2235
The generals came from two different directions, but arrived at the door to the medical lab only seconds apart. "Thanks for inviting me to the party," Jack said, holding open the door.
"You deserve to know." Landry didn't even pause to look at him – there was little time to waste. "What have you found?"
Doctor Lam stood in front of a stainless steel counter with a microscope and four small petri dishes. "Not what I expected to. Doctor Jackson and SG-8 did a fantastic job with these samples; they're from four very different people. The first is a woman who's never been near SG-16's work site, and for the most part, her blood looks no different from yours or mine. No organism, no antibodies. The next three have all been exposed at some point, to varying degrees: one was exposed for a short time, long ago; one has been to the site off and on for years; one just took her first trip there two weeks ago with SG-13. Here's the kicker – all three of them have at least a small amount of the organism in their blood, and not one shows any sign of antibodies for it. They are not immune."
Jack and Hank exchanged a look. "They're also not sick," the two-star said.
"Right. Because the stuff that's in their blood is inactive somehow."
"Inactive," Landry parroted.
"It's literally just sitting there," she explained. "The platelet levels on these samples are nowhere near low enough for concern, and there's no evidence of ruptured RBCs. I even went so far as to inject one of them with extra platelets from my own blood, and nothing happened. But when I added a bit of Sergeant Siler's infected blood to it, the count plummeted."
As far as Jack could tell, that was the first good news they'd had. At least, it seemed good. "So... how do we deactivate them?"
She cringed. "I'll let you know when I figure that out. None of the antibiotics, antivirals, or antiparasitics we have have made any difference at all."
"Yeah, but..." The two-star scrubbed at the back of his neck, trying to put the idea into words. "If it's not them, then it's something around them, then, right? It has to be."
"Environmental," she answered with a nod. "I would agree."
"Then why don't we take them there? If we know that's where the answer is."
"I thought about that," she sighed. "But all I'm certain that would accomplish is removing a dozen very, very ill people from appropriate medical care. And potentially exposing them to something worse. The water the villagers drink isn't treated or sterile, for example; giving it to a group of patients with compromised immune systems is just plain irresponsible. And more, nothing SG-8 has sent have had any effect on the blood sample I've taken thus far. What are we supposed to do there – set up a tent and force-feed them a smorgasbord and hope for the best?"
Nodding, he relented, "I guess I just-"
A nurse burst through the door of the lab. The panic on her face and streak of blood on her uniform nearly stopped Jack's heart. "Doctor, we need you. Now."
Lam flew out the door, the two generals on her heels.
Not Carter. Not Carter. Not Carter.
But the nurse flew past his lover's bed to Major Rathbone's. The bed was surrounded by medical personnel – a wall of white blocking whatever had happened from his view. The screaming monitors, however, made it pretty clear. "Status," she barked.
"The central line blew out," someone reported. "It couldn't take the added pressure we were putting through it."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" Jack couldn't see the poor girl who said it, but he knew immediately that she'd had her hand on the needle.
"Dammit. He's bleeding internally. Surgery, stat." As Doctor Fraiser had done so many times before, Lam put one foot on the leg of the cot and swung herself briskly up to stay with her patient, hands attempting to heal the impossible. It took mere seconds for Rathbone and company to disappear. Seconds later, someone shut off the shriek of the monitors.
And then it was silent.
They were all headed down the path Rathbone had just taken, and Jack knew he wasn't the only one thinking it. Ten sets of eyes burned into his face as he stood next to Hank.
He should say something brave, he knew. He was their CO, their compass, their strength.
He also knew he'd never manage it. Not with Carter laying there with them.
Avoiding their eyes – especially hers – he strode out of the infirmary and let the door slam behind him.