Futura Memoratia

Chapter 3 resistere (resist)

Rodney shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying not to scratch at the gazillions of tiny insect bites covering his forearms and lower legs.  He was stuck in the large conference room for an afternoon of long, boring meetings.  First had been the mission debriefing about that morning’s mission.  John told Elizabeth about the hot, sweaty, fruitless trek across a prairie to an abandoned Ancient outpost—which was completely empty.  Someone had dismantled it and carted off all the technology years ago.

On the way back to the gate, Rodney had stumbled over an insect mound, hidden in the dense, tall grass, and had been immediately swarmed by a low-flying, black cloud of some kind of malevolent, biting, ant-like insect.  Their bites burned like fire and he had unwittingly screamed like a little girl, firing into the mound with his P-90, which enraged them even more, until he finally outran them or they lost interest in the chase—he wasn’t sure which.  Ronon and John were having a field-day at his expense now, snickering and snarking and even Teyla was trying hard to keep a straight face.  Her normally serious expression occasionally giving way to a hint of amusement.  

They would have been very sorry if he’d gone into anaphylactic shock.  Luckily for all of them, he hadn’t reacted to the bites like he would have to bee venom.  He decided he’d better start keeping an epi-pen in his tac vest from now on, though, just in case.  

Carson wasn’t any help.  He gave him some worthless cream and sent him on his way.  Rodney suppressed a groan and cringed.  He hoped he wasn’t in for any nasty surprises from the bites.  God, he hated biology.  It was so revoltingly messy—not neat and tidy and intellectual like physics.  He could go a lifetime without seeing another bug and be perfectly happy, never missing them.  He considered throwing that in Sheppard’s face, but consoled himself with the knowledge that he was being the bigger man.

“Do you have anything to add, Rodney?” Elizabeth asked.  

She, at least, wasn’t laughing.

He glared at John and Ronon.  “No, no.  They said enough,” he grit out.

“Ok.  Teyla, Ronon, could you please send in Dr. Beckett for the senior staff meeting?”

They nodded and escaped, Ronon patting him on the shoulder with an amused look on his face, before walking out.

Then he had to sit and listen as Carson droned on about medical supplies, what they needed and what they could spare in trade, as Elizabeth made notes.  Then he went through all the injuries and illnesses over the last week and how his numerous patients were recovering from their tedious afflictions.  

Then it was John’s turn.  He was thankfully more succinct, outlining their supply of munitions.  There weren’t any impending threats hanging over their heads, so John didn’t have much to say.  They talked for a while about the rumors that there was some super-hero running rampant through the galaxy, saving people from local raiders and killing Wraith.  Elizabeth told John to pin down where this super-hero hailed from so they could go check it out.  

Then Elizabeth brought up the archeologist that had recently come through from Earth. 

“Mm.  Fainty McPuke’s-a-lot?” he murmured with a smirk.  But Elizabeth frowned and Carson rebuked him.  So he sighed and listened to them talk with arms folded, surreptitiously scratching whenever he could.  The itch was maddening.

Carson said he’d released her from observation after twenty-four hours and that she had recovered quickly from her trip through the intergalactic bridge.  He said he couldn’t find anything in all the testing he’d done that would indicate why she had such a reaction to gate travel.

“Hello.  It’s psychosomatic,” Rodney put in.

“Well, that’s what the doctors on Earth thought, but I’m not so sure.  The way she describes her trip through the void is quite detailed—poetic even.  I think there must be something to her story.”