by Karen Miller
O’Neill looked across at Carter, surrounded by i/v stands, still as death beneath her blanket. “So we did this. It’s on us.”
“Not intentionally,” said Fraiser, in a small voice.
“Yeah. Right,” O’Neill replied. His tone would have etched glass. “That’s what we’ll put on Lotar’s headstone. Whoops. Sorry.”
“If Doctor Fraiser is right about my Goa’uld symbiote,” said Teal’c, “we might yet undo this damage.”
“At what risk to you, Teal’c?” O’Neill demanded. “We’ve already seen how fast you die if anything happens to Junior. And it’s not like we’ve got a stash of his little cousins wriggling in a jar somewhere ready to take his place.”
“I am prepared to take the risk,” said Teal’c, unperturbed.
O’Neill scorched with him a look. “Yeah? Well it’s not your call. If you think I’m trading my life for yours, think again. Carter won’t go for it either.”
Teal’c’s expression chilled. “You are free to refuse medical treatment, O’Neill, as is Major Carter. But that will not stop me from helping the people of Adjo.”
“Even if it costs you your life?”
Fascinated, Dixon watched as Teal’c nodded.
Hell. It’s the Cor’ai take two. If O’Neill thinks he can browbeat Teal’c on this one he is demented, as well as sick.
And O’Neill knew it. “Fine. Whatever, Teal’c. It’s not like I’m in any shape to stop you. Fraiser — ”
Her head came up, wary. “Sir?”
“Pin your ears back, because this is an order. If you honestly think you and Teal’c have a chance here, you take it. You do your best to get us out of this mess. But the minute, no, the second it looks like Teal’c’s life is in danger, it’s over. You pull the plug.”
Fraiser nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now scoot. You two have a lot of work to do.”
The moment Teal’c and Fraiser were out of the tent, O’Neill slumped, almost groaning. Dixon eased him onto his camp bed, and covered his shivering body with a blanket.
Fighting unconsciousness, O’Neill stared up at him. “Okay, Dixon. The team’s yours now. You better take care of them… or I’ll kick your ass.”
“You got it, Jack,” he said quietly, and left the man to his pain.
“Okay, Teal’c,” said Janet, as they walked the streets of Georgetown. “Here’s what I’m thinking. If we accept the hypothesis that the Goa’uld genetically engineered their symbiotes so they could act as a Jaffa’s immune system and cure human diseases, then doesn’t it also follow that the genetically engineered symbiotes were given the ability to specifically defeat the viruses that Ra and Setesh let loose here on Adjo?”
“Yes,” Teal’c said, after a moment. “But if that is so, why then was Adjo declared rek’ash’navai?”
Damn. Good question. “Well — maybe because even with the genetic engineering the pathogens in their pure state were just too virulent. Even with genetic engineering the symbiotes were still at risk, then. But now that’s clearly not the case. I mean, your symbiote’s keeping you healthy. Which means the original pathogens have weakened considerably in the last three thousand years.”
“Your explanation seems logical,” said Teal’c. “But I am not a doctor.”
Some days I don’t feel like one either. “We know already that a Goa’uld can share a human body without the human immune system rejecting it. So there was already some kind of genetic tampering, to make that possible. Which means, theoretically, if we can synthesize a vaccine from your symbiote’s blood, and then find a way to mass-produce it, we can innoculate everyone here — maybe everyone on Adjo — and halt this thing in its tracks.”
Teal’c looked at her. “And how long will that take?”
Oh God. Too long. “Let’s not worry about that now. Let’s take this one step at a time. First, I need a sample of your symbiote’s blood.”
They hurried to the medical supply tent, where Teal’c stripped off his fatigue shirt and tee-shirt, baring his symbiote pouch to the warm air. She rummaged in the supply cases for a fresh sample kit, cursing the clumsiness of the damned Hazmat suit.
“You want to do this standing or lying down?” she asked. “We can get a camp bed.”
“You would have to kneel,” said Teal’c. “I shall stand.”
Except, even standing, she couldn’t get the job done. With Teal’c holding the symbiote three-quarters of the way out of its pouch, keeping its thrashing to a minimum, she tried to take the blood but the damned Hazmat suit made her too slow, too awkward. After the fourth failed attempt she stood back, sweating.
“Okay. Screw this,” she muttered. “Teal’c, take a break.”
And as he returned the symbiote to its haven and sat down, not quite steady, she stripped off the suit.
“Hey,” she said, meeting Teal’c’s horrified gaze. “It had to come off sooner or later. There’s the small matter of eating, drinking and peeing.” She sniffed, then screwed up her nose. “God. I stink. When we’re done here I’m taking an hour-long shower.”
Teal’c stood. “Colonel O’Neill will be most displeased, Doctor Fraiser.”
Truth be told, I’m not so happy myself. I guess now I’ll really have to make this work. “It’s fine, Teal’c. I’ll be fine. Now let’s get this done.”
Blessedly free of the Hazmat suit’s restraints, she got the blood she needed.
“Thank you, Teal’c,” she said. “You should rest. I know that was unpleasant.”
“I cannot rest,” he said, pulling on his tee-shirt. “I must assist Colonel Dixon and Daniel Jackson with their rounds.”
“Rest,” she insisted. “You’ve got an extra pair of hands on the team now. Take advantage of them.”
“Very well,” he agreed, and left the tent.
After scribbling notes to go with the blood sample, outlining her theory and jotting down a list of the equipment she needed from her lab, she bundled everything into an empty transport case, hurried to the gate and opened a wormhole to the base.
“Sergeant, I need to speak to Doctor Warner.”
“Janet!” said Bill, seeing her via the MALP camera. “My God — your Hazmat suit — you’re staying there?“
“Yes,” she said. “Trust me, Bill. You’d have done the same thing. Look, I’m sending you through a sample of symbiote blood and an outline of my theory. Double check my reasoning, will you? Make sure I’m on the right track? Then we can talk about what comes next.”
“Symbiote blood?” said Bill. “From Teal’c? What — you’re thinking a vaccine? My God, is that even possible?”
Oh, the joys of not having to explain everything. “That’s what I’m hoping to find out, Bill.”
“There’s not a lot of blood in a symbiote, Janet. We’ll have to be careful.”
She felt sick. “I know.”
And as for the ethical considerations, well… it was a Goa’uld. And this crisis was the Goa’uld’s fault to begin with. She didn’t have the luxury of being squeamish.
“I’ve included a list of equipment I need, so I can set up my own lab. Once we’re agreed we’re headed in the right direction I can duplicate your processes and we can double-check our results.”
“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 coming 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.
Chapter Twenty-five
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 whole 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 holding 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 cloc
k, 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.”