If Rodney McKay were even the least bit socially perceptive, he could not fail to miss the fact that she was incredibly annoyed with him. Sure, she was making an effort to conceal the more obvious signs of irritation, but she was aware that her lips remained compressed in a tight line. She crossed her arms in front of her chest in an effort to keep from clenching her fists. A concrete lawn ornament should have been able to register her increasing indignation. She really detested being treated like an underdeveloped three year old child by a colleague.
Dr. Emily Wilson continued to view her newly appointed personal nemesis with disfavor as he ranted over her latest report. She had heard that he considered the medical sciences to be a `voodoo art' compared with his own field of astrophysics. Why he was even involved in this project, she had no idea. Surely the man could not be a recognized genius in every field of study? A small part of her grudgingly acknowledged the spurt of envy behind that mental commentary but she decided that genius or not, he didn't have to be such a jerk.
"As I said before, Dr. McKay," she interposed when he paused for breath, "The work that has been done here does shows some promise, but I believe we would make greater progress if we could take samples of the neurotoxin back to Atlantis and work on them in our labs there. If the Tarn would only allow..."
McKay cut her off abruptly, with the quick gesture and temper of a man who drinks too much coffee and is convinced he is surrounded by idiots. "You said that the last time too, and I am telling you again the Tarn have their reasons why they do not wish us to remove their samples and materials from their labs. They made some serious sacrifices to extract the toxin from the iratus organism--understandably they wish to maintain proprietary control of the work."
Like it was something that would be stolen by a major pharmaceutical company and marketed throughout the Pegasus galaxy? She opened her mouth to interject but of course, McKay was not through. "I've checked the stats on your last projections," he was saying. So that was why he was involved. "You have failed to take into consideration the regenerative powers of the Wraith."
"It is a little difficult to predict a behavior for which we have so little data."
He suddenly turned on her, eyes blazing as he spoke earnestly. "How terribly inconvenient. Why don't we just call up one of our friendly Wraith and ask them to send over a physiology textbook? Or do you just intend to gloss over that little point? And then what, test it under field conditions and find out, oh hey, it doesn't work? Where would that leave us? People's lives are at stake here, Dr. Wilson. For heaven's sake, what were you thinking when you signed up for this expedition--that this was some `space, the final frontier' joy ride?" He thrust the papers she had given him back in her general direction. "Look at it again. Maybe you can try reading it this time." He stalked off, running both hands through his hair in an "I give up" gesture as he moved down the gloomy hallway. Emily stared after him for a moment in open-mouthed disbelief, before snapping her mouth shut and heading back towards the Tarn lab.
Her shoes made little noise on the thick stone floor. She felt very much like she were walking back into a dungeon as she made her way back to the lower levels where the lab was housed. Moisture rolled down the dank walls and the dimness was only partially relieved by light fixtures caged in wire. How dare he? She internally stormed as she marched back to the lab. How dare he question her intentions and imply that she had no right to be here? Or worse, that she was deliberately wasting precious time and resources by being here. Every single member of this team had been hand-picked by Dr. Weir and everyone had sacrificed much to make the one-way trip to the Pegasus galaxy. McKay's diatribe, coming as it did after she had been working on Dr. Beckett's team for nearly a week straight with barely a break for food or sleep, rankled deeply.
She entered the lab, ready to inflict her bad mood on anyone working there, only to find the room empty when she arrived. Reflexively, she looked at the clock on the wall above the blackboard where columns of notations had been posted. The clock's hands were stuck together on the 13th hour and twitched convulsively. Not that it would do her much good if the clock was running. She never could figure out how they kept time on this planet and she was fairly certain the Tarn didn't have a firm grasp of it either. She sighed, anger suddenly deflated.
She sat down at her workstation, carefully examining one of the test darts prepared with the now questionable neurotoxin before gingerly replacing it in favor of rubbing her temple. She felt a headache threatening to erupt. Everyone must have gone to lunch, but having already sat through several meals as a guest of the Tarn, Emily did not have much appetite. They seemed to be big on starchy root vegetables and animal intestines filled with a pasty mush. Dr. Beckett seemed to like it though--probably reminded him of haggis. What she would not do for a big, juicy cheeseburger right about now. The thought made her wander back around to the things she had given up to be here in this place.
Across from the workstation, a large metal refrigerator dully caught her reflection. She stared at it morosely. She needed a haircut and knew she would never find someone to give her the layered cut she was used to wearing. Of all the support staff considered vital to the Atlantis project, hairdressers had apparently not been deemed requisite. These small things bothered her more than she would have ever imagined had someone asked her ahead of time what she would miss most about leaving Earth. She would need to figure out some way to color her hair too...and soon. She pulled the currently still amber locks up from her forehead and surveyed them gloomily. Maybe she could ask Teyla Emmagan. Surely the Athosians would have some way of coming up with a natural hair dye; women all over the universe had been dyeing their hair for millennia. Of course, if she looked like Teyla, her inner critic suggested sourly, she wouldn't give a rat's ass what her hair looked like.
Nope, regardless of the choices that led to her being here, she was now stuck in a galaxy (she couldn't help but mentally add "far, far away") without the little luxuries that she had always taken for granted, seldom any time off, and colleagues that drove her crazy. Her irritation with McKay briefly resurfaced. Come to think of it, she wasn't even getting paid! Well, it wasn't as if she could just go and apply for another job; she was well and truly stuck so long as they couldn't find a power source capable of generating enough juice to gate them home again. So here she was, given the unenviable assignment of finding the wooden stake that might give them some tiny advantage over the Pegasus version of vampires--like that had been in the job description! She glanced up at her reflection and spoke aloud. "That's Dr. Van Helsing to you." She snorted. Time to get back to work.
The lab was set up with several rows of long tables in the center of the room and tiers of shelving with glass containers that held everything from dangerous chemicals to fetal animals in preservative liquid. Above her head, exhaust fans turned slowly, barely moving the moist air. It reminded her of an old fifties-style high school chemistry lab. She had a hard time believing that any work produced here would truly be valid. She removed her communication headset, though she knew that it was against the rules to do so when offworld, and laid it on the countertop. She plugged in an ear bud and dialed up some music to work by, hitching her chair up closer to the table.
She was bent over her calculations, commiserating with Sheryl Crowe on the fact that both of them had crummy jobs, when some sibilance of movement behind her made all the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Instinctively, she glanced up without moving her head. In the watery reflection of the refrigerator, she could make out a tall, menacing figure behind her. Long, lank white hair. Pale green features with a mouth open in a hiss of pure hate. One long hand reaching towards her... Her heart clenched as tightly as a closed fist while her brain processed the information. A Wraith. In the lab...behind her. Like a rabbit paralyzed with fear at the sight of an approaching snake, for an infinite moment in time she was incapable of moving, of making a sound. Then she suddenly exploded backwards in her chair, wheeling straight into the Wraith behind her.
She was so close she could smell the terrible, necrotic stench of his breath. He grunted with a snarl as she slammed him backwards over the table behind her, dropping quickly down out of her chair and scrambling under her worktable to the other side. She stood facing him as he rose to his full, terrible proportions. THINK her brain screamed at her. The Wraith stood between her and the only door. Her headset was no longer visible on the countertop--buried in papers as she had pushed away from the table. Snatching up the handful of darts, she hurriedly threw them as hard as she could, one after the other in rapid fire succession.
The first two missed wildly but the third sank into the Wraith's left shoulder and the forth punctured the face just below the cheekbone. The Wraith hissed in annoyance as the darts struck, then casually pulled them out and turned them over in his long, skeletal hands. Emily watched in horrible fascination as the hole left by the facial dart immediately began to seal itself up. She had read the debriefing accounts from other encounters with the Wraith, but the tersely worded reports did little justice to this reality. The Wraith began to laugh, dribbling the darts out of his hands onto the floor.
"Your efforts at self defense are pathetic." She was repulsed and fascinated by the gnarled green teeth inside his mouth. "I will feast on your soul this day until the flesh of your bones folds in on itself and turns to dust..."
Crap, she thought, I am about to die, the neurotoxin doesn't work and Rodney McKay was right.
Suddenly she found her voice. Screaming like a Valkyrie, at a pitch not normally attained by humans, she shoved her worktable with all her might towards the Wraith, pinning him between the two tables. Sweeping up anything and everything within her reach, she began to volley whatever was at hand at the Wraith; Bunsen burners, glass beakers, ceramic smelting pots, Petrie dishes. She shrilled like a siren as she matched physical onslaught with vocal fury. The Wraith snarled and ducked at the flying equipment, pushing at the tables in an effort to free himself. "You are merely delaying the inevitable. Soon I will...will you shut up!" he roared suddenly. For a second she froze, as stunned as though she had been slapped in the face.
He lifted the table up with one hand and was tipping it over when her communication headset slid down the length of the countertop. The moment of shock broken, she dove for it, snatching it up with shaking hands. "Major Sheppard!" she shrieked into the headset, "Wraith! In the lab! Wraith in the lab!"
With an explosion of rage, the Wraith flipped over the table and sent it crashing to the floor. "Resistance is fut...ooof." The air was forced out of him as a centrifuge flew into his chest. Emily ducked around the end of the table to the fume hood and heaved up a large container marked H2SO4. Uncorking it, she spun around with it in her arms like a discus and let it fly. The acid sizzled and spit as it spattered on the surrounding surfaces, but the majority of the liquid made contact with the Wraith. Screaming in fury and pain, the creature writhed and smoked as the acid bit deep into his flesh. For a horrid moment, Emily was reminded of the melting scene in the Wizard of Oz, and half-expected the Wraith to bemoan the loss of his beautiful wickedness. His features started to bubble and slide across his face, only to stop and begin remolding again. All except for the area of his face where the dart went in...
As the Wraith came around the end of the table, Emily scrabbled to climb over the other side. Moving with terrifying speed, the Wraith closed the ground between them, but Emily whipped off her lab jacket and threw it over his head. Heedless of the broken glass and chemicals around her, she lunged for a large container on the shelving above her head that held what appeared to be some small rocks stored in liquid. She almost dropped it in her haste to get it down, and wasted precious seconds trying to open the lid before resorting to smashing it on a countertop. The Wraith was almost on top of her when she flung the contents of the jug in his face, ducking down and diving under another table as she did so.
"This is pointless," the Wraith sneered, "the more you fight the greater the pleasure I will take in your consumption." He brushed at the oily substance and smouldering chunks of material coating his person. Emily stood up from her place behind the table, a container of water in her hand.
"I don't think so." She threw the beaker of water at his face, averting her eyes as she did so.
The resulting flash and explosion threw her off her feet and into a stack of metal shelving. She crawled out from under the partially collapsed frame and continued to shield her eyes from the white-hot flames that leapt up from the body of the screaming Wraith. Covering her mouth and nose with one arm, she scrambled to her feet and ran out into the hallway, only to plow headlong into Major Sheppard as he and Lt. Ford arrived on the scene. "How many?" he shouted, as he thrust her aside. A secondary explosion shattered glass from within the room.
"One, just one." Emily coughed out the information. He nodded, as if receiving confirmation of what he already knew, and then he was at the doorframe, weapon in hand, motioning to Ford to take the other side. She felt someone grab her by the arm and brought her fist up defensively before realizing that it was McKay. She just missed punching him before she realized he was trying to pull her out of the line of fire. "Stop them," she wheezed at McKay, "fumes toxic...will kill them."
McKay's eyes widened and he dropped her arm, lunging forward and grabbing Sheppard by the shoulder even as he was on the move. Sheppard whipped around, weapon to bear and McKay released him, throwing up his hands to show he was unarmed. "You can't go in there!" He was yelling as if to prove his point. "Toxic fumes!"
Sheppard looked seriously annoyed and for a moment, Emily thought he would go in anyway. The smoke now roiling out of the room had everyone gagging and Sheppard motioned everyone to fall back. "That's the only exit," McKay volunteered.
Emily nodded and added, "There's an external emergency exhaust system--we can access it down the corridor." McKay and Sheppard traded a look; some sort of silent communication between them ensued and then the decision was made.
"Go with her; get the exhaust going." Sheppard was already turning back to watch the doorway of the lab. "We'll hold the fort."
"Just as long as it is not the bloody Alamo." McKay sounded less than pleased to be ordered away. Still, he turned to Emily and she jerked a thumb over her shoulder and began to run down the hallway. They quickly found the main breaker box for the electrical system and a long-handled switch for the emergency exhaust. Emily noted a fire ax behind a glassed-in window on the wall--she broke the glass with her elbow and snatched up the ax. McKay looked momentarily surprised but said nothing as they hurried back towards the lab.
"How did the Wraith get in here?" Emily wanted to be absolutely sure this was the only one on the planet.
"The Tarn captured it on another world." McKay sounded really pissed as compared to his usual merely annoyed. "We just now found out they were holding it on this level near the lab. We were already headed this way when your message came through. Injured, unfed, they somehow believed they could contain it until the neurotoxin was ready for testing. The Tarn can't even keep time. What the hell made them think they could keep a Wraith?"
So that was why the Tarn had refused to let them go back to Atlantis and work on the project there. They probably knew on some level that keeping the Wraith was a really bad idea. No wonder they had kept up the pressure to work round the clock.
When they arrived back at the lab, Sheppard and Ford were nowhere in sight. With an inaudible curse, McKay put his shoulder to the doorframe and peered around it into the lab. Emily hefted the ax in her hands. "Well?" McKay raised his voice so it would carry into the room. He was still alert, but something in his posture relaxed slightly.
"Looks dead to me." Sheppard's voice came back to them over the whir of the overhead fans. Emily leaned around the doorframe to look into the room, which had now cleared of smoke. Sheppard and Ford were stepping carefully over the smouldering rubble, boots crunching on broken glass. Sheppard was kicking over pieces of debris, P-90 ever at the ready. Ford was circling the perimeter, his weapon raised likewise as he scanned the shelves and walls.
"You are sure." Emily's voice was flat, angry. It was a statement rather than a question. She started into the room.
"Hang on there!" McKay reached for her arm, only to stop at her expression. "What do you think you are doing?"
"Making sure it's dead." She spat the words as though they were bitter.
A ghost of a smile flitted across the Major's features. "McKay, don't argue with an ax- wielding woman." He kicked aside a section of shelving to reveal the bulk of the Wraith's corpse. "Pretty toasty. Very effective. Good job." She made herself stare at the blackened hull. Sheppard's matter-of-fact drawl steadied her; kept her from turning to wretch in a corner at the awful smell. "There seems to be some over here too." He continued to poke around.
"Yeah," Ford agreed. "I think this is a bit of Wraith over here as well. And maybe a little up there. Jeez, doc. You blew up the whole dammed lab."
"It really is not that hard if you have a basic knowledge of chemistry. A little elemental sodium, a little water..." Emily knew her voice sounded impossibly calm--but she could not understand why Sheppard looked askance at her with one arched eyebrow. She had to struggle for a moment not to burst into hysterical laughter.
"Yes," McKay agreed. "Actually, the hard part is usually not blowing up the lab."
Sheppard did grin then and Ford snorted quietly as he continued his circuit of the room. Emily felt her arms start to shake and the ax dropped with a clatter to the floor. She was exhaling hard and felt unaccountably dizzy. She started to turn away towards the door, only to stumble. Two sets of hands grabbed hold of her arms and practically carried her to the door.
"Now there, Dr. er..." Sheppard began, but was at a loss for her name.
"Emily." McKay supplied unexpectedly. "Emily Wilson."
"Well, okay Emily." Sheppard continued. "Time to power down now. You're just feeling the effects of an adrenaline let-down. You're going to be okay." Together they steered her into the corridor and propped her against the wall. McKay quickly let go of her arm but Sheppard continued to support her with one hand. Ford positioned himself in the doorway, where he could see in all directions.
"Hey doc." She looked over at Ford. "Word has it that the Tarn want to use your voice for a planetary alert system." He winced and made a waggling motion with a finger in one ear.
"Yeah, but the good news is that I will probably regain the hearing in my left ear...eventually." Sheppard added dryly. For an instant, she could see behind the joke what it had cost him to hear someone, anyone, scream like that on his watch.
"Emily." McKay cleared his throat. "You really performed outstandingly well under the circumstances..."
"Don't you dare be nice to me!" She raged at him, pulling out of Sheppard's grip.
A flabbergasted McKay took a hurried step back. "Wha-what did I do?"
"You're trying to be nice to me. Stop it." Emily felt her lips start to quiver. "Because if you're nice to me I'll st-st-start crying." She tried to keep glaring at him but tears began to run down her face. She wiped them away furiously.
"You see! You see!" McKay turned on Sheppard. "This is why I am never nice to anyone!"
Sheppard gave him a dirty look and before she could protest, folded Emily into his arms. "You're going to be fine." She clutched at the front of his jacket, willing herself not to burst into hysterical sobbing. "You do realize," he said after a moment, "that this means we are going to have to cut off your caffeine supply." She felt a laugh catch in her throat, as she knew it was meant to do and reluctantly eased herself out of the comfort of having someone hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right. She met Sheppard's eyes for a moment and said a soft "thanks" before turning to McKay again.
"Dr McKay," she began formally, as composed as though nothing had happened. "I tested the neurotoxin on the Wraith--since one happened to be present--and you were correct that their regenerative powers could overcome the toxin. I did notice however, that subsequent injuries to the areas locally affected by the toxin resulted in slower regeneration, so while the original purpose as an agent of paralysis might not be effective, the toxin may still be useful after all."
"If they can't heal so fast, they may be easier to kill?" Ford seldom joined in any scientific conversation, but he seemed excited by the idea of something that could give them an edge on the Wraith.
"Maybe." She conceded, glancing in his direction. When she looked back at McKay she was startled to see that he looked very uncomfortable. He opened and closed his mouth several times, tucked his arms in his elbows, then straightened them only to fold them across his chest again.
"You noticed..." he said very quietly in awe. He looked at her for a long moment and then spoke suddenly and rapidly. "Actually, Emily, I was wrong. I was wrong when I suggested that maybe you should have thought twice about joining the expedition here. You are a member of this team---you shouldn't have to prove that to any of us--to me," he amended, turning an interesting shade of red, "but you proved it today...um, quite well, in fact."
Emily felt her face break into a ridiculous smile. In the last 20 minutes, she had tested a theory, killed a Wraith, been hugged by the Major and received an apology from Rodney McKay. Maybe this wasn't such a bad job after all. Now if she could just talk to Teyla about her hair.