Okay... Really long wait. But really long chapter. I'll try to be better, (the next one should be short...ish), but the school year started, so my job restarted, and we're short-staffed so I can't go onto my regular, lighter schedule until we hire more people. Oh well. Rest assured, I intend to keep plogging away, following the plot.
I feel like I've barely scratched the surface of what I've got planned. O.O
P.S. For the record, I had way to much fun geeking out in this chapter. Though I fudged a bunch, (no PhD here), I tried to mix it with a healthy dose of real science... ;)
Happy reading!
Disclaimer: I still don't own Stargate Atlantis, Steve, and/or any other SGA character. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and is strictly not-for-profit. The only things I own are: Dr. Mira Sheckle, The Glove, the plot, and other OC/plot-related bits.
Chapter Eleven: Testing the Waters - Part Four
3 years, 48 weeks earlier
"There now. 'At's the last one." Dr. Beckett stepped back to admire his handiwork. "How do ye feel? Are they comfortable enough?"
Seated on the bed before him, Steve blinked and slid his slitted eyes towards Carson. "As comfortable as can be expected." He glanced away, staring forward once more. "Their application is adequate."
"Oh," a bit crestfallen, Beckett gave a little shrug, "Well, tha's all right then." With a quick gesture, he beckoned his technicians over, "Let's get started, shall we?"
The wraith breathed a low, satisfied hiss. "Yesss…"
Like a well-oiled machine, Atlantis's infirmary staff swarmed around Steve's cot, rolling into place and setting up the scanners and displays that would be used in today's experiment. Lieutenant Geerman and the six marines on guard duty stepped back to make room for the increased activity, positioning themselves behind the bed and at strategic points along the perimeter outlined by the equipment. Though decked out in full military regalia, (TAC vests, extra guns, ammo, etc…), they held their stunners in a relaxed, yet vigilant, manner. It'd become apparent immediately upon the prisoner's arrival that his escort's weapons were unlikely to be used today.
The wraith was being extremely cooperative, remaining virtually motionless throughout the extensive preparations. An island of tranquility in a sea of nervous excitement, he'd held perfectly still while techs took samples and helped Carson affix and wire a complex array of electrodes to his forehead. He'd obeyed all instructions to 'turn this way' or 'lift that arm' to the letter, all while carefully avoiding making sudden movements, and every aspect of his demeanor, from relaxed posture to softly whispered replies, suggested he was trying to put his attendants at ease. He was even sitting hunched forward so shorter personnel didn't have to stretch to reach him.
Dr. Beckett was impressed by Steve's patience. He'd been enduring the medical staff's warily fussy ministrations for half an hour, and the only remotely hostile thing he'd done had been to direct a disgusted snarl and death glare at a technician who'd suggested that cutting his hair would make attaching electrodes easier.
Needless to say, that recommendation was soundly rejected. An improvised headband had taken the place of localized spot shaving.
"Let's bring tha' one over 'ere…" Accepting a cable from Dr. Kaile, who'd just finished wiring three electrodes on the back of Steve's head to it, Carson deftly looped the cord behind the wraith and plugged it's triple leads into his recently-modified Electroencephalograph. "There," he smiled and clapped his hands, turning to survey the rest of his crew, "Ah'm done 'ere. How's everyone else?"
Getting a chorus of 'I'm done's and a few thumbs up in response, Dr. Beckett rubbed his hands together in anticipation, "Excellent. Let's start this monster up."
He flicked the Electroencephalograph's switch.
Behind him on the cot, Steve jerked his head up, letting out a sharp chuff of surprise. His olive eyes screwed shut as the array of machines hummed to life.
Noting with concern that his charge's fingers were fisting in the sheets, Carson signaled the technicians to stop the boot-up process. "Is everythin' all right? Did ah hurt ye?" The machines shouldn't have. They were all supposedly safe. Completely non-invasive…
Breathing in shallow snorts, the wraith blinked his eyes open. "I am fine," he huffed. "Your devices simply startled me. They were unexpectedly…" pausing, he softly hissed, as if searching for the right word. "Loud…"
"Loud?" Carson glanced at the humming equipment. It was audible, yes. But loud? "Is yer hearing really tha' acute, then?"
Steve growled, obviously frustrated, and snapped, "Not loud! They are—" another growl, this one irritated. He started over. "Their energy is… Intense."
"Their energy?" Feeling like a parrot, Carson looked back at Steve, his eyebrows climbing in confusion. "Wha' energy? Ye mean like, the electrical kind?"
Ignoring the question, the wraith deliberately unclenched his fingers and leaned forward, resuming his original position. "Continue activating your devices."
Dr. Beckett ignored him back, thoughtfully surveying the collection of wires trailing from Steve's temples. The cables snaking behind his hips… The equipment was passive in nature, but relied heavily on fluctuations in electrical current. All those wires were live. Electricity was running all around the wraith, flowing down his long coat, racing over his shoulders and across his lean chest. If it'd been light, the dark form would've been practically glowing with it. If the wraith could sense that…
Turning, Steve looked at the Scotsman impatiently. Dislodged by the move, an electrode wire that'd shifted when he leaned forward, swung down, sliding across his ivory hair and gently brushing his cheek. Flinching, Steve snapped his face away with a chuff and quickly pushed the wire back. As his pale hand delicately dropped to the his side, Carson's eyes widened. The mysterious orifice on Steve's touched cheek had contracted, narrowing to a thin, barely visible slit. As he watched, it slowly widened, gradually returning to its usual size.
Grinning, Carson gave an astonished laugh, "Ye ARE sensing the electrical field!" A murmur of interest rippled through the infirmary. Every technician and nurse within earshot stopped what he or she was doing to listen.
"Can ye sense magnetic energy too?"
Steve's answer was a frosty, enigmatic stare.
Undeterred, Dr. Beckett laughed again, "Ah wager ye can! Those two energies are closely related." Eyeing the cables crisscrossing Steve's chest, he grasped one and carefully pulled it over the black coat's glittering shoulder. "Dr. Kaile, would ye kindly give me a hand wi' these?"
"Of course." The tow-headed woman abandoned her display and came over.
"Ah want to get 'em away from his face as much as possible. 'At's a good lass." Working together, the pair carefully rearranged the wires, piling them behind the wraith and drawing them back, hooking them over the pointed epaulets of his coat.
Resigned to the new delay, Steve held perfectly still, watching the activity through passively narrowed eyes. Just like he had for the last half hour…
A few minutes later, finally satisfied with the new arrangement, Kaile stepped back, and Carson ordered his team to finish booting up. The doctors watched their patient closely as displays flickered to life.
"Is tha' better?" Carson asked.
The wraith's lichen nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. "Perhaps." Olive irises slid sideways, fixing on Dr. Beckett. "Either way, I have adjusted."
Ungrateful li'le bugger. "Ah see." Carson shrugged. Steve appeared more comfortable, at least… "Okay. Let's get the calibrations out o' the way."
Keyboards clicked as the technicians quickly ran through scanner diagnostics and double-checked their baseline settings. Dr. Kaile returned to her display.
In the ensuing quiet, Carson attempted to make small talk. "So. Steve…" he was examining the Electroencephalograph, "How sensitive are those organs on yer cheeks?" A low hiss issued from the cot. He checked the machine's input. It appeared to be reading the electrodes properly, "Can ye detect the electromagnetic fields given off by—"
An impatient chuff interrupted him. "Your line of inquiry is irrelevant."
"Ah beg to differ. Yer senses are incredibly interestin' to us—"
"Understanding them is not required for this brain scan."
Carson heard the rustle of leather, "Perhaps not, but—"
"What does this device do?"
Straightening his lab coat, Carson shot the cot a disbelieving glance, then suppressed a sigh. Like switching a light switch, Steve's bored, dismissive tone had turned bright. Almost pleasant. He'd twisted to face Carson and was staring at the Electroencephalograph with open curiosity. The doctor inwardly grimaced. Apparently his electric field conversation was over… Oh well. Maybe next time.
"It detects brain waves."
The pale face tilted quizzically, as far as the electrodes let it. "How?"
"Well, it's an Electroencephalograph. Eeg for short." Stepping over a bundle of cords, Dr. Beckett crossed to the wraith's side and gestured at the electrodes decorating his head. "The electrodes detect minute changes in yer brain's electrical activity an' send 'em to the Eeg. The Eeg records the changes an' converts 'em into visual data." He tossed an arm out, sweeping it past the rest of the array, "It shares tha' data wi' the other machines, which take wha' they need an' in turn share their data with tha'."
Carson pointed to an inconspicuously blinking grey box. "Tha' compiles everythin'." He grinned proudly, "Takes all the different types o' data—"
"What other data?" Steve hissed softly, eyeing the various devices.
"Oh," momentarily derailed, Beckett glanced at the equipment, "Well…" he indicated a computer monitor that Zelenka had spliced into the Eeg cables, "'At one triangulates the location of electrical activity. Tha' one," he indicated a big, flat screen spliced into an ancient console, "measures blood flow in the brain. Very useful for locatin' tumors, tha'. Usually requires an extensive setup, but," Carson grinned, indicating the ancient console, "thanks to tha' beast, it's a lot more efficient now."
The wraith expelled a short chuff of air, eyeing the ancient device warily. "And what does 'that beast' do…?"
"Takes pictures o' the inside o' yer brain."
Olive irises darted, scanning the floor around 'the beast.' Steve's mouth twitched with a snort, "It is not connected to the Eeg device…"
"Ehh, no." Carson pursed his lips. "It's more sophisticated 'an tha'."
"Howww…?" the multi-toned voice trailed off as Steve tracked the pair of sparkling cables emerging from the ancient scanner's base.
Carson shrugged, "Honestly? Ah don' know how it works. It just does. An' frankly, it's been on this whole time." Steve's gaze snapped to his face accusingly. "Don' look at me like 'at. It's perfectly safe."
A disgruntled hiss. "As far as YOU know."
"Believe me. Ah know." All the studies on Earth, up until the time the expedition had left, had shown ancient medical equipment to have no side-effects whatsoever. "It uses these panels, see?" Patting a smooth, blue-tinted metal frame affixed to the foot of the cot, Dr. Beckett smiled proudly and pointed to the head of the bed, at a second frame. Four feet tall and five feet wide, the parallel panels stretched beyond the sides of cot, and were set with thin sheets of the ancients' trademark, transparent crystal. "Everythin' between these is bein' scanned," he explained, "but we targeted it to yer life sign, so only ye'll show up."
As if on cue, the ancient scanner's screen flickered to life and a 3D, semi-transparent image of a sitting humanoid popped into existence.
Steve's long hair slipped from his shoulders as he leaned forward, watching intently. Under his intense scrutiny, Dr. Kaile narrowed the machine's focus to the humanoid's head. Then she enlarged the image. The structure of the wraith's brain emerged, hovering in black space, exact to the minutest detail.
Translucent teeth flashed as Steve exhaled with pleasure, "Though inefficient to manipulate, this equipment's capabilities are fascinating." His oval pupils dilated as Dr. Kaile checked her settings, zeroing in on and switching between different parts of his brain. "Perhaps…" A low, absent hiss dissipated through the infirmary.
Snorting abruptly, Steve leaned back and narrowed his eyes. Silvery metal and black fabric elegantly entwined as his gloved and ungloved hands clasped delicately in his wire-free lap. The amber on his right wrist glimmered faintly.
Carson observed the odd body language with interest. Deciding the wraith had no intention of completing his comment, he cleared his throat. "Perhaps wha'?"
The olive eyes met Beckett's briefly, then darted back to the screen.
"I am not a medical scientist," murmured Steve. His lips twitched with a soft chuff, "I was thinking… Perhaps I should consider expanding my knowledge base."
Dr. Beckett opened his mouth in a surprised, 'oh,' at the admission. He stared at the screen in contemplative silence for a moment. Finally he nodded, "Well, ah'm glad ye find this inspirin'. Ah dare say, it'll make this enjoyable for ye."
Another absently murmured, "Perhaps…"
"Especially since ye want to study tha' feeding glove. Given the physiological aspects of nutrition, it'll likely 'ave a heavy medical component."
"If you say…"
"Ah don' say. Ah know."
Steve hissed in passive protest of the assumption.
Dr. Beckett sighed. Then he brightened, noticing that a number of lights on a certain blinking, grey box had turned green. "Oh, good. The calibration's done." Thanking Dr. Kaile and his team for their quick work, he scooped up a laser-pointer remote and activated the last screen. A huge four by three, flat monitor.
"'Ere ye go," Carson inwardly grinned, anticipating a new pleasurable response from the wraith. "Feast yer eyes on this. 'Ere's where the real science's at."
He was not disappointed. As soon as he pressed the button, switching to the compiler's input, Steve's eyes widened in amazement. His pupils dilated hugely as the image of his brain reappeared, this time lit up in flickering gradients of rainbow color.
"Welcome to Neurology one oh one," Carson announced.
With a flick of the remote, the image shrank in size, and windows spun off it, each showing a slowly rotating, 3D image of a different part of Steve's brain.
Dr. Beckett quickly zeroed in on one of the smaller structures, which, in a human, would've been the most primitive, (evolutionarily speaking), part of the brain. As he'd suspected, the pleasure center of the wraith's hypothalamus was glowing an intense orange. High activity rate. Well, that explained the dilated pupils…
"What is this?" Steve hissed.
Flicking the remote again, Carson highlighted the windows in turn, quickly noting the most obvious differences in the cerebral structures. "An extremely sensitive, highly accurate, real-time mappin' o' the electrical activity o' yer brain." Interesting… The wraith's temporal lobes were enlarged, compared to a human's. And there was a distinct nodule on the bottom rear of the thalamus. "Color indicates activity rate. Low wavelengths, oranges an' red, are high. High wavelengths, blues an' violet, are low."
A disgusted snort issued from the cot beside him.
"Ah know. It's completely backwards. Don' ask me why they did it tha' way."
"And the blacks?"
"No activit— Oh, this is fascinatin'!" Pausing on a rear view of the cerebral cortex that'd just jumped forward, Carson activated the remote's laser pointer and highlighted the bottom middle of the symmetrical image. "Ye've actually got a pair o' extra lobes squeezed in between the occipital lobes o' yer cerebral cortex!"
Steve chuffed softly, eyeing the doctor, "And what are they for?" His smug tone conveyed clearly that he knew the answer but wasn't sharing.
"Ah don' know yet," Carson shrugged, "But ah'm guessing it's somethin' to do wi' telepathic processin'. Let's find out, shall we?"
The wraith's pale, electrode-framed face turned, and he stared at Dr. Beckett for a long moment. Evaluating…
Ignoring the scrutiny, Carson switched the array's recorder on. "Ah'm goin' to give ye a few commands. Get some control readin's." He grinned cheekily, "Would'nae want to be accused o' not keepin' my scientific method sound."
Acknowledging the reference to their earlier conversation, Steve hissed and faced forward. "That is understandable…"
"Okay, ah want ye to listen closely." Banishing the cerebral cortex's window to a corner of the screen, Carson let the image of the entire brain dominate the monitor's center. He snapped his fingers and shuffled his feet, watching as ripples of orange and red blossomed in windows showing the temporal lobes. On cue, a series of sounds, made by various technicians, came from different parts of the infirmary.
"Placement o' acoustical processin' seems similar to humans," Dr. Beckett commented. Activity flared in the lower portion of the parietal lobes. "Auditory speech processin' is the same. 'At'll make this a wee bit easier." He moved closer to the cot. "Steve, ah'm goin' to touch ye, now." Reaching out, Carson firmly grasped the stiff leather encasing the wraith's upper arm. Steve shied away as red flared in the upper-middle of his parietal lobes. "Somatosensory placement seems the same."
Dr. Kaile returned with a tray, and a dim penlight and a whiff of sulfur told Carson that the wraith's visual and olfactory processors were slightly displaced, but basically in the generally expected areas. "Ah want ye to say somethin' now."
Still snorting from the sulfur, Steve hiss in irritation, "Why is this necessary?"
The lower and rear portions of the frontal lobes lit up. "At'll do. Speech center placement also similar to humans." Dr. Morgan brought a data tablet over. Taking it, Carson handed it to the annoyed wraith. "'Ere, read tha'. It's ancient."
Steve's eyes darted over the short paragraph, "It's utter nonsense."
"Ah can'nae find out how the organic tools affect ye unless ah know wha' yer brain normally does. Visual language processin' placement appears the same." Taking the tablet back, Carson returned it to Morgan and crossed his arms, surveying the disgruntled wraith pensively. He was almost done with the preplanned control tests.
But… A few others had just occurred to him.
This could get dicey.
Oval pupils contracted as Steve narrowed his green eyes, insolently catching and holding Dr. Beckett's stare.
He decided to do it. "Ah'd ask ye to taste somethin', but ah doubt ye'd consent."
A warning hiss. "That assumption is correct."
Carson nodded, "Ah thought so." Slowly stretching a hand out, he reached past his annoyed charge's head, deliberately holding the defensive gaze. Steve's eyes narrowed further, but he maintained eye contact, meeting the challenge. Beckett suddenly grinned. "However, ah will do this." With a deft flick, he snapped one of the wires forward, swinging it past the orifice on Steve's cheek.
On the monitor, the lower, enlarged portion of the temporal lobes lit up like a Christmas tree.
"HIIISSSSSSSS!!!" Flinching, Steve jerked away, almost tearing the headband of electrodes off. Activity in his hindbrain intensified briefly.
"Oo. Got a bit o' reflex there."
Stunners clattered to readiness as the wraith rounded on Beckett with another hiss, blinking angrily. The orifice on his cheek was constricted once more.
Carson raised his hands pacifyingly, noting some activity in the cerebrum's frontal lobes. "Ah'm sorry. 'At was a mite rude o' me."
"Apology not accepted!"
"Ah needed to elicit a strong emotional response. Anger's usually easiest." Lowering his hands, Carson continued clinically reciting observations. "Potential processin' o' electrical sensory information located in lower temporal lobes. Ah suspect magnetic processin' may occur 'ere too. Emotional response apparent in upper frontal lobes, placement similar to humans, but expression pattern notably different."
He smiled pleasantly. That'd had gone better than anticipated. "Okay. Two controls left. Make me see somethin'."
Recovering from the shock, the wraith gave a disbelieving chuff, "What?"
Undeterred, Carson stared at Steve expectantly, "Make me see somethin'. The black shadows tha' confuse prey. Ah heard ye whacked Sheppard wi' 'em earlier."
Obviously displeased with being manipulated, Steve snarled viciously and lunged his face at Beckett, threateningly baring his translucent teeth. Black, wispy mist flooded the infirmary, making Lieutenant Geerman and the marines tense.
Not intimidated by the display, Carson crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows disapprovingly. "Is tha' expression really necessary?"
Olive eyes widening, the wraith leaned back, hissing softly as his pale features adopted a calm, neutral look. The dark mist continued flowing past the equipment.
"'At's better." Still facing the cot, Dr. Beckett turned his head slightly, glancing at the monitor. The odd nodule on Steve's thalamus, which had been holding a steady, yellowish-green, had taken on a faint yellowish-orange tinge. And the extra lobes in his cerebral cortex, which had contained blues and violets, were now dotted with red.
"Beautiful," Carson breathed, "Generalized telepathic processin' is confirmed in the cerebral cortex's well-developed extra lobes." He rubbed his chin, 'hmmed' thoughtfully, and grinned, "This area ah'll 'ereafter refer to as the psychial lobes."
Steve snorted disdainfully, and a few of the staff chuckled slightly.
Beckett gave the chucklers a wink. "Major Sheppard'll love tha'. Ah hadn' named anythin' yet." Sobering he glanced at the screen again, "Mild telepathic sensory regulation appears to be occurrin' in a specialized an' well-developed structure on the rear o' the thalamus. Ah will refrain from namin' this the psychalamus node."
Turning, Carson refocused on the silent, but still annoyed, wraith. Olive eyes stared unblinkingly at him. "Ye can drop the shadows, now."
The undulating sea of wispy black mist vanished.
"Okay, just one more test."
Holding his recent tormentor's gaze, Steve slowly cocked his head, "What is it?"
In response, Dr. Beckett dropped his crossed arms, turned crisply on his heel, and strode purposefully for Dr. Morgan, who was approaching with another tray. "Thank ye, Doctor. If ye'd wait out 'ere please." Morgan stopped outside the semi-circle of equipment and passed the tray in. Accepting it, Carson walked to a tape mark on the floor and showed the grey platter's contents to his charge.
"Telepathically probe these items."
Steve eyed the gold-tinted metallic cylinders dubiously. "What are they?"
"Does'nae matter. They're telepathically inert."
"I see…" Expelling an amused chuff of air, the wraith stared at the control subjects disdainfully. "I cannot make contact with them."
"Tha's as it should be." They were only lipstick tubes… Watching the screen, Carson saw that the newly-named psychial lobes had lit up with isolated dots of high activity again. The placement, however, was different. "Targeted telepathic activity confirmed in psychial lobes. Areas o' overlap wi' the generalized activity exist, but the expression pattern is distinctly different." His gaze darted to the thalamus. Its extra node was glowing a yellowish-orange. "Telepathic sensory regulation in the thalamus is similar in placement to generalized activity, but slightly more intense."
Carson turned his back on Steve, hiding the tray from sight.
The psychial lobes went dark.
"Do it again."
A sharp chuff. "There is nothing to sense. I have no way of targeting my probe."
"A strong visual component. Interestin'… Okay, Steve. Ah'm goin' to ask ye to do it a few more times." Dr. Beckett passed the tray back, then watched the monitor as Dr. Morgan carried it through the infirmary, stopping on other preset tape marks. When Morgan reached the far wall, Beckett nodded in satisfaction. "Excellent. We'll graph tha' later, but distance appears to be 'aving a linear effect—"
"You will find it is ultimately exponential."
Carson glanced at the cot in surprise. The wraith was still watching the tray. "Really? Ah didn' see signs o' any curve. 'At's a long range."
"Yessss…." A low hiss, "Now may I know what those are?"
Already carrying the tray away, Dr. Morgan called over his shoulder, "Dr. Sheckle's favorite lipstick tubes."
Oval-pupiled eyes stared blankly at the retreating scientist's back.
"Facial cosmetics," Carson explained, "They were the right size an' weight. An' the physical appearance met our parameters." They'd been looking for shiny and metallic, and Morgan had been on bead-sifting duty when Carson called.
Steve chuffed softly, but declined to comment, "Are your control tests done?"
"Aye, ah believe so." Carson called to Dr. Morgan, "If ye'd kindly bring the wee beasties out, Tim? Ah think we're ready." Wee, starving, beasties…
"Will do, Carson."
An eager hiss filled the air. Leather rustled as Steve turned towards the door Morgan had taken. By the screen, Dr. Kaile, who'd been watching the scan results ever since disposing of the sulfur and penlight, eyed the wraith anxiously.
"Not so fast," Carson pointed at the visibly-perking alien warningly. "First ah want ye to close yer mind to their telepathic signals. Like ye did in the cell."
Steve snorted and faced forward again, impatient eyes narrowing submissively, "As you wish, Doctor Beckett." The activity in his psychial lobes dulled to a dim violet, and his thalamus intensified from yellowish-green to fiery orange.
Noting the extra node's sudden brightness, Carson 'hmmed' thoughtfully. "Would ah be right in thinkin' this requires a lot o' effort on yer part?"
Translucent teeth flashed as pale lips twitched, emitting an evasive chuff. "Perhaps… Perhaps not… Again, an irrelevant line of inquiry."
With a sigh, Dr. Beckett shared a glance with Dr. Kaile and refocused on the monitor. "Forget ah mentioned it." Without looking at the wraith, he continued offhandedly, "By the way, Ah have'nae formally introduced ye two yet. This is—"
"Dr. Kaile," a low hiss, "I heard…"
He should've known… "She's a specialist in neurology an' neurochemistry," Carson continued, "She's got an incredible, in-depth understanding o' the brain's more complex interactions. She'll be 'elpin' us interpret today's results."
On the cot, Steve cocked his head, eyeing the petit, tow-headed woman appraisingly. "I look forward to your observations, Dr. Kaile. I expect they will be enlightening." The lean, black-coated body suddenly straightened. Green eyes snapped to the door, and Steve's hands delicately unclasped. Wires swayed, and the faceted shoulders glittered dangerously as he gripped the mattress with rigidly splayed fingers.
Unnerved by the abrupt end to what'd apparently been nothing but a token acknowledgment of human pleasantries, Kaile swallowed her unvoiced reply and stared at the monitor. A few seconds later, clicking footsteps began drifting into the room.
"Tha' would be Dr. Morgan returning wi' our subjects."
A breathy, anticipation-laden hiss, "At lasssst…"
"Aye," Carson agreed, "At last." He'd been waiting for this all morning.
Dr. Morgan finally emerged from the doorway, and Steve exhaled in audible pleasure, instantly pinning the small tray he was holding with a fervent stare. His eyes drank in the pair of glimmering objects the tray held.
"Okay. Dr. Morgan, if ye don' mind—"
Another hiss interrupted Carson, "Do you wish me to probe them?"
Beckett's eyebrows lifted as Morgan placed the tray on a cart and positioned it on the furthest tape mark. He turned to Steve in puzzlement, "Do ye think it's necessary?"
The wraith snorted softly, tracking the finger guards' progress through the infirmary, "Yes. They are no longer broadcasting."
Dr. Kaile frowned curiously. According to the monitor, the wraith's mind was still closed. Nervously, she cleared her throat, "How do you know that?"
Steve's pale chin jerked with a sharp chuff. "The act of closing one's mind is simply a sophisticated form of ignoring. At the moment, there is nothing to ignore."
Using the remote, Carson highlighted the brightly glowing image of the wraith's thalamus. Consciously inhibiting an entire set of sensory input. That would certainly explain the increased activity… He passed the remote to Dr. Kaile, who began flicking through various windows. "So they turned 'emselves off, then?"
"Once unable to sense my presence, they likely shut down to conserve resources. Such efficiency wou—" Snorting sharply, Steve snapped his face towards Carson, inadvertently jostling the electrodes and displacing a pair of wires. Flinching, he swept the offenders away, hissing irritably, "What is he doing?!"
Glancing at Dr. Morgan, who'd left the cart, (and it's contents), by the far wall and was heading for the equipment array, Carson hastened to the cot and carefully drew the wires back into place. The wraith stilled at his touch, eyes narrowing passively as he gently untangled ivory hair from the leads. "Ye need to stay calm, Steve. Strong emotion and physical agitation are unnecessary variables. Ah explained tha' earlier."
A sullen, protesting snort, "We have not begun yet."
Carson raised his eyebrows reproachfully, "Ah beg to differ. We began the moment the test subjects entered the room. Kaile's takin' a baseline."
Steve exhaled a hissing sigh and glanced at the monitor. Dr. Kaile was watching his frontal lobes with rapt fascination. "I understand." His gaze flicked to the finger guards again. "I will endeavor to be more accommodating."
All across the screen, activity in various windows cooled as the wraith inhaled deeply and slowly released a long breath. Kaile and Beckett watched the dramatic change in amazement. "That's incredible," Dr. Kaile whispered.
Reaching the array, Dr. Morgan stepped past a bundle of cables and came to see what they were staring at. Kaile showed him a quick 'before and after' shot.
"Yeah," he agreed, "that's pretty impressive…"
Carson silently concurred. But could the wraith keep it up? "To answer yer question, Steve, ye told Major Sheppard tha' the organic tools 'ave a limited range. To study tha', we'll be collectin' data based on their distance from ye. An', seeing as ye also said the signals' effects are cumulative, it's safer to start 'em far away an' gradually bring 'em closer. Tha' way, we can observe any changes in yer behavior better."
A pleased smile ghosted across Steve's mouth, "Your methodology appears sound today, Doctor Beckett. Shall I probe them now?"
"Can ye do it wi'out opening yer mind?"
"Of course…"
Interesting. Carson asked Dr. Kaile to highlight the slowly rotating, semi-transparent psychial lobes, "Then go ahead."
The psychial lobes lit up briefly, then darkened once more. "Targeted telepathic activity observed," Dr. Beckett recited, "pattern similar to the control tests…" Steve's thalamus took on an orangey-red tinge for an instant, but the color quickly cooled to a uniform orange, "Wha' was tha'?"
"They shut off again," the wraith hissed. "They are too far away to sense my presence without continual probing."
At a nod from Beckett, Dr. Morgan jogged to the cart and rolled it to the next tape mark. "So much fer tha' data point," Carson muttered. "Okay, Steve, try it again."
The same thing happened.
"Next mark, Tim."
This time the orangey-red tinge in the thalamus remained.
"There!" Carson grinned, "Third time's the charm."
Steve's teeth bared in satisfaction, and his eyes slid from the tools to the monitor with interest. "Shall I open my mind?"
"Not yet. We're goin' to run through all o' the distance marks like this first."
Steve looked at Carson with a disbelieving chuff, "Why?"
Beckett shared a puzzled glance with Kaile, "To see how it affects ye, o' course."
Electrodes glittered under the lights as the wraith carefully cocked his head, "They cannot affect me when my mind is closed."
"But it's affectin' tha'," Carson pointed out, indicating Steve's thalamus.
A derisive snort, "A paltry side-note. It will have no bearing on any conclusions drawn." The olive eyes locked on Dr. Beckett's blue ones knowingly, "It is a separate study entirely." Steve paused. When he spoke again, his multi-tonal voice was lower, resonating with warning, "I only agreed to one study," a soft hiss, "Today…"
Dismayed, Carson opened and closed his mouth, unable to truthfully refute the statements. It was, technically, an unrelated set of data points. Studying the effects of telepathic signals on a closed mind as opposed to the effects on an open mind. But it WAS a legitimate line of study because it involved the tools. It hadn't even occurred to Carson that the wraith would nitpick the details of his participation like this. Especially given his interest in the results. And his fascination with the equipment…
Unless… Hope returned as Beckett glanced at the sophisticated medical devices surrounding them. What if that was the point…?
Smiling brightly, he met the wraith's warning stare with a cheerful, "Can ah infer then tha' ye would'nae mind participatin' in other studies on other days?"
Steve's answer was a barely perceptible widening of the eyes and an unenlightening, sharply expelled chuff.
"Nevermind," Carson poured on the cheer, sensing he'd guessed right, "Let's proceed to phase two, shall we? If ye'd kindly open yer mind?…"
Slowly tilting his head, Steve hissed softly and bared his teeth for a second. Then his olive irises released Beckett dismissively and fastened on the monitor. Activity flared in his psychial lobes. His thalamus cooled to a steady yellow… Straightening, Steve scooted to the edge of the cot, leaning forward as much as possible without leaving the space between the ancient scanner's panels. He exhaled with pleasure…
Casting a glance at the screen, Carson decided to focus on the wraith. As important as it was to observe the devices, it was equally vital to observe their subject. The data could be replayed, (and would be, over and over in minute detail during analysis), but first hand observations of the wraith's reactions could not. The video camera perched on top of the Eeg could only capture so much.
Another exhalation whispered through the infirmary.
Dr. Kaile was flipping through the windows, quietly talking Dr. Morgan through some interactions she was seeing between the different lobes. Able to hear every word, Steve listened raptly with dark, dilated pupils, drinking in the shifting display of colors as the neurologist explained what the patterns meant.
Intrigued, Dr. Beckett rubbed his chin thoughtfully and took a quick look at the image of Steve's hypothalamus. Its pleasure center was glowing orange with high activity levels, just like when he'd first switched to the compiler's input…
Carson 'hmmed,' feeling a hypothesis form. What if—
"What are the time intervals you are using?"
Jolted back to the present experiment, Dr. Beckett turned to Steve with a shrug, "Actually, ah hadn' decided tha' yet. Perhaps ye could offer an opinion? Ah was thinkin' either five or ten minutes…?"
Not taking his eyes off the screen, Steve tilted his face pensively. "Five minutes per marker should be more than adequate." A rueful chuff. "As I have already been exposed to the signals, it is likely that I'm predisposed to be receptive to their influence."
"The whole, 'cumulative effect' thing, then…" Carson nodded. "Sheppard mentioned tha' too. Ye think they'll pick up where they left off wi' ye?"
"No…" the wraith's face tilted the other way, "But the effects will build more rapidly than before. That I am aware of what to expect will be beneficial."
"In controlling 'em, ye mean?"
A breathy hiss, "Yessss…"
Carson signaled to Dr. Morgan. "Five minutes it is."
While Morgan fiddled with the stopwatch dangling from his neck, Carson crossed his arms and returned his attention to Steve, who ignored him.
"Nothin' to do but wait."
And wait they did. The seconds ticked by, punctuated by regular beeps from the timer. Dr. Kaile stayed glued to the monitor, intently searching for the first clear sign that the can-openers were singing their insidious, inaudible song. Dr. Morgan manned his timer, moving the cart among the markers as needed and pointing out activity of interest when Kaile's stream of comments faltered. Dr. Beckett listened, occasionally making comments of his own, but mostly concentrating on their black-coated guest, who gave every appearance of being entranced by the data floating across the screen.
Steve's single-minded fascination with the images of his brain was unbroken during the first couple intervals. He ignored the organic tools completely.
Then, halfway into the third interval…
He shot the dully-gleaming artifacts a glance.
With a sharp chuff, the wraith snapped his focus back to the monitor. His scrutiny of the data resumed. It was soon interrupted again, by another glance early in the fourth interval. Then a third, barely a minute later. As his lapses in attention increased in frequency, Steve's olive eyes swung back and forth, absently slipping to the tools, then forcefully wrenching away, as if reprimanded for wandering.
Dr. Kaile highlighted Steve's frontal lobes, muttering, "Something's happening here… I'm not sure what. I can't pinpoint the initial stimuli yet…"
Fidgeting joined the glances. Carson rubbed his chin, watching Steve with concern. The wraith was obviously trying to ignore what was happening to him, but it was a given he'd eventually fail… Carson looked at Lieutenant Geerman and his marines. They were standing more alert, holding their stunners ready. He grimaced slightly. A show of force wasn't the answer to the coming dilemma…
By the end of the sixth interval, the wraith's eyes were in constant motion, darting between the screen and tools so quickly, Beckett doubted he was fully focusing on either. As soon as the seventh interval started, his breathing quickened. Steve's lichen brow furrowed in frustration, and he sharply shook his head, as if clearing it, blinking rapidly.
"He's getting agitated," Dr. Kaile noted, still watching the monitor, "It's muddying the results. Can we do some—"
An irritated hiss cut her off.
Deciding to intervene, Carson stepped between the aggravated wraith and the cart carrying the finger guards, deliberately blocking the artifacts from view.
The olive eyes hit his white lab coat as if slamming into a wall, and Steve jerked back with a snort. His gaze snapped to the doctor's face, demeanor shifting from restless hostility to silent gratitude in a heartbeat.
Carson smiled inoffensively, "Are ye okay? Can ye continue?"
Steve expelled a shaky chuff of air and closed his eyes. He inhaled and exhaled slowly. "I am all right. Though I cannot sense the tools' signals, their effects are… Distracting." Wide nostrils flared as he took another breath, and Steve released a barely audible hiss. "The combination is… Disconcerting…"
Dr. Beckett nodded, imagining the stress the wraith was under. Knowingly putting himself in a situation that would force his mind to betray him… It was, in a way, both incredibly foolish and scientifically admirable. "Would ye like to take a break?"
Electrodes twinkled as Steve's ivory hair shook in a slight negative. "No. I will continue." His eyes slit open, fastening on a point somewhere by Carson's knees, "Stopping would add unnecessary variables. I will simply," the multi-tonal voice dropped disappointedly, "be unable to follow your Dr. Kaile's explanations."
Carson blinked. Was that the real cause of the agitation? "Ah would'nae worry 'bout tha'. We're recordin' this entire experiment. Anythin' ye miss can be replayed later. Ah'm sure Kaile will be 'appy to explain her findin's to ye."
Steve's eyes flicked to Carson's in surprise.
"Ah said ye'd get to view the results. Tha' includes review an' analysis."
A soft chuff and disbelieving, (maybe uncomprehending?) blink.
Dr. Beckett sighed, gesturing to the screen in exasperation, "Did ye think this was all ye'd get? Tha' we'd only show ye stuff when we knew ye weren' thinkin' straight?"
A querulous hiss and confused glance at Dr. Kaile told Carson that that was exactly what the distracted wraith had expected.
"Bloody 'Ell," he muttered. Touching the black, leather-clad arm to get its owner's attention, (and ignoring how his unfocused charge startled at the contact), Carson stated emphatically, "Look, Steve. Ah don' work like tha'. Stop worryin' about unnecessary stuff an' calm yer mind."
Oval pupils searched Beckett's face for a few seconds. Then Steve snorted softly. Slowly, he inhaled and exhaled once more. On the monitor, activity levels throughout his brain cooled, though not as dramatically as they had earlier.
"Much better," Dr. Kaile said, "Just keep doing that."
"We're almost done with this interval," added Dr. Morgan.
Carson thought fast, remembering what the last decrease in distance had done. During the controls, Steve had claimed distance had an exponential relationship with telepathic effort. A similar trend seemed to be occurring with the signal's effect. If he was right, Steve would soon be unable to concentrate on anything but the tools. Carson had already exploited the visual component of attention by blocking Steve's view, so he needed to find something else to help the wraith retain his focus.
Inspiration struck.
"Perhaps there's somethin' outside this experiment ye'd like to talk about?"
Beckett realized he'd opened Pandora's box the instant the words left his mouth.
Ivory slid across black as Steve tilted his pale face as far as the waterfall of wires streaming from his jury-rigged headband would allow. "I know what you are doing, Doctor. And there are many things about Atlantis I would like to discuss." He hissed, smiling predatorily, "How far will you go to accommodate me?"
Carson frowned, annoyed that the prisoner was taking advantage of his predicament to play the information game. "Ah suppose tha' depends on how far ye push me," he stated. Crossing his arms indignantly, he stared at the wraith with a mix of dismay and reproach, "Do ye really think this is the time or place for tha' sort o' thing?"
Steve's predatory smile widened, "Where is Major Sheppard?"
Apparently he did. Dr. Beckett sighed and gave in. "E's off-world."
"What is he doing, off-world?"
"By this time? Negotiatin' an alliance, ah expect."
A soft chuff. Steve tilted his face the other way, "Where is the world he's negotiating on? What is its address?"
Dr. Beckett heaved another sigh and disappointedly shook his head, "Now Steve. Ye know ah cannot tell ye tha'. Ask somethin' else."
A smug hiss met his refusal. As it faded, the wraith's smile vanished, "Doctor Beckett…" Olive eyes, unexpectedly uncertain, searched Carson's face, "You are not as well versed in deception as Major Sheppard…"
Ohhh boy. Suddenly glad Sergeant Bates was also off-world, and not in charge of the security escort, Carson answered warily, "Ah'll take tha' as a compliment."
"It is intended as such." Steve exhaled, a short, decisive chuff. Uncertainty hardened to resolve, "The other of my kind that was captured. What happened to him?"
Ice flooded Dr. Beckett's chest at the mention of the Hoff project. He swallowed guiltily, "Ah would prefer a different subject, if ye don' mind."
"I do mind," Steve hissed accusingly, "The other of my kind is dead."
Carson froze. "Did Major Sheppard tell ye tha'?"
A soft snort, "He did not have to. It is the only logical explanation."
Unhappy with the topic, but realizing Dr. Morgan had moved the artifacts to less than fifteen feet away and the wraith hadn't lost his focus, Carson grudgingly nodded. "Aye. That it is." He watched the expectant face warily, unsure how the alien would react to his next words, "Yer right. Tha' other wraith is dead."
Steve merely narrowed his eyes and inclined his head slightly. "As I thought." He leaned forward, flashing translucent teeth with a sharp chuff, "Why is he dead?"
Beckett's white-coated shoulders lifted in a shrug, "Believe it or not, it was an accident. Ah was hopin' to keep him a while—"
"An accident?" The multi-toned comment was punctuated with an explosive chuff of disbelief. Around the equipment array, stunners clattered to readiness. "You killed one of my kind by 'accident?' How? We are not easy to kill, Doctor."
"Ah'm afraid ah'm not at liberty to discuss tha' wi' ye."
"Why not?"
Carson shrugged again, "Truthfully? 'Cause it's a security risk. We don' plan on doin' it again, an' we don' want anyone else doin' it either."
Steve hissed and leaned back, "You don't plan on doing it again…"
"Never." Dr. Beckett was adamant. He was never testing the Hoffan drug on a live wraith again. Or a human, for that matter.
Oval pupils regarded the determined Scotsman in confusion, "You would discard what I assume is an extremely potent weapon so easi—"
"Ah'm not discussin' this."
Teeth bared, releasing an irritated hiss.
"Hiss all ye like. Ah won' change my mind."
Steve jerked back with a startled snort, and his translucent teeth vanished as quickly as they'd revealed. "I understand." The pale face averted submissively, then snapped up again, dark eyes blinking in bewilderment.
Carson hid a frown, wondering at the odd reaction.
A soft series of uncertain chuffs issued from the wraith, "The place I will be going tomorrow, Doctor…" The last word hissed, lifting in a question.
It took Beckett a moment to work out what was really being asked, but once he did, he shook his head and smiled reassuringly. "It's not the place we took the other wraith. Ah promise, it's completely different."
"Where…?"
"Ah don' know where—"
A frustrated snarl, followed by another startled snort cut Carson off. Steve averted his face, blinking bewilderedly once more.
"Are ye all right?"
"I don't kno—"
"I got it!" Dr. Kaile exclaimed. "I've isolated a signal." Dr. Beckett and Steve both looked at her. The petit scientist pointed at the screen, where a set of enlarged images was slowly rotating. The psychial lobes were there, along with close-ups of specific areas within the frontal lobes and the thalamus. Using the remote's laser pointer, Kaile highlighted several spots of rhythmically pulsing activity. "I'm not sure exactly what these all are, but they're definitely linked." She indicated a curl of red in the psychial lobes, "And THIS is the catalyst." Glancing at Steve, who was watching the pointer's movements with aggressive determination, Kaile began pointing to the spots in turn, "In a human, these would be memory, regulation and direction of attention, emotional response, and," the pointer stopped on a part of the thalamus pulsing out of synch with the others, "an inhibitive response, probably of the motor variety."
"The signal stimulating the urge to pick up the tools," Steve hissed.
"Exactly!" Kaile grinned.
Carson stared at the linked images thoughtfully, "Why the inhibitive response?"
"Oh," pleased with the question, Kaile bounced a bit, "That's 'cause it's become entwined with his desire to resist the signal's effects. He's constantly reminding himself not to act on the—"
A barking chuff interrupted her. "What about the other signal?" Steve snapped.
Frightened by the intense impatience suddenly directed at her, Dr. Kaile swallowed nervously. "I'm still working on it. I haven't finished isolating—"
An irritated snarl, "What HAVE you isolated?"
As Kaile hurriedly began resizing windows, Dr. Beckett stepped between her and the wraith. Though his hands raised placatingly, his voice was firm, "Calm yerself. Ah'll not 'ave ye terrorizin' my staff."
Steve froze with a snort, then averted his face, ivory hair swinging, "That was not my intention." His pale brow furrowed, subtly shifting electrodes.
Carson frowned as he moved back to re-hide the cart from view. This new behavior pattern didn't fit their current hypotheses…
The rustle of leather issued from the cot, and restless olive eyes fixed on Atlantis's chief surgeon, blinking with renewed confusion. "Doctor Beckett," Steve chuffed softly, a low, distressed sound, "I think… Perhaps… I ne—"
"Here's what I've got so far." Unaware of the potentially enlightening exchange she'd interrupted, Dr. Kaile was highlighting a new set of images. The laser pointer hovered over a spot in the frontal lobes. It was pulsing green, markedly lower than the activity levels around it. "Your idea about a pairing of signals was correct. This, in humans, is an area associated with self-reflection. It's definitely being intermittently inhibited." She pointed to the thalamus, "But I'm not sure which area of activity is responsible. This signal appears to be closely entangled with the first—"
"That would make sense," The wraith leaned forward, fixated on the screen as if the last out burst hadn't happened. "What about the catalyst?"
"I haven't found it yet," Dr. Kaile's pointer swept to the psychial lobes, which were peppered with orange and red blobs, "It could be any of these—"
An annoyed hiss split the air.
"Or it could be incorporated into the first one I showed you."
"Which is it?" Steve barked, baring his teeth.
"Steve…"
Carson's warning met a dismissive snort. "Which is it?!"
"I'll find it eventually," Kaile quickly added, glancing at the wraith uneasily, "This signal's effects have been extremely subtle. Building gradually. I only noticed in the last few intervals. With a little more time, it should come into focu—"
"There is no more time!" snarled Steve. "Perhaps, if they were closer—" Wheels squeaked as he shot to his feet, smoothly spinning to face the cart. Wires snapped, and cables tautened. The jury-rigged band of electrodes yanked off, and a chorus of high-pitched whines split the air as machines protested the loss of input.
Lieutenant Geerman's security escort surged forward, stunners clattering.
Stopping short, Steve reared back and froze, blinking bewilderedly, staring at the bristling circle of weapons' barrels with shock.
"Everyone, stay calm!" Pushing into the circle of soldiers, Carson pressed the stunners beside him down, praying the safety precaution didn't make whatever had just happened worse. Approaching the black-coated alien slowly, he caught his gaze.
"Steve, ah need ye to sit," Carson implored.
Hissing shakily, Steve glanced at Beckett, but didn't move. His eyes flicked to the cart, now fully within his view. They zeroed in on the organic tools. Leather and wires jerked as Steve hastily aborted a step towards them.
Carson blocked his way, "Ah said, sit. Dr. Morgan will bring the artifacts closer." Wary oval pupils skipped to the guards, darting across the stunners. Carson gestured for Geerman to stand down. "We're all right. 'E's okay. Aren't ye, Steve?"
The wraith inhaled and exhaled, visibly composing himself. "Yesss…" As the marines backed off slightly, his face swung towards Dr. Kaile, "The data…"
Following the look, Carson nodded. The images on the main screen had vanished. "Aye. Ye stepped out from between the panels."
Snorting softly, Steve retreated, placing himself within the boundaries of the metal frames. The pictures of his brain reappeared, minus the color-coded electrical activity. Throughout the equipment array, stunners lowered.
"Ah think this might be a good time for a break."
"No," Steve slowly sat. After arranging his coat with deliberate care, he retrieved the headband of electrodes and proceeded to carefully untangle it. "I can continue."
"Are ye sure tha's a good idea—"
Pale lips twitched, emitting an impatient chuff, "I have one more method of concentration at my disposal."
Dr. Kaile and Dr. Morgan exchanged glances, and Carson crossed his arms, doubtfully. "An' wha' might tha' be—"
"Meditation!" Seemingly startled by his own hostile bark, Steve took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The ivory head bowed, and he delicately replaced the electrode band. "I apologize… Doctor Beckett. Would you fix this?"
Resigned, Carson nodded at Kaile and moved to the wraith's side, deftly adjusting the displaced sensors. On the Electroencephalograph, angry red lights began switching to happy green. "For our safety an' yer's, Steve, the next time ye get up, ah will stop this experiment. Whether ye like it, or not."
Without opening his eyes, Steve hissed in consent, "I understand. If such an eventuality occurs, I will not protest."
"Ah'm glad to hear it…" The electronic squeals silenced abruptly as Dr. Beckett twisted a snapped wire back together, turning the Eeg's last red light green. On the screen, the 3D, semi-transparent brain blossomed with color again. "There. Ah think we're good to go now…"
Light glimmered across Steve's gloved wrist as he delicately clasped his hands in his lap and began taking in slow, even breaths.
Dr. Kaile and Dr. Morgan clustered around the monitor. "This is amazing," Kaile whispered. Morgan frowned for a moment, then nodded agreement.
"He shouldn't be able to do that…"
As one, the pair shot the motionless wraith nervous, surreptitious glances.
Carson came over to see what they were looking at. Dr. Kaile indicated the windows she'd highlighted earlier. "It's like he's temporarily reset everything." The images of the first signal's effects popped up. All the activity had cooled, and a few spots looked as if they'd just started forming. "It's as if the signals are starting from scratch," she murmured, "Only accelerated… It's like we're watching the entire experiment over again, in fast-forward. Everything's the same…"
Catching sight of something odd as Dr. Kaile flicked to the second signal's windows again, Carson quietly relieved her of the remote.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Ah'm not sure yet." Splitting the screen in two, Beckett called up data from the experiment's start and began playing it in fast-forward, comparing the activity patterns in various windows. He stopped when he saw part of Steve's thalamus. "There! Tha's not the same." Not waiting for Kaile or Morgan to look, Carson banished everything and pulled up the first signal's thalamus close-up. "It's there too," he breathed, "Tell me tha's not wha' ah think it is…" Zooming out to his colleagues' protests, he rotated the thalamus in space and zoomed in once more, highlighting what he'd spotted. Midnight blue, slowly fading into violet, currently dominated this part of Steve's thalamus. But in the fast-forwarding window beside it, yellow cooled to green.
Dr. Kaile's eyes widened in horror. "That's not connected to the others!"
A stopwatch beeped.
"This interval's up," Dr. Morgan whispered, "Should I…?"
Carson shook his head and lowered his voice, "Leave it. Ah'm droppin' the last two data points." Clearing his throat Carson turned to face the cot. The wraith hadn't moved. "Steve, is it possible tha' a third signal might be present?"
No response. Wires glistened as Steve exhaled a long hiss.
"Steve? Ah need to kn—"
"I heard." The wraith's lips twitched in suppressed irritation, "A third signal is extremely unlikely."
"But it's possible?" Carson pressed.
Another long exhalation, this time annoyed, "Given the tools' origins… Yesss."
That was all Beckett needed to hear. He headed for the Eeg. "We're done. Steve, if ye'd close yer mind, ple—"
An angry snort split the air. "Doctor Beckett, I am trying to meditate. Stop talking to me."
"Ye can stop meditatin'. We're done. Close yer—"
"We are not done! I have not gotten up yet!"
The security escort tensed as Carson thought better of switching off the Eeg and warily approached the cot, "Steve, ah need ye to listen. Ye need to close yer mind. The experiment is too dangerous to continue."
Steve hissed furiously, snapping his eyes open. His face pushed towards Carson threateningly, nostrils flaring. "You think I cannot control myself!?"
Carson glanced meaningfully at the wraith's feeding hand. Amber was flaring erratically as the gloved fingers flexed. "The question's not whether ye can control yerself. The question is whether the starvin' beasties'll let ye."
Snarling in confusion, Steve jerked his face back, "What do you mean?"
"Close yer mind, an' ah'll tell ye."
An agitated hiss exploded, "WHY SHOULD I?!"
Stunners clattered to readiness as Carson quickly retreated, and Steve twitched forward, as if to follow, stopping only because he felt the sharp tug of electrodes.
"Settle down, Steve," Lieutenant Geerman ordered, "Listen to Dr. Beckett."
The wraith snarled again, this time angrily, and the bristling circle of weapons inched closer to the cot. Dr. Kaile, Dr. Morgan, and the infirmary's staff withdrew to the next room, as they'd been instructed to do in the event of a possible incident. Beckett was left alone with the equipment, staring at the irate wraith and his marine escort.
"We WILL knock you out," Geerman warned.
A defensive hiss.
Not wanting the experiment to end on a negative, involuntary note, (i.e. with his subject stunned), Carson waved his arms, adding a big, white, lab-coaty flourish to attract Steve's scattering attention. The oval-pupils shot towards him with a snort. "Look 'ere, an' ye'll see the problem," Carson swept his palm across the cooling, midnight blue image of Steve's thalamus, "Electrical activity in this region is bein' severely inhibited." He indicated the earlier images, "'Ere's the progression." Restarting the replay, he tripled the fast-forward, heightening the drama of the color shift, "As ye'll see, the inhibition is acceleratin' exponentially. Tha's wha's—"
"QUIET, Doctor!" Steve's eyes darted over the screen. His hands clenched on the cot's mattress as he swayed forward, lean body trembling with the effort to focus long enough to interpret what he was seeing. "This is… What?"
"A severe, inhibition progressio—"
"No! What IS this?" Ivory rippled as Steve violently shook his head, cutting Carson's confused reply off with a shaking, frustrated hiss. "My meaning!" The olive eyes closed, and Steve carefully bit his words out, "What. Does. It. DO?"
Stunners lowered minutely as Carson banished the replay, letting an overview of the whole brain pop up. "If ye were human—"
"I am NOT human!"
"But if ye were—"
A growling hiss, "STOP SAYING that!" Steve's eyes flew open, fastening on Carson's with the slow burn of warning desperation. "NO IF'S!"
Abruptly realizing that the wraith was mentally unable to handle indefinite concepts at the moment, Carson quickly reframed his suspicion as a statement. "This region o' yer brain," Olive irises distractedly tracked Beckett's hand as he waved it across the thalamus, "is responsible for regulating spontaneous impulses."
Steve blinked uncomprehendingly. Carson's hand dropped, and the eerily empty gaze followed it down until it disappeared into a lab-coat pocket. Bereft of target, the blank gaze slid back up, meandering idly as it returned to the highlighted image…
Carson suppressed a sigh of disappointment. It was entirely possible that the wraith was too far-gone to process the implications of the data. If that were the case, stopping the signals by removing the artifacts from the room could provoke a potentially violent reaction. Chancing that would be irresponsible… Beckett met Lieutenant Geerman's eyes, steeling himself to give the stun signal.
In the lengthening quiet, Steve's head slowly tilted to one side. Then…
"Impulssssse… Control." A low hiss ghosted through the infirmary.
On the screen… Steve's psychial lobes went dark.
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Thank you for reading! Please review! Again, things I'm working on specifically are: 1. Maintaining a Season 1 feel in the flashback chapters. 2. Keeping the regulars in character.