What
? He could’ve hit the man. “So there’s a
burning
sensation? Jesus, O’Neill — ”
“
Dixon
!”
“I’m
fine
.” For now. Oh hell.
Lainie
. “But you’re not. You should wait here. Jackson and I can come back for you with a cart.”
“No.”
“If you’re sick you shouldn’t be expending energy walking!”
“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised what it takes to stop me walking.”
Dixon felt his fingers clench into fists. “Yeah, yeah, I know all about your parachute adventure. I know all about a lot of things and frankly, Colonel, I don’t give a damn. You’ve got nothing to prove. This isn’t Iraq.”
O’Neill’s eyes went blank. “Screw you.”
Yeah. Okay. Wrong thing to say. “Jack — ”
“We don’t have time to futz around with carts,” O’Neill said, his voice cold and flat. “We need to get back to the village and make sure Carter and Daniel are okay, then find Teal’c so he can fill us in.”
They did. “Then let’s go.”
Once they made it across the river they took the long way round the outskirts of Mennufer, avoiding contact with any of the villagers. They both tried raising the rest of the team on their radios, but silence was the only reply.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” said Dixon. “Could be the batteries ran flat.”
O’Neill glared at him sidelong. More pustules had erupted on his face. “All of them? Simultaneously?” Then he faltered, stopped, and threw up. There was blood. “I’m okay,” he said, spitting.
Dixon shook his head.
Yeah. Sure you
are. Code Red protocols? Oh man, we’re so screwed.
Ignoring O’Neill’s protests, he slung an arm around the man’s shoulders and they kept going. By the time they reached the retreat O’Neill’s walk had degenerated into a stagger. He was almost out on his feet.
They made it into the building, barely. The first thing Dixon saw was Jackson, cross-legged on the floor beside Carter. She was layered in a sleeping bag, curled in on herself and unnaturally still.
“Oh no,” said Jackson, scrambling to his feet.
Dixon lowered O’Neill onto the nearest palliasse. “Oh, yes. But I’m okay. What about you?”
Behind the glasses Jackson’s eyes were wide and fearful. “I’m fine. It’s Sam. Something’s really wrong.”
“You’re telling me.” He took a moment to catch his breath and let his heart rate steady. “Jackson — ”
“Colonel, do you think you could get Jack some water? He needs antibiotics.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He needed fluids himself. Filling his canteen from the water barrel beside the door he heard Jackson talking to O’Neill.
“Hey, Jack. Um — you should lie down. You don’t look too hot.”
“I’m fine,” was O’Neill’s broken-record reply. Then: “Crap. Is that Carter?”
“Yeah.” Jackson sounded apologetic, as though somehow this was his fault. “She’s got a really bad fever.”
“Tell her to stand in line.”
Dixon quenched his own thirst then took the sloshing canteen inside and handed it to O’Neill. “Here. Drink.”
With a grunt — was that thanks? — O’Neill swallowed. Took the pills Jackson handed him and swallowed again. “Daniel,” he said, letting the canteen drop. “Why didn’t you answer your radio? The SGC was calling.”
“What?” Jackson pulled a face. “Oh. Sorry. When I couldn’t raise either of you I turned it off to save the battery. What do you mean the SGC was calling? How — ”
“They rigged a UAV with a transmitter. You didn’t hear it? Jesus.” O’Neill pressed his knuckles against his temples, hard, then lowered his hands. “Where’s Teal’c? Is he back yet?”
“Teal’c? No. Jack — ”
“Lotar’s sick,” said Dixon, as O’Neill started coughing. “Teal’c found her at the gate. I guess O’Neill and Carter have caught — ”
“No,” said Jackson. “It’s more than that. It’s rebirth.”
Still wheezing, O’Neill lifted his head. Whatever fluid filled the blisters was now tinged with blood. “
What
?”
“I don’t know what it means,” said Jackson. “Now that you’re back, I’ll find out. Jack — please. Lie down.”
O’Neill’s eyes looked like glass. “Yeah. Okay.”
Which said more about his condition than a battery of medical tests.
Dixon helped Jackson ease O’Neill onto his sleeping bag. Standing back, then, arms folded across his chest, his stark gaze shifting between O’Neill and Carter, Jackson said, “We have to get them to the SGC.”
Dixon shook his head. “We can’t. Code Red medical protocols are in place. We’re stuck here for as long as this lasts.”
“What?” said Jackson faintly. “No. That’s not right. We can’t be. Jack and Sam are really
sick
.”
And I’ve got a pregnant wife, you think I want to stay?
“Sorry,” he said. “We’re on our own.”
“But — but — ” Jackson looked shell-shocked. “Whatever happened to ‘leave no man behind’?”
Jesus wept, was he really that naïve? Where had he been for the last three years? “You’re the expert on myths, Doctor Jackson. You work it out.”
And then the retreat door swung open, and Teal’c came in. He looked… exhausted. Soaked in sweat, full of fear.
A Jaffa afraid. Now there’s a sight to give you nightmares
.
“Daniel Jackson,” said Teal’c, his gaze fixed to O’Neill. “You are not sick?”
“No. Jack is. And Sam.”
Teal’c’s gaze shifted to Carter, then lifted. “Colonel Dixon?”
He shook his head. “So far so good. Where’s Lotar?”
“I have left her in the woods, well beyond the village,” said Teal’c. “Doctor Fraiser’s orders. Daniel Jackson — ”
“Yeah, I know, Teal’c,” said Jackson. “We’re really screwed.”
Hammond dug the tips of his thumbs into the corners of his eyes and pressed, hoping to short-circuit the headache rapidly building up steam in his temples.
God almighty, why can’t we catch one simple lousy break?
Across the desk from him Marcel Zola shuffled the pages of his report. “So basically, General,” he concluded, “this is the most superior naquadah anyone’s ever seen. .02 percent impurities which is, well, unheard of. I don’t want to get too technical on you, but — ”
“Then don’t, Doctor,” he said, lowering his hands and staring at the physicist. “I’m not in the mood. Bottom line, what you’re saying is that we need this naquadah.”
Zola nodded vigorously, his enthusiasm uncontainable. “Oh, sir. Yes, sir.”
He nodded at the bundle of papers crumbled in Zola’s excitable grip. “How layman-friendly is that report?”
“Layman-friendly?” echoed Zola. “Ah — well — ”
Scientists. They were all alike. The longer he worked around them the more sympathy he developed for Jack’s unkind opin
ions. “Doctor, I need a report for the Pentagon that won’t require
a scientific dictionary to decode. You’ve got thirty minutes.”
Zola boggled at him. “Half an hour?”
“I suggest you get started.”
As Zola scuttled out of his office, his internal phone rang. It was Harriman.
“Second UAV’s away sir. You said you wanted — ”
“I’ll be right there, Sergeant.”
Harriman was monitoring the radio frequencies while Captain Raismith remote-piloted the UAV. As he entered the control room, Harriman glanced round. “Nearly in range, sir.”
His heart was thumping.
Let there be good news, let my people be unscathed.
“Good.”
“Sir, we’ve modified the second signal booster,” added Raismith. “I’m confident we’ll be able to punch through the local interference this time.”
“Glad to hear it. But we can’t keep sending through UAVs, Captain. Not when there’s currently no way of getting them back again. There has to be a way of establishing permanent radio communications with SG-1.”
“Sir, the communications team is working on that now,” said Raismith, not looking away from the UAV control-console. “Our best bet appears to be a naquadah-powered transmitter, which we’d leave
in situ
at the Adjo gate.”
“And how soon before we have ourselves one of those?”
“Well, sir,” said Raismith, pulling a face. “Donnelly and McLaren are still inventing it, so…”
He raised an eyebrow. “Tell them they might like to hurry up.”
“Yes, sir,” said Raismith.
Then something electronic beeped, and Harriman hit a switch. “SG-1, this is the SGC. Do you read?”
“
SGC, this is Di
xon. Reading you loud and clear. Go ahead
.”
Hammond took over the mike. “Colonel, this is General Hammond. What is your status?”
“Sir, our status would be that we’re up crap creek without a functional paddle. O’Neill’s sick. Carter’s sick. It’s got somethi
ng to do with the planet, but don’t ask me what.”
“Page Doctor Fraiser up here now,” he said, looking at Harriman, then turned back to the mike. “What about you, Colonel? And Doctor Jackson?”
“So far, sir, we’re right as rain. I can’t explain it, but we’re
not showing any symptoms
.”
“That’s good news, Colonel. Let’s hope you both stay that way.”
“
Sir, we really need an immediate medical evacuation.
”
He had to wait for a moment, to be certain his voice remained cool, calm and steady. “I’m afraid that’s not possible at the moment, Colonel.”
“
Then what do you advise we do, General? Whatever this thing is, it sure ain’t the common cold
.”
“Sir,” said Janet Fraiser, behind him. “If I may?”
He hadn’t heard her come in. Turning, he considered her. Beneath the professional exterior, closer to its surface than he’d ever wanted to see, he saw fear. He felt the answering surge in his own blood, the slick of cold sweat.
“Of course,” he said, and stood back.
“Colonel Dixon, this is Fraiser,” she said. “Has Teal’c made it back to you yet?”
“
Yeah, he’s here
.”
“I’d like to speak with him, please.”
A moment’s hissing silence, then: “
This is Teal’c
.”
“What’s Lotar’s status, Teal’c?”
“
When last I saw her she was deeply unconscious.”
“You left her well outside the village?”
“
As instructed, yes
.”
“Okay. Whatever you do, Teal’c, don’t move her any closer and don’t let anyone from the village near her.”
Well, that didn’t sound good. Alarmed, Hammond stared at Fraiser but her full focus was on Teal’c.
“
Doctor Fraiser, have you bee
n able to ascertain the cause of Lotar’s illness
?”
Fraiser hesitated. “Not yet, Teal’c. I’m still working on that.”
Hammond felt Sergeant Harriman’s alarmed look, but he didn’t respond. The doctor was… prevaricating. Not a good sign at all.
“
Doctor Fraiser
, we must treat Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter
.”
“I know, Teal’c. But to do that I need blood and skin swabs from each of them.”
Another stretch of silence. “
Doctor Fraiser
,” Teal’c said at last, “
I lack the medical equipment to take such samples. You se
nt me only enough to take samples from Lotar.
”
“Hold on,” said Fraiser, and turned away. “General, this is an impossible situation. I’d have to send more collection kits through the Stargate, Teal’c would have to retrieve them, return to the village, take the samples, go back to the Adjo gate… sir, it’s just not practical. Not to mention that even Teal’c’s stamina has limits.”
He sighed. “What do you suggest?”
“Well, in the short term I’d like to establish a small MASH unit at the Adjo gate. Tents, camp beds, food, water, medical supplies. That way SG-1 can relocate, communications won’t be a problem, and I’ll have some hope of effectively treating casualties. It’s far from perfect but for the moment it’s the best I can do.”
A MASH unit? Well, it made sense. He nodded. “Do it.”
Her smile was genuine, but guarded. Oh God, she had bad news for him. “Yes, sir,” she said. “General, I think we need to recall the offworld teams until this situation is under control. One medical crisis at a time is more than sufficient.”
“Agreed. Sergeant Harriman’s got the duty roster, he’ll take care of that.”
“Yes, sir. General — ”
He felt his heart sink. Felt the weight of his fifty-eight years settle onto his shoulders. “Doctor?”
“We need to talk.”
“I’ll be in my office,” he told her. “See me when you’re done here.”
“Yes, sir.”
When at last Fraiser tapped on his door he was at his desk, re-reading Zola’s report on the Adjoan naquadah, trying to tell himself his dark suspicions were nothing more than paranoia.
“Doctor,” he said, as she closed the door behind her. “Everything under control?”