Just Another Flygirl asked: Whumpay #3 with Scooter please

Prompt: Made Into A Lab Rat

With thanks to Sineater and MariaShadow. This is a slight rift on the prompt and not too whumpy.

'At ease.'

Second Lieutenant Scott Tracy stood at parade rest. It was second nature to him now – left foot 12 inches to the left of his right foot, weight equally distributed and hands clasped behind his back. He faced the trio of men in front of them, one of 20 men standing in the parade ground.

He didn't know his fellow airmen well and only recognised a couple of faces, but he'd kind of expected it. The call had gone out for volunteers and he'd jumped at it. His Dad had always encouraged him to take any duties offered to him to help round out his experience and so he did.

Whether he mean drug trials or not Scott didn't know, but he had read the spiel and decided it was a worthy cause.

Testing a drug that could help maintain a soldier's attention and energy over a longer period without the issues that the previous drugs had had. Anything that could help with the tiredness that prolonged missions could incur with crippling side effects would be a great benefit to the military.

He recognised Major David but not the other two men. There was an air of expectation in the parade square as the Major stepped forward and spoke, and Scott concentrated on what was being said.

'WRAIR has a long history of working with the military running clinical trials in an effort to improve the health and wellbeing of every soldier in every branch of the military. The soldiers who sign up for clinical trials are already heroes before ever doing anything else. You – you are the next batch of heroes, should you chose to sign up and help this highly esteemed establishment.

This is your opportunity to reread the paperwork and ask any more questions before you have the chance to volunteer to participate. This is Doctor Gardner and his assistant Mr Andrews. They will take you each individually into the office and discuss everything in more detail. The building to your left will be your base while you need to be housed for the trial, all other times you will be with your individual squads. Doctor – they're all yours.'

They watched as the Doctor nodded to the Major as he left before he turned and addressed the waiting soldiers.

'Good morning. We will be doing this alphabetically. Mr Andrews will call your name and escort you to see me for our conversation. Thank you.'

Scott stifled a sigh. With Tracy as a surname he was going to be the last, and if they were talking for a while he could be waiting a long time. It didn't matter really, Scott filled the time with thinking what his brothers would be up to right now.

But it didn't take as long as Scott feared before his name was called.

Dr Gardner explained a little of his own background, how he'd been running clinical trials for a couple of decades, his qualifications and a brief overview of the drug they were going to test.

They were on Phase III of the trial. This had been a slow-progression drug, having had the first phase twenty years ago and the second ten years ago. But the Doctor was sure that they had had a breakthrough and this stage of Phase III would lead very quickly to Phase VI and a wider clinical trial that was going to be a single-blind study.

As he talked Scott could see the passion the doctor held for this particular drug, and he found himself being carried along with his enthusiasm. Finally Gardner sat back and asked if Scott had any questions.

Scott found that most of his questions had already been asked, but he asked what he considered the routine questions – side effects, benefits, risks etc. The Doctor was thorough in listing the side effects experienced by the previous studies and how they had countered them.

They didn't sound too bad – the usual upset stomachs, sickness, rashes – and Scott found that he had already decided to be part of this historic study. To find a way to give soldiers more energy, more awareness during combat, was a very worthy cause indeed.

He signed up at the end of the discussion and was shown to a small room where he'd spend the next four days of his life. It was small and sparce, a cot, a table and a lamp was all that was present, with a hanging rail for his uniform.

The rest of the day was taken up with blood test and basic observations. Blood pressure, temperature, height, weight, an ECG and an EEG. Tomorrow he was scheduled for an MRI and more blood works before being given the first shot of the drug or the placebo – which ever he was picked for – and spending the next 24 hours under close scrutiny.

Much has he hated needles Scott was happy to be a pin cushion for the next few days. By the end of the last night he'd felt a bit like a lab rat – eat, give blood, exercise, more tests, rest, another test, eat, give blood, sleep – the same process for two days.

The last day was a designated rest day before a final discussion with Dr Gardner.

It was during the last couple of hours of the observation period that Scott began to feel…weird.

He woke up with a start.

He was hot – no, he was on fire.

Burning. Burning.

Drink.

He needed a drink.

Stumbling from his bed and from his room, Scott made his unsteady way down the mess hall where he knew he could grab a glass of water. Somehow the corridor was longer than it should have been. And his legs didn't seem to be working properly.

Blinking through the sweat Scott suddenly stopped dead. Wasn't there a glass of water on his bedside table? He turned around to backtrack but the movement unbalanced him and Scott found himself on his side on the floor, curled into a ball.

There was the sound of thunder and voices but nothing he could understand and then there was a sharp prick in his arm and the ice cold of sedation and Scott relaxed.

He woke up in the room that he'd been using. There was the bitter taste at the back of his throat that told him he'd been sedated, but the past few hours were a blur. There was a note propped up beside his glass that had been filled with something other than plain water.

Drink this down and come to the office

Scott sighed. He'd failed. Failed at the first hurdle. Scott felt strangely disappointed, he'd been looking forward to making a difference for his fellow servicemen. He downed the bitter, orange-coloured drink and made his way to the office set aside for the doctor, knocking and waiting for permission to enter. Instead of a voice calling him the door was opened by Mr Andrews.

'Ah, Lieutenant Tracy, come in and take a seat. Dr Gardner will be with you shortly.'

Scott sat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk and waited. He'd hardly sat back before the door opened, causing Scott to jump to attention – to the amusement of the doctor.

'Sit down, Scott. Sit, sit. Please. There is no need to be formal here.'

'Yes, Sir. Doctor.'

'Call me Doctor, please. Not sir.'

'Yes Si-Doctor.'

'Due to the experience you had last night I have requested you stay another 24 hours for monitoring.'

'I understand, Doctor.'

'You will be with four others who experienced similar symptoms. We need to check to make sure that there are no more symptoms and run some more tests.'

'Can I ask if any have…dropped out of the trial already? Is that allowed? Am I allowed to ask?'

'No – you're not allowed to ask, but I can say that of all the men who started four days ago a fifth had to drop out due to adverse reactions. Your reaction, while uncomfortable, wasn't extreme at all. In fact, the reaction is quite a common one. We will run some more tests to make sure that there are no issues that we need to check.'

'So…I'm not out of the trial?'

'No, not at all, my boy.'

'Oh.'

'I take it that is good news.'

'Yes! I mean – yes, I'm excited to be part of this. What happens now?'

'Well, while you are on American soil you will be required to attend for follow-up tests and injections every eight weeks. A truck will come and pick you and the others up and bring you all to here. If and when you go abroad these will continue at eight-week intervals for a period of two years. As long as you continue to show no symptoms that we need to worry about at the end of two years you will be given the final injection, which is the last part of the treatment course. After that there will be a last review where we will look at how that last injection has taken. Any more questions?'

'I don't think so. Wait – what happens if I get sent to a different base?'

'Then we will come there. Don't worry about where you are, we have the authorisation to come to whichever base a trial participant is in.'

'Right. Then I have no other questions.'

'Good. Go have breakfast and then I'll see you later in the clinic room.'

'Yes, sir, Doctor.'

There were two other airmen in Scott's unit that had volunteered. While none of them acknowledged each other as instructed to do, Scott knew he felt a little more connected to them.

Weeks went by. Training and daily barracks life kept him busy in the interim weeks between trial weekends, and the time passed very quickly.

Every trial weekend seemed to go smoothly, at least for Scott and some of the other attendees. For the first three weekend visits Scott had similar reactions but each one was less severe until the fourth time when he had no reactions at all.

But as the time passed the people attending dropped off a little. Scott put it down to soldiers moving bases, after all there was no 'gossip' about sick airmen that would have got him wondering, but as eight months passed and there was no news but more airmen dropped out Scott began to think.

That last weekend Scott wanted to ask, but Dr Gardner wasn't present for his tests and treatment. The weekend went as expected and he left for his barracks Sunday evening.

His wingman and best friend, Alvin James, was waiting with coffee, which Scott accepted gratefully.

'Welcome back, Tracy.'

'Thanks, James. What gossip have you got for me?'

'Gossip? Who said I had any gossip?'

'James. Pur-lease. It's late on Sunday and you've just given me some of your special coffee. Ergo you have something to tell me that you think I will not want to hear.'

'Hot damn but you're good, Tracy.'

Scott grinned at his partner-in-crime and sank the coffee. It was smooth and strong and sweet, an unexpected treat. He gestured for James to carry on.

'That trial that I don't know you signed up for?'

'Okay…not what I was expecting.'

'There's been rumours. I – I think you should know.'

'What kind of rumours?'

'Some of the cadets I trained with who have gone to other squads have said there are rumours of airmen going wild. Beating up other men in their squads. One ran straight into the razor wire. Gossip is that they are all part of the same trial.'

'Huh. Well, I'll keep it in mind.'

'And ask your mad scientist?'

'If it makes you feel any better, yes, I'll ask the Doc.'

Scott never got the chance to ask though.

The next day they got their orders.

They were heading for Germany and the border with Bereznik.