1000

"Nineteen people went to P4X-124." Doctor Lam glanced up from her records to look around the conference table, packed with two generals, Walter, and two different SG teams. "Fifteen of those people are seriously ill or dead. Four," she said to SG-13, "are just fine. We need to figure out what you four did differently. As soon as possible. Sergeant Harriman has been looking at the reports, but this is quicker."

Dixon shrugged. "We took off for the planet after the SGC received intel from the Free Jaffa about a mineral that could be used as a possible weapon. We scouted the place, found the stuff, and brought back some samples. The nerds said it was better than a weapon, which I don't think is possible, but I don't suppose that matters."

Walter glanced up from the haphazard pile of open folders in front of him. "You negotiated with the locals, sir."

"Yeah, a lot of that."

"Let me guess – in the village," the doctor said.

"That only confirms what we already know, Doc." Jack sighed in frustration. "It's something in the village."

Ignoring him, she pressed, "Tell me everything you did while you were there. Everything."

Dixon frowned. "Balinsky. Go."

"Yes, sir," the archaeologist piped up. "Well, there was a fascinating welcoming ceremony involving prayers from what the called both the old and new religions, one in what could be considered a dialect of Ancient. They-"

To everyone's surprise, it was Daniel Jackson who cut him off first. "The abridged version. Please."

"Right. Uh, we met someone in the square who got the elders, there was a ceremony in the square, they offered us lodging. Much nicer than sleeping on the dirt, by the way."

"Was there anything special about these accommodations?" Lam asked. "The blankets, the buildings? Gifts?"

Colonel Dixon shook his head. "Wood and scratchy wool. The standard. Feather mattresses. And they didn't give us anything – no oils or perfumes or any of that crap."

"Okay. What about the food? Everything you ate and drank."

Brow furrowed, he glanced at Airman Wells for a good long moment before returning his gaze to the doctor. "You said all four of us came back clean? You're sure?"

"The organism is still in your blood," she explained. "But it's inactive, like in the villagers."

"Then it's not the food," Dixon said. "Or the water."

Jack leaned forward, interested. "How can you be sure?"

"Because Wells doesn't eat or drink anything the Air Force doesn't send with him." With a shake of his head, he added, "Pansy."

"I learned my lesson in the two weeks I spent in the infirmary after M3C-978, sirs," the young man said. "I've never thrown up so much in my life."

"Well, Airman, your weak stomach has been very informative," Lam assured him. "So, not the food, not the water. Keep thinking; there's something else."

The four men glanced at each other. "Uh, Balinsky and I toured the place," Bosworth offered. "Including a temple that was kind of funky. But it was only the two of us."

She shook her head. "It's got to be all four of you."

"Doctor Lam?" One of the nurses stood in the doorway, a large floppy envelope at her side. "I'm sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but I have Captain Strong's CT results. I... thought you should see them right away."

Immediately concerned, the older woman took the envelope and quickly withdrew the film, holding it up to the fluorescent lights above the table. After a long moment, she said, "Take them again."

"We... did, ma'am," the nurse answered uncertainly. "Twice. We had maintenance come check the scanner, too."

Though her arm fell away from the light, Lam still stared at the image in her hands, silent. It was Landry who prompted, "Is he all right?"

Her eyes flicked up abruptly, cold as ice. "He's probably concussed. But he's definitely irradiated."