Casualties of War

by Elizabeth Christensen

"All right. Over here." Carson steered Radek over to the Ancient-designed full-body scanner and gestured for him to hop up on the bed. Once the scientist was settled, the machine began mapping him from head to toe. It wasn't long before Carson had enough data to be troubled.

  He reached for his earpiece to call the control room. "As soon as all three of them are available, please have Dr. Weir, Colonel Sheppard, and Dr. McKay meet me in the infirmary. There's a potential new development they need to be aware of."

  The image that greeted Rodney upon entering the infirmary was one of Radek and Wen, sitting on neighboring beds and being attended with far more solicitousness than Carson normally showed Rodney. "I'm afraid I'll need to keep you under observation for a while longer," the doctor was telling them. "Anything I can get you to help pass the time?"

  With a wounded-puppy look-oh, give me a break, Rodney resisted saying-Radek asked, "Perhaps one of your mother's scones?"

  Carson's gaze sharpened. "Don't push your luck."

  "What's going on?" Rodney demanded. "Is something wrong with them? And where'd you two hide the adarite?"

  Radek rolled his eyes. "Stop. Your heartwarming concern may cause me to weep."

  "Well, you're evidently not dying, so excuse me for showing a little pragmatism." A beat later, Rodney glanced at Carson. Couldn't hurt to confirm it, considering the situation. "They're not, right?"

  "No, Rodney, I'm fairly sure they'll be fine." Carson paused as the doors opened to admit Elizabeth and, a few strides behind, Sheppard. Both looked like the weight on their shoulders was getting to them. Rodney avoided the Colonel's gaze. Their discussion in the control room still bothered him, for reasons he didn't care to examine.

  "What do you need to show us, Carson?" Elizabeth asked, her professional demeanor firmly in place.

  "Nothing good, I'm afraid. It appears there may be some side effects caused by exposure to adarite."

  "Side effects?" Sheppard's eyebrows climbed. "From a rock?"

  "An exceptionally energetic rock," Rodney clarified, already occupied with a cursory self-exam. He'd had contact with the adarite sample. His breathing seemed all right; pulse was a little elevated-

  "Relax, Rodney." Carson had noticed his surreptitious checks, or at least his understandable anxiety. "If you feel all right, you are all right. We believe the symptoms are temporary after such a short exposure."

  "I'll consider relaxing after you tell me what kind of symptoms you're referring to," Rodney snapped.

  "Neurological. Specifically, cognitive deficits." Carson crossed the room to a wall-mounted screen, which displayed a multicolored cross-section of a human brain. "The scanner works a bit like a magnetic resonance machine would on Earth. Among other things, it measures the blood flow and electrical activity in various regions of the brain. These are the hippocampus regions, which control the storage of memories." He pointed to the sides of the image, indicating two groups of bright red and orange splotches. "Here you see a typical level of activity. Neural pathways are being formed, creating memories. Now contrast that with this scan of Radek from this afternoon."

  Another image appeared on the screen next to the first. The corresponding areas on the second image were darker, the warm colors replaced by a scattering of blue and green. The sight worried the hell out of Rodney. "I thought you said they were going to be fine! That looks like incremental brain death!"

  "It's already beginning to resolve itself," replied Carson, unperturbed.

  "Yes," Radek interjected. "For instance, I recall being denied baked goods a few minutes ago."

  Elizabeth's forehead wrinkled in confusion.

  "Not to worry-that's a perfectly rational statement." Carson sent Radek an exasperated look before continuing. "I've yet to isolate the specific cause, but it appears that some property of adarite inhibits the transition of information from short-term to long-term memory. I'm no manner of neurologist, so I'll need to read up on a few issues. The effects, though, remind me of some older case studies from medical school on electroconvulsive therapy."

  "Shock treatment?" Sheppard asked. "That screwed with memory?"

  "I've been told that ECT patients often lost a fair amount of time surrounding their sessions. In this case, the adarite may be emitting the equivalent of an electric charge. Not anywhere near as strong as an ECT treatment, I wouldn't think."

  Remembering the not-quite-electromagnetic interference he'd detected on the planet, Rodney wasn't so sure. "It's a different type of energy, so comparisons aren't worth much. For all we know, it may spike when the adarite is pressurized," he suggested. "Such as when a whip is powered up. Damn it, there's always a catch, isn't there?"

  "Carson, you said earlier that you thought a brief exposure wouldn't produce any lasting effects," said Elizabeth. "What about longer exposures?"

  The doctor shook his head. "I can't say without any experience. Some studies of extended ECT usage reported cases of permanent cognitive deficits."

  In two minutes, all Rodney's ideas for harnessing adarite power had gone up in smoke. He stood there, feeling like the rug had been yanked out from under him. Again. This galaxy had an infuriating habit of behaving like Lucy Van Pelt, taunting Charlie Brown with the football.

  Elizabeth, however, appeared to have something different on her mind. "Minister Galven mentioned many of the Nistra being in poor health. They're the ones who mine the adarite. For the last few generations, they've been trying to increase production, only to see their situation worsen. Is it possible the adarite is responsible?"

  "Although I'd need to examine one of them to confirm it, I think that's very likely," said Carson. "The last few generations, you say?"

  "That's right. The Nistra even moved their villages closer to the mining territory."

  "Which must have increased their exposure levels," Rodney realized. "Small wonder that their society is starting to disintegrate."

  Elizabeth pressed her lips together, considering the new development. "This will change the negotiations markedly," she said at last. "One of the main points of contention is the procurement of adarite. When both parties learn that they're fighting over something so harmful ...I can't begin to predict how they'll react."

  To say nothing of the fact that Atlantis no longer had much of an incentive to help out with these people's dis pute. Rodney stole a glance across the room, more concerned about the Colonel's reaction than those of the Falnori or Nistra. Sheppard had been counting on finding a weapon to use against the Asurans -more than Rodney deemed healthy, if the truth were told-and it had just been snatched out of his grasp.

  Sheppard's expression was still as determined as ever. "So how do we get around this?" he wanted to know.

  Carson blinked. "Get around it? I'm not sure I understand."

  "We need this stuff, Carson. There has to be a way to counteract whatever effect it has on the brain."

  As usual, Rodney was a few steps ahead of him. "Not without altering the energetic properties of the ore, I suspect. We'd lose most of the power we set out to utilize. And any shielding robust enough to block EM-type transmissions of that strength would be impossible to work within." He heaved a sigh. "Believe me, I'm as disappointed as you are."

  Normally, he would have labeled Sheppard as a pretty perceptive guy. Today the officer didn't seem to be taking the hint. "Then we limit exposure," he maintained, absently scratching his bandaged forearm. "Work in shifts, maybe. We can't just give up on the research."

  Carson hesitated. "I'm not sure that's wise-"

  "I'm very sure that's not wise," Rodney declared emphatically. "Did you miss the detail about unknown long-term effects to potentially include amnesia and cognitive impairment? What part of `I need all my brain cells intact' is unclear to you?"

  Immediately he found himself under the searing stare of an indomitable colonel. "Nothing about this is unclear to me, Rodney," Sheppard said in a low voice. "What do you suggest we throw at the Asurans when they show up to take Atlantis? This is our bes
t shot at finding a way to stop them. You said yourself that we've got nothing else."

  "I never said that I wouldn't keep looking, though! There has to be another approach. One that doesn't involve putting ourselves at risk."

  "Sometimes risks have to be taken when tailor-made solutions don't exist."

  "Do you honestly think you're the only one worried about our chances against the replicators from hell?" In an unusual flash of insight, Rodney realized he was angry at Sheppard-and why. "You don't even realize that you're running off the rails, do you? You're obsessed with this semi-mythical weapon that's going to solve all our problems, and it's wrecking your judgment."

  "You're going to lecture me about being obsessed?" Sheppard fired back. "After Doranda?"

  The remark sliced deep, all the more so because it was accurate. Rodney's hubris over Project Arcturus had been forgiven, he'd thought, but obviously not forgotten. "I'm in a unique position to recognize the signs, I think," he responded tightly. "You're so desperate to have an answer for the Asuran threat that you sent us into an unfamiliar location unarmed, and look how that turned out."

  He knew he'd struck a nerve when Sheppard's everpresent veneer of calm cracked and he turned sharply away.

  "Don't do this, either of you," Elizabeth said softly. "You're a team."

  "We're all that's left of a team." Sheppard stalked across the infirmary bay, radiating fury on an unprecedented level. The odd thing was, it didn't appear to be directed at Rodney or anyone else. It was real enough, though; Sheppard was nearly shaking with it. For a man who seemed to pride himself on keeping his cool, he looked dangerously close to letting control slip away.

  "You do what you think you have to do," he told Rodney, tension holding his frame taut. "But don't tell me how to do my job. You're not the one responsible for defending this city, and you're sure as hell not the one answering to the families of the Marines we keep shipping home in body bags."

  "And none of that alters the fact that some things in the universe are fixed constants, no matter how much righteous anger you summon!" Damn it, Rodney missed his teammates too, but he knew beyond all doubt that neither of them would have wanted this. "What do you want us to do here, Colonel? Tell me. Do you really want to try to build a weapon from something that will destroy our ability to remember why we need a weapon?"

  "Maybe I do! What if it's the best option we have? I don't know!" Sheppard yelled.

  There was a long silence, in which his wild-eyed frustration fell away, leaving only agonized helplessness in its wake. Rodney had never seen such emotion from Sheppard before, and it shook him. A new possibility arose: maybe the Colonel's anger had been aimed more at himself than anyone else.

  "I just don't know," Sheppard repeated quietly.

  Rodney knew, because he felt it as well, and he could see that the realization was going to hit Sheppard sooner rather than later. What they wanted, as impossible as it might be, was for Ronon and Teyla to have died for something.

  Defeated, Sheppard pivoted on his heel and left the infirmary, punctuating his exit by slamming his open hand into the wall.

  The surreal silence hung in the air after he'd gone. Elizabeth stared at the door, clearly at a loss. She looked back at Rodney with a plea in her eyes. "Rodney, there has to be something more we can do to study the adarite before we give up on it."

  A few minutes ago, Rodney would have rejected the concept just on principle. Now, after seeing his team leader come close to unraveling in front of him, his perspective had shifted. "I...yes. There are a few tests we can still run with the sample contained in the shielded chamber."

  "Aye. I'll help," Carson murmured.

  In all likelihood, they'd end up in exactly the same place after those tests as before, but they'd run them anyway. After everything the expedition had weathered, it couldn't be pulled apart by something like this. Rodney was almost sure of it.

  John had been walking for ten minutes before it occurred to him to wonder where he was going. The biting wind that assaulted him as soon as he stepped out onto the lower southwest pier was fitting. He needed to confront and be confronted.

  "What the hell do you expect me to do?" he shouted into the rolling waves. He didn't rationally anticipate an answer, but then again there had been an Ancient lurking around in their city systems not too long ago. Angels in the architecture. He snorted in contempt. An angel would have helped them, rather than stood idly by as those apathetic Ascended always did. Sometimes he was almost ashamed of his genetic inheritance.

  Or maybe he was just ashamed, period. What had he done today? What had he tried to do? Rodney was right about the disaster on 418. The safety of the off-world team had been his responsibility, and he'd let it slide because he'd just had to know what was in that facility. He'd dropped his guard, and Ronon and Teyla had paid for it.

  Then he'd been so determined to give their sacrifices meaning that he'd all but ordered the science team to fry their own brains. God, what was wrong with him?

  His teammates had died for nothing more than a failed mission. Two people whom he'd brought to the team, who'd stayed because they trusted him. Every week another Marine came back hurt or worse-from the Asurans, from the Wraith, from skittish natives with damned spears. No matter what he did, it kept happening, in the same old ways, and in new and terrible ways. Maybe it was unavoidable.

  Or maybe his fitness to command really was eroding one casualty at a time.

  He didn't know what he was doing out here. He never had. Leadership had fallen to him because of rank at first, and he'd kept it solely because no one else had any further or better experience than he did. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that such flimsy reasons weren't nearly good enough. Not when so many lives depended on making the right choices.

  A wave crashed against the pier, sending saltwater spray high into the air. John turned and went back inside. The chill followed him through the corridors and into his quarters.

  "Target fixation, my man," he could hear Captain Holland saying in that Midwestern drawl. One more ghost from one more choice that had failed. "Happens to the best of `em. You just gotta step back and figure out what's best for the mission. "

  Sitting down at his desk, he opened the drawer and noticed the envelope still waiting inside, marked with Ford's cousin's name. He hesitated for a moment, but found that it only solidified his resolve.

  Holland. Sumner. Ford. Ronon. Teyla. They were at the top, but the list went on and on.

  John refused to add any more names to it.

  He reached past the envelope for a pad of paper and a pen. Somehow a computer word-processing program didn't have the appropriate gravity for a letter of resignation.

  CHAPTER NINE

  he heard the birdsong first, a low-pitched, melodic chatter not unlike that of the canyon gulls on Athos. Gradually she became aware of other sensations: a cool breeze across her face, a trace of moisture in the air, and pain.

  Teyla stirred minutely, halting when the motion roused an insistent ache at her temple. A hand closed around her shoulder, and she forced her eyes open. Once her sight became focused, she found a concerned Satedan looming over her.

  "You okay?" he asked.

  "I-believe so." Aside from the vicious pounding in her head, a few cuts and scrapes appeared to be her only injuries. She began to push herself up to a sitting position, soon aided by Ronon's arm at her back. "And you?"

  He shrugged. "Coat protected me from most of the flame." Crouching next to her, he pulled at his hair and examined a couple of dreadlocks that looked slightly singed at the ends. In spite of his indifferent response, she could see a patch of reddened skin on the side of his neck. "And like Sheppard keeps telling me, I have a thick skull."

  It occurred to Teyla that she had no idea where they were. A rocky forest of some type, unfamiliar to her. "What happened?"

  "You remember the raiders?"

  Unfortunately, she did. "We were firing at their ship as it went thr
ough the gate."

  "They left us a present-an explosive. Probably trying to keep us from following them. I tried to get you out of the way before it blew." Ronon's expression was rueful. "Wasn't fast enough."

  "Obviously you were, since I am alive. Thank you."

  He deflected her gratitude by continuing. "The blast must have knocked us through the gate just behind the raiders. Don't know if they made a mistake when they dialed, or if this was a halfway stop for them, or what, but there doesn't seem to be much of anything around. I never even saw the ship again after we got here."

  Teyla scanned the area. She observed a number of massive boulders interspersed with evergreen trees, and little else. "I do not see a gate."

  "It's a few paces away, on the other side of these rocks. I figured we should get out of sight in case anyone came back. It hasn't been long, but there's been no gate activity yet." He stood and stretched, his spine cracking. "Your radio got lost somewhere, and mine's broken."

  "You thought it better to stay here than return to Atlantis?"

  Ronon grimaced. "You're not going to like this part."

  It would have served no purpose to ask what aspect of this mission she was meant to like, based on events so far. Rather than explain, he held out his canteen and a packet from the small medical kit in her vest. She swallowed the pain tablet and permitted him to pull her to her feet. "Show me."

  The walk was brief, as promised, and served to clear her head somewhat. The air had a crisp, clean scent, and the continuing birdsong accompanied them. She caught sight of one of the birds at last, a blue-gray animal much more diminutive than its voice suggested.

  Rounding the side of the rock face, which towered at least ten times as tall as Ronon, she drew up short in surprise.

  Debris littered the ground in a wide swath that extended as far as she could see. Most of it appeared to be metal, the remnants of a great structure of some type. Unlike the Ancient facility on P7L-418, the destruction here was total. She could identify large beams among the vast spread of smaller fragments. Under a thick layer of forest growth that obscured many details, the pieces were badly warped. Clearly it had been many years since the building had collapsed.