Part 11
Once through the gate, the embarkation room fell into controlled chaos.
Dr. Weir waited quietly, watching the commotion play out before her.
Colonel Sheppard moved as if his back and head were made of delicate glass. He weaved delicately in through the medical teams, avoiding their touch.
Three stretches lay in an arc before the gate.
"Carson, quit moving," Rodney's disembodied voice came from the stretcher in the middle.
The one to the left rocked a bit. Carson, Weir mused.
Doctor Beckett wiggled and twisted. He finally rasped something inarticulate frustration and a hint of short temper laced the sounds. He lifted a shoulder abruptly in an attempt to loosen the straps that secured him.
"Yes, Carson, we are finally back in Atlantis," Rodney answered tired from his stretcher.
Doctor Weir furrowed her brow and tilted her head at McKay's response.
Beckett continued to wiggle and tried kicking his trapped feet free. He rasped something again.
"Yes! Carson! Atlantis! We're! On! Atlantis!" Rodney shouted.
Medical personal as well as military paused in their work and stared at the two stretches.
One continued to slightly move.
Beckett tried tossing his weight to the left and then the right. The stretcher merely scratched against the floor.
"He can't hear you, McKay," Ronon said. Dex reached out and grabbed Sheppard who tried to stagger down the three steps and away from the working medical teams. Ronon noticed the medics avoided their boss's stretcher and focused on the more compliant patients. Teyla and at the moment McKay.
Beckett rasped again and tried tossing himself to the right first and then the left. He gained very little freedom. Once again he loudly hissed an inarticulate string of sounds.
"Then why's he keep asking about where we are?" Rodney impatience was tempered with the incessant pain in his legs and shoulder.
The others in the embarkation room stared at one another, waiting for someone to dare correct Doctor McKay.
"I think sir, he's saying he wants loose," a soldier from Germany stated.
"What? You got that from….that?" McKay tried to turn his head to stare at Beckett some where to his left.
Carson rasped again, infusing a little more anger than frustration and tried to wrestle himself into a sitting position. The straps held true. He rasped again, more red faced than was probably good for him. He fell back within the confines of his blankets.
Ronon stood hip shot next to Sheppard and nodded. "Yeah, McKay he says wants someone to let him loose."
McKay settled back into his sleeping bag, content to be warm. "Really? You really think so?"
A series of 'yes's and 'yeahs' floated around the room.
"Oh." McKay closed his eyes.
Medics began packing away their supplies and directed stretches toward the infirmary.
Dex had his hands full with Colonel Sheppard. The small group slowly made their way from the embarkation room.
Captain Bishop dismissed his men.
Jones was already gone.
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Hours later found SGA-1 still confined to the infirmary.
The place was a hive of activity. Beckett sat on the edge of an infirmary bed, draped in a heated white blanket. He occasionally banged a hand against the bedrail. He'd flex his fingers and then banged the back of his heel against the side of the bed. Metal scratched against metal.
Ronon found the sound irritating. He watched for a moment before deciding the doctor was testing the extent of the pins and needles that were the lingering effect of the stun blast.
A shot Dex had no plans to apologize for.
The Satedan cringed when Beckett slammed his heel into his bed frame again and metal creaked against metal with a spine twisting sound.
Ronon fingered his blaster. If Carson kept it up he'd find himself testing the effects of second stun blast sooner rather than later.
Beckett's eyes remained wrapped, ensconced in fresh medication and bandages. His staff had run him through scanner after scanner. They had hemmed and hawed over images made of swirled color patterns and structures Ronon didn't begin to understand. In the end, the medical staff accepted Specialist Dex's pronouncement that the hearing loss and dizziness were the temporary side effects from the frightful Snow Yeti. In turn, the medical staff had assured the Satedan, Colonel Sheppard and Doctor Weir that the damage to Carson's eyes and throat, though painful and inconveniencing, were temporary.
Fair enough.
McKay flirted with the conscious world. Scans indicated he had deep muscle and bone bruising to his lower leg and shoulder. The lateral collateral ligament of McKay's right knee was strained at its insertion. His ankle was badly swollen and bruised, sprained. There had been trauma of some sort but without an obvious visual fracture. A possible hairline fracture to his collarbone may need further imaging. All were painful but nothing life threatening. A solid, heavy bruise encompassed his jaw, and from the pattern, it appeared to be caused by Beckett's boot. At some point Carson had kicked Rodney in the mouth. However, it did not explain the coup-countercoup type injury that appeared on the scans. Nor did it explain the cause for the neat row of stitches arched at the corner of his forehead.
Ronon supplied the tiny tidbit about the explosion and massive slide of tumbling rock. That had the doctors nodding with exaggerated care and drawn out 'ahhhs'. Rodney's multiple and spectacularly colorful bruises and soft tissue damages suddenly had an explanation.
Hypothermia and prolonged exposure to the cold had exhausted the man. Doused with pain medication and buried under freshly warmed blankets, McKay flirted haphazardly with the waking world.
Ronon was impressed with McKay's ability to not only remain on his feet back on the planet, but keep Beckett moving. The ex-runner would remain silent and keep his admirations to himself. He would push McKay harder the next time they were in trouble off world. The astrophysicist was not soft---well not as doughy as he appeared.
Ronon stood between Carson and Teyla's bed. Like McKay and Beckett, she was dressed in scrubs and tucked into a bed. An IV running fluids fed into the back of her fine boned hand. A moderate concussion would keep the Athosian off her feet for a few days. She too suffered the early stages of hypothermia. Teyla would be forced to endure the harassment of constant monitoring for the next twenty four hours.
Ronon felt a pang of sympathy for the Athosian.
Sheppard sat gingerly on the side of a bed, barefoot with ankles crossed, waiting with an air of forced impatience. Truthfully, the Colonel appeared as if he'd be happy to just tip sideways onto the bed and sleep for the next week. Butterfly sutures rimmed the corner of his forehead. The white tape stood out brilliantly against the deep maroons and blues that encompassed his black eye, compliments of Beckett only the day before. He avoided any major broken bones but his 'bell' had been rung, if Ronon had heard correctly. He wasn't familiar with the phrase but understood the context. Sheppard should be staying in the infirmary, but the staff had long ago given up fighting him.
The Colonel would be under Ronon's watchful eye tonight.
The Satedan looked to Beckett, who now poked at his face experimentally, testing the pins and needles. Ronon sighed and shook his head. Keeping a watchful eye on the physician would fall to him as well.
Carson was loved by his medical staff when he was acting CMO, healthy, and somewhat rested. When he was a patient, the Scot was eagerly dismissed to his quarters as soon as possible.
A calloused heel rattled the bed frame. Metal scraped metal.
Ronon gritted his teeth.
Tonight, Colonel Sheppard and Doctor Beckett would be released into Ronon's care.
Carson thudded his heel against the bed frame with more vigor. Metal screeched.
Special Dex was not pleased with the thought, but accepted the duty as a burden he must bear as a friend.
The Satedan's attention was diverted from thoughts of stunning Beckett into oblivion again with the approach of Doctor Morrison. "Specialist Dex."
Ronon grunted. If he stunned Beckett, the Scot would remain in the infirmary and it would be one less person to watch over.
"You are familiar with the drill for monitoring Colonel Sheppard?"
Dex grunted again. Beckett's heel smacked solidly with the bed frame. Metal squeaked with high pitch intensity.
People flinched.
Carson remained oblivious to the sound.
"Carson! Knock it off!" Sheppard hissed, rubbing at the side of his head.
Beckett swung his heels unaware of the displeasure around him. He rat-tattered his feet off the bed frame again.
"Damn it, Carson!" Sheppard ground out. The colonel, in an act of desperation, picked up a pillow and threw it at the Scot.
It missed.
Multiple, disappointed sighs echoed around the room.
Doctor Morrison growled quietly and briefly closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Doctor Beckett will only need assistance getting to his quarters and settled. We want them…" Morrison ground his teeth when Beckett slammed a heel into the bed frame again.
Metal shrieked.
Carson wiggled his toes. A smile brightened his face. Ronon figured the pins and needles were dissipating.
Sheppard reached for a metal basin. A nurse walked by and simply slipped it from his throwing hand and took it.
The surgeon sighed, "They both need to be rechecked come morning."
"You sure?"
The bed rattled again. Metal squealed. People not required in the area left.
"Unfortunately, yes." Morrison raised his head and stared at Dex. "Please, take them out of here."
"I'll take Sheppard first and then come back for the doc."
It wasn't what Morrison wanted to hear.
Another heel struck the bed. High pitched noise pierced the area. Both men stared at Beckett who smiled, obviously pleased with the resulting sensation running through his feet. He wiggled his toes, spreading them as well.
"Specialist Dex, take them both---Now."
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Specialist Dex, Captain Robinson and Major Lorne sat in the conference room with Doctor Weir. The debriefing was painfully longer than quick.
Ronon wasn't much of a conversationalist. He didn't speculate either. Doctor Weir wasn't one to give in and pursued alternate avenues of questioning.
Zelenka had been left to watch Sheppard, and Major Lorne had stationed a guard at Beckett's door and the infirmary. The business of homegrown Earthen Wraith worshippers possibly running lose on Atlantis still needed addressing.
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Rodney lay still in his infirmary bed enjoying the warmth and comfort of blankets and a mattress. Even the pillow felt beautiful. He drifted in a haze, partially awake but somewhat asleep. Pain medication kept him almost comfortable but discomfort lingered just enough to keep him from rest.
His aches warranted complaints, his exhaustion kept him silent.
McKay lay quietly with his eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the infirmary as it balanced between late night and early morning.
As he lay there, listening to assorted whispered voices, the infirmary door slid open. A nurse strode in carrying a small tray of snacks. Rodney caught sight of a young marine stationed at the entrance. The guard called to someone just out of Rodney's sight down the hall.
Rodney ignored them, following the tray of snacks feeling slightly disappointed by his lack of appetite.
His attention snapped back to the door when the soldier greeted the other. "Hey McGilly, how's it going?"
The doors slid shut.
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The debriefing mercifully ended. Tempers were shorter, frustration higher and eyes burned with fatigue.
Dr. Weir was dissatisfied with Ronon's one word answers and monosyllabic grunts.
Major Lorne was thinking of the next of kin his CO would have to write. He did not know the Marines that had been lost on this mission terribly well, with the exception of Wells. Wells had been a friend. McGilly and Jones were new to Atlantis. Lorne had done their orientation, placed them on teams and let the team leaders deal with 'breaking in' the new recruits.
With one team lost, he and Colonel Sheppard would have to re-think their policy.
Raw recruits should not have been doubled up on an off world team.
It was late by Earth standards when the truncated debriefing broke up. Atlantis ran on a '24 hour' cycle. Though the night crews were routinely quieter than the day, the nights on Atlantis remained just as busy. However, there was something about working nights that just seemed to exude a hushed silence.
That silence was suddenly broken by McKay's voice over radios. "Sheppard! Get someone to Carson! He's after Carson!"
"Rodney?" Sheppard's voice sounded tired over the radio. In the background, they could hear Radek muttering something in Czech and tapping on his laptop. "Rodney?" The colonel called again.
"He's here on Atlantis, McGilly or Jones or whoever! It doesn't matter! Get someone to, Carson!"
Major Lorne and Ronon Dex stared at one another for just a moment. Lorne tapped his radio and started issuing orders, mobilizing his men as he and Ronon sprinted for the stairs.
Ronon hurtled over the banister and took the stairs three at a time jumping down the last grouping. Lorne followed a few steps behind giving orders to restrain McGilly or Jones if found.
The Dex and Lorne bolted through sliding doors of the control room and sprinted toward Beckett's quarters.
The rare soul they met in the corridors flattened themselves to the hallway walls and watched the pair sprint pass.
After numerous turns, one too many stairwells and countless corridors, they finally turned into the hallway that held Carson's room.
No guard stood at the door.
Ronon unholstered his gun.
The two men approached Beckett's quarters and found McKay and Sheppard closing in from the opposite direction. Neither man looked steady on their feet. Zelenka trailed a step behind the duo tapping furiously on his tablet.
A security detailed trotted behind them, weapons ready, confident they could handle anything thrown at them. The thought that someone might have injured one of 'them', a fellow soldier, was irritating. The idea that someone might have hurt the Doc was just plain wrong.
A small splash of blood marred the door frame.
"Colonel?" Major Lorne called. The tension and unease was easily discernable.
Sheppard kept a steadying hand on McKay's upper arm and looked to Dex and Major Lorne.
"Why isn't there someone on the Doc's door?" Sheppard ground out.
Ronon raised his gun. Lorne unsnapped the safety strap on his holster and eased his .9 mm free.
"There was a guard," Dex answered.
Zelenka shuffled around the group and began working on Beckett's door controls. Rodney peered over his shoulder, swaying slightly and offering unsolicited 'assistance'.
"Sirs, please step back from the door." Lorne ordered.
"It was Jones," McKay stated, ignoring the major's request. "Jones is after Carson and me." He directed a delayed but angry glare at Lorne, "Why isn't anyone watching, Carson?"
"There was," Lorne returned tersely. The major gazed pointedly to the blood stain.
"Oh," McKay nodded. He turned his attention back to 'helping' Radek.
Zelenka merely nodded repeatedly and tapped away on his computer, doing his best to ignore the unsolicited advice.
"Open the damn door," Ronon snarled.
"Working on it," Zelenka muttered.
"Work faster," Ronon ordered quietly.
"Almost got it," Radek responded.
Sheppard stood flush to the wall, his .9mm primed and ready and merely nodded. His black eye appeared ghastly in the hall light.
"Ahh, here it is. Ready?" Zelenka asked quietly. People nodded and Sheppard whispered a "Go." Zelenka tapped the screen.
The door slid open.
The small group burst into the unlit quarters.
An unconscious and bloodied soldier lay just on the inside of the entrance.
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Beckett clothed in baggy green scrubs and bandaged eyes, shuffled hesitantly across his darkened quarters. He kept his hands out, oblivious to man in the shadows holding the knife.
Carson continued to shamble in the direction of his would be assailant, insensible to the sudden influx of people and weapons.
Jones spun around, surprised at the sudden intrusion. Light from the hallway illuminated his dark corner. He gripped a black handled knife. The spine of the blade lay parallel to his lateral forearm. Light from the corridor glinted off the metal. His hold on the knife was relaxed and professional. There was a confidence in the stance that Ronon, Sheppard and Lorne appreciated and respected.
This man knew how to use a blade.
Beckett continued his careful stutter steps, scuffing his bare feet across his floor, feeling his way across the room.
"Jones!" Sheppard snarled.
"Drop it, McGilly," Lorne ordered.
The marine ducked and skirted to the side around the CMO, as Ronon snapped his blaster up, aiming to fire. Jones snaked an arm up around Beckett's neck, spinning the doctor and snugging the Scot's head close to his own.
Beckett gasped and stumbled into Jones. He froze when the cold razor tip of the blade nestled quietly against his jugular furrow.
He gasped and rasped an inarticulate sound of surprise.
"That's Jones," McKay stated.
"It's McGilly," Lorne hissed.
"He's a dead man," Ronon clarified. The runner kept his arm straight, his aim unwavering and his intentions clear.
Beckett remained rooted, standing deathly still, his hands grasping tightly to the forearm that pressed against this trachea.
"You know you're not getting out of here alive," Sheppard intoned casually. He really disliked dramatics.
"I'll kill'im," Jones/McGilly's voice spoke of stark promise.
"What's in this for you, Corporal?" Sheppard asked. He skirted to the side trying to split the marine's attention.
"Private," Both Lorne and McGilly corrected.
"Dead man," Ronon clarified.
"Who cares?" Rodney pointed out.
"Colonel, get back with the others," Jones answered. The young marine sunk the tip of the blade into the taught skin of Beckett's neck. Dark crimson blood bubbled slowly onto the gleaming slightly curved blade.
Beckett hissed and tried to flinch away but the arm encircling his neck cinched tighter and pulled up higher, arching Beckett back and forcing him to the tip of bare toes.
"Ronon, stun them," The colonel ordered without a hint of concern. "Stun them both."
"You willing to risk Beckett's life? You willing to gamble I won't slice through his carotid?" Jones taunted.
Sheppard held up his hand stalling the ex-runner. He looked to Jones and cocked an eyebrow. "Beckett's people are pretty good. He'll live." The colonel's confidence was unwavering and his tone carefree.
"You'll never know if there are more of us." Jones inched back a step, angling for the balcony door.
Rodney flopped his hands with frustration. "Stunning you…not killing you. They'll get the information later." McKay turned to look at Dex and added, "You know Carson isn't going to be happy about you stunning him twice."
"Sheppard's ordered it both times," Ronon clarified. The runner let his gaze slide to McKay with a knowing smirk on his features. As he looked at the astrophysicist, Ronon simply squeezed the trigger.
The familiar red bolt of energy shot from the gun and slammed squarely into Beckett's chest. The dispersion of energy was enough to encompass both men.
They buckled to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Beckett's head clipped the corner of his desk with a solid thunk.
McKay cringed in sympathy.
The knife clattered harmlessly beside the collapsed duo.
"That's McGilly." McKay turned the question into statement.
Lorne merely nodded. The major kicked the blade away from the downed men.
"He from Iowa?" Ronon asked. It would go a long way to explain his proficiency with a blade. Dex wanted to visit this land of mythical beasts and brutal weather. It sounded like a place full of worthy challenges.
Lorne merely shrugged. "Some place like that…Iowa or Ohio or Idaho or something."
Sheppard sighed and sunk down in Beckett's small sofa. He tapped his radio with a tired hand and requested a medical team.
The colonel watched as Rodney limped toward Beckett and carefully squatted down, favoring his own myriad of injuries. He checked for Carson's pulse even though the Doc's chest rose and fell with the smooth effortless motion of a person in sleep or stunned.
"Eeewwww," McKay exclaimed and pulled his hand back sharply from Beckett's neck and slid to a seated position.
Sheppard sat up slightly concerned.
"He's drooling," McKay stated with a hint of disgust.
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Three hours later, Doctor Biro was pulling a sheet up over McGilly's autopsied form and walked from the room.
"Cyanide tablet," she stated to the waiting crowd. Doctor Weir remained motionless. Sheppard leaned against the wall tiredly and swore. Ronon grunted in disgust.
Suicide was a coward's way out.
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14 hours later
"Ohh, Iowa," Beckett breathed softly. "Home of the Corn Yeti." His head thrummed from the mild concussion he received from clunking his head against his own desk. His little bout of vomiting earned him an IV. If it didn't hurt so much he'd blame the colonel with more vigor about ordering him stunned twice. Twice.
The return of his hearing was a mixed blessing.
"You've heard of the Corn Yeti?" Sheppard asked slightly amazed.
"You've been to Iowa?" McKay interrupted incredulously. Rodney lay on his own bed, injured leg propped on pillows with towel covered ice packs surrounding his knee.
"Aye," Beckett answered nodding an affirmative to both questions. "We got lost on our way to the Corn Palace, and found ourselves in Iowa." The doctor closed his eyes and melted a little more into his pillow.
"I'd say," Rodney retorted with a hint of disgust. "Who was reading the map? You?" McKay's tone folded indignation and knowing sarcasm into the question.
He knew the answer.
Beckett's body language simply confirmed the accuracy of his question.
Teyla rolled onto her side and saw the building argument.
How would one mistakenly trip into such a dark and dire land unknowingly? Of course, these people had stumbled across a hive, killed its keeper, a queen no less and woke the Wraith.
"What was it like? This Iowa?" Teyla asked, more than slightly intrigued with this mystical land of demon creatures and hellacious weather. Iowa sounded frightful, a land that needed to be respected and feared.
"Ach, I don't know. It was at night, we were lost, and unfortunately almost out of petrol." Beckett shook his head at the memory. "We were forced to stop at a roadside petrol station for a refill."
"Wait, wait, wait….the Corn Palace?" McKay re-iterated with disbelief.
"Aye, we were on our way to Wall Drug, but decided to detour to the Corn Palace," Beckett stated matter-of-fact.
"Who were you traveling with?" Rodney pushed himself further up on his infirmary bed to stare incredulously at Beckett. You think you know someone. He winced at sudden resistance from fatigued and bruised muscles. "Tacky tourists are us?"
Beckett covered a yawned, dragging the IV line with the movement of his hand. He settled heavily on his side facing the colonel and Rodney. With half his face obscured by the pillow he sighed with a hint of longing, for times long passed. "Just some scientists from Cheyenne Mountain."
"I didn't go," Rodney pointed out with a touch of maudlin despondency. His tone caught Sheppard's ear. The colonel cast a sidelong look at the astrophysicist.
"Not because you weren't asked," Carson stated. He raised a hand to rub at his eyes.
"Don't," McKay ordered.
Beckett dropped his hand.
"Yeah well, see you two later. Mess will be closing soon. Ronon and I could use some real food." Sheppard patted his belly and smiled. "Come'n big guy," He turned on his heels and skirted around Dex, heading for the door.
Ronon grunted a general good-bye and followed a few steps behind the colonel. He furrowed his brow, deep in thought. As they approached the infirmary doors, he finally spoke up, directing his question to Sheppard. "Does this Corn Yeti live in the Corn Palace?"
Teyla raised her eyebrow and hoped to hear an answer, but the infirmary doors swished open and then shut cutting off the moving conversation.
She settled onto her side and contented herself with keeping an eye on Beckett and McKay in the next bays over. The Athosian smiled she waited for the inevitable biting conversation start. Her eyes drifted closed.
McKay leaned back against his pillow, enjoying the slight incline of his bed, however a troubled expression marred his features. He looked over at Beckett with a hint of disgust. "Iowa? You went to Iowa?"
Carson sighed with tired impatience. "Oh, good God man, it wasn't intentional." Beckett rubbed irritably at his chest, dragging the IV and line up under his blanket. "We were lost."
"I'd say." McKay rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He absently followed the lines of the beams, the familiar ancient designs and wondered what places he would insist bringing Teyla and Ronon should they ever return to Earth?...They'd obviously go to Canada.
He listened as Beckett's breathing evened out and then roughened into slight snores. He turned his head slightly and stared Carson. He'd drag Beckett out with them too. Maybe stop by some tacky sites, just make the Scotsman feel at home.
The end.