Chapter 5 - A Day in the Life of a Human Guinea Pig
Special Cordoned-off area
Infirmary
Level 21
SGC
Sheppard got comfortable on the bed they had set up for him after changing into a pair of soft light blue scrubs and socks. There were two medics setting up a number of monitors and IV poles around him, getting his immediate surroundings equipped for study and observation.
Another nurse was also there, setting up a table with test tubes, syringes, catheters, and the like - all the nasty stuff he would need in a day or two as his condition inevitably worsened.
Orlin had already warned him that he would be here for a few days, going through the artificially infected virus in all its stages until it came as close as it could get to killing him. His body would continue to produce the cure via his own immune system as he passed through its various mutant stages while teams of medics and scientists headed by Lam collected the samples for mass production of the several stages of cures.
Orlin would split his focus between helping with harvesting the cure and completing the device Carter was building to neutralise the powers of the Priors.
All Sheppard knew was that it was most definitely not going to be a fun few days.
He was kind of glad that Mitchell was not around to witness him going through the infection. He had almost felt the fury rolling off the man's entire being when the extent of Orlin's plan had come to light.
Sheppard hadn't even bothered to feel shocked, outraged, or even wronged. For him, this new life, this gift, this second chance he had never felt he even deserved, was worth everything Orlin wanted to extract from him as payment.
As he had kept listening to the Alteran, Sheppard had realised that his plan was not about blackmailing him for anything. In fact, Orlin had lost way more than Sheppard. His life as he knew had been truly over the moment he made the choice to return to this plane.
Orlin was genuine in his effort to assist, Sheppard knew that much. He had destroyed his own life in the process of offering that assistance. The least Sheppard could do was suck it up and fight through a bad case of fever so his body could produce a cure for a sickness that was going to be fatal to everyone else.
As if conjured by his thoughts, Orlin appeared next to his bed just as Sheppard grabbed his laptop, intending to start on some reading while he lounged on the bed.
"Drink this," he smiled, holding out a beaker full of liquid that looked like it was sentient.
Sheppard had never seen a bubbling and fizzing liquid with those vibrant colours in his entire life. It looked like something one would harvest out of a rain cloud that had floated over a nuclear explosion.
"What is it?" Sheppard asked, trying to discreetly scoot away from the frightening contents of the beaker.
"It's something to strengthen your immune system, Colonel. We can't introduce anything to your blood except saline to keep you hydrated. No food or vitamins or antibiotics of any kind," Lam said, walking in to join Orlin at his bedside. "Orlin assures me that this concoction will keep your energy levels up for a while at least."
"Your body will need all the strength it can retain because we will be extracting a lot of samples from you as the sickness progresses," Orlin added, oblivious to the effect his sincere comments had on Sheppard.
Sheppard swallowed. "I don't know, buddy. It looks radioactive to me."
"It kinda does, doesn't it?" Lam agreed, squinting at the aurora borealis trapped inside the glass container. "It doesn't have anything toxic in it though. He just made it in our lab."
"You sure nothing exploded while he was brewing it?"
"Nobody even sneezed, Colonel," Lam chuckled.
"It will help you relax," Orlin added.
"If you say so," Sheppard muttered, unable to keep his doubt from his tone.
"It will not harm you," Orlin insisted. "Extracting too many samples without it, however, will."
With that, Orlin stuck the thing under his nose, causing him to break into a coughing fit as he inhaled its potent scent unintentionally. Lam thumped him on the back while Orlin waited patiently, not willing to give up on his mission to pour his concoction down Sheppard's throat.
Since it was obvious that he wouldn't get to avoid drinking the damn thing, Sheppard took it from Orlin's hand, lifted it in the air in a salute, and gulped down everything in one long swallow.
At least, it went down smoothly without a fuss, which was the only marginally good thing about it.
The moment the contents reached his stomach, everything inside him ignited as if he had just gulped down napalm. Orlin caught the beaker before he dropped it as his body curved into a ball, trying to contain the agony inside him.
Sheppard squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.
"The pain shall pass soon, breathe through it."
What Sheppard really wanted to do was punch something, preferably Orlin. Since that wouldn't help anyone, he did his best to breathe through it as he was told, hoping and praying his insides weren't busily liquifying.
After a long moment, he actually began to feel a lot better as the intense burn subsided. He slowly uncurled himself, stretching a little on his side, keeping his breathing deep and even. As the seconds passed, he realised he was starting to feel strangely light and unconcerned.
A super-duper drug, something in his mind whispered before running away with a giggle.
"Oh great," he grumped. Orlin had conveniently forgotten to mention that part about his witchy brew.
"We will begin now," Orlin said, nodding to Lam who was already armed with a syringe filled with a clear solution.
Sheppard hardly felt the needle piercing the skin on his bicep. The solution containing the virus entered his bloodstream with only a slight burn at the injection site. The drug in his system kept him remarkably calm about the whole thing, reassuring him that everything was going according to plan and he didn't have to worry about a thing.
Control Room
Level 27
SGC
Hank Landry entered the darkened Control Room, wondering what kind of trouble was waiting for him now. Having a fatal plague running rampant in the state of Colorado was more than enough crisis to last him a week, and it would only get a hundred times worse if the virus managed to cross states, or god forbid, the country itself.
When he got to the viewing area, the Gate Iris was closed, although the chevrons were lit, letting him know that there was an interplanetary call waiting for him.
"Chief?"
"It's Teal'c, sir," Harriman said. "I've established a video link with him on Dakara."
Landry went to sit in front of the monitor Harriman indicated. Teal'c sombre face came into view as the chief activated the call that was on hold.
"General Landry. Chief Harriman has informed me of the situation. May I be of any assistance?" Teal'c asked.
"Not at the moment," Landry sighed. "We've restricted gate travel in and out of the base for the time being." They did not want to spread the deadly plague to other worlds.
"Understood."
"How'd it go with the council? Have they made a decision?" Landry was referring to Gerak's rather alarming proposal to accept the new religion the Priors were spreading.
"They have not," Teal'c said, but there was a warning in his tone as he shared the rest of his news. "But I have been told that they are leaning towards accepting Gerak's proposal despite our warnings."
"Doesn't sound good," Landry said. As if they needed the warrior sect of the galaxy falling in line with the murderous fanatics with too much power!
"Bra'tac and I no longer believe this battle can be won through diplomacy alone," Teal'c went on. "The council must know of our resolve by other means."
"Such as?"
"We will travel to Chulak to meet with other Jaffa leaders who feel as we do," Teal'c said, revealing his next course of action. "No matter what the council decides, we will resist any alliance with the Ori."
"So your fight for freedom may end up in an all-out civil war–"
Teal'c sighed, averting his gaze for a moment. "Indeed."
Landry hummed. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he said, praying with all his heart. But he knew from experience that the truth this time was going to extract a much bloodier price before it was accepted.
He gestured to Harriman to cut the transmission when Teal'c bowed in farewell. The Gate shut down when the call terminated. He left the Control Room to get back to his office. There was an entire crisis management team in Washington waiting for his updates and he needed to contact his field team so he could hopefully find some good news to share.
Gas Station
Colorado
Mitchell watched the hazmat team meticulously and methodically testing and disinfecting each and every inch of 'Gas & Bait,' where Lieutenant Fisher had stopped by to fill in his tank before driving off to Peterson.
There were three isolation tents up, already occupied by a few people they had tracked down who showed various degrees of symptoms.
Walking around in full hazmat gear in the heat was a pain in the ass. But Mitchell still remembered how worse it felt when he had been sick with this exact virus. So he figured sucking up a little discomfort was better than getting laid up on a gurney later, struggling to breathe and feeling like dying.
That particular line of thought inevitably led to Sheppard, whom he knew was probably going through the same exact agony back at the SGC.
He slapped the headset on to get a line to SGC, not really wanting to delve into that further.
"It's a self-serve station, sir," he reported when Landry's voice came through the line. "According to receipts, twenty-two people have used the pump that Fisher used. We're tracking down the folks that used credit cards, but six used cash."
"We've called in the National Guard," Landry said. "I'm staying in touch with the Governor, but it looks like we may need to close down the state, Colonel."
It was about what Mitchell had expected. But it still sent a chill down his spine when he heard the words. "Yes, sir," he said quietly. "It's pretty bad."
"Is there anyone over there infected?"
"The attendant's been put into quarantine, and it looks like he's got it."
"That's not the news I wanted to hear."
Mitchell looked over to see two hazmat personnel wheeling out a gurney, with a plastic tent completely encasing the gas station attendant inside. He sighed. It was not what he wanted to report either. But it seemed that the plague had already had a considerable head start over them.
"I know, sir," he murmured, hoping that whatever Sheppard was doing would find an answer before people started succumbing to the inevitable.
Infirmary
SGC
Level 21
Sheppard started showing symptoms of the initial stage of the infection within half an hour of the virus entering his system.
It started with an unusual headache that bloomed at the base of his skull at the back, one that sent spikes of pain all over his skull and the spine whenever he moved or even breathed. His temperature started to climb higher around about the same time, and he dragged the blanket higher to wrap around himself, trying to get rid of the chills that rapidly followed.
An alarm started to beep when it detected the change, summoning Lam to his bedside.
It took him a moment to figure out what was wrong with what he was seeing.
"Hey, doc, why aren't you in a suit?" he blinked, trying to make sure he wasn't seeing, or not seeing, things. "I thought I've got the plague."
"Oh you most certainly do, Colonel," Lam replied distractedly.
"You are just about the only person who would not be contagious, John," Orlin said, entering the area. "It is not required to wear that highly uncomfortable suit when visiting you."
Judging by the way the kid's face twisted, it was evident that he was not a fan of the hazmat gear he probably had to put on when entering the labs.
"Temperature 100.5 climbing, blood pressure at 130/80," she read the stats off the monitors and turned to Orlin. "Seems like we're looking at stage one, aren't we?"
"Most certainly."
Sheppard stuck his head out of the blanket and narrowed his eyes at the duo. "Out of curiosity, how many stages are there?"
"According to the blood work and the stats of the other patients in the ward, I'd say about three so far," Lam replied, wincing apologetically.
"So far?"
"The virus is mutating rapidly to combat any natural resistance present in the immune system of the people here," Orlin elaborated. "We may be looking at many more stages than that."
"Awesome." Sheppard sighed, wondering exactly how worse it would get.
He already felt like having the nastiest case of flu he had in a long time. He idly wondered if this was what Cam went through when he caught the same Prior bug when he had been in P8X-412.
"Your system shall start battling the infection soon," Orlin predicted, placing the back of his palm on Sheppard's forehead, checking his temperature the old-fashioned way. "When you start feeling better, we shall start extracting the cure."
Sheppard didn't want to really think about that. So he turned to his side and dragged the blanket over his head, trying to warm up a little and drift into sleep.
It didn't work.
He started to shiver in earnest as his fever spiked. The headache steadily worsened and his BP kept climbing as stage one of the virus did its best to take him down. After about an hour of that misery, the white-hot currents in his brain started to abate as his fever finally broke.
The medics surrounded him like a bunch of vultures when he was a barely awake, sweat-soaked mess. He stared dully as they started to draw several vials full of blood from the vein in the crook of his elbow before the small reprieve dissolved into another bout of fever.
Bailey's Diner
Colorado
Third-Day of the Plague
The hazmat crew swarmed through a café, critically checking and disinfecting everything that stood in their view and within access. Outside the window, the head of the team had drawn the short straw to be interviewed by reporters who threw all kinds of questions at him. Camera crews had their focus split between capturing his report and trying to film the inside of the restaurant through the window.
"Sir, we are now at the restaurant where Fisher had his lunch," Mitchell reported through the comms headset inside his helmet. "The waitress who served him, the cook, the manager, they're all testing positive. We have fourteen customers unaccounted for. Bulletins are being issued on local AND national radio and television."
"The media's having a field day." Landry sounded irritated over the line.
"Have you closed the state borders, sir?"
"Too late for that, Colonel," Landry informed him. "We already have reported cases in Utah, Kansas, and New Mexico."
"Damn, that was fast."
"Faster than we can move…" Landry said. "Airports, bus stations, and train stations are all secure at this point, but more than one person seems to have gotten out. Track them down, Colonel."
"Will do, sir," Mitchell said before terminating the call.
Infirmary
Level 21
SGC
Landry replaced the receiver of his phone and left the office, intending to pay a visit to the infirmary where a highly unorthodox method was being used to produce a cure to the deadly plague.
He bumped into his harried-looking daughter as he entered the area.
"How are we doing, Carolyn?"
"We have harvested samples from the Colonel for two stages, sir," she reported softly as he took her appearance in. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked pale, positively exhausted as if she hadn't left the infirmary for hours. "The lab is already extracting the antiviral from the blood as we speak. We should have the first batch of vaccination for the mild cases within a few hours–"
"Will it cure our people for good or is there a chance they could catch this again once we cure them?" Landry asked, recalling the debacle at planet 412.
"Not this time, sir," Carolyn summoned up a tired, but triumphant smile. "We are basically injecting active anti-viral strains to the infected patients, and the new RNA we introduce merges with their own immune system to combat the virus," she explained. "Once they are cured, they retain the immunity, which prevents them from getting re-infected,"
"That's some good news, at least," Landry smiled back, relieved. "How's the Colonel?"
Despite Orlin's reasoning and assurances, or Sheppard's explicit consent to becoming a veritable guinea pig, it still bothered him a lot that this experimentation was happening in his base.
He also didn't even want to think about how to face Jack if something permanently bad were to happen to the man. As it was, Landry was still being thoroughly questioned by the President's team about the cure and procedures being implemented every time he called Washington for an update.
"As well as can be expected," Carolyn said, glancing to her left where the infirmary was sectioned off for Sheppard. "The virus is already mutating rapidly and it's putting an immense strain on his system, but Orlin's intervention is helping him a lot–"
"Thank you, Carolyn," he said, knowing there was nothing he could do but to keep hoping that it all went according to the way the meddling Alteran advertised, "Keep me posted."
"Yes, sir."
There was a breaking news segment playing on the screen when he got back to the Control Room.
"Panicked citizens are demanding answers from authorities who have been clearly overwhelmed by the speed and scope of the virus," the female reporter announced somberly. "Despite their best efforts, the contagion continues to spread at an alarming rate." She declared before flashing a bright smile. "Of course, keep it right here, we'll have the latest breaking news on the hour, every hour. We'll see you then."