Alliances

by Karen Miller

  “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 been 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 sent 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?”

  “Yes, sir. My team’s organizing equipment and supplies as we speak. It’s heading towards sunset on Adjo, so SG-1 will leave Mennufer for the gate at first light.”

  He frowned. “Colonel Dixon said the planet is making our people sick. What can you tell me?”

  “About that? Nothing as yet, sir,” she said. “What I can tell you is the Adjoan woman has been infected by a variation of the smallpox virus.”

  “Smallpox? You’re sure?”

  A faint, unamused smile. “Yes, sir. We’ve gotten pretty good at identifying viruses.”

  Smallpox. “So that’s the cause of this Adjoan woman’s illness. What about Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter?”

  “I can’t say definitively, sir, not without running tests, but from Teal’c’s description of their symptoms I’d say it’s probable.”

  Hammond sat back. “Well… that’s good news, isn’t it? We can treat smallpox. It isn’t even always fatal. Stalin survived it.” More’s the pity.

  “Yes, sir,” she said carefully. “Earth’s smallpox virus can be survived. It runs about a thirty percent mortality rate. But I’m afraid there’s no treatment, as such, for any member of the orthopoxvirus family. If you can vaccinate within four days of exposure it’s possible to provide immunity or lessen the disease’s impact but…”

  “But what, Doctor? Spit it out.”

  “Well, for a start, we’re not dealing with an Earth strain of the virus. At least, not any more. The sample I took from Lotar contains traces of plant and animal RNA, though I can’t tell you which ones specifically. Not yet.”

  His heart bumped hard again. “What?”

  “I know,” said Fraiser. Her eyes were dark with tightly controlled emotion. “It means our existing smallpox vaccines will most likely prove useless. Of course we’ll use them, but…” She shrugged. “And sir, it gets worse. This Adjoan smallpox is highly unstable. I’ve set up three viral cultures from Lotar’s blood and in each case the virus has mutated.”

  He felt a punch of adrenaline. He wasn’t a doctor, but three years on this base had taught him a thing or two.

  “Already?” He had to consciously relax his clenched jaw. “And what does that mean, Doctor?”

  “Sir… this is completely new to me,” said Fraiser, her expression grim. “I can only imagine what we’re dealing with. The only thing I know for sure is that it’s bad.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Precisely the words he didn’t want to hear. “We seem to have attracted more than our fair share of ‘bad’ lately, Doctor.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Fraiser, her voice tight. “We certainly have. General, I’d like to bring USAMRIID in on this. The people at Fort Detrick have more material and information pertinent to smallpox than almost anyone in the world. I believe, though I can’t prove, that includes samples of the Earth variation of the virus.” Her lips tightened. “Also cultures of Yersinia pestis,” she added, under her breath.

  He frowned. Yersinia pestis? “Doctor, I don’t — ”

  “Bubonic plague, sir,” she said, scowling. “Anyway. I would very much like to avail myself of USAMRIID’s resources.”

  “I’m sure you would, Doctor. But that’s something I’ll need to clear with the President.”

  Fraiser wasn’t impressed. “General Hammond, without the help of experts in this field I’m not sure I can — ”

  “I understand your position, Doctor! Please try to understand mine. Because you have declared this a Code Red medical emergency I have no choice, I must consult with Washington before we bring in USAMRIID or anyone else. After I’ve done so I’ll inform you of the President’s decision — and whatever it is, we’ll both have to live with it. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “In which case, with your permission, I’ll get back to work.”

  He nodded. “Keep me apprised of SG-1’s status. And close the door behind you.”

  The moment he was alone, he put a call through to Washington. “George Hammond, Mister President.”

  “George! Where are we up to?”

  “I’m sorry to say we’re still at Code Red, Mister President. There have been some… disturbing developments.”

  On the other end of the phone, a heavy sigh. “Tell me.”

  Hammond filled him in, making no attempt to sugarcoat the news. When he was finished, he added, “Sir, I’m sorry. I know this is the last thing you wanted to hear.”

  “Yes, George, it is. Don’t suppose you’ve any good news for me, have you?”

  He looked down at Doctor Zola’s naquadah report. “Actually, sir, there is a little. My people have completed some preliminary tests on the naquadah Teal’c brought back from Adjo. It’s… well, sir, it’s exceptional.”

  “I see,” said the President, after a long and thoughtful pause. “That is good news, George. Especially given this setback with SG-1.”r />
  Hammond glared at the phone. Setback. The man called it a setback, as though his people had merely dropped their compass and temporarily lost their way. “Yes, sir.”

  “George, I don’t want you worrying about the naquadah. You’ve got enough on your plate. Send whatever Teal’c brought back with him over to Area 51. They can run more extensive tests on it there.”

  Area 51? That meant the NID. And that meant the ends justifying the means, again. Getting things done with no questions asked, again. Even after the Maybourne fiasco. So whatever happened on Adjo, whatever happened to SG-1, this much was clear: at the top of Washington’s agenda was the acquisition of the planet’s naquadah.

  Well, damn.

  There was no question of objecting. He’d just been given a direct order from his Commander in Chief. “Yes, sir. Mister President, Doctor Fraiser has requested the assistance of USAMRIID to contain this outbreak of Adjoan smallpox. I am inclined to grant her request.”

  Another long silence. Then a slow, drawn-out sigh. “I’m sorry, George. I really am. But you’re going to have to handle this one in-house. My hide’s still smarting from the tanning I got over that near-miss with SG-11. Right now, domestically, what you’ve got is a very small problem. But if you get outsiders involved it’ll become my very big problem. Keep this mess contained, George. Keep it under the radar. And George — ”

  He wasn’t surprised. How could he be surprised? He’d been playing this game for a very long time. Even so, he felt sick. “Yes, sir?”

  “If SG-1 can’t come home disease-free then I’m afraid they can’t come home at all. For all we know this could go global. That means Code Red protocols stay in effect till this situation’s resolved one way or another. Is that clear?”

  “Mister President… do you realize it will be virtually impossible for Doctor Fraiser to effectively treat — ”

  “Of course I realize it, General. And don’t think I’m not saddened. I count Jack O’Neill as a friend. Last thing I want to do is attend his memorial service, or a service for any member of his team. But I will if I have to. I won’t risk six billion lives.”

  And that was that. “Yes, Mister President,” Hammond said quietly. “Thank you, Mister President.”

  The President disconnected. He hung up the phone. Sat for some time brooding into thin air. Then, reluctantly, he sent for Janet Fraiser.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her, hitting her hard and fast. “The President has denied your request for USAMRIID’s assistance. In fact, we are denied consultations with any and all agencies external to the SGC. Furthermore, the Code Red protocols will remain in place until the situation on Adjo is resolved.”

  “Until SG-1 recovers or dies, you mean?” Fraiser shoved her hands in her lab-coat pockets, a sure-fire sign she was mightily distressed. “General Hammond, please. You need to speak with the President again. He has to change his mind. I am so far out of my depth I can’t even see the bottom, let alone touch it. It’s ludicrous to expect me to — ”

  He stood, knuckles rapping his desktop. “Doctor Fraiser, this is a military establishment and we are officers in the United States Air Force. My superior has given me an order and I will follow it. Your superior has given you an order, and you will follow it. Or would you prefer that I grant you an immediate transfer and hand this problem to somebody who can follow orders?”

  If he’d slapped her face she couldn’t have looked more shocked. “No, sir!”

  He sat again, slowly. Softened his approach, now that he had her undivided attention. “Janet, I’m sorry. But it’s the hand we’ve been dealt.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand, sir. It’s just… this is about more than SG-1. We could be looking at hundreds of Adjoan fatalities. Maybe thousands.”

  She was deeply distressed at the idea. So was he. “I know.” He cleared his throat. Time for the next little bit of unpleasantness. “Doctor Fraiser, how confident are you that the samples of Adjoan smallpox currently on this base are secure? That we don’t risk a breach of containment by keeping them here?”

  She stirred. Gave him a puzzled look. “Sir?”

  Did he have to spell it out for her? “Can you promise me, Doctor, that we’re not about to loose an unstoppable plague onto this base, and potentially this planet? Again?”

  Now her expression was wary. “Sir, the virus is in a Level IV containment area. We have ultraviolet lights on standby. Anyone entering the containment area does so in a Hazmat suit. The ventilation system is running through HEPA filters and by tomorrow we’ll have a negative pressure room available, which will stop the virus from escaping even if there is a containment breach. Which there won’t be.”

  Yes. Yes. “And if I recall, Doctor,” he said gently, “we had those precise precautions in place in the aftermath of SG-11’s mission to P9T-225. Have you established yet how this Adjoan virus is transmitted? Do we know if it’s an airborne pathogen?”

  “I’m running tests for that now, sir. General Hammond — ” Doctor Fraiser took a step towards his desk. “The only way to guarantee this virus never escapes onto the base is to destroy it, now, and bring no further samples in from Adjo.”

  “I’m aware of that, Doctor.”

  She took another step. “General, no. You can’t. If you prevent me from working with that virus I will never be able to help SG-1, or the Adjoans. The Code Red protocols weren’t designed for that.”

  “I’m aware of that, too.”

  And yet, and yet, the specter of SG-11 haunted him.

  “General Hammond, I am begging you,” said Fraiser. There was a hairline crack in her voice. “Don’t order me to destroy the virus. I’ll do this without USAMRIID. I’ll do it with duct tape and paperclips if I have to, whatever it takes to find a way out of this.”

  He frowned. “To find a cure? Is that possible?”

  “To find some kind of weapon that will give our people a fighting chance. Whatever it takes, sir. Please. Let me try.”

  How many miracles had she performed already? Would it be greedy, to ask for one more?

  I don’t care. This is a miracle I’ll fight for to the death.

  “Duct tapes and paperclips, Doctor?” he said, his throat tight. “I’ll see you’ve got access to an ample supply.”

  Daniel glared at Dixon, arms defiantly folded. “I don’t care what Fraiser said. Fraiser’s not here, and she’s not my superior officer. You’re not my superior officer either, Dave. I’m telling you, flat out, we are not leaving that poor girl alone out there overnight while she’s sick and suffering.”

  Beyond the retreat’s open door the sun was setting, the Adjoan sky streaking from blue to pink. It’d be dark soon, and if he had to argue with Dixon till his tongue fell out he wasn’t going to let some stupid medical protocol get in the way of doing what was right.

  “Would you leave one of your men out there?” he continued. “No. So if you’re suggesting Lotar’s somehow a second-class citizen because she’s not from Earth then — ”

  “Whoah, whoah, settle down,” said Dixon, a bite in his voice. “Did I say that? What I said was that bringing another sick person in here could increase our chances, yours and mine, of catching whatever the hell it is that’s going round. Because we’re not sick yet and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Oh for crying out loud!” he shouted. “We’re already exposed.”

  With a grunting effort, Jack shoved himself upright and braced his forearms on his knees. “Shut up, Daniel. Fraiser was right, and so’s Dixon. Yes, Carter’s sick and I’m sick, but we’re not sick in the same way and we should be. Something’s screwy with this rebirth disease.”

  “You don’t know that. You could just be in different stages, or something.”

  “Maybe,” said Jack. “But until we know for sure, Daniel, Lotar stays where she is. Not just for your sake, but the village’s too.”

  “But Jack — ”

  “Goddammit, I said no!” said Jack, his voice ragged. Then he took a dee
p breath, holding tight to his temper. “Please, Daniel, for once take no for an answer.”

  He stared at Jack, open-mouthed. Then Teal’c stepped forward, his face stern. “Daniel Jackson, your compassion is, as always, admirable. But this time you must listen. I will return to Lotar and stay with her through the night. She will not be alone. But she cannot be allowed any closer to Mennufer.”

  Daniel scowled. Clearly he wasn’t going to win this one, not with all three of them so vehemently against him. “Okay. Fine. But Jack, at least let me tell Bhuiku that she’s here, and she’s sick.”

  Jack stared at him, his puffy eyes dull. “And what happens when you tell him? He’ll want to be with her. And then what? He’s stuck with her. He can’t leave, in case he carries the infection away with him.”

  “Why would he want to leave her, Jack? He loves her. They’re getting married.”

  “Daniel…”

  “I’ll tell him, okay? I’ll tell him what the rules are. I’ll make sure he understands.”

  Jack glared. “And if he changes his mind? If he tries to break the rules? What? Are you prepared to shoot him, Daniel? Because that might be what it takes!”

  “Do not worry, O’Neill,” Teal’c said quietly. “I will make sure Bhuiku complies.”

  Jack dropped his forehead to his forearms. “God,” he muttered. “Look. Daniel. I’m not even sure I should let you leave. You could carry what we’ve got to the villagers, or catch something they’ve got and bring it back here. We don’t have the first idea how this rebirth works. Until we do, and until Fraiser tells us what disease we’re dealing with…”

  Dixon cleared his throat. “Someone’s got to check on the villagers, O’Neill. If any of them are sick we should take them back to the gate with us, so they can get treatment.”

  And there was support from an unexpected direction. Daniel gave the man a tentative smile. “He’s right, Jack. We can’t just abandon them. They have no medicine. It’d be tantamount to murder.”