“Yes, this is the sort of thing that keeps happening, and if Parrish gets an infection and dies, we’ll have lost our senior biologist —”
“Oh, thanks. That makes me feel a whole lot better,” Parrish said, and winced again as Marie Wu tightened the dressing. “Ow.”
“If you’ve got him squared away, Dr. Wu, we could use your help over here,” Bates said.
“Yes, I’m coming.” Wu pushed herself to her feet, stripping off a set of latex gloves. “Dr. McKay, can you get him back to the infirmary?”
“I suppose —”
“We’ll help,” Carter said quickly, and Daniel nodded. Teal’c watched long enough to be certain that McKay was not going to impede them, and turned his attention back to O’Neill.
The general was watching Bates with an expression that most of his men had learned meant trouble. “Seems like there’s an awful lot of collateral damage, Sergeant.”
Bates gave him a fulminating stare. “You saw what the Wraith are like. It’s only volume of fire that puts them down for good.”
“I saw that,” O’Neill said, still in that same deceptively mild tone. “And given that you don’t exactly have an unlimited supply of ammunition, I’m thinking that more disciplined fire is warranted.”
Indeed. Teal’c swallowed the word, though he had been wanting to make the same point, and Bates’ face darkened further.
“With all respect, General —”
“Yeah, I know,” O’Neill said. “I’m not from your timeline, and you don’t have to take orders from me. But I wouldn’t think I’d need to order you not to shoot your own people.”
He stalked away without waiting for an answer, following Carter and the others from the mess hall. Bates glared after him, fingers twitching, and Teal’c readied himself to intervene. But then the sergeant seemed to master himself, and waved to the nearest Marines.
“All right, get these bodies out of here. You know the drill.”
Something in his tone seemed odd, Teal’c thought, though he could not quite define it. Of course there would be a procedure for dealing with the dead Wraith, it was only logical — necessary, to keep disease from spreading in the camp, and also a matter of honor, or at least it would have been in his own universe. He allowed himself to drift toward one of the groups hoisting bodies under Ford’s supervision, and spoke quietly.
“Do you need assistance, Lieutenant?”
The young man stopped as though the idea startled him. “Um. No, no thank you,” he said. “We’ll manage.”
And that was even more odd. A burial detail, even of the enemy, was never something that couldn’t be lightened by more hands. Teal’c stepped back, watching as the Marines hauled the bodies away. Behind him, Pollard and his crew were putting the mess hall back to rights, talking quietly among themselves, while the rest of the scientists picked up their gear. Teal’c caught references to breakfast, to the normal routine of the day’s work, now starting earlier than planned, and slipped through the door before anyone could notice what he was doing.
It was light out now, the eastern sky as pale pink as the inside of a shell, a white spot between the trees showing where the sun would rise, but there was no sign of the Marines. Teal’c glanced at the trampled ground, but it offered no useful sign. Instead, he tipped his head to the side, listening, and thought he could pick out the sound of equipment and a mutter of voices toward the edge of the camp. He moved toward the sounds, careful to stay in cover, and finally eased between two broken walls to look out onto the burial ground.
Only it was not just a burial ground. Teal’c lifted his eyebrows as he watched two of the Marines hoist a Wraith body up onto an improvised table, adjusting it so that its right arm lay palm down. Ford examined it, then drew a long-bladed knife and cut carefully into the skin along the top of the forearm. It was hard to be certain, but he seemed to be following the line of a dark vein that ran up the Wraith’s arm. Dark green blood welled sluggishly from the cut, and Teal’c tensed, wondering if the creature could still be alive. But, no, it did not stir, and surely if it were living it would protest this dissection. Ford stopped the cut a little below the elbow and made a second incision perpendicular to the first. From within it, he drew out a dark green sac the size of a child’s fist. It was attached by several thick veins, and one of the other Marines tied them off before Ford cut the sac free. A third man produced a plastic box, the sort used for collecting plant specimens, and Ford set it carefully inside before nodding for the Marines to remove the first body. They took it to a pit that Teal’c had not noticed before and dropped it in, while two more Marines hoisted the next Wraith body onto the table. Ford examined its arm, and began again to cut.
Teal’c watched, his expression impassive, as Ford removed the same organ from each of the dead Wraith. There were more than a dozen, and the collecting box was stuffed full of the sacs by the time they were done. Ford closed the box carefully and started back toward the camp, leaving the others to finish burying the bodies, and Teal’c drew further into the shadow of the ruins until he had passed.
The action made no sense. It was clearly not random desecration: the Marines were targeting a specific thing, some part of the Wraith feeding system, perhaps, since it was attached to the feeding hand. But what they could possibly want with such things… Teal’c shook his head and started back toward the mess hall. They would need to investigate thoroughly, beginning with the expedition doctors. But he was certain of one thing: O’Neill would not approve.
Jack followed McKay’s people through the rising light toward the infirmary, trying to get a grip on his temper. Bates’s handling of the firefight in the mess hall had been criminally stupid, and it was just luck that more people hadn’t been killed or injured. He wanted nothing more than to put Bates on report, and add some trenchant comments to both his and Sumner’s permanent files — hell, if he had his way, he’d bring Bates up on charges, recklessly endangering the civilians he was supposed to be protecting. In the back of his mind, he could almost hear George Hammond expostulating — what are you going to do about it, Jack? — but practically there was nothing he could do. Sumner had made his position very clear, and he had the men to back it up. For now, Jack promised himself. He wasn’t about to let this ride much longer.
It was hot and crowded in the infirmary, Dr. Wu still working on Dr. Parrish’s leg while several of her own staff and a Marine corpsman tended a string of minor cuts and abrasions. The corpsman was working mostly on Marines, Jack noted, while the civilian staff took care of scientists and Air Force personnel. That was not a good sign, and his frown deepened as he noticed that the corpsman finished the treatment of each Marine with an injection into their upper arms. Neither the civilians nor the airmen received those shots, and Dr. Wu seemed to go out of her way not to see them given.
“How’s Parrish doing?” he asked quietly, and Wu looked up, seeming almost grateful for the question.
“He got off lucky,” she said. “The bullet went through the fleshy part of his thigh, missed the bone and the big blood vessels, and it may even have been a ricochet. I was afraid it might have broken his femur.”
“You and me both,” Parrish muttered. “It hurts like hell, Marie. Is there any chance of something stronger than ibuprofen?”
“Absolutely.” Wu unlocked one of the storage chests and took out a bottle of tablets. She counted out six and wrapped them in a twist of paper. “Sorry I don’t have any nice bottles for you, but this is what I’ve got. Take one every 8 hours for pain, and stay off the leg for at least 24 hours. Then I’ll give you crutches and we’ll see.”
“Like crutches are going to do me any good on this terrain,” Parrish said, but took the paper. “Thanks, Marie.”
One of the other biologists helped him to his feet and a dark-haired man came to support him on the other side.
“I mean stay off your feet,” Wu said, and the botanist nodded.
“Believe me, I’d like nothing better.”
The curtain fell closed behind him, and Wu turned to Daniel. “Let me take a look at that.”
Jack gave him a sharp look, and Daniel held up his left wrist. “It’s — and I say this with all due appreciation of the irony of the comment — it really is just a scratch.”
“No reason not to clean it properly,” Wu said, and reached for a bottle of alcohol.
“Ow! When it hurts like that — yeah, that’s a reason.” Daniel contrived to look hurt, but Jack could see that it wasn’t anything more than a shallow graze along the back of his arm, not really large enough to need a bandage.
“What’s with the shots?” Jack asked, and nodded toward the corpsman, who was packing his gear back into his kit. “Don’t tell me your guys aren’t up-to-date on tetanus.”
Wu’s face changed. “That’s — it’s Dr. Beckett’s anti-Wraith drug. It needs to be taken regularly to maintain the effect.”
“Speaking of which,” Jack said. “Where is Dr. Beckett? I’d expect him to be here helping.”
“I don’t know, sir.” Wu’s face and voice were wooden, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Dr. Beckett was on his way back from the Athosian village when the attack happened,” the corpsman volunteered. “He fell and hit his head. Colonel Sumner said to take him to his quarters and let him recover there.”
“You know, I’d really like a word with him,” Jack said.
“He’s under sedation, sir. I’m sorry.” The corpsman fitted the last of the vials into his kit and stood up quickly. “I’m sure Colonel Sumner will let you know as soon as he’s fit to talk.” He ducked through the curtain without waiting to be dismissed.
“Sir,” Carter said.
“Yeah, I know.” Jack looked at Wu. “Tell me, Doctor, do you usually sedate somebody who’s suffered a head injury?”
“Not generally, no.” She still wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“You want to tell me what’s really going on?” Jack pitched his voice low enough that the last of the Marines wouldn’t hear.
“Not right now.” Wu took a deep breath. “Come back after breakfast, we can talk then. Bring Dr. Jackson back and I’ll find a bandage for him.”
Jack nodded. “Ok. Carter, Daniel — let’s go.”
Breakfast was about as bad as Jack had expected: some weird local egg that tasted just as bad as the powdered version, and the dregs of the coffee pot. He made himself eat anyway, knowing he’d want the calories later, though Daniel pushed his plate away unhappily.
“Colonel Carter.”
And that was McKay, just in time to make the morning perfect. Jack squinted up at him, trying to look unwelcoming, and Carter said, “Yes?”
“Can I borrow you again today? I’ve got an idea about patching a naquadah generator into what’s left of the city’s defense system. Since that’s likely to be a little less dangerous to random bystanders than our current system.”
“But —” Carter stopped, swallowed a quick mouthful of coffee. “Yes, of course. Unless General O’Neill needs me here?”
Jack shook his head. “Go ahead. I’ll just take Daniel back to the infirmary. Keep in radio contact.”
“They didn’t shoot you, too,” McKay said, to Daniel, who shook his head.
“Just a scratch. From a splinter or something.”
McKay sniffed, but forbore further comment as Carter scrambled to her feet.
“I’ll stay in touch, sir,” she said, and followed McKay from the mess hall.
Daniel poked at the last of his eggs, and put his fork down. “Are we done here?”
Jack managed not to look over his shoulder to see how many Marines were left in the room, glanced instead at his watch. “Yeah. I’d say so.”
They walked slowly back toward the infirmary building, Jack doing his best to project ‘aimless wandering’ rather than purposeful progress. No one seemed to be paying attention, most of the scientists busy with their projects, the military either on duty or sleeping after the morning’s excitement, but nonetheless Jack kept and eye out for any unwanted attention. They had turned the final corner when Teal’c stepped out of the shadows.
“O’Neill. I hoped I would catch you here.”
“You might give a person some warning.”
“I will bear that in mind,” Teal’c said, without sincerity. “I have seen something profoundly disturbing. The Marines are harvesting organs from the dead Wraith.”
“Organs?”
Jack was glad Daniel had said it, as it spared him from sounding equally queasy.
“Indeed. A sac or gland on the arm that bears their — feeding hand, I have heard it called.” Teal’c looked perhaps a hair less impassive than usual. “I believe the Marines removed that organ from every Wraith killed this morning.”
“We’re on our way to Dr. Wu,” Jack said, after a moment. “Since Dr. Beckett still isn’t available. I’m betting she has the answer.”
“If she’ll tell us,” Daniel said.
“I think she wants to,” Jack answered, and ducked under the infirmary curtain. “Dr. Wu?”
“Here.” She stepped out from the inner room, looking more relaxed than she had any other time Jack had seen her. She held up a roll of adhesive tape and a pack of gauze. “It looks as though I did have some bandages to spare after all.”
“Is that really necessary?” Jack asked.
This time, Wu met his gaze directly. “I’d like to have an excuse for talking to you, General. You may be getting out of here and back to your own time, but I’m in it for the long haul.”
“That bad?” Daniel said. He seated himself on the edge of the table and began rolling up his sleeve.
“At the moment.”
“Tell me about this drug of Beckett’s,” Jack said.
“You saw how the Wraith kill,” Wu said. “It’s important you understand that, understand why.”
Jack nodded. He’d seen the scientist they dragged away, withered to a caricature of a human being.
“The thing about the Wraith is that they’re — Dr. Beckett called them ‘obligate animavores’. They feed on what I supposed you’d describe as the vitality, the life force, of intelligent beings, and nothing else. When they feed they drain the body of that force, and it’s horribly painful and debilitating. In fact, even a partial feeding is usually fatal in the long run. That happened to one of the Marines, after the first attack. His buddies got the Wraith off him before it killed him, but he slipped into a coma and died anyway. That’s when we, Dr. Beckett and I, figured out about the enzyme.”
Teal’c lifted his head. “This would be why I saw organs taken from the dead?”
Wu nodded. “Being fed upon is a horrible strain on the body, so the Wraith have evolved to secrete an enzyme that mitigates some of the effects. They inject it into the body through one of the claws on the feeding hand, and it slows the physical degeneration. Dr. Beckett believes that it allows the Wraith to take more ‘food’ from an individual human, because we don’t die so quickly when we’re attacked.”
“Lovely,” Daniel said.
“The thing is, once we realized how the enzyme worked, Dr. Beckett saw a way to use it to increase resistance to the Wraith feeding process. We tweaked the chemical structure slightly, so that the actual Wraith enzyme is blocked, and we tailored it so it’s not so hard on the human body.” Wu gave an odd sad smile. “It even had some positive side effects — the people who tested it found that their reaction times increased, they were stronger, faster, didn’t tire as quickly. It seemed like a real breakthrough.”
“But?” Jack asked, when she seemed unwilling to go on.
“But it also has other, cumulative problems,” Wu said. “The body builds up a resistance to its effects — we did anticipate that, and I think we could have controlled for it, but it is a problem. And it seems to have psychological effects as well.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Daniel murmured.
“Psychological effect such as — ?” Jack prompted.
>
“Obsessive thoughts of various kinds. Including what one might diagnose as paranoia.”
“Wonderful.” Jack couldn’t say he was entirely surprised. It fit with Sumner’s barely leashed temper, with the way Bates’s men acted as though they were looking for a fight. “So what’s really happened to Dr. Beckett?”
“Colonel Sumner has him working to stockpile as much of the drug as possible,” Wu answered. “The Colonel set him up in a laboratory beneath one of the Ancient buildings, one that’s hidden from the Wraith. I expect — if Mr. Teal’c saw them harvesting the enzyme sacs, I expect Dr. Beckett is working on them now. The enzyme has to be extracted while the sacs are still relatively fresh.”
She shook herself and reached for the tape and gauze, began mechanically to bandage Daniel’s arm.
“So the whole story about helping the Athosians was just more bull,” Jack said.
“Not entirely.” Wu cut strips of tape and hung them on the side of the metal tray. “Halling — he’s the Athosians’ other leader, their internal leader, we think. Halling does ask for him when they have medical problems, especially since Colonel Sumner isn’t letting them go through the Stargate to do their usual trading.”
“Great,” Daniel said. He flexed his newly bandaged arm. “And — thanks, that’s a lot better.”
Yeah, Jack thought. Just dandy. A paranoid colonel leading a pack of trigger-happy Marines who looked like they were on the verge of forgetting that they were here to protect the civilian part of the expedition — yeah, that was exactly what he wanted to deal with. “Do you see Dr. Beckett?”
“Sometimes,” Wu answered. She closed the lid of the medical cabinet with a sharp click.
STARGATE SG-1-19-23-Ouroboros-s08 Page 11
