Eternal thanks to my beta'er NebbyJ! Her patience, encouragement, and sense of humor has been the only thing keeping me from climbing the walls during this whole process.
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BETTER THE DEVIL YOU KNOW by emergencyfan
Weir sensed something was wrong as she descended the steps towards the Stargate. She watched as the team appeared though the wormhole from planet M3H-127, their hair and jackets covered with a light dusting of snow. They seemed smaller somehow. Tears were running openly down Teyla's cheeks. Ford looked positively shaken. Sheppard's expression was one of barely concealed anger while McKay's face was a mask of stone.
"What happened?" she asked.
Sheppard ignored her question. "Teyla, why don't you go on to the infirmary for your post-mission check? You too, Ford." As Teyla hugged her jacket more tightly around herself and walked away, dazed, Sheppard put a hand on his Lieutenant's arm causing him to pause. "Keep an eye on her."
Ford nodded in reply and looked a little less shaken. Having orders to follow helped give him focus. He was prepared to follow orders. He hadn't been prepared for what had awaited him on the planet. He turned to follow the Athosian.
Weir turned to Sheppard again, raising one eyebrow; inviting an explanation but not demanding. Not yet.
Sheppard rubbed his face tiredly. "The planet had already been culled. Weeks ago."
She waited patiently. Teyla was used to such things. That alone wouldn't have had such an impact on the Athosian, or the rest of the team.
He choked out angrily, "They took everyone over the age of two or three." He left to follow Ford and Teyla.
She knew she was missing something vital and looked to McKay.
The scientist spoke without any emotion in his voice, his face still expressionless. "They only left the babies, Elizabeth. They might have been okay for two or three days, but not weeks." He turned to follow the rest of his team, shoulders slumping.
Now she understood. The scenario played out in her mind: children - toddlers and infants, suddenly orphaned. How long had the food and water lasted? How many three-year olds could build a fire or care for an infant? How many days had they cried for their mothers before they succumbed to starvation, dehydration, or exposure?
She had postponed the debriefing until the next morning's department meeting. A good night's sleep had had the desired affect on the team, giving them time to get a little perspective on the situation. Teyla seemed sorrowful but composed and the rest of the team had been able to distance themselves from what they had seen and report objectively, or at least they were all doing a good job of pretending.
Sheppard shifted in his chair. "It doesn't make any sense. Why would the Wraith wipe out the settlement like that? If nothing else, it's bad..." he searched for a better reference but couldn't find one "...livestock management."
"Maybe they were too inexperienced. Maybe they were punishing the people on that planet for something. Who knows?" said Weir. She poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table.
"Maybe they were starving and lost control," suggested Beckett, grimly.
Sheppard responded, "Now there's a frightening thought."
"They weren't frightening enough before?" asked McKay, incredulously.
Sheppard shot him an irritated look. "I just meant that, before, we were at least dealing with a reasoning entity." At Teyla's angry look, he clarified, "Not that I think they're being reasonable, just that they are following a certain logic which they now seem to have abandoned. A whole new set of rules and we hadn't even figured out what all the old ones were yet." A pall settled over the conference room at that thought.
Beckett cleared his throat, "Should we send a burial detail?" He hastened to add, "I'm sure some of my people would be willing to go."
Teyla was pounding her field shovel into the frozen clay, making little if any impact. Sheppard knelt down beside her and grabbed her wrist, causing her to pause, somewhat dazed."The ground's frozen, Teyla, we'll never be able to dig out enough with our field shovels," he said, gently. She gave him a shattered look but said nothing.
"We can't just leave them here, Sir," said Ford.
Sheppard hesitated.
"We'll cremate them," said McKay, uncharacteristically quiet.
John shot him a grateful glance.
They gathered up all the small fragile forms, wrapping them in what blankets they could find and laying them inside one of the thatched buildings. Teyla fashioned a torch and laid it against the edge of the building. She watched as the fire licked up the sides, then threw the torch down and walked towards the Stargate without a backward glance. Ford followed her a few seconds later. McKay and Sheppard waited a little longer, until the flames licked skyward. John turned, meeting Rodney's eyes, and in mutual agreement they left to join their teammates as a light snow began to fall.
"There's no need," said Sheppard, quietly. "We took care of it."
"Very well," said Weir, closing an obviously painfully subject for the moment. "I believe you had some handouts, Major?"
Sheppard spun the copies across the slick table to each person. "They're military hand signals. I'd like all the department heads to post these and to make sure their people memorize them. I've just included the bare basics."
"Is this really necessary," whined Kavanagh.
Sheppard fought for patience and managed to answer pleasantly, "I hope not, but if the Wraith invade Atlantis..."
"I agree," said Weir, backing him up. "There's certainly no harm in it, and it could prove useful." She looked around at the various department heads and found herself surprised by the intense look on Carson's face.
"Dr. Beckett?" When he didn't respond immediately, she tried again a little more loudly, "Carson?"
He continued to stare strangely at the paper. "It's blurry."
Weir frowned slightly and shot a bemused glance at Sheppard.
"It's been copied a few times," the Major explained. "This is probably the third or fourth generation."
"Copies are never as good as the originals," the doctor said half to himself.
"I can get you a clearer copy if you need it," Sheppard said uncertainly.
"What?" asked Beckett, shaken out of his reverie. "Oh, no, sorry son, this is fine."
"Okaaay," Elizabeth shuffled the papers in front of her. "Next topic..."
Most of the morning meeting's attendees had decided to go to the mess hall for lunch before returning to their departments, with the exception of Teyla whom Markham had ferried over to the mainland. McKay and Beckett were most of the way through their meal, their long-standing argument gaining a familiar momentum. As if sensing impending doom, the others had found tables elsewhere in the mess hall.
"No, Rodney." Beckett crossed his arms obstinately.
"Why not?" asked McKay, his irritation plainly visible.
"I told you, I'm no good with technology."
"That's a load of bull. You use medical technology all the time."
"Why can't you find someone else?" asked the Scot, his own irritation level increasing rapidly. "I do have my own research, you know!"
"Why do you always have to be such a big baby about it, Carson?"
"I nearly killed six people the first time I used the chair, Rodney."
"But you didn't."
"But I could have. I missed the people in the elevator, including Dr. Weir, by just a few inches. Not to mention everyone else on the base and Major Sheppard and General O'Neill."
"But. You. Didn't."
Beckett tried a different tack. "Look, it's akin to me asking you to...to stitch up someone's arm. You might be able to, in an emergency, but you wouldn't want to do it over and over, and you probably wouldn't do a very good job at it."
That struck an unpleasant cord, bringing back memories of the Genii with a vengeance. Without thinking McKay said, "It's not like medicine can't be used as a weapon."
Beckett's face turned to stone and Rodney mentally kicked himself - the Hoffans. Why did he have to go and bring that up? "Look...uh...Carson..." But the doctor was already leaving with his tray in hand. Rodney watched helplessly as Beckett deposited the tray in the designated area and left the mess hall.
"Open mouth, insert foot," Sheppard quipped, putting his full tray bravely on the table. He had apparently entered in time to hear the end of the argument.
"Shut up!" McKay rose briskly and returned his own empty tray before leaving the mess hall. He stood indecisively in the corridor a moment. A left would take him to the infirmary, a right to his lab. He sighed, not having any idea what he would say to Carson anyway and made a right.
"Okay you lab rats, playtime is over, get to work," he barked, entering the lab. Slamming Sheppard's handout on the wall, he snapped his fingers impatiently until someone put a tape dispenser in his hand. "I want everyone to know all of these by the end of the week!"
Those who were talking or drinking coffee stopped and went to their stations. Those who were already working became more industrious. McKay in his regular mood was bad enough. A root canal sans anesthesia was preferable to McKay in a bad mood. Settling at his station, Rodney bent to the boring task of skimming through various reports, pausing on the third one. "Jameson you have a typo in your report," he barked loudly.
"Sir?" responded the young woman from a station across the lab, looking confused and not a little fearful at acquiring the undivided attention of their demanding department head.
"You have here," he said, pointing to a line in the report even though she was obviously too far away to read the print, "That you're going to expose your naquadah sample to two point five percent radiation." When she shook her head still puzzled, he added, "You've misplaced your decimal it's supposed to be POINT two five percent." As a look of shock and horror that appeared on her face he suddenly realized what had happened. "Are you crazy?" he yelled, dropping the files and running towards her station, but it was too late. An overwhelmingly blinding flash of light and heat was followed instantly by utter darkness.
When the darkness finally receded, Rodney found himself lying on the floor. Keiko, her face smudged with dirt, was pressing something against his forehead and crying. He shifted slightly, grimacing, as the throbbing in his head grew more intense. She helped him sit up against the wall.
The lab looked like a war zone. He could hear static and someone talking in his ear and realized his radio was still intact, but chose to ignore it for the moment. "It's okay," he told her, reaching up to feel the gauze she was pressing against his forehead. He continued to look around dizzily, taking stock. "Go check on Radek," he encouraged her, seeing the Czech leaning painfully against the table, clutching his arm. He slipped his fingers under hers to hold the gauze in place as she nodded and turned to follow his orders.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to get his bearings before turning his attention to the radio. God, his head was pounding. "Elizabeth?" he paged, weakly.
"Rodney! What happened?"
"An explosion in the lab."
"What caused it?"
"A decimal place," he answered tiredly after a moment's thought.
"A what?"
"Nevermind."
"Peter's working on getting the bulkheads to retract. We'll have someone there in a few minutes."
"How bad are things there, Rodney?" asked Beckett, breaking into their conversation.
McKay leaned forward a bit and craned his neck for a look around, seeing the ambulatory helping the more severely injured. The first aid kit was open but not yet empty. "We're pretty banged up but I don't think another few minutes will kill any of us." He felt another wave of dizziness and the lightheaded feeling was increasing rapidly. Leaning back against the wall did nothing to ease the disjointed feeling. "Hold on, I'm going to have to give you to Jones." He waved over a dazed but apparently uninjured technician and pressed the radio into his hand. He felt himself sliding back to the floor as darkness quickly overtook him.
The soldier pulls out a knife and Kolya steps nearer. He backs up until the back of his knees hit a chair. A shove from Kolya forces him to sit abruptly. He grabs the arms on the chair, more for comfort than balance. Kolya bends down and quickly clamps his wrists to the arm of the chair. The soldier approaches with the knife.
"Tell me about your plan to save the city, McKay," Kolya says, only an inch away from his face.
He tries again to deny that there is one but can't seem to speak.
Kolya nods at the soldier who rests the knife lightly on his forearm. Without warning, the man slices it across his sleeve. At first, he doesn't think it's passed through both his jacket and shirt, but suddenly he feels a trail of fire across his arm and he knows.
"The plan, Dr. McKay."
He is terrified but clamps his teeth together. He doesn't want to let them down - Weir or Sheppard.
Kolya nods at the soldier again who poises the knife for another strike. "That cut will heal. However, I can easily cause nerve damage that I suspect not even your advanced medicine will be able to overcome. How about it, Doctor? Shall I cripple both your hands, turning them into ineffective claws?"
"I won't be very useful to you after that," he says defiantly, though the tremor of fear in his voice is obvious.
"Perhaps I should just cut out one eye. It would limit your depth perception but you'd still be useful to the Genii." At his nervous swallow, Koyla nods to the soldier who brings the knife to rest between his eyes. "Your choice, Doctor, left eye or right eye."
He breaks. "Alright, fine, I'll tell you, but it's not going to help you."
"I'll be the judge of that."
Rodney jerked awake to see Beckett kneeling beside him and realized the grip on his wrist must be from the Scot's fingers. "Hey, Carson," he said quietly, struggling to calm himself in response to the doctor's concerned glance at his sudden, almost violent, return to consciousness and racing heartbeat. Propping himself up slightly on one elbow despite the physician's protest, he looked around the devastated lab and was surprised to see it full of medical personnel attending to his people. Some were missing; he presumed they were already on the way to the infirmary. "That was fast," he acknowledged before letting Beckett ease him back down.
"Actually, it took us a bit longer than we thought," replied the physician, peeling back the bandage on the scientist's head and probing around the wound deftly before patting the gauze back down. "Gave yourself quite a knock." He drew out his penlight. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"I..." McKay winced as the bright light was shown first in one eye and then the other. "I don't think so."
Beckett clipped the penlight back into his coat pocket and gave the scientist a thoughtful look. "Maybe we'd better be sure about that." He ran his hands over McKay checking him quickly and thoroughly for other injuries.
"Aside from some bruises and minor burns, you appear to be in one piece." He pulled out a blood pressure cuff and began wrapping it around the scientist's left arm; head close to the gauge to better read the numbers in the dim emergency lighting.
Rodney reached out with his right hand and hesitated before tentatively resting it on the doctor's arm.
Beckett flashed him an inquisitive glance, pulling the stethoscope out of his ears.
"I wanted to say that I was...that I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't mean what I said about medicine being a weapon." At Beckett's speculative look he continued, "Okay, I did mean it but not like that, not..." he paused, afraid he might say the wrong thing again.
"That I was to blame for what happened to the Hoffans?" He sighed. "It's okay, Rodney."
He dropped his hand but held Carson's gaze.
"It's less what you said and more my own guilt that made me react that way," Beckett assured him. The Velcro made a ripping noise as he removed the blood pressure cuff and packed it back into his bag. "I didn't mean to remind you, either," he said, tilting his head towards the scar on the scientist's arm.
Rodney put that reference firmly out of his mind and changed the subject. "What about my rats?" he asked, closing his eyes against the steadily increasing pounding of his head.
Beckett frowned in concern, "Rats?" He knew the biologists had their own lab elsewhere on this floor. This lab was strictly for the physicists.
Rodney struggled to open his eyes and swung his hand in the general direction of the room, "My lab rats. Always digging into things? Wear white coats? Keep the place running?"
Carson smiled in relief. "Oh. There are some serious injuries," he said, looking around at the organized chaos of his medical team. "Jameson took the worst of the explosion and we're watching her closely, but I think everyone will recover."
"Good," replied McKay, closing his eyes again. When he opened them again, he was surprised to find himself looking up at some sort of gleaming medical device poised above him.
"There's no sign of intracranial bleeding."
Beckett's voice, he realized. He gingerly turned his head and saw the backs of Elizabeth and Sheppard staring at a monitor as the physician pointed out various things and realized he had been moved to an exam room.
He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and go back to sleep but something nagged at him. He forced himself to ignore the blinding headache and tried to tease it out of his mind. It didn't take him long and he cautiously rolled off the MRI table, struggling to swallow down the nausea and force his rubbery legs to obey.
"Here, now, Rodney." Beckett grabbed his arm and eased him back against the table. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Lab," the scientist managed to gasp.
"The lab's trashed, McKay," said Sheppard. His tone clearly said he didn't think the scientist was aware of what had just happened.
"I know that," he snapped in reply. "I'm not brain-damaged or weren't you paying attention to Carson's little presentation? I need to get back there."
"Later, Rodney. In a couple of days," the doctor admonished.
"I need to go back there now!" Raising his voice caused a new wave of pain to shoot through his skull. He closed his eyes and put a hand on his aching head, hissing when his fingers brushed the bandage.
"You're not going anywhere except a bed in the infirmary," Beckett said, still holding the scientist's arm firmly.
"You don't understand." Rodney swallowed down another wave of nausea and leaned back heavily against the table. "I need to check on some experiments."
"It can wait, Rodney," said Weir, stepping in to back up Beckett.
"No, Elizabeth, it can't," he repeated more firmly, annoyance creeping into his tone. "Not unless you want to risk dealing with more of the same. Some of the projects may have been damaged, even unstable. I need to make sure everything's been safely shut down."
Beckett chewed his lip in indecision. "We can send Jones."
Rodney started to shake his head but quickly thought better of it. "Jones only knows what Jones's team is working on. I'm department head, I know what everyone is working on," he argued. Seeing Beckett weakening, he added, "It'll take ten, fifteen minutes, tops."
Sheppard made his way to the physicist's side. "I'll babysit him if it will make you feel better, Doc."
"Not especially," the doctor replied dryly.
Sheppard took mock offense, "What you do you mean by that?"
"When the two of you get together, you don't get double trouble, you get trouble squared," the Scot explained.
His patience at an end, McKay lashed out sarcastically. "Carson, while I am truly fascinated by your ability to pull mathematical syllogisms out of your proverbial ass, there's the little problem of...oh, I don't know...another imminent disaster."
Beckett pursed his lips, visibly unhappy at being forced into the decision. "Fifteen minutes?"
"Tops," confirmed McKay.
"Alright, wait here a minute." He disappeared, only to reappear a few seconds later with a loaded syringe. Swabbing McKay's arm, he injected the contents. "It'll help with the nausea."
"Thanks."
Beckett and Sheppard each grabbed an arm, making sure he was firmly on his feet. The Scot released him at the door but not before shooting a warning glance at Sheppard before it closed.
"I'm not some helpless granny," snapped McKay as they walked to the lab. He stopped and tried to pull his arm out of the major's grasp but failed.
"You're listing, McKay," said Sheppard patiently.
"I'm what?"
"You're listing," he repeated and leaned slightly to the left to demonstrate. "About twenty degrees or so."
Rodney made a concentrated effort to stand straight. "Better?"
"You're still off by about ten degrees." The major renewed his grip on the scientist's arm as they started back down the corridor.
Sheppard bounced impatiently on his heels while McKay made yet another circuit around the lab, double and triple checking that everything was accounted for and anything potentially dangerous had been deactivated. John had already done all he could possibly do to speed up the process, man-handling debris out of the way when needed. Rodney was getting paler by the minute and he could see the scientist's hands were shaking.
"I think that's everything," said McKay after one last look.
"Finally! We've already been gone fifteen minutes and Beckett will have my hide..."
"Major..." came a dangerously low burr over the radio.
"We're on our way back, right now," said Sheppard firmly. He grabbed McKay's arm despite the scientist's protest and steered him through the rubble back into the hallway. Halfway back the infirmary they had to pause when Rodney was overcome by a wave of dizziness, stopping to lean against the wall.
"You gonna make it, McKay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I just need a minute," replied the scientist as he waved him off.
Sheppard watched for a minute then reached for his radio to call Beckett.
"Don't," said McKay, pushing himself off the wall. "He's got enough people to worry about at the moment." He didn't resist this time when the major took his arm.
By the time they made it back and Sheppard helped the scientist into a bed, McKay was ashen and shaky. Beckett's eyes shot daggers at the major and he took the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat while the doctor was busy reassessing his patient's condition.
Late the next morning, a loud 'pssst' caught Rodney's attention. He looked up to see Sheppard peeking in the infirmary doorway. The major gave him a quick hand signal: Clear? "He's asleep," the scientist confirmed in a stage whisper, waving the man in. "He was up all night with Jameson."
"I thought I should lie low for awhile," explained Sheppard, hopping up to sit on the edge of McKay's bed and swinging his legs to and fro energetically.
McKay winced at the major's enthusiastic show of vitality. "Did you come here for a reason?"
"Just to give you this," Sheppard said innocently, pulling out a laptop he had hidden under his jacket. He jerked it away when McKay snatched at it like an eager child. "Only if you promise not to go charging back down to the lab."
"We've got important projects down there, Major."
"I know, but give yourself some time to recuperate. Bates has it locked up tighter than a drum. Only he, Weir, and you have access. It'll be there when you feel up to it. In the meantime, you can stay here and play with this," he said, handing over the laptop.
"Why suddenly so solicitous of my health, Major?" he asked with narrowed eyes.
Sheppard gave the scientist a frank look. "Because you look like shit, McKay."
"I feel pretty good," he replied, too surprised to take offense. "You know, considering. Beckett finally approved some painkillers now that he's sure my brain isn't going to start leaking out of my ears."
John smirked in response. "Just imagine how you must have looked yesterday, then. You scared the crap outta me when you almost fainted on the way back from the lab."
McKay's jaw tightened at the wording but he let it pass. "I don't really remember much after we left the lab," he confessed.
"You got all gray and gaspy-like. I'm not surprised Beckett considers me persona non-gratis for the duration of your stay." As if afraid the mere mention of the doctor's name would cause the Scot to appear, he hopped back off the bed and started to leave.
"Wait'll he finds out you brought me my laptop," called McKay.
"That's our little secret," warned Sheppard, glancing anxiously towards the infirmary office. "He finds out and my ass is grass, so mums the word. You too, Zelenka," he added, seeing the Czech watching them from the bed next to Rodney's.
"Mm se dob?e, d?kuji," replied the scientist in a sarcastic tone before adjusting his sling and leaning back to close his eyes.
Sheppard looked to McKay, "Is that a 'yes' or a 'no'?"
"I have no idea. He hasn't said a word in English since the accident. Beckett can't decide if it's some lingering effect of his head injury, shock, or just obstinacy."
Two days later, Beckett had released the majority of his patients, several with the condition they take it easy. McKay, anxious to start piecing together the remains of his lab, had already been working for an hour when Sheppard appeared. Other scientists and technicians periodically went in and out transporting their projects to a new lab located nearby. Some were busily trying to cannibalize what materials they could from the projects that were unsalvageable. More than one looked close to tears at the scope of the destruction.
"I thought Beckett released you to light duty?" scolded Sheppard.
"What are you, my mother?" McKay grumped. He was already tired but there was so much to do; months of hard work, gone in an instant.
Sheppard gave Zelenka a light clap on the back. "How ya feeling, Doc?"
"Nen mi dob?e i bol m? hlava," said the Czech, wincing miserably.
Sheppard frowned and looked to Rodney for translation but the astrophysicist was busy scraping debris out of his way so he could get to something. "Well...um...sorry to hear that. Hang in there." John walked up behind Rodney and leaned over his shoulder feigning interest until the scientist noticed him and gave him an exasperated look. "Look McKay, why don't you let me draft some of my guys to help?" He cut off the scientist's sarcastic comment before it could form on his lips. "They can at least move some of the heavy stuff around for you."
Rodney looked around at all the debris, torn between the help of extra hands and having the military equivalent of oxen plowing through in his lab. "I supposed that might not be a bad idea," he finally agreed, "But they don't touch anything until we clear it first!"
Sheppard accepted that condition with a nod then leaned in conspiratorially. "And I think you ought to send Dr. Z back to bed."
McKay glanced in the Czech's direction and frowned before returning his attention back to a ruined experiment. "Jones!" he barked, as he carefully began dismantling damaged bits and pieces.
"Sir?" replied the eager young lab tech as he jogged over to his supervisor.
"Take Dr. Zelenka back to his quarters and put him to bed." Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sheppard grinning but ignored him.
"Yes, sir," said the tech. He walked over to the Czech and put a hand on his back. "Come on, Doctor, I'll walk you back to your quarters."
"D?kuji," he said tiredly and allowed the tech to lead him away.
Having 'grunts' to do most of the physical labor seemed to help but it still didn't take long before Rodney looked absolutely exhausted. Sheppard slipped quietly out of the room and radioed Beckett.
"Damn, fool," said the doctor in response to Sheppard's report.
"Maybe you could just wander down here - casual like," the major suggested.
"Aye, I'll be there in a few minutes," agreed the Scot.
"This squares things between us, right Doc?" Sheppard asked before the physician could sign off. It was bad enough dealing with the Wraith; he didn't need to be on Beckett's shitlist as well.
"I'll consider it, Major," came the amused reply.
Sheppard reentered the lab and made sure he was busily digging out debris when Beckett arrived. Rodney gave him a suspicious look but John countered it with one of innocent surprise at the physician's visit. After a little arguing, a compromise was reached and McKay left, escorted by Beckett, for lunch and a 'short nap'. John wasn't surprised when Rodney didn't reappear.
The next day, McKay's rats continued to scurry between the old lab and new, though Sheppard saw fewer and fewer of them now that the majority of the equipment transfer was completed and they were working in their new location. Rodney appeared late that morning, looking infinitely better in the major's opinion.
"Sir, have look at this," said a soldier pointing towards a hole in the wall that had just been uncovered when two of the soldiers had levered a large piece of debris out of the way.
Both McKay and Sheppard walked over and peered into the hole. They saw several strands of different colored lights. One strand seemed to have been damaged by the explosion. The rest were dim and flickered occasionally.
"That's not good," grimaced Rodney, pulling out a flashlight to get a better look.
A nod from Sheppard had sent the soldiers back to other duties. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked, getting a glimpse as the light beam hit the damaged area.
"Power conduits," confirmed McKay, grimly.
"Do you think they're safe?"
"I doubt it. The minute we draw anything resembling full power through them, they're likely to collapse under the strain."
"I'm surprised we have any power at all."
"The ancients systems are, as Radek is so fond of saying, 'incredibly redundant'."
"Can you fix it?" asked Sheppard. At McKay's a scathing look, he reworded the question, "How long to fix it?"
"We'll need to reroute the power to secondary systems while we work on it." He continued, talking more to himself than to Sheppard, "This is part of the network that powers the control room, so it's possible we'll lose some systems there until the repairs are complete." He squinted into the hole unhappily, "Several hours, at least."
"Radek, this is not going to work," said the exasperated scientist.
"I'm doing the best I can, Rodney," replied the Czech unhappily.
McKay sighed. "I know you are, but this just isn't going to get done with three hands." He had removed the panel from the other side of the wall to give them better access, but there was still only room for two people to work, one on either side of the wall. Zelenka's arm remained in a sling due to his cracked collarbone - Beckett had been adamant about that.
"Why don't you let me give you a hand?" offered Sheppard, taking the tool from the Czech's unresisting fingers. He patted the man encouragingly on the arm. "At least you're speaking English again."
"I hardly think you're qualified..." began Rodney, peering through the hole at him from the other side of the wall.
"Well so far," Sheppard drawled, "the main qualification for this job seems be the ability to be yelled at, and I think I can manage that." He gave Zelenka conspiratorial a wink. A tentative smile was his reward as the Czech backed out of the way, making room for the major to take his place. "Besides, I don't see anyone else." Thrusting his hand into the hole, he positioned the tool in approximately the same location where Zelenka had last had it.
Rodney grunted. "They're busy setting up the new lab. Shift that about eight centimeters to your left."
Sheppard moved his hand.
"Careful!" exclaimed Rodney. "I said eight centimeters!"
"You rerouted the power," John reminded him. "Chill out."
"There might still be some residual energy stored in the..." A bright green flash interrupted him as Sheppard shifted his grip on the tool and inadvertently bridged a damaged area.
Radek watched in horror as the major was thrown backward several feet.
Radek rushed to Sheppard's side. "Major? Are you okay?"
Sheppard groaned and rolled over onto his back, hugging himself tightly. "Son of a bitch, that hurt," he gasped, blinking rapidly to clear the green spots that hovered in front of his eyes.
"He's alive," Zelenka told McKay as the man came sliding through the door; hand still on his radio's earpiece. He breathed his own sigh of relief and watched the expression on Rodney's face change from fear to relief to exasperation in a mere matter of seconds.
"Don't start with me, McKay," Sheppard warned through gritted teeth as Rodney opened his mouth to deliver one of his patented lectures on stupidity.
The scientist seemed to consider doing it anyway then offered Sheppard a hand up instead. The minute their hands made contact there was another, smaller flash of green and both men jerked their hands back with a curse. Sheppard looked at him accusingly.
"Must be residual build up, like static electricity," explained Rodney, reaching out his hand again as Sheppard eyed it warily.
He reached up and received another zap for his efforts. "Damn it, that's not funny, McKay!"
"That shouldn't have happened. You should have grounded the first time we touched," he said perplexed as he rubbed his own stinging fingers absently against his thumb.
Zelenka bravely offered his hand to Sheppard instead, but the major waved him off with a wry, "Thanks, I'll manage." He rose unsteadily to his feet and stood swaying a bit until he steadied himself with a hand on the wall. "See, I'm fine," he assured the worried Czech cheerfully.
"Why don't you let me be the judge of that, Major," came the soft burr from the doorway.
"You called Beckett?" Sheppard accused McKay.
Rodney crossed his arms but said nothing.
"You're such a fink," he hissed.
"Fair's fair, Major. I believe you put a call into the infirmary not too long ago yourself," said McKay, referring to the physician's visit of the day before.
"This isn't some bloody game, you two!" Beckett snapped, waving Sheppard to a chair.
"Look, Doc, I'm fine. McKay's just being..."
"As I understand it, you just electrocuted yourself, Major," interrupted Beckett pointing to the chair and dropping his medical kit on a small table beside it when Sheppard capitulated.
McKay crossed his arms again and rocked back on his heels. "Technically, it's not electrocution since the ancient power system converts..."
"Rodney," said Beckett, effectively cutting off the explanation before the scientist could really get going with it. He automatically reached for the major's wrist and got a zap for his effort. He shook his hand briskly, trying to diminish the sting. "What the hell was that?"
"Static electricity," said Sheppard sarcastically as he narrowed his eyes in displeasure at McKay.
Beckett cautiously put his stethoscope to Sheppard's chest. The major jumped at the contact, a small green spark visible when it made contact with his skin.
"That's like no static electricity I've ever seen," said the doctor.
"He's holding some sort of charge. Don't ask me to explain it because I don't understand it myself - yet. But it doesn't seem to be doing him any harm unless someone touches him," volunteered McKay.
"You didn't feel that?" Sheppard asked the doctor suspiciously, still rubbing his stinging chest where the bell of the stethoscope had made contact with his skin. Beckett shook his head in reply.
"The rubber ear tips must have insulated you," said Rodney snapping his fingers. "I think I have some rubber gloves in the lab, hang on a sec." He walked briskly out of the room, returning a few seconds later with the gloves.
Beckett looked at the heavy ungainly black gloves skeptically, but pulled them on and reached for Sheppard's arm. Sheppard deliberately scooted his chair back a foot.
"Don't be such a baby, they're just little zaps," needled McKay.
Sheppard shot him an annoyed glance but reluctantly scooted the chair back into range, gritting his teeth in anticipation as Beckett lightly touched his arm.
"Anything?" asked both Beckett and McKay at the same time as Zelenka looked on from behind them.
"No, it's okay," said Sheppard, wincing a bit as Beckett tightened his grip on his wrist in an attempt to feel his pulse through the heavy rubber.
"Didn't I tell you 'eight centimeters'?" McKay goaded.
Sheppard shrugged. "Maybe next time you should use real measurements, like 'inches'."
"Why you Americans insist on using your outdated standard of measurement is beyond me. The rest of the world has managed to convert to the metric system, Major," groused McKay.
"The metric system lacks character. Besides, if the whole world jumps off a bridge..." said Sheppard, obviously baiting the scientist as he allowed Beckett to help him to his feet.
His patience wearing thin with the both of them, Beckett put up a hand when it became clear McKay was planning on following them to the infirmary to continue the argument. "Rodney, don't you have some repairs you need to work on?"
McKay's face took on a shocked expression as he jogged over the wall to assess the damage as Beckett escorted Sheppard out the door. "Damn it!" he shouted in a fit of pique and frustration. "He shorted out the whole thing."
"How are you doing?" asked Weir as she entered the infirmary and caught sight of Sheppard sitting on a nearby exam table.
He shrugged. "I got zapped."
"So I heard," she said dryly.
"I feel fine," he told her. "Can I go?" he asked, as Beckett approached.
"How is he really?" Weir questioned before the doctor could respond to Sheppard's plea.
"Bugger if I know," Beckett replied. "None of our scanners work around him. All we get is static. If we touch him with anything metal, like a heart monitor sensor, he gets zapped and the sensor goes haywire. It doesn't seem to affect the ancient devices and as far as we can tell from that equipment, he seems to be in relatively good health, though I'd rather confirm it with my own instruments." He turned to Sheppard, "And yes, you may go, Major, provided you come back this evening for another check."
Sheppard leaped off the bed and put a hand on the wall to steady himself. "Head rush." He felt better almost immediately and let his hand drop.
"It's your body's way of telling you to slow down," admonished the doctor, watching the man critically for any other signs of distress.
"You did say I could go, right, Doc?"
"Yes, I did, provided you come back this evening." At Sheppard's disarmingly charming smile he added, "If you don't show up, I will assume this recent adventure has affected your memory and will therefore have no choice but to keep you here a few days for observation."
Sheppard's smile faded slightly. "I'll see you this evening then, Doc."
Beckett nodded his head knowingly as the major left the infirmary, "You will now."
"This week just gets better and better," remarked Weir, watching the door slide shut behind Sheppard's retreating form.
"Aye," agreed Beckett.
Beckett was watching the two men with interest. McKay had brought a variety of things so that they could test what Sheppard had begun referring to as the 'zap factor'. Carson had agreed, provided they do the testing in the infirmary so that he could keep an eye on things; especially when he found out the two men had already tried Rodney's theory that Sheppard could be used as a battery to power ancient devices, without either supervision or success. McKay had laid out a range of items and he and Sheppard were sitting at the table methodically going through each item, one at the time. Rodney was in the middle of an involved explanation of how the Ancient power differed from Earth-type electricity.
"...as opposed to 'Earth electricity' where metallic bonding is present in all metallic elements and in alloys like steel or brass. Positive ions of the metallic element or alloy form a giant lattice, with the valency electrons floating over them. These are the electrons that would be transferred to other elements to form compounds. This arrangement means that the electrons are not attached to specific ions, but move from one ion to another. With an insulator like plastic, wood, non-metals of all descriptions, the electrons are not free to move they are attached to a specific atom and won't move amongst the other atoms. This means that the electrons won't flow through the material, and as that is what an electric current is, a flow of electrons, they are known as insulators. Even though the Ancient system doesn't use 'electricity' per se, the power, once converted from our naquadah generator, does seem to react in a similar manner when it comes to most conductors."
Sheppard turned and gave Beckett a blank look that the physician returned, at which point both men looked at Rodney.
The scientist gave an exasperated sigh. "I doubt wood or plastic will 'zap' you."
"Why didn't you just say so?" Sheppard reached out and gave a darting tap to the wooden spoon then a more lingering touch. "You're right, that's okay."
McKay pointed to another object.
"That's metal, McKay."
"I know, but it's aluminum. We haven't tried aluminum yet. As I said before, while similar, the Ancient's power system..."
Sheppard reached out, half to forestall yet another explanation, and a sharp green spark appeared. "That's it! I'm done getting zapped for the day." He stood up but immediately hit the floor when his legs buckled, though he managed to break his fall with his hands.
"Major?" Beckett and McKay asked at the same time, both men hesitating to touch him since neither was wearing gloves.
"I'm okay," he assured them, pushing himself off the floor and quickly standing back up.
"People who are 'okay' do not just collapse for no reason, Major," said Beckett, watching him worriedly.
"Really, I feel fine. Good, even. I don't know what just happened."
McKay picked up one of the rubber-handled metal objects off the table and touched it to Sheppard's arm.
"Ouch!" Sheppard jerked, rubbing the spot when it had made contact. "What did you do that for?"
Rodney poked at him quickly two more times, a greenish spark appearing each time it made contact.
"Ow! Son of a ...I'M GONNA TO KICK YOUR ASS, McKAY!"
"Rodney, have you gone daft?" asked Beckett, putting an arm out to block any further contact between the scientist and the major.
"I have a theory."
"What you're going to have is my foot up your ass if you so much as think about touching me again!" Sheppard promised, narrowing his eyes. He looked as though he might have carried through on the threat then and there except Beckett's arm still blocked him.
"How do you feel, Major?" asked Rodney.
"Like I want to dip you in barbeque sauce and throw you to a Wraith," he growled.
The scientist waved away the threat. "I'm betting you feel tired...drained, even?"
Beckett dropped his arm and looked thoughtful when he saw the surprise on Sheppard's face. "Do you, Major?"
"Maybe a little," John admitted, still eyeing Rodney angrily.
"You said you felt 'good' just a second ago," remarked the doctor.
Sheppard frowned. "I did."
"Touch the wall," suggested McKay.
"What? Why?"
"Just humor me, Major."
"I'd like to do a hell of a lot more than that," mumbled Sheppard but he put his palm flat on the wall.
"Feel better?" McKay asked.
He let go of the wall. "Yeah, actually I do."
Beckett looked from one to the other. "What's this all about, Rodney?"
"I think Atlantis is somehow 'recharging' him. Power constantly runs through conduits behind the walls and in the floors and ceiling. When the Major touches the walls, he draws energy through his contact and gets recharged. Electricity can 'jump' so I'm assuming the power the Ancients use can also 'jump' from the conduits to the wall, spurred by Sheppard's vicinity - similar to a magnet. His rubber soled boots insulate him from the energy in the floor. I think his clothing insulates him to some degree as well, creating a barrier between his body and the walls. The more he discharges," he looked to Sheppard to clarify, "gets 'zapped', the more energy he loses."
"I don't like the sound of that," said the physician.
Sheppard shrugged. "I really do feel fine now, Doc. You know, all except the overwhelming desire to kill McKay!" He took a threatening step forward now that Beckett's arm no longer blocked his path.
Rodney took several hasty steps backward, looked at his watch, and said quickly, "Well, I need to get back to the repairs. I've had Zelenka supervising the techs doing some of the more simple but time-consuming work. They should be almost done by now."
"I think I'd like to run a few more tests, Major," said Beckett as McKay left.
"Oh, could we? Please?" the major replied sarcastically.
"Grumpy," remarked Beckett.
After he had been poked and prodded, and drained of various fluids, Beckett insisted he stay and nap while they waited for the additional test results. Sheppard rolled over in the infirmary bed, trying to find a comfortable position when his wrist brushed the metal bed frame and he was zapped for what he was sure was the millionth time. He loosed an expletive and got out of the bed, getting another zap for his efforts when his elbow accidentally made contact with an unused I.V. pole.
"Major?" inquired Beckett when he saw him out of bed and seething.
"I can't do it, Doc. I get zapped every time I move. It's driving me insane!"
The doctor pursed his lips in sympathy. "Go on, back to your own quarters, then."
"Really?"
"Yes, if you promise you'll get some rest. I'll call you if we learn anything from this latest batch of tests."
"Thanks," he said sincerely.
Sheppard was eating supper in his room, attempting to use wooden chopsticks since the utensils from the cafeteria proved to be conductive. He carefully picked up a piece of chicken, but as he brought it to his mouth, the chopsticks twisted in his hand and the morsel went flying into the air. Sighing, he tried another piece but an impatient banging on the door interrupted him. Putting his food aside, he rose to answer it. The sliding door revealed the person he least wanted to deal with at the moment. "What do you want?" he asked in a surly tone, blocking the doorway, and pointedly not inviting the scientist to enter.
"My, aren't we in a good mood?" responded McKay, hiding his amusement as he caught sight of Sheppard's bare feet.
"You try pissing rainbows and sunshine when you get the crap zapped out of you every ten minutes," snapped Sheppard.
"What's with the feet?"
"I stay 'charged' without having to think about it. Have you found out how to de-electrify me yet?"
Rodney wisely decided that this was not the time for another lecture on the difference between electricity and what the ancient actually used for power. "Not yet, I did bring you this though." He handed him a lidded plastic pail.
"What is it?" Sheppard asked, looking at the container suspiciously.
"It's rubber mix. Add a little water, stir it up, and coat whatever you want in it - in a couple of hours, instant insulation." At Sheppard's depressed look he quickly added, "It's just temporary, as soon as we get the power conduits fixed and the control room back on-line, we'll be able to access the database again so we can find out how to 'cure' you. Oh, and here," he said, pulling something out of his back pocket. "Rubber gloves," he explained. "We found some that are a little less cumbersome than the ones Beckett's been using."
Sheppard accepted them gratefully. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. You realize if you had listened to me in the first place, none of SHIT!" He jumped back, clearing the doorframe.
"Oops." Sheppard smiled despite the stinging in his fingers. "Sorry about that." He let the door slide shut between them.
The gate lit up and the alarm began to sound.
"Unscheduled off-world activation," announced Peter Grodin over the open channel.
"Raise the shield," said Weir, coming out of her office.
The shield obediently glowed, flickered briefly then disappeared in a flash along with most of the lighting in the control room.
"We've lost power!" said Grodin.
A Wraith stepped through the undulating event horizon, stood for a moment taking in his surroundings, then walked forward; several more quickly appeared behind him. All had a light dusting of snow on their heads and shoulders.
The four soldiers assigned to guard the control room immediately began emptying the contents of their P-90's into the newcomers. They managed to take out three before Wraith stunners blasted the men into unconsciousness.
"This is Sheppard," he said, clicking on his radio. "What's going on?"
"Wraith!"
"Where?"
"Control room," came the reply before the radio went dead.
Sheppard shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his pistol, dropping it onto the bed when he got a zap for his efforts. He hurriedly put on the gloves Rodney had given him and picked it back up, running out the door towards the control room.
In the control room, the Wraith seemed more interested in what was behind them, turning to point their stunners in the direction of the gate. Everyone in the room looked dumbfounded. Weir was the first to come to her senses. "Get out. Everyone out!" she hissed.
"But..." began Peter.
"We can activate the self-destruct from Rodney's terminal," she said, staying low and giving him an encouraging push towards the exit. "Hopefully we won't have to if the major and his men can regain control and we can get the shield back up."
Without power, there was no way they could do anything from the control room anyway. Being on the top level did give them something of an advantage. Using the control consoles for cover, they hurried down the back steps and into the hallway.
The wormhole disgorged another handful of Wraith, and more stunner blasts began to fly through the air just as Weir and Grodin, the last of the control room occupants, slipped out the door unnoticed. They were almost run down by Sheppard.
"How did Wraith get in the city?" he demanded, panting.
"The shield went down," Grodin volunteered.
Stunner blasts could still be heard from behind them. "Who's shooting?" Sheppard asked, bewildered.
"More Wraith."
"More..." He stopped himself and grabbed her by the arm while at the same time giving Grodin a shove down the corridor. Yelling at the rest of the escapees to get to their quarters and stay there, he was glad to see no one had to be told twice. He rushed Peter and Elizabeth towards Rodney's old lab, knowing that's where the scientist had been heading last.
They met McKay in the hall, just a few feet from the door. "You overloaded the secondary conduits," he accused Peter. I told you not..."
"There are Wraith on Atlantis," Sheppard snapped, cutting him off.
"What?"
Sheppard propelled him back towards the lab. "I need citywide, can you do that from here?"
"Uh..." he said, still obviously confused.
"And the self-destruct?" prompted Weir.
The gravity of the situation finally sunk in. "No. No power. No terminals. He ducked back into the ruined lab and grabbed his laptop. "Come on, I think we can do it from the new lab."
"You think?"
"We can do it from the new lab," he assured them. "There is a portable power source and access to the central computer system." Entering the lab and rigging his laptop, he ignored the odd looks from the rest of the scientists and technicians as he grabbed several different items from various workstations. "I just need a minute."
Sheppard resisted the temptation to tell him that they didn't have a minute.
Weir was looking thoughtful and a little pensive. "Peter, did you notice something odd."
Grodin's eyes were still twice normal size. "Odd?" he asked in shocked disbelief at the understatement.
"They didn't seem particularly interested in us, did they?"
He thought about it a moment. "Now that you mention it, they seemed much more interested in what was coming through the gate behind them.
"I wonder if they even know they're on Atlantis?"
"How can they not know?" asked Sheppard.
"Citywide, Major," said McKay, tapping one last button.
Sheppard nodded his thanks. "There are Wraith on the base. I repeat Wraith on the base. This is not a drill. All military personnel report to the armory if possible. Everyone else stay where you are and lock the doors." They had had two drills since it became apparent that the Wraith might eventually attack Atlantis. Sheppard just hoped everyone had been paying attention. He headed toward the door, ignoring the commotion his announcement had caused in the lab.
Rodney waved Zelenka over. "Put the self-destruct in standby," he instructed before running out the door after the major. "Peter," he yelled over his shoulder, "middle crystal." He trusted Grodin to remove the middle crystal in the door panel that would temporarily deactivate the controls, effectively locking the door.
Sheppard looked at him without pausing. "What do you think you're doing, McKay?"
"I can't fix the shield without access to the control room!"
Sheppard shook his head but didn't have time to argue as he increased his pace toward the armory.
Ford was already there, handing out weapons to the group of men who had assembled. "Here you go, Sir," he said tossing Sheppard a P-90. McKay caught the next one. The young lieutenant also handed his commander several lifesigns detectors.
Sheppard addressed the soldiers. "We've done this as a drill plenty of times. There are Wraith in my city and I want them gone! Attack Plan Alpha. In seven," he said looking at his watch. "McKay, go with Ford's group and take this," he said, passing him a detector. He knew Rodney's ability to use the handheld device, as well as his intimate working knowledge of Atlantis, would be an advantage for Ford's team. The second device he handed to Markham and kept the third for himself. "Let's go."
The teams split up, the bulk of the unit going with Markham and Ford for flank assaults on the control room. A few handpicked men left with Sheppard for a frontal attack that was less an assault and more a distraction for Markham and Ford's group.
Sheppard checked his watch outside the control room and nodded to his men giving them a three count on his fingers, at which point they burst into the control room, P-90's blazing. There was an explosion of gunfire and stunners as all hell broke loose. Ford's group appeared on the upper level while Markham's men fired from the lower level opposite Sheppard's team, catching the group of Wraith in a deadly crossfire. It was all over in a matter of moments and the gunfire stuttered to a stop. Sheppard considered it a resounding success since it resulted in all the Wraith being taken down in a barrage of bullets while only two of Markham's men laid stunned. The four soldiers who had been guarding the gate also appeared only stunned, the Wraith not yet having fed upon them.
Twenty men now stood directly in front of the gate, their P-90's aimed at the swirling vortex which was giving off a soft glow in the dimly lit control room. Rodney was talking to Grodin and Zelenka over the radio, the three of them working feverishly to get enough power routed back to the control room so that the shield could be raised before more Wraith decided to join the party.
"Damn it, McKay," shouted Sheppard. "Get that shield back on-line."
"What do you think I'm trying to do?" the scientist yelled back, never pausing in his frantic attempt to reactivate the shield.
"And see if you can figure out where they came from," added the Major.
"Anything else?" snapped McKay.
"It'd be nice if you could get the lights back on," Sheppard snapped back, still angry that they'd been caught with their pants down.
McKay quickly rearranged several of the inserts in the control panel, trying to get what little power was available rerouted to the shield.
The gate shut off and the room was plunged into darkness except for the small lights attached to the P-90s. The men relaxed a fraction but kept their weapons aimed on the gate.
"No, not that one," Rodney snapped into his radio when the panel flashed on briefly. "Wait! Turn it back on!" The panel glowed again. "Oh no."
"What?" yelled Sheppard from below, his P-90 still trained on the gate. When McKay used that tone, it was never good news.
"Some of them must have left the control room before we got here," Rodney shouted over the railing.
"What?" Sheppard cursed under his breath.
"There are Wraith loose in the city, Major."
Making his way over to the lower level exit, he glanced down the darkened hallway, "How many, McKay?"
"I'm not sure, there's not enough power to get a solid reading...three, maybe four."
Sheppard shot a look over his shoulder towards the scientist, "Can you tell where?"
"North of the main tower somewhere, it keeps fading in and out."
"Markham and....O'Conner, you have the gene right?" At the soldier's nod, he continued, "Ford, you and the rest stay here and guard the gate until McKay gets that shield back up. If it activates, I want you to start shooting if you see so much as a toe, you got that?"
"Yes, sir," answered Ford.
"McKay!"
"What!"
"Lifesigns detector."
Rodney grabbed the unit off the console he was working on and tossed it over the rail to Sheppard, who caught it and handed it to O'Conner.
"Son of a..." Sheppard ducked back behind the corner as a stunner blast barely missed him. He took two quick breaths then poked his head back out and emptied what was left of his P-90 clip into the Wraith which finally fell to the floor, dead. He pulled off a sweaty glove and checked his lifesigns detector, happy to see no one else in his immediate vicinity and tapped his radio twice. His team had split up, hoping to be able to keep the Wraith contained in that general area until they could be found.
Markham answered immediately, reporting no sightings. O'Conner didn't answer at all.
Sheppard cursed under his breath and told Markham to head towards O'Conner last known position and stay with the man if he should happen to find him alive. Meanwhile, the major headed back at a run through the maze of corridors towards the armory for more ammunition.
"I've got the shield back up," announced McKay excitedly over the radio.
"That's great, Rodney," said Sheppard. He checked the lifesigns detector again and slowed his run to a walk. "Crap!"
"What's wrong?"
"I'm in trouble." He tucked the detector in his pocket so he'd have a hand free for his knife. The device would do him little good now. He pulled his glove back on and pulled out his pistol, knowing it would be woefully ineffective against a wraith.
"Could you be a little more specific?"
"I'm trapped in the corridor with a Wraith headed toward me in either direction and I have nowhere to go. How's that for specific?" he hissed.
Irritation quickly took over in the scientist. "Which corridor, damn it?"
"The gray one."
"Major!"
"Northwest of the tower, somewhere."
"We're on our way."
Sheppard glanced to his left and his right, trying to decide which Wraith was likely to appear first and did some quick calculations. He came to the conclusion that there were times when being a math wizard really sucked. "You'll never make it in time."
"Then...then stall them."
"You're kidding, right?" asked Sheppard in disbelief. Catching a movement in the corner of his eye, he turned to meet the first Wraith that had appeared. He backed away slowly, even though he realized he was putting himself that much nearer the second, as yet unseen, Wraith. Raising his pistol, he held his fire knowing that the closer the Wraith was, the more damage he could do with what little ammunition remained.
"Look, um, Fred. Can I call you, Fred?" The Wraith looked at him and growled. "I'll take that as a 'yes'. Fred, I'm all skin and bones. You don't want me. Really, there are lots of juicier morsels on Atlantis." Sheppard took another step backward, shooting a nervous look behind him. The other Wraith had not yet appeared. "Take McKay, for example. He might be a little sour, but throw on some barbeque sauce..."
The Wraith hissed again, but not at Sheppard. John glanced over his shoulder and saw the second Wraith who growled back. Tension was thick in the air as both Wraith continued to glare at each other. Oh, great. Now I'm in the middle of some sort of freaking Mexican standoff? He wouldn't have minded, only he doubted they would overlook draining the life from him once they settled their little squabble.
As if reacting to some signal, both Wraith flung down their stunners and ran at each other, totally oblivious to the human between them. John just barely managed to jump back into a small service alcove, narrowly avoiding being sandwiched between the two as they collided.
Fred attempted to get his hand on the other Wraith's chest briefly before his adversary slammed him into the wall, loosening his grip. They both crashed to the floor snarling, ripping, tearing and biting at each other while Sheppard watched half in fascinated horror and half in the hope that the fight might move far enough away that he could make an unobserved escape down the hall.
Rolling quickly to their feet, the Wraith stared at each other in undisguised hatred and loathing before resuming their vicious attack. A few more powerful slams into the wall and Fred succeeded in getting his hands firmly on the other's neck, giving it a sharp twist and rip, nearly decapitating his enemy. He gave a roar of victory then stood panting, black gore oozing from the socket where his right eye had been ripped out by his opponent moments before. Turning his one good eye menacingly on Sheppard, he took a deliberate step towards him.
Sheppard backed away, emptying what was left in his pistol into Fred. The wraith took a staggering step back then started forward again, reaching out his hand towards the major's chest. John pulled out his knife and took another step back, bumping into the wall.
A sudden thought came to him and he began rubbing his left wrist on his thigh frantically trying to peel off his glove. Just before the Wraith made contact, Sheppard stabbed his knife into its shoulder, making little impact except possibly angering it even more. Grabbing frantically at his left hand, he ripped off the glove and reached back to touch the wall just as he felt the Wraith's hand make contact. He thought he heard someone scream but the sound was drowned out as his world exploded into a sea of scarlet, neon green, fire, and pain.
McKay, Ford, and a handful of men rounded the corner in time to see the Wraith make contact with Sheppard punctuated by a spark of green. Without hesitation, Ford aimed the stunner he had procured from the control room and blasted them both. A blinding flash of neon green completely engulfed the pair for a few seconds as the Wraith screamed and finally collapsed backwards. Sheppard crumpled to the floor in a heap.
Rodney ran over and dropped to his knees near Sheppard, frantically feeling for a pulse, only shying slightly when Ford grabbed a P-90 from one of the other men and emptied it into the Wraith.
His immediate duty completed, the young lieutenant looked anxiously from Sheppard to the scientist.
"I don't feel a pulse," Rodney said, clicking on his radio, "Carson!" Just then he felt a slight flutter against his fingers and Sheppard took a gasping breath. "Oh thank God!"
"Rodney?"
We need a medical team down here, right now," McKay demanded, willing the slight rise and fall of Sheppard's chest to continue.
As the scientist relayed their location to the medical team, Ford stationed two men with stunners down the hallway in either direction and handed McKay an extra clip of ammunition, before taking the rest of the men to search the area and make sure there were no more Wraith running loose.
With Beckett and his team on their way, and Sheppard still breathing, McKay took the opportunity to look at the Wraith closest to him. He could see its face was a gory mess, but the thing that drew his attention was its hand - scorched and contracted with faint wisps of smoke still emanating from it. He carefully pulled away the remnants of John's shirt to reveal a bloody blistered handprint and cringed, more surprised than ever that the major was still alive. It was only then he realized that he had touched the major without getting zapped.
The warm blue waters of the Caribbean surrounded John Sheppard as he swam amongst the coral. Colorful schools of fish went peacefully swimming by while seaweed ungulated gently on the sandy floor. The water gradually began to grow colder and turned grayer. Now it was the ocean of Atlantis, and he suddenly realized he wasn't wearing a snorkel, much less scuba gear. "I'm going to drown." He took a shallow breath, expecting his lungs to fill with water - strange, he could breathe underwater after all, careful shallow breaths, how odd. He looked around, noticing an area where the gray became lighter. That must be the way towards the surface. He struck out in that direction; gradually things became brighter and the Atlantean sea began to smell oddly of disinfectant and less of salt. He broke through the surface into the sunlight with a gasp and opened his eyes.
Crap. Infirmary. Again.
He felt a reassuring touch on his arm and was surprised it didn't hurt, though at the moment, he couldn't seem to remember why he thought that it should. Turning his head slightly he saw Elizabeth Weir. She gave him small relieved smile and turned away. Probably trying catch Beckett's eye.
He tried to piece together his current circumstances, but it was no good. Nothing immediately came to mind that would explain laying flat on his back in the infirmary or why his chest ached abominably - but he assumed the two were related. A quick glance at Weir gave him no indication if he was hero or villain. She was the type of leader who preferred you were one hundred percent before she reamed you a new one, though she had never been shy about telling him exactly what she thought about his gung-ho attitude. He just hoped he hadn't done anything this time to earn her wrath. Weir's Wrath. He liked that. It bounced around his brain until suddenly...
He grabbed the scrub shirt and jerked it up in panic to look at his chest; disrupting several monitor leads in his haste and causing the devices to begin squealing in alarm. Ripping off the patch of gauze that covered his chest revealed a bright red welt in the shape of a hand. He reached up and felt his face, relieved when it seemed the same as he remembered. It was only then he noticed his left hand was bandaged.
Beckett appeared at his other side calmly snapping off various switches and silencing the frantic beeping of the monitors. For a second, Sheppard thought Atlantis was shifting under him until he realized that the doctor was just adjusting the bed slightly.
"How do you feel?" Beckett asked.
He thought about that for a moment. How did he feel? "Tingly. My chest hurts."
"The burns will heal, though you may have some slight scarring. Which is a small price to pay, considering the circumstances."
Sheppard was confused. "What happened?"
"What's the last thing you remember?" countered Beckett.
Just like the doctor to answer a question with a question, he thought, exasperated. "The Wraith were in the city and Fred was about to turn me into a happy meal."
Beckett and Weir exchanged amused glances at his phrasing. "You killed the Wraith."
"I did?" He didn't remember killing Fred. In fact, he was pretty sure he had been the one who died. "How?" He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. His chest and hand were becoming increasingly painful and the tingling was becoming less an annoyance and more like his nerve endings were on fire.
"Later," said Beckett with a reassuring pat as he noticed the signs of his patient's increasing discomfort.
Sheppard automatically jerked his arm away in reflex before he realized the doctor's touch hadn't caused a zap. "Hey, I'm not electric anymore! When did that happen?"
"We can go over it later," said Carson firmly.
Definitely annoyed, Sheppard looked to Weir for enlightenment but she seemed to be doing a stellar impression of the Mona Lisa: calm and serene, but obviously not planning on saying a word.
He noticed that Beckett had used the momentary distraction to inject something into his I.V. port. Hunh. I didn't even notice I had an I.V. The pain diminished and he began to feel lethargic and sleepy. He doubted it was a coincidence.
"What about O'Conner?" he managed to ask.
"Just stunned," Beckett assured him.
"Apparently the Wraith were too busy with each other to stop and feed," Weir added.
"Mmmm," was the only comment Sheppard could manage before drifting off.
He awoke to the smell of coffee and eggs. An attractive blond nurse was setting up what appeared to be a breakfast tray beside his bed. His stomach growled and the nurse turned with a smile to adjust his bed and tray to make him more comfortable. She handed him a fork and watched to be sure he was eating before continuing about her duties. It was then he realized, his I.V. had been removed. That cheered him up considerably and he tackled his breakfast with gusto. A few minutes later, he sighed as he finished the last bite of toast. Unfortunately, his comfort was short lived and he realized he had added to another problem. He was practically sitting up already, the bed having been adjusted for breakfast, so he gingerly swung his legs off the edge. Beckett was at his side in the next instant, startling Sheppard with his touch. He wondered how long it would be before he would get used to not being zapped.
"Bathroom," he said firmly, daring Beckett to stop him.
Beckett waived over the nurse while keeping a restraining hand on Sheppard's arm. The nurse promptly took his other arm and Beckett's grip changed to one of support, rather than restraint.
Sheppard eased himself off the bed and allowed them to support him while he got his balance. When it became clear he wasn't going to collapse on the spot, they guided him carefully towards the bathroom. Once at the door, John shook off their hands, and firmly closed the door in their faces. This he would manage on his own. He blessed whoever had installed the chrome support bars over the commode because he was relatively sure he was going to need them. He even managed to wash his hands before Beckett came in to check on him. Too bad they don't have locks on these doors. But he supposed it was on purpose in case some patient passed out cold while taking a leak.
Carson helped him back to bed. He, John Sheppard, who ran at least three miles before breakfast each morning, couldn't walk ten lousy feet to use a bathroom without shaking with exhaustion.
"Don't worry," said the doctor as if sensing his thoughts, "Your body just needs a little time to adjust."
John nodded his head in gratitude and leaned back closing his eyes.
When he awoke later that evening, he found McKay sitting by his bed, reading through a stack of reports and munching on the ubiquitous power bar.
"You get the control room back up and running?" he asked by way of greeting.
McKay met the comment with a narrowing of his eyes. "Yes I did. The repairs on the primary conduit were almost completed when all hell broke loose. All I had to do is finish that repair and reroute the power back through them. Now the secondary conduits are going to need extensive..."
"Sorry I asked," interrupted Sheppard, looking from side to side for the bed control.
"I've got it," said McKay, pressing the switch that would raise the head of the bed. "Good?"
"Yeah, thanks."
"Did you find out where the Wraith came from?"
"Our best guess? M3H-127, the planet with the kids."
"That seems an unlikely coincidence," said Sheppard. He helped himself to the cup of water by his bed.
"I agree."
"How did they track us? I thought you couldn't trace the last address that was dialed by a DHD."
"I've never found a way."
"So you're admitting there might be something you don't know?" needled Sheppard.
McKay pointedly ignored the comment. "There's another possibility."
Sheppard became more subdued. "There was a Wraith spy on the planet watching us."
McKay nodded his head in agreement. "Speaking of our friendly neighborhood vampires, what was with all the carnage in the hall where we found you?"
"Wraith smackdown."
"They were fighting each other? Why?"
"I don't think we're the only ones 'trespassing on feeding grounds'."
"Okay, I'm officially freaked out by that idea."
Sheppard grinned at the uncharacteristically unscientific term. "It's not necessarily a bad thing, provided they're too busy with each other to worry about us."
"They weren't too busy for the people on M3H-127...and why leave the children to die?"
"I'm beginning to think they didn't so much leave the children, as take all the adults," said Sheppard.
"I'm not sure I understand the distinction."
"What if Wraith 'poachers' took all the adults just to spite the other group or maybe they just took so many that when the other group arrived, they had to take everyone that was left."
"That still doesn't explain why they left the children to die."
"They ignored the children, probably because they're not worth the effort expended for the energy they provide," said Sheppard. "They didn't take any of the children on Athos, either," he reminded the scientist.
"True..." said Rodney, still not completely convinced. "Maybe there was more than one spy on the planet," suggested McKay in sudden inspiration. "Someone keeping an eye out for poachers?"
"Definitely a possibility and it would explain how we ended up with both groups continuing their little disagreement here on Atlantis." Sheppard reached out toward the pitcher to pour himself another glass of water.
"Here," said Rodney, offering to fill the plastic cup. His fingers inadvertently touched the Major's and the cup went clattering to the floor when Sheppard recoiled at the contact.
"Sorry," John said sheepishly. "I still keep expecting to get zapped." He was amazed at how ingrained the response had become in such a short period of time.
"Ah yes, the exciting adventures of Electroman are now at an end," remarked McKay, picking up the cup and replacing it with a clean one which he filled and handed to Sheppard.
John accepted the cup gratefully. "Ford?" He was going to have to get that kid to stop naming everything.
Rodney shook his head, "He went with 'The Zapper'."
"The Zapper," mused Sheppard, "I kinda like that one, actually."
"Annoying as it may have been, it did save your life."
"What exactly happened? I thought the world ended when Fred touched me."
"We're not sure but it seems that you, for lack of a better term, electrocuted the Wraith."
"I fried Fred," said Sheppard, amused. "So how come Fred's dead and I'm still here?"
"True electrocution depends on a number of factors: contact voltage, mechanical pressure, insulation, composition of blood, etc. We can only guess the things that might affect Ancient power."
"Okay, so how did I get de-electrified?"
"It could have been something to do with the chemical the wraith used to 'prepare' their victims, the stunner blast, the gene, or a combination of any or all of the above in concert with your drawing power from Atlantis at the same time. There are just too many variables under uncontrolled conditions to speculate."
"Spoken like a true scientist," said Sheppard. "Well at least I won't have to suffer through any more of your experiments."
"I still think using you as a battery should have worked..."
"Power is definitely getting to the console. All the power fluctuations we've had must have actually damaged it." Rodney moved his hand on and off the console. When he touched it, it lit up for a few seconds then shut off again. "It would be helpful if someone could keep it activated it while we work on it," he said, diving underneath.
"Major Sheppard?" suggested Zelenka.
"Beckett's released him but sent him to the mainland for a few days," said the scientist from under the console. He slid back out to grab a tool from Zelenka. "Not a bad idea considering he jumps out of reflex if anything touches him. It's rather annoying, actually."
"I'm sure he finds your concern touching, Rodney."
McKay gave him an irritated glance before touching the console again to restart it. It flashed on for a second and then went right back off.
The Czech pushed up his glasses and smiled. "I heard he offered you to the Wraith covered in barbeque sauce."
McKay pointedly ignored him and touched the console again which stayed on a full three seconds before blinking out. He compressed his lips in annoyance at the machine's refusal to stay initialized. "I'll get Beckett," he said, resigned.
"Carson?" Rodney demanded, poking his head in the medical lab.
"Rodney!" the doctor acknowledged happily, his excitement making him oblivious to the scientist's imperious tone.
"You're in a good mood," McKay observed dryly, entering the doctor's lab.
"And why shouldn't I be? The infirmary's empty for the first time in days, even Jameson's been released." He gave McKay a stern look, "Though I don't want to see her back at work for several weeks yet."
Rodney made a hands-off gesture in acknowledgment then failed to suppress a shudder when he realized the doctor was holding the Wraith arm Sheppard had brought back from Athos. "What are you doing?"
"I'm working on a new theory." He flipped the arm over, put it back in the tray, and pulled out a scalpel. "Some of the Wraith seem weaker than others. What if they're copies?" He cut a small sample of Wraith tissue and loaded it on a slide.
"What are you talking about?"
"Here," the Scot said, grabbing a piece of paper off the counter and shoving Sheppard's military signals handout into Rodney's hand. "Copies...and copies of copies. They're never as good as the originals."
"I'm still lost, Carson."
"What if the Wraith propagate by cloning? That would explain why some are so much more resilient than others."
"The more resilient ones being the originals, I suppose," Rodney mused. "Aren't clones exact duplicates?"
"In theory, but it's very hard to get a perfect result in practice; and if you continued making imperfect copies of imperfect copies..."
"Why not copy the original? Surely they would realize they're creating an increasingly inferior offspring."
"Maybe the originals were killed off," shrugged Beckett.
"Or maybe they don't have access to the originals anymore?" suggested McKay. "That would fit Sheppard's theory that they're not all one big happy life-sucking family."
"True," agreed the doctor, preparing another slide.
"I don't know, Carson. The Major and Ford definitely identified the one that killed Sumner as female. Why evolve a male/female gender distinction if you propagate by cloning?"
"What if it's not what they're evolving to but what they're evolving from? Maybe it's left over from the original mutation. We're theorizing that the Wraith were originally human, perhaps even ancients, who settled on that planet; their interaction with the tic creatures mutating their DNA in some way."
"So you think the female was one of the original mutations?"
"Why not? Sheppard said she was extremely hard to kill." He continued, "Males are generally stronger than females..."
"Don't let Teyla hear you say that," interrupted the scientist wryly.
"I said generally, Rodney. It would make sense that you would clone the physically strongest of the race, especially if you were breeding an army against the Ancients...or each other for that matter. Aside from that one female, we've seen only what appear to be males."
"All of them do look alike, at least to me," he agreed, somewhat amused by the doctor's excitement. "It's an intriguing hypothesis."
Beckett looked a little bashful at the praise, "It's only a theory. I have a long way to go before I can prove or disprove anything and very little time these days to work on it." He put the slide under a microscope and adjusted the focus. "At least now I have additional tissue samples to compare," he said, waving a hand at the trays of various wraith parts.
Rodney swallowed hard at the dismembered pieces. "That's a good thing, right?"
"Good? It's bloody marvelous!"
"You really get into this stuff, don't you?" asked McKay in amazement.
"Genetic research is my passion," Carson confided, before cheerfully slicing off another sample.
"Well, um...don't let me interrupt you," said Rodney. Turning to leave, he began mentally shuffling through his list of gene-possessed expedition members settling on Doctor Kusanagi's lab as his next destination.
"Rodney?"
"Yes?" He turned back to the doctor.
"Didn't you come in here for something?" asked Beckett, looking into the microscope.
"Come in here for something?" repeated McKay.
The physician suddenly looked up, "You're not feeling unwell, are you?"
"No, no. I feel fine," said the scientist quickly. "I was uh...I was going to ask you if you wanted to have lunch."
"Oh. If you don't mind, I'll probably just grab a sandwich and continue to work on this," he said returning his attention to the slide.
"I understand, completely." Rodney favored Beckett with a rare smile before heading out the door. "Just don't forget to go to sleep tonight."
Beckett nodded his head in agreement, not really listening. Suddenly what Rodney said filtered down. "That's the pot calling the kettle black," he yelled after the departing figure.
END
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AN:
I found in my research that Liberia (in western Africa) and Myanmar (aka Burma, in Southeast Asia) also have not officially adopted the metric system, but I doubted Rodney would keep up with such things.
For all you non-Americans (and those of us who had the metric system in the 6th grade twenty-odd years ago and never saw it again) 2.54 centimeters make one inch.
Now if anyone tells you reading fanfic is a waste of time you can ask 'em if they know where Myanmar is and how many centimeters make an inch ;-)
Rodney's spiel on electricity was taken from the GCSE SOS Teacher website.
The barbeque sauce was hubby's idea. (Can you tell he's Southern born and bred?)
I wrote this before "Conversion" so it looks like my theory of cloning was off, but it was just a theory after all.