Title: Never Stop Moving

By Tipper

Disclaimer: Stargate: Atlantis and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/US, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story was created for entertainment purposes only.  No copyright infringement is intended.  The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s), not me.  Thank you to the amazing writers, producers, actors, crew and directors who bring it to life. 
Category/Rating: Gen/T - action/adventure, h/c, some angst
Characters: Team, though Teyla is the heart (and, yes, of course I hurt Sheppard and McKay, are you kidding? It's me we're talking about here!)
Status: COMPLETE. 23 Chapters
A/N: Taking a risk, I'm using an OC I created in a story called "Failure to Communicate."  However, you don't need to read that to follow this.  All you need to know will be explained in this story. Honestly, totally don't need to know him at all.  I also promise he does not take away from the Team.  It's not about him.  Cross my heart.

A/N 2: This story was inspired by two things, the episode Submersion (you don't have to see it, it's not referenced—it's the visibly uncertain side of Teyla we see in that episode that brought this story on) and a photo which I'll put at the end.

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CHAPTER ONE: ON THE WATER

"Rodney!"

Sheppard's shout was almost inaudible, nearly drowned out by the heavy whine of the hovercraft's engines and the storm raging outside. The colonel's entire body was tense, working the controls of the unwieldy craft with all the grace of an angry three-year-old. The whole thing tipped upwards on a swell, making him feel almost weightless, then slammed down on the far side hard enough to make his teeth rattle. Breathing out harshly, he tried again, louder this time.

"Rodney!"

"What?" came the shouted, terrified reply over Sheppard's left shoulder. The boat tipped up and slammed into the waves again, the fat, black rubber skirt doing little to cushion the choppy water they were skidding over, each hit sending his team into chairs and tables and consoles scattered about the small pilot room. Rodney was holding on somewhere behind him. Sheppard grimaced, jaw gritted tightly.

"I—"

"Look out!" Rodney shouted.

Sheppard saw it at the same time, and wrenched the wheel under his hands to the left, the slick, damp leather sliding under his palms. His right hand shot out to grab the throttle, kicking it down a notch. The ship barely responded, turning only just enough to avoid the other hovercraft trying to cut off their escape. Ronon, the only one of them with a weapon, leaned out a window and shot his blaster towards the other boat, two rapid flashes of red light blinding against the dark, blue-black sky. Teyla was gripping some webbing along the wall near Ronon, just trying to hold on. She looked a little green.

"Damn it," Sheppard hissed, trying to straighten the ship up again, but the hovercraft was stuck now on the heading. "McKay!" he shouted again as he threw the throttle up to a faster speed, giving into the heading for now.

"Again, what?!" Rodney yelled again as he leaned closer, gripping the back of the pilot's chair in which Sheppard was sitting, his presence heavy against Sheppard's back.

"Do something!"

"What?" McKay's response was more of a squeak this time, as Sheppard finally managed to get the wheel to turn back to center, his arms feeling like they were going to pop out of his sockets as he pulled on it with all the strength he had. The boat jerked suddenly, sending his team flying to the right as it tipped up. The hovercraft then hit a high swell on the new heading, and came down so hard, it was amazing they didn't flip over.

"I can't control it!" Sheppard shouted.

"What?!" This time, three people shouted that word, and Sheppard felt his teammates eyes on him, drilling into his back. He gritted his teeth, gripping the massive black wheel even more tightly. He'd already wrenched the throttle back up to full speed.

"I thought you said you could work it!" McKay yelled, staggering forward into Sheppard's chair again as the hovercraft hit another large swell. Ronon fell into the front, nearly hitting the Plexiglas windows, and Teyla fell into Ronon.

"I thought..." McKay yelled again, only to be interrupted by weapons' fire nearby, and the crack of bullets hitting the Plexiglas windows on their left, causing Rodney to jump. Ronon shoved past McKay, sending the scientist staggering towards the windows in front of Sheppard, and fired his blaster through an open porthole in the direction of the other craft.

"Damn it, Sheppard!" Rodney panicked, his default anger coming to fore to compensate for the crack in his voice. "You said it was just like flying! You said you knew how to—"

"It's not me!" Sheppard growled, using all his muscles to wrench the stiff wheel in another direction, opposite from their pursuers, all in similar hovercrafts...except the others had probably not been stolen from a maintenance bay. "The controls are messed! She's barely responding! You have to fix it!"

"What?" Rodney was gripping a console to stay in place as they tilted hard. "Are you crazy? I can't fix this boat!"

"Hovercraft!"

"That's worse! How am I supposed to—?"

"It's got an engine! You can fix anything!"

"Yes!" McKay's eyes were wide. "With tools! With parts! With a scanner! I've got nothing!"

"Improvise!"

"Improvise?"

"Yes!"

"You improvise!"

"Rodney!" Sheppard spared a glance away from the swelling, black ocean to stare hard at the scientist.

Rodney shook his head, "I don't think you understand what I'm—"

"I understand! But if you don't fix this, we're screwed!"

"But..." McKay had staggered forward again, this time up to the windows in the front of the small control room, and Sheppard could see him trying to see through the dark, almost lightless storm—obviously trying to spot the small island housing the Stargate. This whole planet seemed to be made up only of islands, though there had to be a larger land mass somewhere, and the Stargate was housed on one of the smaller ones. The people controlling the islands were the ones they were trying to escape from—though, so far, not very successfully. Rodney stiffened, then pointed out the front, turning to look at Sheppard.

"Look, there's the Stargate! We're not that far! Can't we just—"

"We need to lose them first, McKay! They're too close. They'll be on our heels the second we hit the island. There won't be time to dial!"

"But..."

"Just do it, McKay! That's an order!" Sheppard glared fully at Rodney, his tone brooking no further argument. The scientist swore, then turned and half ran, half staggered to the door at the rear of the control room leading outside, in order to get down to the engine room under their feet. Everyone jumped as he slammed the door open, upping the noise level as the wind screamed inside, before shutting it behind him. A second later, Sheppard's hazel eyes shifted to Teyla, still next to Ronon. "Teyla, go help him!"

The woman gave a nod, running after McKay, her movements no more steady on the rolling deck. Ronon fired a couple more red energy blasts out into the dark blue mire. Sheppard gritted his teeth...and turned the reluctant wheel away from the Stargate.

_______________________________________________________

Teyla gasped as she pushed the door open, the freezing wind and rain stinging her eyes and stealing her breath. Her hand came up, blocking the worst of it, allowing her eyes to blink open and seek out the shadowed figure of Rodney. She spotted him already in the middle of the main deck below, grabbing the top of the curved ladder in the center leading down to the engine room. The wind was puffing out his jacket, as if trying to rip it off his shoulders. He leaned over to hit the button to open up the hatch...and slipped on the slick wooden deck, landing hard on his knees, his hold on the ladder head the only thing stopping him from falling more.

"Rodney!" she shouted, worried. He didn't look up, probably not even aware that she was following him. You couldn't hear yourself think in this much noise. Instead, she just saw him pull himself up to his feet as the hatch opened fully, then turn to get onto the ladder...and lower himself down through the square hatch to the rooms below.

Realizing he would probably close it after himself unless she moved quickly, she climbed down the steep, slippery staircase from the control room to the main deck, and shouted Rodney's name again. He just continued his downward climb through the hatch, disappearing from view.

Hand over hand, she used the webbed tarpaulin holding down the rescue boats and other items on the deck to pull herself to the opening. Hail pelted her arms and face, and icy water started running down the back of her neck, plastering her hair to her skin. She was shaking with cold when she finally managed to lock a hand on the top of the ladder.

"Rodney!" she shouted, looking down, grateful to see the hatch still open.

Amazingly, Rodney looked up, his blue eyes widening in surprise at her appearance. His hand was hovering over the button to close the hatch.

"John sent me to help!" she shouted.

He frowned, then, with an impatient gesture, waved at her to climb down. "Hurry up!"

She did, swinging around onto the ladder and sliding down, rather than climbing. As she hit the deck below, Rodney, still standing there, hit the button to close the hatch. It was instantly quieter as it shut out the wailing rains.

"Come on," he ordered, turning and climbing through a narrow, oval shaped doorway towards what had to be the main engine room, dripping water the entire way.

She followed, staggering still because of the uneven footing, and immediately started sweating, even despite the storm's chill. The engine room was blazingly hot, the fans holding up the hovercraft obviously not venting the engine heat properly. The room was large, as long and as wide as the boat itself, about the size of a good sized lecture hall. The whole place was lit with a red glow, making it difficult to see clearly. Who lit a room with red light?

Teyla wavered a moment in the door, overcome briefly by the abrupt change from freezing to heat, and a headache started beat against her skull. Breathing out slowly, she looked up, eyes seeking Rodney's hunched form as he obviously struggled against the same problem.

"Fix it," Rodney mimicked as he came to a stop in the middle of the hot room, next to what looked like a marble topped workbench table. "Just do it. You can fix anything, Rodney." He turned in a tight circle, and pulled off his jacket as he did so, dropping the sodden garment to the ground. "I'm not a hovercraft expert! I know nothing about boats! What is he thinking I can..." He trailed off, noting Teyla watching him intently. He frowned. "What?"

She had moved close, standing only a couple feet away on the other side of the workbench, her eyes locked on his. "You can do this," she assured him.

He swallowed, shook his head, and looked up. "Fine. Sure. Whatever. First," he said, "I need real light." He turned in a circle again, and pointed around the room, as if using his finger to focus his eyes as he searched out the light controls.

"Why are they red?" she asked, then gasped as the boat rocked hard to the right. She landed hard against the workbench, and Rodney fell into a metal banister separating this small central area from parts of the engine on that side of the craft. He squawked and backed off, shaking his hands as if they'd been burnt.

"Because," Rodney drew in a breath, as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him, still shaking his hands as he looked up, "it's serving as a warning. The lights probably go red to warn whomever is in the engine room to get the hell out." He didn't see the look of shock on her face that his words engendered, looking instead off to his left. "Ha! There." He moved to whatever it was he saw, a control panel that, to Teyla, looked like all the others in this place. He touched the metal cover...and hissed, drawing back his hand and shaking it. "Damn it! This is hell!" He looked back at her, opening his mouth to call for something, but she was already ahead of him. Grabbing up his dropped, still wet jacket, she threw it to him. He nodded thanks, wrapped the damp garment around his hand, and, using the jacket like an impromptu oven mitt, he opened the control panel...and hit three switches.

Instantly, the red lights changed to very bright yellow lights, and Teyla sighed in relief. Pulling off her own jacket and feeling her wet hair curl in the oppressive humidity, she continued to watch Rodney as he stepped back to her side, his still jacket encased hand gripping the metal banister again. She placed her jacket on the stone workbench and rested her hands on her hips as she listened to him mutter.

He was staring around the room again, his bright blue eyes flickering over everything with an intensity Teyla could only wonder at. She knew what he was doing, and it impressed her more than she could ever express in words.

"Okay...two engines," he said softly, "One for...must be for the lift. Probably the smaller. Which means the larger..." his eyes shifted from the left to the right, raising a hand to encompass machinery behind Teyla, "must be for thrust. But speed we have. It's control we lack...meaning...the hydraulics, are....Gotcha. Ah...that could be a problem...So what are those...?"

Teyla tried to follow, looking at whatever it was McKay looked at, trying to understand his half formed sentences, but...it all looked the same to her. All the machines were painted a faded red color, although numbers had been painted on some of them, and different gauges were visible on each one, all jiggling at various points, many of them clearly over their limits. How he could discern the differences in any of the machinery in here just by looking at them was beyond her.

"Sheppard," Rodney suddenly yelled, "Can you hear me?"

Teyla looked to her left, surprised that she hadn't noticed Rodney move over to what looked like a small grate on one side of the room. He was pushing down on a large white button under the grate.

"Sheppard!" he called, his lips close to the grate. "Look on the controls in front of you! If you can hear me, hit whatever new button has just lit up!" McKay closed his eyes, then looked up at the ceiling, as if he could see through it to where Sheppard and Ronon were.

"Rodney?" Sheppard's muffled voice suddenly came through the grate. It sounded even more surprised than Teyla. "I can hear you! Where are you coming from?"

"There's an intercom, obviously!" Rodney yelled back, "And you have to speak up! We can barely hear you!"

"Right! How's it look?" Sheppard shouted.

"I need you to tell me exactly what's wrong with the steering! And anything else you're having trouble with!"

"Turning! I can't turn right easily at all! And every time I cut back to the left, I lose a ton of speed until I'm going straight again! And they're definitely going faster than us! I think the weather and Ronon are the only reason we haven't been completely surrounded yet!"

McKay listened to this all, then turned around. "Okay! I'll...Okay! Just hang on!" His eyes were skimming across the machinery in the room, narrowing and opening. Finally he nodded. Blue eyes locked on Teyla at the workbench, then he was moving back to her side, waving a hand at her to get out of the way.

"Move," he ordered, eyes already studying the workbench. Teyla moved once, then again as he glared at her. He seemed to be looking for something in the long, coffin-like fixture, bending over and running his hands along the wooden sides. Teyla went to stand on the far side from him, then leaned over the top.

"Rodney," she said, trying not to sound desperate in her need to be useful, "What can I do?"

He glanced up at her, frowning, clearly annoyed at the interruption. Then grimaced further as she gave him her most open look—she had been sent to help. There had to be something she could do...

Rodney pressed his lips in a thin line, then pointed towards the communications grate. "Go over there."

She did without question, and he pointed again. "And stay there. To talk to Sheppard you have to press down that button. You can relay for us while I work. You understand?"

She just nodded, not caring in the slightest how rude he was being. She knew her true value, right now, and it wasn’t much.

Rodney was muttering again.

"Tools. There must be...a ha!" He grinned as he bent down, disappearing fully behind the workbench. Teyla watched as he reemerged with a box—how in the world had he found that? A moment later, he had it open and was rifling through it. "Yes!"

He grinned even more as he showed her what he had found—a roll of thick, darkly colored tape.

"Tape?" she asked.

"Well done!" he replied, still grinning. Then he turned and looked around...and jumped over to what, to her, looked like a series of fat metal tubes that ran from floor to ceiling. Steam was pouring out of them from what appeared to be broken seams over his head. His eyes skimmed up, studied them a minute, then looked down at the ground. He couldn't reach high enough to reach the broken seams. Then he looked back at the workbench, and snapped his fingers. A second later, he'd snapped close the toolbox, dropped it to the floor and pushed it up against the metal tubes. Then he climbed up it, unspooled the tape...and taped up the pipes where the steam was coming out.

She could see the sweat pouring down his face and arms, staining his black T-shirt as he worked.

"What are they?" she yelled when he stopped to wipe his bare arm across his wet forehead.

"Hydraulics!" he called back, shouting more as the hissing rose in pitch where he started to tape up the broken pipes. "They're connected to steering. At least part of the problem is here. But something caused them to overload in the first place, to cause them to burst. For now, though, I just need them to work better, then I can...there!" He ripped the tape with his teeth and looked over at her as he pressed the tape to seal the last broken seam in the metal tube. "Ask him if that's better!"

She reached for the comm., but Sheppard beat her to it.

"McKay! You genius! The wheel's turning more easily! Now the rest!"

"Yes, yes, the rest..." McKay muttered, stepping off the box...and falling hard into the workbench as the craft tipped scarily up on its side again. A faint hiss could be heard from the pipes...the tape wouldn't hold for long...

Teyla had fallen into the hot wall, and hissed as she pulled away, her arm stinging from the contact, already turning red. Looking up, she saw the McKay was now climbing up on top of what looked like part of an engine...

"Be..." she started to call, then stopped before she said the word 'careful.' There was no careful here. He didn't respond—probably didn't even hear her, already intent on fixing the next problem.

She bit her lip. Why was she here, really? What she could do to help?

Because all she could do...was watch.

"What we really need," McKay yelled back at her from where he appeared to be straddling to large pieces of machinery, "is more speed!"

She just nodded, not answering out loud. She had no doubt in her mind that he would give them exactly that.

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The fugitive hovercraft, moving more swiftly than before, skidded between two of the windward islands near the Ancestral Ring and suddenly banked hard to the right, almost going up entirely on its side...before landing hard on the inflatable base.

A couple of men were guarding the Ancestral Ring, and they'd been watching the chase with amusement. The hovercraft that the police had been trying to run down was clearly damaged, moving sluggishly, and only the bright red bolts of energy from its pilot house had kept the police at bay. Then, almost abruptly, it started to work better. The police had obviously not been prepared for the sudden burst of speed the tiny hovercraft managed, sending it flying away between the two leeward islands on the far side of the Ancestral Ring's island. The police moved to follow, but now they were the ones who were sluggish. The fugitive hovercraft had disappeared into the foggy night, leaving the police behind.

The two guards had tried to see through the mire, to keep an eye on the chase, but even following it by sound was denied them in the heavy rains. For about ten, maybe twenty minutes, they kept watching, eying the direction in which all the hovercrafts had disappeared.

And then, suddenly, somehow, the formerly damaged hovercraft came from the opposite side of the Ring's island, and was aiming straight for them. It was on its own, having obviously lost its pursuers. Whoever was piloting it was good.

It wasn't until it had almost reached them that the two guards realized it wasn't slowing down.

_________________________________________________________

"Brakes? What do you mean, brakes?!" McKay yelled, standing up next to Teyla on the platform next to the communications grate. His face was bright red, angry. Teyla was leaning away from him, trying not to touch any of the metal walls around them with her bare skin anymore than she already had.

"We're not slowing down! Are there brakes of some kind?"

"Are you kidding? It's a BOAT, Colonel! It doesn't have brakes!"

"But there has to be something! What—"

"Reverse thrusters! Just like a plane! There should be reverse thrusters! Isn't there a reverse button on the throttle?"

"Of course there are reverse thrusters! What do you think I tried first! But I can't get the throttle down that far! It's jammed! I'm not an idiot, McKay! I'm asking if there is another way to slow—"

"No! There isn't! There may be an anchor somewhere on the deck, but—"

"Damn it...okay, okay...hang on...You know, I think we can use this to our advantage. But we'll have to jump."

"JUMP?!" McKay screamed.

___________________________________________________________

The two guards started backing up, watching the craft get closer and closer to shore, aiming straight for them.

"I don't think it's slowing down," one of them said dumbly.

"No, it ain't," the other agreed, his eyes fixed on the ship.

"In fact...is it going faster?"

The second one swallowed, jumping a little as the roar of the hovercraft's engines became even louder over sound of the storm, showing just how close it was now. He took another step back and nodded quickly. "Oh...oh, it's definitely going faster."

"Um..." the first guard turned to his companion, and the second guard met the gaze, and, in that split second glance, a decision was made.

They turned and ran.

Consequently, neither of them saw the four bodies leap off the side of the hovercraft into the ocean just before the hovercraft hit dry land...and didn't stop.

The hovercraft careened up the grass slope, aiming for the small, recently vacated guard house to the left of the Stargate. The massive craft slammed into the side of the wooden structure, splintering it into pieces like it was made of popsicle sticks, and kept going. It aimed straight for the row of trader's shacks on the far side, its seemingly wrathful drive never slowing.

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Four figures staggered out of the water, up the grass beach. The tallest ran forward, straight up to the DHD, and began to dial. The other three moved more slowly, and two ended up supporting the third as complaints about a twisted ankle grew louder and more furious with each step.

The wormhole exploded into life, and the tallest turned around, aiming a red lit blaster at the water behind the three people still coming up the slope behind him.

Police hovercrafts, with horns blaring and lights flashing, were now converging on the small island.

But they wouldn't be fast enough.

Ronon shot one more bolt of energy (just for fun) as he watched his team disappear through the wormhole, then followed.

________________________________________________________________

The wormhole shut down just as the stolen hovercraft, still running at top speed through the empty marketplace, tearing through the lean-tos and spindly fencing with ease, suddenly hit a large boulder, tipped up on its side, crashed....

And exploded in a massive fireball.

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CHAPTER TWO: FACING THE WIND

"What happened?" Elizabeth's voice echoed through the Gateroom, both worried and, beneath that, a touch petulant.

John sighed as he watched her bound down the stairs towards them, her eyes intent on the four very wet members of Sheppard's Team coming through the wormhole from the Alpha Site, towels draped around their shoulders. He straightened, about to answer, when Ronon, coming to a stop right next to him, suddenly began shaking his head like a massive shaggy dog, spraying water everywhere. Sheppard just closed his eyes and took it—it wasn't like he could get any more wet.

"Oh, good GOD! What are you, Marmaduke?" Rodney hopped to one side, trying to get away from the tall man, only to be caught by Teyla before he fell on his rear. She smiled, lifted him up, and, before he could pull away, slung his arm over her shoulder and held on. He grumpily accepted the help.

Elizabeth's eyebrows lifted as she came to a stop in front of them, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "Are you all alright?" She could plainly see that they were, other than Rodney's ankle, so it was a bit of a loaded question. Or rather, it was a question intended to mean the opposite of what it actually meant. She was clearly not pleased, and their not being badly hurt would negate the need for a sympathy factor.

"All right?" McKay gasped, unsurprisingly not picking up on Elizabeth's real intent. "Are you kidding? We look like extras from the Poseidon Adventure, how can you even—"

"Doctor McKay may have sprained his ankle," Teyla supplied quickly, "but we are otherwise not badly hurt."

John managed not to groan at Teyla's honesty, but he failed not to grimace. There went that 'out.'

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at him, not in the least bit fooled. "Good," she said to Teyla. "And your clothes?" She asked because, besides the fact that neither Rodney nor Teyla had their jackets, both had ripped their trousers off at the thighs, making it appear like they were wearing sloppy Bermuda shorts. The towels around their shoulders only added to the effect of vacationers returning from a hellish holiday.

"We ran out of tape," McKay replied, sighing a little and dropping his head tiredly.

"We...," Teyla glanced at McKay, then turned back to Elizabeth, "we were attempting to fix the engine of a hovercraft we had procured, but ran out of the tape we had located in the emergency toolbox. So—"

"We improvised," McKay finished, still with his head down, though he did shoot a dark sideways glance at John. He actually did sound really tired now, despite the snark. Sheppard couldn't actually tell if it was faked or not, though...he had his doubts.

"Yes," Teyla agreed. "We needed to tie off spitting valves and the like, so..." She shrugged, then pulled Rodney higher up on her shoulder. If anything, Rodney drooped further. Sheppard rolled his eyes.

Elizabeth accepted that with a soft, understanding smile, offering Teyla a nod (apparently, the Athosian was automatically seen as blameless, something Sheppard felt was very unfair) before turning a laser-like stare on the Colonel. The eyebrows lifted like a whip-crack.

Aw crap.

"Um..." John pressed his lips together, licked them, then smiled. "Your office?"

"I think you'd better," she said coolly. She glanced at Teyla. "See Rodney gets to the infirmary," she offered kindly. "I'm sure the Colonel can brief me sufficiently." Teyla nodded, and started shuffling Rodney away. John glared daggers at the scientist, who threw him a quick, knowing grin before disappearing, eyes sparkling. Bastard! John knew he was faking! Oh, he was so going to get him for that.

Ronon, meanwhile, made to follow Teyla and Rodney, but the sound of Elizabeth loudly clearing her throat stopped that. Her eyes were narrowed, as if daring the Satedan to try to get away. Ronon lowered his head and turned back around. Sheppard smiled at him, and Ronon gave him a dark look.

Elizabeth pivoted on one foot and stalked back to the stairs, Ronon and Sheppard following unhappily behind.

The people in the Gateroom tried their best not to watch, but it was hard to ignore. Especially when each squelching step of Ronon and Sheppard on the stairs left a small puddle behind. They watched as the two men followed her into her office, then stopped on the far side of the desk as she walked behind it. She turned and crossed her arms, expression stern.

______________________________________________________

"So, I repeat," Elizabeth said, her voice steady and soft inside her office, "what happened? I thought we agreed you were only supposed to shake hands, scan for an underwater Ancient facility, and return...preferably with a nice trade agreement? Instead...you're sopping wet, hurt and, as usual, looking like you only just escaped with your lives."

"Was kinda close," Ronon drawled, shrugging unapologetically. Elizabeth's eyes widened, and she shook her head in exasperation before focusing back on John. He just gave a sheepish smile in agreement, and she lowered her head.

"Damn it, John," she sighed. "What was it this time? And why did you have to return via the Alpha Site?"

"Lost our GDOs," Ronon answered again. Elizabeth stared at him a minute, then looked at both of them more closely, as if realizing for the first time that Sheppard was without his vest and gun.

"I see. Taken from you, I assume. I also assume that you lost all the rest of your equipment as well, except for your weapon, Ronon." Her eyebrows lifted again.

"Turns out," Sheppard said, shrugging, "they didn't like us."

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "Why?"

"It wasn't our fault, I promise," Sheppard said, raising his hands. "At least...not entirely."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "Teyla said they were a peaceful people, and well-known traders in the galaxy. Their oceans providing—"

"That's just it," Sheppard said, shaking his head. "They are traders, and not the regular kind. They're the Gloucester fisherman kind—fiercely competitive and willing to die rather than give up what they see as their domain. When we tried to explain that we only wanted to scan their oceans for a facility, they didn't believe us."

"They thought we were trying to hurt their oceans," Ronon explained.

"Hurt?" Elizabeth repeated. "How?"

"Well...," Sheppard grimaced, "Okay, that might have been my fault."

"He really has to get over the bug thing," Ronon agreed, shaking his head again, sending more droplets to the floor.

Elizabeth winced slightly, glancing at her silk Persian rug (a gift from a former Iranian ambassador), before asking, "Bug thing?"

"They've this ugly black crustacean," Ronon said, when Sheppard seemed disinclined to speak. "Looks like an Iratus Bug."

Elizabeth's expression softened, and she looked at John, who was pressing his lips together tightly and rocking back a little on his heels.

"What did you do?" she asked gently.

"I, uh...might have shot one that was crawling towards me," the colonel replied evenly, not quite meeting her gaze. "Just as Rodney and Teyla were trying to explaining to their leader in his fancy, glass-walled mansion why we wanted to explore their oceans more fully...."

"Glass walled mansion?" Elizabeth repeated. Sheppard winced. "You fired your weapon at a creature in a house made of glass?"

"He shot more than one," Ronon added, smiling a little. "He freaked out and shot every single one in the room, including those in the tanks and three that were hanging on the glass walls."

"I didn't know they were decoration!" Sheppard insisted through clenched teeth. "Or hollow!"

"Walls shattered," Ronon gave a tiny grin at that. "Water and fish and stuff went everywhere..." He had grabbed one of his dreadlocks as he spoke and was squeezing, water dripping steadily down on Elizabeth's rug. She shuddered a little, trying not to react. Instead, she stared at the colonel, eyes pained.

"You destroyed their leader's home." It was more a statement than a question.

"It was apparently a little like their Versailles." Sheppard's features were pinched. "They weren't happy."

"Oh dear God," Elizabeth closed her eyes.

"Didn't matter." Ronon shrugged. "Wasn't like they were gonna help us anyway."

Elizabeth's eyes twitched, and she frowned. "What? Why not?"

Sheppard sighed, "Because they thought Rodney was really trying to steal from them." He looked up, "I just iced the cake, so to speak."

"Yeah, iced," Ronon repeated, and the tiny smile on his face was back.

Elizabeth was shaking her head in confusion. "Steal? Steal what?"

Sheppard shook his head, annoyance in his tone now. "They got it into their heads that we weren't there to look for an underground facility, but to steal their sea-life, to breed our own. And—"

"Compete with them," Elizabeth finished with a single, understanding nod. "I see." She sat down behind her desk. "So, between the mistrust and the," she rolled a hand around in the air, "massive destruction of a sacred landmark...?"

"They arrested us. We escaped. Stole a half-broken hovercraft and found Ronon's gun. Took part in a merry chase, with us as the chase-ees..." Sheppard had been ticking up fingers as he spoke, and he made a fist as he finished with, "And made it home, with nothing more than a sprained ankle and salt-encrusted hair." He smiled, as if to say, isn't that all that matters?

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, then she seemed to deflate. "So, now there's another group of people who hate us," she stated miserably.

"Yeah," John grimaced sympathetically, "probably."

"Great." She released a massive sigh, then looked up at the two men. "Okay. Cross PX2-557 off our list for now. It was unlikely we'd find anything anyway." She shrugged, and gave an odd, forced looking smile. "You two go clean up. Dry off. We'll talk about this more tomorrow."

The two men nodded, turning.

"Oh, and Colonel?" Elizabeth called, halting John in the door. He turned, eyebrows lifted. She offered a simpering smile. "You might want to go talk to Kate again," she suggested, her voice honey sweet, "about the bug thing?"

He just stared at her a moment longer, then turned and left, not dignifying that with an answer.

__________________________________________________

Teyla stepped to one side after she deposited Rodney next to an infirmary bed, watching as he pushed himself up to sit on it with a groan. He lifted the towel still around his shoulders and roughly dried his head before dropping it to the side, leaving his hair sticking up at all angles. She pulled her own towel tighter about her shoulders—she felt very cold still. As if on cue, she shivered.

"Yeah, a couple of blankets would be nice, huh?" Rodney groused, having obviously spotted the shiver. He leaned forward off the bed, trying to see around the corner into the main infirmary. He was clearly looking for Carson. "Where the hell is everyone anyway? Shouldn't Elizabeth have radioed down that we were coming? It's like a ghost town." He cupped his hands round his mouth and called loudly, "Hello! Injured heroes returned from the front here!"

Teyla looked up from where she'd been unconsciously staring at the towel Rodney had dropped. Her mind had been wandering, still mostly back on the planet, back in that engine room. Blinking a little at his shout, she glanced across at the clock on the wall.

"It's 2:30 in the morning," she noted quietly.

"Hmm?" Rodney frowned at her, then he too looked across at the clock. He frowned more when he saw how late it was. "Oh. Still, shouldn't—"

"Doctor McKay?" A young, blonde haired doctor appeared from around a corner, smiling brightly. "I got a call that you were back. Something about an ankle?"

Rodney immediately tensed, his whole body going rigid. "Where's Carson?"

The woman's eyebrows lifted, "Doctor Beckett? He's asleep—as is most of the city. You were not expected back for another day, and unless this is a medical emergency he—"

"Hell yes, it's a medical emergency!" Rodney lifted his abused leg, pointing at his ankle, "Mission injury! Not to mention," he plucked at his wet shirt, "possible near drowning. I need a real doctor! Where's Carson?"

The woman stared at him a moment, obviously taken aback. Teyla tried not to smile. Whoever this doctor was, this was clearly her first time dealing with Rodney. Abruptly, the woman frowned.

"Doctor McKay, I am a real doctor. Doctor Beckett may be the chief medical officer, but—"

"Yes, that's right. He's the CMO. And I'm the Chief Scientist. Only chiefs look at chiefs. So why don't you just give him a call and—"

"He's running on very little sleep as it is, Doctor McKay. Please, I am perfectly qualified to—"

"Qualified, sure," Rodney crossed his arms. "But competent? That I don't know. Biro's qualified, but I wouldn't let her touch my ankle unless it was bluer than your scrubs." He lifted his chin, "And I don't know you at all."

Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her own arms. "You would really wake up Doctor Beckett, who spent eight hours in surgery with Doctor Morrison today and is completely exhausted, just because you don't know if I'm competent?"

McKay smiled, "Yup."

"Well, I won't wake him up." She lifted her chin to match Rodney's.

"Fine, then I will." Rodney reached up to touch his ear, then stopped when all he felt was his own skin. No radio. He frowned, and looked around, obviously looking for a radio. At the last second, he saw the one that the doctor wore. "Um...can I have yours?"

"No." Then she smiled evilly, her hands dropping to rest at her hips. "Want to fight me for it?"

"No, but I bet I could get Teyla to do it. She'd wipe the floor with you—wouldn't you, Teyla?"

Teyla jumped slightly at her name, having drifted off again, and blinked a few times. "What?" she asked. The doctor was looking at her quizzically, and Teyla frowned. What had Rodney been saying? Something about...

"Take her radio from her so I can call Carson," Rodney repeated, pointing at the doctor. Teyla's eyebrows lifted, then pressed down as she gave him a withering look, causing his smug expression to disappear.

"Let her look at you, Rodney," she said firmly. Rodney gave her a betrayed look, as if he expected her to back him up, but Teyla continued to give him a 'don't even think about it' stare. Rodney frowned, and returned his focus to the doctor.

He met the woman's arched stare for a long time, his arms still crossed, and then, without any warning, he deflated, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Fine," he mumbled. "But for the record," he peered up at her through his eyebrows, "I'm only agreeing because I'm exhausted and in pain."

The doctor just gave him a wry look, but made no comment as she stepped forward. "Could you remove your boot, please?"

Teyla was leaning against the end of Rodney's bed, back to feeling invisible as Rodney untied the laces and then hissed in pain when he pulled off the wet boot, and the equally wet sock. Both he and the doctor regarded the sock with disgust as he dropped it to the floor, using only two fingers, as if it were something revolting.

He wasn't wrong.

Teyla's eyes drifted from the sock back to Rodney, noting the burns on his arms and hands as he leaned forward to watch the doctor start to manipulate his ankle. He would have to get those seen to as well. It reminded her that he had not complained once about the burns or how he got them. Images of the scientist working doggedly on the hovercraft's engines came to mind, his deft hands solving problem after problem, getting them the speed and the maneuverability they needed for John to outfox their pursuers. John had then used everything Rodney had given him, the colonel's expertise saving their lives...as always.

She could not have done any of it herself. All she had been was in the way. Standing in that engine room, feeling more and more like a liability. John, Rodney and Ronon had all been vital, while she just tried to hold on.

She closed her eyes, stopping her mind from dwelling on her inability to help back on the planet. It was too late to think of such things. Clearing her throat, she straightened. She needed to do something more than just stand here.

"I should return to the Control Room," she said, looking to Rodney.

He just frowned, then winced as the doctor turned his ankle in a way that obviously hurt. "Why?" he asked, clearly thinking it was a bad idea.

"To help debrief Doctor Weir," Teyla said. "She will need to hear—"

"What? Are you crazy? Elizabeth's going to be furious!" Rodney's face was almost comical as he stared at her. Then he grimaced, shaking his head. "Why subject yourself to that? Besides," he looked back at his ankle in the doctor's hands, "it's not like you're needed. Sheppard and Ronon can handle it. What could you possibly add?"

Teyla stared at him, his words sinking into her skin like acid. She knew he had not meant his words generally, but they were so close to her own thoughts, it was like a slap in the face. And, worse, he was right. Utterly and completely. What could she add? Her eyes lowered to the ground, and she gathered the towel even tighter around her shoulders. "I see your point."

"Heh," Rodney smirked, "told you. Ow!" He looked down at the doctor, "Do you have to twist it so hard! Ease up, She-Ra! What part of 'in pain' did you not understand?"

That earned him a dark look, but the woman did seem to lighten her touch a little. Teyla slumped against the bed again, earning her another look from Rodney, though this time he looked a little puzzled by her behavior, as if noticing her depression for the first time. Then he winced again, in connection with one more press on his clearly swollen ankle.

"Ow! Damn it! Why aren't you done?" he demanded.

"I'm done," the doctor said as she lowered his leg, sounding almost as relieved as Rodney looked at that pronouncement. "I think you sprained it."

"Gee, you think?" Rodney asked with false perkiness. The young woman looked up, about to answer 'yes', when she saw the patronizing look on his face. She grimaced.

"Oh," she said, straightening and placing her hands on her hips. "Well, we should probably take X-rays, just in case."

Rodney just stared at her instead of replying, not letting up his glare. She finally dropped her arms and ducked her head, muttering something about going to get it set up, and quickly walked away.

Teyla grimaced, and stepped forward again. She knew he was uncomfortable with anyone checking on him other than Carson, but still...

"Rodney," she said softly, holding her arms close about her as she looked out the way the young woman had left. "You really should not speak to Carson's—"

"You should get something for those burns," he said suddenly.

Teyla looked back, to find him looking at her arms. Frowning, she stretched them out in front of her, turning them inwards to see the damage better. They were dark and puffy and, in some places, almost purple—just like the ones she had been noticing on Rodney's own arms. And now that she was looking at them—they started to ache. She also felt a little sick to her stomach.

"Oh," she said softly, blinking once, "I had forgotten about my arms."

"You forgot?" Rodney snorted. "Your arms look like someone with palsy tried to steam iron your skin, and you forgot?"

"I fell into the engine room wall a few times," she explained, feeling foolish all of a sudden. She pulled them back, once more hiding them under the cover of the towel. "The floor was unsteady."

"Yes," he said, tone as dry as the desert, "because we were on a boat." He fairly popped the last word.

She swallowed, lowering her arms to her sides again. "Hitting the walls must have burned my arms."

"No, really? And here I thought it was a bad tanning bed accident."

"There was nothing to hang onto next to the communicator. I could not avoid—"

"Teyla," he gave her his best 'you are an idiot' stare, "I know. I was there, remember?"

Her teeth gritted. How could she not? He had been there, pulling off the impossible, while she had done nothing but get hurt. Stupidly, idiotically hurt.

"It is nothing," she said, flushing now, both in anger and embarrassment. "I am fine."

"Oh, please," he sneered. "It is not nothing and you are not fine. We're safe; you don't need to be all ridiculously stoic and proud now."

Teyla winced at that. Why was he pushing her like this? It felt like he was being abnormally caustic, but she willed herself not to respond to his tone in kind. She was feeling miserable enough as it was.

"I will ask the doctor for something," she mumbled finally, looking vaguely in the direction that the young woman had disappeared, and then closing her eyes. She kept her face averted from him deliberately.

Fact was...Rodney had never, ever made her feel small, but, for some reason she could not fully explain, he was making her feel that way now. Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes, and she fought to keep them at bay.

"Teyla," Rodney's voice had changed, softened, "are you okay?" Teyla frowned, blinked to get rid of the wetness, and turned to look at him again. He was watching her worriedly—he may not be the most astute of men, but he also wasn't blind. "Teyla, look, I don't know why I just said all that about the tanning bed and stuff. Look, I just, you know, what with the whole being wet and cold and my ankle hurting and the near death experience thing..." He frowned, knowing he really didn't need to explain it to her after three years. "Just...are you really okay?"

"I answered that already," she said softly, looking away again. "I said, I was fine."

He frowned more deeply. "Yeah, I know, but, are you sure? Because I'm thinking maybe that doctor should look at you first. You're acting a little weird. You might have picked up something from the water, you know. All sorts of parasites live—"

"For the third time, I am fine," she said again, this time a little more angrily.

"Oh, Teyla, seriously, look at you. Look at your arms. You're clearly—"

"Why will you not listen to me?" she demanded, finally turning to look at him, ignoring his jump at her snap. " I may not know as much as you, but I should think I know my own body. I have repeated several times that—"

"Doctor McKay?" the blonde doctor had returned, smiling a little too broadly—it was obviously forced. "The machine is ready." She was pushing a wheelchair in front of her.

Rodney, still looking a bit shocked by Teyla's outburst, pointed at the Athosian. "You need to check Teyla. Something's wrong with her."

The doctor's eyebrows lifted, and she looked at the Athosian. "Teyla? Are you—"

"Oh for...I am fine!" Teyla spat, shaking her head. "There is nothing wrong. I am merely tired."

"Oh, come on, Teyla." Rodney frowned, rolling his eyes a little. "Don't be stupid." He looked at the doctor again, "Make sure she's okay. She's obviously sick."

"I am not stupid, Rodney," Teyla said quietly, defensively.

"Really? Because telling a doctor you're fine when you're obviously having some sort of episode seems pretty stup—"

"I am not having an episode!" Teyla snapped. She could feel her face burning, some of the old rage she had once felt at Sergeant Bates returning. She saw Rodney flinch again at her harsh tone, but she no longer cared. "And how dare you call me stupid, twice!"

Rodney, blinking away quickly, started to splutter. "Teyla. I...I didn't mean....Of course, you're not stupid. Not, I mean, all the time. Just...I mean, it's stupid not to be looked at..." He trailed off at her increasingly bilious expression. It sounded like he was humoring her, and it caused Teyla's ire to rise even higher. She moved to face him, crossing her arms despite how much they hurt and lifting her chin.

"Not all the time?" she repeated, furious now. "So you think I am stupid some of the time?"

Rodney's mouth worked, but no sound came out. Teyla leaned forward, able to meet him eye to eye since he was sitting on the gurney.

"Just because I can not do what you do, does not make me stupid, Doctor McKay," she said softly. He backed away, clearly more afraid of the quiet in her voice now than the loudness from before. "Nor does it make me a fool, however much you may think so. And I will thank you not to say such a thing to me again."

And with that, she turned and walked out of the infirmary, not looking back.

Consequently, she didn't see Rodney's slack-jawed expression, or hear him question the doctor: "Where the hell did that come from?"

_________________________________________________

Teyla's swift stride slowed as she neared the transporter on this level, realizing for the first time that she had no real idea where she was going. She had just been walking, moving through her anger.

But why had she been so angry? And so defensive? She had never felt it necessary to defend herself to Rodney before. She had learned a long time ago that he did not mean what he said, and, when he did mean it, he never meant it to belittle, just "stating fact" in most cases. And, it was true, most of the time it was exactly that—the truth.

She had been acting "stupid" — the doctor could easily have looked at her arms and given her something. She was feeling ill, and her arms did hurt—she should not have said it was nothing. He didn't mean that she was stupid—just that she had said something stupid just then...a distinction she normally would have made without even thinking about it.

But she had not made that distinction. And her reaction had been irrationally angry.

She slowed to a stop, standing still and alone in the empty hallway. She felt tears on her face, and wiped them away impatiently using the backs of her hands before crossing her arms tightly across her chest. They were aching quite a lot now, and she was still shivering with cold. She lowered her head and closed her eyes.

Fact is, it did not take much soul searching to know what was really bothering her.

Rodney had made her feel small...because she felt small. She had never felt so useless as she had in that engine room. It was only compounded by the fact that she had gotten hurt—and she hadn't even been doing anything useful. Everyone had been doing something—John was piloting the craft, using his knowledge of machines to guide them through, as he always did, maneuvering them to safety. Ronon had been defending them—the only one capable of doing so, since he had been able to find his weapon on one of the men guarding them in their cell. And Rodney....Rodney had been achieving the impossible. Yet again.

And she had done nothing more than hit a button on a communications device when ordered. Her only contribution.

And it wasn't the first time that had happened. So often she had felt pushed to the back on missions, watching as John or Rodney pulled off a miracle, or Ronon almost single-handedly defeated some unimaginable enemy. And she just...watched.

What value was she, really? What use? What would her father say, knowing that she had boxed herself into a role of such insignificance? He had raised her to lead, to be at the forefront of the fight...not to just watch.

"Teyla?"

The Athosian looked up and turned around, to see the young doctor jogging towards her. The woman had a kind smile on her face, and a tube of lotion in one hand.

"Teyla," she let out a breath, "I'm glad I caught you. Doctor McKay explained you might have some burns. This should help." She handed Teyla the lotion, and gave her quick instructions on how to use it. "You may also be feeling a little ill," she added perkily, "sick to your stomach, headachy and cold....maybe a little overemotional?" Her eyebrow arched when she said the last, and Teyla grimaced. The doctor pushed on, "All that will pass. Just rest and drink plenty of fluids." When she was finished, she studied Teyla moment, her eyes narrowing a little in contemplation. She tilted her head. "Are you sure you're all right? Other than the burns, I mean?"

Teyla stared at her, wishing that she didn't feel the liquid burning at the corners of her eyes. She knew what that meant, and she was terrified she would not be able to stop them from falling.

"I am fine," she said, her voice no calmer than she felt.

The young woman frowned some more, and shook her head. "Clearly," she said softly, "you are not."

Teyla looked away, willing herself not to blink, and for the liquid to reabsorb. She did not know this doctor well—she had covered for Carson a few times in the infirmary, Teyla knew, but not often enough to make any real impression.

Fact was, she was a stranger.

"Teyla?" the doctor prompted again.

Teyla's eyes dropped to the lotion in her hand. "Thank you for the lotion, Doctor."

The woman just nodded, the sucked in her lips a little. "Look, why don't you come back? Burns, even first degree ones, can take quite a toll. I can see if there is anything else we—"

"I would rather not."

The doctor's eyes softened. "If this is about Doctor McKay," she tilted her head, "if you like, I can run interference. I know he is rude, but—"

"I know how Doctor McKay can be," Teyla said sharply, frowning. "I would think that I know him a little better than you do."

"Oh," the doctor's face flushed, and she nodded, "Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I only meant—"

"No, it is..." Teyla sighed heavily, and closed her eyes, gathering her calm back around her. "I am the one who should apologize, Doctor. I know what you meant." Opening her eyes again, she offered a smile, which the other woman obviously saw right through. Teyla was feeling out of sorts, clearly, first yelling at Rodney and now this woman who was only doing her job. She shrugged, "It has been a long day."

"Yes, I see that," the doctor's voice was very soft now. "I was only trying to help."

Teyla's eyes lowered. Slowly, she nodded. "I know the feeling," she noted quietly. Then she frowned, "Unfortunately, sometimes we are simply incapable of providing the kind of help that is truly needed. Limited by our lack of knowledge, or of understanding, or of experience. It is something we just have to accept." She gave a single, cold nod, then turned and walked to the transporter. "Thank you again for the lotion," she called over her shoulder as she stepped inside and hit the panel....escaping.

___________________________________________________

CHAPTER THREE: ON THE WATER'S EDGE

Teyla did feel better in the morning, though still not wholly well. Going through her morning exercises, wincing at each stretch that pulled on her sore arms, she considered her behavior of the night before, berating herself for having reacted as she did. She hated being out of control, and regardless of whether it was a side effect of her injuries, the late hour, or simply the frustrations of the day, she should never have blown up at Rodney in that manner.

With that thought in mind, she resolved to locate him this morning to apologize before she headed out to new Athos.

As was typical, returning Gate teams had the day following a mission “off”—that is to say, there were no scheduled meetings other than a formal one that Elizabeth would schedule to discuss the outcome of the mission, and, at least on Teyla and Ronon’s part, they were expected to relax (no one expected Rodney to relax—the universe would crack if that happened—and John just had too many responsibilities). Teyla usually took advantage of the time to visit her people, but this time she would not leave until she had spoken to Rodney.

Breakfast was quick, and a glance at her email in her quarters told her that Elizabeth had scheduled the meeting for 10:00 a.m. Noting the time on her watch, she knew she had about an hour before then, so…perhaps she should find him now.

The trip to the infirmary did not take long, and she smiled at Carson when he spotted her. He seemed surprised when she asked about Rodney. Teyla herself was surprised when he said Rodney had been sent home last night, not long after she left—she had expected Rodney to stay the night. Thanking Carson, she turned and headed towards the labs. Rodney’s room was next door to his main lab, which was only fitting.

But Rodney wasn’t in either location.

Feeling a little frustrated, she decided to wait until after the meeting to see him. A little downcast, she headed back to her rooms to catch up on the rest of her messages.

Consequently, finding Rodney hovering before her door, gripping something white in his left hand while the other held onto a crutch, instantly brought a smile to her face. He was obviously dithering over whether to knock or hit the chime.

“Rodney?” she called, slowing as she came up beside him, trying to dim the smile she knew she still sported. He looked pale still, and wore his old, long sleeved blue shirt—she recognized it as his softest. He let go of the crutch to raise his hand in greeting, and smiled sheepishly.

“Hey, there you are. I was just...well, coming to...” He glanced at her door, his face betraying his discomfiture, and when she raised her eyebrows at him as he turned back, he quickly looked down. “Look, I just wanted to say…you know that I…what I meant last night was…look, you’re not stupid, okay?” He looked up again, his brow furrowed. “I never meant to say that, and I certainly didn’t mean it, and you really shouldn’t twist people’s words like that. I mean, you of all people know me. You know how I think. And you know I don’t think that way about you. Have I ever implied that I think that way about you? No. In fact, you’re one of the few people around here I don’t think that of. And yet, you snapped at me for no good….” He stopped suddenly, as if finally hearing himself, then blushed furiously. Teyla couldn’t not smile. Only Doctor Rodney McKay could deliver an apology angrily.

“Rodney…”

“Damn it,” he snapped. “Why am I so bad at this?” He looked at her as if she could answer the question, a desperate look on his face, his left hand squeezing the object in it tightly. Teyla saw that it was a tube, and on closer inspection, recognized it as the same one that the doctor had given her last night. Seeing her notice it, he thrust hit forward. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. For being me. For being an ass. I know what I said before about you twisting my words didn’t sound like an apology, but it was. And here. I didn’t trust that pre-schooler doctor to give this to you after I told her you needed it, so I brought you some. You’re supposed to put it on three…Was it three? Might be four….Anyway, put it on several times a day over the burns and it’ll help. There.” He nodded once, as if proud of himself.

She was smiling broadly now, taking the badly squished tube from his hand. The gesture was so sweet, she didn’t have the heart to tell him she already had some. Instead, she just gave him a nod of her own.

“Thank you, Rodney.” She looked down at the tube, “But you do not need to apologize. I was…,” she pursed her lips, “I did not behave well. If anyone should apologize, it is me.” She looked up again, to find him regarding her with a puzzled expression. “I am sorry for my rudeness last night. It will not happen again.”

His eyes widened slightly, but the puzzled expression did not leave. So, he waved a hand, as if to say ‘not to worry’, though she could see he was still blushing, his eyes looking anywhere but at her. “Um, okay. If you say so. Apology, um, accepted. That’s, uh, that’s fine. So,” he glanced at her briefly before looking away, “that means you’re not mad at me anymore, right?”

She grinned, “No, Rodney. I am not mad at you anymore. I was never really mad at you. You were just being you.”

“Good, good. Right,” he heaved a sigh, “in that case, I’ll see you at the meeting, yes? Great.” And, abruptly, without waiting for her reply, he was gone, limping away down the corridor in the direction of the transporters as fast as the crutch would take him.

Teyla’s smile faded as his uneven steps disappeared, and her hand squeezed the tube.

No, my friend, she thought, I was never mad at you. But I am still furious with me.

__________________________________________________

A little over a week later, Teyla found herself standing still in the mess, resting her tray of food on her arms and looking up at the stairs at the tables. Not far from her, Rodney and Doctor Zelenka had their heads together over a data tablet, their food untouched and pushed to the side. She noted Rodney still had his left ankle propped up on a chair, wrapped in an ace bandage, and a cane resting against his chair. He didn't have to worry about it preventing anyone from sitting with them, though—the mess hall was reasonably crowded today, but no one dared share the table with the two scientists.

And with good reason.

Whenever Rodney and Doctor Zelenka sat together with a tablet, it meant they were working. More importantly, it meant their meal would probably end in shouting, flailing arms and, more often than not, flying food products. Yes, it was always safer to stay away.

She grimaced slightly, and her eyes shifted to a table about three over from the two scientists, where John was sitting with Ronon, the two quietly eating together. Without another thought, she headed over and set her tray down at the head of their table. Two sets of eyes glanced up, and John smiled.

"Hey," he greeted warmly.

"Colonel," she sat down, pushing the tray forward a little to fit better on the table. Her eyes found Ronon's, who nodded at her when she smiled at him. "Ronon."

"Good sparring session?" John asked, biting off the end of a carrot stick after he spoke.

"The personnel who came are definitely progressing," Teyla nodded, lifting a spoon to stir the stew served for lunch. "A number of Rodney's team are actually doing very well. I have discovered, for example, that Doctor Vogel was once on something called a 'high school wrestling team.' He showed me some of his moves, and I think they can be included to make him more effective in a hand to hand fight."

"He's a big guy," Ronon noted, popping several green grapes into his mouth. "Vogel," he added, as if he felt the need to define the pronoun.

"Yes," she nodded, "He is. But I believe there is a lot of muscle under all that..." she trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"Fat?" Ronon asked, with his usual tact. She just gave him a wry look in reply.

"They all need to at least be proficient," John said, grabbing another carrot stick to chew. "Thank you for taking this time to help train them."

"When do I get them?" Ronon asked, speaking with a mouth full of grapes.

"When they're strong enough to withstand your," John pursed his lips, as if contemplating the answer, then smirked, "unique training style."

Ronon just snorted, popping some more grapes into his mouth.

There was a shout, and all three people at the table turned to see Rodney suddenly stand up from his table with Radek, staggering slightly on his still sore ankle. He shouted something which was clearly insulting, because Doctor Zelenka's face turned red, and the Czech responded in his own language, jabbing a finger at Rodney. Rodney just shouted back again in the trader's language—what the Atlantian's called "English"—obviously arguing his point, and crossing his arms. Radek counter-pointed with words of his own, and Teyla frowned. They were both speaking in English now but...she had no understanding of what they were arguing about. Rodney shouted again, and Radek once more responded in Czech. Rodney then replied with what John had once told her was a "Russian insult", grabbed his cane and stormed off at a fast limp, leaving Radek alone at the table.

The Czech closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, then shook his head. Opening his eyes again, he looked down at the tablet still in front of him, and started working again.

"That was a short lunch," Ronon noted, popping the last of his grapes on his tray. "Those two always waste a lot of food."

Teyla offered a crooked smile, noting that, indeed, Rodney had left a half eaten tray of food on the table with Radek. Before she could say something about it, though, Ronon was up out of his seat and heading over to the scientist's table. She and John both watched in amusement as Ronon grabbed Rodney's tray without a word to Radek, who only jumped a little at the interruption of his thoughts, and brought it back with him to their table. Radek watched the Satedan for a few moments, then shrugged...and returned to his work.

Ronon shoved his own empty tray aside, put Rodney's down...and proceeded to start eating it, digging into the half eaten stew with gusto.

"You're amazing, you know that?" John asked, eyeing him in mock disgust.

"Food shouldn't be wasted," was Ronon's only reply, once again speaking around a mouth full of food.

John chuckled...and reached over to grab Rodney's uneaten pudding. Ronon just grunted.

Teyla, meanwhile, was still watching Radek. She was thinking about how little she had understood of their argument, and it in turn, turned her mind to Rodney's work...

She had not forgotten the way she had felt a week ago. That engine room haunted her dreams every night, sometimes imagining herself tied to the walls, fighting bonds that she herself had created, Rodney calling out to her for help, but unable to do anything as the hovercraft exploded around her ears...

Her jaw steeled. She needed to do something. She could not live with this any longer.

"Colonel," she turned her head and leaned forward against the table, "may I ask you a question?"

Sheppard's eyebrows lifted, and he nodded. "Sure."

"Rodney," she licked her lips, as if trying to find the right words, "has had a great deal of schooling to get to where he is, correct?"

John nodded, "Yup."

"How much?"

"Oh, um," John's brow furrowed, "well...he has three PhDs, that I know of, probably a Masters degree or two and, of course, his initial BA and all the post-doc stuff he's done, though that's not so much schooling as..." He trailed off when he saw the puzzled look on her face, obviously realizing that the acronyms meant nothing to her, and sighed. "Years, Teyla. Many, many, many years. I think it would be safe to say that, for at least a dozen years of his life, Rodney rarely saw the sun outside of his lab."

"Explains a lot," Ronon muttered offhandedly.

When they looked at him, the Satedan gave a half smile as he chewed. "About why he lacks, you know..." He waved a food encrusted hand.

"Social skills?" Teyla suggested.

"A tan?" John threw in.

"Friends," Ronon finished, taking another bite of stew. Then he shrugged, "Besides us, of course."

"Of course." John smirked at Ronon's answer, and returned his gaze to Teyla.

"Why do you ask?" he asked her.

"Oh," she looked down, then over at Radek. "Just...thinking about how little I know about what Rodney does. That is to say," she shook her head slightly, "I know what he does, but not how he does it. And..." She turned her gaze to John, "What about you, Colonel? How much training have you had?"

His eyebrows lifted, "Me?"

"Yes."

"Uh, well," John looked uncomfortable, as he usually did when asked to speak of his past, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck before answering. "I actually had a little bit myself. Besides all the pilot training, I did a fair bit of schooling, needed to know my way around machines and technology and stuff, the same as anyone in my line of work. But, of course, field training is what taught me most of what I know." He shrugged, then smiled, "As you both know, until you get out there, it's all theory. When it's real, that's when you really learn."

"Can't argue with that," Ronon said, ripping at a chunk of bread and chewing.

Teyla grimaced slightly, knowing that John was beginning to sense where she was headed, and was trying to prepare for it. But she set her jaw and simply nodded. John's eyes narrowed.

"What's this all about, Teyla?" he asked.

She tilted from side to side before answering, drumming up courage. "Well," she gave a small smile, "much in the same way we have been teaching the scientists how to handle themselves in a fight, I was wondering how difficult it would be to learn a little of what they are skilled at. You, for example, are able to do both." She smiled again, "It is enviable."

John's eyebrows shot up, "Seriously?"

Teyla gave a single nod. "Yes."

John looked away, his face showing a hint of embarrassment, "Yeah, but, Teyla, as I said before, what I do, a lot was just learned in the field, and you are already—"

"Actually," Teyla interrupted, "I was thinking more particularly about what Rodney does. When I was younger, I was often told I had an aptitude for mechanical things, and I thought—"

"Whoa," John leaned forward, "What Rodney does? Teyla, hang on. Before you go any further, look..." He grimaced. "I get what you're saying, I do, but...I'll be honest here. I'm not sure how much of what the scientists here do can be easily taught. Rodney....Rodney in particular...it's more than just learning and knowing his stuff. Rodney is," he held up a finger, "and don't you dare tell him I said this," his eyes narrowed, "but he really is unique. He works at a level no one here can reach, not even Radek. It's a natural gift he has. What he does for us out in the field is...well, no one else could do what he does."

Teyla lowered her eyes at that, considering his words, then looked up, readying herself. "I am not speaking of reaching Rodney's level, Colonel. I am talking about reaching a level where Ronon and I could be of more use to both him and you when we are off world." She glanced at the Satedan, who was now looking at her like she had done something horrifying by including him in this thought. She gave him a stern look, "Did you not once tell me you wished you knew a little more of what Doctor McKay does? When we were keeping watch on M2G-332?"

"I was bored," he defended. "We were on a mission, and I had nothing to do."

Teyla's eyes narrowed, and her lips quirked in amusement. "You were not bored, Ronon. I think I know you a little better than that. You were anxious, as was I, about the fact that, as is often the case, you and I were unable to provide the sort of help Doctor McKay or Colonel Sheppard might have needed, should something have gone wrong."

Ronon just shrugged, as if to say, 'you can think whatever you want to think. I'm not admitting to anything.'

"But," Sheppard frowned, still watching Teyla. "I'm still not sure—"

"All I am trying to say, Colonel," Teyla looked at John to interrupt him, then back to Ronon, "is that Ronon and I are often only in the background on our missions and even on Atlantis from time to time, because of our limited knowledge on the technological front." In return to this, Ronon just sort of grimaced at her, so Teyla returned her attention to the Colonel. "This is something that has been concerning me a great deal lately, John. Both you and Rodney have certain vital skills we do not. If something were to happen to either of you while we are off world...." Her eyebrows lifted, knowing she did not need to complete the sentence.

John frowned, then frowned some more. "I'm not saying it's not a good idea, Teyla, it's just..." He looked down at his now half-eaten purloined pudding. "What could you learn?" he asked eventually.

"I do not know. Obviously, most things are not..." She shook her head. "Maybe nothing," she admitted, her voice softer.

"Well," John sighed, then smiled, "You know what? Go ahead. Knock yourself out. I agree that it's a great idea, if it works. But, as a warning, I'm not sure how big Rodney is into teaching people, even you."

Teyla looked at him, then smiled. Her eyes shifted back to Radek. "I was not thinking of asking Rodney."

_____________________________________________________

CHAPTER FOUR: FEELING THE WATERS SHIFT

It was a little over a month later when a very strange message was relayed to Atlantis via the Alpha Site, delivered by a tearful and concerned Doctor Simpson, saying she needed help. Elizabeth frowned, not sure what to make of the request, and encouraged the Site's chief scientist to come through as soon as she could.

A beat later, Simpson was through the wormhole from the Alpha Site, moving almost at a run. Her straight, long dark blond hair was clipped painfully tightly behind her head, as if forced back in a fit of fury, and bloodshot blue eyes locked on Elizabeth as the leader leaned over the balcony. An older dark-haired Athosian woman, whom Elizabeth knew to be called Dora, followed her.

"Doctor Simpson?" Elizabeth straightened up, worried by the grim faces both women wore. "What is it?"

"Someone has Connam," Simpson replied, and her arms shook a little at her sides. "We have to go and get him! Now!"

______________________________________________________

The traveling Pegasus trader, Eric Connam, had been visiting the Alpha Site on and off quite a lot over the last year, always bringing his overburdened flatbed truck of goods, his massive Pegasus version of a draft horse, and a ready smile. Those amongst the expedition who did not go off-world on missions—which was most of them—looked forward to his visits with great excitement, lured by the promise of real otherworldly goods. They traded things they'd brought from Earth – binoculars, reading glasses, penlights, and anything else they could buy at the local convenience store – in return for clothes, weird technology that Connam had found, unusual stones for jewelry, and really any other curios he might have picked up on his travels.

Connam loved the Atlantians, not just for their extremely unique goods, but also because he had become absurdly fond of one particular Atlantian—Doctor Simpson. A fondness that was reciprocated by the very independent (but still a sucker for fresh picked daisies) scientist.

So, when he was late for his "anniversary" of the first time he'd met Simpson—one which she had been looking forward to for weeks—she had become worried.

And, when his absence grew into almost a week after the scheduled date, she had politely asked some of the Athosians to ask after him on Belkan.

It wasn't good news.

"Apparently, there is this planet..." Simpson was nervously smoothing down her trousers as she paced inside Elizabeth's office, the wrecked look on her face the only reason McKay didn't immediately jump on the unfinished sentence. Sheppard's whole team was there, along with Dora, who was watching the agitated blonde scientist with concern.

Sheppard cleared his throat and sat forward. "Uh, what kind of planet?"

"A bad planet," Simpson replied miserably, still pacing and not really looking at anyone in the room. Sheppard shared a look with McKay, as if to say, 'when are they not?'.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed briefly. "A bad planet?"

"Well..." Dora stepped forward, the tall woman looking to Simpson for permission to speak. The blonde gave it with a sharp nod, and turned around so that her back was to the room. She was still shivering a little.

"Well," Dora said again, this time to the room at large, "not a bad planet, exactly. More a planet we do not know much about, other than rumor. The people there are famous for being both isolationist and for being technological savants."

"Savants?" Sheppard repeated, glancing again at McKay, who had frowned at the word. "What does that mean?"

"The planet is the current home of the Kaveer," Dora said, looking at Teyla.

"Oh," Teyla breathed out the word heavily, and all eyes turned to her. She grimaced under the scrutiny, meeting all their eyes evenly.

"The Kaveer," she explained, "are a nomadic people, much like the Athosian people were. They rarely stay in one place for too long. Once there is a threat of Wraith," she sighed, "they move on."

"They were never known to be an aggressive people, at least, not in the past," Dora said, taking back the thread. "Recently, however..."

"In the last fifteen or twenty years or so," Teyla agreed, nodding.

"...they have been earning a reputation as difficult and miserly," Dora continued. "They used to be frequently seen at the markets, like the one on Belkan, trading the technology they had invented in return for foodstuffs and other necessities. But the last time I remember meeting one was when I was still a child..." Dora brushed back silvering hair as she spoke, the only visible sign that the woman's age was about the same as Elizabeth, despite an unlined face. "They traded tools such as heaters, fire-lighters, air coolers...things like that."

"But they are rarely seen now," Teyla said. "There was a rumor for a while that the Wraith had finally wiped them out, as has happened to so many others who have reached too high a level of development." She gave a soft, sad smile at that before continuing. "Then they came back, but are still seen only rarely."

Dora nodded. "When they do come to the markets these days, it is only to seek out unusual technology, and usually only if tipped off that something new has been found. They do not trade for foodstuffs or cloths, as they used to. We simply assumed that they had managed to become more self-sufficient than they used to be.” Dora shrugged, glancing at Simpson, who was still standing tight lipped across the room from her, a study in tension. “They also no longer trade their technology. Not without something impressive in return. They hold their work and science very close.”

“So,” McKay pursed his lips for a moment, “let me get this straight—we’re talking about a community of scientists here?”

“In a way,” Teyla agreed. “When I was little, I remember meeting a Kaveer my father was friends with at the markets, and he did remind me a little of Doctor Zelenka in his exuberance. But…not since then. And no other Kaveers I have met were like that—they were more,” she frowned, as if seeking the right analogy, “like the Genii.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” Rodney noted quietly.

“You mean, more militant?” Sheppard pressed. Teyla nodded.

“Yes.”

“It is worse than that now, Teyla,” Dora said. “You have not traded as much in the markets lately, so you would not know the most recent gossip.” She turned to look at the gathered group. “These days, the Kaveer have earned another reputation—as thieves.”

“Thieves?” Elizabeth prompted, leaning forward on her arms at her desk.

Dora nodded. “A rumor has been circulating that, when they can not trade for technology they find interesting, they steal it. Or...that they trick those whom they believe to have knowledge of new technology to visit their planet," she glanced at Teyla, "and those people are never seen again."

"Dora, please," Teyla frowned unhappily, shaking her head a little, "you should not propagate such rumors." Teyla looked to Elizabeth, "Theft is not unknown at the markets, of course," she said, her brow furrowed as she returned her gaze Dora. "But kidnapping? The Kaveer...?"

"I understand your reticence, Teyla, I do. Unfortunately," Dora grimaced, "we have reason to believe the rumors are true. We even, to a degree, have proof."

Teyla frowned more at that, and Dora nodded. Simpson emitted a tiny whimper, and her arms cinched even more tightly around her thin frame. Teyla glanced at the other doctor, before focusing back on Dora.

"What sort of proof?" she asked carefully.

"We visited the planet," Dora said. "Under the pretence of seeking a new trade alliance, we thought we might see if we could find out what happened to Connam."

"And did you find him?" Sheppard asked, leaning forward on his knees.

"No," Dora shook her head. "But," she grimaced, pursing her lips, then looked Elizabeth straight in the eye, "we did see Dodge."

"His horse?" Sheppard straightened in his chair. Connam's large draft horse was an unmistakable creature, nearly one and a half times the size of a large Clydesdale and ridiculously strong.

"Dram," Dora corrected, but she was nodding, knowing that was what the people from earth called the creatures. "We saw her grazing in one of the fields near the main compound, boxed in with a variety of other animals, her coloring and size making her instantly recognizable even though she appeared...unwell." She shook her head, "There was no sign of either the trader's wagon, or the man himself. And we were able to see quite a bit."

"Oh, that is wrong," Sheppard nodded. He looked at Elizabeth, "She's right. Connam doesn't let Dodge just wander. Not unless he can see her. And wherever Dodge is, the wagon should have been nearby."

"Yes, but...." Elizabeth frowned at her military commander, "surely, Connam does not always need to be near his animal. When he visits other planets, does he not stable...?"

"No," Dora answered for the colonel. "Connam sleeps in his wagon. And he doesn't let his dram get that far from it, either. And I have never seen Dodge look that thin." She frowned. "Connam would never allow it."

"He loves that horse," Simpson sniffed, finally rejoining the conversation. She was looking at Elizabeth through watery eyes. "As much as he loves that wagon. He once told me that he rarely lets either of them out of his sight, because of what they mean to him. If Dodge is wandering alone, where he can't see her, then something has happened to him."

"I have to agree. I have worked with him a great deal over the past year," Dora glanced at Simpson, "there is something wrong."

"I think they're right, Elizabeth," Sheppard agreed, his expression grim.

"Yeah," McKay raised a hand, "me too."

"If he is in danger," Teyla said, stepping forward to show her agreement, "then we owe it to him to try and help. After all, he aided in our escape from—"

"I know," Elizabeth raised a hand to cut her off, shaking her head. "I was there, if you recall." The expedition leader sighed and glanced around the room, meeting the faces in front of her one by one. Finally, she gave a nod.

"Okay," she said, "but we are not going in without some sort of plan." She looked at Dora, "we need everything you can tell us that you saw on that planet, and everything you know about the Kaveer." She then turned to the red-eyed Simpson, her face solemn. "If he is being held there against his will, we will get him out."

————————————————————————————————

CHAPTER FIVE: HEADING INTO THE FIRE

"I hate these kinds of plans," Rodney sighed, rubbing at the tiny scar on his shoulder where Carson had implanted a sort of 'on and off' trigger for his subcutaneous transmitter. It would allow him to signal for help once they found Connam. "Why is it always me that has to walk into the lion's den, eh?"

"Because you’re the least tasty looking," Ronon informed him over the radio, and Rodney could easily imagine the smart ass grin on the Satedan's face. The scientist glared at the underside of the jumper as it lowered down from the ceiling in front of the Stargate.

He moved down a step from where he was standing on the main stairs, pointing up at the jumper. "I'll have you know plenty of people think I'm—"

"Uh, guys?" Sheppard's amused voice interrupted, "can we argue about McKay's tastiness later? We're about to pass through the Gate. Rodney? Are you and Teyla ready to follow?"

"We are ready," Teyla assured, standing on the steps at Rodney's back, resting a hand on his other shoulder. Her subcutaneous transmitter had been similarly altered, but she gave no sign of discomfort (Of course, Teyla could have her arm sawed off, and she'd probably just grimace slightly. She and Ronon had tied for the title of 'most unlikely to ever admit to pain' down in the labs.)

"Good. Just keep your radios on. We'll be listening."

Teyla smiled. It was the smile of someone who has had the same instruction repeated to her several times. "We will." (Teyla had also won for 'most likely to eventually slap Colonel Sheppard.' Naturally, Rodney had thought up that category—he was quite proud of that one.)

Sighing again, Rodney looked down, fiddling with his vest as if checking his pockets, then rubbing his chest—to his surprise, he was missing the weight of the P90. To give the illusion of harmlessness (which, let's be honest, wasn't hard), he was unarmed except for his knife. Teyla was the only one carrying weaponry.

Another reason he didn't like this plan.

He looked up, fixing his eyes on the two people watching them from the Control Room, and raised his voice to be heard more clearly. "I just want to go on record as saying, I hate this plan."

"So noted," Elizabeth said from where she was leaning over the balcony, Simpson standing by her side. The expedition leader turned her attention to the jumper as it finally settled just above the Gateroom floor, "Good luck, John."

"See you soon," he promised, just as the jumper shot through the wormhole to Kaveer. Rodney sighed heavily, then moved to follow on foot, Teyla at his side.

"And be careful," Elizabeth called out as they stepped through the event horizon.

The plan was pretty simple, in that much of it was going to be off the cuff. John, Ronon, Major Lorne and three other marines were to stay hidden in the cloaked jumper, so that it seemed as if only two people had come through the Gate—Teyla and Rodney. When the Kaveer showed up, Teyla was to introduce Rodney as a scientist wishing to trade knowledge. Rodney was to carry enough toys with him to impress, without giving any indication of exactly where they came from. The hope was that they would be taken to the same place as Connam, and Teyla would separate from Rodney and see if she could find the trader. Once she did, either she or Rodney would signal Sheppard in the cloaked jumper, and they'd get them all out.

Dora's information on the planet was pretty sparse, and, in the end, the best they could do was work off assumptions. For example, Dora said that there were no people watching the Gate but that, somehow, the Kaveer had been alerted to their presence. Before Dora and her companions had moved more than a half a mile down the road leading away from the Stargate, they had seen a transportation vehicle bearing down on their location. Therefore, there was obviously some sort of sensor on the Gate alerting the Kaveer to any wormhole activity. Hopefully, it was not a camera, so they would not see the Jumper before it was able to cloak.

She also informed them that the Kaveer lived inside a series of white-walled compounds several miles away from the Gate, protected inside a shallow valley of sorts. She saw no overt signs of weaponry, advanced or not, and the people they had met were peaceful, albeit reluctant to engage in talks.

The planet itself was apparently fairly flat around the Stargate, and the flora was low-lying. No trees, except a few stunted juniper like bushes here and there, and a lot of sagebrush like grass. In general, it sounded a lot like a desert location, similar to that of the American Southwest. The compounds themselves did not sound large, and there was no indication of any other structures outside of the ones Dora saw. Of the population—it was small. Maybe a couple hundred, at most. That was not atypical of most Pegasus populations these days.

It was also, apparently, very hot and very dry. Dora recommended bringing plenty of water, and suggesting that their usual black uniforms "might not blend."

Consequently, Rodney and Teyla were wearing light and beige colored clothing as they walked through the Gate, slipping sunglasses over their eyes to fend off the harsh glare of the sun. Only their tack vests remained black.

"Christ," Rodney swore, resting his hands on his hips and looking up at the unyielding sun, "she was right about it being hot."

Teyla just grimaced, not disagreeing as the heavy air settled around them like a thick cloak. She could feel the sweat prickling at the base of her neck already.

"That must be the road," she said, pointing to where a rutted, dirt track led clearly away from the Stargate.

Rodney just nodded, then looked up again at the cloudless blue sky. Of course, nothing was visible, though he knew the Jumper had to be just overhead. They were to maintain radio silence as long as possible, but it was still a bit disconcerting not knowing for sure that Ronon, Sheppard, Major Lorne and the other marines were up there, watching their progress. He just had to have faith that they were, and that they could hear every word he and Teyla said.

With a sigh, he pulled out his handheld Lantean scanner, doing a quick review of the area. His eyes lifted as he noted something a few feet away from the Gate, hidden inside a juniper-like bush. Walking up to it, he ran the scanner over it.

"A sensor," he noted. "Not visual, but auditory. A listening device—its how they know when the Gate is activated." He smiled a little, leaning over to peer at it—it was a little rudimentary, but obviously effective. "Hello," he called into the bush. "We're coming to find you. Just wanted to let you know." He straightened and ran the scanner a little more over the area. He found a few others sensors, but little else. Fact was, there wasn't much else to see at all, other than the DHD, which looked like it always did. Still, he frowned.

"What is it?" Teyla asked, coming up along side. "Is something wrong?"

"No, just...there's an unusual level of power flowing to this Gate from the DHD." He glanced up at it, as if expecting it to look different. "It's drawing power at a rate I've only ever seen our Stargate do. It's odd."

"Odd...in a bad way?" she asked, sounding worried. "As in, would it effect our ability to dial out?"

"No," Rodney frowned, then shook his head. "It's just odd. I'm not sure what it is." He glanced over at the DHD, and headed over to it, feeling more than seeing her match his stride. "If you thought we had the time, I could take apart the DHD and see what extra—"

"Unfortunately," Teyla rested a hand on his arm before he reached the device, "I do not think we do have that kind of time. After all," she glanced at the juniper bush, "did you just not inform the Kaveer we were coming?"

Rodney grimaced, screwing up his face a little. "Right, right," he said to her, punctuating it with a sigh, "let's go."

_______________________________________________

"They're coming in loud and clear, at least," Major Lorne said, settling back in the co-pilot's seat of the air conditioned jumper. He smiled, trying to inject an air of levity. "And considering how red-faced McKay looks already, gotta say, I'm glad we're not out in this heat."

Sheppard grunted noncommittally at that, his eyes not leaving his people on the ground. They'd been watching Teyla and Rodney mill about, as Rodney located the sensors that the Jumper had picked up instantly without even trying. Now, the two were quietly walking away, towards the road.

John was frowning now, looking off generally into the distance, where the Jumper had shown a concentration of energy spikes. The road leading away from the Stargate headed in that same direction. McKay said something over the radio about picking up the same energy readings on his little scanner from that way, and Teyla asked how strong they were. The scientist's answer matched what the Jumper had told them already—powerful ones.

"Wonder what he meant about the Gate drawing more power than normal," Lorne said then as they moved slowly away from the Gate, tracking their people below. In clear response to his thought, the HUD changed, showing readings on the Gate. Unfortunately, the information that skimmed past meant little to the men on the ship.

John glanced at the HUD screen Lorne pulled up, then mentally swapped it back to the life signs detector. Rodney and Teyla glowed a different color than the rest, their transmitters working nicely.

"Let's just focus on our people," he said, the soft edge in his tone the only sign that he was worried. Lorne grimaced, and returned his gaze forward.

"Yes, sir."

_________________________________________________

As expected, the two Atlantians hadn't moved far down the dirt road before a clearly discernable dust cloud appeared on the horizon. Teyla stopped in front of McKay, holding up a hand to him, and waited, her P90 resting across her arms. Rodney lifted the scanner in his right hand, focusing it on both the dust cloud and whatever else he could pick up. The readings were strong, but disparate—he didn't know what he was seeing...yet. He really wanted to take out his data tablet, to do a more thorough and more expanded search of the power readings he was getting from all around them, but that required two hands, and, with only Teyla guarding him, he wanted to keep one hand free so he could pull the 9MM out of her thigh holster, if necessary. She had left it loose, just in case.

He put his scanner away when Teyla gave him a look, and made sure he was on her right side, where her berretta rested.

The dust cloud eventually resolved itself into a vehicle, and, for a moment, Rodney almost smiled.

It was a jeep. Or, at least, it looked like a jeep. Four wheels, basic steel frame...engine....

Then it backfired, and Rodney's smile fell. That sound was much too familiar. And, as it got closer, his fears were confirmed. Yes, the front still resembled a jeep, but it was just ornament—someone had added a glass windshield and a more protective front end, but it was no mere jeep. The vehicle was much longer, and, when it turned on a corner, revealing more of its side and girth, Rodney knew.

It was Connam's truck. What they called a "wagon" was in reality an early model of a flat-bed truck, though most of the time, Connam let Dodge pull it like a wagon to hide its true nature and it was covered with a thick cloth.

Teyla seemed to sense his unease, and looked back at him just in time to see him cross his arms.

"Connam's truck," he explained shortly, not hiding the anger in his voice. "I'm not surprised Dora didn't recognize it—they've changed it. But...it's definitely his wagon."

Teyla's eyes widened slightly, and she looked back towards the vehicle. If there was any lingering doubt in her mind about whether Dora was right, and that Connam was in trouble, that answered it.

"Rodney," she said, her voice soft, "let me speak. If you say anything, I fear your anger will—"

"I get it. Be my guest. The less I have to say to these people, the better." Fact was, he was furious, and it would take all of his self-control not to blow up at these Kaveer people the moment he met them. But they had to find Connam first...

Then he would tell them exactly what he thought of thieves and kidnappers.

She nodded, her eyes drawn briefly to the gritted jaw, before turning her gaze forward.

_____________________________________________

"Here they come," Lorne said, leaning forward in his seat. Ronon was standing now, his hand resting on the blaster at his waist. John was leaning forward as well, his eyes on the truck.

Rodney was right. It was Connam's. He'd recognize it anywhere.

Damn it.

_____________________________________________

Though Teyla knew Connam, she had spent only brief moments with him. Unlike the colonel and Rodney, she had no real reason to ever be in contact with him and had never made much of an effort to actually meet him, except once in order to thank him. For that reason, she hoped to be able to keep her emotional distance a little better.

The truck rumbled up next to them and slowed to a stop. Three people looked down at Teyla and Rodney, one standing in the back, and two sitting up front. The driver was a younger woman with thick brown hair, the mass curling around her head like an animal's mane. Next to her was an older man with gray hair and a ruddy complexion, dark brown eyes measuring the two Atlantians with a dark gaze. In the back, a younger man stood up off the flatbed, holding what could only be a blaster rifle. It reminded Teyla of the ones he had seen on Sateda, and she wondered if Ronon was thinking the same thing from up where he was watching them.

"Hello," she said, stepping forward. "My name is—"

"Teyla Emmagen," the older man said, cutting her off. "Tagan's daughter. I recognize you. I am Cleran, one of the leaders of the Kaveer. Your people were here recently. We already informed them that we would not be interested in a trading alliance." His eyes lifted briefly, looking past her to McKay. Rodney glared unblinkingly in reply.

"I am not here on behalf of the Athosians," Teyla noted fluidly, not breaking a beat. "I am here on behalf of a different set of people. They learned of your aptitude for technology, and they would like to offer their expertise in return for—"

"What other people? There are no people left in this galaxy who come even close to our level of technology," Cleran said rudely.

"Arrogant much?" Rodney sneered, his tone razor sharp.

"Doctor," Teyla admonished quietly, before looking back at the Kaveer. "The people I speak of are called the Terran. And Doctor McKay, standing behind me, is one of their chief scientists. He—"

"Scientist," Cleran lifted his head, "Really? And what exactly earns you that title, sir?"

Rodney gave a tiny smile, "Um, my vast knowledge of just about everything? Believe me, if that's the extent of your level of technology," he looked disdainfully at the truck, then back at Cleran, "then Teyla misled us as to how advanced you are. That backfire we heard as you were driving up here? You might want to consider checking the air intake manifold for a leak, or, more likely, there is unburnt fuel lodged in the exhaust system. Have you had it cleaned regularly? Vehicles that, shall we say, old fashioned?" he curled his upper lip, "require constant maintenance, something you clearly have not been doing."

Cleran's eyes narrowed as he studied Rodney, meeting his gaze without either concern or curiosity, his face tightly wound. Teyla tried not to show how proud she was of the man with her—Rodney could really perform wonderfully sometimes. Finally, the Kaveer's jaw unclenched long enough to speak again.

"You have shown yourself to be an experienced engineer, at least," he said, though not without some disdain of his own. Rodney snorted, and Teyla flashed him another warning look to stop him from retorting. Cleran, meanwhile, kept talking. "But...the fact is, as Miss Emmagen knows, we are not a friendly people. We are secretive and we are isolationist. We would only consider an alliance if we thought you had something to trade that might be worth something to us."

"I am certain," Teyla interjected, "that Doctor McKay has much that would interest you, Cleran. His people are new to trading, having managed to remain hidden from the Wraith for many generations, and they have used their own isolation to great effect. This weapon," she patted the P90 she held, "is just one of their advancements. I have seen many others, all very impressive, and you know that the Athosians are not prone to exaggeration."

"If they are so advanced," Cleran sneered, "then what would they need from us?"

"They are currently experiencing a," Teyla pressed her lips together, then continued, "a lull, for lack of a better term. All science survives firstly and primarily on inspiration, and the Terran people are in need of new ideas to further their progress. They hope, based on what I have told them of your people's work, that you might be able to help. I believe working together could aid both the Kaveer and the Terran."

Cleran's eyes remained narrowed, though now they were focused on Teyla. "And what exactly is your stake in this, Miss Emmagen?"

"I believe it benefits all the humans in this galaxy to improve their technology, as a means to fight the Wraith. Also," she glanced at Rodney before turning back to Cleran, "these people are my friends. They came to the Athosians aid during a culling, rescuing almost all my people. We owe them a debt."

Rodney stiffened a little, obviously not expecting that. She wondered if he knew she meant every word.

Cleran grimaced, glancing from Teyla to Rodney and back again. Finally, he gave a slow nod. "I see. Well...that was eloquently put, Miss Emmagen." He licked his lips, and looked at Rodney. "I will take you to our leaders, if," he raised an eyebrow, "you can answer two simple questions for me."

___________________________________________

"Crap," John muttered, glancing up at Ronon. The Satedan's hand wrapped more tightly around his blaster, as if he could shoot through the Jumper's windscreen. "They know about us."

"You sure?" Lorne asked. "That didn't sound like—"

"Oh yeah," John replied, his eyes dark. "They know."

___________________________________________

"Just two questions?" Rodney said, attempting coolness. A thousand throw-away answers flashed through his mind—everything from 'I seek the holy grail' to '42'. Showing what he felt was great restraint, though, he just raised his chin and waited. Cleran gave a small smile.

"First, what is it you wear in your ear?"

Rodney's eyebrows lifted, trying not to show his relief at the easy question, and unconsciously reached up a hand to touch his earpiece. He had honestly thought they were going to ask about the Jumper. Letting his hand fall before it actually clicked the radio, he shrugged.

"They're radios. In the event Teyla and I are separated, we can stay in touch."

Cleran's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. He had obviously already guessed as such.

"Second," he continued, "before you and Miss Emmagen came through the Ancestral Ring, our sensors picked up something else first. It sounded like a machine, but it disappeared almost instantly. Then you two came through. I would like to know what it was that preceded you." His eyebrows lifted, then narrowed. "Meaning, what...or who...is here with you?"

Rodney froze, almost missing the feigned expression of puzzlement that Teyla was throwing at him.

Shit.

"What?" he asked.

"You heard me, Doctor McKay. Answer the question. What came through the wormhole with you?"

All the answers Rodney had planned to reply to such a question—all the answers he'd been told to answer with when John had drilled him—completely fled his mind, and he knew he had to look bad. Teyla's stare, begging him to say something, was beginning to hurt, and his mind was yelling at him to speak—but his vocal cords felt weirdly paralyzed.

Say something! Say something! SAY something!

Teyla sucked in a breath, as if to answer for him, and the movement sent a shock into his brain. His vocal cords suddenly released, and he almost gasped as he spoke, words tumbling out like an out of control steam train.

"Here with us? Something here with us? I...I don't know what you're talking about. We brought nothing with us. All we have is what you see. What else could there be?" Crap. He knew was babbling, but he just couldn't stop. "I mean, you don't see anything, do you? So, clearly, there's nothing else here. Just us. Alone. By ourselves." And he smiled. "Alone." Oh God, why did he have to smile? Teyla looked pained where she met his eyes, but she showed none of it as she returned her calm gaze to the Kaveer.

Cleran, however, was clearly not an idiot. "I did not say you brought it with you, Doctor McKay. I am saying, it preceded you through the Ancestral Ring. And, it is obviously still here with you. Now, what is it?"

Rodney just shook his head. "Got me. Teyla?" He glanced at the woman still standing protectively before him. "Any ideas?"

"I assure you, Cleran," Teyla said, trying to overpower Rodney's nervousness with her own hypercalm. "Rodney is correct. All you see is all there is."

"Oh," the Kaveer's eyes narrowed again, "I highly doubt that."

"Look," Rodney stepped forward, "do you see anything else with us? Any other people or other equipment? No. There's just us. We, uh," he threw a hand out, an idea suddenly popping into his head, "We may have been a little over cautious, and sent a small device through to ensure there were no Wraith around, but other than that...."

"Device?" Cleran appeared puzzled, and Rodney blinked a few times, his mind already reeling with ways to cover his lie. "What device?"

"Ah, this." He grinned and quickly pulled his scanner out of his pocket. Turning it on with a quick mental command, he turned it around to show the screen to Cleran. "It's a scanner and a relay device. Right now, it's detecting life signs in the immediate vicinity. As you can see, there are only five. Us." And he grinned some more. Damn it, why couldn't he stop smiling? No one ever trusted him when he smiled. He finally managed some self control at that thought, and the grin was reeled back into a self-satisfied smirk. Better than nothing.

Cleran's eyebrows lifted, studying the scanner with interest. Its simplicity and power had obviously distracted him, and, for the first time, Rodney actually saw the edges of a scientist in the older man. "What else can it do?"

"Besides scan for life sign readings? It can detect power sources, take energy readings, track people...and generally function as a PDA."

Cleran's eyes lifted from the scanner, "PDA?"

"Personal digital assistant. It can maintain logs, act as a mini computer for data, that kind of thing."

"Oh," Cleran actually looked impressed for the first time. "Well, that is...can I see it?" He held out a hand. McKay smiled softly, and shook his head. He'd already come up with a good lie for this one—had used it on other worlds.

"Unfortunately, it only works for me. It's tailored to my personal ident."

"Personal...what?"

"My fingerprint. It recognizes and works for me only. Here." He handed it over. "See for yourself."

Cleran's eyebrows lifted as he held the now dead scanner, and he sat back, slumping a little. "Oh. Well...huh." He pressed a few of the buttons, then, when still nothing happened, he handed it back to McKay with a frown, his brow furrowing even more as he saw the screen light up the instant it touched Rodney's hand. "Fascinating," he admitted softly. Rodney tried not to grin again. He had now lied twice! He'd not only covered up the Jumper, but had found a way around explaining the ATA gene. How do you like them apples!

"Cleran," the boy in back warned softly, and Rodney's mental glee immediately dimmed. "Do not forget...the object? That came through the ring? I am sure it was larger than that scanner thing he carries." The boy shifted his gaze to McKay, narrowing in distrust as he regarded the Atlantian. "How do we know you did not leave something at the Ancestral Ring?"

"The ground is flat," Teyla said, sweeping her arm towards the Stargate a couple hundred yards away, "you can see there is nothing there."

"Leyna?" Cleran glanced over his shoulder at the woman driving. The brown haired woman nodded, reached under her seat...

And pulled out a pair of Bushnell binoculars.

McKay's breath caught at the sight of them, at the oddity of earth equipment in a stranger's hands, and he was about to say something when he felt Teyla reach back and hit his arm. Still...clearly, the wagon and Dodge were not the only things the Kaveer had absconded from Connam. Luckily, none of the three Kaveer noticed his reaction.

The woman was standing up on the seat now, focusing the binoculars on the Stargate. After a few seconds, she lowered them again and shook her head.

"Nothing that I can see," she confirmed.

"Here, wait," McKay wasn't sure why he was doing this...but found he couldn't resist. "Try these. You can see farther." With a quick motion, he pulled his own pair of binocs from his vest and held them up. Three sets of jaws dropped, and then sealed as he handed them up to Cleran. The older man looked at the binoculars a moment, then at McKay, his eyes narrowed. Teyla shifted closer again to Rodney, once more protecting him with her body. Cleran gave her a disdainful glance, then turned and handed the binoculars to Leyna. The other Kaveer studied them a second, then held them up to her eyes, turning once more to look at the Stargate. She gave a soft sigh, lowered them, and nodded.

"He's right. These can see farther." As she spoke, she looked at the Canadian, her expression curious. He smiled back at her.

"They're called binoculars. That brand is Bushnell," McKay nodded at the pair, "like yours. It's one of the best. Of course, there are plenty more where those came from. Manufacturing them is a piece of cake."

Teyla was staring at him, looking torn between hitting him...and hitting him hard.

Cleran, however, was offering a half smile.

"You have made your point," he said calmly. "We'll take you to meet the other leaders." He thumbed over his shoulder. "Climb in the back." As he spoke, he grabbed what could only be the microphone to a radio transmitter from somewhere near his feet, and reported into it. "This is Cleran. We're bringing them in."

___________________________________________

CHAPTER SIX: ILL WINDS BLOW

"I'm going to kill him," Sheppard whispered. "'Plenty more where those came from,' my ass."

"It worked, though," Lorne said, trying for a confident smile.

"Too well," Ronon said, obviously agreeing with the colonel. "Sheppard...this is not good."

John didn't reply, just lifted the Jumper up a little higher and flew slightly ahead of the wagon as it turned and headed back down the road.

_______________________________________________

The road leading away from the Stargate was flat, but the landscape around it was more uneven than it first appeared, dotted with mesas and the occasional soft depression, some as deep as fifty feet. In the distance, they could make out a series of low lying hills shielding this valley from the worst of the wind, which explained the lack of air movement. McKay's gaze lifted to trace along the ridges, then higher, to the sky itself.

He wondered where Sheppard was. Part of him was really tempted to wave...

Teyla cleared her throat, and Rodney's eyes lowered to meet hers on the other side of the flatbed, his half raised hand lowering back to his lap. She gave an understanding smile, and he returned it with a wry twist before turning his head forward again.

A few kilometers later, the road curved along the top edge of a large, but shallow basin, the base of which was about a hundred feet down and maybe ten kilometers in diameter. The walls of the basin were smooth and vertical, like the edges of a kitchen sink, and sitting in the center of the basin, about where the drain would be, were the compounds.

Dora was right about one thing, Rodney noted, the compounds were very simple structures. There were five, each in the shape of a square, and they stuck out starkly from the red and pale green earth surrounding them, mainly because they were almost totally white. Looking a little like a child's hopscotch set up, four of the compounds were smaller and formed a sort of quad, while at the top was a compound twice the size of the smaller ones, capping them. At a guess, the smaller compounds probably housed living quarters, farm equipment, kitchens and maybe a mess. The larger compound was where the Kaveers worked on their "technology." A single, low lying outer wall ringed all the compounds, and what looked like a thicker wall surrounded each one individually. Inside that was a series of smaller rectangular structures like army barracks. It looked a little like the Alpha Site—except for the walls.

The compounds were also very boring looking. If these people were really as innovative as Teyla and Dora intimated, they clearly wasted none of that imagination on making their setting beautiful.

Outside of the compounds, the ground had been tilled in squares fed by irrigation streams. There were also untilled squares with animals fenced inside, but from this distance, they couldn’t make out any of the species.

Eventually, the truck slowed and then turned, tilting a little as it settled itself on a downward slope—the way in, apparently. The driver shifted downwards, and the engine groaned in reply. Once they were fully heading downhill, the truck picked up speed again, and Teyla gripped the edges of the flatbed, to stop herself from sliding on the wooden clapboards. She didn’t look happy.

They hit the hard dirt bottom at a good pace, and the driver shifted up, quieting the motor.

It backfired again. McKay grimaced.

They were passing through the outlying pastures now, and it gave them a better view of the animals. There was a mixture of cattle like creatures, pigs that looked more like boars with pink skin, and what had to me some sort of cat headed goat (and wasn't that disturbing). There were also a handful of meeners and, of course, Dodge. She towered over the other animals and, as Dora had said, she looked thin…and forlorn.

She stood by herself along one side of a squared enclosure, leaning against the wooden fence, her head down but not eating. The scientist grimaced—he had never seen Dodge uninterested in food.

McKay took a closer look at her as they rumbled past and sighed. Damn it. They were going to have to rescue that damned horse as well, weren’t they? Horrible thoughts of manure piles in the back of the Jumper came to mind, and he screwed his eyes shut, willing the image away. Consequently, he didn’t notice her look up as they passed by, obviously recognizing the familiar sound of the truck's engines. Her baleful eyes stayed on them until the truck rounded a corner behind some thick juniper and, abruptly, they were just yards from the structures.

The truck passed by the four smaller compounds before leading up to the larger one, and McKay noticed that the walls higher, and the silver in them glittered in the sun. They were reflective…were they solar panels?

The ground shook softly, then rumbled, like it had a stomach ache. He was about to question why when the overpowering smell of sulfur hit his nostrils and water suddenly erupted out of the ground in a powerful stream about a mile away off to their right…

“A geyser,” he whispered, watching the liquid and steam reach a point about fifty feet high before dissipating. Even from this distance, he felt his face grow wet from the powerful jet, though it dried quickly in the hot air. A rainbow cut through the water—it was beautiful.

“What is it?” Teyla asked, looking over at him. There was awe on her face—obviously, this was something she had never seen before.

“We call them geysers back home,” he said, still smiling at the utter coolness of the phenomenon. He then proceeded to explain the dynamics behind what created them, chattering on about superheated water and magma flows and the potential power. It was when he was explaining the theory behind geothermal power that he noticed Cleran and the armed boy in the back were both watching him intently. Their expressions were no longer guarded, however. For the first time, they actually looked interested. McKay took the opportunity to ask Cleran a new question, hoping they might be more open to answering this time.

“Is that what you are using to power this place?” he asked. “Geothermal energy? I ask in part because, curiously, this isn’t the first such plant we’ve come across in this galaxy. Unfortunately, the people using the last one we found weren’t aware of the dangers of not regulating their use of such energy, causing….”

“The supervolcano,” Teyla nodded, remembering all too well. She looked up at McKay, “Those earthquakes we felt. Could that happen here?”

McKay opened his mouth to answer, but Cleran spoke first.

“No, Miss Emmagen. It could not. We are very conscious of everything we are doing, paying specific attention to how much we use and when. Primarily, we use solar energy and oil-based generators to provide the power we need for our work and daily lives. We only use the geothermal energy…when the others are not enough for our needs.” He looked at McKay, “That isn’t often.”

McKay just grinned in reply, happy to have finally gotten an answer to something. Teyla, however, was still lost in her memories.

“But the earthquakes…” she said, not hiding her worry. Cleran just shook his head.

“Some instability has existed here since we arrived. It has never worsened, nor would I expect it to. Although,” Cleran actually smiled as he looked to Rodney, “you may be in a position to help us determine that, Doctor McKay. Can that scanner of yours…?”

“No,” Rodney shook his head. “It’s not designed to do more than take current readings. However,” he tapped the laptop on his back, “this is. It's a portable computer. If you just let me hook it up to whatever—”

“Hook it up?” Cleran’s eyes immediately darkened. “What do you mean, hook it up?”

McKay frowned, “I can not take readings in a vacuum, Cleran. I will need historical data to make an analysis.” His eyes narrowed, “As I’m sure you know.”

Cleran’s jaw steeled again, and he grimaced, leaning back against the front seat. McKay shrugged and looked across at Teyla on the other side of the flatbed. She just shrugged back.

After that, there wasn’t much time for talking as they rumbled through the gates of the main compound, and found themselves greeted by about a dozen new people in the same neutral colored clothing. A number of them wore what appeared to be weapons at their belts—an odd mix of Genii and, curiously, Wraith technology—and stood as soldiers or guards would. McKay saw Teyla's arms tense, her fingers curling around her P90. Rodney wondered briefly why they hadn't asked to take it from her—maybe because they were not worried by it?

That couldn't be good.

A salt and pepper haired woman stepped forward as the truck came to a stop, and she studied both Teyla and Rodney with dark blue eyes before turning to Cleran. Her arms crossed over a thick set of white linen robes, and there was no questioning her authority from her stance. This was the leader of the Kaveer.

“I assume you have a good reason for this, Cleran,” she said, the implied question clear. "Your message over the link was not very informative."

“I do, Metra." He stood up on the floor of the truck, "May I introduce Doctor Rodney McKay and Teyla Emmagen. Doctor McKay,” Cleran looked at the man, “is a scientist.”

“A scientist?” Metra smiled, though not in amusement. “How so?”

“Tell me I don’t have to go through this again,” McKay moaned quietly. The older man ignored him.

“He came with this,” Cleran offered in explanation, lifting up the binoculars McKay had given them. When Metra frowned, he tossed them to her. She caught them and quickly lifted them to her eyes, and, for a moment, her frown disappeared. Then she lowered them and looked at the binoculars more carefully.

“These are a better design,” she said quietly, “but bear the same strange symbols.” She ran her finger across the 'Bushnell' name and logo on the side, then looked up. "Where did you get these?" she asked, scrutinizing McKay.

The scientist was immediately about to respond that 'they made them,' but Teyla was quicker, resting a hand on his arm to stop him from talking.

"We have access to a great many different technologies," she said carefully. "We are here because we hoped to broker a mutually beneficial trading agreement for goods such as those."

The woman looked at Teyla, as if dissecting her, then turned her gaze back to McKay. The scientist just gave a quick nod, smiling weakly.

"What she said."

Metra's eyes narrowed, and, for a moment, she seemed to be considering something. Then, abruptly, she smiled. If the last smile was not all that friendly, this one was almost feral.

"Please," she said, stepping back and sweeping a hand out, "why don't we continue this conversation inside. You look in need of water and shade. And clearly," she looked back and forth between the two strangers, "we have things to discuss."

______________________________________________

"I don't like this," Ronon muttered, pacing back and forth inside the jumper. In the background, three marines kept their distance in the back of the craft, watching Ronon like they might a caged tiger. The Satedan pulled his gun, twirled it, then roughly shoved it back in his holster as he stepped up between Sheppard and Lorne. "Those people are trained—look at the way they stand. We should be down there with Teyla and McKay."

"Yeah, because you'd never give our real intentions away," Sheppard muttered, alternating between listening in on the conversation over the radio, watching Teyla and McKay on the ground through the windscreen, and calling up life signs on the HUD. As Dora had suggested, the population was not large—there were perhaps only a couple hundred people here, most of whom were scattered in the smaller compounds. He also visually tracked Connam's truck as the driver took it around the back of the compound and parked it in the rear, alongside a set of other mismatched vehicles. There was also a fuel dump back there, and some small outlying structures—generators perhaps? His mind filed the information away, already sketching out scenarios in his sharp mind.

"I'm just saying..." Ronon muttered.

"I know what you're saying," Sheppard replied, glancing over his shoulder at his friend. "And I know. I feel the same way."

Ronon just gave him a disgruntled look, then turned and paced towards the back. The three marines clambered to stay out of his way. Sitting in the co-pilot seat, Lorne tried not to smile at the effect Ronon had on his men.

Sheppard, meanwhile, was back to scanning the ground with the Jumper's sensors. It appeared solid—what they saw was all there was. No underground chambers, no hidden rooms...just boxes sitting on dirt, and lots of power being generated and shifted around along above and below ground wires.

It actually seemed a little foolish. Surely the way these compounds stuck out made these people sitting ducks. How were they not long ago culled by the Wraith?

In response, the HUD suddenly flashed up with new information, and Sheppard's jaw dropped. His was not the only one.

"Is that...they have a shield?" Lorne asked, reading the same information as the colonel, his blue eyes wide.

"Apparently," Sheppard leaned back, "Damn. I wonder if it cloaks them as well..."

"Probably," Lorne frowned, looking down at the structures. "Sir, if they have that kind of technology, these people are a hell of a lot more advanced than they let on."

"Or," Sheppard eyes narrowed, wishing that McKay was up here, because he'd know the answer to this already, "the technology isn't theirs."

Ronon suddenly snorted, and stepped forward again to the front, arms cinched tightly across his chest. "Wanna bet they found this place twenty some odd years ago...and that's why they stopped trading?" He looked at the men with him, "Because they didn't want to share their good fortune?"

"Or they brought it here, after finding...or stealing it...from somewhere else," Lorne suggested carefully.

Sheppard grimaced and shared a look with the major across from him in the co-pilot seat. The younger man just gave a shrug back.

"Think about it, sir," the major said quietly. "If what Dora says is true, and these people are stealing technology—this technology could be stolen too."

"I did think that," Sheppard replied, looking back out the window. "I just don't like it."

"We should be down there," Ronon growled again.

"We need to give them time," Sheppard said, gritting his teeth. "Give Teyla time. She'll find him."

"Do you think Connam's on his own?" Lorne asked suddenly.

Sheppard frowned, then looked at the major. Lorne arched an eyebrow, and Sheppard snorted. "Right." Abruptly, the HUD shifted, showing life signs again. Dots blinked all over the compound, most together, but some were scattered and solitary. Most interestingly, about six of them were very evenly spaced in the back of the large compound that Rodney and Teyla had just entered.

"You know," Sheppard mused, "if you were to planning on holding prisoners, you would probably not want them near the living quarters or food storage. You would either put them on their own, or, if you didn't have a separate structure for them..." his eyes narrowed, "you would keep them in the main structure, where no one lives."

Lorne nodded, catching onto the train of thought easily, his eyes narrowing on the six dots in the back of the compound. "And either those people are very good at standing the same distance apart..."

"Or they're in cells of some kind," Sheppard finished. "Which means, if Connam's anywhere...he's there."

____________________________________________________

Teyla walked inside the main complex first, her eyes studying the plain, featureless white walls, wondering at the dullness of the architecture. The floor beneath their feet was black, a sort of strange, plastic material that Rodney had called "linoleum." There were no other colors visible anywhere—as if the very idea of color was an anathema to these people.

Rodney stayed close behind her, not quite on her heels but close enough. She could feel his fear, almost as if she could taste it. To all outward appearances, he just appeared vibrantly angry and arrogant, but she knew, the more either of those two character traits were present, the more frightened he really was.

Metra strode ahead along the narrow corridor without pause, boot heels echoing on the hard surface, never looking back once. She either did not care or was not concerned about whether she was followed by the Atlantians. In moments, they emerged into a massive rectangular room filled with a mixture of technologies. Large video screens filled walls, and consoles and work stations were evenly spaced in all directions. Even to her untrained eyes, Teyla could see Genii, Hoffan, and even some Wraith technology in the works around the room—but it was mostly Lantean.

A Kaveer sat at each station, some with headphones on, others without, numbering almost thirty in all. They all looked up at the strangers entering their domain with interest, and one young man actually stood up. He was taller than most, with thick black hair and a mean twist to his mouth. Metra arched an eyebrow at him as he walked up next to her, and he nodded back.

“It’s still there,” he said, his voice deep and gruff, “but now it’s almost directly overhead this compound. We still don’t know what it is—our current theory is that it is a relay device of some kind, perhaps linked to their radios, allowing them to communicate over greater distances—maybe even across subspace.”

“A relay device,” Metra said, pursing her lips. “Interesting. Thank you, Baret.” She turned around then as McKay and Teyla came to a stop not far from her, her blue eyes now ice cold as she regarded them. For a moment, she just stared at them both…then she looked over their shoulders and gave a single nod.

Suddenly, both felt their arms grabbed and wrenched back. Teyla's P90 was pulled from her, and someone else took her 9MM...and tossed it to Metra. The leader of the Kaveer immediately turned it around and pointed it at the Athosian, her thumb clicking off the safety with shocking naturalness.

"Oh hell," McKay groaned, looking over at Cleran standing a few feet away, "it was the binoculars, wasn't it?"

Cleran just smiled.

_________________________________________________

CHAPTER SEVEN: LIGHTING THE FIRE

“Don’t,” Metra warned Teyla, who was struggling against the hold on her. "Look to your friend, Miss Emmagen. He understands." Teyla frowned, and turned to her left. Someone was pressing a knife to Rodney's throat now, and his jaw was trembling. She hissed out a breath, and turned a furious glare on Metra...but she stopped struggling.

“Your transmission devices,” Metra spoke evenly, as if she weren’t holding them hostage, “are interfering with our equipment. Would you be so kind as to remove them?”

Before either Teyla or McKay could answer, they felt the radios looped off their ears and the walkie-talkies pulled from their vests. Teyla’s jaw hardened in anger, while McKay just looked scared.

“What is the meaning of this?” Teyla demanded. “Let us go.”

“Who were you communicating with?” Metra asked in reply, taking McKay’s radio from one of her lackey’s hands. She studied it a moment before looking at McKay, “Who else is here on our planet? What is your intention?”

Teyla hissed, “We told you why we—“

“I am not asking you, Athosian!” Metra snapped, glaring at the shorter woman. “You are not the one who interests me here.”

Teyla’s eyes narrowed, but she did not speak again as Metra moved closer to McKay. The scientist, for his part, had been standing still since the knife was lowered away from his throat, though, with the rude words to Teyla, his eyes had lost a little of their deer in headlights look. He pressed his lips together tightly as Metra leaned in, the Kaveer doing a wonderful impression of a Wraith Queen.

“I repeat,” Metra said, lowering her voice to a more threatening tone, “who were you communicating with on these devices?”

“They’re called radios,” McKay answered, his voice just as low and threatening. “And we already answered that question. Ask Cleran.”

“You obviously lied before. There is something else here, something that came through the wormhole before you did. We were not quick enough to catch it on our camera, but we know it’s here.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Then he frowned as the remainder of what she said clicked in his head. “You have a camera on the Gate?”

She gave a small smile, “You failed to inspect the dialing device, Doctor McKay. There is a camera installed on its base. Unfortunately,” he smile fell, “the angle is poor. All we were able to see was a boxlike contraption, before it disappeared.”

McKay gave a weak shrug, glaring a little at the two men still holding onto his arms, then looked back at Metra. “I still don’t know what—“

“Has anyone ever told you what a terrible liar you are, Doctor? Baret,” she looked to the man standing on her right. “Please show Doctor McKay your screen.”

Baret nodded, walked back to his station and pressed down on some crystal keys. As he did so, he looked up at the screen on the wall nearest his station.

A very familiar looking sensor screen appeared, shaded in dark blue and with pale green concentric circles. It was identical to every sensor screen on Atlantis. And it showed, plain as day, a red dot hovering over the compound with the following label: "GS-3221X". McKay grimaced.

“You have managed to get Lantean technology to work for you.”

“Lantean…as opposed to Ancestral.” Metra nodded, eyeing him curiously. “Interesting that you should call them by their given name, and not the name that so many of the ignorant use. But, to answer your question, yes, we have. Though not all of it.” She lifted an eyebrow, “To be honest, it was almost by chance. Many of our best scientists could not get the technology to function, then, one day, it just did. I wonder…” she stepped forward, studying McKay’s eyes as he purposefully kept his diverted from hers, “would you happen to know why that is?”

McKay glanced at her briefly, then away. Apparently, that was all the confirmation Metra needed. She smiled suddenly, almost gleefully, and nodded.

“There are definitely many things we need to discuss then, Doctor McKay. But first,” she stepped closer, and leveled her gun at his chest, “tell us what it is that came through the Ring before you arrived.”

Rodney’s jaw shut, and he looked past her, towards the screen where the Jumper’s call-sign blinked unconcernedly. GS…Gate Ship…it was a good thing they didn’t know what those two letters stood for.

“We have answered your questions,” Teyla said evenly, reinserting herself into the conversation. “You will not learn anything different from us. You have made a great mistake, threatening us this way. Now, let us go, or, I promise you, you will not like the consequences.”

“Or, really?” Metra’s lips curved into a sneering smile, regarding Teyla like one would a bug. “I think, perhaps, it is you, Miss Emmagen, who has underestimated us.” Her eyes flicked up to whomever was holding her. “Take her to one of the cells. She is of no use in this matter.”

“No, I will not leave Doctor McKay! You cannot—” Teyla started to fight again, and got smacked soundly on the side of the head, causing her to lose her sight momentarily. When she came to, she was being dragged away, already far across the large room from Rodney. She looked up, blinking through was felt like liquid on her face, and caught sight of him watching her worriedly. “Rodney!”

“I’m okay!” he shouted back. “It’s okay! Just don’t forget me! And stop bleeding!” He sounded scared, but more for her than him. She also understood the underlying statement—he expected her to stick with the plan…to get Connam out if she found him. But, he also wanted her not to leave him behind.

That was something that would never happen.

__________________________________________

“They’ve been found out,” Ronon said, glaring at the silent communicator. It had gone dead right after the woman, Metra, had requested Teyla and Rodney remove their radios. No way would they have done so without at least an argument. “We shouldn’t have let them just—“

“They’re still alive,” Sheppard said, his own eyes on the HUD, looking at the two blips representing Teyla and McKay. They were being separated—which could mean that Teyla might still be following the plan, and going to try to find Connam on her own. “We need to give them more time.”

“No!" Ronon snarled. "It was a bad plan! I say we land this thing and go in there, tear these people to pieces!”

“And hurt potentially innocent people in the process?” Sheppard argued back. “No! We are going to give Teyla and McKay a little more time. We have seen nothing yet to indicate they are in any real danger. For all we know—“

“For all we know, they’re torturing McKay and taking Teyla to be shot!”

Sheppard’s eyes widened, staring up at Ronon like he had two heads. “Okay, you’re seriously pessimistic, you know that? I thought Rodney was bad, but you’ve no faith in anyone, do you?”

“I don’t trust people who hurt my friends,” Ronon defended, crossing his arms angrily. “And these people have definitely hurt Connam. I don’t know him that well, but he’s a friend of yours, and that makes him a friend of mine. So, no, I don’t trust these people and I think we need to get Teyla and McKay out of there…now.”

John’s jaw tensed, but…he couldn’t fault that logic. Fact was, he was itching to get in there as well.

“Okay…” his eyes narrowed, studying the terrain and the location of the various vehicles in the back of the compound along with Connam’s truck. They all looked like fuel based vehicles, just like back home. He also quickly mapped the locations of all the Kaveer on the ground. “Okay,” he said again, “we’re going to give them ten more minutes. If we don’t hear from them, then we’ll go in, get Teyla and McKay out. But, we’re going to need a plan.” He looked up again at Ronon. "And I'm thinking it's gonna need some explosions."

Ronon's answering grin was a wonderfully terrible thing to behold.

__________________________________

Stripped of his vest, Rodney was shoved into a chair in front of Baret's station, flinching away from the suddenly large looking man. Baret could give Ronon a run for his money—though the Kaveer had a lot less hair. Rodney spotted Cleran on the other side, kneeling down and going through his vest, pulling out the scanner and also pulling off the laptop from the back. He was about to say something about being careful with everything when something blocked his line of sight. Metra had come up close to the chair, standing inches from him, her stance ramrod straight. When he leaned his head back to meet her eyes, she pointed to the Jumper's call sign on the Ancient sensor with Teyla's gun.

"Tell us what that is."

Rodney pursed his lips and made a show of looking intently at the screen. He saw the ship moving, flying towards the rear of the building. Was Sheppard following Teyla?

"Um...a sensor grid?" he answered, leaning back in the chair and looking back up at the older woman. He could feel the sweat on his face, giving away his prevarication as effectively as if he'd come out and told them it was a toaster.

Metra's jaw tensed, pushing the gun closer to his face. "I would not test our patience, Doctor McKay. I repeat, what is it?"

Rodney looked back at the screen, then down at the crystals making up the keyboard of the console. Not all were lit up, and he noticed several were cracked.

"This is damaged," he said, not looking up, trying to stay focused on the technology and not on the threat from the obviously dangerous woman. "Was it like this when you found it?"

"You're stalling," she said.

He bit his lip, his eyes looking anywhere but at her face, "I'm just saying...maybe, because it's damaged, it's showing false—"

Someone clubbed the back of his head, causing stars to flash across his eyes. He didn't think it was Metra, because he didn't see it coming—so it was probably Baret. He breathed heavily through the sharp pain, the air loud in his ears, catching himself with the console.

His hands splayed across the crystals, feeling the power thrumming through them, sensing the knowledge inside their workings just like he did at home. Looking up, his eyes darted around, and he saw more Ancient consoles, and more grids, all of them connected. Like reading a book, he quickly absorbed and catalogued the configurations of the consoles and symbols on the keys—recognizing all of them. My God—they were all Ancient weapons systems and shields. Were they active? How did they get here? Or did the Kaveer find them here and—

"Doctor!" Metra slapped his face, and Rodney's vision grayed, his cheek stinging from where a ring on her finger had cut him. Breathing hard, he raised a hand to his burning face and sharp anger suddenly clouded his judgment—he hated having his thoughts interrupted—and he glared up at her.

"It's your equipment," he snarled without thinking, resting both hands again on the console. "You figure it out."

Metra almost smiled at that, her eyes shining with a strange mania. Her gaze lifted, looking over the top of Rodney's head, the smile turning into a leer. "Bring me the shock stick," she ordered, before returning her gaze to Rodney's. She grabbed his chin roughly in hard, callused fingers, pulling his head up. "You will tell me what I want to know, Doctor McKay. Believe me. I know fear when I see it—beneath all that bluster, you are a weak man."

Rodney swallowed, some of his anger fading in the face of such coldness. His hands remained on the console, and the warmth of the crystals was like a beacon to him. He looked again at the sensor grid when she let his face go, his chin throbbing with the bruises sure to show up where she'd gripped. Metra asked him again what was on the screen, and his focus landed on the dot showing the Jumper, giving his friends away....

To hell with this.

He wasn't even sure he'd actually done it until he heard all the shouting, and felt himself pulled away and thrown to the floor, sliding across the black linoleum material on his back. And then he was being pulled up by his jacket, and Baret was in his face. The black haired man seemed huge now...huge and angry...and the coloring...

Reminded him of Kolya. He was scrambling at the hands holding him down, breathing fast.

"What the hell did you just do?!" Baret roared, his voice echoing in McKay's head like a bullhorn. "How did you turn it off?!" He was shaking him, hard. Behind Baret, Metra was shouting as well, similar questions, similar demands, but he could barely hear it over the man holding him down. What was he going to say? That he simply touched it and thought, off?

"Tell us how to turn it back on!" Baret yelled, shaking him again, McKay couldn't breathe. "Now!"

McKay's eyes closed. He wouldn't give Sheppard away. Not now. "I can't!" he shouted, using the last of the air in his lungs. "I don't—"

Baret hit him hard enough to knock his head back against the black floor with a large crack.

He didn't know anything else after that.

___________________________________________

Two guards led Teyla down a narrow hallway, the walls were just as white as everywhere else, the floors just as black. She wiped a hand across his face, trying to get rid of some of the blood she felt drying on her cheek and forehead. By the time they emerged into a long, but narrow room, her vision was no longer blurry and she felt well enough to stand up straight. Which was just as well—because she had found what they had come here to find.

Squinting a little against the bright sunlight streaming through a bunch of small windows, she found herself facing a row of cells. At least a dozen of them. And half of them were filled—and, based on the colorful clothing, not by anyone who was Kaveer.

The long row of cells were separated only by bars, allowing the prisoners to see each other down the corridor. Thus, it was easy to spot Eric Connam not far from where she stood, sitting on a pallet and looking bored out of his mind.

The trader looked just about the same as when Teyla had last seen him, although scruffier. His faded blond hair was dirty and loose, not hidden under the plain brimmed hat he liked to wear, and the long handlebar moustache seemed to weigh heavier than usual on his face. The normally well trimmed beard was unkempt, and shaggy, but not unattractive. The main difference was the lack of animation. While not a young man—he was possibly in his late forties, early fifties—Connam had always seemed to Teyla to be filled with energy, always in motion. Now, though, his eyes were downcast, studying the black linoleum floor with a listlessness she had never seen him own.

Of course, that all changed the moment he saw her.

They walked Teyla right past his cell, and his eyes drifted up in curiosity…and instantly widened. He was on his feet and gripping the bars of his door, mouth opened to say something, most likely to protest. She gave him a look, begging silently for him not to say anything, not yet, and it seemed to work. He closed his mouth, but he didn’t take his eyes off her.

They shoved her into the cell next to his, and she had to catch herself before she went down. Turning, she saw the two guards who had brought her here were smiling, one holding the P90 close in his arms like a baby while the other simply raked his eyes over her. She stood up proudly, not ashamed by her looks, and simply gave him her most acid stare back.

It seemed to work. The second guard sneered and backed away after the door was shut, heading back to the corridor leading back to the main room. The first, the one with her weapon, simply hovered, moving to lean against the wall on the far side of her cell, his interest not totally on the P90.

Reaching up, she brushed more of the sticky hair from her face, grimacing a little at the tackiness from the dried blood and the sting of the cut along her hairline. All things considered, it did not feel that bad of a wound. It probably looked worse than it felt, although she was going to have a headache for a while. Her hand then drifted down to her neck and along her shoulder, until she felt the soft lump.

She pressed down, grimacing a little at the subtle pain, then let go. She repeated it a couple of times, then stopped.

______________________________________________

“Colonel,” One of the marines was manning the controls of the jumper and watching the HUD while Sheppard outlined his plan to Major Lorne, Ronon and the other marines. At the sound of his name, John came forward, looking up at the screen. Teyla’s life sign blinked on and off three times.

“That’s the signal,” the marine said.

“Right,” Sheppard said, looking to the men behind him. “Here we go.”

________________________________________________

CHAPTER EIGHT: OVERTURNING THE EARTH

Rolling her shoulders, Teyla stepped forward to the bars, paying no attention to Connam, though she knew the trader was still watching her. Her lips lifted in a soft smile, and she tilted her head as she watched the guard fiddle with the weapon he had stolen.

"It is called a P90," she offered, "it’s a sub-machine gun."

His eyes lifted, their color a dark chocolate brown. They regarded her without much interest or warmth.

"It carries 50 rounds inside its magazine," she continued, walking up to the wide bars and slotting her arms through to lean on the central beam. "It's clear, see? That way you can tell how many rounds you have left."

The Kaveer tilted the weapon up, looking at the magazine and the still full set of rounds inside.

"It's light," he grunted, obviously interested despite himself. "I've never seen a weapon this light."

"It's an impact resistant polymer," Teyla smiled some more, quoting her own training on the weapon. "Makes it much lighter than the heavy metals the Genii use."

The Kaveer's eye tilted up to look at her again, the expression narrowed. "The Genii make good weapons."

"Yes," Teyla conceded, "but these are better."

His eyes looked down again, then, suddenly, he swung the weapon up and pointed it at her. Teyla tried not to react to the hostility of the move, but she couldn't stop the flinch and she pulled her arms back a little. The young man smiled. It was an evil, cold smile. Teyla's jaw hardened.

"You have more of these where you come from?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Teyla gave a single nod.

He smiled some more. "We may want to know where that is."

The Athosian pursed her lips at that statement, then gave a slow nod, as if she were willing to provide that information.

"My goal," she said, stepping carefully with her words, "is to bring you and the people who made that weapon together, as allies."

The young man snorted, "Allies. Sure." He had lowered the weapon again, and was inspecting the flashlight and the sight.

"It has two firing modes," she said, leaning forward again through the bars, trying once more for casual, "semi-automatic and fully automatic. It means you can fire a single bullet, or a spray. It has a manual safety, located under the trigger, and a laser sight, for better aim."

He was no longer leaning against the wall, and, unconsciously, had stepped forward, closer to her cell. "A laser sight?" There was no mistaking the underlying excitement in his voice, it was almost boyish, like he had been given a new toy.

"Yes, see? The switch is there," she pointed vaguely towards the barrel of the weapon. He frowned.

"Where?"

"There. And that's the switch to change firing modes."

"This one?" He was closer now, showing her the side of the weapon, where the switches were.

"No, no, there, see it?" She continued to point generally, not focusing her hands.

He was frowning deeply, completely caught up in the weapon. Standing in front of her now, he showed her the weapon. "Show me."

"My pleasure," she purred.

Reaching forward, as if to touch the weapon, she grabbed the thick material of his robe on his chest. Before he could react, she wrenched him forward, slamming him bodily into the bars, crushing the P90 against his waist where he still held it with both hands. Before he could fall backwards, she got one hand on the barrel of the weapon to hold him still, and socked him with the other through the gap in the bars hard enough to break his nose. From the resounding crack and the flash of pain in her knuckles, she knew she had succeeded in doing just that.

He fell back with a cry, both hands going to his now bleeding face, while Teyla kept hold of her weapon. With surprising ease, she slid it through the bars and had it pointed at the boy's head.

"The switch to single mode firing is here," she said coldly, clicking the switch. "And right now, the safety is off."

He was holding both hands to his nose, eyes wide as they stared at her in shock. "How...what...?"

"Keys," she spat. "Open these doors. Now!"

"Teyla!" Connam finally spoke, leaning against the bars separating the two cells. "Woman, what are you doing here?"

"Rescuing a friend," she replied, not taking her eyes or her aim off the young guard as he fumbled to open her door. "Faster!" she commanded the guard.

"But," Connam looked genuinely bewildered by that answer, "You mean me? You came for me?"

"Doctor Simpson insisted." Teyla smiled as she continued to stare down the barrel of her P90, brown eyes never leaving their focus on the guard as he sniffed and pulled the door open. Blood ran down his face from his nose in a dark rivulet, and he sniffed again when she stepped out, grabbing the keys from him and gesturing him inside.

Connam's eyes were wide now. "No, no, Teyla, this is a bad idea! Are you crazy? Do you know why I am here? Because I refused to tell them who provided me with the items the At—" he cut himself off before saying the name Atlantian, glancing up at the walls in case they had ears, "...that our mutual friends gave me. And you just come walking in here? You're exactly what they want!"

"I think you underestimate us," Teyla said, locking the guard in the cell then turning to unlock Connam's. She looked up at him, her eyes earnest as she worked. "We came as soon as we learned you were here."

Connam's head shook vigorously, his shaggy blond hair flying. "No, you don't understand. Teyla, these people, they're dangerous! They have weapons, dangerous weapons, and they're hungry for more. They kill people for it. I've seen...I've seen them...." He frowned, as is unable to continue as he stepped out to join her. "You should not have come! I can not repay you for the danger this has put you and the others in!"

"There is nothing to repay, Eric," Teyla said, jogging over to the corridor and glancing down it. She had not missed the cameras mounted on the walls overhead. As if on cue, a stunner flash flared down the hall, almost taking her head off before she ducked back, but not before she saw the handful of guards running towards her.

Without hesitation, she pulled out a canister of tear gas from her vest—grateful the guards hadn't taken it—pulled the pin with her teeth, and tossed it down the hall...then sent a hail of bullets from her P90 after at.

"That should slow them down," she said, jogging back to Connam as tendrils of the gas floated out of the corridor. Coughing and words shouting for retreat echoed from somewhere down it. Teyla looked around. "Is there another door?"

"Yes, but..." Connam pointed to another door at the far end of the row of cells. It obviously led to the outside. "There are guards out there. Many of them. You've overcome one guard, but they have a small army here! I've seen them. Teyla...they're ruthless, these people. I have seen military societies, and these people rank up there with the most frightening I have ever met. They've killed at least two of my fellow prisoners since I've been here, torturing them for information with some of the nastiest implements ever devised. I have no doubt that, had I given the impression of being more knowledgeable about Doctor McKay and the others than I am, that—"

"Then these others are like you?" Teyla asked, looking at the five others now pressing against the bars, watching them with wide, hopeful eyes. Many did look beaten, and one or two had clear burns up and down their arms—she did not want to know where those came from.

"Yes. But how...?"

"Teyla!" Lorne's voice came through a window in one of the empty cells near where they were, and Teyla grinned, looking up.

"Major!"

"Teyla, if we blow through this wall with C4, can you get out this way?"

"Yes!"

"Then stand back!"

Teyla gave the keys to Connam, "Free the other prisoners," she ordered. "Hurry." She jogged back to the hallway leading up into the main corridor...and almost had her head taken off again by a stunner flare. The smoke from the tear gas had obviously faded already—they were coming down again. Grimacing, she pulled another canister from her vest and tossed it after the first.

And then Lorne's voice shouted, "Fire in the hole!" and Teyla yelled to the other prisoners, "Get down!"

_________________________________________________

Sheppard let loose the first drone, hitting the fuel dump, and grinned like a wolf as the erupting fireball turned his world orange. He let out a whoop and fired another at the first of the Kaveer's transportation vehicles.

_________________________________________________

Rodney jolted awake at the first explosion to total and complete chaos. People were running around and over him, and he found himself forgotten on the floor, lying on his side, hands curled up by his head.

Metra's voice was shouting orders somewhere nearby, and the room was rocked with another explosion, this one closer. Someone yelled that the building's wall had been breached, and McKay risked lifting his head and pushing up a little on his arms. Dizziness instantly assaulted him, and he had to take in a deep breath before he was able to stop the bile rising in his throat, hating the burning in his esophagus as he swallowed it back down. Blinking rapidly, he saw Metra not far from him, waving a black stick around that looked like a cattle prod—with electricity buzzing at the end.

His lips parted, momentarily shocked at the realization that they had probably just been about to use that on him to wake him up. Was that the "shock stick"?

"I need this working!" she was screaming, pointing at the still dark sensor grid. "Who managed to get it working before?"

"Doctor Chressa," Baret shouted back, the large, dark man pressing the keys down on the Ancient console in obvious frustration.

"Then get her! Now. You," she pointed to someone, "Get the weapons systems and the shields online, now!"

"But they're all tied together!" the person replied, sounding panicked. "Whatever that man did, he turned them all off at once!"

"Find a way to bypass what he did, then! Are you scientists or not?!" Metra was clearly furious. "I will not be outsmarted by some outlander! I want that ship brought down! Now! If you can't use the Lantean equipment, then use the Genii missile launchers!"

McKay's eyebrows lifted, thinking about what that could mean. Ship? The Jumper must have...

Another explosion, this one louder and even more ferocious, and now McKay could hear the rattle of machine gun fire.

The Jumper was firing! That's why it had decloaked. Yes! They were being rescued! He smiled in relief, not quite managing to stifle a laugh at the same time.

He must have made a sound loud enough to be heard, because Metra suddenly whirled around to stare down at him. Her eyes were wild, her silvered hair a bird's nest on her head, appearing to him like demoness standing at the gates of hell. Before he could utter a word, the black rod in her hand swung down, pointing at him.

He screamed in pain as electricity fired across every nerve ending in his body.

________________________________________________

"Who are they?" Lorne yelled as Teyla ushered all five prisoners through the large hole in the wall along with Connam. She was squinting against the heat pouring in from the outside—the world beyond was literally on fire as the Colonel had exploded every vehicle except for Connam's truck. He had essentially created walls of fire to prevent anyone from coming around the left side of the structure behind their backs. He must have lit a shallow gas pipeline to do that.

"More abductees!" she yelled back, trying to be heard over all the noise. "We have to rescue them as well!" Ronon was inside, firing down the corridor into the main complex, and Lorne's marines were around the right side of the building on the outside, holding back the Kaveer trying to attack from that direction. "What's the plan?" she yelled again.

"I'm taking Connam and, I guess these others, with me and my men on Connam's truck," he shouted. "Colonel's going to make us a way out. We pick up Dodge and get to the Gate and through. You and Ronon get McKay, and find another way out of the building. Wherever you go, the Colonel will pick you up. Then you cover us in the Jumper until we get through the Gate, then come after."

Teyla nodded, "Understood!"

"Good! Now go!"

Teyla didn't question, she just ran over to Ronon's side. He had stopped firing, squinting down the darkened, smoke filled hallway. A brief pause in explosion and gunfire occurred...and they heard someone screaming.

Rodney!

Ronon bellowed and was down the hall instantly, Teyla on his heels.

________________________________________________________

Sheppard swung the Jumper around, narrowly avoiding being hit by the missile shot from what looked like an air to ground missile launcher—circa 1950. Had to be Genii design. There was so much black smoke, he was having trouble discerning exactly what was happening below, but he had the life signs up on the HUD, so he could see Lorne and his men clearly, as well as Teyla, Ronon and McKay via their subcutaneous transmitters. He grimaced a little as McKay's "dot" seemed to flicker.

"Sir! We need a hole!" Lorne shouted on the radio. "Twelve o'clock of your current position!"

Sheppard nodded and swooped down, letting loose another drone into the wall blocking Lorne from freedom. The major was sitting in the driver's seat of Connam's truck, the trader by his side, and the other marines in the back with the other freed prisoners. They were still firing on the Kaveer, who were continuing to fight despite obviously being outclassed in firepower. He watched as the truck roared and blew through the hole he'd created, then out into the red plateau. He lifted up and sent another drone in the direction of the small army looking to chase them.

A quick mental check told him he only had about four drones left.

He glanced again at the HUD, noting that Ronon and Teyla were almost on top of McKay.

"Come on, guys...." he whispered.

Another missile launched, and he swerved out of the way, then dove down, blowing the hats off the ducking Kaveer soldiers.

_______________________________________________________

The pain let up, and McKay found himself panting for breath, still shaking uncontrollably. The world was a blur around him, distorted by the tears filling his eyes. He sensed more than saw Metra kneel next to him, and he blinked in her direction, just trying to see her clearly.

"Tell us how to turn the Lantean machines back on!" she demanded.

He wanted to tell her to go to hell. He wanted to act brave and determined and strong.

Instead, he just whimpered.

He felt her slap his face, and the sting of it felt odd with the tingling electricity still dancing along his skin. "Tell me! Now! What is the trick! How did you—"

"Get away from him!" Ronon's voice boomed from somewhere. McKay tried to smile, but his lips wouldn't work. Nothing worked—except his ears.

"Who are you!" Metra demanded. "How did you—" Then she shrieked as a blast of red light flared out...and was blocked by someone throwing themselves at Metra, pushing her out of the way. Black hair made Rodney think it was Baret. Ronon's fire nevertheless clearly hit both people, sending them flying away from him, somewhere out of sight. He wanted to follow them with his eyes, but found he didn't even have the strength to lift his head up. Machine gun fire filled the background, and Teyla's voice was clear, loudly proclaiming that everyone in the room lower their weapons and get down on the floor.

The next thing he knew, he was being lifted up by his jacket, and that's when he knew he was still shaking violently—because whoever touched him seemed to freak out a little, almost dropping him down again. He tried to explain, to say he couldn’t get it stop. But no sound came out.

"What did they do to you?" Ronon asked close to his ear, but it was obviously rhetorical. Rodney felt himself bodily lifted to his feet (still definitely Ronon—no one else could do that with such little obvious effort), then tipped over and across a strong shoulder. Fireman's carry. "Let's go." Ronon announced gruffly. "Teyla, grab his vest! You, Cleran, drop his laptop! Yes, that thing in your hands! Now!" Rodney felt the Satedan's ribs expand each time he shouted, and he thought he could hear his heartbeat as well...but that might have been his own. "Where's the nearest exit?" Ronon asked then.

"That way," Teyla replied from somewhere far away. "Give me that!" she snarled then.

Rodney had no idea whom Ronon or Teyla were talking to, but he felt the tall man's muscles shift under him, and they were turning...and jogging. He gasped in pain as the bony shoulder dug into his abdomen, Ronon's grip tightening around his legs. He blinked and grabbed at the back of Ronon's flapping, long great coat, one hand wrapping around the sheath of his sword.

He felt bone-weary and sick, his blood rushing to his face, the bile he'd managed to swallow before rising again up his throat....or down, since he was facing towards the ground. All he could see was black linoleum and the back of Ronon's calves and feet. His body still shook. Could Ronon feel him shaking? He felt like there were a hundred ants crawling up and down his body. Everything hurt, ached....

There was more gunfire, and he caught flashes of red light from Ronon's gun, reflecting mutely off the shiny linoleum.

"This way!" Teyla called, and he felt Ronon's muscles shift again as he turned.

Abruptly, they were outside, the black linoleum replaced by too bright red sand, and he winced at the assault of sunlight on his corneas. Even upside down, it was too much after the black from before. His world began to spin.

"Colonel! Down here!" Ronon boomed, and McKay shut his eyes.

Air blasted, lifting up Ronon's coat, nearly smothering Rodney. There was more gunfire, and he guessed Ronon was firing as well, though he could only guess that from the way Ronon seemed to turn this way and that with him still on his shoulder.

"Get him inside!" Was that Sheppard's voice?

And suddenly, he was inside something cool, the familiar black metal surface of the Jumper floor visible. He wanted to hug it.

"Ronon! What's wrong with him? McKay? You okay?"

He wanted to answer Sheppard's question, but words were too hard to form. But it didn't matter, because Ronon answered for him.

"They did something to him." Good answer, Ronon. McKay almost smiled, but his face didn't want to work.

"We're in! Go!" Teyla called them, and Rodney vaguely noticed the sunlit metal floor turning dark as the back hatch shut. "Go! Go! Go!"

He felt Ronon press against a bench and slide him off his shoulder. Smaller hands helped, and he suddenly was sitting upright, looking at Teyla. She was very blurry, but he could see that she was smiling at him.

"You're safe," she whispered.

So Rodney promptly leaned over and threw up at her feet.

_______________________________________

CHAPTER NINE: FROM OUT THE EARTH

"What the hell did they do to him?" Sheppard demanded, lifting the Jumper up and turning to avoid two more missiles. Damn it, how many of those damned rocket launchers did they have? "They barely had him alone for more than ten minutes!"

"Don't know," Ronon answered from the back, sounding calmer now that they were flying. Sheppard listened to the sounds of the Med Kit being pulled down, and Teyla saying soothing things to Rodney, though there was a tight edge to her voice. Sheppard bit his lip, wishing he could turn around to see them.

"Is he okay?" he asked, climbing up high and searching visually for Connam's truck on the ground.

"Don't know that either," Ronon replied, sounding distracted now. "He was shaking like crazy when we found him—he's got some marks like he's been hit, too."

"There's...ugh." Teyla didn't sound too happy, and Sheppard, unable to fight the need to see them any longer, risked a glance back. He saw her shaking something off her right shoe as she and Ronon finished settling McKay on the floor of the Jumper on his side. Ronon was grabbing a blanket and pillow from overhead, obviously to tuck around the man.

Teyla looked up at Sheppard, her expression upset as she opened the first aid kit. "There is blood on the back of his head. It looks like he might have hit it."

"Or someone hit him," Ronon muttered, gently tucking McKay inside the blanket and putting the pillow under his head. He then stood up again when Teyla handed him something to clean up the vomit. Sheppard returned his full focus to the front, moving swiftly to avoid any last missiles. He'd flipped the cloak into a shield, but even one hit would drain power, which he hated to do.

He spotted the truck, the flatbed looking ant-sized from this height, and jetted forward to catch it up. He couldn’t see too clearly from this distance, but he thought he could see Dodge's coloring riding in it. They'd picked up the horse—good.

Ronon spoke again from the back, his voice still quiet. "McKay? You hear me?"

"Wait, he's awake?" Sheppard asked in confirmation, wishing he had a rear view mirror on this thing. He kept looking generally where one would be, just in case the Jumper was clever enough to read his mind and provide one...but no such luck. "I thought he was unconscious?"

"Nah, just out of it. You in there, McKay?"

"Sh...shocked me..." McKay said then, barely audible even inside the quiet Jumper. "S...some kind, kind...of...electroshock...."

"Electroshock? Jesus..." John swallowed hard. Damn it. "It's gonna be okay, McKay," he called back. "Just hold on—we're going to get you home. Ronon..." his voice softened, "keep on eye on him." It was taking all of his willpower not to destroy the Kaveer compounds altogether. He'd seen fellow soldiers turned to mental mush by electroshock in prison camps, their minds never fully returning. If they hurt McKay permanently—he was coming back here to make sure the Kaveer never hurt anyone again.

"Will do," Ronon said. "Not going anywhere," he added quietly. It sounded like it was meant more for Rodney than John.

Teyla was already moving forward, walking a little unsteadily herself. She had dried blood on the side of her face, and when she sat down a little more heavily than usual into the co-pilot's seat, Sheppard guessed McKay wasn't the only one hurting.

"How about you?" he asked, guiding the Jumper down, closer to the truck he could see climbing up out of the basin in the distance. Lorne and the others were already almost back on level ground. Squinting a little, he saw that Dodge wasn't actually on the truck...she was in front of it, charging up the road at a fast clip with someone on her back—one of his marines, based on the coloring of the uniform. Whoever it was—he could ride.

He swung the Jumper in a tight circle, and called up the HUD, checking for activity behind them. No one seemed to be chasing them or the truck—yet. That didn't mean there might not be more surprises, however.

"I will be fine. I got hit on the head, but I did not lose consciousness. It is merely an irritation." Teyla leaned forward, squinting as Sheppard had in the direction of the truck when they turned around again. They were gaining on it quickly now. "Is that them?"

"Yeah."

"The Kaveer had Lantean technology," Teyla said then, changing the subject and looking over her shoulder at McKay. "They could see the Jumper on their sensors."

Sheppard's eyes widened, and he looked at her. "What? You mean they could have fired on us before? Then why didn't they?"

"They did not know what it was they were looking at. They were trying to get Rodney to tell them, but...." She trailed off, her lips pressing themselves into a thin line. She didn't need to finish.

"Tough little man," Ronon muttered, still in the back. Sheppard risked another glance back, and saw that the Satedan was now sitting next to McKay, leaning his back against the hatch, one hand resting on Rodney's forehead. The scientist himself was just a lump under the gray military blanket.

"Oh, Christ," the blanket wrapped body sucked in a breath, "Do you have...to call me little? M'not little..."

Sheppard smiled when he turned back around, throwing a quick, grateful thank you to whomever was watching over his team. If Rodney could whine...

"I'm talking height," Ronon replied quietly, and Sheppard could hear the smile in his voice. "Not girth."

"Ha ha," McKay muttered softly. "Very funny."

"Actually," Teyla was looking forward again, her brow furrowed, "I just realized..." She gave a small impressed grunt, and she looked back again at the men in the rear of the Jumper, then at Sheppard. She smiled. "I just realized, the machines were dark when we found him. He must have shut them off."

"Of course, I...shut them off," McKay mumbled, sounding less shaky. "Why do you think," he took a breath, "they did this to me? They don't know," he took in another deep breath, but Sheppard could hear a smile this time when he continued, "about the gene. And they," another breath, "call themselves scientists." He snorted a little at the end.

Sheppard grinned, but didn't turn around again to look at McKay, as Teyla had.

Damn, he loved his team.

____________________________________________

Metra held her still burnt left arm close to her side, refusing to look down at the dead form of her second in command at her feet. Baret's lifeless eyes stared up at nothing, the blackened hole on his back from that monster's weapon still smoking.

Someone handed her the Genii wrist communicator, and she clicked it on.

"Commander Cray?"

"Minister! What is going on? All the Lantean systems are down under here, and we heard explosions! Are you—"

"We were attacked, Commander," Metra snapped, cutting him off. "I need you to send as many men as you can up to the surface, to guard the Stargate. You must stop the escapees. At the very least, you must stop their ship."

"Ship?"

"It's Lantean, I'm sure of it. We must have it—in pieces if that's the only way. Do whatever you can."

__________________________________________________________

When the Jumper reached the basin's edge, Connam's truck was already on the flat, moving swiftly down the dirt road at a good clip, though not as fast as modern vehicles. It was probably the old thing's top speed—which the Jumper clocked at 42 miles per hour. Dodge still led, galloping at her own top speed—which looked to be faster than the truck. The huge creature could really move—he knew some horses could move that fast, but not something that looked like an elephantine Clydesdale, and surely not for longer than a sprint. He tried to see who was riding her, but the hat obscured the marine's face. Whoever he was—he looked born to it.

"Major," Sheppard called, hitting the communicator, "You okay?"

"Shaken up, sir," Lorne replied over the radio, his voice nearly drowned out by the truck's engines. "But I think we're good. How's Doctor McKay?"

"He's awake, sort of. We'll know better when we get him home. Hey—who is riding Dodge?"

"Corporal Dunne, sir. Boy just jumped up and took off. We're just trying to keep up." Lorne sounded amused by this, but the truck's engine was roaring—they really were pushing it to the limit.

"Guess we all have hidden talents," Sheppard answered. "Speaking of home, I'll dial the Gate for you—send you to the Alpha Site, because of all of our unexpected extra guests. You just head straight on through—don't even slow down. By the way, how's Connam?"

"Ask him yourself, sir. He says he needs to talk to you. Here he is..."

"Colonel!" Connam's voice was strong over the connection, louder than Lorne's calm tones. "I need to warn you—we're not out of this yet. I tried to escape when I first got here, and I was prevented from reaching the Gate. There are defenses between here and there—weapons that come out of the ground. I nearly had my head taken off by something a bit like a laser beam."

Sheppard just blinked at that, not sure what to make of the information. He frowned, looking at Teyla, who was already trying to search for evidence of this weapon with her eyes through the Jumper window. The Gate wasn't visible from this altitude—too many small mesas in the way.

"A what?" McKay called from the back. "Tell me...he didn't say...laser beam..."

"Unfortunately, he did." John blew the air out of his cheeks. "Okay," he said into the radio, "We'll keep an eye out for it. Connam, Major, watch yourselves." Turning off the com link, he turned to his right. "Teyla, get ready to dial and send your IDC. I don't want them shooting Dunne when he comes flying out of the wormhole on that horse." He smiled suddenly, unable to resist adding, "If any of them saw Time Bandits, they might have bad flashbacks."

Teyla gave him a confused look. "Time Bandits?"

"Oh, right." His lips twisted ruefully. "Never mind."

"McKay says to tell you you're an idiot," Ronon called from the back. "Time Bandits shouldn't give anyone bad flashbacks—it was a comedy."

"Yeah, thanks for that, Rodney," Sheppard replied, smiling tightly. "Still gave me bad dreams," he muttered under his breath. He'd seen it on his 13th birthday—for a whole week he kept waking up, expecting horses to explode out of the wall over his bed.

The half smile on his face faded as he spotted movement up ahead. Straightening up in his chair, he frowned as it was clear that something else was moving towards the Gate...fast.

"There is movement up ahead," Teyla said, obviously having spotted the shadows at the same time.

John called up the HUD, calling for life-signs, and swore. There were at least three dozen dots moving towards the Stargate—Kaveer soldiers—and more kept popping up. They were just appearing on the screen, as if out of thin air. Where the hell were they coming from? They couldn't just appear from nowhere!

Unless they were coming up out of a shielded underground facility.

Why did every planet with bad people on it have to have a shielded underground facility?

"Major," he called, hitting the com link, "we've got trouble. Kaveer soldiers attempting to intercept. Whatever you do—don't stop, but tell everyone with you to get their heads down."

______________________________________________________

Connam climbed into the back of his truck with the other kidnapped scientists and two of Major Lorne's marines. He hunkered down, but kept an eye on the sky.

The Jumper, which had been shadowing them, suddenly shot forward like a bullet, and he couldn't resist watching as it climbed high into the sky...then suddenly dove.

Peeking over the top of the flatbed, he watched as the ship aimed for a group of about fifty Kaveer soldiers running towards the Stargate from the left, the group still about two hundred yards away (but much closer than the truck). The ship flew so low as to force half of them to dive down to the ground. It then lifted and turned tightly as the still standing Kaveer soldiers started shooting at it. Flashes of light appeared around the Jumper, as the bullets impacted off some invisible shield.

It dove again, and the rest of the soldiers dove to the ground.

The Jumper lifted and turned once more, practically pivoting in place...and its weapon bays opened. Connam's jaw fell as what looked like a mini-sun lifted from the right side of the ship and skidded across the front of the group of people. It didn't hit any of them—instead, it just circled around them, pinning them inside the circumference it created. Then the weapon impacted the ground about a dozen yards directly in front of them and exploded. Those soldiers that had gotten to their feet were rocked backwards.

The Jumper turned again in the sky and moved to settle in front of the now mostly prone men and women, its weapons bays still open. The threat was clear—move, and the next weapon the ship fired would blow them to bits. The Kaveer didn't move—they just stared at the hovering ship, fully aware they didn't have a chance in hell against something that powerful.

Connam grinned, and was tempted to wave at the cowed Kaveer. It was only then that he realized they were almost at the Stargate. His eyes moved away from the Jumper guarding them and to the Gate, happy to see the chevrons glowing and spinning...

He had no idea how he was going to repay them for this. But he would find a way.

_____________________________________________________

Doctor Chressa, a petite, gray-haired woman with wide, dark green eyes, staggered into the room, pushed by a soldier. She paused when she saw Baret, who was still lying on the ground near his station, putting her hands over her mouth in shock.

"Chressa!" Metra shouted, getting the woman's attention. "Get over here! You turned this on before; you need to show us how you did it."

"Oh, Ancestors preserve us..." Chressa shook as she stepped gingerly over Baret's body, obviously trying not to look down as she did so, and stumbled over to the console Metra pointed at. The leader of the Kaveer rolled her eyes—she hated the weakness of the older scientists. Chressa, meanwhile, huffed a shaking breath as she studied the dead keys. "I just...I just hit these three keys together," she said. Trembling, pale hands reached down and touched the keys, and the crystals lit up. Metra's brow furrowed, sure she had seen Baret hitting those same keys multiple times trying to achieve the same thing.

Whatever. Metra shook her head sharply—she didn't have time to think about that right now. Around the room, the other Lantean equipment came on line one after another. People dove for their consoles as soon as they started working.

"That's it!" Metra said, "Get the shields up! And bring that ship down! Now!"

__________________________________________________________

Teyla finished dialing, and the Gate burst to life. "Alpha Site," she called into the radio, "this is Teyla Emmagen. We are coming in hot. We have Eric Connam, his truck and dram coming through. I'm sending my IDC." She hit the small device on her wrist as the colonel stared unblinkingly at the obvious commander of the Kaveer. The soldier stared back through the windshield, jaw tensed and waiting, equally unblinking.

"We hear you. Come on through," someone replied through the com.

At the words, Sheppard lifted the Jumper up into the sky and turned it sideways so that they could see the Stargate at the same time as the Kaveeran soldiers.

Teyla grinned as she watched Dodge leap up and into the wormhole, especially since she was pretty sure Corporal Dunne was grinning as the powerful creature carried him through.

The truck went through a second later, and Connam waved as they hit the event horizon.

"We did it!" Teyla smiled, standing up a little in her seat. "They're through!"

"Right," Sheppard said, quickly turning the Jumper around away from the soldiers and back to the Gate. Turning it sharply in the air, he aimed straight for the wormhole, mentally slowing the Jumper down to give the truck enough time to get out of the way on the other side. "Alpha Site, we're coming through, and we have a medical emergency. Have a team standing—"

"COLONEL!" Teyla screamed, but Sheppard was already banking upwards, the inertial dampeners unable to completely compensate for the sudden shift in altitude. Teyla nearly fell out of her seat, while everything in the rear of the Jumper shifted loudly...and painfully.

"What the hell?!" Ronon shouted from the back, where he'd fallen hard into the back hatch.

"They have a shield!" Teyla shouted back, her eyes wide where she stared at the shimmering Gate shield covering the open wormhole, which the Jumper just narrowly avoided being squashed against.

And then the Kaveer opened fire.

———————————————————————————————

CHAPTER TEN: DODGING THE FIRE

"Alpha Site," Teyla called into the radio, "we have been prevented from following! The Stargate on this side has a shield! I repeat, the Stargate has a shield!"

"What?" McKay called from the back just as Sheppard banked the Jumper hard and around, turning it back towards the Gate. The colonel’s eyes were instantly drawn to the two dozen or so Kaveer troops still on the ground, scrambling to regain their position guarding the Gate and the DHD. Their machine guns were already firing, and the first grenade launcher fired, forcing Sheppard to swing sharply to the left to avoid it. Shit.

"Where the hell did they get a shield?" he muttered, mentally checking that the Jumper’s own shield was still at mostly full power—the weapons firing on them weren't have too much of an impact, thank goodness. "McKay," he called back, "they’ve got a lot of weapons pointed at us. Are you feeling well enough to—Jesus Christ!"

The massive bolt of energy nearly blinded them, cutting across the Jumper’s bow and flaring like a sun where it impacted the Jumper’s shield. For what felt like hours, there was nothing but orange light, filling everything, saturating the world in and around the Jumper. The controls flashed and sparked, nearly going dead before the beam cut out.

It had lasted less than a second.

Blinking against the spots in his vision, Sheppard barely managed to level out the spiral they had fallen into, just seconds before the Jumper crashed into the ground. He heard things fall heavily in the back, and guessed that Ronon and McKay were both now on the floor of the Jumper again.

"Hang on!" he yelled, pulling hard on the controls to aim the still shuddering ship up and away from the sand-crusted ground.

"A bit late for that!" McKay yelled back, sounding both utterly panicked and very annoyed. Oh yeah, he was feeling better.

"Look out!" Teyla screamed, pointing to the left. It was an unnecessary shout, as Sheppard was already banking up and to the side, just narrowly avoiding being hit again. There was more banging around from the back—the inertial dampeners weren’t doing a good job. The Jumper was responding sluggishly in general—as if unable to give him the power he needed to climb.

"Are you trying to make me throw up again?" McKay demanded, his voice breaking. "What the hell is happening? What is that thing?"

"I don’t know! You tell me!" Sheppard answered, fighting with the controls—it felt like he was trying to pilot them through molasses. "The Jumper’s been damaged! McKay! I need you up—"

"We’re coming!" Ronon growled back, grunting a little. Glancing over his shoulder, John saw that Ronon was almost physically carrying McKay forward, and there were boxes and equipment scattered all over the back. The scientist had his head down—not as well as he sounded then. He turned back, and swerved to avoid another strike.

"Teyla, What’s happening?" Someone demanded over the com—it sounded like Lorne, radioing in through the still open wormhole. "Are you under attack?"

"Yes!" she shouted back, leaning to peer out the front window, trying to see the source of the beam, just as Sheppard was. "The Kaveer have some sort of energy weapon! Do not send—"

"Gate just shut down," Sheppard interrupted, glancing towards the ground. Sure enough, the Stargate was inactive. Teyla stared at it, then back at the colonel as he spoke again, Sheppard banking hard around another cut from the beam. "The Kaveer must have shut it down themselves, remotely."

"Should I…?" Teyla put her hand on the Jumper’s DHD.

He shook his head. "I’m guessing, we dial it up again, they’ll just put the shield back up. We have to find a way to get rid of it…and shake this damned beam!" The last was delivered in a frustrated yell as he banked sharply to the left, narrowly avoiding being hit again. "Where the hell is it coming from? I can’t see anything that looks like a—"

"There!" Teyla pointed to what, at first glance, looked like a rock formation about twenty meters from the Stargate. "It’s coming from inside those rocks." Then her eyes widened, "correction, it is those rocks." Sure enough, as they watched, the rocks and the ground around them took on a blinding yellow glow…and a beam scarred the sky, aiming straight for them.

"McKay!" he yelled again, banking out of the way at the last second.

"I’m here!" Rodney answered over his shoulder. "Just give me a minute!" He sounded tired, but Sheppard couldn’t focus on that now. A quick glance back showed McKay in his usual seat, attacking his laptop with shaking hands. He was still bundled in the blanket, ashen faced, but wearing that determined frown that meant he was not going to collapse until they were safe. Ronon had a hand on his shoulder, as if forcibly keeping him upright.

A proximity sensor went off, and Sheppard’s eyes returned to the front, narrowly avoiding yet another strike by the weapon, whatever it was. "I need options, McKay," he ground out. "What is that thing?"

"An energy weapon, obviously—a powerful one. It’s…it and the Gate Shield are both being powered through the DHD, which is being powered by...something below the ground. Whatever it is, it’s Ancient. They must have had a facility here, once upon a time." McKay sighed heavily, his voice a sort of low burr as his fingers rattled across his computer keyboard.

"Can we take it out?"

"The weapon?"

"No, your brain."

McKay snorted, "No. It’s…," he took a deep breath, "it’s under the ground. Those rocks…I don’t think they’re real, I think they’re a hologram. And…oh nuts…"

"Nuts? What?"

"There’s a shield covering them. Just like the Gate. I think it’s all one component." His voice seemed to fade a little, and there was an edge of pain to it. Sheppard frowned, circling around the Gate again—they needed a way out. He looked at the soldiers gathered around the DHD, watching them…waiting for the beam to finish them off.

"If the DHD is powering them, can we take out the DHD?" Ronon asked.

"What?" McKay seemed startled by the question. "No, of course not. You take out the DHD, you take out the Gate’s power as well. No power, no wormhole, remember?"

"Then how are we going to get home?" Ronon ground out, staggering forward into Sheppard’s peripheral vision as the colonel dove under another cut from the beam.

"How about just trying to survive the next five minutes first," McKay snarled. "Sheppard, Look..." The HUD appeared, and Sheppard swore, already grasping the problem before McKay explained it for the others. "When that beam hit us the first time," Rodney sucked in a breath, "the shield took almost all of the Jumper’s power to deflect it and damaged some of the control systems. If we get hit again, the shield won’t hold, and the Jumper will be out of power. It’s mostly out of power now. Sheppard, you have to get us away from it."

Sheppard gritted his teeth, narrowly avoiding another hit with a painful jack-knife like turn to the right. "Will leaving the atmosphere do it?"

"Maybe—but when I say that we don't have much power, I mean, we don't have much power. We go up there—we'll only have hours before we have to enter the atmosphere again."

"You're kidding."

"No, I...oh..." McKay’s voice grew small in the background, just as Sheppard turned them particularly sharply. "God," he whimpered, "I’m really not feeling well."

"Sorry, Rodney," Sheppard replied, his whole body tensing as he plunged the small craft downwards, orange light flooding the cockpit from another near miss. "I really am. But I don’t have much choice here."

"Yeah, yeah." The scientist sucked in a deep breath. "Right. You're...doing great. Um...so, heading up?"

"Soon as I can get a break." Sheppard pulled them sharply to the left. "We need a plan."

"Yeah...one thing...."

"What?"

"You have to lower the shield."

"Are you crazy?" Sheppard asked, swerving around yet another cut from the beam. "If I do that, and it hits us—"

"It’ll cause damage, yes, but we might survive. If it hits us while we have the shields up, the Jumper will cut out, and we’ll crash and die. Which would you rather?"

Sheppard just swore again, and turned off the shields with a mental nudge. He turned the Jumper up, straight towards the blue expanse overhead, needing to get distance, swerving from side to side as the beam sent pot shots after them.

It was worse than trying to avoid the beam off Doranda—that one was random. This one was aimed—and aimed well. The proximity sensors would not stop screaming, as if the weapon was jacked into them. It was taking everything John had to keep them from being hit.

He kept having to break his climb, to swerve down and to the side, keep the weapon guessing but also slowing them down. Still, the higher they got, the weaker the beam's strength seemed to get—its color less vivid. It's accuracy seemed to falter as well—missing by yards instead of feet now.

Sweat dripped down his face. Oddly, he was reminded of that first time flying O'Neill back on earth, being targeted by that drone. If Beckett hadn't turned that thing off at the last second, they'd have both died. This energy weapon thing wasn't a drone, but...the feeling of 'no way out' was the same. He had to get out of range...just get a little bit further...

They were just reaching the limits of the lower atmosphere when Rodney spoke again.

"It’s working," he said, his voice sounding hopeful for the first time as a flash of yellow burned off to the right. "It’s lost most of its power."

"We're hitting the limits of breathable air, here," John confirmed. "We just have to go a bit further..."

"Assuming that it can't follow us into space."

"What?" Fear spiked through John. "You said leaving the atmosphere—"

"No, I didn't! I said 'maybe'! I'm just trying not to throw up on this teacup ride from hell!"

"McKay!"

"It's weakening! It is! Just keep what you're doing!"

John gritted his teeth, wishing he could wipe the sweat off his forehead. Proximity sensors were not screaming as often in his ears, but the Jumper was still panicking. He swung them side to side, trying to stay random, to stay clear.

"We're leaving the lower atmosphere," Teyla said.

"And the beam is definitely not as strong," McKay said.

"Yeah," Sheppard muttered, turning to look over his right shoulder at the scientist. "I think we might be—"

The rest was cut off as the beam sliced through the left side of the Jumper right next to Sheppard’s head, entering somewhere near McKay’s station and leaving through the windshield. Teyla screamed as Sheppard was catapulted sideways towards her, and McKay fell back out of his chair to the floor. Ronon was thrown against the right side of the ship, sprawled across his chair.

And the Jumper fell.

________________________________________________________

CHAPTER ELEVEN: FALLING THROUGH THE AIR

Rodney fell back onto the floor, head hitting the hard surface with a crack, the smell of burnt metal and burnt flesh singing his nostrils. It was overpowering.

He had heard Sheppard’s yell and Teyla’s scream before he hit, but, after...there was nothing but his heartbeat. It pounded inside his ears, inside his chest, down to the tips of his toes, louder than he had ever heard it. It was like his blood was demanding to be freed of the confines of his body, and was slamming its fists against the walls.

And outside his body, the world had gone gray, color washing out of it like an old movie. It grew smaller and smaller until it was just a pinpoint, something far away and hard to reach, like looking through a set of binoculars backwards.

Vaguely, he became aware of a growing burning sensation in his chest, but he couldn’t seem to do anything about it, couldn’t move anything at all…

And then something hit him, hard and painful across the face. The world rushed back as he took in a great gasping breath, blasting him with noise, noxious fumes and vivid color. Someone grabbed his shoulders and shook—hard. Blinking, McKay tried to focus, to break through the chaos, to breathe.

He finally made out Ronon leaning over him, obviously shouting, but his voice was lost in the wind in his ears. Ronon shook him again, then pointed to his left. As directed, McKay turned his head that way…and saw Teyla on the floor with a clearly unconscious Sheppard in her arms. She stared at him, wide eyed and terrified. Blood coated her arms, and there was a smear of it on her face.

She shouted something at him then, and reached out with a free hand to grab her chair—she looked like she was barely holding on, like she couldn’t hold herself steady. Sheppard’s head lolled into the crook of her arm, his face slack.

Beneath them, the floor tilted and rolled, sliding them all around, and McKay didn’t understand why. Were they still on that hovercraft? It was not until he looked beyond Teyla, and saw the orange world rushing up at them through the half busted windshield…

McKay’s eyes widened, and he moved to stand. He wouldn’t have made it on his own, but Ronon grabbed and pulled him up, practically carrying him. He still couldn’t hear, but he could see, and, with Ronon’s help, he was lifted over the pilot’s chair, which was on its side on the floor of the Jumper and…God, it was on fire…

Shaking, the wind tearing at his face through the hole in front of him, he grabbed the dead and dark controls.

He had to struggle to keep his eyes open, the wind through the broken windshield strafing his corneas like sandpaper, so he was squinting through his eyelashes as he tried to get the Jumper to wake up, to respond. When the left hand control came off in his hand, he let go and pressed his left hand down on the console, begging it to react, to come alive again. For a moment, he thought it was over, they were dead, and he was shouting though he couldn't hear his voice…then the console suddenly lit up. It flickered a little at first, as if uncertain, and a portion on the left nearest to the damaged hull didn’t light up at all. Then the right hand control began to respond to his commands, and, with a thought, he managed to turn on the shield and repressurize the cabin. The wind immediately cut off—and he could hear again, though it was muffled, his ears and nose throbbing with sharp, needle-like pain, though it was nothing compared to the ice pick slicing through his skull.

He didn’t care. He just had to stop them falling.

He pulled back on the right hand control and closed his eyes, imagining in his head the Jumper leveling out. He felt the floor under his feet shudder and shake, as the Jumper fought the pressure of the wind and the engines struggled to stop their downwards plunge.

All he thought about was leveling off, regaining control, not crashing…

The Jumper stopped shaking, and he risked opening his eyes, blinking against the bright light pouring inside from the blue sky now filling his vision. The Jumper was not quite level, tilted on his side, and he recognized that it was because he couldn’t control the left hand drive pod. He wondered if it was damaged, and, if so, how badly. Did the same beam that cut through up here strafe the drive pod?

They were still flying, so it had to be working…he just lacked control.  The Jumper was following its own course--taking them back to the Gate. Back to the Kaveer.

No, no, no! Not that way!  The Jumper shuddered, fighting him, and he shuddered with it. He pressed on the right hand control.  Away...away...from the Gate.  The Jumper jerked like a rubber band, and they were whipping in circles. 

Sicker than ever, he let go, and the Jumper headed off in a new direction.  He didn't know where.  He didn't know anything.  He couldn't think anymore.

He couldn't stop shaking, and neither could the ship.

"I have to land," he said, softening his voice to a whisper. It just sounded so loud inside his head, worsening the sharp, biting pains in his ears. His earlier headache was nearing migraine levels as a result—it was amazing he was still conscious.

"Where?" Ronon asked, sounding very far away, but also strangely close. It was then McKay realized that Ronon was right behind him…holding him up. He didn’t even notice the hands under his arms, taking much of his weight as he leaned over the console.

"As far away as I can get from the weapon," he replied softly, wondering if the beam was even still shooting. Had it stopped firing when they were hit? It must have, because they weren’t hit again while they fell, or when he leveled out.

"There was a small canyon about ten miles away from the Stargate to the left—I saw it when we were flying around before," Teyla said, speaking up from where she was sitting, still holding Sheppard up. She too sounded like she was speaking through a pillow. "Can you take us there? It had shelter and water."

McKay wanted to shake his head, but he knew it’d be a bad idea. "I don’t think I can turn, except in circles," he admitted, his voice shaking a little. "Straight line only. No left hand control."

"Just get us as far away from the Gate as you can, then," Ronon said.

McKay's vision was graying, and he jerked his head up. The Jumper had drooped a little, and he felt it shudder.

"I need..." His vision was spinning, he was bottoming out. "I need to land. Now."

"There. Those rocks," Ronon said, stabbing a finger towards the outside. "Defensible, if nothing else."

McKay followed the direction pointed, blinking too dry eyes, and saw a large collection of boulders a few miles away, putting them about fifteen miles from the Gate. The Jumper seemed to be swaying, but staying afloat, so to speak. He nudged the right hand control and kept his left hand on the console, willing the ship not to overcompensate.

It shifted slightly—they were on course. He blew the air out of his cheeks, and tried to ignore the roiling nausea in his stomach. He focused on the rocks, thinking only about reaching them…then crossing over the top of them…and landing. At some point, he had closed his eyes—something he didn't notice until he hit ground. He'd been flying by pure mental picture.

The Jumper skipped on the ground, jarring them, then settled, sighing like an old, rusted Buick.

McKay took off the shield and immediately slid down, so that he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the underside of the console. Ronon let him—either that, or he wasn't fast enough to stop him. His head tipped forward—he only wanted to close his burning eyes for a second…

_____________________________________________

"No, McKay, don’t pass out…McKay!" Ronon grabbed Rodney’s arm, trying to pull him up out of the little niche he’d slipped into between the console and the chair, but the scientist was out again, and this time he wasn’t responding to the shaking. He'd gone completely limp, and, with Ronon's awkward position behind him, the sideways chair preventing him from achieving any decent balance, he wasn't able to stop the man's fall. Backing away with a swear, he pressed a hand to the side of the limp man's neck. McKay’s skin was cold, clammy and, if possible, even more pale, although his cheeks and forehead were now bright red from windburn. Ronon muttered a swear, straightening up from his crouch.

He needed a doctor.

Turning, Ronon reluctantly climbed back over the still smoldering pilot’s chair, the upper left hand corner of which was burned clean off. If Sheppard hadn’t turned in his chair to look at McKay the second that beam hit, it would have taken the colonel’s head with it.

Teyla was watching him, still holding onto the colonel. The beam hadn’t actually hit the man, but it had gotten close enough to burn him through his shirt, leaving portions of his upper left arm and his left shoulder bare and blood-slicked. The force of the blast had sent him hard towards Teyla, and his head had cracked on the DHD. There was blood everywhere.

"How is he?" Ronon asked, kneeling down next to her. Sheppard was lying with his back pressed against her abdomen, his head on her left arm and her hands holding him up around his chest.

"I don’t know," she admitted quietly, looking down at him. "All I could do was hold on."

Ronon nodded and reached forward, holding a hand to Sheppard’s neck on the right hand side. A steady pulse made itself known, and he didn’t seem to be having any difficulty breathing. His eyes closed briefly in gratitude—he’d been afraid Sheppard was dead.

Hell, until McKay had gotten those controls to work for him, he thought they were all dead.

Refusing to think about that further, he looked over at the blanket that McKay had dropped when he fell back. Without a word to Teyla, who was watching his every move without blinking, he picked the blanket up off the floor, shook it out, then climbed back over the pilot's chair to the scientist. Gently, he wrapped the blanket around the scientist's shoulders, then pulled McKay away from the console he was leaning against. As softly as he could, he placed him down on the floor on his side, curled inside the small space under the console like a cat, wrapped as warmly as Ronon could manage in the blanket.

That done, he straightened up and brushed his coat back, revealing his blaster. Pulling it out, he checked the charge then looked to the back.

"I need to check the perimeter. I don’t know how fast they will get to us out here."

"We…" Teyla closed her eyes and swallowed hard, as if to suppress the panic evident in her voice, and she seemed to shake herself slightly. The fear was gone from her face when she spoke again, her tone calm and collected as she returned her gaze to his. "We landed about fifteen miles from the Stargate, in a direction away from both those troops and the Kaveer compound. I do not know what mode of transportation they have, but I did not see anything quick enough to get them here in less than an hour. Did you?"

Ronon frowned, closing his eyes and trying to imagine the army at the Gate. He recalled no signs of any transport. Wherever those troops had come from, it must have been close.

"Considering that the weapon that was firing at us was underground," Teyla said again, "I would guess that there is a hidden facility underground as well. That is probably where those people were hiding. My guess is, it is shielded, which is why neither Doctor McKay's scanner nor the Jumper registered those life signs."

"So," Ronon frowned, "they could have more stuff under there."

She nodded, "They could."

"So, what do we do?"

She looked down at the Colonel, then up at him. "What you said. Go check the perimeter. I'll take care of the Colonel and Doctor McKay. Then, when you return, you can finish tending to them while I run some diagnostics."

Ronon had been staring at the back hatch, but when she said that, he returned his gaze to hers. "Run some what?"

"Diagnostics." She nodded up in the direction of the control panels. "I should be able to determine if the Jumper can be repaired or flown further away. And I can inspect the drive pods. At the very least, I can—"

"You're serious. You know how to do that stuff? When did you learn about—"

"Yes, I am serious," she snapped, glaring a little at his incredulous expression.

"Yeah, but...what good does it do us if it can be fixed if they're both..." he waved at John and Rodney. Teyla grimaced, unconsciously pulling John in a little closer, as if to protect him from Ronon's suggestion that he wouldn't wake up. She shook her head.

"Just go, Ronon. Go and see what you can see. We will discuss it when you return."

He frowned, but, after a moment, nodded. Striding to the back, he hit the back hatch and stepped out into the harsh sunlight as soon as he could.

Teyla let out a heavy breath and dropped her head. She held onto John a moment longer, then moved to lie the Colonel down gently on the floor so she could fetch the Med Kit.

________________________________________________

CHAPTER TWELVE: STOKING THE FIRE

Teyla did what she could for John, cleaning his shoulder and arm and wrapping them loosely with sterile bandages from the Med Kit. After gathering his arm inside a sling to keep it immobile, she checked his head, grimacing at the ugly gash on his hairline where he had hit the corner of the DHD. The bleeding had stopped, but there was bruising. She was in the middle of cleaning that as well when he stirred.

A low groan whispered out, then ended in a grunt when he winced, obviously feeling the pain. Teyla stopped her ministrations, holding the Q-tip back and watching as his eyelashes fluttered, gamely trying to open. She let out a soft breath of relief.

"Colonel," she called softly. "Colonel, can you hear me?"

He grunted softly again, then, with obvious effort, pulled his eyelids back so that he was blinking at the ceiling of the puddle jumper. His eyes rolled once, as his eyelids fought to close once more, but they settled and the bleary gaze shifted from the ceiling to Teyla. She checked his pupils—and found them even. The bruising on his forehead did not seem to reach his eyes, but she was no doctor. He frowned and blinked some more in her direction—she was fairly sure it was because of the pain he was in.

"Colonel Sheppard," she called again, "John. Can you hear me? And see me?"

His eyes pinched in response, the frown not letting up. "Both," he answered, his voice soft. He swallowed harshly. "Teyla," his eyes closed for a longer period this time before reopening, "You okay?"

She gave a tiny smile—she had expected nothing less. It was one of the reasons she would follow him to the ends of the universe. "I am fine," she replied, the smile evident in her voice. "A little bruised, but all right. You gave us a scare."

His lips quirked in his typically sardonic fashion. "Sorry for that." He blinked slowly, then grimaced again, eyes shutting tightly as he rode out the pain he was in. When he opened them again, he was obviously fighting to stay awake. "Ronon? Rodney?"

"Ronon has gone to study our landing site, in the event we may need to defend it. Rodney...," she licked her lips, "Rodney is sleeping." She smiled weakly at the lie, feeling her nerves fighting the smoothness of the motion, the muscles twitching around her lips. She was wishing more than knowing it to be true, but she did not want John to worry about Rodney now—not when he was so badly hurt himself and could do so little about it.

John frowned, his eyes squinting more as he obviously sensed the uncertainty in her. Before he could question it though, he shifted...and gasped loudly, the breath turning into a painful groan. His right hand reach up to touch his bound left arm.

"No, don't," Teyla said, catching his hand. "You are badly hurt. You must leave it be, for now."

He had opened his eyes again, and she could see water in them as she placed his right hand back down, holding it a little longer than necessary. It was cold—which worried her. John's eyes rolled back in his head when she leaned away from him, and he blinked slowly, turning his head towards her once more.

"What...my arm?" He swallowed again, and his eyes closed once more.

"You hurt your left arm when the ship was hit. I wrapped and bound it to your chest."

He gamely tried to blink his eyes open again, but it was clearly a losing battle. "Where's...?" The question died on his lips, his shallow breaths deepening as he drifted back to sleep. Teyla bit her bottom lip, wishing she could do more for him.

"Rest, John," she said softly. "You need rest. I will explain later."

He didn't need the command, already asleep again. A combination of pain and warmth—she could still feel the heat from his arm...she just hoped it wouldn't get infected.

She finished bandaging the cut on John's head, and stood up slowly, intending to move over to Rodney. She winced a little as her back spasmed, her own muscles feeling the strain of the day—she could still taste the metallic flavor of adrenalin on her tongue, reminding her of just how incredibly scared she had been. All of her muscles ached, as if she had been running for hours. She licked her dry lips, sighed and shook her head.

Keep moving, Teyla. Never stop moving.

Leaning down to pick up the Med-Kit, she hugged it to herself as she stepped across some debris on the floor and climbed over the smoldering pilot's chair to the left side of the Jumper. She studied Rodney's broad, curved back as she set the Kit down, garnering comfort from the regular way his back expanded and retreated beneath the blanket Ronon had tucked around him. She recalled how soft Ronon’s touch had been when he took care of Rodney, as if handling a child. Teyla had been mesmerized for a moment, watching Ronon ministrations, wondering a little at how gentle the often fierce Satedan could be. If she ever questioned the strength of Ronon’s love for the three of them, she just needed to remember how he could be when any one of them was hurt.

With a soft sigh, she knelt by Rodney's head and brushed back the blanket, revealing the scientist's pallid face. She swallowed, trying to remember that the bruising on his face and the dark blood caked at the corner of his lips had been there before, from when they had found him.

Rodney had no other overt injuries, other than the bruises on his face and the wound...wounds? there was too much blood to tell...on the back of his head, so there was little she could do for him. She checked to make sure the wound had stopped bleeding, then gently prodded his shoulder, calling his name. He showed no signs of wakefulness—as limp as a rag doll. Grimacing, she leaned over and pulled up an eyelid…then the other. The pupils responded—that was a good thing. Her jaw clenched, regretting how little she could actually do—especially if she could not wake him.

She also tried not to think about how much trouble they would be in without him.

Getting up with a heavy sigh, she looked down at the two men, then stepped once more over the chair and into the rear of the Jumper. With only a slight tremble of nervousness, she reached up and pulled down the left hand control panel, then turned and pulled down the one on the right. All the crystals were currently dark—which made sense, as the Jumper was powered down. Looking around, she spotted Rodney’s off-world backpack, which John had obviously decided to bring along, just in case. Grateful for the colonel's foresight, she opened it and pulled out the scientist’s data tablet, turning it on then grabbing for the connection wires to attach it to the Jumper’s control panels.

She had just gotten them powered up when Ronon returned. He stopped just outside the open rear hatch, dust floating all around him like tiny diamonds in the sunlight, and just looked at her standing before the open control panel. She smiled weakly, shifting Rodney’s tablet in the crook of her left arm and gripping the tablet’s stylus in her right hand. She opened her mouth to explain what she hoped to do, but he just shook his head.

"Do whatever you think best," he said, pushing past her to the front, obviously intent on checking on the two men. Teyla just watched him go.

"I believe Colonel Sheppard is only sleeping," she said as Ronon crouched down to check on the Colonel. "He woke once, but he was in a great deal of pain. If he is more lucid next time he wakes, I shall give him some morphine." Ronon did not reply, just glanced at the bandages, then leaned in close, as if to check the man's breathing—his ear going to Sheppard's chest. Whatever he heard must have satisfied the Satedan, because he backed away and turned his head to look at Rodney over his shoulder.

Teyla held the tablet closer to her chest as she spoke again. "Doctor McKay, however, appears to be deeply unconscious. He has not responded to me at all."

The Satedan just grunted, climbing over the chair to check on Rodney, and he repeated the ear to the chest thing. He hovered a little longer than he had with John, then drew back, a dark expression on his face. The frown deepened the more he stared at the scientist. Teyla was about to say something about concussions when Ronon sucked in a sharp breath.

Suddenly, he erupted back to his feet, kicking viciously at the ruined pilot's chair, sending it back towards Teyla. She jumped, then frowned, feeling her own anger growing inside her.

This was no time for that!

"Ronon!"

"I know," he snapped brusquely, pressing his hands to the side of his head beneath his dreads, clearly trying to get his rage back under control. He sucked in another breath...then let it out slowly. He lowered his hands, looked over at her, and nodded.

Moving to where he had kicked the chair, he reached down and lifted it up, hefting the heavy, leather seat like it was weightless, and carried it past her to the very back, next to the open hatch. Dumping it in the left hand corner so that it was out of the way, he then continued forward to the top of the ramp, to stand guard, his gaze watching the wall of boulders hiding them. He had only been standing there for a moment before his blaster was out, the gun twirling around his restless hands. Only the tension in his jaw gave away the continuing depth of his frustration.

Teyla sighed, and placed the data tablet in her arms down on the Jumper’s bench. Crossing over to his side, she raised a hand to shade her eyes as she peered outside, also studying the semicircle of rocks. The bright, orange sunlight felt harsh, reflecting off the glittering desert landscape, and intensifying her own still painful headache. Two Tylenol from the Med Kit swirled in her system—they would have to do for now.

"What did you see over the rocks?" she asked, her eyes tracing the dragline that the Jumper had made in the soft, red earth when it hit the ground. It had not been soft landing.

"Not much," Ronon said, drawing up slightly. He found comfort in reporting—something Teyla knew well. "Land’s pretty flat between here and the Gate, but there are some things blocking the view—buttes and stuff. I couldn’t see the Kaveer, but you know they’re coming."

She nodded, and took a step out down the ramp, just to feel the sun on her shoulders for a moment. They warmed beneath the cloudless sky, the sun soothing on her face as she tilted it upwards, closing her eyes to feel the heat caress her cheeks and eyelids.

"They want this ship," Ronon commented behind her. "Think that's why they didn't fire again. We'd be dead otherwise."

"They want us as well," Teyla noted darkly, opening her eyes again to look out at the desert.

Ronon stepped forward so that he was by her side, and he pointed in a northerly direction, as if she could see through the rock wall hiding them. "There are a handful of sliver canyons cracking the ground between us and the Gate, which should help slow down ‘em down some—you can see ‘em pretty clear from atop the highest of the rocks." He pointed vaguely up to where a large, thumb shaped monolith stood about fifty feet away, towering well over their heads. "Should help."

"Well, that is something," Teyla said, sighing a little. "How long do you think it take them to reach us?"

"On foot? Fifteen miles is a long way to cover fully armed. So, few hours, give or take. But, if they have transportation—which, seeing as they definitely had some vehicles in that compound—"

"But the colonel blew those up," Teyla interjected.

"Yeah, but stands to reason that they might’ve more hidden down inside wherever they came from." Ronon scowled a little. "And, if they do, we might have less ‘n an hour. Depends how easily they can get over the canyons."

"I see. How safe are we here then?" Teyla asked.

"Not much. You and me, we could maybe hold off a dozen men or so from those rocks, but only if they come from the general direction of the Gate. If they send more men, or come from another direction, we won’t last long."

"Then we need to move," Teyla said.

"Yeah." He frowned. "I saw some mesas not far from here that we could hike to. There might be some caves or something. There’s also a sliver canyon about a mile off that we might be able to hide in. We leave now, we should make it to the canyon pretty quick, even carrying the two of them." He nodded at John and Rodney.

Teyla’s eyebrows lifted, looking up at him. "What, on foot?"

"Yeah," he said, offering her a puzzled look. "How else? You just said we need to move."

"Yes," Teyla agreed. "But I meant, we need to move the Jumper."

"The Jumper?" he repeated, his eyebrows lifted. "How? You thinking of carrying it? Because you’re doing that alone."

"No." She gave him a dark look, not missing the sarcasm. "If we wake Colonel Sheppard, we can fly it further away."

Ronon frowned. "Not sure that’s such a good idea. Doesn’t this thing show up on their sensors? They’ll just keep coming, because they’ll know where to find us if we stay with it."

"We cannot leave the Jumper," Teyla said, shaking her head. "It may be our only way home."

"Maybe, maybe not," Ronon replied, frowning. "All I know is, this thing," he reached back and tapped the ship, "sticks out like a fly in milk. We’ve a better chance if we ditch it. I can keep us hid."

"I understand, Ronon, but—" She paused suddenly, then turned her attention to the shadowed interior. She thought she had heard a soft moan, and she lifted her eyebrows at Ronon. John was coming around again. "That is likely Colonel Sheppard, waking up. If it is, he should make the decision. At the very least, if he can, he might be able to fly us further away from the Kaveer."

Ronon grimaced, but did not disagree, and she felt him follow her as she headed back inside.

____________________________________________________

First thing he tried to do was move his left arm, and it was only after the attempt that he remembered why that was a really bad idea.

Hissing in pain, John woke to a burning sensation all up and down the arm, from shoulder to elbow, and, the closer he got to waking, the hotter it got. His attempt to move it, even a little, had turned a smoldering ache to flaming, seeming to send searing agony up and down his entire body (even though, rationally, he could tell it was concentrated on his arm). He must have yelled out, because sound filled his head, intensifying the dull throb behind his left temple to a pounding maelstrom—a second agony that was only getting worse the more he tried to get away from it. His feet pumped, seeking purchase, and his eyes struggled to open, to free himself from the bonds of the pain he could not contain.

Then someone was holding onto him, talking rapidly, her words attempting to soothe. But all he could feel was the burning and the pounding in his head.

Then, a soft pinprick on his right arm, and a sort of stuttering coolness spread through his frame, taking away some of the pain…but not all.

It was enough to allow him to focus on words, though. And who spoke them.

"…morphine for the pain. I am sorry, John. I wish I could give you more, but we need you to stay awake. Can you hear me? John? Can you open your eyes? You managed it once before, remember?"

Teyla.

The pain lessened, and he shook, feeling the still boiling heat in his left arm but feeling cold everywhere else. Trembling, and hating that sensation almost as much as the pain, he forced his reluctant eyes to open, blinking a lot when they filled with water. What the hell had happened?

"John?" Teyla was still speaking, somewhere above him. "John, look at me. You recall what I told you before? You are badly hurt—you were too close to the energy beam when it hit. Thankfully, it did not actually hit you, but it got close enough for the heat to burn through your clothes. I believe the damage is at least second degree and…and…? John? Are you even hearing me?"

Somewhere in the middle of that, he had finally managed to turn squinted eyes on the blurry face leaning over him. It was definitely Teyla—even blurry, she was beautiful.

"Hey Teyla," he croaked out. His throat felt like sandpaper as well—was there any water?

"Here," Ronon leaned in then, holding a canteen. Carefully, he dribbled some water into John’s mouth, and the colonel smiled softly in gratitude.

"Thank you," he said softly, still unable to focus on either of them clearly.

"John," that was Teyla again, "John, I hate to do this to you, but I need you to sit up. Do you think you can sit up?"

He blinked a little more, and saw dried blood on her face. He frowned. When had that happened?

"You okay?"

She seemed to grimace slightly, as if she had heard that question before. "I am fine, John. Can you sit up?"

He grimaced, and, with a solid weight pushing at his back—which he recognized as Ronon—and Teyla pulling on his right arm, he somehow managed to sit up. He stomach rebelled briefly, and his equilibrium swirled a bit, but he was sitting. His vision started to clear, and he got a good look at the Jumper. For a moment, he just stared.

What the hell…?

And then his memory came back like a slap to the face…the Kaveer, the shield on the Gate, the weapon. He thought he had avoided it, thought they had gotten away. How could he have been so careless!

The damage looked impossible to quantify—the beam had obviously punched a hole through the side of the Jumper just behind where he’d been sitting. How the hell was he even alive? Half of the front windshield was missing where the beam had exited and a portion of the controls on the pilot’s console were gone—about where his left hand usually sat.

Trembling more now, his eyes were drawn downwards, looking at the arm slung tight to his chest—the one that felt like it was ten sizes to big. His fingers did not look damaged but…

Ow. Owowowowowow. He’d tried to move them, to curl them. The pain was intense, and he found himself slumping forward, his vision graying at the edges. Teyla’s hand pressed against his chest, tipping him back up and into the warm lump behind him. He could feel himself trembling again, and hated his body for appearing so treacherously weak when his team needed him.

"You must stay awake, John," Teyla said, leaning into his line of vision. He lifted his gaze to hers, blinking away some of the water in his eyes, and breathed in slowly as she continued. "Your arm is badly damaged, yes, but it is still there." Her hand on his chest lifted to his unhurt right shoulder, squeezing it, "I have cleaned and bandaged it, but there is little else I can do for you right now. John…we need to know, do you think you feel well enough to fly the Jumper?"

He looked at her, then grimaced, looking over her shoulder at the dead console. "The controls are gone," he said, coughing a little because of his dry throat.

"Not completely. Rodney was able to fly it to here. We just need to fly it a little further, to get more distance between us and the Kaveer. Can you—"

"Rodney?" John straightened, suddenly aware that he had not heard a single word from the scientist. "Where is he?" The beam had cut through behind his chair, but it hadn’t been that far from where McKay had been sitting. The already hurt McKay.

Vaguely, he recalled being told that Rodney was sleeping...but if he was this hurt and they were trying to wake him to fly the Jumper, then McKay had to be worse off. Teyla's clenched jaw as she regarded him added credence to that.

"Where is he?" he asked, not hiding the command in his voice.

Teyla shifted to the side, allowing John to see what he hadn’t before while she was in the way. Curled in on himself under the pilot’s console was Rodney—just brown hair sticking out from a gray blanket. He looked dead.

John felt his eyes water again, but not from pain. "Is...is he...?"

"He is alive," Teyla assured him. "John…John! Look at me!"

His eyes had glazed over at the sight of Rodney, unable to think about anything but whether he had lost his friend. At her shout, he swallowed at looked back at her, taking in the determined look on her face.

"John," she whispered, "I know the Jumper looks terrible, but we have to move. If you cannot get the Jumper to power up and fly, then we need to escape on foot. Our chances of surviving if we must do the latter are not good, especially not with you and Rodney hurt as you are. And so, I ask you again, will you try to fly the Jumper?"

He took in a deep breath, and, slowly, nodded. He understood. It was a desert outside—Teyla and Ronon on their own could probably escape detection, but not with him and Rodney—not with them both hurt. Not unless...they left him and Rodney behind…

"We are not leaving you behind," Teyla said firmly, grasping his right shoulder more tightly. John blinked—had he said that out loud?

He grimaced, knowing she meant it. And knowing Ronon would echo it. He let out a sigh.

"Help me up," he said.

John felt arms wrap suddenly around his waist from behind. Before he knew what was happening, Ronon had him lifted to his feet, his world tipping all around him in crazy, red, gold and black relief. He breathed heavily, trying to fight down the nausea. Then, almost abruptly, he was carried over and stood up before the pilot’s controls, looking out through a hole in the windshield bigger than his head. He did not want to know what had happened to the pilot's chair that should be here—but guessed it was probably why he wasn't more barbecued.

"Please, John," Teyla was standing next to him, Ronon still holding him up by his waist. "You must try."

John nodded again, then looked down at the arms around his waist.

"Let go," he ordered, swallowing down another bout of nausea. "I can stand." The arms immediately released, and John staggered a little as his shaky legs took his full weight. He looked down to help find his footing, and saw Rodney by his feet, preventing him from moving too far forward.

Swallowing down the bile in his throat, he leaned over and rested his right hand atop the panel.

The Jumper flickered…then came to life. John’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, honestly amazed. No plane could sustain this much damage and have worked—but then, this wasn’t a plane.

Gritting his teeth, he mentally pictured the Jumper rising up out of the sand, and the floor tilted slightly. Outside, the world shifted—they were moving.

But…he couldn’t direct it. His hand slid down, grasping the right hand control, but there was no left hand control. More to the point, he would not have been able to use if even if the control had been there—his left arm, for all intents and purposes, was as broken as the control.

"We just need distance," Teyla told him. "We don’t need to head in any particular direction. Thus, straight ahead," she gestured to the landscape before them, "is good enough."

"Actually, look there," Ronon was pointing towards something in the distance—it looked like greenery. "Could be an oasis, or the top of a canyon with some water. Can you get us there? It’s far enough away—gotta be at least twenty miles."

"I can get us there," John said, more for their sake than because it was true. He nudged the ship forward—and instantly felt the drag on the left side. The right engine pod was overcompensating for what had to be damage to the left. The ship started to veer and stutter. In case the Jumper crapped out, he kept them close to the ground—that and the fear that, any higher might make them a target again. He was making an assumption that the energy weapon could not fire this low to the ground—or perhaps it was hope. He vaguely recalled thinking that the beam should not have been able to bend as much as it had when it was targeting them. Every time he had attempted to put sideways distance between them and the weapon, it had cut them off.

His jaw began to ache as he gritted his teeth even more tightly, trying to mentally balance the two engine pods in his mind and keep them moving straight. It felt like he was trying to drive a truck through molasses.

Teyla and Ronon said nothing about their slow progress, until Teyla looked behind her.

"Ronon," she said, "you should watch the back. The rear hatch is still open—it’ll enable you to watch for the Kaveer."

"Sheppard, you gonna be okay?" Ronon asked, and John nodded. He felt stronger now, even if he was forced to keep all his attention on the ship. If they needed any kind of maneuverability in this thing, they were screwed.

But they were moving.

His world soon narrowed to Teyla by his side, Rodney’s warmth at his feet, the pain in his left shoulder and upper arm, and the feeling of a very sick Jumper at his fingertips. He could feel himself trembling, but, except for his left arm, his body felt strangely far away.

They were moving faster now, and he desperately wanted to look over his shoulder, to see what they were leaving behind—but was afraid to lose his concentration. He did not hear any weapon’s discharges from Ronon’s weapon, but that did not mean they weren’t in danger.

The green they saw in the distance had transformed into the tops of trees, and, as he climbed a little higher, he could see the fir-like trees were dotting a downhill slope falling away from them, covered thickly with sage and juniper-like bushes. Lifting the ship up over the trees and bushes, he saw that the red earth gave away to sun-bleached rocks and, abruptly, a very wide, very deep verdant canyon. A wide, muddy looking river flowed down in the depths, surrounded by trees and plants on all sides. It could have been the Navajo National Monument back home—just without the cliff dwellings.

He could feel the morphine starting to fade, and as his mental state cleared, so did the pain return. His left shoulder was soon in agony, threatening to overwhelm him, and his headache had really begun to beat angrily against his skull.

He was grinding his teeth now. He no longer fought to stay awake, but to ignore the burning pain that wanted to drown out everything else.

Floating the Jumper down, he managed to turn it just enough to allow it to land gently on a small island in the middle of the shallow river, bushes and dry looking trees on all sides. The sand here was whiter, softer.

It’d make a good vacation spot.

Letting out a deep breath, he called up the HUD to try to determine the extent of the damage, not wanting to have it distract him before.

"Power levels are low," he remarked tiredly, knowing Teyla was still hovering by his side. "And the left engine pod is most definitely damaged. It did not retract when we landed—which probably made whatever damage the beam caused even worse." He let out another breath and stepped back, automatically shifting to the side to avoid the chair that wasn’t there. His right arm crossed under his left, cradling it lightly. Teyla shifted with him, then bent down to check once more on Rodney.

Ronon came tramping in from the rear, holstering his blaster.

"That put at least thirty-five, maybe forty more miles between us and them," the Satedan said. "Gives us at least a couple of hours to head out on foot and find someplace better to hide." He nodded at John. John sighed.

"Leave the Jumper?" Teyla asked, looking up from Rodney’s side.

"We don’t have a choice. We stay here," Ronon shrugged, "we die." He sounded almost casual about it.

"He’s right, Teyla," John said, moving back to Rodney’s chair and gingerly sitting down. His head was throbbing again now too, and he balefully regarded the Med Kit—some Tylenol would be nice.

Appearing to read his mind (or perhaps he had spoken out loud again), Teyla moved over to the kit and pulled out the bottle.

"I do not see how leaving the Jumper is beneficial," she said, uncapping it and spooling a couple of pills into her hand. "If we can just effect some repairs—"

John shook his head, then frowned when it increased the throbbing. Note to self, John, don’t do that again. "I can probably figure out what’s wrong," he said, "but not how to fix it. Rodney’s the only one who can—"

"I might be able to fix it," Teyla said, handing him the pills. He stared at her a moment, not hiding his surprise, then down at the pills. Popping them, he took the canteen Ronon handed him and swallowed them down.

"We’ll need more water," he said, handing the canteen back to Ronon and closing his eyes. His good hand rubbed at his forehead, carefully avoiding the bruise he knew was forming on it.

"Colonel," Teyla’s voice had deepened, the only sign that his response had annoyed her, and she moved into the back, pointing up at the two still open panels, "the controls in the rear of the Jumper appear to be intact, although there are clearly a number of burnt out crystals. Still, it is possible that the issues surrounded the lack of maneuverability can be—"

"Teyla..." Opening his eyes with reluctance, Sheppard leaned forward on the chair, resting his right arm on his leg and looking back at her. "I appreciate what you’re saying, I do." He squinted a little at the bright sunlight that backlit his teammate. "But this Jumper is a beacon to the Kaveer. They have it on their sensors. Who knows what other sorts of weapons or technology they may have—and so long as we stay with the Jumper, they will know exactly where to find us. Ronon’s right—continuing on foot may be our best chance."

"Surely we can not leave the Jumper here for the Kaveer to find," Teyla argued, her brow furrowing. "Who knows what they might do to it. Especially if they can get it working—we know at least one of their members has the Ancestor’s gene. That kind of technology in the hands of people like this…"

"This thing isn’t repairable, Teyla. Look at it," John turned his head to look at the front before returning his gaze to hers. "Whole left hand side of the controls in front are missing. I could barely manage any speed with it like that, much less hope to avoid anyone shooting at us."

"This ship can be controlled in other ways," Teyla answered, gesturing to the panels. "Over the last two months, I have been working a little with Doctor Zelenka. He has been providing lessons, so to speak, on the Jumper, and he also gave me some reading materials. I am fairly certain I can at least—"

"Yeah, but, Teyla...even if you could fix it enough to provide some control, you can't do anything about the shield over the Gate or that energy weapon. The Jumper just isn't useful to us—right now, it's only a danger. Ronon's right." He sighed, leaning back. "We have to leave it."

"But..."

"And the longer we delay," he continued, "the easier it will be for the Kaveer to find us, especially if we're carrying Rodney. We need to leave sooner rather than later."

Teyla frowned then shook her head, her gaze meeting his squarely. "John, this is not just about keeping the Jumper out of the Kaveer’s hands. Look at the environment out there," she waved a hand to the hot, red colored planet outside the windshield. "We have no gear or protection for a prolonged stay in the desert—certainly, we do not have enough food—and it will take weeks before the Daedalus will be close enough to rescue us. It was on its way to Earth when we last had contact a few days ago—they'll be there now, or almost there. And even if the three of us could survive, which, in your state, I highly doubt, I know Rodney will not. Moreover, the Kaveer have the advantage of knowing this land better than we do—it would be miraculous if we are able to escape detection for that long. If we have any hope at all of surviving, we need this Jumper."

"Or," John said, his voice tight, "You could leave us behind."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed fiercely. Walking back up to face him, she crossed her arms as she looked down at him sitting in Rodney's chair. "Absolutely not."

"Teyla, listen to me..." He took a breath, recalling his thoughts from earlier, the argument he'd planned for this moment. "If you and Ronon leave, get yourselves to a safe distance—they won’t kill us. I’m pretty sure of that. They might even be able to help us. If they want our knowledge, they’ll need to keep us alive. They—"

"Torture people," Ronon growled from the back, appearing with a couple of canteens over his arm. "Probably you, since they know McKay’s got the information they want. McKay showed off enough to make that obvious to them. We’re not letting that happen."

"Ronon is right, John," Teyla said, nodding to the Satedan. "These are cruel people—what I saw in the faces of their victims was enough to convince me of that. I will not let them anywhere near either of you without a fight."

"What she said," Ronon affirmed. "We’re not leaving you behind."

He frowned—didn't they get it? The point was to give them a chance! "Just think about it for a second. If you escape now, you can return to rescue us," John said. "Just go and…"

"Not happening," Ronon crossed his arms. "And you know it."

John frowned even more deeply, "I could order you."

"And we could ignore you," he replied.

"And we would," Teyla affirmed.

John took in a deep breath, and winced as it shifted his hurt arm. When he looked up again, their expressions had not changed. Damn.

"Fine. But that brings us back to the original point," he focused on Teyla, "if all four of us are going to be hiding—then we need to get away from this Jumper, now."

If anything, Teyla's expression grew even more determined.

"And I reiterate what I said before—if all four of us go out there," she looked past Ronon towards the back hatch, "then you and Rodney will not survive. You will die in that desert."

John lowered his head to his chest, trying not to sigh. "Teyla...either we all go, or you leave Rodney and me behind. Those are the only real options here."

"What if I told you that I believe this Jumper could still get us home, even damaged."

John frowned—he hadn't seen that coming. He lifted his head, and found himself meeting a pair of brown eyes that desperately wanted him to listen to her. "What?"

"Doctor McKay once before wrote a program that could disable a Gate Shield. If he is still able to do that, he will need the Jumper to relay it. And if he can disable the shield...then he may also be able to disable that weapon." Teyla sounded pleased with herself.

John gave a small head shake, still leery of doing that too much, "I'm pretty sure that's a special program he uploaded into the Ancient mainframe on Atlantis. Unless he—"

"Doctor Zelenka told me that the Jumpers are designed to interact with Ancient technology," Teyla said. "It is why they always show up on Ancient sensors, but no other technology can detect them when they are cloaked. Rodney should be able to upload whatever he needs into their database using the Jumper's interface—he just has to program it to do so. In fact," her eyebrows arched, "Rodney might even be able to take us off their sensors as well."

John just stared at her, then closed his eyes and drew in a slow breath. "Teyla, I'm not disputing it's a good idea..." He opened his eyes again and gave a quick head tilt, "A really good idea. Just one problem," his eyebrows lifted, "McKay's unconscious."

Ronon suddenly snorted, drawing both Teyla and John's gaze to him before she could reply. The Satedan was wearing a crooked smile.

John frowned. "What? What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Ronon shrugged. "Just, thinking maybe Teyla's idea could work. Bettin' McKay could do it."

John's frown turned to bewilderment. "What? How? McKay's—"

"...Standing right behind you," Ronon said, pointing between them to the front of the ship.

John and Teyla whipped their heads around, to see Rodney leaning heavily against the broken console, glaring at them with pain-filled blue eyes. The blanket was still around his shoulders, slipping as he tried to straighten his half bent over stance.

"Nice of you to finally notice," Rodney snarled, his voice as soft as sandpaper. "Took your time. Seriously, how did the two of you not see me getting up?"

———————————————————————————————

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE WHINING WIND

"Rodney!" Teyla's call was filled with relief, but Rodney just shook his head, then winced when the motion obviously caused pain.

"Sure, now you see me." He swallowed, and one trembling hand drifted to his chest. "I'm clearly hurt, in need of care, and you two don't even spare a glance in my direction. What is up with that? I could have been dying here! I might still be dying! Oh, but, no..." He flapped a hand at them then, as if to gesture them away. "You two just continue to ignore your good and probably mortally injured friend Rodney—go back to your little argument and I'll just collapse from agony." He finished the long speech with a harsh cough, bending over some more.

Ronon grinned, pushing between Teyla and John and handing Rodney one of the canteens, uncapping it as he did so. Rodney's hand shook when he went to take it, so he balled his hand into a fist, his jaw tensing. When he opened his hand again, it was still, and he was able to take it with a steady hand...for about a minute. It was shaking again when he lowered it from his lips. He sighed a little.

When he handed it back to Ronon, who was still smiling, he turned what could only be described as a death glare on John and Teyla.

"Now," he said, "I'm going to admit that I don't entirely remember how we got here, or where here is, but I know this ship is not supposed to look like this." He held up the unattached left hand control stick and took a few unsteady steps forward, blinking around at the people with him as if everything was too bright. "I also know that, based on what I heard, you," he pointed the control at Teyla, "are right. And you," he pointed it at John, "are so, so, so wrong. You wanted to drag me out there?" He pointed towards the back hatch, and the world outside. "Are you insane? Desert! Des-ert! People die in deserts!"

John just blinked, "Rodney, I..."

"No, no, don't even try. You...you..." McKay shuddered slightly, then put his hand to his mouth. Suddenly, he was staggering quickly to the back, nearly colliding with the edge of the hatch, before leaning over the edge of the ramp and throwing up.

John sucked in a breath, grimacing...and tried not to be grateful that McKay had made it outside before doing that. Ronon, meanwhile, just let out a soft sigh and followed the scientist, still carrying the canteens.

Teyla, on the other hand, stayed exactly where she was, arms still crossed, her eyebrows lifted. It was the sort of look she gave him whenever she knew she had won an argument.

John gave her a wry look, and stood, teetering a little, pressing his legs against Rodney’s chair to steady himself. He frowned, wondering why even just standing had managed to make his arm hurt. Damn it.

Teyla was already moving, reaching for his good arm as if she could help. "John, are you..."

"I'm fine," he said quickly, drawing his right arm away from hers. "Thanks. All right," he looked towards the back, "if he's really okay, and he can do it...we go with your plan. But I’m going to get Ronon started on preparing packs, just in case."

She nodded, though she smiled briefly with the acknowledgement that he was giving her 'plan' a chance now.

"Thank you, John."

"Thank McKay's thick skull," he replied, smirking a little. "Takes a lickin', keeps on tickin'." She just smiled back softly, not getting the reference, but not needing to. Returning his gaze to the back, he noted Rodney had gone the rest of the way outside after throwing up, and had sat himself down on the bottom of the ramp, his head against his knees. "Whatever Zelenka's taught you, go ahead and do what you can. I'm going to go and make sure Rodney can really do this—especially since it probably means he has to fly the Jumper as well."

Her eyebrows lifted—she obviously had not considered that. "Fly it?"

"It all depends on whether we get the left hand controls back," he explained. "And if we do...whether both left and right can be controlled with one hand…" He trailed off, not needing to point out the obvious.

She gave a grimace, but nodded. "Of course."

John gave a single nod in return, then turned and slowly made his way into the back, trying to jar his arm as little as possible as he walked. Following him, Teyla stopped near the control panels and picked up the data tablet off one of the benches. She started tapping the pad with the stylus, and John tried not to smile as he continued his journey into the sun-drenched world outside.

Ronon was squatting next to Rodney, who was still sitting with head against his knees and his boots half buried in the soft, pale sand. Spotting John, the Satedan nodded, stood and, holding up one of the canteens, indicated he was going back to the spring he found for more.

"When you get back," John said, "start preparing packs." Ronon gave a dark grimace in reply, but didn't disagree. With one final tap on McKay’s back, the tall man jogged off into the desert.

Rodney lifted his head to watch him go, then tilted it up towards the sky as John gingerly set himself down beside him. The colonel tried not to groan as pain spiked up his arm and straight for the knot he could feel forming on his skull, but the sound came out anyway. Rodney, looking washed out in the bright light, squinted worriedly at the sound.

"What happened to your arm?" he asked softly. "You look awful."

"Apparently, I was a little too close to that energy beam when it sliced through the cockpit." John adjusted the sling, hissing as it rubbed against too sensitive skin. He could see blood spots already prickling through the white from the top of his shoulder all the way down the tricep—Teyla was right, he wouldn’t survive in the desert with this arm. It would get infected very easily, even despite her ministrations—he’d last a couple of days, at most. Thinking about it made it worse—a wash of hot and cold ran through him, spiking the pain even more. He gritted his teeth to stop another groan from escaping. Amazingly, it worked, and he expelled his breath in a heavy sigh.

"Ouch," Rodney said in commiseration, not missing the play of pain across his friend's face. "Sorry." He tilted his head a little, his eyes a little hooded. "And your head? What happened to that?"

"Whacked it on the DHD."

McKay smiled. "You know, that bruise on your forehead is impressive. Like Tiffany Glass. It’s a vivid reddish purple." His shaking right hand pointed up at his own forehead, starting up near the hairline and then moving down. "Runs from hairline almost to the top of your eyebrow. It’s going to compete with your nose for size soon. Although," the small smile grew, "not many things can compete with your nose for size."

John gave him an arched look, wincing a little when his eyebrow obviously impacted bruise. "You’re not serious. You did not just pick on the size of my nose."

"Call ‘em like I see ‘em." Still smiling, the scientist had turned his face back into the sun.

"Girls love my nose. It's majestic."

"Sure it is. Majestic like the Rockies, or maybe the Himalayas...."

"Least I don’t have a head the size of a beach ball. Has it always been that big? How did you keep it propped up when you were smaller—those sticks they use to hold up orchid branches?"

Rodney just grinned. "Big head, big brain. It’s all relative."

"Big head, big ego, lots of hot air," John replied. "And sadly, not a lot of hair..."

"Ouch!" Rodney said, giving John a mock wounded look. "That's low, Sheppard. You do not pick on a man's hair!"

"Yeah, but it rhymed so nicely," Sheppard smiled wickedly. He pointed up at his own head, and the rakish mop on top. "And I'm not going to lose my hair. Thicker than ever."

"Yeah, just like your skull," Rodney replied.

"Ach," John chuckled. "Okay, I walked into that one."

Rodney’s grin grew wider, then started to fade. After a moment, he tilted his head down and looked forward, squinting at the sandy valley. The expression on his face was blank now.

"You know," Rodney frowned. "I've been trying to remember what happened, exactly. Last thing I remember clearly, we were nearly through the atmosphere—I had thought we had made it. Then it's just lots of swinging and jarring and bright orange light…"

"That’d be the energy beam."

"Probably. Whatever—what I mean is, it’s all just a blur. Thing is, according to Ronon, I supposedly stopped us from crashing. Flew the ship and landed it…and I don’t remember anything about that. Total blank." He frowned some more, then looked at John, who, taking a page from Rodney’s book, was now the one tipping his head back and letting the sun caress his face. "Isn’t that strange?"

"Not really," John replied, lowering his head again to look at Rodney. "You got knocked on the head…twice. Concussions often do that—make you forget what happened that caused the accident. Just one of their lovely side effects. You'll probably remember eventually."

"Oh," Rodney said again, and he rubbed at his chest. Then, "Is vomiting another?"

"Yup."

"Fabulous."

"Just try to keep it outside the Jumper, will you?" John pursed his lips, as if considering something, "I wonder if we could position you next to that hole in the side, so every time you had to throw up, you could just lean out."

"Har," Rodney grimaced. His voice softened, "Another thing, I’m not sure there’ll be much more to throw up soon. Look," he held up a hand, which was shaking, just as it was before when he tried to take the canteen from Ronon. "Gotta be my hypoglycemia. I mean, with everything that’s happened, I bet my blood sugar is—"

"Could also be adrenaline. Or nerves. Or it could just be psychosomatic." John smiled as he tipped his head back again. "I’m going with the third one."

Rodney spluttered, "Psychosomatic? It’s a real condition, Colonel! I suffer from it daily!" He winced, as if it hurt to yell, and rubbed at his forehead. John pretended not to notice.

"Carson thinks it’s mostly in your head."

"There’s a lot of things in my head, Colonel, but this isn’t one of them. Just because the Voodoo King thinks all things that can’t be surgically removed or genetically altered isn’t a real disease—"

"Carson’s a brilliant doctor. You know, I think he’s smarter than you."

Rodney’s eyes widened, showing all the whites. "Oh…oh, you take that back, you…you…" He groaned suddenly, leaning forward and pressing a hand to his stomach. Then he shot a glare at John so dark, the Colonel actually flinched a little before grinning broadly. "You’re just messing with me, aren’t you?" Rodney snarled at the grin. "Sick and injured man, here! How can you be so mean?"

"You're one to talk," John grinned. "You called my nose big."

"Yeah, but making fun of you makes me feel better."

John snorted, but didn't disagree. Fact was...he felt exactly the same. "Yeah," he admitted quietly. He wondered, sometimes, just how attached he'd become to fighting with Rodney. The back and forth, the constant one-upmanship, the completely pointless mocking....And the greatest thing of all, it was all water off a duck's back. He could hang up on McKay when on the radio or the phone—Lord knows he did it at the end of almost every conversation he'd had with the man back on Earth—and it never mattered. McKay never, ever took offense. And McKay could call him any insult, vilify and malign him every which way to Sunday, and John always knew it wasn't how he truly felt. It had never occurred to him that it was anything but McKay being McKay. He'd never had a relationship with anyone like that before—not even his family—who, really, were the ones you were supposed to have a relationship like that with. Family always loves you, no matter what.

He snorted again, and looked over at Rodney. The scientist had his eyes closed again, leaning forward so that his head was getting very close to his bent knees.

"Hey," he called.

Rodney jerked a little and looked up, blinking out at the landscape.

"Don't fall asleep," John said.

"Yeah," Rodney gave a single nod. "I know. Because if I do, you'll kill us."

That startled John—McKay was serious. "Come again?"

McKay’s lips twisted, "I may be a bit addled, but I’m not deaf. You told Ronon to prepare the packs. You’re seriously considering us traipsing into the desert."

Oh. John grimaced, but gave a nod. "If we have to, yes."

"Crazy. I won't survive a day out there." He looked at John, "What if they have rattlesnakes? Remember Emergency? When Johnny Gage got bitten? He was down for the count almost instantly. The rattlesnakes in Pegasus could be ten times worse. Hell, they could be Wraith rattlesnakes!"

"Wraith rattlesnakes?"

"There are Wraith bugs, there could be Wraith rattlesnakes. There are probably even Wraith scorpions out there somewhere."

"Or Wraith McKays. The deadliest creatures of all!"

"I'm being serious!"

"So am I. McKay, look...." John frowned, realizing Rodney's anger wasn't overcoming his fear this time. He leaned forward, grabbing at a long piece of dry, yellow grass with his good hand to poke at the sand with. "How much of my argument with Teyla did you hear?"

The scientist gave a soft sigh, "Not much. All I really heard was my name, bandied with words like, 'if McKay can do this,' or 'if McKay can do that,' followed by, 'then we don't have to go die out in the desert.' So," he sighed again, "I figured I should get up, because I didn't want to die in the desert."

Sheppard gave a small smile, then looked down. "Yeah. That's about the gist of it."

McKay raised his still shaking hand to his head, and, as much as John tried to pretend it wasn't serious—that shake was anything but psychosomatic. McKay was also talking much more slowly than normal—he was almost drawling.

Yeah...He and Rodney were in real trouble.

"What do you need me to do?" Rodney asked quietly, rubbing his right hand with his left now. Rodney hadn't noticed...but his left hand wasn't shaking as much as the right. John had to push down the urge to freak out about that. He was grateful Rodney hadn't noticed—had attributed the trembling to hypoglycemia.

"Fix the Jumper."

"Obviously. What else?"

"Knock out that Gate Shield."

McKay nodded, "Sure. What else?"

"Take us off their sensors."

"Easier and easier. And...?"

"Stop them from firing that weapon."

"Ha, and I thought you were going to ask me to do hard things! Silly me. Anything else?"

"Just that us...," John pursed his lips, then gave a slow head shake. "We may only have a couple of hours to get that all done before we have to move the Jumper again. And...the Jumper only has a few hours of power left."

Rodney made another 'ha' like sound, this one almost a cry of pain. "Fabulous," he said shakily. "Maybe I'll turn water into wine while I'm at it. Would that be good?"

"Actually, no. Not in a desert. Wine into water would be cool though. Could you do that?"

Rodney didn't answer. He just curled his knees up higher and lowered his head against them fully.

"For the record?" he muttered, his voice muffled by his knees.

"Yeah?"

"This sucks."

John did the only thing he could. He rested a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I know."

___________________________________

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: WINDS OF CHANGE

Rodney felt the feather light touch of Sheppard’s hand on his shoulder, and his quiet, "I know." The hand stayed there only for a moment, warming his skin through his jacket, and then it was gone. It was all he needed, though, to pick up his head and set his jaw. He squinted into the too bright light of the desert, ignoring the flashes of pain behind his eyes, and started thinking about what he needed to do.

Two hours. He needed a shortcut around the code he needed to write, to think of alternatives to what needed to be done, to get them home.

Pushing up off the bottom of the ramp, he staggered heavily when his balance suddenly fled—the world had turned sideways, bending almost on its axis, and it was only by sheer luck that his sense of equilibrium came back before he fell over.

Panting a little, he held onto his knees, bent over like an old man, and breathed through the dizziness. His world had grayed there—it was amazing he didn't faint. Pass out. Oh, who was he kidding?

Oh yeah…this really sucked.

"You okay?" John asked, the question almost too soft to hear. It meant he was honestly concerned, and Rodney grimaced. Of course, he wasn’t okay! But, though he never said it, he knew Sheppard’s injuries were a lot worse than his. Knew that when he’d been rattling on about snakes and scorpions, he was thinking more about just how long they would be here if they were forced to hide. All he’d done was knock his head a couple of times—with Ronon and Teyla to protect him, he’d likely survive…but, with that arm, Sheppard wouldn’t.

And Rodney wasn’t about to let that happen.

Come on, McKay. Get it in gear.

Straightening, he turned and looked down to where his friend was still sitting on the bottom of the ramp. Sheppard was pale, whiter than the sand beneath their feet, making his eyes vividly dark where they peered up at him. His left arm was bandaged from shoulder to hand, hidden inside a sling, but flecks of blood were visible even through the sling’s thick material. Damn, that had to hurt. He might have to revise his answer to "least likely to admit to pain."

"Fine," Rodney said, finally answering the question he’d been asked. He reached out a hand, offering to help Sheppard up, hating the visible tremor and the numbness he felt creeping down his right arm. He’d have to eat something…provided he could keep that something down.

Sheppard looked at the hand, them, with a twist of his lips, took it and let Rodney pull him up. He teetered as well, once he was on his feet, and Rodney grabbed Sheppard’s good arm to stop the other man from falling over.

"Okay?" he asked.

Sheppard gave a nod, then took in a breath and straightened up fully. He smiled at Rodney.

"Fine," he echoed. It was about as believable as when Rodney had said it.

"Good," Rodney said, not wanting to dwell on his friend’s lie. "You’ll need to be, because I’m going to need your help."

Sheppard’s head tilted, the smile turning wry. "Whatever you need."

Rodney didn’t smile back, because he hadn’t expected Sheppard to say or do anything else. Instead, he just walked up the ramp and back into the cool darkness of the Jumper, unconsciously rubbing his right hand with his left.

And then he stopped.

Teyla stood before the left hand control panel, Rodney’s tablet on her arm. She was reading something on the display. Rodney frowned, what was she…?

Oh. Right. Nice of her. She had set it up for him—he wondered who had taught her to do that? Sheppard?

"Thanks, Teyla," he said, stepping forward and reaching for the tablet. "I can take it now."

"Oh," she looked up at him, her eyes a little startled. "I…uh…"

"She’s running the diagnostics for you, McKay," Sheppard supplied smoothly, stepping up next to Rodney. He had said that as if it were normal. "Should probably let her finish."

Rodney blinked once. Teyla was running what? Maybe it was a joke? One he didn’t get…. He frowned—he hated jokes he didn’t get. "What are you talking about? She can’t run diagnostics, Sheppard. She doesn’t know—"

"Power levels are down to only 4.7 percent," Teyla said suddenly, interrupting him. "That should give us approximately three hours and ten minutes of flying time, provided we do not use either the shield or climb too high in the atmosphere. However, if we do not fly too fast, we can cut down on the amount of stress absorbed by the inertial dampeners—and perhaps eke out a little more power from the cells."

Rodney froze, eyebrows high on his forehead. Had he just walked into an alternative universe? Where the hell did she learn…?

"Like going 65 instead of 80 on the highway," Sheppard mused by his side, "to save on gas."

Teyla just looked at the colonel blankly.

"If you say so," she said.

Rodney blinked, mentally unfreezing in order to give Sheppard a sideways glare. Why did he always have to analogize everything? It was like a sickness with the man.

"Also," Teyla looked down again at the tablet, "the control crystals interfacing with the left hand drive pod have become either burnt out or fused, rendering the bulk of them useless. I do not believe they are repairable, but they can probably be bypassed temporarily, or perhaps replaced. I have also determined why we felt some drag on the left side when flying here—something has obviously interrupted the power flow to the pod and perhaps damaged the engine coils themselves, causing the short in the crystals. I am not sure what yet. I need to go outside to see."

Rodney had returned his gaze to hers, and was now studying her without blinking. Part of his mind had taken the information she had reported, already storing it and suggesting changes, solutions. The other part was still stuck on the fact that it was Teyla telling him this. What the hell?

"Give me that," he said, reaching again for the tablet. Teyla’s jaw hardened at the order, but she did as she was instructed. He pulled it from her grip with perhaps a little more force than necessary.

"McKay…" Sheppard warned, but Rodney cut him off with a raised hand.

"Wait," he snapped.

Sheppard waited—Rodney didn’t have to see his face to know that the Colonel was pissed at him right now.

Tablet warming his arm, Rodney hit a few keys and brought up the power consumption screen. A glance up showed him that the tablet was connected in the right place to the panel. Looking down again, he noted the tablet said exactly what Teyla had just told him, though she had obviously extrapolated the parts about not flying too high and the bits about the inertial dampeners—both of which statements were correct.

Her time estimates were correct as well.

He tapped over to another screen, glancing at the information on the left hand controls on the display. From what he saw…she was right about the left hand drive pod. He could double check, pull the crystals, which is what he would do if it were him…but he guessed she already had, which is why she had made those statements. Nothing on the tablet contradicted her.

His eyes lifted, finding her standing quietly before him, arms clasped behind her back and her chin lifted proudly. She was a study of calm, patiently waiting for him to say something. He almost bought the veneer, so used to seeing it on her face, but then she blinked and, for a brief second, he saw her jaw muscle flex.

It was a flinch.

It was a flinch!

My God…she was nervous! He snorted. He couldn’t believe it! She was waiting for his approval! Because she had actually learned how to….Hang on a minute…how…?

"How did you learn how to do this?" he asked.

Teyla nodded, as if having expected the question. "Doctor Zelenka has been teaching me, when he can. He has been doing maintenance on some of the newer Jumpers. I have been helping. He also gave me the links to parts of the database which discuss and describe the Jumpers and their systems," she shrugged, "to read in my spare time."

Rodney frowned a little at that. Zelenka? She had asked Zelenka to teach her?

Why hadn’t she asked him?

Not that he cared of course. Not at all. Not even a little. After all, he’d have probably said no. It’s not like he’d have the time to…

Oh, for Christ’s sake, McKay! Focus!

He looked down again at the tablet.

"I see," he said, fingers wrapping a little more tightly around the leather grip.

Another second went past, and he felt Sheppard shift next to him. Before the colonel could say something, though, either to yell at Rodney or commend Teyla or, heaven forbid, come up with another unnecessary analogy, McKay was shoving the tablet back at Teyla.

"Go on, then," he said. "Finish what you started. I have to get going on taking down that Gate Shield and that weapon."

"And taking us off their sensors," Sheppard added.

"And taking us off their sensors," McKay agreed, not looking at him. He shoved the tablet at her again, and she hastily grabbed for it when he abruptly let go, nearly dropping it in the process.

Without looking at her again, he pushed past, aiming for the front. He didn’t look back to see her face, or Sheppard’s. He didn’t want to. He just settled into his chair and checked to see that the laptop was still there. It was. And it was still on—the power surge caused by the energy beam hadn’t killed it. Will wonders never cease.

His fingers started rattling the keys, calling up everything that the Jumper had automatically recorded about the Ancient machines on this planet—shield, weapons, facilities...everything.

He had just started reading the data downloaded on the shield when something rather obvious occurred to him. Why would he need to write a back door program for this Gate, to take down that shield…when they weren’t coming in the back door? They were already on this side...

With that almost hopeful thought in the back of his mind, he turned his attention to the weapon.

His lips pursed into a dark frown as he read the details of what exactly had taken them down.

The hope disappeared instantly. Crap.

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