After half an hour of having her identity checked out, Rhea was more than a little pissed off. In the past few days she'd been spewed out of a silly wormhole onto another planet, made a damn good attempt at drowning herself, scared the living bejeesus out of every man and his dog by poncing around in her birthday suit, lost nearly fifteen years off her looks without the aid of a surgeon and had her butt hawled to security because of it! What was next? Goanna's singing 'New York, New York' and dancing the Charleston?? Or even worse, her father break-dancing for packed house at Madison Square Gardens???
"God must hate me an awful lot," she muttered as she slipped into the labs, trying not to be noticed by her colleagues. Fat chance.
"Doc?" Matt asked, spotting her from over where he was inoculating some blood agar.
Trying to make a joke of it in an effort to cheer herself up, Rhea clapped her hands over her face and turned away. "Don't look at me, I'm hideous," she whimpered.
"Funny, you looked pretty good to me," Jeanne Oake, the virologist, said from her bench, where she looked like she was setting up a PCR.
"Yeah well, I was pretty hot for a fifteen-year-old." Rhea took her hands away and shrugged at the shocked looks on everyone's faces. "Ta-da?"
"The nanocytes did that to you?" Matt asked, sounding half-amazed and half-amused.
"Yeah, ain't it wonderful?" she replied wryly. "Those lovely little things quite happily returned me to my peak condition." She paused. "I don't know if I should feel insulted that that was at age fifteen or not."
"I know some women who'd pay good money to be in your shoes," Julia Marks commented from the small group of people that had gathered around her.
"They're quite welcome to them, if they can fit them. I do take a size ten-B after all," Rhea quipped as she shrugged on her lab coat and tied the cords up behind her back. "What've we got of the boiler?"
"Well, we got an unknown from a lieutenant complaining of feeling 'like a sack of shit' as he put it," Nick said, handing her a swab. "Nasal."
"Sounds like a man after my own heart," she murmured. "What else?"
"Sore throat, malaise. It'll be a strep."
"Probably group B. Doctor put him on a broad spec?"
"Yep." Nick watched as Rhea handed Matt the swab and followed her into her office. Shutting the door, he took a seat on the other side of her desk. "Are you cleared to return?"
"Not in so many words," she replied, picking up a folder from her 'in' tray.
"Are you sure you're up to this?"
Rhea sighed (she was sighing a lot that day). "Nick, just because I look like a bit of a kid doesn't mean I'm not still the same annoying, overbearing twit. I just want to get back to work," she said pointedly. "Please?"
Nick grinned. "Okay. Its not like I could stop you if I tried."
"Thanks." She watched pensively as he left her office, before putting the folder onto the desk. Giving into a moment of weakness, she dropped her head into her hands and sighed again. After a time like this, things had to start looking up or else she was well and truly screwed...

Well, today I had a little accident. Actually, it was a bit more than a little accident - I got sprung trying to sneak off base. I don't believe this, I'm into my fourth decade and I'm sneaking around the place. But I wouldn't have been caught if it hadn't been for one Dr Daniel Jackson... Oh, if looks could have killed I would've been in the slammer before I could say 'Rose Hancock-Porteous'....

The next thing she knew, the trio were just entering the infirmary. //I must've passed out... *Passed out*?!// she thought.
"What sems to be the problem seargent?" Janet said, looking up from another patient. "Rhea? What happened."
"We had a little fender-bender," the other driver explained as she was lain on a bed.
Janet raised an eyebrow. "Fender-bender? That would imply that you were in a car young lady," she addressed Rhea, who had to resist the urge to start behaving like a kid who'd been caught with their hand in a biscuit tin.
"Oh get stuffed Janet. Besides, I missed my babies," she said.
"Babies? You have children? Oh God," the man, Dr Jackson or whoever he damn well was, said.
"No, she has pets," Janet replied, flashing a light into Rhea's eyes to check the pupillary reflex. "How's the head?"
"Better. My itty-bitty mates must've finished the job while I was off with the fairies. Probably had to fix a couple of neurons 'cos of the impact with my head." Rhea fidgeted, wanting to get the hell away from the disappointment she could literally feel wafting off the doctor. She didn't know why - she was only going against her's and the general's orders that she stay on base.
"I can already see a scar, so you're probably right. Thanks for catching her out Daniel." Janet replaced the penlight in the pocket of her lab coat.
"That's okay, I think." Rhea heard the confusion in Jackson's voice. He was obviously one of the few people who didn't know about her unusual circumstances.
"Now, you're going to stay put for a couple of hours while you heal up properly, then we're going to have a little chat about following orders," Janet said in a tone that brook no arguments.
Unable to help herself, Rhea flopped back onto the bed, crossed her arms across her chest and huffed a loud sigh. "I don't have much of a choice," she said petulantly.
"No you don't. Daniel, could you just re-park her car for me? You both can sort out insurance or whatever tomorrow morning." She lead the man away from the bed and out of earshot.

God, I need some sleep, I'm beginning to sound like a five-year-old.

Well, I've had a fun time of being confined to base for the past few days... Life is just peachy - nothing happening in the lab, nothing happening anywhere. I just wish something'd happen just to spice things up a little!

Major John Phillips just about collapsed as he stepped onto the platform on the other side of the gate. Faintly, he heard a dull thud as one of the team actually did.
"Medical team to the embarkation room!" he heard a voice squawk over the PA system. He felt rough hands on his shoulders as someone, probably one of the security officers tried to stop him from keeling over.
Those hands were soon replaced by those of a nurse. "How are you feeling?" he asked in a brusque tone.
"Like death warmed up," Phillips managed to get out before he too joined his teammates in oblivion.

"We've got some blood for you to look at," a nurse from the infirmary said as he entered the lab.
Rhea looked up. "Symptoms?"
"Fever, headaches, fatigue. At least, that's all we could get out of them before they passed out." He handed over the vials, which were in a rack. "We might be able to give you something more specific when they come round."
"Okay. We'll see what we can do and get back to you. Thanks."
"Those symptoms could mean anything," Matt said softly as Rhea placed the rack on the bench.
"I know. That's why we're going to check for everything." She huffed a sigh. "Let's just pray it's pneumonia or something. Jeanne!"
"Yeah?" The virologist poked her head around the set of shelves separating her section from bacteriology.
"We got something for you to do m'dear. Hope you weren't too busy." Rhea separated four of the blood samples and handed them over.
"Symptomology?"
"The usual non-specific."
"Gee, helpful. I'll see what I can do." Jeanne paused and looked at Rhea. "Actually, how long has it been since you've done any NA probes?"
"Geez, haven't done them too often! I'm ready, willing and able to give you a hand." She handed the samples she'd singled out for bacteriology to Matt and gave him the usual instructions to plate them on every media known to science. "Well, shall we?"
Jeanne grinned. "Let's."

Two hours later, the two scientists' moods weren't nearly so blase.
"This isn't happening," Jeanne whispered. "This just can't be possible."
"We have to get Hammond on the blower," Rhea stated flatly. Her colleague nodded and followed her to the phone they kept tucked in the sample processing section. Pulling off her gloves, Rhea flipped the receiver into her hand and started dialling the internal number for General Hammond's office.
"General Hammond," the deep voice on the other hand answered after barely one ring - he must've just about been sitting on the phone.
"Sir, I want you to order a complete lockdown of the base immediately."
"May I ask who's speaking?" came the patient reply.
"This is Dr Rheannon O'Shea from the base pathology laboratory. Sir, this isn't a time to be asking silly questions, please order the lockdown."
"Why?"
"I will explain why after you give the order, there just isn't the time." Rhea knew she was the last person who should be telling an Air Force major-general what to do, but this time she had the authority. "Please sir, believe me when I say this is a matter of life or death."
Hammond sighed noisily on the other end. "I'll make the order, but I want to see you in my office pronto - understood?"
"Yes sir, I'm there yesterday." Rhea slammed down the receiver, grabbed Jeanne and the folder containing the results print-out and dashed from the room.
She arrived at Hammond's office roughly five minutes later - puffed and nearly deaf from the announcement of the security lockdown on the base.
"Right, now what's going on?" the general demanded before either of the women had really had a chance to catch their breath.
"Sir, SG-3 have brought back what we believe to be a fatal virus from whatever planet they went to," Jeanne said breathlessly.
"Fatal virus? What sort of fatal virus?" He leant forward and rested his elbows on his desk.
"Sir, from what testing we've done, this virus is similar to Ebola," Rhea explained, looking somber.
"You mean...?"
"Yes, sir, haemorrhagic fever," Jeanne confirmed. "Fatal within two weeks of exposure."
Hammond digested this information silently for a moment. "What can we do aside from ensuring that it isn't spread."
"Sir, there is no known cure for Ebola. But like we said, this virus is only similar to Ebola and as such we may have something we can work with. But we didn't do more tests than required to confirm some of the virus' nucleic acid characteristics." Rhea gnawed on her bottom lip. "Sir, SG-3 contracted the illness a max of two days ago, and without finding some form of workable treatment... we may already be dying."

"Where is she?" Rhea growled through gritted teeth. "Christ Janet, we need you *now*!"
"She'll come as soon as she's done with the medical emergency," Jeanne tried to placate het, even though she was more than a little frustrated too at the non-appearance of the head of SGC medical.
"I'll give her a bloody emergency." She knew she was being unreasonable about things. After all, whoever she wass with had some sort of mind-controlling parasite according to what the nurse had said. But they had a virus on their hands that could wipe out millions within days. Talk about your Armagheddon. "Look, we know this thing has an incubation period of roughly two days, right? So we've got roughly that much time's grace before we've got our own people keeling over left, right and centre."
"Right," Jeanne agreed with a nod of her head. "But that isn't enough time to do much of anything. We need at least a week to do some in depth study."
"Well, we're just gonna have to work around the clock."
"I'm here," Janet said from the doorway into Rhea's office.
"Thank the thousand little Gods," she exclaimed, standing up. "Look I don't know what you've been told, but we've got a slight problem-"
"Why didn't you contact the Tok'ra?" she demanded before she got to finish her sentence.
"Excuse me?" Rhea was a little flabbergasted at such a cryptic remark.
"The Tok'ra should be able to help us," the brunette stated flatly.
Rhea bit back a very rude phrase and took a deep breath. "Look, I don't know who these bloody Tok'ra are," she advanced to stand before her friend, "but right now, I don't think even God's going to be able to help us!" She noticed how much she towered over her and stepped backwards. The last thing she wanted to do was seem threatening.
"Okay, maybe we should get in touch with them... somehow," Janet said with a sigh.
"What do you mean 'somehow'?" Jeanne asked. She'd obviously never heard of these Tok'ra before either.
"They tend to move around a bit. I'm sure SG-1 will have a clue what to do." She finally sat down in the spare seat. "What have you thought of so far."
"Sweet FA," Rhea replied. "Beyond the fact that we're just about screwed if the incubation period's a short as we think it is."
"What about Acyclovir?"
"And that," Jeanne added. "But we're going to have to administer it to every single person on the base. Probably with the whole gamut of anti-viral drugs we can lay our hands on."
"God," Janet breathed, rubbing her temples with her fingertips. "We've got hundreds of people here. Thousands even. You're right, we're screwed."
"Maybe not," Rhea said slowly. "I know there's something I'm missing." She thumped the heel of her hand against the top of her desk. "Damn! It's right there on the tip of my tongue."
"Well, you keep thinking while I go and see what sorts of drugs we've got on hand. It's not like we can order in any more if we're short... At least, not without a lot of hassle." Nodding to them both, Janet stood up and left the room.
"Jeanne," Rhea piped up in the ensuing silence. "I'll give you the number of one of my CDC colleagues who's been specialising in Ebola for as long as I can think. Just see if you can find out anything he knows that he hasn't had published yet. Just tell him you work with me, that you aren't researching it yourself and you shouldn't have too many problems."
"Right," she answered, taking the piece of paper with the phone number Rhea'd scribbled on it.
After she'd left, Rhea leant back in her chair and tried to think of what it was that wass tickling at the back of her mind. Something was telling her that it could be the answer they wanted - if only she could think of it.

Rhea yawned and stretched out the kinks in her back. She'd just spent the past... too many hours trying to figure out what to do about a virus that she couldn't even begin to characterise. It was no help that most of her staff were beginning to show the symptoms of having contracted the damned thing - as was most of the base. By some miracle of God, Janet had managed to get her hot little hands on the entire collection of anti-viral drugs from just about every military base within the state - and from outside it too. Poor thing, she and her staff were overrun with having to inoculate every person on the base. Rhea could only thank her lucky stars that first, no-one had left the base between SG-3 coming home and them making a pseudo-diagnosis - and secondly, that she didn't seem to be showing any symptoms of the disease.
"You need sleep," Jeanne said, even though she looked like your proverbial living dead.
"I'm fine," Rhea protested weakly, taking a moutful of her nearly freezing coffee. She'd told the biohazard rules where they could shove themselves over ten hours ago when she'd begun to nod off over the preparation of a NA probe reaction. After all, you had to die from something - why not something that she worked with every day?
"At least have a shower," her colleague suggested. "It'll wake you up."
"If I don't keel over before then..." She rubbed her eyes and slowly stood up. "Okay, I'll take you up on it, but only if you go and have one too."
"I'm not about to argue. Matt!" she called to the assistant, who was poring through all the information they had about Ebola and it's relatives. "We're taking a break!"
He gave them a thumbs up without looking up from the thick reference book that he was cross-referencing with the CDC database. Jeanne shrugged and lead the way out of the lab, just dumping her coat outside the door. Right now, no-one really gave two hoots about whatever nasties they might have been carrying around the place.
Once they were in the locker room - usually the exclusive domain of the SG teams and other military personnel - Rhea made a beeline for the nearest mirror. She was unsurprised to note the exceptionally dark shadows under her eyes, they were nearly as black as the irises themselves. She scraped the loose strands of hair off her face and had a surreptitious look for wrinkles. None, just like the day before. And the day before that. And the day before that...
"EUREKA!" she yelled, spinning to face Jeanne (who was in the process of scraping herself off the ceiling she'd gotten such a fright). "I've found it, I've found the bloody answer!"
"Huh?" was all the other scientist got out before Rhea was out of the room and down the hallway...

7th August, 2000

I can't believe I'd actually forgotten about my little friends! Geez, every time I look in the mirror I'm reminded of what they can do! Just give me an award for being the blindest so-and-so for a thirty mile radius!

Any comments or suggestions...?