was gone and a new victim had been integrated into the machine. Kevin had died at Nash's hands, and had been replaced by some other poor soul – yet another person that Sheppard had been unable to save.

Epilogue…

Back at SGC, undergoing interrogation, Nash was surprisingly cooperative. He described the machine's workings and what he had done with the terrible force it had created, at the physical and mental expense of Sheppard and two, no, make that three, innocent people. The small, mysterious nodules which fit into the Ancient prototype were inspired by neurons in the human brain. Their filigreed design, when compared to pictures in neurology textbooks, roughly mimicked the appearance of these cells. The nodules also acted as giant batteries which stored the devastating mental power that Nash's prisoners had generated. The crippling energy flowed and cycled through the device in a way not unlike how electrical signals pass from neuron to neuron. Other components of the machine concentrated the force so it could be transferred into Nash's pseudo cell phones, iPods, and other technology.

Nash even volunteered, almost gleefully, how he had targeted the defense contractor executive and the union official. When SGC demanded that he tell them how to retrieve the electronic devices, he just smiled and withdrew two news clippings from his inside jacket pocket, one from the Wall Street Journal and one from the New York Times obituary section. They were sickened at what they described.

What Nash didn't share, however, was that three more ordinary pieces of technology, and consequently three more lives to be ruined or taken, were out there, somewhere in the world.

John remained in the infirmary at SGC for several days. At first he was very quiet, and his doctors were taken aback when he suddenly asked, "Can you take it away? Remove it?"

"Take what away, Colonel?"

"This curse of a gene." Too many people had died.

(Nash was in a holding cell, awaiting trial and sentencing. Colorado had the death penalty, so...)

Rodney stayed close to John as he recuperated, always there if he needed him, even if his friend might not admit that he did. The night before John was going to be discharged from the infirmary, Rodney came to his room and placed a small box on the nightstand. As the Colonel opened it, all McKay said was, "Go for it, it's ok." Bypassing the traditional authorities, Stargate Command itself had decided on Nash's punishment, and on who would inflict it.

A few days later, Sheppard walked up to Nash in his detention cell. There was a brilliant flash of light…

Back home in Atlantis, on one of the piers…

Sheppard was flirting away with the pretty, red-haired woman from Astrobiology, enjoying their long-awaited golf 'date.' He grabbed his club and teed up not a golf ball, but a tiny, tiny phone. With a strong and confident swing, John sent it cascading out into the sea.

The End.