Worst Case Scenario
Second Half -- latest update Chapter 14

CHAPTER 9:  WOBBLE

The wagon wobbled, its axles protested and the wheels screamed at the load it was forced to carry.  Teyla tugged at the handle, gripping it tightly as she held onto the Satedan’s collar with her other hand.  He didn’t fit in the bed, and had to be wedged in a sitting position.  His feet dragged along the ground behind them.

They moved through the fog-filled town.

Teyla huffed, doing what she could to put distance behind them.  She’d tried pulling Ronon up the hill, to bring him closer to the Stargate, but the incline was more than she could handle with her loaded wagon and her already taxed resources.  Every inch of her body ached.  Pulling the wagon uphill had become… an uphill battle.

She’d managed to move up one block, to the main street, but that was all she could handle for upward mobility.  Now, she pulled the wagon along the relatively even course, putting more space behind them.  She’d worry about making their way to the Stargate later.

As they moved along, she called out loud for Colonel Sheppard and Doctor McKay, since they still would not respond to the radio.  She listened, keeping her ears keen, trying to discern anything above the wobble-wobble of the burdened wagon, and the deep breathing of the passenger.

They weren’t making very good time – and she knew it.  The distillery could take out the entire town when it went up, and even if she was successful in moving Ronon to a safer location, the others were still missing, and she feared that they could be heading directly toward the danger. 

And, if Sheppard and McKay thought their teammates were in trouble, they’d go looking.  They would start the search at the distillery.

Inside the distillery, she knew the puddle still grew.

Was it safe anywhere in this area?

“Colonel Sheppard!” she drew the name out, putting as much force as she could muster into it, hoping that – maybe, this time, she’d hear a response.

Instead of the colonel’s easy drawl, she heard a quiet voice from the wagon. “Huh…?”  The wagon jerked severely, giving her already maligned joints another wrenching as the wagon came to an abrupt halt.

Ronon had pressed down on his feet, digging them into the road beneath them.  He struggled to sit fully upright. His hands moved from his side, to reach his face and rub his eyes.

Teyla released her grip on his collar, and called hopefully, “Ronon?”

“I feel like…,” Ronon muttered, face in his hands.  “… like shit.”  His hands suddenly dropped and the Satedan gazed out at the fog.  His eyes narrowed and he turned his head to one side and then the other as he took in his surroundings.  A wince made it evident that the action hurt.

“Ronon,” Teyla repeated with a relieved sigh.  “It is good to hear you again.”

He looked down to find his butt wedged inside an orange child’s plaything and he grimaced.  “Why am I in a wagon?” he grumbled.

“It was the best way to transport you,” she informed him and watched Ronon’s uncertain expression.  “The pipes in the building were damaged during the fight and the fuel was spilling onto the floor.  We had to leave the location before the fuel reached the furnace.”

“The fight…” Ronon repeated, looking a little hopeful, as if the mere idea of a ‘fight’ made him feel better.

“You were badly hurt by the kiwanda,” Teyla explained.

Ronon gave an irritated grunt at this news.  “Never fought one before,” he offered as an explanation as he pressed his hands against the sides of the wagon and struggled to release his hind-end from the confines.

For a moment, the wagon lifted, still attached to his rear, but a shove and a wiggle freed him.  The wagon clattered to the ground behind him.

“Kiwandas are difficult to kill,” Teyla said sympathetically as she watched his struggle.

Another grunt, and Ronon shoved himself up, straddling the vehicle.  “So, how’d I do it?”

To that, Teyla offered a wry smile.  “I killed the creature.  You were incapacitated, and I had to carry you outside.”  Her grin increased.

Stepping clear of the wagon, Ronon regarded his companion, looking down at her petite frame.   He frowned and seemed irritated at this news, but the expression passed, changing into something resembling amusement.  He crossed his arms over his chest and chuckled.

“Figured you could do that,” Dex commented.  He rolled one shoulder and then the other.  “Would explain my bruises.”

“I never dropped you,” Teyla stated evenly.

The Satedan took stock of his pains and decided there was nothing that would kill him – bruises, cuts scrapes.  He took a deep breath, and figured that his ribs weren’t broken – bruised maybe.  Yeah, probably bruised.  Head hurt, and things were a bit out of focus.  It made him feel a bit dizzy, but that wasn’t a big issue with him.  “Must have been one hell of a fight.”

”Yes, it was.”  Teyla regarded him, watching how the Satedan hunched his shoulders.  The man was hurting, but was apparently able to function.  She was hurting, too.  Lugging about the large man had nearly crippled her.

But, her smile dropped quickly as she stated, “We must find the others.”

“Hmmm,” Ronon responded.  “You don’t know where they are?”

“They have not answered the radio.  I have shouted their names.”  She lifted a hand to indicate the area around her.  “But there is no reply.”

“Figures,” Ronon responded, looking unsettled.

“It is strange,” Teyla added.  “Something must be wrong.”

“Yeah.”  Ronon looked about in the too close fog.  “Still.  Couldn’t see them if they were standing just a few feet from us,” he muttered.  “Where are we?”  He crossed his arms at his chest as he glared at the empty shops.  “So, we’ll search for them.”

Teyla drew out a breath, looking toward the building that she could no longer see but loomed incredibly large in her mind.  “There is a great danger that the distillery may explode at any moment.  Let us hope that the fuel finds its way to the sewer system.”

Dex shrugged.  “We have to find the others.”  And he started off, in a wobbly walk, back the way they had come.   He paused and felt at his back.  “Where’s my sword?”

Almost timidly, Teyla told him, “I had to leave it.”

With a grunt of annoyance, Ronon told her.  “You owe me a new one.”

CHAPTER 10:  BAD TO WORSE

“Do you hear that?” McKay asked, turning and coming to a stop.

With a grimace, Sheppard kept facing forward, doing what he could to tug the scientist onward.  “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“It sounded like wood splintering.  Like someone breaking up a big piece of wood.”

“Ignore it.”

“Didn’t you hear it? I’m betting it’s the last door we went through.  Something’s busting it up.  This is bad.  This is really really bad, isn’t it?”

"Faster, McKay!"

“That’s definitely the door.  Wait… what’s that now?  Sounds like something – some things – moving.  Moving really fast.”

Sheppard increased his grip on McKay’s elbow and propelled him forward.

“Something smells kind of funny, too.  Have you noticed it?”

“What, you smell something besides yourself?”

“Nice!  Great.  Thank you.  What I meant was … oddly familiar, but I can’t quite place it.”

“It’s not important.”

“Bet it is,” McKay muttered as he furrowed his brow as they kept up the pace.

Sheppard tried to decide what the odor could be – yes it was there – a strange foreign smell in that fishy world.  It wasn’t right.

“You ever wonder if this is really meant to be a sewer system?” McKay asked.

“No,” Sheppard answered curtly.

“I’d really suck if this was a sewer system.  I mean, imagine what sort of stuff must have been in here at some point.”

“I don’t think it was a sewer,” Sheppard said curtly.  “Looks like it was just meant to be a passageway.”

“Still, it sucks,” McKay muttered, holding his arm close to him as he hurried along.  “Really sucks.”

“Yeah,” Sheppard agreed.  “Can’t get much worse than falling on my ass and getting eaten by lobsters.”

McKay gave him a bleak and accusatory look.  “You shouldn’t say that things can’t be worse!”

Sheppard let out a breath, knowing that the scientist was right.  Nothing brought disaster faster than declaring that they’d already survived the worst.  There was no wood to knock on to dispel the bad luck.  He considered knocking on McKay’s head but figured the man had taken enough raps already, so they kept moving.

The scrabbling sound increased and became more important than the strange scent or the possibility of walking through a sewer system.  Sheppard muscled McKay to a faster pace.

“That sound… do you think it’s the lobsters?” Rodney asked.

Sheppard grumbled.

“Because, that sounds like it could be the lobsters.  Oh, I don’t think this is good.  Oh God… I think things just got worse.”

Sheppard pressed forward, hauling McKay along with him.  Rodney seemed to be staggering more – not good.  Sheppard got a stronger grip on him.

“OW!” McKay yelped.  “Hey, come on! You’re jostling my arm.  I broke something here.  OW!  That really hurts!”

“You just bruised it or something,” Sheppard insisted.  “Dislocated your shoulder at best.”

“Did not!  It’s broken!”  Rodney stumbled, trying to keep Sheppard from wrenching his hurt arm as he shoved on the good one.  “Come on!  OW!”

“Move it!” Sheppard shouted, pushing the scientist ruthlessly.  “Goddammit! If they catch up to us, they’ll kill us.  RUN!”

McKay gave Sheppard one frightened look and broke off in a trot, clutching his arm close as he hurried forward. 

Sheppard knew – he knew that they both weren’t going to get out if the lobsters overtook them.  There was only one way to ensure that one of them made it out safely.   He released his hold, giving the Canadian a shove forward.  He stayed in place and watched Rodney continue, illuminated by the light of the P90.

Once he was sure that McKay could move without assistance, Sheppard swung around to shine the light into the dark tunnel behind them.

Sheppard felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick up at the noise that came at him – the chittering clattering sound.  The nestuccas had gotten through the last door – and they weren’t stopping.  He struggled to a half-kneeling position, in spite of his butt’s protesting.  God, why’d I have to bust my butt bone?

Behind him, McKay let out a disgruntled sigh as he stopped in the darkness.  “Hello?” he groused.  “I can’t see without the light!”

“Dammit, McKay!” Sheppard growled, “We’re in a straight tunnel!  Go straight forward!”  The noise was growing stronger.  He could imagine them – envision the foul creatures heading toward him – out of the blackness.  They were probably just out of view.

“But I can’t SEE!”

With a scowl, Sheppard brought the light around to illuminate the path and give McKay a chance to map where he was going.  “There.  See?  Straight!  Now, GO!” he ordered, redirecting the light to tunnel in the other direction.  His ears twitched, listening intently to the coming sound.

“What?  I’m just supposed to do whatever you say now?”

Sheppard closed his eyes for a second in annoyance.  He remembered why he liked dealing with the military.  At least he could order around the marines.  Scientists …scientists were a different story.  And McKay was the biggest pain in the ass ever foisted upon him.  He shuffled uncomfortably as another ‘pain in the ass’ reminded him of its presence.

“McKay, move it or you’ll be sushi in the next few seconds,” Sheppard ordered.  “You had a chance to see what’s in front of you.  Go!  I’m going to need the damn light.  Run.  Try to move in a straight line for a change.”

“It’s not easy… when you take the light away!”

“Fine!  There, I’ll light the way for a while.  GO!  NOW!”  Sheppard turned sharply, lending the light again and noted the scientist’s annoyance as he turned and began moving in the illuminated space.

“Fine!”  Rodney struggled forward with an uneven lope.

“Keep moving!” John ordered.

“I’m trying!” McKay returned.  He came to a halt again, and turned to face Sheppard.  “Why aren’t you coming?” he questioned as he squinted in the glare of the P90’s flashlight.  “Come on, colonel.  We have to go.”

Sheppard wanted to sock him.  “Do NOT look directly at the light!  Dammit, McKay!  Don’t you know anything?”  Irritated, he swung the light back in the direction they’d come.  “You bitch about not being able to see where you’re going and then you go and fuck up your night vision by staring into a light.  Get the hell out of here!  GO!”

The noise was getting louder.  John couldn’t pick out any individual sounds, couldn’t differentiate one claw crunch from another.  It was rattling, horrible clattering cacophony that filled him with an almost unreasonable fear.

He sucked in a breath as he shone the light into the depths of the tunnel.  He and McKay had moved a fair distance from the last door.  Why would the nestuccas bother with them?   It was too far to run on such spindly little freak legs.

But the bug-things had already eaten all the food that the town had to offer.  They were hungry critters.

“Colonel?” McKay’s voice sounded from too short a distance.  “Colonel.  Shouldn’t we keep going?

He could hear their scrambling clattering getting closer.  They were coming – they were moving fast.  He tried to slow his breath, to keep from panting out his fear.  Oh God, this was going to suck.

“I remember you saying something about how we needed to keep moving,” McKay went on.  “Right?  Now would be a good time for that.”

“Go, McKay!” Sheppard shouted, not turning.

“That’s what I’m saying!  Colonel, we have to go now!”

“McKay, get out of here! That’s an order!   I’ll hold them off…”

“… for as long as you can?”  McKay completed, sounding irritated as hell.  “God, where do you get your dialogue?  Old John Wayne movies?”

“McKay!” Sheppard got out through gritted teeth.

“Let me get this straight," Rodney spat out.  "You want me to run – run into the darkness – while you fight off a hoard of marauding lobsters intent on tearing you to bite-sized bits.”

“Would you…”

“And, while they’re enjoying your intestines and sucking the morrow out of your bones, I’m supposed to find my way out without any light?”

“You have your own flashlight!”

The clattering sputtering nattering was getting closer.

“Not anymore!”

“What did you do with it?”  Something moved at the far end of the tunnel, just within the light of the P90.  The floor of the tunnel seemed to undulate.  He swallowed, trying to drive down the horrible sick feeling that caught in his throat.

“How the hell should I know?  I lost it!"

"Where?"

"If I knew that, it wouldn't be lost, would it?  It was hard enough keeping my arm still without trying to juggle a flashlight, too!  I’m having enough trouble just moving forward without passing out.”

Flailing legs and eyestalks moved in the wave of creatures as they clambered closer.

McKay went on, “How am I supposed to fight off the crab creatures after they get past you?  You got a flashlight and a big gun and… fight training… and … probably some other stuff… and a flashlight!”

They moved like one massive insect, all legs and eyes and pointy-poking, heading their way.

“After they’ve eaten up all your bits and brains, they’ll come after me – and they’ll find me, fumbling in the dark, lost – and I got only ONE ARM!  No flashlight.  Do you think I’ll stand a chance?  We’re better off sticking…”

Fuck it!  Sheppard sprang to his feet and grabbed onto McKay who was looming right behind him.  Gruffly, he spun McKay in the right direction, ignoring the cry of pain, and shoved him forward.  “Go!  Go!” he ordered as they broke into a run, putting distance behind them and the lobsters.  He didn’t chance a glance over his shoulder, keeping the light ahead of them.

He didn’t want to see what was following them anyway.

“Would you just…” McKay tried to sputter out.

“Shut the hell up.  Anyone ever tell you how annoying you are?”

“Often,” McKay said with a gasp.  He grunted as he pressed forward and muttered, “This is the ‘worse’ part, isn’t it?”

“Don’t even start with me…” Sheppard growled in return.  “Jeez!” he complained as McKay stumbled, but was kept moving by John’s supporting arm.  “I was trying to save your life.  Now, we’re both going to get killed, dumb ass.”

McKay shot him a glance, and uttered breathlessly as they ran, “I wasn’t thinking straight.  My head hurts.”

“So does my ass,” Sheppard rejoined.

“Same difference,” McKay returned – and for that he got another shove in the right direction.

CHAPTER 11: APOCALYPSE

Teyla and Ronon moved back the way they’d come, quickly poking their heads into buildings and shops, trying to find their missing teammates.  Ronon lurched, using walls and windowsills to keep him upright.  He blinked, shook his head, wobbled and staggered, but never stopped moving.  Teyla stayed with him, wishing she’d thought to keep the wagon.

Ronon was heedless of the dangers, continuing to make his way toward the fuel distillery, not caring that they were often exposed, free of the protection offered by the other buildings.

“Sheppard!” Dex bellowed, wincing.  “McKay!”  His voice reverberated in the close weather.  He often clutched his arms to his chest, to relieve the pain in his ribs – not that it stopped him from shouting.

Teyla echoed him.  “Doctor McKay!  Please respond!  Colonel Sheppard!  Are you hurt?  Do you need assistance?  Answer us!”

Teyla checked one shop while Ronon took the one next door.  She never strayed far from him.  She kept a careful eye on her companion, watching his uneven tread, wishing that he might be able to rest, but knowing that wouldn’t happen – not while the others were missing.

She just hoped that they found them soon.  She wanted to be irritated with Sheppard and McKay.  She wished to find them in a nearby room, with their radios off, fussing about with that sought-after anti-Wraith device.  They’d be all excited about it, like children, and incapable of understanding her exasperation.

She would get annoyed.  Dr. McKay would be frustrated with her annoyance and tell her exactly why she shouldn’t be so upset with the circumstances.  He’d go on and on about it, explaining why his methods of communication (or lack of communication) were superior to anything she’d dreamed up.

She’d fume.

Sheppard would step in and utter some smooth remark that would settle ruffled feathers, and Ronon could collapse spectacularly in some corner and then Beckett would arrive with a bag packed with every necessity, knowing something was wrong.

That was her wish.

They found footprints in the dust, but not their companions.  They kept searching, knowing that it was only a matter of time before something blew up.

She didn’t mention the danger again.  She knew that Ronon was aware of it, but perhaps he didn’t truly understand the depth of the situation? 

No, that wasn’t true.  Ronon knew.

The Satedan wouldn’t stop his search until the others were found – pain, concussion, kiwanda or explosion wouldn’t stop him.

Her little dream -- finding her friends unharmed and annoyed – grew dimmer.

Visions of the attacking kiwanda filled her mind, and she worried about what would have happened to her friends if they stumbled upon another of the beasts – or if they’d found some other equally horrible fate.  She swallowed down that fear and soldiered onward, keeping her gaze on Ronon, preparing herself to catch him when his strength gave out.

Determinedly, Ronon kept moving, driven.

“We will find them,” Ronon declared, giving Teyla a glance as they walked.

“Yes,” Teyla agreed.

He grimaced and touched his head.  “So,” he led, “how bad is this… explosion thing going to be.”

Teyla bit her lip for a moment.  “I do not know,” she truthfully stated.  “I believe it will be very bad.”

“Doranda bad?”

She lowered her gaze a moment at the mention of that incident.  She knew little of what happened on Doranda itself – her memories of that time were of a different situation.  “No,” she responded.  “It cannot be that destructive.”

“Hmmm,” Ronon responded, oblivious to any thoughts that were unintentionally dredged up for the Athosian.  “Think it’ll blow up the whole planet?”

“I do not believe so.”

They trudged onward.  Ronon grasped hold of doorframes and walls to propel himself.  “Think it’ll take out most of the continent?”

“It is unlikely?”

“What about the Gate?”

To that question, Teyla gazed in the direction of the Ring of the Ancients – hidden in the fog and the hills.  “I am unfamiliar with such explosions, but I believe the ring is far enough away to escape the blast.”

“So, it’s not that bad.”  Ronon hitched up his pants a little as he struggled forward.

“I do believe that the town is at risk,” Teyla went out.  “Much would be destroyed once the fuel reaches the furnace.”

“As long as the Gate’s going to be okay.  We can get out of here.”  At a tavern, Ronon came to a halt.  He gave it a curious look.

“Ronon?” Teyla inquired.

“They came in here,” Dex declared.  “And didn’t come out.”

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“There!” Sheppard shouted, pointing the P90’s light toward a metal door embedded in the rocky wall at one side of the tunnel.  Lobster beasts clicked just behind them. “Get behind that door!”

Gasping McKay reached it, releasing his hold on his hurt arm to try handle on the metal door.  “Probably some sort of equipment room,” he hissed through his teeth.

“I don’t care!” Sheppard shouted, exasperated.  It was a metal door along one side of the tunnel – the entrance to a room, or perhaps another tunnel.  All he cared about at the moment was that it would keep out the lobsters of the apocalypse.

The door squeaked as McKay opened it.  Sheppard faced the nestuccas as the creatures scrambled toward them.  His mouth went dry as he brought the P90 around to smack at them again.

“The light?  Hello?” McKay called irritated.

“Get in there!”

“It would be helpful if you stopped shining that thing everywhere but where …”

“Get the hell out of my way, McKay.”  Sheppard watched them come --

Rodney slipped through the door, pushing it open wide enough for Sheppard.  “Come on!” the physicist shouted, hanging on.

But there was no time for Sheppard.  The lobsters were on him.

The creatures snapped, hurling themselves at their prey.  With a smack, Sheppard used the P90 as a bat, lofting one of the creatures into the ceiling.  The next one met a similar fate.  But there were so damn many of them.  They clawed at his pant legs, pulling themselves upward at an astounding rate, all fired up to consume him.

He was aware of Rodney’s shouting.  He knew that McKay was fighting off the creatures as well.  Heroically, Sheppard pulled at the things, tugging them from his clothing and lobbing them into the walls that surrounded them.  “Shut the damn door!” he shouted from outside the space.

Rodney looked at him, his eyes huge and terrified, and incredibly blue.  He did nothing to shut the door and kept kicking at the creatures.  “Colonel!” he kept shouting.  “Colonel!  You’re NOT going to leave me to fend for my self!”  he declared as he fought with the crustaceans.  “Because I have SERIOUS issues with that.”

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Teyla came along side him, and peered in as well.  It was a simple tavern, like many she had seen in her travels.  It looked… nice.

They pressed their way inside, eager to find any clue.  They were close!  Surely, the answer to their quest was at hand and they would find Sheppard and McKay.  Whether they were alive or dead was another question altogether.

Teyla looked around the room, trying to figure out where to start her search.  She watched Ronon move off to nose around some of the chairs, looking for something.  She moved toward a table, looking for any trace – and for a moment they searched.

And then, it happened.

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Nestuccas were everywhere -- leaping from the floor, striking him in the chest and shoulders.  Sheppard spun, trying desperately to free himself, and to slam the door shut to get McKay clear of the things.  But the creatures were on his back, clinging at his neck.  Their disgusting tails slapped at his face and claws clenched at things that should never be clenched in that fashion.  And McKay was still shouting.

There were worse ways to die – but he couldn’t think of any at that moment.

Oh God, this sucked!  One of the damn things was trying to force its way down his shirt.  Another had grabbed hold of his neck.  More were wrapping around his arms and legs.

He didn’t want to die… not today, not tomorrow, not any day soon – and sure as hell, he didn’t want to die under a wave of lobsters.

His hands kept grabbing, wrenching the creatures loose, slamming them into the walls, punting them across the room, smashing them to the floor – but they kept coming… up his neck, slithering around his head, determined to suffocate him with their clickity-clackity bodies.

Oh God!

And then, suddenly, mysteriously, the nestuccas let go.  They just dropped.  Sheppard staggered a moment in surprise as the things let loose and scurried like crazy.  Finding his bearings, Sheppard made use of the opportunity.  He slammed the butt of the P90 around like a broom, sweeping the seemingly stunned creatures hither-and-yon as he cleared a path.

He didn’t know why they let go, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  He grabbed hold of the open door and…

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Without warning, the walls flew at Teyla, rushing with an ear-shattering KABOOM.  The sound hit her like a wave.   Surreally, tables and chairs leapt from the floor.  Lanterns and heavy mugs heaved through the air.  She shrieked at the shock, her voice swallowed up in the tremendous cacophony.

She looked for Ronon, but couldn’t find him as the whole room jumped and was torn to pieces before her eyes.  She dove for whatever cover she could find as the world exploded around her.

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Sheppard looked up as a glow emanated from the tunnel.  For a moment, his eyes widened at the sight, curious.  Then the heat came at him as the wall of fire filled the tunnel.

“Crap…” he hissed as, without thinking, he shoved his way past the door, knocking McKay backward in the process, thrusting him further into the room as he slammed the door shut behind him.

Things had definitely gotten worse – much worse.

He jerked back his hand as the secured metal door turned scorching hot in an instant as tunnel outside the door filled with fire. Heat engulfed them as he went down.

CHAPTER 12:  HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A TUNNEL FIRE

McKay was already on the floor, and the colonel fell on top of him as the wave of heat rolled over them and their world was filled with a horrific rushing roaring noise.

Sheppard dropped the P90 as he went down, and its light went out.

In the blackness, John kept as low as he could, feeling the heat at his back, feeling incredible warmth roll off the metal door.  The air felt crisp.  He expected the room to illuminate by the glow of the fire, but the space remained dark, the door sealed tightly behind them.

Thank God… thank God!  Sheppard thought.  It was a fire door!  Probably designed for such a thing, as if the Netarters had suspected that a tunnel fire might have been in their future.  Good… good… good for them.

What the hell had happened?

He crouched lower, pressing McKay downward as he sought the cooler air at the floor, hoping that the door didn’t melt, that the fire didn’t suck out all their oxygen, that the flames didn’t get in around the door, that they wouldn’t be cooked in this Dutch Oven.

Beneath him, in the darkness, Rodney gasped like a fish.

“Calm down!” Sheppard ordered, his head just above Rodney’s ear.  He squeezed his eyes shut as if he feared his eyeballs would be fried in the heat otherwise.  “Damn it, McKay!  You’re using up all our oxygen!”  He shoved his weight against the man to keep them both down.

McKay made a pathetic cry, and weakly tried to fight him off.

The heat was incredible – the sound was unbelievable – a consuming whoosh.  And Sheppard swore he could hear the screams of a million lobsters as they flash fried.

And then the strange rushing noise faded.  Sheppard didn’t move, listening in the hot hot room as sweat ran down his face and Rodney continued to gasp.  Heat made the door pop and groan strangely.

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Everything came down on them.  Teyla covered her head and pressed into the space under the toppled table.  Splintered bits of wood fell like hail -- glass shards, planks, broken furniture.  She tried to make herself smaller as she was pummeled by flying bits of tavern.

The air was hot – painfully hot.  Her nostrils filled with smoke. Her mouth felt filled with ashes.  She choked and coughed on it.  She couldn’t breathe.  Her ears rang.

She felt as if she’d been tossed in a maelstrom, physically shoved downward by the noise.

And in a matter of seconds, it was over.  The painful heat moved on and she heard her own breathing.  Things still clattered and crunched around her and she kept herself small in her space.

And then, everything quieted.

Quickly, she categorized her latest hurts.  Nothing broken but, undoubtedly, she was going to be a lot more sore.

“Ronon!” she called as the last fragments fell, clattering around her.  “Ronon!”  Her heart raced and her voice sounded muffled.

She thought she heard a growl.  Quickly, she forced her way out of her hiding space.  Boards and bits of wallpaper and cloth fell away.  She blinked at the unexpected brightness around her.  Her legs protested as she stood to climb out of the hole.  Wood clattered as she found her way through the ruins.

She drew in a deep breath to fortify her against the aches.

The tavern’s roof was gone, leaving a pile of debris up to her knees.  Smoke rose up at the back of the room.  The air was filled with the smell of burn and destruction.  The nice little tavern was torn apart.  The change was astonishing.

“Ronon?” she called again, frowning at the way her voice sounded.  She scanned the area, looking for him, and when a pile of broken wood slats moved, she stepped immediately toward it.

She was there as quickly as she could negotiate the unsteady terrain, her muscles protesting against their latest beating.  Streaks of blood ran down her arms where glass and sharp shards of wood and cut at her.  Her hair fell into her eyes and she brushed it away in annoyance.

She shifted the debris, quickly uncovering the stunned man, who’d found cover beneath a couple of chairs.  He’d been saved from the worst of the explosion, but the new mottling of scrapes and cuts proved that he had not come out unscathed.

“Ronon?” she called once more, raising her voice so that she could hear it.  “Are you all right?”

He growled again, pushing away the last bits of wreckage that impeded him.  He looked frustrated as hell.  “What …?” he started, and then met Teyla’s eye.  They stared at each other for a moment, their gazes calculating injuries, surmising how hurt the other might be.

His eyes still had a slightly unfocused quality to them, but Teyla could see no great injuries lurking there – just added misery.

After a moment’s regard, Ronon gave a tight nod, apparently satisfied that Teyla wasn’t too badly hurt.  “That was the fuel place that blew up, wasn’t it?” he stated, his voice sounding muffled, and his look of annoyance increased as he heard his own voice.  He pressed a hand to one ear and then another.

Teyla struggled to hear him through the ringing in her ears, then turned to gaze across the broken tavern through a massive hole in one wall, and looked toward the waterfront.  The fog was gone, burned away in the heat, and the buildings surrounding them had been flattened.  Burning brightly at the edge of the harbor, the distillery sent smoke and fire into the air.  Yes, that was definitely the cause of this.

She returned her gaze to Ronon and nodded.

Ronon grimaced as he tossed boards until he was able get clear of them.   He made it to his feet unsteadily to gaze out at what remained of the tavern.  “Damn,” he muttered, then stepped so that he could see the destroyed town through the gaps in the broken walls.

Smoke was filling the air to replace the fog.

“This isn’t good,” Ronon surmised and frowned again.  “Your ears ringing, too?”

Teyla nodded again, and turned away to glance about at the destruction with a haunted expression.  She wrapped her arms around her chest as she watched the smoke move like a living thing.

“We didn’t find them in time,” she said, too softly for Ronon to hear.

She felt cold, after that scotching heat, realizing how desperate the situation was – the unlikely possibility of her friends’ survival.  She blinked, not wanting to give into the idea that Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay had died in the explosion.   It was just too awful to consider.

If she’d only found a means to stop the fuel from leaking, if she only had been able to turn off the furnace, if she’d been able to find them in time…

She’d failed them.  She’d hopelessly failed them.

Unable to look out at the destruction any longer, she bowed her head.

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Sheppard waited.

It was quiet.

He panted, listening still, willing himself to believe that the worst was over – the heat had passed on.

Rodney continued to pant, finally getting out, “My arm… get off… my arm…”

John shot upright, and fumbled about for his weapon in the darkness.  He found it quickly and turned on the light, swearing at the sight that met him.

Rodney was pale as a sheet, shuddering and staring out of half-lidded eyes, breathing harshly through clenched teeth.  A sheen of sweat covered his forehead.  He’d fallen on his side following Sheppard’s shove, and had landed on his bad arm.  Sheppard, leaning on top of him, had only made the matters worse.  Crap…

Rodney looked ready to pass out, his arm twisted awkwardly beside him.  He made vain attempts to protect it with his other arm, managing to do little more than curl around it.

“Hang on, Rodney,” Sheppard said as he carefully rolled McKay onto his back, maneuvering the hurt arm.  Rodney seemed unable to foster any movement at all, he just panted as Sheppard put him in place.

“Okay?” Sheppard asked.  “That better?”

“Loads,” McKay hissed through his teeth.  “Oh, God, that hurts.  Oh God… hurts.”

Sheppard let out a sigh as he truly assessed his friend.  Rodney really wasn’t looking good, too pale, shaking, coming close to hyperventilating.  “You got to calm down, Rodney,” Sheppard said, his voice strained.

“Good plan.  Yeah.  Good plan,” McKay returned, his breathing still coming in gasps, but Sheppard noted that the scientist did make an effort to slow it down.  Rodney grimaced as he turned his head against the hard floor and said, “Ow.  This isn’t helping my headache any!  Cement doesn’t make a good pillow.”

Sheppard quickly pulled off his jacket and balled it up. “Hang tight,” John told him, lifting Rodney’s head so that he could get the jacket under it.  It was far too hot to wear the jacket anyway.  He grimaced as McKay hissed, and he felt the lump that rose under Rodney’s hair.  He settled the head in the makeshift pillow.  “Better?”

McKay’s eyes finally met Sheppard as he snapped, “I like my memory foam pillow better.  And, I think one of your buttons or a medal or something on your jacket is digging into my neck.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” John stated, rather pleased to hear the bite in McKay’s comment.

He watched, as McKay seemed to calm himself a bit, his breathing slowing – but the scientist still looked as wretched as hell.

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Ronon kept shifting about, shoving wood out of the way.  Blood ran down his arms, detailing his new wounds.  Impressive bruises had been added to those made by the kiwanda.  He moved further into the ruins of the decapitated tavern.

Teyla watched him, sensing a deliberateness in his movements, a determination.  “Ronon,” she called, her voice loud.

Ronon paused, cocking his head to listen.

“You should rest,” she said.  “You are hurt.”

When she finished, he frowned.  “Haven’t found them yet.”

“The explosion was…” Teyla started, letting her voice trail off.  She swallowed.  “It is too late,” she said softly, knowing that Ronon wouldn’t hear her.  “We were too late.”

He didn’t need to hear the words.  “They came in here and they didn’t come out,” Ronon stated.  “Figure they’re still here.”  And the Satedan kept looking.  He stared at her a moment too long, as if he wanted to make sure his statement penetrated through the awful ringing.

The Athosian nodded, letting him know she’d heard the message.  Ronon kept moving, kept searching.

Teyla glanced about the ruined room, knowing that there was no hope.  But she couldn’t give up on them.  She wouldn’t leave this place without Sheppard and McKay.   They would not be left behind.

She stepped forward and started to search as well, moving through the air that was still crisp and dry from the fire.

Around them, the smoke billowed as the fuel was used up.

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“It’s getting cooler,” Sheppard commented.

“It’s hot.  You could fry an egg…” McKay paused and blinked a moment, “Of course, not literally, but people try it all the time on hot days… mostly weathercasters… in the States… idiots…”

“Yeah, but its getting better,” Sheppard returned, tipping the canteen so that Rodney could have some water.  He helped him hold up his head and let the man have all he wanted.

“What happened?” Rodney asked after a couple swallows.

“A wall of fire,” Sheppard answered.  “Just came ripping down the tunnel.  It would’ve looked real cool if it was a movie or something.  Not so much fun to see it heading right at me.”  He considered the situation a moment before saying, “What the hell could have done that?”

“The fuel,” McKay surmised, his voice sounding thick.  His eyes searched as he considered something, then the gaze found Sheppard.  “Ronon and Teyla!” he whispered.

Sheppard's expression fell, as he realized he’d sent the two toward their deaths.  His last command to them was to check out that building.  Disturbed, he turned away from Rodney, and stared at the metal door.  Painfully, he got to his feet.  Damn, now with the wretched butt bone injury, he had to deal with a couple dozen pinches left by the lobsters.

He touched the door – still damn hot.  “Can’t go after them yet,” he commented.

“The fire,” McKay started, pausing to take another breath.  “The fire is probably gone.  Nothing to burn in here – aside from the… the lobsters.  Fuel must have leaked into the tunnel, caught fire.”  His usual rapid-fire speech was slow and labored.  “Fire went through here like a … wildfire… mostly on fumes.  I’m betting… it’ll be safe enough to go out once things cool off a bit.”

“Hmmm, well, that’s good news,” Sheppard declared.

“Should go.”

“Yeah,” Sheppard frowned as he examined the door, wondering where the doorknob was so that they could get out.

“Need to find the others.”

“Working on it.” Sheppard barked.  “I don’t want any new troubles, McKay.   We’re in deep enough.  You going to tell me how we’re getting through this door with no handle?”  He gave it a shove, irritated.  “First, we can’t get any door to shut behind us, and then this one shuts tight.”  And for emphasis, he gave it a kick.

OW!  OW!  That didn’t help the butt any.  Dammnit!

Irritated as hell, Sheppard went on, “Oh sure, it was nice to have a door lock behind you when there’s a fire outside.  But will it open when we want it to?”

McKay didn’t respond, which wasn’t like him.  Sheppard turned back toward the scientist when Rodney gasped again. 

“Damn it, McKay,” he uttered, finding McKay attempting to press himself upright with his one good hand.  Quickly, he returned to the man’s side.  “Stop trying to get up.”  He gave him a shove back down, and struggled to a squatting position beside him.

“We need to…”

“You need to keep still,” Sheppard still carried McKay’s pack on his back, so he unslung it and shoved it under Rodney’s feet, hoping it might help keep him from going into shock, and maybe forestall any further attempts at getting upright.

“You’ll crush my gear,” McKay complained softly as he saw the pack being used as a footrest.

“You’ll be doing the crushing, so that’ll give you incentive to keep still,” Sheppard told him.  He watched Rodney for a moment, noting the strange position of his hurt arm.

“Okay, now that we got a moment, I should take care of this other problem,” Sheppard stated and he pulled his knife from his belt.  With a quick movement, he grasped hold of Rodney’s wrist.

McKay’s eyes shot open wide and he seemed to gain back some energy with his panic.  “You’re not going to cut my arm off?” he squeaked, and made a pitiable attempt to free his arm.  “It’s a little early for amputation, don’t you think?  I mean, I need my hands!  Please…”

Sheppard rolled his eyes.  “What the hell are you thinking?  Jeez, McKay, I’m just going to cut the sleeve so I can see your arm.  Hold still.”

“Okay.  Sleeve.  Gotcha.  Check.”  And Rodney stopped his movements, seeming to melt a little.  He watched John with huge eyes.

“Amputation?  Would you just think for a moment?” Sheppard groused, more annoyed with himself for not explaining what he was doing.  McKay was obviously out of it.   Damn… damn…

“Think…yeah…” McKay said dully.  “Good plan.”

Carefully Sheppard cut through the material of McKay’s jacket and sleeves.   He paused to feel for a pulse, and was glad to find one, still the skin felt a little cool for the heat in the room.

“Just keep still and maybe you’ll get a lollypop when I’m done,” Sheppard cajoled.  “And don’t start screamin’ like a little girl.  I don’t think I could handle that. I’d have to tell Ronon, and you know how he’d be about that.  Then I’d have to tell Zelenka, and he’d never let you live it down.”

He kept up the dialogue even as McKay said nothing.  The physicist just stared at one of the walls, blinking slowly and holding his jaw tight as Sheppard cut his way up the sleeve.

“Teyla would probably be okay with it.  I mean, she’s a woman and all.  You know – she tends to be a bit more empathetic.  But I don’t think she’s the screamy type. Caldwell wouldn’t be surprised, so no big deal if he found out.”

Sheppard sucked a breath through his teeth as he pulled the fabric back from McKay’s upper arm, finding it grossly swollen.  Damn… Damn…Damn…

McKay gulped down a breath and stared at the wall.  “How…?” he finally said.  “How is it?”

“I think you broke something in your upper arm,” Sheppard stated, keeping his voice even.  “You’ll probably end up in one hell of a cast.”

Another gulp and McKay turned his head away.  “Anything sticking out?  You know… a bone or something.  Compound fractures…” gulp, “…Can be very dangerous.”  His voice sounded weak…fading.

“Nothing sticking out,” Sheppard assured.  “Too bad.  You won’t have a scar.  Girls love scars, you know.”

“Yeah… well…”  McKay’s voice seemed to drift. His eyes were becoming unfocussed.  “I’ll just have to…” he trailed off.

“I’ll have to see if Carson still has any of that pink cast material,” Sheppard told him.  “You’ll be a big hit in the lab.”

“Pink?”  Life returned to those blue eyes.  “Are you kidding me?”

“The girls will love you if you go with pink.  Not as good as a scar… but…  Pink is the new black.”

“On what planet?  You’re not getting me in pink.”

“Miko will love it.”

“Miko?  No… no pink casts!  What are you thinking?”

Yeah, what was he thinking?  Why didn’t McKay say anything?  They should have worked out some sort of sling from the start.  Stupid son of a bitch!  Lugging around a broken arm like it was a loaf of bread.

Sheppard could only condemn himself.  This really sucked.  Dammit!  He’d hoped that it wasn’t bad, but he should have taken a second or two to check things out – even though they had the lobsters from hell on their ass..

And a minute ago, Sheppard had been putting all his weight on it.  Damn… damn… damn… damn.  “Maybe Beckett has that new cast material that has flowers and kitties already printed on it, with phrases like ‘I heart my cat’ and other things about always being nice to others.”

“Bite me.  There’s no such thing!” McKay shot back.

“Bet he gives you one of those big casts that props your arm way up past your chin.  You’ll have pink kitties from your shoulder to your wrist while you make one of those Hitler salutes.  Meanwhile, You’ll have to stare at the phrase ‘Smile, someone loves you’ for two months.  You’ll love it.”

McKay looked like he was going to cry at the proposition.  “No!” he moaned.  “How would I be able to get any work done that way?”

“We’ll get you set up with a pencil.  You can poke keys using your mouth.”

“I still got one good hand!” McKay responded, showing it off for emphasis.

“Well, better make good use of it then.”  Sheppard maneuvered the hurt arm into a position that he hoped was more comfortable, and then did what he could to figure out if the bone was straight.  Rodney’s gasping increased.  Sorry for causing further pain, he stated as he checked the pulse in the arm again, “Keep it like that for a while.  Move it, or try to get up again, and I’ll cut it right off.”

Sheppard looked about the room since McKay didn’t say anything immediately.  It was a relatively small space, about as big as a small bedroom, and he hoped McKay didn’t realize that fact soon.

The colonel went on, “I think we’re safe from the Lobsters of Doom.  The survivors probably skedaddled.”

“We’re not going to get through that door,” McKay said morosely, softly.

“And why not?”

“No handle, no doorknob…”

“So, you’re the smart one.  You’ll make something.”

“We’re not meant to,” McKay closed his eyes and took in another deep breath.  “Have you gotten a look at the walls?” he asked, his voice growing quieter.  “Do you know where we are?”

Sheppard lifted the P90 and shone the light onto the walls.  He frowned, not sure immediately what he was looking at.  Then he let out a long disgusted breath.

Manacles.

There were chains on the walls, chains and manacles.  He flitted the light about, taking in the whole space as, with a groan, he realized exactly what they’d locked themselves into.

A jail cell – a holding pen – a prison.

“Great,” Sheppard grumbled.  “So how do we get out of this one?”

He sighed when he didn’t receive a response.  Somewhat reluctantly, he looked down to his companion.  Rodney’s eyes were closed, his face slack.

With a groan, Sheppard attempted to sit down beside Rodney, quickly discovering it was a bad idea.  Irritated, he scrabbled back up to a squatting position, and pressed a hand to Rodney’s forehead, then moved to feel for a pulse in his bad arm again – ensuring that blood was still flowing – wanting to make up for not checking sooner.  The scientist didn’t respond to the touch.

There was no sense trying to go anywhere at that moment.  Sheppard remained in that position, sitting delicately on his heels, waiting for his friend to awaken, trying to figure out what their next move might be.

If Teyla and Ronon were gone… how long would they have to wait for Atlantis to send rescue?  Would they even be found in this tunnel that blocked signals?  Sheppard sighed, not wanting to consider that yet.

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Keeping her arms tightly wrapped around her.  Teyla realized what must have happened if McKay and Sheppard were in the building with them.  Nothing remained outside of the blasted out room.

They searched through the refuse, finding nothing.  Ronon kept moving boards.  He’d started work on in the smoky back section of the structure.

He paused, then flung aside one board before grasping something.  He handed it to Teyla – McKay’s Life Sign Detector.

The sight of it made Teyla’s hopes sink only further.  The disarray, the destruction, the horrible wreckage showed no sign of living things.  Dr. McKay would not have left the device behind.  If it were here, then he was most certainly dead.  She frowned as she regarded the dim device.

Lifting her gaze, she watched as Ronon continued, searching with even more gusto than before, even as he fought to catch his balance.

“Ronon,” Teyla called as she slipped the device into her pocket.  “Ronon,” she repeated, louder, knowing that it would take some effort to be heard.  She reached a hand toward him to stop his movements.  “They are …”

“Down here.”  Ronon stopped his floundering as he removed a large board, exposing a pit.   Smoke and soot trailed from the space.

Teyla joined him and gazed down into the blackened hole.  Although Ronon smiled at his discovery, Teyla felt none of his victory as the smell of burning and death met her nostrils.

CHAPTER 13:  COPACABANA

Sheppard sat on his haunches in the dark, his back pressed against the wall as he listened.  Realizing that the light from the P90 wouldn’t last forever, he’d opted to save it until McKay was awake again.   It was no good to waste power as he sat around.  The light would be better used when McKay was awake and maybe thinking clearer.  They’d have a chance to form a plan.

Didn’t mean he actually liked sitting in the dark.

Earlier, John had examined the room, finding little that could help.  There were several sets of shackles, welded quite firmly into the wall.  He considered that the metal pieces might be of some use.  Maybe they could figure out a way to remove the metal constraints and use them to pry open the door.   He’d considered shooting the damn things off the wall and start work but it looked not-too-promising, and he’d prefer that McKay offer up that idea so that, if it failed, he could blame the scientist.

The door had sealed tightly, but there were vents of some sort near the ceiling on the opposite wall.  Shining a light into the space revealed only a long shaft that disappeared into darkness.  Air came in to them through this.  He tried the grating over the vents – but the passageway was far too narrow to even attempt a crawling escape.  He checked to ensure that the grates would stay in place if certain pillaging lobsters decided to enter through another corridor.  It looked like they’d be safe from that particular invasion. 

At least they had air.  Fresh and breathing Wraith-feed is so much more tempting to life-suckers than asphyxiated leftovers, Sheppard realized, and he rankled as he came to terms with what the people of Nehalem had done.

They had invited newcomers onto their planet, keeping those that would suit their purpose and had sent the others away.  As he sat in the darkness, feeling miserable with his butt ache and his lobster bites, Sheppard wondered what determined the worthiness that turned some people into Wraith kibble.  He wondered what flaw let the visitors go on their way, thinking that they’d lost their one chance at sanctuary, yet winning the lottery.

And the darkness seemed more dense and unwelcoming as he contemplated.

Nehalems sucked, he decided.  The whole planet sucked – with its stupid fog and its stupid hills and stupid trapdoors and its stupid lobsters of death.

He sighed, and wished that stupid Lorne would show up with a stupid search party and find them in this stupid room in this stupid tunnel.  He hoped that they showed up soon because McKay wasn’t going to get any better with his stupid broken arm.

Hunching his shoulders, Sheppard sighed, thinking of Ronon and Teyla and remembered that wall of fire that had come down the tunnel.  There was little hope for their teammates, but just the same, he had to believe that they were fine.

He let out a slow breath, listening intently for any sound in the hallway beyond the room.  The iron-hot door had cooled and the oppressive heat in the room had finally dissipated.  It left the air tasting strangely metallic.  He listened to Rodney’s breathing, listening to it hitch from time to time.  He’d call out to see of the scientist was waking, but the breathing would deepen, so Sheppard waited.

He whistled a tune, but the echo of the room annoyed him.  Then, with some alarm, he realized that he’d been whistling “Copacabana”.  He’d called out Rodney’s name once to ensure that the scientist was too out of it to pay attention.  McKay didn’t respond, and for once, Sheppard was glad about it.

After another few minutes in the dark, he tried a new tune, and ended up humming “Kung Fu Fighting” but discovered that song was rather pathetic in the dark.

Finally, bored, he turned on the light again.  He figured that he’d better check on McKay’s arm and see if there was anything to be done about it.

Rodney hadn’t moved, he just kept breathing in that uneven manner that spoke of pain.

Sheppard determined to rig up some sort of a sling for the rest of the journey – for certainly they were getting out of this – whether it was with the help of others or by using their own intelligence.  They’d might as well be ready.

Rodney’s jacket and shirtsleeves were already rent, so they were the most likely candidates for the sling.  Picking up his knife again, Sheppard repositioned himself to get at the sleeves easily.

The moment he leaned over McKay and grasped hold of the fabric, Rodney’s breathing came to a sudden halt, followed by a tight and tremulous, “Colonel?”

“What?” Sheppard answered, his grip still on the fabric as he clenched the knife with his other.  McKay looked up at him, startled.

“You’re not making a… tourniquet?”

“Not right now,” Sheppard responded, using the knife to cut loose the sleeves as quickly and as mercifully as possible. “Making a sling.”

Rodney watched.   “Oh, good,” he replied, not sounding terribly enthused.  He blinked lethargically.

“We’ll get you fixed up and then we’ll be able to figure something out.”

McKay said nothing, and watched Sheppard with weary and wary eyes in the sharp light of the P90.  Sheppard worked at getting the hunks of fabric into a usable shape.

“Yeah,” John went on.  “We’ll get your arm all tied up, then you can go through your bag and find something we can use to open up the door.  You have something like that, right?  Some sort of universal remote for opening locked doors?  Sonic screwdriver, maybe?”

“What?” McKay replied softly.   He scrunched up his face for a moment before asking, “You know about Doctor Who?”

“Hey, I’ve watched a few crappy TV shows in my day.”

“Wasn’t crappy.   It has… a certain wit…a great sense of humor ... and charm…”

“Well, the special effects stunk, you got to admit that.”

“That was the charm.”  McKay took a breath, “…and part of the humor.”  He continued in the same dreamy tone.  “Just because it wasn’t up to… Star Trek standards of special effects…” There was sarcasm in his tone.

“Star Trek rocked!  Kirk got all the girls.”

“Yes… but Doctor Who had companions…”

Sheppard snorted at that, and satisfied that he’d figured out how to secure a sling to do the best job of immobilizing the arm, he returned his attention to McKay.  The scientist was staring off toward the door, looking disconcerted – lost.

“Come on,” Sheppard said.  “Let’s get you fixed up.  Then we can start figuring our way out of here.  It’s gotta start getting better now.”

“Can’t think of too many things worse,” McKay muttered.

“I’m sure you could, given a few minutes,” Sheppard prompted.

Rodney was quiet a moment, a perplexed look on his face.

“Do not,” Sheppard ordered, “try to think of ways of making this worse!”

But Rodney looked beyond him, his gaze fixed on the door.  “Do you hear that?”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“Listen!  Something’s out there!”

Sheppard dropped the sling and brought up the weapon, pointing the light at the door.  Oh yes, there was definitely something moving.  “Lobsters?” John asked, hoping his voice didn’t tremble.

“It’s big,” McKay replied, his voice dropping even lower.  “Big, big lobster!”

Sheppard tried not to feel ill at the thought of giant lobsters coming after them.  He could hear the noise, now.  The thud of feet -- the galumph of something big.  Oh God, the nestucca must be huge!  The great grandfather of them all.  The Lobster King!

He remained in place, keeping himself between the door and Rodney, swallowing down his fears as the thudding came closer.  He aimed at the crack in the door, ready to blow the creature into crab cakes if it tried getting through.  He waited, alert, ready…

“Do you think it only has four legs?” McKay whispered.  “Four… definitely four.  Maybe it lost some feet in battle or something…That could be bad, right?  Means it’s been in a fight or two.”

“SHHH!” Sheppard silenced, then paused as he considered this.  Four legs?  He listened again, realizing that the footfalls outside the door sounded nothing like the freak-show lobsters.

He smiled and opened his mouth to speak.

Before he could get a word out, a voice bellowed, “SHEPPARD!” muffled by the door.

Almost at the same time, a softer, yet equally strong voice called out for, “Doctor McKay!”

Letting out a breath of relief, Sheppard answered, “We’re behind the damn door!  Get us out of here!”

The door shuddered, then creaked, and finally was pulled open.  Sheppard couldn’t have been happier to see the faces of his two battered and missing teammates.  He grinned at them, and before they could move too far, stated, "Whatever you do, do NOT close that door behind you.  It locks."

Ronon made a soft sound as if he found Sheppard's comment to be a little to obvious.  “Where’ve you been?” he asked bluntly as he peered into the room, his voice a little too loud.  He held one hand across his chest as he regarded them.

“Oh,” Sheppard responded.  “Around.  You?”

“Yeah, same here.”  Ronon snorted and shook his head.  He looked like hell, battered and filthy, bloodied.  Teyla looked little better, but at least her hair didn’t hang down in wet dreads like Ronon’s did.

Sheppard staggered to his feet to meet them, as Teyla peered in, worriedly, at McKay.  Ronon just stared at the space around his feet, with a curious expression as he asked, “What’s with the nestucca bake?”

CHAPTER 14: ONE JOKE

McKay was uncomfortable, but that was to be expected, considering the break in his arm and the treatment Carson had determined was the best course of action.  The bone had been snapped below the shoulder, just below the ball joint and too high to put in a cast.  So the broken wing had been tightly bound to the scientist’s body, across his chest, and covered with a layer of padding to keep things from getting jarred.

Rodney wore his shirt over the top of the secured limb – the hand was tucked just below the armpit of his other arm.  It made for a bulky profile, an awkward positioning, and left him with just one hand for working.  The location of the broken limb was also troubling due to the one joke that everyone seemed determined to make at his expense.

“Hey, McKay! Nice rack!” Sheppard crowed as moved through the doorway of the lab.

“Great!” McKay replied, cringing as he jabbed away one-handedly at his laptop.  He didn’t lift his head to see the smirk that he KNEW would meet him.  “That was a unique and creative statement.  Oh, it looks like I have breasts.  How clever of you. Gee, it must have taken you all day to think that one up.”

“Nope!  Just came to me. Things come to me like that.”  John grinned, looking damned pleased with himself.  “It was either that or I was going to ask you if your bazooms worked as a floatation device.  You might want to take up water aerobics… synchronized swimming maybe?”

McKay finally looked up at him, thoroughly ticked off, which only made John look more delighted with himself.  “That makes no sense!” the Canadian declared.  “It’s just my arm!”

“Yeah, but it was funny.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“Made Weir laugh when I told it to her.”

Incredulous, McKay gaped for a moment.

“I like to make her laugh,” John continued.  “Gets me on her good side.”

McKay’s mouth slammed shut.   “Good for you.  You must be proud of yourself.”

“I am.” 

McKay grumbled and looked back to his laptop display.

“Think of the advantages, McKay.”

“Advantages?  What possible advantages do I have at this moment?”

“Handy drink tray,” Sheppard responded. “You could keep a whole pot of coffee up there and a bunch of mugs.  You could serve in the mess.”

McKay grumbled.

“How you feeling?” Sheppard asked as he made his way across the lab.  “It’s not making you lightheaded or anything, is it?”

“Lightheaded?”

“Or maybe I meant airheaded.”

“You’re an ass, do you know that?”

“Yup.”  John pulled the chair around, making a racket as he dragged it across the floor.  He sat down without requesting permission.

Rodney felt some small victory when the colonel winced when he sat.  “I was going to make a crack about your current predicament,” McKay said with a thin smile, “But…I ass-ume you’ve heard it all already.”

Gracing Rodney with a narrow gaze, Sheppard went on, “So, while we’re on the subject of brains, did Carson figure out whether any of your genius leaked out after your concussion.”

“His tests proved that all was well.”  Rodney tapped the side of his head with his good hand.  “It takes a lot more than a drop through the floor, a blow to the head, lobster attack, near amputation, incarceration, incineration and atrociously poor jokes to silence this vast intelligence.”

“I bet.”

“Still, that doesn’t mean my headache has gone away.”  McKay furrowed his brow to ensure that he still had a little bit left.  The painkillers for his arm were probably masking the headache that was hiding somewhere. “Beckett has no idea.  I’m sure the pain will remain for weeks.”

“Yeah, probably,” Sheppard replied.  “There’s pain for someone, that’s for sure.”

“And for some reason, I have ‘Copacabana’ running through my head.  I can’t get rid of it.”

“Brain damage,” Sheppard said offhand.

Rodney gave him another scowl.  “Yeah, great!  It’s either that or ‘Kung Fu Fighting’.  Why can’t I get them out of my head?”

Sheppard shrugged, and put on an expression that was too innocent to be taken seriously.

McKay didn’t trust him.  “And my arm is killing me.  Every time I twist like this…” McKay started, but was stopped when Sheppard held up a hand.

“Good girls wouldn’t twist like that,” he stated, giving McKay a superior look, and he grinned when McKay looked up again with a frown.  “What’re you working on?” he asked to redirect the conversation.

McKay made a sound as if he wanted to continue pursuing the previous conversation, but thought better of it.  Pointing a finger at the screen, McKay stated, “Research.  I’m trying to discover more information about Nehalems and that planet Netarts.  I want to understand what happened there.  I mean, it’s creepy what they did with their visitors.”

“Yeah,” Sheppard agreed, hating the whole idea of it.  “Didn’t exactly roll out the red carpet.”

“Do you think the Wraith finally got fed up with the regular fare at their ‘take out’ window, and wanted to Supersize?”

“Kinda seems that way.”

“Maybe they wanted the whole smorgasbord to themselves.  They wanted to fill their plates and come back for seconds,” Rodney stated, and then made a face as if even HE was a bit put-off by the analogy.

Sheppard took it in stride.  “Teyla and Ronon went offworld to talk to some of the Athosians’ trading partners,” Sheppard decided.  “The kids should be home by now.”  He radioed the controlroom to see if Teyla and Ronon had returned from their field trip.

The Canadian tech let him know that the two had returned only moments ago and that he’d ask them to head toward McKay’s lab.

“Someone let them go offworld?” McKay asked as Sheppard completed his conversation.

“They were just going to talk and didn’t have any serious injuries,” Sheppard responded.  “Bruises mostly.”

“And pulled muscles, some serious cuts, some nasty looking scrapes, Teyla’s back was a mess and let’s not forget Ronon’s concussion.  What were they thinking?  They got pummeled by a giant alligator and then got blown up real good,” McKay shook his head.  “Now is the time for them to relax and take advantage of the ‘down time’.  Find a nice couch.  Stretch out.  Get some sun.”

“Yeah, right,” Sheppard stated, watching McKay peck away at his computer as he sat on a stool in the lab, searching for information.

McKay went on, “And they were suffering from other seriously annoying malady when I last saw them.  They might have considerable hearing loss.  Might suffer from it for years.”

“What?”

“Hearing loss.  They were deafened by the blast.”

“What?”

McKay opened his mouth to continue, but thought better of it and gave Sheppard a disappointed look.

Sheppard grinned and pointed to his ears.  “Carson said that it’s clearing up.  With any luck their hearing will get back to normal.”

“Oh,” McKay responded.

The reaction brought a curious expression from Sheppard.  “You almost sound disappointed.”

“Well…” McKay looked conflicted, glancing toward the door surreptitiously before he said, “Sometimes, I think they hear too much.  I mean, really, both of them have senses that borders on weird.  Does anyone need to hear that much?  They’re always listening in.”

“Listening in to what?”

“To me… to what I have to say.”

“You told me earlier that you want people to listen to you.”

“Yeah, but that’s only when I’m talking directly to them.  They listen in when I don’t mean them to hear me.”

“Why would they care?  I don’t listen to you most of the time.”

McKay looked stung.  “Of course they should care about what I have to say.  I have plenty to say that’s worthwhile.  If people listened to me more often, there’d be a lot less trouble – that’s all I’m going to say.”  John didn’t even bother to believe that McKay would stop here.  “And you know, you really should listen to me more often.  That’s your problem.”  He pressed a finger to his chin to attempt some sort of scholarly look, but the affect was totally ruined by his bust-line.  “You should always listen to me.”

“Wait a minute,” Sheppard broke in.  “I thought you were annoyed that Ronon and Teyla listened.  Now you’re saying that…”

“What I’m saying is that they listen in when they shouldn’t be listening.  They pay attention when they shouldn’t be.”

“And when is this?”

“You know… when we’re talking about things that don’t pertain to them.”

“And this would be when?”

Exasperated, McKay groaned, “You know, when I want to point out something and maybe I don’t want Teyla to hear it because of how she might react.”

“Like when?”

“She gets this really… offended… look sometimes.”

“For instance?”

McKay sighed, sounding thoroughly putout.  “Like when we were introduced to that Queen or Empress or Priestess Sparklebottom.”

Sheppard grinned from ear to ear.  “Ah yes, the Lady Siuslaw.  You have something in common with her now.”  And his eyes achieved a faraway look as he recalled the luscious young woman with the tiny sparkly skirt.

With a contented sigh, McKay stated, raising his one good hand to illustrate, “She had the most incredible …”

“Great boobs, McKay,” Ronon stated as he appeared at the doorway of the lab.  He grinned widely when he saw Rodney’s surprised look.  “Heh… that’s one booby trap I don’t want to mess with.”

Teyla laughed lightly, adding as she focused on the placement of McKay’s broken arm, “My people would be proud to be so endowed.”

With a broad grin, Sheppard put in, “I hear that Dolly Parton is going to let him borrow her wig.”

The last remark brought curious expressions from the other two, and an explosion from McKay.  “Enough!  Enough!  Kavanagh’s already asked me if I’m taking hormones.  Zelenka won’t stop laughing.  He almost couldn’t breathe last time I came across him.  Seriously.  Couldn’t breathe!  The man might have died.  Kept laughing.  No good reason.  I certainly wasn’t going to give him mouth-to-mouth!  Cadman left a dress in my quarters.  Sgt. Wilmington wants to meet my sister!  I swear, Halling saw me from a distance and started giving me the ‘eye’.  For the love of God, get that man some glasses!”

Rodney was on a roll, and went on, “I don’t think I can take this much longer!  I have a broken arm!  It hurts!   But do I get any compassion?  NO!”

“Try living with a butt injury,” Sheppard muttered.

McKay didn’t care.  “Do you have any idea how irritating it is to hear the same joke over and over again?  I think I’ve heard every variation of ‘knockers’ and ‘hooters’ known to man!”

“Kadoodles?” Ronon tried. 

“My people sometimes call them Wantoobers,” Teyla added with a little laughter. 

“Bazookas?” Sheppard added.

Ronon opened his mouth to add another example, but was cut off by a strangling sound from McKay, so the Satedan laughed instead.

Sheppard smiled and decided to ignore the flustered physicist for a moment.  “Hey, Teyla, Ronon, glad to see you’re up and about and causing some trouble,” he told them.  “Last time I saw you, Beckett had both of you locked down.”

Ronon grunted.  “Couldn’t keep us for long,” he commented.  “I just had a knock on the head.  Some scratches.”

“A few bruises,” Teyla added, “Our hearing seems to have improved.”  She gave McKay a knowing glance.  “We are reasonably well.”  She turned to Ronon, knowing that the man was still suffering.  She’d been in the infirmary when Beckett had stripped him down.  She would have averted her eyes, but Ronon didn’t seem to mind.  She changed her glance again, to take in John, stating, “Colonel Sheppard, I hear that your ‘infirmity’ was less than expected?”

Sheppard frowned, feeling betrayed. “Like I was sayin’…”

“What?” McKay responded.  “Beckett couldn’t put a cast on your broken ass or something?”

Sighing, Sheppard explained, “The bone isn’t broken.”  He waved a hand to dismiss the thought.  “He said that I must have just bruised or sprained something.”

“Oh,” McKay replied, looking smug in spite of his breast-like protuberance.  “Just bruised.  Poor thing.”

“Still hurts like hell!” Sheppard told him.  “I can’t sit down easy.”

“Can’t sit down,” McKay echoed, looking toward Teyla and Ronon as if to find some sympathy for their comrade.  The three of them were too battered and broken to muster any of that particular emotion.

“I also have heard that one of the colonel’s lobster bites became infected,” Teyla added helpfully.  “A small one on his lower leg.”

“Too bad,” Ronon responded, brushing at one of the healing slices that ran from his elbow to his wrist.

 Sheppard wanted to smack all of them.  “It’s sore!  So’s my butt.  I’m on antibiotics. ”

Rodney raised his one operable hand.  “I got bitten too!” he proclaimed.  “But I had the common sense to receive ample a coating of Neosporin.  I made Carson do it twice.”

Narrowing his gaze, Sheppard replied, “I had a lot more bites than you.”

After a soft cough, Teyla stated, “They were rather… small bites.”

“Yeah,” Ronon confirmed.  “Nestuccas got tiny little mouths.”

“That are just FULL of bacteria!  They're garbage eaters, you know.” Rodney smiled smugly, and turned to Sheppard.  “Now, if you’d just thought to dab a little Neosporin…”

“I got bit… a lot,” Sheppard ground out.  “You want to make anything of it?”

“No,” Teyla and Ronon both answered.

McKay smiled far too widely, so Sheppard cut him off before he could say more.  “Teyla, you’ve got some news?”

The Athosian nodded.  “I spoke to some of our allies on Tolovana and, at first, they had little to reveal about the planet Netarts.”

“So what changed that?” Sheppard asked.

“Yeah,” McKay added.  “Did Ronon have to lean on them or something?”

“Nope,” Ronon responded, and nodded to Teyla.  “Got on their good side by making a bargain with them.”  And Ronon gave Teyla a meaningful glace as he touched the hilt of his new sword.

“The price was rather high,” Teyla stated, but smiled to herself, recalling that she'd surreptitiously bartered away one of Ronon's knifes in the bargain.

Ronon went on,  “After we finished that, we told them about what had been found in Nehalem – the tunnels, the holding pen.  Told them our conclusions.”

“Oh, and they spilled the beans?” Rodney asked.

“There were no beans served…” Teyla tried to respond.

Ronon continued with, “We told them that we figured that the Nehalems captured newcomers and served them up to keep the Wraith off their backs.   The Tolovanians seemed to know it already.”

“And they let this happen?” Sheppard asked, incredulously.

Teyla shook her head vehemently.  “They did not LET it happen.  They found out,” she stated, her voice taking on a deadly seriousness.

“And…” Sheppard led on.

Any merriment that had filled the Athosian was gone.  The Satedan looked morose as well.

“The sea,” Teyla explained, “Can be unforgiving.  There was a price that needed to be levied against the Nehalems.”

“They… they…” Rodney sputtered in disbelief.  “These Tollovakians…

“Tolovanians,” Teyla corrected.

“Whatever!  These friends of yours drowned everyone in Nehalem?”

Sheppard’s head came up abruptly at this accusation. He glanced to Teyla and Ronon, waiting for them to deny McKay’s suppositions.  No refutation came.

McKay went on, “There were two other towns!  They killed everyone in those towns, too?  Everyone?  There must have been a thousand people or more.”  He sat up, looking a little pained at the change in position.  “There were probably just a few people involved with this Wraith thing.  These Tolovanas went in there, grabbed every man, woman and child, and dumped everyone into the sea?  Did your friends honestly think they were any better than the folks who were keeping the Wraith well fed?”

Teyla remained poised, keeping her voice even.  “It was not like that,” she responded, and then added, “Not as bad as that.”

“They took the Nehalems that were involved,” Ronon explained.  “Tied ‘em up, took ‘em out in a ship and let the sea have them.”

“The rest were allowed to live,” Teyla continued.

“They didn’t kill the kids,” Ronon added quickly.  “They only dumped the Wraith sympathizers.”

“How did they know?” McKay demanded to know.  “How did the ...Tolovanios know who deserved to die?”

Ronon shrugged.  “Guess a couple of the prisoners escaped from the cells. Got back to Tolovana.  They knew who to point out.”  He had a resigned look as he said, “Seems that the Nehalems kept people that no one would miss – people without family, without friends.  I guess they were smart.  Realized that if they sacrificed those sorts, no one would complain.  No one would notice.  There's lots of folks out there with no connections.”

Still not appreciating the situation, McKay went on, “Okay, so your friends came in and dumped a bunch of Nehalems into the sea.  I got that.  Fine.  I guess they deserved it.  Where did the rest of the people go – the ‘innocent’ people who didn’t get to drown?   What happened to them?  ‘Cause they certainly weren’t there when we were poking around.”

“They had to leave the planet immediately,” Teyla explained.  “The Wraith were expected to arrive.  And if they did not find prisoners waiting for them, they would have taken what they needed from the rest of the population.”

“If the Wraith got there and didn’t find their usual snack waiting, they’d be pissed off,” Ronon added.  “Their free food was gone. Wraith wouldn’t stop at harvesting just a couple lives. They’d probably end up culling a good part of the planet.”

“But why didn’t we hear about this earlier?” McKay persisted.  “I mean, if these people got spread out all over the place, shouldn’t SOMEONE have known that they weren’t all culled.”

“I figure they kept it quiet,” Sheppard stated, looking to Ronon and Teyla for confirmation.  “I’m betting that none of the folks involved really wanted anyone to know where’d they’d come from, or why they had to leave.”

“When searching for asylum,” Teyla stated, “it is best to keep past ills quiet.”

“Great,” McKay muttered.  “Good to know when we’re always bringing in homeless folks.”

Sheppard shook his head.  “So, the Nehalems who used refugees as chum, got turned into chum, or had to become refugees themselves.”

“It’s a wonderful universe, ain’t it?” McKay stated unhappily.  “Karma sucks.”

“Yeah, I suppose it does,” Sheppard grumbled, remembering how many times he’d told McKay that he was a ‘pain in the ass’.    Yeah, maybe he’d keep from using that phrase for a while.

Why did he have to get the lamest injury?

“They got what was coming to them,” Ronon finalized.  His eyes took on a faraway look and he was silent for a second before he completed with, “I’m hungry.”

Sheppard paused at the non sequitur, not sure what to say.

Teyla turned to Sheppard and watched him carefully.  “I have heard that they shall be serving nestucca today in the mess, since we had such a bounty readily available.”

Ronon sighed happily, while Sheppard looked a little sick at the idea, remembering the hundreds of red roasted nestuccas that had waited outside the metal doorway.

“Is it any good?” McKay asked hopefully.

Sheppard gave him a withering look.  “How can you eat those things?”

“With butter,” McKay tried.  “They look like lobsters.  I like lobster.”

“Oh, you’ll like nestucca,” Ronon confided.  “Especially good with neotsu.”

When McKay looked confused (and by being confused, he was also annoyed), Teyla told him, “I am assured that neotsu is much like the dish you would call ‘corn on the cob’.  And yes, Ronon, they have neotsu in the mess today.”

Ronon gave a sound like a contented lion.

McKay’s mood brightened.  “Great!  Lobster and corn on the cob, what could be better?  I can’t wait to…” his voice trailed off and the annoyed look returned.  He brought up his one good arm and clenched his hand into a fist.  “How am I supposed to eat it with one hand?  My fingers will get all messy and I know I’m going to get bits all over my… chest. And how will I crack the shells?  Oh man, the worst things always happen to me.”

Sheppard shook his head.  “Some people are just made to suffer,” he commented, standing with a grimace, and still looking a little green around the gills at the ideas of confronting the freaky lobsters again.  “Let’s see if we can’t find you a hammer or something.”  The smile returned at the idea of smashing the creatures with a mallet.  “Come on, Mae West.”  He pulled at McKay’s sleeve to get him moving off the lab stool.

McKay grumbled, allowing himself to be tugged at.

“Who is Mae West?” Teyla asked, falling in along side, with Ronon right behind her.

Sheppard explained, “She was a woman with big Wantoobers – an impressive pair of Kadoodles.”

To that, Ronon asked, “Mae West had two broken arms?”

McKay looked toward Sheppard, one eye twitching in an attempt to keep from laughing out loud.  Sheppard just shook his head and led the way.

THE END
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