Screw ups part 1
This is the first part of Screw ups.
Screw ups
Title: Screw Ups
Author: Amycat8733
Rating: T for language
Pairing(s): none, just friendships
Characters: Sheppard , Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, Dr Zelenka, Carson, Dr Weir
Warning(s): harsh language, somewhat graphic illness
Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or its locales. I only swim in the pool.
Length: 7,206 words (for both parts)
Summary: When two idiots poison Atlantis' military, it's up to Rodney, Radek and Carson to care for Sheppard and find the evidence to pin the guilty parties. Shep whump.
AN - this takes place season three after The Return. No spoilers, just mention of The Storm.
Screw ups
“No, absolutely not! You need to learn how to follow orders! The Gate teams are my responsibility. You two fucknuts got into a shouting match during the training exercise! What are you gonna do when faced with a patrol of Wraith - shout at them or tell them they can’t cull your team because you got your feelings hurt?”
Rodney had never heard Sheppard talk like that. He couldn’t blame him though. Adams and Harper had indeed gotten into a shouting match during a live fire exercise. The two of them had only shut up when Sheppard had Major Lorne stun them.
“You both barely passed the mandatory qualifications on the gun range. You can’t stay quiet worth a damn. Neither of you can do a simple door override in under five minutes without a technical manual and a fuckin’ nursemaid! You can’t even remember even half of what goes in your tac vest! I’m sure your teammates will enjoy bleeding to death because it was more important for you to bring a damn Nintendo than field bandages and QuikClot!”
There came the sound of Velcro fasteners being opened and items being dumped on a table.
“Let’s see... what doesn’t belong here….hair gel, mp3 players, cell phones, breath spray, rock collecting guide, game cartridges, and…a folding umbrella. Are you trying to laugh the Wraith to death? This is not a daytrip to fuckin’ Disneyland! Because you both had to carry this…junk, you neglected things that could save your lives; such as ammo, multi-tool, cable connectors, bandages, batteries - oh, no, wait, you had those for the Nintendo! You also don’t have an emergency blanket, flashlight, canteen, water purification tablets, Tylenol, or many other things that could save you or a teammate!”
Disdain dripped from Sheppard’s voice. Without even seeing his face, Rodney knew that the Colonel was giving them his best narrow-eyed glare. Listening to this ass-chewing, Rodney decided to let Sheppard handle it the next time one of his idiot scientists tried to kill him or blow up the city. He also considered letting Sheppard handle orientation for new scientists. Maybe if they knew that they would have to deal with a pissed off Colonel if they screwed up they would pay better attention.
“You are both reckless and show no regard for rules or lives other than your own. A Gate team is just that - a TEAM. You look out for each other. That is how you make it back alive. Neither of you carry the Ancient gene - what are you going to do if you’re attacked while your team’s gene carrier is busy trying to save your asses? What are you gonna do if you’re in a jumper that’s sinking due to a power fluctuation or a strange magnetic field that leaves you floating in space with three hours’ worth of air and help is six hours away? Heaven help you if your team has to fight their way back to the gate! Scientists are included on Gate teams to increase the chance of success of the mission, not to win beauty contests or gaming tournaments!
Sheppard took a deep breath and looked at the two scientists seated before him. “You wanted me to reconsider my decision. Well, here is my decision - it’s not ‘no’, it’s ‘HELL NO’! Now get out of my office before I shoot you both!”
John locked his knees and closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose to keep his burgeoning headache at bay. Gah, he hated idiots and idiots like those two would get others killed while it would never be their fault it happened.
Rodney saw the two scientists pick up their stuff and scurry out. He waited a few moments before he stepped out of the storage room where he had been observing from. He grabbed a bottle of water and the bottle of Tylenol that Sheppard kept in his desk. Crossing to his friend, he shook three of the pills out and uncapped the water. “Here, take these. If you don’t have a headache, you will.”
John looked up and opened his eyes. Rodney was right - the headache was already pounding. “Thanks.” He swallowed the tablets and took a long swallow of water before sitting down at his desk and putting his feet up and head back, eyes closed to let the pills work. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough, although I missed the whining at the beginning. Have you been taking lessons from the Marine sergeants?”
John shook his head slightly. “No, just channeled my inner bastard. I tried to be patient, tried to explain that the things in those vests are there for a reason, but all they could do was whine about how bored they would get waiting for rescue, and that it wasn’t their job to protect their team. The first time they picked up guns, you’d have thought the guns were dipped in dog shit. That’s why they scored so low - they wouldn’t hold their guns properly. Even without the fight, I wouldn’t have cleared them for Gate teams - their teams would have killed them. I can just imagine writing those letters - ‘Dear Mrs. Harper, it is my regret to inform you that your son was killed by his teammates because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut while sneaking around in enemy territory’ or, even better - ‘Mr. and Mrs. Adams, it is my regret to inform you that your son bled to death while on a training mission because his Nintendo DS was more important than the bandages that would have saved his life’.”
John scrubbed his face with one hand. “I just got so damn tired of their whining that I let ‘em have it with both barrels. I meant every word, though. I am not going to apologize either, and neither are you.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “As if. Those two only got here because of their dissertations for their Masters’ degrees. I don’t know why we need a software design engineer and a graphics designer anyway. Those are too specialized to be useful here. They have three months, and if I don’t see some worthy production out of them, I’m going to ship them back to Earth so fast that the ink won’t be dry before they get there.”
John stood up. “Good. Let’s go eat. I hear that they have real cheeseburgers today and a fresh shipment of Doritos and Cokes.”
The weekly battalion meeting was one of John’s favorite activities. After the general briefing, he went team by team, having each relate any unusual occurrences. This allowed the Gate teams and the Security Officers to share experiences in an open forum. This had come in handy, especially with native customs. The meeting focused on the things that would not make it into the official reports. John had encouraged the teams to enter these experiences into the city database, but there was still so much they didn’t know.
John noticed when some of the attendees started sweating and fanning themselves. He thought the temperature was alright, but did seem to be getting stuffy. Taking a bite of his second cookie, he frowned. The cookies had an odd taste. Making a note to tell the cooks not to use that recipe again, he focused on the team currently giving a report. Finishing the cookie in his hand, he grabbed another bottle of water and downed half of it, but it did little to counteract the dryness in his throat.
All at once, several persons slid to the floor. Several more tried to stand to check on those, but found themselves dizzy and stumbling. Looking around the room, John noticed other people shaking with tremors or sweating buckets. Some still seemed unaffected, but John knew that wouldn’t last. He didn’t feel all that great himself. Using his connection to the city, John locked down the area under quarantine.
Carson Beckett was not superstitious, but he regretted remarking that it was a quiet day. None of the Gate teams were off-world and he had an easy day planned.
Until the quarantine alarm sounded.
“Control, this is Beckett. What’s happening?”
Elizabeth’s voice sounded strained. “We don’t know. It’s not a full quarantine. It was initiated in Section G5.”
G5 - Military country, also known as grunt country by the Marines in residence. G5 where the Colonel held the weekly meetings for the Gate teams, which were all in residence right now.
“Who initiated the quarantine, cause it was na me.”
Elizabeth’s silence told him. “It was Colonel Sheppard.”
Just then a hoarse voice broke in. “Car…son.”
“Aye, Colonel. What’s going on there? I need to know.”
“Something hit all of us. Symptoms are…dizziness, dry…throat…sweating, chills…nausea…tremors.”
Carson could hear the pain and effort it took the Colonel to tell him that. He mentally added pain and shortness of breath to the list.
“Did everyone seem okay when the meeting started?”
“Yeah.” Carson could hear Sheppard wheezing. “Halfway through, I noticed… everyone was... drinking water real hard. I thought it was to wash…the taste from the…cookies away. Then everyone started gettin’ sick.”
“Okay, Colonel. We are on our way.”
Carson heard a breathy chuckle. “Not goin’ annywhre doc.” If John was slurring his words, Carson knew it definitely wasn’t good.
The sight that greeted Carson in the assembly hall was one of his worst nightmares. There were people sprawled everywhere. The odor of vomit was strong in the room, even through the HAZMAT suit’s filters. Some were moving, but many of those stricken were not. Turning to his staff, Carson started issuing orders.
“Triage first, get symptoms and a blood sample. Split into teams and see to those not moving first. Find out what they ate or drank recently. We need to find the source.”
Carson had practically every member of his staff with him. They had created quite a stir stampeding through the halls.
“Elizabeth, I’m going to need extra personnel, volunteers preferably. Suit them up and send them in. I’m also gonna need every cot and spare blanket that you can scrounge. Hell, bring the mats out of the gym too.”
“Will do, Carson. Word is already going out. Housekeeping will bring the blankets. I’ve authorized them to raid quarters and relieve hoarders of extras as well.” There was a pause, then Elizabeth continued, “How is he?”
Carson shook his head even though she couldn’t see it. “I dinna know, lass. I have na found him yet, but I’ll let ye know when I do.”
Carson scanned the room. He knew John was sick, he just didn’t know how bad. Knowing how tasty he was to some of the viruses here in Pegasus because of his genetic cocktail, Carson figured he’d better check on him first. As his eyes passed over the platform that sat at one end of the room, something drew his attention back. Moving closer, he spotted a black clad leg behind a podium. There were times when Carson cursed John for choosing black as his garrison uniform color, but there were times he was grateful as well because it made his friend easy to spot and this was one of those times.
As he headed for John, Carson noticed that there were teams moving through the chairs, carrying people over to the doctors and nurses that had set up along the walls. Those still moving or not as sick were either sitting where they could be supervised or helping the teams shuttling patients.
Reaching John, Carson realized that, whatever it was, the Colonel had it bad. His breathing was shallow, but his pulse was racing. John was sweating, but cold at the same time. His body was acting as though he’d been poisoned. He tapped John’s cheek to try and rouse the lanky pilot. “C’mon, lad. Open your eyes for me.” Carson badgered him until a small groan met his efforts. “That’s it, lad. I want to see those hazel peepers of yours.”
“Mmmm…C’rson.” John cracked his eyes open just enough to see the doctor kneeling beside him.
“Good lad. How’re ye feelin’?”
“Like crap. Headache, chills, dizzy… was sick earlier… after I called you. Feel like… had ‘nother run in…with that…misofurtidia stuff.”
Carson thought about it. “Mysofoetidia fungus?”
John started to nod and thought better. “That stuff. Feels the same…down to the aftertaste… in my mouth.”
“Aye, you’re probably right, but I’m gonna run a blood test anyway. What did you eat today?”
John closed his eyes and Carson thought he zoned out then John answered, his deep voice soft. “Oatmeal for breakfast, an apple, a power bar… and two cookies from the tray over on the table.”
“Okay.” Carson reached for his sample kit when John turned green. Carson quickly rolled him over as the pilot started retching. Carson was alarmed at what came out. Instead of the weak bile he had expected, the vomit was thicker and green. Carson grabbed a sample cup and scooped some of the stuff up as John rolled back over.
“Here lad, rinse out.” Carson handed John a small cup of diluted mouthwash. “I’d give ye some water, but I think that may be part of the problem.”
Carson gathered a blood sample and the specimen jar and stood, stepped over and grabbed some of the cookies Sheppard had mentioned before walking over and stepping outside the assembly hall. Waving one of the volunteers over - a young Marine that had been on duty in the Gateroom. “Take these to the infirmary. Give it to Kaitlyn, the head lab tech. Tell ‘er whose it is an’ have ‘er put a rush on it.”
The Marine looked at the name on the samples and almost saluted. “Sir!”
Walking back inside as the Marine took off, Carson summoned one person from each of the teams and told them of his suspicions. “I think we have a poisoning here. Colonel Sheppard says it feels like the time he was slipped Mysofoetidia fungus and I think he may be right. I sent samples to the lab. Until we find out, only give the patients small sips of water. Encourage vomiting whenever possible cause I think the stuff was dried and is reconstituting in their stomachs.” Several of the staff looked as green as John had at that thought. “I don’t want the stuff getting into the bloodstream any more than it already is. Expect cramps, nausea, tremors, fever and blurred vision. Get the worst on oxygen to help their breathing.” So saying, he grabbed one of the portable oxygen canisters and an IV stand and headed back to John.
Carson fitted a nasal cannula to the tank as he crossed the floor. Reaching Sheppard’s side, Carson fitted the cannula to his nose and turned the oxygen on. Sheppard’s breathing eased almost immediately. He knew Sheppard was out when he didn’t object as Carson got an IV started and reached into his med case and pulled out a mild painkiller. As he was loading a syringe, Sheppard’s eyes flickered open. “Ah, lad, back with me I see.”
“Mmmhmm. Wha’s goin’ on?”
“I think you’re right about the fungus. I got an IV stated for ye and an oxygen line. I’m gonna give ye a little somthin’ for the pain, and don’t argue with me. I remember how this stuff hit you last time. I had to put ye in isolation for two days ‘til the migraine went away so I’m tryin’ to keep it at a manageable level this time.”
“It’s already headed there, Doc.”
“Well, lad, this will help keep that migraine away. I’ll get ye somthin’ stronger after I get the tests back.” Carson smiled at his sick friend. “Rest. I’m gonna get a cot for ye and some blankets.”
John gave a slight nod and closed his eyes. “And a bucket.”
Carson nodded. “Aye, lad, one o’ those too.” He stood and headed for the area where the cots and other items were. Someone had foreseen the need and brought in not only small buckets, but also can liners and some of the big metal shipping containers on wheels. Carson had just thrown a pair of blankets and a handful of can liners into a bucket when he spotted two familiar figures coming through the doors. “Rodney, Radek, what are ye doin’ here?”
Rodney, outfitted in a surgical mask and gloves, answered for the pair. “We came to see how Sheppard is? I presume he’s sick.”
Radek, similarly kitted out, nodded. “Yes, yes. Came to check on Colonel.”
Carson smiled. That these two were some of John’s closest friends was still amazing, but Carson knew that these two never underestimated the Colonel’s intelligence. Carson had seen many eyes glaze over during meetings, but Sheppard, for all of his laid-back manner, unobtrusively followed the two scientists, even injecting comments occasionally. “Well, I’m glad to see ye both. He is sick, an’ I need someone to stay with him. Grab one o’ those cots an’ come with me.” The two scientists picked up one of the folding cot and followed Carson.
When they reached Sheppard’s side, Carson noticed that he had been sick again and that the Colonel had rolled over and was curled up tight. That meant he was having cramps and was cold. Carson quickly directed his helpers to set up the cot in front of the platform. It would make moving around less hazardous. As Rodney and Radek unfolded the cot, Carson checked on John. He was sweating profusely and definitely chilled; fine tremors dancing along his arms. Carson took a damp towel and wiped him down before calling Rodney and Radek to assist.
“Rodney, Radek, I need th’ two o’ ye up here.” The two scientists stepped onto the platform, both letting out gasps of dismay at Sheppard’s condition. “Rodney, I’ll need ye to pick up his feet. Radek, you mind the IV pole and the oxygen tank. We’re going to move him to the cot. Lyin’ on this floor isn’t helpin’ the poor lad any.” Carson rolled the sick pilot over as the two scientists moved into position with Rodney wrapping his hands around Sheppard’s ankles while Radek grabbed the O2 tank and IV pole. Carson slid his hands under John’s armpits, lifting at the shoulders. As they moved Sheppard, Carson was reminded that the man was deceptively heavy. John had a frame like a swimmer or a runner - all dense, lean muscle; which wasn’t surprising since the lad loved to swim and did a lot of running, not all of it by choice. If any of the military contingent ever started getting fat, he was going to ask the Colonel to assign them to his team or Lorne’s for about six weeks. That would work anybody’s weight down - it certainly had Rodney’s.
Fortunately there were no mishaps getting the sick Colonel settled. As soon as they laid him down, Rodney grabbed the blankets and tucked them around his friend. Radek grabbed the bucket and placed it where Sheppard could easily reach it. Carson blinked at the efficiency of the two men and smiled.
“Alright Carson, what’s wrong with them? Did someone spike the punchbowl?”
Carson shook his head. “No, but we think they spiked the cookies. The Colonel thinks Mysofoetidia fungus was used, and I think he’s right. Everyone in this city loves fresh baked treats, so if you wanted a large group of people to get sick, that would do it.”
Radek looked around. “Who would be idiot enough to make entire military sick? If attack came, all they could do would be throw up on enemy.”
Rodney looked around at the sick Marines and Airmen. “Idiots…What if that,” and Rodney waved his hand at the rest of the room, “was a cover-up for getting one person sick?” Snapping his fingers, Rodney ran out of the room, coming back a few minutes later with two laptops - his and Zelenka’s. “Radek, check the sensor logs - see if anyone has been in the vicinity of D8, section 6.”
Zelenka powered his laptop up. “You think this was aimed at making Colonel sick?”
Tapping furiously, Rodney nodded. “Yes, I do, and if my hunch is correct…there, gotcha!” Rodney reached down and grabbed a scanner from his bag. “Ah, hah. You just couldn’t resist, could you?”
Zelenka finished his search. “Other than patrols, only two persons have been in that area. It was…”
Rodney turned his computer around. “Was it these two?” At Radek’s nod, Rodney looked up at Carson. “How do you feel about inept poisoners?”
Carson’s expression darkened. “I think they should be given the same thing they gave their victims. I know I took an Oath, but I despise poisoners. You think these two poisoned Colonel Sheppard?”
Rodney nodded. “I do and I know why.” Rodney filled the pair in.
Just as he finished, the Marine that Carson had sent to the infirmary with Sheppard’s samples came back, a tablet in hand. “From Nurse Kaitlyn, sir.”
Carson looked at the reports on the tablet before looking up at his helpers. “The Colonel was right - it is Mysofoetidia fungus, and it was both in and on the cookies.” Waving the young Marine, Cpl. Tanner, over, Carson gave some orders. “Corporal, I need for you to gather up all of those cookies into a trash container - make sure you get every crumb and don’t eat any, they’re the cause of this. After that, I need you to get Lt Davies for me. I need to know where there cookies came from and who was in the kitchen at the time.”
Cpl. Tanner saluted. “Yes, Sir” and hurried off to do Beckett’s bidding after glancing down at his sick CO.
At that moment, Sheppard roused and started gagging. Rodney quickly rolled him over and Radek moved the bucket and held it as Sheppard coughed up more green vomit although Carson noticed it wasn’t as thick. When he was done, Rodney wiped his face off and tucked the blankets back.
“Rodney, Radek? Wha’ are… you doin’ here?” Sheppard was looking at his friends curiously through half-open eyes.
“It should be obvious - taking care of you. We are friends and Carson needed help.” Rodney huffed. “Look, I know you feel crappy, but I need you to talk to Atlantis. Get her to lock D5, level 8, room B23.”
John rolled over and put his hand on the floor. Normally, he could communicate easily with the city, but with the way he felt he needed the extra contact. “’S done. Now why?”
Rodney smiled and turned his laptop to face Sheppard. “That’s where your poisoners are holed up. “
When John focused on the image on the screen, his body language changed from sick and drowsy to highly pissed in an instant. He pushed the blankets back and swung his feet off the cot faster than the trio could react. He had the IV and oxygen disconnected and was staggering towards the door before Rodney or Carson moved. Surprisingly, it was Radek that beat Sheppard to the door.
“Colonel, stop. You are sick and need rest.” The diminutive Czech was doing his best to impede Sheppard’s path.
“Sorry, Radek.” Sheppard sidestepped him. “I have some idiots to exterminate.”
Radek’s blockade gave Rodney time to catch up. “You are not going anywhere. You can barely stand and I’m not gonna pick your skinny carcass up when you pass out halfway there. Let them stew in their own juices awhile.”
Carson hustled up, placing a hand on Sheppard’s shoulder. “Aye, lad. Rodney an’ Radek are right. Ye need to lie down before ye fall. The longer they wait, the more worried they’ll be.”
Radek nodded. “Those two…they probably think just mechanical failure and wait for rescue. Let them stay there…talk to city…make miserable.”
Sheppard reached and wiped his sweaty face. “Yeah, I can…do that.” He stared into the distance for a moment as he talked to Atlantis. “Those two idiots are in for a rough 24 hours. She’s gonna give them hell.”
Carson applied pressure to Sheppard’s shoulder. “Come on, lad. Let’s get ye back to bed.”
John turned, and with the trio as escort, headed back to his cot. Halfway there, his knees gave out. Carson and Rodney had been expecting it and caught him. They each grabbed an arm and dragged the lanky pilot to his cot. Radek picked up his feet and the three men put their friend back to bed. McKay took charge of Sheppard’s .45 while Carson hooked the oxygen and IV back up and Radek replaced the blankets.
With the IV re-established, Carson turned to the results Cpl. Tanner had delivered. He reached up and pulled off the hood to the HAZMAT suit, taking a breath of fresh air. “The Colonel was right, it was mysofoetidia fungus. Kaitlyn is making a batch of the counteragent as we speak.”
Noticing that Carson had removed the hood to his suit, others of his staff did the same. At that moment, Lt. Davies walked up, escorted by Cpl. Tanner.
“Doctor, the Corporal here said you wanted to speak to me.” Davies stated as she stopped.
Carson unzipped the rest of his suit. “Aye. Who made the cookies that were served as refreshments for this meeting?”
Lt Davies pulled out her PDA. “Sgt Chavez, sir. Said it was her mother’s recipe.”
Carson held up one of the offending cookies. “Is this one of her cookies?”
Davies shook her head. “No, Trina made oatmeal cookies. These are not hers.”
“Was anyone else in the kitchen? Someone that normally shouldn’t be there?”
Davies looked thoughtful. “Hmmm, not sure. I can find out.” She tapped her radio. “Chavez, when you made the cookies for the Colonel, was there anyone else in the kitchen?” She was silent for a moment as she listened. “Oh, really? A special movie event for the science department? Thanks, that’s very helpful.” She turned to her audience. “Trina said that two scientists came in while she was baking the cookies and made some for a special event.”
Rodney, Radek and Carson looked at each other. “Did she know their names?”
Davies shook her head. “No, but she said she would recognize them. The cookies smelled awful and they didn’t clean up good.”
Just then, Sgt Trina Chavez walked up. “What’s this about my cookies?” Carson held up the offender. “That is not mine. I made oatmeal for the Colonel because I knew he would be running the meeting. I always make them when he runs the briefings.” When Rodney turned his laptop around and showed her pictures of the suspects, she nodded. “That is them. Lousy putain insisted on making their cookies themselves and left my kitchen a mess.” She glanced down at the occupant of the cot between the three men. Sheppard was huddled up tight under the blankets, eyes closed; his left hand, pale face and the top of his spiky hair the only parts visible. “Will the Colonel be okay?”
Carson nodded. “Aye. He’ll nae be happy for a few days, but he’ll recover.”
Chavez nodded. “Good. Let me know when he’s feeling better and I’ll make some more oatmeal cookies to celebrate.” With that she nodded to Davies and headed back to the kitchen.
“Rodney.”
A weak, breathy voice caught their attention.
“What, Sheppard?”
“Is their video feed still active?”
Rodney was startled. “How did you…? Never mind, yes, why?”
John cracked his eyes open a bit. “I want you to access the military server. Find the file labeled ‘20050131’ and loop it for them.”
As Rodney typed, Radek watched over his shoulder. “Oh, my…that is the…”
Sheppard gave a tiny nod. “Yes it is. Block their controls to the viewscreen. I want anything they say or do in that room recorded. Secure it under my password. Keep…” He would have said more, but was interrupted by another coughing fit. Carson lifted him up and Radek steadied the bucket again as Sheppard’s stomach rid itself of more of the reconstituted fungus. Carson rubbed the Colonel’s back as he retched. After he was done, Carson gave him more of the diluted mouthwash then washed his face.
Rodney glanced at Sheppard. “You want me to have someone keep an eye on them in case one of them becomes sick, but otherwise they are to be incommunicado?”
John nodded, eyes closed. “Yeah. God, this sucks.”
Carson rubbed his back some more. “Aye, I know, but the counteragent will be here soon. Get some rest if you can.”
“Mmmm.” The Colonel’s reply was soft as he slid into an uneasy sleep.
Screw ups
Title: Screw Ups
Author: Amycat8733
Rating: T for language
Pairing(s): none, just friendships
Characters: Sheppard , Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, Dr Zelenka, Carson, Dr Weir
Warning(s): harsh language, somewhat graphic illness
Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or its locales. I only swim in the pool.
Length: 7,206 words (for both parts)
Summary: When two idiots poison Atlantis' military, it's up to Rodney, Radek and Carson to care for Sheppard and find the evidence to pin the guilty parties. Shep whump.
AN - this takes place season three after The Return. No spoilers, just mention of The Storm.
Screw ups
“No, absolutely not! You need to learn how to follow orders! The Gate teams are my responsibility. You two fucknuts got into a shouting match during the training exercise! What are you gonna do when faced with a patrol of Wraith - shout at them or tell them they can’t cull your team because you got your feelings hurt?”
Rodney had never heard Sheppard talk like that. He couldn’t blame him though. Adams and Harper had indeed gotten into a shouting match during a live fire exercise. The two of them had only shut up when Sheppard had Major Lorne stun them.
“You both barely passed the mandatory qualifications on the gun range. You can’t stay quiet worth a damn. Neither of you can do a simple door override in under five minutes without a technical manual and a fuckin’ nursemaid! You can’t even remember even half of what goes in your tac vest! I’m sure your teammates will enjoy bleeding to death because it was more important for you to bring a damn Nintendo than field bandages and QuikClot!”
There came the sound of Velcro fasteners being opened and items being dumped on a table.
“Let’s see... what doesn’t belong here….hair gel, mp3 players, cell phones, breath spray, rock collecting guide, game cartridges, and…a folding umbrella. Are you trying to laugh the Wraith to death? This is not a daytrip to fuckin’ Disneyland! Because you both had to carry this…junk, you neglected things that could save your lives; such as ammo, multi-tool, cable connectors, bandages, batteries - oh, no, wait, you had those for the Nintendo! You also don’t have an emergency blanket, flashlight, canteen, water purification tablets, Tylenol, or many other things that could save you or a teammate!”
Disdain dripped from Sheppard’s voice. Without even seeing his face, Rodney knew that the Colonel was giving them his best narrow-eyed glare. Listening to this ass-chewing, Rodney decided to let Sheppard handle it the next time one of his idiot scientists tried to kill him or blow up the city. He also considered letting Sheppard handle orientation for new scientists. Maybe if they knew that they would have to deal with a pissed off Colonel if they screwed up they would pay better attention.
“You are both reckless and show no regard for rules or lives other than your own. A Gate team is just that - a TEAM. You look out for each other. That is how you make it back alive. Neither of you carry the Ancient gene - what are you going to do if you’re attacked while your team’s gene carrier is busy trying to save your asses? What are you gonna do if you’re in a jumper that’s sinking due to a power fluctuation or a strange magnetic field that leaves you floating in space with three hours’ worth of air and help is six hours away? Heaven help you if your team has to fight their way back to the gate! Scientists are included on Gate teams to increase the chance of success of the mission, not to win beauty contests or gaming tournaments!
Sheppard took a deep breath and looked at the two scientists seated before him. “You wanted me to reconsider my decision. Well, here is my decision - it’s not ‘no’, it’s ‘HELL NO’! Now get out of my office before I shoot you both!”
John locked his knees and closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose to keep his burgeoning headache at bay. Gah, he hated idiots and idiots like those two would get others killed while it would never be their fault it happened.
Rodney saw the two scientists pick up their stuff and scurry out. He waited a few moments before he stepped out of the storage room where he had been observing from. He grabbed a bottle of water and the bottle of Tylenol that Sheppard kept in his desk. Crossing to his friend, he shook three of the pills out and uncapped the water. “Here, take these. If you don’t have a headache, you will.”
John looked up and opened his eyes. Rodney was right - the headache was already pounding. “Thanks.” He swallowed the tablets and took a long swallow of water before sitting down at his desk and putting his feet up and head back, eyes closed to let the pills work. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough, although I missed the whining at the beginning. Have you been taking lessons from the Marine sergeants?”
John shook his head slightly. “No, just channeled my inner bastard. I tried to be patient, tried to explain that the things in those vests are there for a reason, but all they could do was whine about how bored they would get waiting for rescue, and that it wasn’t their job to protect their team. The first time they picked up guns, you’d have thought the guns were dipped in dog shit. That’s why they scored so low - they wouldn’t hold their guns properly. Even without the fight, I wouldn’t have cleared them for Gate teams - their teams would have killed them. I can just imagine writing those letters - ‘Dear Mrs. Harper, it is my regret to inform you that your son was killed by his teammates because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut while sneaking around in enemy territory’ or, even better - ‘Mr. and Mrs. Adams, it is my regret to inform you that your son bled to death while on a training mission because his Nintendo DS was more important than the bandages that would have saved his life’.”
John scrubbed his face with one hand. “I just got so damn tired of their whining that I let ‘em have it with both barrels. I meant every word, though. I am not going to apologize either, and neither are you.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “As if. Those two only got here because of their dissertations for their Masters’ degrees. I don’t know why we need a software design engineer and a graphics designer anyway. Those are too specialized to be useful here. They have three months, and if I don’t see some worthy production out of them, I’m going to ship them back to Earth so fast that the ink won’t be dry before they get there.”
John stood up. “Good. Let’s go eat. I hear that they have real cheeseburgers today and a fresh shipment of Doritos and Cokes.”
The weekly battalion meeting was one of John’s favorite activities. After the general briefing, he went team by team, having each relate any unusual occurrences. This allowed the Gate teams and the Security Officers to share experiences in an open forum. This had come in handy, especially with native customs. The meeting focused on the things that would not make it into the official reports. John had encouraged the teams to enter these experiences into the city database, but there was still so much they didn’t know.
John noticed when some of the attendees started sweating and fanning themselves. He thought the temperature was alright, but did seem to be getting stuffy. Taking a bite of his second cookie, he frowned. The cookies had an odd taste. Making a note to tell the cooks not to use that recipe again, he focused on the team currently giving a report. Finishing the cookie in his hand, he grabbed another bottle of water and downed half of it, but it did little to counteract the dryness in his throat.
All at once, several persons slid to the floor. Several more tried to stand to check on those, but found themselves dizzy and stumbling. Looking around the room, John noticed other people shaking with tremors or sweating buckets. Some still seemed unaffected, but John knew that wouldn’t last. He didn’t feel all that great himself. Using his connection to the city, John locked down the area under quarantine.
Carson Beckett was not superstitious, but he regretted remarking that it was a quiet day. None of the Gate teams were off-world and he had an easy day planned.
Until the quarantine alarm sounded.
“Control, this is Beckett. What’s happening?”
Elizabeth’s voice sounded strained. “We don’t know. It’s not a full quarantine. It was initiated in Section G5.”
G5 - Military country, also known as grunt country by the Marines in residence. G5 where the Colonel held the weekly meetings for the Gate teams, which were all in residence right now.
“Who initiated the quarantine, cause it was na me.”
Elizabeth’s silence told him. “It was Colonel Sheppard.”
Just then a hoarse voice broke in. “Car…son.”
“Aye, Colonel. What’s going on there? I need to know.”
“Something hit all of us. Symptoms are…dizziness, dry…throat…sweating, chills…nausea…tremors.”
Carson could hear the pain and effort it took the Colonel to tell him that. He mentally added pain and shortness of breath to the list.
“Did everyone seem okay when the meeting started?”
“Yeah.” Carson could hear Sheppard wheezing. “Halfway through, I noticed… everyone was... drinking water real hard. I thought it was to wash…the taste from the…cookies away. Then everyone started gettin’ sick.”
“Okay, Colonel. We are on our way.”
Carson heard a breathy chuckle. “Not goin’ annywhre doc.” If John was slurring his words, Carson knew it definitely wasn’t good.
The sight that greeted Carson in the assembly hall was one of his worst nightmares. There were people sprawled everywhere. The odor of vomit was strong in the room, even through the HAZMAT suit’s filters. Some were moving, but many of those stricken were not. Turning to his staff, Carson started issuing orders.
“Triage first, get symptoms and a blood sample. Split into teams and see to those not moving first. Find out what they ate or drank recently. We need to find the source.”
Carson had practically every member of his staff with him. They had created quite a stir stampeding through the halls.
“Elizabeth, I’m going to need extra personnel, volunteers preferably. Suit them up and send them in. I’m also gonna need every cot and spare blanket that you can scrounge. Hell, bring the mats out of the gym too.”
“Will do, Carson. Word is already going out. Housekeeping will bring the blankets. I’ve authorized them to raid quarters and relieve hoarders of extras as well.” There was a pause, then Elizabeth continued, “How is he?”
Carson shook his head even though she couldn’t see it. “I dinna know, lass. I have na found him yet, but I’ll let ye know when I do.”
Carson scanned the room. He knew John was sick, he just didn’t know how bad. Knowing how tasty he was to some of the viruses here in Pegasus because of his genetic cocktail, Carson figured he’d better check on him first. As his eyes passed over the platform that sat at one end of the room, something drew his attention back. Moving closer, he spotted a black clad leg behind a podium. There were times when Carson cursed John for choosing black as his garrison uniform color, but there were times he was grateful as well because it made his friend easy to spot and this was one of those times.
As he headed for John, Carson noticed that there were teams moving through the chairs, carrying people over to the doctors and nurses that had set up along the walls. Those still moving or not as sick were either sitting where they could be supervised or helping the teams shuttling patients.
Reaching John, Carson realized that, whatever it was, the Colonel had it bad. His breathing was shallow, but his pulse was racing. John was sweating, but cold at the same time. His body was acting as though he’d been poisoned. He tapped John’s cheek to try and rouse the lanky pilot. “C’mon, lad. Open your eyes for me.” Carson badgered him until a small groan met his efforts. “That’s it, lad. I want to see those hazel peepers of yours.”
“Mmmm…C’rson.” John cracked his eyes open just enough to see the doctor kneeling beside him.
“Good lad. How’re ye feelin’?”
“Like crap. Headache, chills, dizzy… was sick earlier… after I called you. Feel like… had ‘nother run in…with that…misofurtidia stuff.”
Carson thought about it. “Mysofoetidia fungus?”
John started to nod and thought better. “That stuff. Feels the same…down to the aftertaste… in my mouth.”
“Aye, you’re probably right, but I’m gonna run a blood test anyway. What did you eat today?”
John closed his eyes and Carson thought he zoned out then John answered, his deep voice soft. “Oatmeal for breakfast, an apple, a power bar… and two cookies from the tray over on the table.”
“Okay.” Carson reached for his sample kit when John turned green. Carson quickly rolled him over as the pilot started retching. Carson was alarmed at what came out. Instead of the weak bile he had expected, the vomit was thicker and green. Carson grabbed a sample cup and scooped some of the stuff up as John rolled back over.
“Here lad, rinse out.” Carson handed John a small cup of diluted mouthwash. “I’d give ye some water, but I think that may be part of the problem.”
Carson gathered a blood sample and the specimen jar and stood, stepped over and grabbed some of the cookies Sheppard had mentioned before walking over and stepping outside the assembly hall. Waving one of the volunteers over - a young Marine that had been on duty in the Gateroom. “Take these to the infirmary. Give it to Kaitlyn, the head lab tech. Tell ‘er whose it is an’ have ‘er put a rush on it.”
The Marine looked at the name on the samples and almost saluted. “Sir!”
Walking back inside as the Marine took off, Carson summoned one person from each of the teams and told them of his suspicions. “I think we have a poisoning here. Colonel Sheppard says it feels like the time he was slipped Mysofoetidia fungus and I think he may be right. I sent samples to the lab. Until we find out, only give the patients small sips of water. Encourage vomiting whenever possible cause I think the stuff was dried and is reconstituting in their stomachs.” Several of the staff looked as green as John had at that thought. “I don’t want the stuff getting into the bloodstream any more than it already is. Expect cramps, nausea, tremors, fever and blurred vision. Get the worst on oxygen to help their breathing.” So saying, he grabbed one of the portable oxygen canisters and an IV stand and headed back to John.
Carson fitted a nasal cannula to the tank as he crossed the floor. Reaching Sheppard’s side, Carson fitted the cannula to his nose and turned the oxygen on. Sheppard’s breathing eased almost immediately. He knew Sheppard was out when he didn’t object as Carson got an IV started and reached into his med case and pulled out a mild painkiller. As he was loading a syringe, Sheppard’s eyes flickered open. “Ah, lad, back with me I see.”
“Mmmhmm. Wha’s goin’ on?”
“I think you’re right about the fungus. I got an IV stated for ye and an oxygen line. I’m gonna give ye a little somthin’ for the pain, and don’t argue with me. I remember how this stuff hit you last time. I had to put ye in isolation for two days ‘til the migraine went away so I’m tryin’ to keep it at a manageable level this time.”
“It’s already headed there, Doc.”
“Well, lad, this will help keep that migraine away. I’ll get ye somthin’ stronger after I get the tests back.” Carson smiled at his sick friend. “Rest. I’m gonna get a cot for ye and some blankets.”
John gave a slight nod and closed his eyes. “And a bucket.”
Carson nodded. “Aye, lad, one o’ those too.” He stood and headed for the area where the cots and other items were. Someone had foreseen the need and brought in not only small buckets, but also can liners and some of the big metal shipping containers on wheels. Carson had just thrown a pair of blankets and a handful of can liners into a bucket when he spotted two familiar figures coming through the doors. “Rodney, Radek, what are ye doin’ here?”
Rodney, outfitted in a surgical mask and gloves, answered for the pair. “We came to see how Sheppard is? I presume he’s sick.”
Radek, similarly kitted out, nodded. “Yes, yes. Came to check on Colonel.”
Carson smiled. That these two were some of John’s closest friends was still amazing, but Carson knew that these two never underestimated the Colonel’s intelligence. Carson had seen many eyes glaze over during meetings, but Sheppard, for all of his laid-back manner, unobtrusively followed the two scientists, even injecting comments occasionally. “Well, I’m glad to see ye both. He is sick, an’ I need someone to stay with him. Grab one o’ those cots an’ come with me.” The two scientists picked up one of the folding cot and followed Carson.
When they reached Sheppard’s side, Carson noticed that he had been sick again and that the Colonel had rolled over and was curled up tight. That meant he was having cramps and was cold. Carson quickly directed his helpers to set up the cot in front of the platform. It would make moving around less hazardous. As Rodney and Radek unfolded the cot, Carson checked on John. He was sweating profusely and definitely chilled; fine tremors dancing along his arms. Carson took a damp towel and wiped him down before calling Rodney and Radek to assist.
“Rodney, Radek, I need th’ two o’ ye up here.” The two scientists stepped onto the platform, both letting out gasps of dismay at Sheppard’s condition. “Rodney, I’ll need ye to pick up his feet. Radek, you mind the IV pole and the oxygen tank. We’re going to move him to the cot. Lyin’ on this floor isn’t helpin’ the poor lad any.” Carson rolled the sick pilot over as the two scientists moved into position with Rodney wrapping his hands around Sheppard’s ankles while Radek grabbed the O2 tank and IV pole. Carson slid his hands under John’s armpits, lifting at the shoulders. As they moved Sheppard, Carson was reminded that the man was deceptively heavy. John had a frame like a swimmer or a runner - all dense, lean muscle; which wasn’t surprising since the lad loved to swim and did a lot of running, not all of it by choice. If any of the military contingent ever started getting fat, he was going to ask the Colonel to assign them to his team or Lorne’s for about six weeks. That would work anybody’s weight down - it certainly had Rodney’s.
Fortunately there were no mishaps getting the sick Colonel settled. As soon as they laid him down, Rodney grabbed the blankets and tucked them around his friend. Radek grabbed the bucket and placed it where Sheppard could easily reach it. Carson blinked at the efficiency of the two men and smiled.
“Alright Carson, what’s wrong with them? Did someone spike the punchbowl?”
Carson shook his head. “No, but we think they spiked the cookies. The Colonel thinks Mysofoetidia fungus was used, and I think he’s right. Everyone in this city loves fresh baked treats, so if you wanted a large group of people to get sick, that would do it.”
Radek looked around. “Who would be idiot enough to make entire military sick? If attack came, all they could do would be throw up on enemy.”
Rodney looked around at the sick Marines and Airmen. “Idiots…What if that,” and Rodney waved his hand at the rest of the room, “was a cover-up for getting one person sick?” Snapping his fingers, Rodney ran out of the room, coming back a few minutes later with two laptops - his and Zelenka’s. “Radek, check the sensor logs - see if anyone has been in the vicinity of D8, section 6.”
Zelenka powered his laptop up. “You think this was aimed at making Colonel sick?”
Tapping furiously, Rodney nodded. “Yes, I do, and if my hunch is correct…there, gotcha!” Rodney reached down and grabbed a scanner from his bag. “Ah, hah. You just couldn’t resist, could you?”
Zelenka finished his search. “Other than patrols, only two persons have been in that area. It was…”
Rodney turned his computer around. “Was it these two?” At Radek’s nod, Rodney looked up at Carson. “How do you feel about inept poisoners?”
Carson’s expression darkened. “I think they should be given the same thing they gave their victims. I know I took an Oath, but I despise poisoners. You think these two poisoned Colonel Sheppard?”
Rodney nodded. “I do and I know why.” Rodney filled the pair in.
Just as he finished, the Marine that Carson had sent to the infirmary with Sheppard’s samples came back, a tablet in hand. “From Nurse Kaitlyn, sir.”
Carson looked at the reports on the tablet before looking up at his helpers. “The Colonel was right - it is Mysofoetidia fungus, and it was both in and on the cookies.” Waving the young Marine, Cpl. Tanner, over, Carson gave some orders. “Corporal, I need for you to gather up all of those cookies into a trash container - make sure you get every crumb and don’t eat any, they’re the cause of this. After that, I need you to get Lt Davies for me. I need to know where there cookies came from and who was in the kitchen at the time.”
Cpl. Tanner saluted. “Yes, Sir” and hurried off to do Beckett’s bidding after glancing down at his sick CO.
At that moment, Sheppard roused and started gagging. Rodney quickly rolled him over and Radek moved the bucket and held it as Sheppard coughed up more green vomit although Carson noticed it wasn’t as thick. When he was done, Rodney wiped his face off and tucked the blankets back.
“Rodney, Radek? Wha’ are… you doin’ here?” Sheppard was looking at his friends curiously through half-open eyes.
“It should be obvious - taking care of you. We are friends and Carson needed help.” Rodney huffed. “Look, I know you feel crappy, but I need you to talk to Atlantis. Get her to lock D5, level 8, room B23.”
John rolled over and put his hand on the floor. Normally, he could communicate easily with the city, but with the way he felt he needed the extra contact. “’S done. Now why?”
Rodney smiled and turned his laptop to face Sheppard. “That’s where your poisoners are holed up. “
When John focused on the image on the screen, his body language changed from sick and drowsy to highly pissed in an instant. He pushed the blankets back and swung his feet off the cot faster than the trio could react. He had the IV and oxygen disconnected and was staggering towards the door before Rodney or Carson moved. Surprisingly, it was Radek that beat Sheppard to the door.
“Colonel, stop. You are sick and need rest.” The diminutive Czech was doing his best to impede Sheppard’s path.
“Sorry, Radek.” Sheppard sidestepped him. “I have some idiots to exterminate.”
Radek’s blockade gave Rodney time to catch up. “You are not going anywhere. You can barely stand and I’m not gonna pick your skinny carcass up when you pass out halfway there. Let them stew in their own juices awhile.”
Carson hustled up, placing a hand on Sheppard’s shoulder. “Aye, lad. Rodney an’ Radek are right. Ye need to lie down before ye fall. The longer they wait, the more worried they’ll be.”
Radek nodded. “Those two…they probably think just mechanical failure and wait for rescue. Let them stay there…talk to city…make miserable.”
Sheppard reached and wiped his sweaty face. “Yeah, I can…do that.” He stared into the distance for a moment as he talked to Atlantis. “Those two idiots are in for a rough 24 hours. She’s gonna give them hell.”
Carson applied pressure to Sheppard’s shoulder. “Come on, lad. Let’s get ye back to bed.”
John turned, and with the trio as escort, headed back to his cot. Halfway there, his knees gave out. Carson and Rodney had been expecting it and caught him. They each grabbed an arm and dragged the lanky pilot to his cot. Radek picked up his feet and the three men put their friend back to bed. McKay took charge of Sheppard’s .45 while Carson hooked the oxygen and IV back up and Radek replaced the blankets.
With the IV re-established, Carson turned to the results Cpl. Tanner had delivered. He reached up and pulled off the hood to the HAZMAT suit, taking a breath of fresh air. “The Colonel was right, it was mysofoetidia fungus. Kaitlyn is making a batch of the counteragent as we speak.”
Noticing that Carson had removed the hood to his suit, others of his staff did the same. At that moment, Lt. Davies walked up, escorted by Cpl. Tanner.
“Doctor, the Corporal here said you wanted to speak to me.” Davies stated as she stopped.
Carson unzipped the rest of his suit. “Aye. Who made the cookies that were served as refreshments for this meeting?”
Lt Davies pulled out her PDA. “Sgt Chavez, sir. Said it was her mother’s recipe.”
Carson held up one of the offending cookies. “Is this one of her cookies?”
Davies shook her head. “No, Trina made oatmeal cookies. These are not hers.”
“Was anyone else in the kitchen? Someone that normally shouldn’t be there?”
Davies looked thoughtful. “Hmmm, not sure. I can find out.” She tapped her radio. “Chavez, when you made the cookies for the Colonel, was there anyone else in the kitchen?” She was silent for a moment as she listened. “Oh, really? A special movie event for the science department? Thanks, that’s very helpful.” She turned to her audience. “Trina said that two scientists came in while she was baking the cookies and made some for a special event.”
Rodney, Radek and Carson looked at each other. “Did she know their names?”
Davies shook her head. “No, but she said she would recognize them. The cookies smelled awful and they didn’t clean up good.”
Just then, Sgt Trina Chavez walked up. “What’s this about my cookies?” Carson held up the offender. “That is not mine. I made oatmeal for the Colonel because I knew he would be running the meeting. I always make them when he runs the briefings.” When Rodney turned his laptop around and showed her pictures of the suspects, she nodded. “That is them. Lousy putain insisted on making their cookies themselves and left my kitchen a mess.” She glanced down at the occupant of the cot between the three men. Sheppard was huddled up tight under the blankets, eyes closed; his left hand, pale face and the top of his spiky hair the only parts visible. “Will the Colonel be okay?”
Carson nodded. “Aye. He’ll nae be happy for a few days, but he’ll recover.”
Chavez nodded. “Good. Let me know when he’s feeling better and I’ll make some more oatmeal cookies to celebrate.” With that she nodded to Davies and headed back to the kitchen.
“Rodney.”
A weak, breathy voice caught their attention.
“What, Sheppard?”
“Is their video feed still active?”
Rodney was startled. “How did you…? Never mind, yes, why?”
John cracked his eyes open a bit. “I want you to access the military server. Find the file labeled ‘20050131’ and loop it for them.”
As Rodney typed, Radek watched over his shoulder. “Oh, my…that is the…”
Sheppard gave a tiny nod. “Yes it is. Block their controls to the viewscreen. I want anything they say or do in that room recorded. Secure it under my password. Keep…” He would have said more, but was interrupted by another coughing fit. Carson lifted him up and Radek steadied the bucket again as Sheppard’s stomach rid itself of more of the reconstituted fungus. Carson rubbed the Colonel’s back as he retched. After he was done, Carson gave him more of the diluted mouthwash then washed his face.
Rodney glanced at Sheppard. “You want me to have someone keep an eye on them in case one of them becomes sick, but otherwise they are to be incommunicado?”
John nodded, eyes closed. “Yeah. God, this sucks.”
Carson rubbed his back some more. “Aye, I know, but the counteragent will be here soon. Get some rest if you can.”
“Mmmm.” The Colonel’s reply was soft as he slid into an uneasy sleep.