“Sounds like a plan.”
“Okay. Hold on.” She pushed the supply case into the wormhole then returned to the MALP. “Package is on its way. Did you get those tissue samples from the autopsy?”
“Yeah. The team’s started working on them already.”
“Make sure you put aside a separate batch of viral cultures. We’ll need them for when we’ve got a prototype vaccine.”
“When?”
said Bill, after a short silence. Then he sighed.
“Okay.”
Janet looked around, but there was nobody nearby. “I have to say
when
, Bill. I can’t let it be
if
. Things are bad here. They should’ve had a doctor from the start. Hell, they should’ve had an entire medical team. Talk about a wing and a prayer, this set-up is
crazy
. I don’t see how — ” She stopped, breathing hard.
Stay positive. Stay positive
. “Have you got that sample case yet?”
“Yeah,” said Bill. “It’s just co
ming up to the control
room now.”
“Good. So send me that equipment ASAP, will you? We have to get started, Bill. These people don’t have much more time.”
“I hear you. We’re on it, Janet. You’re not alone in this,
okay?”
With the wormhole disengaged, she stared at the empty Stargate ring.
They don’t have much more time… and neither do I.
After three years in the SGC she wasn’t the doctor she used to be, that was for sure. Her skills had expanded far beyond their original parameters. Working with Linnea to cure the people of Vyus of the strange phenomenon called ‘the vorlix’ had opened up a new world of medicine to her. With Bill Warner and their people as back-up she could do things that once she’d considered the sacred province of research scientists and biochemists.
I can do this. I can. God help me, I have to.
Jack took one look at her out of the Hazmat suit, sat up on his camp bed and launched into a blistering tirade. She stood there and took it. What choice did she have?
He is so pissed at me he doesn’t know what to do with it.
Of course, she was pretty pissed at him too.
Because hey. Disobeyed a few orders yourself y’know, Jack.
But he was too sick to keep it up for long. After a couple of minutes he ran out of breath and invective and had to content himself with glaring.
“I’m sorry you’re unhappy,” she said quietly, once she was sure he was done. “And I take exception to the idea that I’m trying to be a hero. We both know that’s not my style. I made the best choice for my patients.”
“And the worst choice for yourself!” he retorted, wheezing. “Janet — ”
“Colonel, I’m on a massive anti-viral cocktail, plus prophylactic antibiotics. My general health is excellent. I’m confident — ”
Liar, liar
— “that I’ll be fine. Now you have to stay
calm. Your condition may have stabilized, but that could change
if you’re not careful.”
He grimaced, and with difficulty lay down again. “You call this stabilized? I’ve got enough fluid in my chest to sink the Titanic, I can’t sit upright for more than five minutes at a time, I can’t walk more than ten feet without falling down — ”
“I know,” she said. “You’re sick. But you’re not getting worse.” She bit her lip.
Time to give him the bad news
. “Jack, I’m moving Sam into the women’s ICU tent.”
He stared at her, unblinking, then shifted his gaze to Sam, so still, so silent, so
absent
. “Is that really necessary?”
He wasn’t questioning her medical judgment, she knew that. He was just afraid.
Which makes two of us. This is the sickest Sam’s been in her w
hole life. If I can’t save her…
“She needs closer monitoring,” she said. “She needs oxygen and — ”
“
Oxygen
?”
“As a precaution. Jack, she needs a catheter. She needs her privacy.”
“Yeah,” he said, after a moment. “Yeah. Okay.”
“I’ll have Teal’c and Colonel Dixon come get her. Stay put,” she said, sternly. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
But when she returned, Teal’c and Dixon in tow, of course he was off his camp bed and on the stool beside Sam, holding her hand and talking to her.
“ — out of this, Carter. We didn’t survive Antarctica, and Apophis’s invasion, and you getting Goa’ulded, and — and that damned black hole and — ” He stopped. “We didn’t survive all that,” he continued after a moment, his voice unsteady, “and the rest of it, for you to get taken down by some damned snakehead virus. Okay?”
Sam wasn’t comatose. Not yet. Her eyes were open, and she was looking at Jack. “Okay.” She sounded frail. Insubstantial. “Whatever you say, sir.”
Crooking a finger at Teal’c and Dixon, Janet led them across the tent. “Hey, Sam, you’re awake,” she said brightly.
Bedside rule #1: Always keep your game face on
. “That’s great.”
Jack let go of Sam’s hand and retreated to his own camp bed. Sat down again and started picking at the scabs on his wrist, pretending he wasn’t terrified and furious and lost.
“Janet?” said Sam, in that horrible faint whisper. “Why aren’t
you wearing your Hazmat suit?”
“It’s at the drycleaners,” she said. “So, Sam, I’m thinking you’re about ready for a change of scenery.”
“We’re going home?”
Oh God
. “Not quite yet,” she said, keeping her voice steady with an effort. She started unhooking Sam’s i/v lines. “But you’re due for a respite from this pit of testosterone. I’m transferring you to one of the women’s tents.”
“Oh,” said Sam. Her eyes drifted closed. She had so very little stamina. “Okay, Janet.”
With the i/v lines safely discarded she nodded to Teal’c and Dixon. “Gently,” she warned. “Take it nice and slow.”
As they lifted the camp bed she retreated to the tent flap and held it wide for them. Slowly, carefully, they carried Sam out. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” she told them, and turned back to Jack.
“How’s it going with Teal’c?” he said. He had himself in hand. If she didn’t know him so well she’d think he was indifferent to Sam’s plight.
“Too early to tell,” she replied. “Bill Warner and I are about to start running tandem tests on the symbiote’s blood. We’ll know more in a day or so.”
He rested his head in his hands. “A day or so,” he echoed. “Does Carter have that long? Do any of us?”
She needed to catch up with the guys, and Sam. But Jack needed her too.
Everyone needs me. Where’s a good cloning machine when you need one
? “No-one’s giving up, Colonel. Everyone’s fighting.”
“Yeah.” He looked up at her, his eyes cynical. “If you ever get sick of medical emergencies you should think about running for Congress.”
“Lie down,” she advised him. “Rest. I’ll be back in a while to take your next blood sample and give you a nice multi-vitamin shot.”
He grunted, and assumed the horizontal. She pulled a blanket over him, let her hand rest briefly on his head, then left him to sleep.
As she made her way back to the ICU tent where Sam was waiting, Daniel caught up with her. “We’ve got four more sick,” he said bluntly. “Three kids, one adult. They’re in the triage tent.”
When would it end? “Take a history. Get their vitals. Record their baseline status on film for the database. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Daniel nodded but didn’t change direction. He still hadn’t succumbed, but he looked ill with exhaustion. “You’ve moved Sam?”
“Yes. Daniel — ”
“Sorry. Okay,” he said, then nodded in the direction of a distant smoke column. “Lotar’s funeral.”
She felt a pang. “How’s Bhuiku?”
“Sad, but holding it together. I wanted to stay with him until she — until it was over, but — ”
Too much work to do here. That was one of the worst things about a crisis: so many small human decencies had to be curtailed. The big picture took precedence, the small moments got lost.
“Most of the villagers who aren’t sick or on duty are with him, though,” Daniel added. “He’s not alone.”
“Good. Anything else?”
“No,” he said, and broke off to follow orders.
The streets of Georgetown were quiet. The long day was drawing to a close. Villagers not rostered on for work duty or standing with Bhuiku had retreated to their tents, families seeking strength and solace in family. Thank God it was the dry season. She didn’t want to think what this place would be like if they had to cope with pouring rain on top of everything else.
At least we’re holdin
g it together, sanitation-wise.
Like the latrines, they’d sited the incinerators at the furthest edge of the village. They burned pretty well round the clock, reducing medical waste and all the other detritus of camp life to smoke and ash. The air of Georgetown held a permanent gritty after-taste.
And now it’ll be worse. There’s nothing quite as awful as the stench of a burning human body. And Lotar’s won’t be the last
.
There were three other female patients in the women’s ICU tent. Two of them were fading fast. One of them was Bhuiku’s mother.
Poor boy. First his wife and next his mother.
After a quick check on their status she got Sam settled in and hooked up to more i/vs, an oxygen tank and a catheter. When that was done, and Sam was sleeping again, she joined Daniel in the triage tent and got the four new patients sorted out. Then, her belly rumbling, she went in search of food.
“Hey,” said Colonel Dixon as she entered the mess tent, and patted the table beside his plate. “Take a load off, Doc.”
It was still early, so the tent was barely a quarter full. She nodded and smiled at the villagers who were already eating, and they smiled shyly back at her. One of them was Bhuiku, come from his wife’s funeral. He seemed to be doing okay, all things considered.
She carried her tray of meat loaf and mashed potato over to the colonel and sat down. Gave him a quick once-over look, now that she wasn’t thinking of ten other things at the same time.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Don’t know why, seeing as I don’t have a symbiote or a sarcophagus in my past, but…” He shrugged. “It’s against my religion to look gift horses in the mouth.”
She smiled. “Mine too.”
He poked his fork into his own mashed potato. “Sam looks rough.”
“She’s hanging in there.”
Dixon pushed his plate away. “I’m real glad you’re here, Doc. I know I was mad. I still am, I guess. But I’m glad, too. We needed you.”
“I know.”
“This thing with Teal’c. Is it the real deal? Can it save us?”
She kept her eyes on the meat loaf. “Colonel Dixon — ”
“Sorry,” he said, and shook his head. “I should know better than to ask.” He checked his watch. “Nearly time for rounds again. How’s O’Neill doing?”
“He’s stable,” she said, looking up. “Teal’c told me he’s stepped down for the duration. Put you in charge.”
“Yeah.”
“You okay with that?”
He shrugged. “Does it matter if I’m not?”
“I think it matters,” she said, carefully. “It just can’t be allowed to make a difference. If that makes sense.”
His smile was brief. “You sound like Frank. Colonel Cromwell. The guy who — ”
“Yes, sir. I remember Colonel Cromwell.” But with events overtaking them, avalanche-like, she’d pushed aside Dixon’s connection and the memories it stirred. She took a moment to eat some dinner before it went completely cold. To think about whether she should say something or preserve a discreet silence.
What the hell.
“That was a bad business all round,” she said. “I understand you and the colonel were good friends. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” said Dixon, after a moment. “You weren’t there, when he died.”
“No. I was topside.”
Dixon picked up his knife and started threading it through his fingers. “One of the closest calls the SGC’s ever had.”
“Yes,” she said, and shivered. A year and more later, it still brought up the hair on the back of her neck. “Too close.”
“But you’re still here,” he said, and put the knife down. “You still support the program.”
“Yes.”
He sat back. Looked around at the scattering of villagers. “And will you go on supporting it when this is over?”
She’d lost her appetite. After pushing the plate aside she folded her arms on the trestle table. “Yes, Colonel. I will. Because despite the bad times, despite the close calls, what we do is important.”
He almost smiled, then. “Saving Earth. The galaxy.”
“From the Goa’uld?” She nodded. “That’s the plan.”
He reached for his mug, took a sip from it. Swallowed. “O’Neill said the two of you are friends.”
“Yes,” she said, suddenly cautious.