Latest Update: 10/12/06 - Part 20
Among the Stars - SECTION III
By NotTasha...

PART 14: GLUEBOOTS

Ronon could hear his own breathing as he took his first step clear of the Ironspot.  A flick of a switch at his waist, and his right foot adhered to the ramp as if it had been glued there.  Reluctantly, he let loose his grip on the side of the Ironspot, released his left foot and took a step.  Once he was in place, he let the right foot go and took another step.

He didn’t look around.  He didn’t care about the stars.  He put his attention on only two things – the central core in front of him, and the toggles at his waist.  It was slow going, as he moved one foot, ensured it was secure, and then released the other.

The suit was bulky and difficult.  He couldn’t turn his head.  When he tried, his hair got tangled up in the helmet and he grumbled at the discomfort. One dreadlock became wedged in a crack to tug at his scalp.

“How’s it going, Ronon?” Sheppard’s voice was urgent.

“Going fine,” Ronon responded.

“Planning on getting this done anytime soon,” the scolding was evident.

Ronon frowned, and tried to increase his speed.  He hated this.  Hated that he was forced to trust this technology.  He hated that he was forced to do something he had no right doing.  He hated the sound of his breathing – so loud in the suit.  He hated the tightness of the contraption, the way it limited his movements.  Zeno was a little shorter and broader than him, leaving Ronon compressed in the ill-fitting suit.

He hated the pulled hair.  He hated his slowness, his awkwardness, his general stupidity when it came to these sorts of things.

He hated that they trusted him to do this job.  He was so skilled and so sure of himself in his usual element.  This was like nothing he’d ever done before.  He was clumsy and slow and unsure – words rarely used in conjunction with the name ‘Ronon Dex’.

If McKay died because he wasn’t good enough – because he was slow, because he was clumsy -- he’d never forgive himself.  He clicked the levers with enough force that he thought he might snap one of the devices off.  Damn it, he hated this.

And as he listened to his labored breathing, he realized he was afraid.

He didn’t like being afraid.

The Satedan surged forward, flipping a switch one way and taking a step, switching the switch the other way, then toggling the other control so that the other foot might move.  He stepped stiffly, keeping his head straight in the helmet.  He kept his eyes on the core, drawing closer to it, step by stupid step.

“Ronon…” Sheppard called again.

Reaching out one hand, Dex stepped again and touched the side of the column.  He sighed, grateful.  “Made it,” he proclaimed.

“Get with it then.”

Fine.  He pressed his gloved hand into the well just beneath the clamp, and pulled.

It took more effort that he had thought, but he was grateful for the glueboots that allowed him to gain some leverage.  The clamp came open slowly, but once he’d gotten it started, he was able to tug it fully open.

“One done,” he proclaimed and continued his task.

“Great.  Keep going.”

Dex kept moving, breathing too loudly, trying to get the hang of his own encumbered movements as he attached one foot, and then the other in his trek.

He made it a quarter of the way around the column, found the next clamp and released it with relative ease.

In his ears, he could hear Sheppard continuing his monologue to Rodney.  “Hey, McKay, I’m thinking we’re going to set up that Jacuzzi when we get back to Atlantis.  That’ll warm you up.  Great place to meet girls, don’t you think?  You have something to wear, right?  Somehow I wonder if it's... you know... fit to be seen in public.  Wonder where you could get a new suit?  We really need a mall or a department store.  We should be able to get one set up on one of the empty levels, don’t you think? Get the place stocked, import some folks from Macy’s or whatever they have in Canada.  What's up there, Hudson’s Bay Company? Is everything plaid at that place?  I’m just sayin’…”

It was all empty prattle – no meaning to it.

McKay said nothing, and Sheppard kept talking, “‘Cause mail order sucks when you have to wait at least month to get what you want.  I had a hankering for pretzels weeks ago.  Ordered them, said I needed them ‘now’ – you know, special priority!  Still don’t got ‘em.  That sucks.  You listening to me, McKay?”

Ronon ignored the words of the harangue because puzzling their meaning would have taken too much time.

He kept moving, as quickly as he could.

“You know what’s really good?  Those ‘Little Smokies’ in barbeque sauce.  You’ve had that, right?  Great with pretzels, by the way.  But, get this, a while back, I was going to a party with this girl.  It was all her friends and family, and we were supposed to bring a snack or something.  I wanted to bring the Little Smokies, but all she could say was, ‘they won’t like that’ and ‘ that’s too trailer trash’, but I brought it anyway -- mostly because I had the stuff in the fridge and it was easy.  Guess which appetizer was the first to go? Guys were sucking up the leftover sauce.  Yeah, I don’t see the girl anymore.”

Dex lost sight of the Ironspot as he reached the third clamp, and found himself breathing harder at that thought.  It felt so alone with only the stars around him.  I shouldn’t be scared, he reminded himself, as he worked at the latest clamp – finding it a little harder than the other two.

“I know, I know.  I couldn’t be seeing her now if I wanted to, but I mean, how could I hang with a girl who doesn’t know about how good Little Smokies are?  Jeez, now I’m jonesing for some of those.  Damn it!  See what you’ve done to me, McKay?  McKay?”

Teyla remained silent as John continued talking.  Ronon was too busy to interject anything.  He let Sheppard buzz in his ears.  Rodney, too, was silent, even as Shepard called his name again. And that alone was entirely wrong.

When was McKay ever silent?

Ronon wrenched at the clamp with all his strength, hating the way the suit dug into his body at painful places.  Hating that the hunk of stuck hair got yanked again.  He was sweating, and he cursed himself for sweating when he’d only walked a few paces.  And he was still breathing too hard.

“Ronon, how’s it coming?” Sheppard asked.

Ronon declared, “Nearly done.”

“You are doing fine,” Teyla encouraged.

He didn’t like this… did not like feeling so out of control.  The sight of endless space made him queasy.   As soon as they got back to Atlantis, he was going to head to the mainland and spend a few days with dirt beneath his feet and the sky above – yes, keep space above him, where it should be.  As soon as they got McKay out of this thing…

He hissed out a breath.  Why couldn’t he go faster?  The suit slowed him to a ridiculous pace.  His skin crawled with the knowledge that his slowness might doom McKay.  He narrowed his gaze, not wanting to dwell on that, not wanting to come back to Atlantis and listen to Sheppard tell Weir, “We almost got to him in time… we were so close.”

It was getting easier to move, the rhythm of the levers combined with the movements of his feet, were becoming second nature.

“Anyway, McKay,” Sheppard went on, his voice becoming a soothing backdrop to Ronon’s journey.  “If we had a mall on Atlantis, you could buy a new wardrobe.  If there ever were a candidate for ‘What Not to Wear’, you’d be the one. Of course, I’m not applying to be one of the Queer Eye guys, but maybe we could work something out.  Jeez, I can’t believe I’m even mentioning those shows.”

Ronon reached the fourth clamp, Sheppard droning in his ears. He’d never admit it, but John’s conversation – meant for Rodney – helped make this a bit easier. The nonsense was so commonplace that it made the whole situation a little less – otherworldly to him.

Ronon pulled the final lever as soon as he reached it, grinning that he’d managed to move faster. 

“Done!” he proclaimed.  His eyes stayed on the wrecked bit of the central core.

“Hey!” Sheppard cheered over the radio. “Way to go, Ronon!”

“Excellent, Ronon!” Teyla joined in, her voice seeming to reveal that she’d never doubted him.

Ronon’s breathing continued to reverberate within the suit, as he stared at the column.  Nothing had changed.  “How does it come loose?” he asked.

“Give it a shove,” Sheppard suggested.

Ronon grumbled, first checking that his feet were still ‘glued’ before he reached out with both hands and gave the upper section of the column a push.  He may have groaned.

The blasted bit of space station stayed put.

Disgustedly, he reported, “It isn’t moving!”

“Is there a collar or something holding it in place still?” Sheppard asked. “McKay said there might be something.”

Ronon examined the thing, and reached his gloved hands along the crack between the two sections.  Yeah, there appeared to be an overlay covering the split between sections.  He reached his gloved fingers into a groove, and pried.  With a tug, the collar came toward him with a quick click, and he had to work the levers at his hip quickly to step back and keep from getting struck with it.  Once that was loosened, he held onto the collar with one hand and gave the column another shove.

The massive piece of equipment came loose, easily, simply.  The piece, probably weighing tons in a normal atmosphere, just drifted away, easily directed by a touch of the finger.

Ronon smiled.  It was difficult not to feel mighty at that moment.  Good… done!  Time to get out of the way and let Sheppard dock the jumper.  He attempted to step away from the airlock, but his foot didn’t land.

Shocked, he flipped the switch on his hip to adhere to the deck, but the boots were now a good foot above the surface of the deck.  The mooring device wasn’t working.  His desperate movement did nothing.  He was floating free.

His breath came quickly, loud in his ears, as he lashed out a hand trying to grasp hold of the airlock, but there was no wind resistance, no friction, nothing to help him move back.  He was drifting loose -- out into space.

PART 15: CRANE

“I mean,” John went on, “It’s not as if I watch those sorts of shows or anything, you know – that Queer Eye thing.  Alexis was hooked on those shows.  Alexis – that’s the girl I was talking about.  I can’t count how many decent nights were ruined by watching that crap.”

He kept talking because it was easier than keeping silent.  Rodney was sprawled out now, one arm floating up over his head, the other tucked under him.  A leg was bent and he was half turned on his side.  The physicist no longer made the attempt to ‘fly’.   He looked dead and drowned.

If John kept talking, it made things normal -- it made Rodney less pitiful in that empty dome -- it made Sheppard think his friend wasn't so damn close to being lost to them.

“And that crap-ass show -- ‘Trading Spaces’. Yeah, like I’d let those morons paint my vinyl floor instead of replacing it.  What the hell kind of refurb is that?  They’re always painting over wallpaper or slapping some crap up and calling it art.”

Sheppard checked the Life Sign Detector again, assuring himself that Rodney still lived.  McKay didn’t seem to be bleeding any longer, but he’d lost too damn much blood already.  The freakish blobs festooned the space around him.

If they didn’t get to him soon…  Sheppard glanced to the life sign detector again, making sure.

“I blame Alexis for my home makeover nightmares,” he continued.  “Used to wake up in a cold sweat with visions of fabric swatches and paint chips dancing in my head.”

“Ronon!” Teyla’s voice, sharp and frightened, broke John’s chain of thought again.

Dex made a rather unmanly sounding noise, full of fear.

“What?  What’s going on?” Sheppard asked, having pulled closer to the dome, he was blind to Ronon’s current position.

“Ronon has lost his footing!” Teyla proclaimed.  “He stepped back quickly and did not engage the boots.  He is floating loose!”

“This is NOT good!” Ronon exclaimed, sounding like Rodney at that moment.

”We will get you, Ronon!”

Sheppard redirected the jumper, feeling a moment of regret about leaving Rodney alone.  “I’ll be back,” he promised, and brought the jumper ‘down’ to the bottom side of the observation deck.  His heart sank when he saw Ronon, gliding freely.  The Satedan was moving slowly but constantly away from the safety of the deck.

“Okay,” Sheppard decided quickly.  “If I open the rear hatch of the jumper, I should be able to scoop him up and…”

“Wait…” Teyla came back.  “Rix has an idea.”

Ronon groaned.

“What?” Sheppard demanded, getting the jumper closer.  He wondered if he could just get close to Ronon and let the man grasp hold of something.  But, he’d have to be damn delicate with the maneuver.  One wrong move would send Ronon reeling into space.  He’d catch him, eventually, of course – he had to -- but every moment lost...

“Rix says that he has what we need.”

“What?  What does he have?”

Sheppard was startled when something started to move on the top of the Ironspot, and he backed the jumper, getting it out of the way, as the crane moved upward and outward, pulling itself from the roof of the Ironspot and looking rather like a waterfowl’s long neck extending.

--------------------------------------

Teyla watched as the Bogachiel activated the system from the co-pilot seat.  He slid his hands into the controls that seem to form around his arms.  “This comes in handy…” he stated, blinking and lowering his head.  He twisted his arms about in the controls.

On the display, a monitor lit up, showing the big crane from a better angle.  The device lifted and began moving toward Ronon.  The Satedan drifted, looking small and lost in the magnitude of space, surrounded by stars.

“Used it lots of time,” Rix went on.  “Not everyone takes kindly to us getting on their ships, you know?”  He made a short laugh and licked his lips.  “Sometimes… sometimes… we need a little help getting in.”

“You are skilled at its use?” Teyla asked, hopefully.

“The best,” Rix returned, but his eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at the monitor.  “I can undo locks and stuff like that.  Precision instrument!”

Teyla furrowed her brow.  “So, why didn’t we use this to release the central core?”

Rix stopped his movements and blinked at Teyla, his pupils looking too big for his eyes.  “I… dunno…” he responded.  “You asked for a suit.”  He offered Teyla a little smile before he returned his gaze to the monitor.  “I’ll catch him.”

And he moved the arm purposefully forward, shoving it into the starry blackness and toward Ronon.  The crane extended, turning about and making a graceful little gesture in order to snag hold of the man.  Rix cocked his head, turning it further and further in one direction. “Got him!” he declared, opening the talon-like end of the crane and closing it, delicately.

He missed the Satedan by a good six feet.

“Oh crackers,” Rix uttered.

“Get closer!” Ronon demanded, reaching one arm out ineffectually toward the lifted crane.  His voice seemed a little higher than its regular baritone.  “I can’t reach it!” His trajectory didn’t change and he inched along and away.

“What are you doing in there?” Sheppard’s voice came on. “Either get that thing to work right, or I’m going to in and try to catch him with the jumper, and that might not be pretty.”

“Huh,” Rix muttered. “That should’ve been… I should’ve been spot on.  Should be… okay… lemmie try again.”  He wheeled the crane around, extending one section, retracting another, bending the flexible arm about, in exactly the wrong direction.  Mills bit his lip, and closed his eyes a moment as if to clear his vision and continued to turn his head to one side.

And Teyla watched him with sudden understanding.  If Rix couldn’t see out of one eye, then he would have no ability to judge distance.  She looked in horror as the pirate maneuvered the crane about, bringing it around too fast, too close to Ronon.

“Hey!” Ronon shouted.  “Hey!  Watch out!”

She sprang from her chair, shoving Rix away from the controls.  The pirate made a pathetic gasp as his arms fell from the slots.  The crane stopped immediately, saving Ronon from being batted into deep space.

“Watch it, Mills!” Sheppard growled.  “Stop messing around and catch him!”

“Wait… wait… I got it,” Rix went on.  “Really, I’m good at this.  I am!  Let me try again!”  He leaned forward, attempting to return his arms to the controls. “I want to…”

Teyla quickly divined the easiest and most efficient way to take command of the situation, to use the controls and to keep the concussed Rix from making another attempt.  She slid over quickly and sat on him.

Rix made a strange little sound, more surprised than annoyed, perhaps even a little happy as the Athosian pressed her derriere into him and shoved him with her back.

“Rix cannot see well enough to use the device,” Teyla said over the radio and she grasped hold of the controls.  “I will use it instead.”

Ronon continued to drift.  “Teyla,” he said.  “Hurrying might be good.”

“Teyla, are you sure you can handle it?” Sheppard’s voice was hard.  “Seems like the device is kinda… tricky?  And we really don’t have time for a learning curve.”

“I flew the Ironspot,” she returned.  “I will manage this.”

Ronon would be moving out of range any moment now.  She could detach the Ironspot from the Observation Deck to chase him down, but she couldn’t control both the ship and the crane at the same time – and unfortunately, Rix was in no shape to help with either.

He made a little gasp from behind her, as she pressed him into the comfy chair.

If she failed and Sheppard had to perform the task with his jumper -- it would only delay McKay’s rescue.  They had to catch Ronon…and then John could get Rodney out of that place.

Rodney had been alone for too long – and nothing would feel right if they lost him.

She extended the arm, bringing it out further, following Ronon as he kept moving away.  Sweat beaded at her forehead as she quickly taught herself how to use the crane, remembering how Rix had managed it. It wasn’t as easy as it looked.   The crane seemed to over-react to any of her tiny adjustments.

“Teyla?” Ronon called.  She could see him on the monitor, getting smaller all the time.  “Teyla?”

She was thankful that she couldn’t see his face, that she didn’t see the concern, the anxiety that had to be there.

He was moving too quickly.  He was getting out of range.  She’d be lucky if she could grab onto one of his feet.  She moved the arm into position.  Yes!  She could do it!  She’d have his foot in a second.  She found the controls for the claw at the top of the crane and tried it to ensure she understood how it would clasp.

“Don’t…” Rix called from behind her. He looked over her shoulder, his chin settled against her neck.  His voice was soft as he said, “Don’t … don’t clamp onto his feet with the… claw.”  He seemed to be struggling to come up with the words.  “You don’t know… That thing’ll rip his… his foot right off… if you don’t do it right.”

“What did he say?”  Ronon’s voice came back at her.  Apparently, Rix was close enough to be easily heard over the radio.

“Calm down, Ronon,” Sheppard responded.  “Teyla will get you, all safe and sound.”

“Just try to … ah… you… just need to… hook it over his foot,” Rix went on, attempting to get one arm free so he could illustrate what he wanted her to do, but he was firmly trapped with his hands in his lap, beneath a certain Athosian.

Ronon kept moving away, inch by inch.

Teyla reached out the crane, getting dangerously near Ronon’s leg.  An error in her movements, and she might tap him enough to increase his speed.  She stopped short and extended the end of crane, then twisted her wrist and curved the ‘talon’ around, carefully bringing the device to rest on the top of Ronon’s foot.  Ronon extended the foot, ensuring that it caught, and the Satedan stopped.

Teyla let out a breath, sitting back on the pirate, and just let herself relax for a moment.

Muffled, Rix spoke softly, “Teyla… Teyla… could you…move…”

Teyla stood without really paying attention, smiling at the image on the screen – Ronon captured.  She’d managed it!  She’d caught him!

She never wanted to have to do that again.

PART 16: SNAGGED

Sheppard leaned forward in his seat, holding his breath and waited, hoping.  He watched as the crane tentatively reached toward Ronon.  Hurry, he encouraged silently, hurry!  Get him!

Then, he let out a long, low breath when the little fingers on the end of the crane curled around, doing little more than laying at the tops of Ronon’s boot – but it was enough.  The arm of the crane was fully extended, and Dex was snagged.  The image that was rendered would have looked majestic if only they all hadn’t been scared out of their minds.

Thank God!  Ronon was safe, now there was another that still needed help.

“I’m going in!” Sheppard stated.  “Teyla, can you get Ronon in by yourself?”

“Get McKay!” Ronon’s voice came over the comm.  “I’m not helpless, you know.”

“Right,” Sheppard responded, not wanting to mention how terribly vulnerable the man had looked a moment ago.  He steered the jumper to the airlock, careful to avoid the delicate-looking crane and its cargo, and to maneuver around the wrecked bit of central core that still floated nearby.

As he backed up the craft, the HUD came online, showing his progress, letting him know that he was coming in square to the airlock.  As the automatic system did its job, he watched the show outside his window, as Teyla slowly pulled the crane in, dragging Ronon along with it.

Once the crane was low enough, Ronon would be able to grab hold somewhere and edge his way to the open rear compartment.  Sheppard couldn’t remain to see the finale.

“You’re doing great, Teyla,” Sheppard called out.  “You too, Ronon.”

The Athosian didn’t respond, too busy with her responsibility, but the Satedan groaned unhappily.

The airlock latched hold of Jumper 5. There was a hiss as the pressures equalized, and finally, almost anticlimactically, he had access to the Observation Deck.

“Sure had to go a long way to get around a locked door,” Sheppard muttered as he made his way to the back of the ship.

“Rodney, leave it to you to be Mr. Perfect,” he went on over the radio.  “When you lock a door, it STAYS locked.  Only an exploding lady-pirate can blow a hole in your plan.”

He opened a cabinet in the jumper as the rear hatch opened onto the dome, revealing again the black field and the stars beyond.  He had no time to marvel at its beauty this time.

He grabbed the first thing his hands laid on, the medical kit, and tossed it onto the back seat.   He’d need that, no doubt.

“Just hang on a second, Rodney.”

It took a little digging, but he finally clasped hold of a length of rope.  Excellent!  There was no gravity in that dome – and they’d need a means of getting back into the jumper once all was said and done.

He glanced around within the jumper, finding a strut that would suit his purpose.  He tied off one end of the rope on the structure and the other was secured at his waist.  He tested the knots quickly, then, taking a fortifying breath, he stepped down the ramp.

He toed the edge of the ramp, finding where it changed – here there was gravity, and just beyond – there was nothing.

“Rodney?”

He found his target, floating in the dome.  Rodney looked so goddamn strange floating like that, all catawampus and so damn lifeless -- alone.

“I’m coming.  Just hang on a second.”

Ensuring that his rope tightly tied, he squatted down, holding onto on edge of the hatch doorway, then shoved off, aiming himself toward Rodney.

It was a little like doing laps in a pool, he decided.  Like pushing off from the edge and gaining some distance before the real work began.

But this was nothing like swimming he realized.

It was the most remarkable feeling, to move without help of gravity, to fly, to float.  He zoomed through space, stars blurring around him as he reached out.  As he quickly approached McKay, he uttered a quick, “Hey, long time no see,” and he snagged hold of the hovering physicist, grasping onto one of Rodney’s arms just below the shoulder.

He didn’t even slow down as he pulled McKay along with him.

God, Rodney was cold… and pale.  Jeez, how much time had passed since Rodney’d been shot?

The ‘ceiling’ of the Observation Dome was coming at them fast.  Thinking quickly, Sheppard curled around McKay, holding the unresponsive physicist to his chest and arching his back to the wall. 

“Hold on,” he declared, wrapping his arms protectively around McKay’s upper body, ensuring his head was tucked against his shoulder.  John expected a bone jarring impact, but they collided gently with the top of the dome and bounced back the way they’d come.

“How’s it goin’?” he asked as they continued on their flight.  “You hangin’ in there?”

Sheppard kept a tight hold on his friend, as if he was afraid he’d never get to do such a thing again.  He realized how embarrassing the situation might be perceived, and how Rodney would whine about compromising positions if he knew what was going on.

They’d been lucky – so damn lucky!  They’d come too close to losing him.  Pirates!  Space Pirates!  Never in a thousand years would he have thought they’d fall prey to space pirates.

Of course, he never would have figured he’d be living in another galaxy, trying to keep ahead of life-sucking vampires.  He never figured he’d spend his days flying about in spaceships and jumping from planet to planet through wormholes.  He never imagined himself floating through a giant dome, gliding free of gravity, clutching the smartest man in two galaxies to his chest.

Never thought that this genius would have ended up as his best friend.

So damn close to losing him.

“Nice view,” Sheppard commented as he gazed at the panorama.

Rodney said nothing in response.  Sheppard brought a hand to his cool neck, and felt for a pulse.  Rodney’s heartbeat seemed far too fast.  There was no flicker of regaining consciousness.

The chill might have been a benefit, Sheppard realized glumly, might have helped keep Rodney from bleeding out.

So damn close – and Sheppard realized that they weren’t out of the woods yet.

“You know,” Sheppard stated,  “this is all kinda cool.  I mean, if they had a ride like this at Disneyland, I’d be the first one in line.  It’s like a giant bounce-house.  Remember those when we were kids?  Kinda fun, but all the same, I think it’s time we went home.  What do you say?”

He gave Rodney a little jiggle, and the man seemed to nod.

“Great!  Agreement!  Let’s get the hell out of here.”

He kept Rodney pressed against him, and started pulling himself back to the ship, pulling the rope hand over hand.  It was rather easy, he decided.  He much preferred this means of carrying an injured man.  He didn’t even have to hold onto Rodney, just keep pulling himself toward the jumper and Rodney was pushed along with him.

“It should be like this every time I have to haul your sorry ass somewhere,” Sheppard declared, but remembered other times and didn’t like it.  Rodney had been hurt too frequently, had been carried home over someone’s shoulder often enough.

Rodney would survive, Sheppard promised himself.  He’d get the Canadian back to Atlantis in no time, have Beckett look him over.  The good doctor would add a quart or two of 10W/40, do a filter change, check the fluids, and all would be fine.

“You might get stuck in the infirmary for a bit, McKay, but they got all the Jell-o you could want there.  Might even have some of the blue stuff around.  If you're good -- maybe even a pudding cup.  Depends on when the Daedalus last showed up.  When were they here last, Rodney?  Seems like it’s been a while.”

Sheppard knew McKay was ‘out of it’ when a question was posed, yet no answer received.

“All the Jell-o you can poke down your pie-hole,” Sheppard reiterated as he tugged them toward the jumper.  “You’ll be like a prince in Gelatin Land.  I hope they bring the pretzels I ordered.  Think there’s a chance of them bringing Little Smokies and a jar of barbeque sauce?  I’m not asking for much.”   And then he pressed one foot to the ramp of the jumper and gravity came back to him, pressing down with all of Rodney’s weight.

He gasped, trying to grab hold of McKay before the man crashed to the floor, but was only able to lessen the blow as they collapsed together.

Gravity was a harsh mistress.

“Damn it!” he grumbled, staggering off of Rodney and quickly rolling McKay onto his back.  He felt for a pulse again.  Still alive!  Then, pulled McKay the last few feet up the ramp and into the rear of the jumper.

He was panting from the short exertion.  Even walking to the ramp control seemed difficult as he got used to dealing with gravity again.  Damn it!  He’d only been free of it for a few minutes!  Suck!

He raised the hatch, closing off the beautiful dome of stars, and sealing the ship.

“Colonel?” Teyla called plangently.  “Colonel?”

He realized that she’d probably been calling for some time.  “I got him,” he declared as he took a few steps to reach the pilot’s seat.  He glanced to the Ironspot, finding the crane retracted and Ronon no longer floating about.  “Looks like you got your guy, too?”

“Yes, Colonel,” Teyla responded brightly.  “He is well.”

“Don’t ask me to do that again,” Ronon growled over the comm.

Sheppard chuckled, as he freed the jumper from the dock, and gave the ship a little juice so that it moved away from the Observation Deck.   Beside him, Teyla removed the automatic mooring and the Ironspot drifted alongside him.

“How is Rodney?” Teyla asked urgently.

Sheppard sighed.  “I’m just going to check on him now.”  He left the pilot's chair and moved to the rear of the jumper, grabbing the medical bag and falling to his haunches beside his friend.  There was a lot of blood, it had saturated the clothing on Rodney’s side -- the lack of gravity had sending the stain in weird directions.

Sheppard pulled the shirt away from McKay’s hip, quickly revealing the bullet wound.  It still seeped unpleasantly. Damn it!

Rodney was too damn pale.  His pulse was too fast.  Sheppard pulled a dressing from the bag and applied it quickly and expertly to the wound, hoping it would help keep the rest of Rodney’s blood inside of him.  He pressed down hard, wishing the pain would get Rodney to respond to him, but Rodney managed nothing more than a disquieting sigh.

”You’re going to be fine,” Sheppard demanded.   “I’m not going to put up with you doing anything other than that, you got it?”  He checked the wound, wondering if he’d done any good.  And ripped a fresh dressing from its packaging and did his best to tie the bandage around Rodney’s waist.  “Damn inconvenient place to get shot,” he muttered as he worked.  “There, got you patched up for now,” he declared.

“Hang on.” He shucked off his jacket and balled it up.  Carefully, he lifted Rodney’s head and settled the jacket as a pillow.  “You’d better stop bleeding because if you get this jacket stained, I’ll have your ass.  Do you know how hard it is to get anything dry cleaned here?”

He frowned, feeling the chill of Rodney’s pale skin.

He stood and ripped open another cabinet, toppling most of the contents onto the floor as he brought down the half-buried emergency blankets.  “After all the trouble we went through, you better stick around.  That’s all I got to say.”  He unfurled one blanket and tucked it quickly around his friend.  “We even got Ronon stuffed into a spacesuit if you can imagine that.  I’m sure you’re going to want to discuss your shared experiences with him.”

“So,” Ronon’s voice came at him, “he going to be okay?”

Sheppard grimaced, working the other blanket around Rodney.  “If we get him back to Beckett,” he stated.  “Now.”

“Then we will go… now,” Teyla replied.

Sheppard stood up.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  There was little more he could do at the moment.  He wished he could get McKay up on the cushioned bench seat, but he didn’t want to lift him with ‘full on’ gravity, and he figured the less he moved the Canadian, the better.

He gave McKay another look, then dropped down beside him.  “Look,” he said softly.  “We saved your toys.  You’re going to want to play with them.  You’re going to make it, ‘cause I don’t know… I don’t know how to do this without you around to give me grief all the time.”

Rodney said nothing, so, after giving him a pat on the shoulder, Sheppard stood and hurried to the pilot seat again.  He dropped into it and touched the controls.  “Okay then,” he stated.  “We’re going home.”

He guided the jumper forward, putting more power behind.  The Ironspot followed – slower because Teyla was still learning how to control it.

He watched the other ship on the HUD, wondering if it would even fit through the gate.  It seemed to have a wider girth than the jumper, but it may have been an optical illusion.  It had a DHD didn’t it?  The length was a problem though – the crane extended the ship quite a bit and he wondered if it would fit into the Gateroom.    Plus, there was the possibility that the ship had some sort of a tracking system.  Hadn’t they found some devices hidden in the treasure haul they’d found on PX1-H0H?

And there was Rix to worry about.  They didn’t need another outsider knowing about the continued existence of Atlantis – not that half the galaxy didn’t seem to already know.

He spoke over the radio, as he adjusted the temperature in the jumper, “Look, I’m heading home.  You might want to take the Ironspot… and our guest… elsewhere?”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Ronon returned.  “We’ll do it.  The little guy isn’t looking too good though.  He isn’t talking anymore.  Might want to have someone give him a look.”

“Yeah, we can make that happen.”  After he’d gotten Rodney to the infirmary, of course.

“I believe we should go to P7M-557,” Teyla decided.  “Major Lorne is currently at that site, inspecting the area and considering the Gate for removal in the bridge project.  I believe he has a medic with his team.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

They were going to make it!  They even had a plan for dealing with the alien tech and the… alien.  Drop the Ironspot off at P7M-557, and let the scientists poke at it all they wanted.  Within a month all the jumpers could be fitted with shields and mooring devices and whatever else they wanted to install.  Sheppard just hoped the final result didn’t look quite so crappy as the Ironspot – because – he really didn’t care for crappy.

If there was a tracking device on the Ironspot, fine.  Just as long as no one was able to find Atlantis by following it.  As for Rix… well, that might be trickier.  They’d just drop him somewhere harmless.

They sped back toward the ringed planet, its backlit moons coming into view.  John pulled further ahead of the Ironspot, ready to dial up Atlantis.

“See, McKay,” he spoke to his passenger.  “We got it all figured out.  It’s all fine.  You’re going to be okay.  You got that?  We’re almost home.”

Finally, as they rounded the gas giant, there was the Gate.  He smiled… for a moment.

And Sheppard’s jaw dropped in disbelief as he stared.  The Gate was engaged.

Crap!  Crap Crap crap!  Not now… God, we do NOT need to deal with the Wraith NOW!

“Teyla, Ronon, turn back!” John shouted as he brought the jumper to a sudden halt.  "We got guests!"

And then something emerged from the event horizon.  He brought up the cloak.

Ships -- but instead of darts, a series of vessels emerged – each a little different than the other – each of them built on the same apparent base – each of them looking a little too much like the Ironspot. Five, ten, a dozen materialized from the blue.

Crap… holy crap…

The armada of ships angled around, fell into formation, and then turned toward jumper.  Sheppard directed the jumper out of their way, to let them pass him so that he could get in behind them.  They followed his movements.

What the hell?  They were heading right at him!  Sheppard double-checked to ensure that cloak engaged.  Son of a bitch!  They can see me!

His only hope now was that the Ironspot was far enough back to escape unnoticed.  He glanced toward Rodney at the back of the jumper, beneath the pile of blankets, still as death.

“Sorry, buddy,” he muttered.  “I’m so damn sorry.”  He swallowed, as his mind raced, trying to figure a way out of this.

A voice rang through the com system, “We are the Bogachiel!  Prepare to be boarded.”


PART 17: WEAPON

Teyla slowed the Ironspot and searched the control panel.  “Rix,” she called, her voice barely a whisper.  “Rix, how do we initialize the shield system?”

Rix said nothing, sitting forward in the seat with his head in his hands.

“Rix!” she called again.  “The cloak… and the shields?” but the pirate was quiet again, his eyes unfocused.

The gas giant still hid them from the Bogachiel fleet, and if they were lucky, they could keep the big planet between them and the armada – but Sheppard and McKay were in the open, had been spotted.

“We’re not going to hide,” Ronon growled from behind her, trying to free himself from the rest of Zeno’s spacesuit.  He’d already managed to rip out a few of his dreads with the removal of the helmet, and the rest of the procedure wasn’t making him any happier.

Teyla was already bringing the Ironspot forward, determined to do whatever she could to get her team home.

All her life, Teyla had heard stories about the Bogachiel – the pirates that robbed the good people of their riches, took their technology.

All her life, she’d thought they were only legends, stories told by the elders by the fireside to scare the little ones into treating their property with greater respect.  “Forget your things outside, and the Bogachiel will snatch them away in the night.”

The pirates were, if anything, an alternative to their horrors of the life-sucking Wraith.  The Bogachiel wanted only ‘stuff’, things that one could part with.  The pirates had a propensity to take things that were shiny – gold, silver, jewels – or bits of ancient technology – things that her people had little use for anyway.  They were known to be killers, marauders, but their penchant for pretties made them rather like the dark-colored birds that picked up shiny things.  It made the Bogachiel, in a way, ridiculous.

They were ghosts, shadows of history, weren't they?  Had they just been in hiding all these years?  Or had they always been around, flitting around the edges of civilized life?  Or maybe blending in, hiding in plain sight.

She jetted the Ironspot forward, sliding around the gas giant with its beautiful rings.  The molten colors of the gasses swirled beneath them like a great sea as they came in view of the Gate, the jumper and the Bogachiel flotilla.

From behind her, Ronon saw the same sight, and paused in his attempts to remove his glueboot.

At least a dozen oddball Ironspots were closing in on Jumper 5. Apparently realizing that he’d been spotted and had taken down his cloaking device.  Instead of firing, Sheppard’s ship took a sudden dive, and shimmied, trying to evade the approaching ships.

“What’s he doing?” Ronon asked.  “Shouldn’t Sheppard be blowing things up?”

Teyla heaved out a sigh, realizing that the colonel was probably just doing his best to survive at the moment, knowing that the rest of his team was right behind him without any weapons.  If he started a firefight now, the safety of both their ships would be in peril.  The Bogachiel hadn’t fired yet, so maybe there was a chance that this would end peacefully.

“He’s… testing them,” Teyla decided.  “Trying to gain some advantage.”

Ronon gave Rix a punch in the arm, demanding, “We got shields, don’t we?  How do we get them on?”

Rix just turned to him slowly, lifting his head see him.  He blinked, stupidly, his pupils too big for his head.  “Zeno?” he asked softly.

Ronon grumbled in return, tossing the glueboots to the back of the ship with more force than was necessary. “Let’s get in there,” Ronon decided.

Teyla, agreeing, brought the Ironspot closer.

The radio crackled.  Apparently their ship had been spotted as well, as an unfamiliar voice called out, “Rix?  Is that your ship?”

Mills stiffened at the sound of that voice, and a tremble ran through him as he pressed himself further into the comfy seat.  “Ostego…” he breathed out, his voice filled with fear.  “He’s here?”

“Rix!” the voice called again.  “What are you doing? How’d you get your ship flying?”

Jumper 5 peeled away, ducking and dodging and careening through the hybrid ships as they attempted to hem him in.  They hadn’t fired their weapons yet – probably hadn't tried to lock onto him -- and John, realizing he was outnumbered, must have been waiting them out.

The ships seemed intent on herding the Jumper, moving it into the center of their group, containing it.

Teyla’s personal radio sounded in her ear as the Ironspot’s radio continued to relay comments from the others.  “Teyla, Ronon,” Sheppard called softly.  “You guys got shields?”

“No, Colonel,” Teyla said softly, as if anything above a whisper would be picked up by the Ironspot’s radio.  “And we are without weapons.”  But even as she said that, she remembered something.

“Wortley!  Zeno!”  Ostego’s voice raged over the Ironspot’s radio.  “What is going on!?”

Rix brought his hands to his temples, rubbing them gently.  “Wortley?” he softly echoed the name, blinking toward Teyla.

Teyla set her jaw, made a decision, and turned on her radio.  She uttered in an almost comically deep voice, “This is Wortley!  You’re attacking our prisoner!”

Rix looked surprised, and behind him, Ronon’s face filled with a wide grin.

“Stop your assault! We have the situation under control!” Teyla continued, her voice at a gravelly growl.

Ostego questioned, “Captured the Ancestor’s ship all by yourselves, did you, Wortley?”

“Yes, we have it under our control,” Teyla insisted, and the jumper slowed its attempts to escape. “It is you that have caused this problem.  You may… back off.”

“We’ll see,” Ostego commented.  “Hold up,” he commanded the other ships.  “Let’s see what’s going on here.”

The hybrid ships reduced their herd-dog gyrations, and the jumper slowed to a stop in their midst.

“Hailing Ancient vessel,” Teyla called, a bark in her voice.  “Has the ship or its contents been damaged?”

John’s drawl came over the comm.,  “Damaged?  The ‘contents’ aren’t getting any better, that’s for sure.  I was really hoping we could put an end to this situation soon.”  His voice snapped out the last words.

“We were escorting the vessel to …” and Teyla’s voice trailed a moment as she tried to come up with something quick.

“Trinway,” Rix offered, his voice soft, but his face still taut with fear.

Ronon offered a quick nod, recognizing the planet name – a shady place famous for building all things ‘mechanical’.  Ronon leaned toward the radio, stating, “We’re taking the gateship to Trinway for refitting.”

“Zeno?” Ostego called, his voice crackling over the ship’s poor communication system. “that you?”

“Yeah!”  Ronon shot back, trying not to sound flustered, hoping the comm. system was bad enough to hide his identity.  “This is Zeno.”

“Where’s Rix?”

Ronon gave Mills a hard shove with his knuckle.  The pirate piped up with a quick, “I’m here!”

“How’d you get the Ancestors’ ship? Who’s piloting it?”  Ostego questioned as his fleet hovered around them.  A ship came near the Ironspot, close enough so that they could nearly see inside.

Teyla sunk into her seat, hoping that they didn’t look too carefully into the cockpit.  Ronon moved back, getting out of view.  Rix was sitting forward again, his elbows on the console, chin resting on his hands.  With any luck the observers would see only the ‘pilot’ – and not notice that he was in the copilot’s position.  Apparently they didn’t look too closely because the ship continued on its way.

“Their ship docked at the station for repairs,” Teyla told them.  “We took command.  They have a man who can fly it.”

“Yeah, I’m the man,” Sheppard voice came over.  “I’m just doin’ what they tell me… and hoping we get over this … soon?”

“Who is this?”

“No one… just a detainee.  Trying to fly a ship… and you know… wanting to get out of here.” Sheppard sounded more than annoyed.

“Wortley, you left their people alone on their own ship?” Ostego was apprehensive.  “Where they have access to all their systems?”

“They don’t dare disobey,” Ronon cut into the conversation again, his voice sounding odd as he tried to replicate Zeno’s voice.  “We’ll destroy the ship if they step out of line.”

“Zeno, you idiot!” Ostego’s voice returned.  “You will NOT damage the ship!   I’d hoped Wortley or maybe even Rix had more sense!  We need the ship!”

Frowning at the assertion, Ronon said quietly, “It wasn’t my idea.”

“You should be grateful!” Teyla spat over the radio.  “We have captured a ship of the Ancestors, and a pilot!”  She glanced at Ronon, saying, “We are proceeding as we feel is best.”

“Wortley, sometimes I think Rix is the only one of you with a brain.”

The baffled redhead turned his head at this comment and blinked as if he had no idea what was going on.

“Rix, turn your ship back to the station,” Ostego ordered.  “I will escort the Ship of the Ancestors to Trinway.”

“We are the ones who captured the ship,” Ronon shot back.  “We deserve the spoils.”

Ostego’s voice hardened. “You will return to the station, where your ship will be searched and we’ll find exactly what you took with you.  Zeno, how much of MY property is in your possession?”

Ronon curled his lip, and opened his mouth to respond.  Teyla sighed, wondering what Bogachiel would have to say when they found what was left of their space station and their ‘property’.

Ostego went on, “Gateship, prepare to be escorted.”

Urgently, Teyla turned to Rix, asking, “How do we access the ship’s weapons!  Where are the weapon systems?”

Whether it was the concussion, or the fear of Ostego, Rix just stared out through the windshield, his jaw a little slack, and his eyelids at half-mast.

Teyla sighed, realizing that it’d do no good to press the man.  She swiveled in her seat.  “Ronon!  There are torpedo tubes along the floor.  Did Rodney show you anything about them while he was working?”

“Yeah,” Ronon responded, stepping into the rear of the ship.  “Was poking around in them.  I wasn’t listening… much.  Just have to pull up these panels, then there’s a port to open them up and load ‘em.  Just got to figure out what to put in ‘em.”

Teyla bit her lip, remembering that Rodney had told her that there didn’t seem to be any ammunition aboard.

Ronon gazed about the back of the Ironspot, searching for something… and his eyes lit upon their packs, bulky with what they contained.  A smile broke across his face, and he glanced to Teyla.

She returned the look with an even glance, and inclined her head.

Teyla toggled her radio again, stating clearly, “You will back away from the Ancestor’s ship and allow us clear passage to the Ring.”  She paused for only a moment before she added, “We have an explosive onboard, powerful enough to destroy us all.  If you do not let us go, we will fire it.”

PART 18: DERVISH

Sheppard skin was crawling.  He was furious.  This ‘sitting around doing nothing’ was killing him, as surely as the wasted time was killing McKay.  The Bogachiel ships seemed to be toying with him.  All of his best moves had been thwarted so far.  They hadn’t fired at him, but he was damn close to opening a can of whoop-ass on them.

He put his trust in Ronon and Teyla, hoping that the two could fast-talk their way past the pirate fleet.  But, it just wasn’t working out.  The man called ‘Ostego’ seemed highly suspicious.

“Nothing is easy, is it, McKay,” Sheppard groaned as he watched the ships huddle near him.  Any attempt at wending his way through them could be countered.  Damn it.  “Can’t ever get a decent break.  We escape an exploding space station, catch Ronon before he floats off to nowhere, get you out of a locked up dome of doom, just to get harassed by space pirates.”

He glanced back to Rodney, to ensue that he was okay.  The scientist didn’t move, covered in blankets at the rear of the ship.  John picked up the Life Sign Detector to ensure that Rodney was still with him.  He breathed out a sigh of relief.  “Hang in there, Rodney,” Sheppard muttered.  “We’ll get through this.”

Space Pirates suck, he decided.  And if these buccaneers were planning to delay them any longer, he’d just have to punch his way through them.  He had a full complement of drones -- that ought to take out half of those ships.

But, if he were to make a run for it to save Rodney, then Teyla and Ronon would be left to the mercy of the pirates.  Teyla didn’t have the experience to outmaneuver the skilled pilots.  They didn’t have weapons and didn’t know how to engage the shield.  He had only so many drones.  His teammates would be like sitting ducks.  Damn it!  Damn it!

And then Teyla said, “We have an explosive onboard, powerful enough to destroy us all.”

Oh … crackers.  Sheppard felt his blood run cold.  Had they just gone insane?  Not the ZPM!  “You’ve got to be kidding…” he said out loud.

But they wouldn’t try to fire a half-used ZPM into space, would they?  He frowned, realizing that something was up… because, well, they wouldn’t have revealed their hand so easily unless…

Well, if they wanted the Bogachiel to get the heebie jeebies, it was time to amp things up a bit.

Sheppard drew a deep breath, then shouted out,  “You have NO idea how much power is in that thing.  One wrong move and you’ll go up like a bomb when you try to fire it.  This is not a good idea.  This is suicide! It’ll evaporate everyone here, and take out a moon or two with it.  Might even light up this big gassy planet, too.

"We know what we are doing,” Ronon snarled.  “Ostego!  Either back off your ships or we’ll open fire.”

There was a pause, and then Ostego’s voice came back, “Who are you?”

“Either remove your ships from the immediate area, or we will fire the weapon,” Teyla restated.

“You shame me,” Ostego came back.  “You cannot fool a Bogachiel.  Fire your weapon.”

“You leave me no choice,” Teyla responded.

John watched as the torpedo tubes opened at the bottom of the ship.  Without a sound, the bomb shot out from under it.

The missile headed for one of the nearest ship.  In a panic, the pilot pressed his ship to get away from the weapon’s trajectory.  It dodged ‘downward’, in such haste that it couldn’t avoid the ship ‘below’.  The two ships slammed into each other, their shields rippling in rainbows, and they rolled in opposite directions.

“Nice distraction,” Sheppard said to himself, sending the jumper into motion, drawing ships with him.  He spun about, turning ass over teakettle, as the Bogachiel fleet opened fire on him. 

Good enough, he thought as he shot off a couple of drones into the mess of Bogachiel ships.

Two ships lit up like Chinese lanterns before they flew to pieces.  Sheppard ducked under the mess, bringing the chasing ships with him.

Shards of light flashed past him as the ships tried to take him down.  Debris flew everywhere, spinning away from the catastrophe.  A piece struck one of the chasing ships.  The shields protected it, but didn’t save it from twirling about like a Dervish at the impact. 

To avoid collision, two other ships darted away.  One clipped into its brothers, sending them into spins of their own.

The still viable ships went on the attack, firing as the jumper dodged.  Sheppard zoomed in close to a disabled ship and could see the pirates behind the windshield, gesturing angrily.  He cut close, and dove blindly around the destruction, the HUD pointing out the safe route through the jetsam.

The chasing ships weren’t so endowed, and when they came about, they ran into the field of floating bits, sending them dodging to avoid it, and smack into each other.  They clashed, shield to shield, and went all wobbly.  Two more drones took out ships that faced him.

Through the commotion, the Ironspot threaded its way.

And, the Ironspot’s terrible weapon still continued its course, sending more Bogachiel ships floundering to get away from it. Sheppard caught a good look at the bomb as he flew through the group, doing the best he could to further scatter the ships.  He let out a short laugh as he recognized the missile – brown with white stitching, imprinted with a white “Wilson”, the football spiraled through space toward the unknown.

He took off after the Ironspot as the remaining Bogachiel fleet tried to unravel itself from the chaos.  He chased down his companions, quickly overtaking them and making a beeline to the Gate.  The remaining whirling Bogachiel ships regrouped and took off after them.

“You will stop!” Ostego shouted.

“We will not,” Sheppard uttered in return, a little sorry that they hadn’t managed to take out the leader.

John realized that they’d been able to get some distance behind them.  Yes!  They were going to make it!  Sheppard, pressing the jumper to quicker speeds, reached over the DHD and started punching in the address of P7M-557.  He wasn’t about to lead the Bogachiel to Atlantis.

Success was in their grasp.  He pressed in the last key and held his breath, awaiting the formation of the wormhole.

Nothing happened.   “Son of a…!” he cried, looking in disbelief at the DHD.

No…no… no!

Goddamn scientists and their goddamn overcautious fears that DHDs wouldn’t work when hit just ONCE with a football.   Damn it!  He’d never live this down – if they lived through this.

He glanced back to Rodney, hoping he didn’t witness this failure, even as he wished he’d see his friend sitting up and laughing at him.

“Ironspot!” he called over the radio.  “Dial it!”

With a sigh of relief, Sheppard watched as the chevrons lit, and a blue whoosh came over the Gate.  “Here we go, Rodney,” he declared, glancing to the Life Sign Detector for assurance as the wormhole formed.  He let out a sigh of relief as his jumper dove through the Gate with the Ironspot behind him.

He shot through, screaming the jumper through the atmosphere of P7M-557.  The wormhole closed almost instantly, shutting out their pursuers. 

John’s grin grew all the wider.   “Made it!” he declared.  “We made it!”  John let loose a breath, surprised at how calming… how nice it was to hear the jumper again.  He’d missed the sound of it flying through the air and enjoyed the roar of the Ironspot.

He brought the jumper around slowly, watching below as the group of scientists and Marines came out of the cover of the trees.  The group looked up with curiosity.  They made faces at the strange ship that came alongside him, engines racing.

Sheppard nodded across to Teyla and Ronon, glad to see that they'd made it.

It was time to go home.  He took another moment to glance back at his cargo.  Just to make himself feel better, he picked up his Life Sign Detector one more time to make sure that Rodney was still with him.

His heart skipped a beat when only one dot was displayed.


PART 19:  SPITE

“Rodney!”  There was no response… nothing.  God, no!  John wanted to jump out of his seat and go to his friend, do everything he could to revive him, but they were still in flight.  He had two choices… go through the Gate and wait through the landing process -- or land on a planet with minimal medical help.  There was a medic, wasn't there?  Was that enough?

“Damn it!  Damn it!”   Over the radio, he barked,  “Ironspot, Dial Atlantis!”

On the ground below, scientists gathered, looking up at them. 

“You stupid, asshole!”  Sheppard growled as he glanced back at McKay’s form, under all those blankets.  “You’re just doing this to spite me, aren’t you, McKay!”

One dot on the life signs detector… still only one dot.  “Not now,” Sheppard wibbled.  “Not when we’re so damn close!”  And he gave his DHD a disgruntled smack as the Gate lit up under the Ironspot’s direction.  "No...no..."

“Colonel, what sort of ship did ya bring with you?  I’ve never seen the like before.”

The familiar Scottish brogue coming through the radio almost brought tears to Sheppard’s eyes.  “Carson!” he cried.  “Thank God.”  It would take too long to get the jumper through the gate and into the jumper bay where they could finally get help.  Rodney was dying.  They had only seconds, and the best doctor in the galaxy was standing beneath him – Sheppard was never one to pass up an opportunity.

“Beckett, you’re coming with me, NOW!”

“Am I then?”  Carson replied.  “Right!”  Sheppard could see the doctor running through the clearing, obviously trying to find a place to meet up with the jumper once it landed.  God, how he loved Beckett.  No talking back – the man just understood, and came running.

“Rodney’s heart’s stopped,” Sheppard explained urgently as the wormhole whooshed to life, and he brought the jumper down fast, landing it with one hell of a thump, and John opened the hatch.  “Second ago.  It’s only been seconds.”

Over the radio, Teyla said only, “John…” .

The doctor was running to him, medical gear in hand, leaping into the back of the jumper before the rear hatch was fully opened.  One of his nurses was right behind him, carrying whatever gear she could lay her hands on.

“Doc, am I ever glad to see you!” Sheppard exclaimed.

“Corporal Dunne had a bit of an accident,” Beckett explained breathlessly as he came in.  “Broke his leg.  I was setting it and…Good God in heaven.”

Carson started yelling orders as he felt for Rodney’s pulse.  Sheppard tried to move from his seat to start artificial respiration, but a medic had come in as well.  Between Beckett, Maria and Deroche, they had McKay surrounded – breathing for him, trying to start his heart.

A couple of Marines came in as well, ready to add whatever assistance they could, crowding the rear of the jumper.  Outside, the Ironspot roared as it came down, landing roughly nearby.

“Shot.  He got shot…” Sheppard explained as Beckett worked.

The medic breathed for Rodney.  Beckett went back to compressions as Deroche moved out of his way.

“Colonel Sheppard?  Ronon?”  Weir’s voice came over the radio.  “We received Ronon’s IDC and nothing more.   Is there a problem?”

“Hell of a problem,” Sheppard muttered unhappily.

Beckett replied for him, calling out orders, telling his staff what they needed, what to have ready. His voice was steady as he exerted himself.

As Beckett spoke to Weir, Sheppard called softly,  “Come on, Rodney.  Don’t be an ass!  You’re really fucking up my day.”

Beckett’s gaze flicked up at him, understanding the exclamation.  “Get us back, John,” he ordered the colonel.  “Get us back.”

“Hang on!” Ronon called from just outside the door.  He raced up the ramp, with Rix slung over his shoulder and Teyla right behind him.

Sheppard opened his mouth to counter Ronon’s decision to bring the pirate along, but Dex was already settling the unresponsive Mills on one of the bench seats.

“Go,” Ronon declared.

Teyla stood just inside the doorway, finding what little room was left.  The hatch nearly slapped her rear as it came up.  Her solemn gaze switched from McKay, being worked over by three people, to Ronon, who seemed unusually gentle with his handling of Rix, to Sheppard as he fired up the ship.

Without another word, Sheppard lifted the jumper from the ground and sent it toward the open Gate, “Atlantis,” he called, “this is Sheppard.  We’re coming in.”

Beckett kept rattling off what he needed from his staff.  Maria was ripping at the Velcro on the defibrillator.  It started to whine.

--------------------------

The return to Atlantis was chaotic.  Beckett had managed to restart Rodney’s heart on the short journey from the gateroom to the bay, a victory for everyone.

Rodney was breathing on his own, still looking as sick as hell.  The tension didn’t ease from John’s back and he felt as if he might break the controls as he waited for the automatic system to bring the jumper to a rest.

The heart monitor bleeped, but John picked up the Life Sign Detector and carefully counted the dots, ensuring that there was one for each of them.

Beckett hissed empathetically as he pulled back the dressing from the wound.  “How long?” he asked.  “How long ago was he shot?”

Sheppard looked at him, bleary eyed, unable to even comprehend the question.  How much time had passed? He had no idea exactly.  It wasn’t that long, all things considered.  It only seemed like a lifetime.

“He was trapped.  We couldn’t reach him,” John responded.  His voice tight and remarkably even.

“Got to him as quick as we could,” Ronon stated defiantly.

“We did good work,” Teyla added.  “We all did.” She even glanced to Rix, who was motionless and pale, with Ronon standing protectively above him.  The Bogachiel had saved them during the explosion, and his complete unresponsiveness had frightened them once they landed the Ironspot.

Beckett watched the heart monitor, his face drawn, but hopeful now.  He smiled, but only slightly.  “Hang in there, Rodney,” he said softly.  The monitor kept beeping.  “That’s right, you daft man, I know you don’t give up on anything.”

“He is obstinate,” Teyla added.

“Aye, that he is,” Carson said, his smile growing as the monitor continued to return good news. “A mulish man, if there ever was one.”  Beckett’s face dropped as he regarded the result as Maria took Rodney’s blood pressure.

The doctor started an IV, handing the bag of fluid to Sgt. Wilmington to hold.  The Marine had been standing stiffly beside the group, and looked relieved to have something to do, even if it meant he’d simply be acting as an IV stand.

Beckett looked up to see how much longer they had before the jumper came to a stop in the bay, and then turned to see the others in the ship.  His gaze lit on Rix. “What’s happened to him then?” he asked, curiously.

“Hit his head a while back,” Ronon replied, “Seemed okay, just a little… confused.  When we landed, he was slumped over.  Can’t wake him.”

“We’ll take a look at him,” Beckett promised.  “See what can be done to put him right.”

Ronon nodded in response.

The jumper finally came to a halt in the bay.  John lifted the hatch, and a gurney came up the ramp.  Beckett was shouting instructions again, ordering another gurney, giving directives over the radio to those waiting for them in the infirmary.

John did nothing as the medical unit swarmed in, collected Rodney and all the stuff that was attached to him, then they swarmed back out.  The gurney wibble-wobbled through the open space of the jumperbay at their rapid exit.  Beckett ran alongside, with Maria, Deroche and Wilmington who still played the part of IV stand.

Ronon waited a moment, and seeing that the second gurney hadn’t yet arrived, picked up Rix, carefully slung him over the shoulder, and went after the others.

Sheppard hoped the other gurney caught up with them – Ronon’s carrying method was hardly the best way to transport a man with a head injury.

And then the once crowded jumper was almost empty again.  Just wrappers and the abandoned defibrillator was left – and the torn, bloody shirt that they’d cut off Rodney.  Sheppard gazed at the mess, feeling ineffectual, as if he’d managed to do nearly nothing during all of this.

“John,” Teyla called softly, drawing his attention.

“Yeah,” he drawled in return.  “I suppose you’re going to tell me that I did the best I could and that we got him back here in time.  You’re going to tell me that Beckett’s the best and that Rodney’s going to be okay.  Everything is going to be just fine, right?”

She smiled at him, but there was a tightness around her eyes.  “I was going to tell you that I was frightened,” she admitted.  “I was going to tell you that I was so scared.”

Sheppard sighed, and for a moment neither did anything, simply standing together in the rear of the jumper.  Finally, Sheppard stooped to pick up his pack. 

“Come on,” he said with a smile as he slung the bag over his shoulder.  “Let’s see if McKay is giving the nurses any grief yet.”  And together they exited the jumper. 

--------------------------

He remembered the stars.  He dreamed of them, dreamed of floating among them.  It was a sweet sensation, and as he drifted.  He never wanted to leave them.  He was floating among the stars, knowing everything there was to know about them, yet finding them fresh and new and perfect.

It was a lovely dream.

But things started to change.  First of all, there was an irritating beeping that crept into his consciousness, the sharp smell of antiseptics, a dull pain, then the buzzing of voices – sometimes very near him.  People seemed to be talking to him, and he should have been irritated by it.  He should have been annoyed by the voices that were breaking into his perfect dream of space.  He should have blotted them out to allow his flight to continue – but instead he found himself drawn to the sounds, listening intently, trying to define exactly what was being said.

At first it was just a muddled mess, but after a time he was able to pick out bits of the conversation.

“It’s a television program.  You remember what I told you about television programs, right?”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine.  Okay, so it’s this show where this bunch of guys break into another guy’s house, mess up his stuff, throw all his furniture and clothing in the trash.  Then they make him wear weird-ass clothing, shave him, force him to cook for others, then put him on display to his friends and family.”

There was a feral growl and, “It is a demonstration of utter humiliation.”

“Did I mention that they were gay?”

“The guy was happy about what they did to him?”

“No… no.  Well, maybe he was by the end.  I think it was just the Stockholm Syndrome at work, so… I don’t get it anyway.”

“And you watched this television program?”

“I was kinda forced to.  Wasn’t my idea.”

“Who forced you to view this… program.”

“My girlfriend… yeah, yeah, don’t say it.”

He wanted to laugh, but just couldn’t find the strength to do so.  God, he was pathetic.

“Hey, is he waking up?  McKay?”

“He was breathing different.”

“Rodney?  You in there, buddy?”

“Maybe just dreaming.”

“Yeah… wish he’d just give it up and WAKE UP!”

“Let him sleep.”  Something patted him rather roughly on the leg.  “Been through enough.”

"He's doing this purposefully.  I bet he's just listening."

"Sure."

“He’s a pain in the ass, you know that?  You hear that, McKay?  I got things I could be doing.”

Someone snorted a laugh.  “Yeah… I’m sure you do…”

The voices grew fuzzy.  The words became disconnected from their meaning, and he drifted for a while after that.  He was back with the stars – pinpoints of light so bright, they almost hurt his eyes.  And he drifted, detached and numb.  He loved the stars.

Words became clearer again, less of a buzzing – more meaning.  Pain thudded, but the voices drew him back to reality – he wanted to come.  The stars were lovely, but he longed for the contact.

“Are you still here then, lass?”

“I wanted to ensure that he was not alone when he awoke. He spent too much time alone.”

“Ah yes.  A pity it couldn’t have been different.  But he’s back with us.  I’m sure that you and the others are doin’ him a world of good.”  A pause, and “And how are you?”

“Better, now that he’s better.”

“That he is.”  There was soft whoosh of a seat gaining an occupant.

“He did not want to leave me. When we parted, just before he was hurt, he was anxious about leaving me alone.”  There was a quiet moment.

“Ah, but that’s not your fault.”

“I should have gone with him.”

“Because if you had, he wouldn’t ‘ave gotten hurt?”

“There is a good chance.”

“And you could've been hurt as well.”

“In all honestly, that does not make me feel better.”

“Aye, I suppose it wouldn’t.”  There was a sigh.  “But you know, there’s nothing to be done about it now.  You know he’s not offerin’ you any blame.”

“He would not.”

“Just remember that.  He’ll bear you no ill will.  It was his choice to go alone, so more than likely, he’ll just blame himself for what happened.”

A soft sigh.  “He is that way.  I wish…”

“If wishes were horses… ah, nevermind.”

He wondered if that strange pirate had a similar expression and he wondered what the phrase might sound like.  What happened to that pirate?  He couldn't remember.

It seemed that everything had gone to hell on him.  He’d made poor choices, that was certain.  So stupid—getting shot and climbing all that way – and he lost something – something important.  And he remembered the explosion of the station – and the others…

“Rodney?”  the voice sounded concerned.

“He’s waking.  Are you there, Rodney?  Come on now.  Just open your eyes for a peek.  Just want to see how you’re doin’.”

Someone touched his arm.  It was warm – it was comforting.  He realized that he was warm again, and it was a wonderful sensation.

“Rodney?  You there, lad?”

He wanted to answer, but he was so tired.

“Apparently, he wishes to sleep still.”  There was a smile in the voice.

“So it seems.  Well, we’ll let him be for a bit longer.  You hear that, Rodney?”

“We will wait for you, Rodney.”

“Yes, lad.  I’ll let it go for now, but next time you’re gonna do what I ask.”

There was a little laugh, and it made him feel good to hear it.  “Do you honestly believe he will do as you ask him?”

A chuckle.  “Ach, a man can dream.”

And he slept again, his dreams full of stars and warm conversations.

PART 20: JELLO CUPS

“Hey?” a voice hissed.  “You… you awake?”  The voice was just barely familiar. Someone he’d met somewhere… but where?  Not sure… nope…. Not entirely sure.

“Rodney… you awake, huh?”  It was someone was entirely too peppy to be part of the expedition.  “I think you’re awake… are you?  ‘Cause I’m tired of talking to myself.  Can you wake up?  Come on…” the voice took on a whine.

But Rodney was still tired.  He ached.  He just wanted to sleep.

“Aw…” the voice sighed.

Then something struck him with a CLOP, right in the middle of his forehead.  Eyes shot open, and Rodney stared, blurrily, at the ceiling of the infirmary.  “What… what was that?” he groaned.

“You’re awake!  Great!” the voice proclaimed in a loud whisper.  “Hey!  How you feelin’?”

His side hurt. He felt all musty and fuzzy.  He ran his tongue over his teeth as he looked around, first to his right, noting an empty bed – its blankets all mussed about.  He turned to the left and spotted Ronon, splayed out and asleep in a chair beside him -- his mop of hair at eye level.

Must be nice to never have to comb it, Rodney mused.  That’s why he kept his own hair short – just swipe with the comb and he was done.

He paused, not sure what to make of the situation. The voice hadn’t sounded like Ronon’s.

“Hey! Don’t wake him up!”

Rodney lifted his gaze, taking in the speaker -- the occupant of the other bed.  It was that redheaded pirate.  What was his name?

“It’s me… Rix!  Rix Mills!”

“I know that!” Rodney’s voice came out a little rough.  “What did you throw at me?”

“Oh… a jello cup.”

“You threw a jello cup at me.”

“Hey, it was empty! I wouldn’t dump a douser.”

“Why are people always throwing things at me?” Rodney asked with a despairing groan.

“I dunno.  Maybe you make a good target?”

“It was a rhetorical question!”

Rodney squinted as his vision came clearer.  The pirate was sitting up in the next bed, propped up by several pillows and a dinner tray sat before him.

“Do you know where I can get more of this?” Rix asked, pointing into an empty Jello container.  “They cut me off at seven.”

McKay frowned at Rix’s getup.  “What happened to your head?” he asked, finding his throat dry when put to the task.

“Oh…I hit it,” Rix responded, running a finger around the inside of the Jello cup, hoping for more.  “Don’t remember much of that,” he stated as he frowned at the emptiness of the plastic container.

Rodney squinted at him.  “What’s with the bandana on your head?”

“Bandana?” Rix said, stumbling slightly over the word – obviously, it was new to him.  He gave the knot on the festive red cloth a tug as he gave up on the Jello cup.  “Maria got it for me,” he said proudly.  “She’s pretty.  Not as pretty as Teyla, but awful nice.”

“Yeah…” Rodney responded, regarding the man narrowly.  Jeez, I must be out of it.

“I told her that I didn’t like the way the bandage looked on my head, I mean – it was all white, and they cut my hair back a bit.  Wasn’t nice to look at.  So she found this to cover it up.  Teyla found the black eye-patch.  I like it.  Carson says my sight should come back in that eye, but thought I should keep it covered until then.”

“Hey, how’d you manage to bean me with that jello cup if you have no depth perception?” McKay inquired.

Rix shrugged.  “I had six tries,” he stated.  “One of ‘em had to hit something.”

“My head!”

With a chagrinned look, Rix admitted.  “I was kinda aiming for your chest – or anything.  You make a good target.  I figured I had a chance… eventually.”

Rodney looked about, finding empty jello cups surrounding him.  He batted one to the ground, muttering, “Great… just great.”

Rix’s expression became bleak as he said, “But that’s just it, isn’t it?  I don’t know what I’ll do if my sight doesn’t come back.  I can’t be a pilot if I don’t have two working eyes.”

“Carson said it’ll come back?”

Rix nodded.

“Then it will,” Rodney snapped.

Relief washed over the Bogachiel, until he said, “I don’t even know where the Ironspot is.”

Rodney frowned as he tried to remember.  The last time he’d seen it, the Ironspot had been situated, fixed but untested, in the gateship bay.  “I take it, it’s not on the space station anymore?”

“Oh, the space station blew up.  MAATAUW!  Big explosion.”  He stopped talking suddenly, aware that his exclamation may have awakened the Satedan.  He let out a sigh of relief as Ronon continued to slumber.

“Ah yes.  How could I forget?  And the Ironspot?” Rodney asked.  “It… was operational?  Yes, yes… of course it was.  I fixed it.”

“Oh yeah, I flew it right off.  ‘Course, it was Teyla who flew it afterward.”

“Teyla flew the Ironspot?  How…”

“Oh, she’s smart as a sido.  She even used the crane.  I think I love her,” Rix admitted, his face going all soft in contemplation of the Athosian.

“Oh….okay,” Rodney returned with trepidation.

Rix pointed to the eye patch and said again, “She gave me this!”

McKay gave a lopsided grin, imagining how Teyla might accept this pirate admirer.  “The eye-patch, the bandana…. It’s all very fitting,” McKay told him.  “Yeah, you have a good look going.  All you need now is a parrot.”

“A parrot?”

“A bird.  A talking bird that repeats everything.”

“Repeats everything?”

“Yeah. You’ll need that, and a peg-leg or a hook.”

“Really?”  Rix frowned, wondering about this statement.

As Rix pondered, Rodney regarded Ronon again, seeing that the man appeared well.  Rodney tried to remember about the others.  He could half-recall hearing them speak, but it could have been just his drugged mind making up scenarios.  He frowned, wondering about that.  His mind, after all, was quite active and capable of offering him exactly what he wanted.

He cleared his throat and asked, “Teyla, so… she’s okay?”

“Oh, she’s fine. She’s better than fine.  She sure is pretty!”

“And the colonel?” Rodney went on.  “Have you seen him?”

“You mean ‘John’?”

“Yeah,” Rodney responded.

“Oh, sure.  He’s fine,” Rix brushed off the question.  “He’s been here a lot.  At least one of your friends is always here.”  He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Didja know Ronon got into Zeno’s spacesuit?”

“Spacesuit?  Him?”  Rodney said, surprise in his voice.

“Yeah.  Went outside the ship and everything.”

“When?  Why?”

“To get you out of that dome.  You locked yourself up good.  Yeah, I don’t think he liked doing it though.”

“Huh, imagine that.”

“Carson comes ‘round here a lot.  He’s hard to understand sometimes.  Talks funny, like a rook in a cote, you know?”

“Yeah…” McKay responded, not wanting to know.

“Been other folks, too.  I can’t keep track.  I’ve been sleeping a lot.”  He touched his head.  “I hit my head.  Did I tell you that?”

“Yes, you did,” McKay replied unpleasantly, and then added with false casualness,  “So, we all made it home safely.”

“Well, there’s you and me that got tangled.”  Rix went silent for a moment. “But, Wortley and Zeno…” he said their names softly.  “They didn’t make it.”

Rodney tried to remember.  The name ‘Zeno’ was familiar, but 'Wortley' was lost on him.  He’d always been horrible with names, and this just proved the fact.  Zeno, he recalled suddenly, wasn’t that great a guy.  And if Wortley was the woman who’d shot him (and what kind of name was 'Wortley' for a woman?) … well, she wasn’t nice at all.

Rix opened his mouth as if to say something, but shut it instantly as Ronon made a grumbling sound and tried to rearrange himself on the too-small chair.  Mills sunk into his pillows, looking warily at the big man until he settled again.

Once he was sure that Dex wasn’t going to open his eyes, Rix whispered, “Don’t wake him.”

“Why not?”

“He scares me.”

“Ronon?” McKay returned, ignoring the fact that the man’s face twitched at the sound of his name.

“He doesn’t like me,” Rix said.

Rodney turned his head slowly, looking to the empty bed on his right, and swiveling back to take in the uncomfortable looking Sadetan, slumped down in a chair that was far too small for him.

Rix went on, “He’s guarding me…”

“If he was guarding you, he’d be awake.”

“I don’t know.”

“There’s probably a guard outside the door if that makes you feel better.”

“He wanted to kill me.”

“Aw, he’s a pushover.”

“Pushover?” Ronon growled and he sat up stiffly, rubbing his head as he turned to McKay.

“Ah… pushover… it means… you like to push things over… a lot…” McKay backpedaled.

Rix nodded, as if he knew this, and Ronon just gave Rix a narrow look, but quickly returned to McKay.  “You’re awake.”

“Yes, yes… awake.  That’s evident, isn’t it?” McKay snapped, trying to cross his arms over his chest, but getting tangled in the IV lines.

“Good to see that,” Ronon stated.  He frowned, not knowing what to say next. He glanced to Rix, wondering of the talkative pirate would fill the gap, but the Bogachiel had leaned back in his pillows and was apparently feigning sleep to avoid any confrontation with the Satedan.  Ronon chuckled softly.

“So you find this awful funny, do you?” McKay groused as he gave up and let his arms drop beside him.

The comment brought Ronon’s attention back to McKay, seeing how pale the man was, noting the tightness of his expression.  IV bags still hung around the man’s bed.

There’d been a commotion upon their return.  McKay had been taken away at first to be worked on by Beckett and his crew, then brought to this bed.  Beckett had spent a lot of time fretting over things around McKay’s bedside.  Ronon didn’t understand any of the terms that were thrown around.  He just felt the palpable fear that clung to this space for too long.

The fear eased – every time Beckett came back and checked on McKay, the concern seemed to lessen, until this calmness descended.  Then, Beckett said, “He’s gonna be fine.  Just a matter of time ‘til he wakes.”

But the monitors still monitored, and the IV’s still dripped their concoctions into McKay to make him ‘better’.  Ronon hated the whole set up – but he had to admit, he liked the results, and he had great admiration for the doctor.

“I asked you if you thought this was funny?” McKay asked again, pettishly.

“Funny?  Not really,” Dex responded truthfully.  Even Rix had scared him, when Beckett said that they might need to drill into the man’s skull if there were further sign of brain swelling – but that seemed to right itself, and Rix had been sleeping and waking for the past day.  He often awoke in a panic, not knowing where he was or how he got there.

In all, it hadn’t been a good time for any of them.  “Not funny at all,” Ronon repeated.

McKay seemed to relax a little, grimacing as he tried to get comfortable.

Ronon’s forehead creased as he realized something.  “Why do you have all those jello cups all…”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” McKay said, giving one of the cups a kick.  He grimaced at the movement, and swore softly under his breath.

“Feel like shit, huh?” Ronon asked, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Well, yes!  I’m not feeling great.” McKay rustled about, making faces as he failed to find a comfortable position, only making matters worse.  He sucked in a breath and groaned, then raised his gaze to meet Ronon’s, asking hopefully, “Think I can get some of the good drugs?”

Ronon pressed himself upright, looking happy to have something to do – other than being forced to just sit and converse.  “I’ll get Beckett,” he declared.

“Hey, are Teyla and the colonel are okay?” Rodney asked quickly, needing to verify the information – because Rix could be wrong – you know, head wound and everything.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Ronon confirmed. He stood a moment longer, meeting Rodney’s gaze to ensure McKay had heard him.  “We’re fine.”  Then he turned and sauntered off to find someone.

“Think you can find me some jello, too?” McKay called after him.  “Some cups with jello actually in them?”

Ronon kept moving, making no sign that he’d heard.

Rodney was about to repeat his request when he heard Sheppard call out, “Look who’s up!” as he strode into the room.

A grin lit the colonel’s face as he moved past the mostly empty beds.  The only other patient was Cpl. Dunne, asleep and sporting a long cast on one leg.

Sheppard passed Ronon on his way through the infirmary, and the two exchanged a glance, before Sheppard continued on his way toward Rodney.  Ronon went in search of someone to harass.

“Colonel,” McKay declared, hiding a yawn.  “It’s a bit past your bedtime, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, well,” Sheppard drawled as he sat on the empty bed at Rodney’s right.  “Figured I’d check up on you.  How’s it going?”

Rodney directed a thumb in the direction Ronon had disappeared.  “Ronon’s getting the drugs,” he responded.

“Gotcha.  And, ah, what’s with the empty jello cups?”

“Would you forget about the jello?  One-eyed Pete was using me for target practice!”  McKay sniped as he kicked a couple more cups off the bed.

Sheppard smiled then, a little wickedly, as he leaned forward and snagged something from the little bedside table.  “If you’re going to get strung out, then you won’t be wanting to see this, I guess.”  He held up a device.

“A laptop,” Rodney confirmed, annoyed.

“Your laptop,” Sheppard said, handing it over.

With a curious expression, Rodney reached out one hand to grasp the computer, surprised at how heavy it felt.  His arm had no strength.

“Careful,” Sheppard chided.  “You don’t want to drop this one.”

“It’s not mine,” McKay shot back, pulling it into his lap.  “Mine had black stuff on this side, and the cover was scratched to hell.”

Sheppard didn’t want to think of what else had been on the laptop when they retrieved it.  “We had to clone your last one.  You really should play nicer with your toys.  We’re going to have to take them away from you if you don’t treat them better.”

Rodney frowned, turning the new laptop over in his hand, not understanding.  His expression fell as he remembered dropping it… he’d dropped it down that shaft, the central core… he couldn’t hold onto it and climb.

Then it dawned on him.  He lifted his gaze, his face framed with a silly smile.  “The data from the supernova?  Is it here?  Did you save it?  Is it verifiable?  Is it all here?”

“How the hell should I know?” Sheppard retorted as he stretched out on the spare bed.

Rodney smiled, and cracked open the computer, booting it up as he leaned back in his bed.  He yawned, widely.  As he pulled up the data, Rodney grinned and glanced to Sheppard.  “Oh, this is good…”

John yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth, as he watched McKay fiddle with the laptop, tip-tapping his way through the supernova.  The physicist was almost salivating.

“Incredible,” Rodney said in a hushed voice.  “Amazing!” He studied the data a moment then lifted his head, explaining an excited, “OH!  I just remembered!”

“What?”

“The… the… ZPM?”  McKay moved one hand animatedly as held the laptop in place.

“Oh yeah… that.”  Sheppard grimaced a bit.  “Not much power left in it,” he explained.  “Pretty near depleted.”

“Oh…” the word had a deflated quality to it this time.  "Seems that's always the case."

“That space station was on its last legs.  It wouldn’t have lasted too much longer.  Might be enough power left on the thing to run a couple toasters.”

“Oh,” Rodney said again, and turned back to the laptop, looking tired and spent.

“Still,” Sheppard added.  “I like toast.  I’m sure we could use a lot of toast around here.”

“Hmmph,” McKay muttered, turning his attention back to the display.  “I take it, the entire science staff has been over this information already, right?”

“Nope,” Sheppard said, popping the word as he spoke it.  “Cloned it and left it to you.”

That brought the smile back to the scientist as he settled in with the laptop, data scrolling over the screen, lighting his face.  “You think…” he started, and then paused to yawn, “you think the reason Rix was so concerned about this data was because of their pirating activities?”

Sheppard cocked his head, giving the sleeping Bogachiel a glance.  “Yeah, probably thought that the station recorded their comings and goings.  Might have caught them sailing their schooners into port with their Jolly Rodger flying, lowerin’ their mainsails, and toting in their chests full of doubloons.”

McKay nodded, closed his eyes for a moment, and then fluttered them open again.  “Don’t think it captured any of that.  The system was too concerned with recording the supernova data to be detailing what was going on at the docks and under decks.”

“I wonder how much stuff they had piled up in that room,” Sheppard contemplated, wishing he’d had a chance to see the treasure room.  He’d been there when the cache on PX1-H0H was found, and the boys in the science labs were still going through the crystals and devices that were secreted there – the gold and jewels from that previous treasure trove were kept under lock-and-key somewhere in the city, in case such booty was ever needed in a trade.

“Yeah,” McKay said with a wide yawn.  “Wish I’d had the time to check it out.  Too bad you weren’t able to get the loot out before you got the station blown up.”

“What?  Me?”  Sheppard exclaimed.

“You could have calmed down Warty.”

“Wortley… and you’re the one who trapped her in an airless compartment.”

“Oh… yeah… I guess I did do that.”  His head dipped and bounced back up, bobblehead-like.  “Still, too bad, huh?”

Eyes narrowed, as Rodney watched the information flash past.  Minutes passed, and slowly the eyes closed, fingers relaxed.

By the time Ronon came back with a rumpled-looking Beckett and a cup of jello in each hand, Rodney’s chin was on his chest and his hands were at his side.

Sheppard stood, and relieved Rodney of the laptop.   He’d take it back to Rodney’s quarters as an incentive to get better quickly.  Plus, it could always be used to bribe the scientist into behaving himself if he offered Beckett any trouble – be a good boy, and we’ll bring it back.

“He was awake and talking?” Beckett verified as he took the chair by the bedside, and took Rodney’s blood pressure one more time.

“Yeah,” Ronon told him, as he dumped the jellos on Rix’s handy dinner tray.  “Talked a lot.”

Beckett made a satisfied sound as he took his reading.  And he gave Rodney a little pat on the arm as he released the cuff.  “Good lad, Rodney,” he said softly. The doctor checked on the IV’s, adjusting them, humming.

“So,” Sheppard tried.  “It’s all good?”

“Aye, it looks like he’s gonna be just fine.” Carson cocked his head and added, “So, now that you know that, you boys can go on to bed now.  No need to be hangin’ around here all night.  He’s seen you.”

“I’ll stay,” Sheppard volunteered, getting comfortable on the bed.  “Ronon, your shift’s over.  Might as well head to your quarters.”

Ronon stretched his shoulders, shrugging one and then the other.  “Yeah, probably should.  Teyla will be back in the morning,” he reminded Sheppard.

“Yeah, we’ll double team him,” Sheppard replied.  “So you might as well scram.”

Ronon nodded and pressed a hand to McKay’s shoulder before he turned, lumbering out of the room without another word.

Beckett watched Sheppard for a moment longer, considering dismissing the colonel as well, but thought better of it.  “See you in the mornin’,” he declared and turned back to his room.  He passed Claire, the nurse on duty, as he moved through the infirmary.

He realized that Ronon could have just as easily summoned her instead of getting him out of bed, and he chuckled at Ronon’s single-mindedness.

Claire gave him a curious look, looking as if she wanted to ask about his well-being.  He waved her off and she returned to her book.

Meanwhile, Sheppard stowed the laptop in the table.  He figured a sick man deserved something to brighten his day.  On the other side of the bed, one green eye opened and Rix stared back at him.

“So…” Mills started softly.  “When’s Teyla getting here?  Oooo!  Jello!”

Sheppard shook his head, chuckling softly.  “Go to sleep, Rix,” he ordered and decided to get some sleep himself.


PART 21:  WEASEL

“Hey,” Sheppard called as he caught up to McKay in the hallway.

“Hey, yourself,” McKay returned with a smile that soon dropped to a frown.  “Aren’t you coming along to check out the Ironspot?” He gestured to Sheppard’s off duty attire.

“Didn’t Beckett want you to stay in your quarters for the next few days?”

“Well yes… but…”

“You had your laptop to play with and everything.”

McKay harrumphed and stated, “They have a team working at the Ironspot.  I thought I could provide some valuable insight into how the systems operated together.  After all, I’ve already been through the ship.  I’m sure my knowledge will prove to be a valuable asset.  I’ll just offer advice.  No need to exert myself.” He smiled smugly.

“Yeah, I can see that happening,” Sheppard responded, watching his friend.

“I mean, it’s not that much different from just sitting in my room, right?”

“Right.  Because you wouldn’t be resting there either.”

McKay looked perplexed.  “There’s so much to do.”

“But you shouldn’t be on your feet and you shouldn’t be crawling under consoles or poking around at those crystals.”

“I’ll find a place to sit and… supervise.”

“I’m sure they’ll love that.”

McKay was looking much better.  He’d done well in his recovery from the near-exsanguination.  The wound was healing and a slight infection was quickly quenched, but he was still a little pale and wobbly.

He should have been in bed, being careful of his wound, keeping still.  But, the infirmary would only hold him for so long, and the marvels of the supernova data could wait.  Other scientists were running their hands over the Ironspot and were getting ahead of him in the knowledge learned from the hybridization.  The physicist could hardly let that happen.

“Since I am the only person who’s worked on the system previously, it’s only logical that I add my knowledge.  Obviously there are things I know that they haven’t yet discovered.”  McKay paused, regarding Sheppard’s expression. 

The colonel knew something he didn’t.

Rodney contemplated, and then damned himself for not thinking of it sooner. “Rix…” he finally stated.  “They’re sending Rix out there to offer some help, aren’t they?”

Sheppard sighed, rubbing the back of his head.  “Well, he is the pilot for that ship and knows what all the controls do.  They considered sending Teyla, too, since she’d flown the ship, but she figured Rix could handle it.”

“Oh.”  Looking a little crestfallen, Rodney leaned one shoulder against the wall and sighed.  “So… he managed to weasel his way out there already.”

“His eyesight cleared up.  Seems he recovered okay.”

“Great,” McKay sighed, looking disheartened.  The paleness that plagued him seemed to be back, along with the horrible weariness.   “Great,” he said again, then with a sigh added,  “Did he show them any surprises?”

“Yeah, a surprise or two.”  Sheppard chuckled, and let McKay know, “Your boys found a secret compartment at the back of the Ironspot, loaded with …plunder.”

To that, McKay snorted, and winced at the movement.  “What?  The little sneak was smart enough to put away some of the booty for himself?”

Sheppard shrugged.  “Looks like it.  There was gold, sparkly things, and some Ancient Tech.”

“Really?”  McKay’s eyes gleamed at that thought.  “So some of it was saved?  It all didn’t go MAATAUW with the space station?”

Sheppard gave him a strange look at the use of onomatopoeia, but went on, “Looked like Rix had been stashing away bits and pieces for a while.  Did you know that those three people were on that station for almost a year, guarding that treasure?”

“A year?” McKay echoed as he leaned.

“Yeah, kind of a crappy assignment.”

“No wonder they wanted to find a way off that place.”  McKay looked unsettled as he stated, “They had nothing to eat but tava meal?”

“They had other stuff at first, but it ran out over time.  Whoever left them there as guards didn’t plan ahead.”

“Or just didn’t care about who they left behind.”

“Apparently,” Sheppard went on, “those three came up with a plan for us to fix their ship.   Rix and Zeno kept their eyes on us while Wortley guarded the treasure.  Then, after we’d left, they’d empty the treasure trove and take off before the rest of the Bogachiel found out.”

McKay nodded.  “And Rix, looking out for himself, managed to secret away a cache of his own.  Hmmm.  Not as dumb as he seems.”

“Yeah…about that.”  Sheppard looked uncertain, sucking at his teeth a moment.

“Go on…” McKay said impatiently, fiddling a hand at him.  “What?”

Sheppard continued, somewhat abashedly, “Zelenka and your boys wanted to cart the spoils away for study, but Lorne thought it would be advantageous to leave it where it was, and mess with Rix when he got out there.  You know, see how much Rix knew about the cache by gauging his reaction when it was revealed.  Lorne wanted Zelenka’s guys to pretend to find the compartment and open it, acting all innocent and surprised.”

McKay frowned, seeming to press more of his weight against the hallway.  “Why do I feel I’m not going to like the rest of this story?”

Sheppard sighed, jamming his hands into his pockets.  “Lorne and his guys brought Rix out there.  They got him on the ship and… the next thing he knew, Lorne was waking up in the grass with Zelenka’s head on his chest.”

“What?”

“They were all out of it.  There was about six people altogether, not many.  Guess they wanted to keep Rix’s ‘visit’ on the QT.”

“Wait a minute… wait a minute.  Everyone was knocked out?”  McKay’s expression fell.  “The Ironspot…”

“Gone,” Sheppard said sadly.  “They don’t know how he did it, but a couple minutes after Rix got on that ship, he must have set off something.”

“And took the ship.”

“Yeah.  Dialed the Gate and was gone.”

McKay looked sorrowful, “So… we lost a valuable piece of technology.”

“Yeah, but it was butt ugly.”

“Still, think of everything we could have learned!”

“Butt… Ugly. Besides, McKay, you got all that knowledge about it locked up in that massive brain of yours, and Zelenka and the rest learned a thing or two.”

McKay grimaced, then asked, “And … who’s idea was it to allow Rix full access to the ship?  I’d rather doubt that Lorne did this on his own.”

It was Sheppard’s turn to make a face.  “Okay, he came to Weir and me. We figured it wouldn’t hurt anything.  He seemed harmless, didn't he?”

“Right.  Why weren’t you included in the pirate soirée?”

“Hey!  I was catching up on sleep after watching your sorry ass recover in the infirmary.  I figured Lorne could handle it.”

“Yeah,” McKay responded, giving Sheppard an annoyed look.

“It was just dumb luck,” Sheppard concluded.  “Who would have figured that the little weasel would have a trick like that up his sleeve?”

With a glare, McKay told him, “Would have been nice to know about the device that… hello? …knocked everyone unconscious without affecting the pilot?”

“Yeah, that would have been good,” Sheppard agreed.  “Too bad you didn’t figure it out when you were looking things over.”

“I was busy!” McKay complained.  “I was just trying to figure out how everything worked together.  How many days have Zelenka and the rest had it?”

“Still,” Sheppard said.  “You should’ve figured it out.”

McKay gave him a calculated look.  “I don’t know whether I should take that as a compliment or as a criticism.”

“Criticism,” Sheppard clarified.

“Great.” McKay tried to look annoyed, but after a moment, he shook his head and chuckled.  “Pirates…”  

“Space pirates,” Sheppard reiterated.  “Go figure.”

“What else did he make off with?  The ZPM wasn’t still on the ship?!  I mean, nearly depleted or not, it’s worth something!”  McKay’s voice rose and a Marine who was striding through the hallway paused to see who had shouted.  Seeing it was McKay with Sheppard, he just nodded and kept going.

“We got it,” Sheppard quickly quelled.  “He got his loot, the equipment your guys were using on the ship and some of the Marines’ gear..”

“Figures.”  McKay made a face and asked, “So the equipment that he took, does it include the data that Zelenka and the others were able to collect from the ship.”

“Yeah… most of it.  They’re trying to recreate the info from memory.”

“Wonderful.”  McKay shook his head, evaporating dreams of shielding and other marvels from the Ironspot.

“Oh, and he also got someone’s lunch cooler and most of their MREs. Didn’t take the Country Captain Chicken.”

“Not as dumb as he seemed.”

“Nope.  Oh, he pocketed a few things from the infirmary, too.  And maybe picked up a scanner or two.  We’ll need to do an inventory.”

“Yeah,” McKay responded with an annoyed look.

“At least you still have your laptop.  That’s probably due to my quick thinking ‘cause I stashed it in your room.”

“Thanks, for that,” McKay snipped.

“Don’t mention it.”  Sheppard chuckled.

Rodney seemed to understand what had just been said, and restated genuinely, “I appreciate it.”

Sheppard went on, “When Ronon found out about Rix, he thought it was pretty amusing   Teyla, I don’t know…  one moment she seemed ‘relieved’ and the next she seemed a bit sad.”

“Why do think that was?  Maybe Rix and Teyla had a little something going on?”

“Don’t…” Sheppard’s voice took on a harsh edge.  “Don’t even think it!”

That got a chuckle out of Rodney, which fell into a frown as he pulled at his offworld uniform.  “Well, I guess it makes no sense to go check out the site then.”

“Not unless you want to continue Lorne’s humiliation.”

McKay sparked a moment at the thought, but the loss of the Ironspot seemed to take something out of him, and he continued to lean against the wall.

“I had an idea,” Sheppard said.

“Oh,” McKay responded.  “Should I alert someone?”

Sheppard just tipped his head, giving McKay a glare.  “Ronon was talking about heading to the mainland tonight.  I was thinking about giving him a lift.”

Rodney frowned.  “It’s just about dusk on the mainland.  Maybe you should tell the big guy to wait until tomorrow.”

With a shrug, Sheppard said, “He just wanted to get outside for a while, you know, feel dirt beneath his feet and all that.  Teyla was coming, too.”

“Oh.”

“I was headed to the mess to round up some food.  I figured we’d just head to the mainland, have some snacks and sit back for a while -- watch the stars come out.  You coming?”

Rodney pondered a moment, his eyes taking on a distant look, and then he declared, “You’re bringing food?  I could eat.”

Sheppard chuckled at that, and waited as Rodney shoved himself off the wall and put himself in motion.

The colonel walked alongside the astrophysicist.  John pulled his hands from his pockets and let them rest at his side, as Rodney took his measured pace down the hallway.

“I hear the cook is experimenting with tava meal,” Sheppard said offhand as they walked.

“Don’t even kid about that,” McKay grumbled, and Sheppard smiled at the reaction.  Seeing the smirk, McKay added, “By the way, did anyone fix the DHD on Jumper 5, because…”

“Let it go, McKay,” Sheppard growled, “let’s pack up some chow and meet up with the others. This time of day there’s probably some sort of snacks set up in the mess.”

“Yeah, you’re just hoping they have Little Smokies,” McKay commented.

Sheppard just looked at McKay in surprise.  They kept walking along the corridors of Atlantis, heading toward the mess hall with high hopes, and then onward to the jumper, the mainland and the stars.



Meanwhile, far from Atlantis, the Ironspot wended its way among the stars, heading toward a new hideaway.

Its pilot chucked as he slurped up a jello.  Blue, he decided, was definitely his favorite flavor.  Much better than tava meal, in any case, and he would miss gelatin treats now that he’d finished the last one.

Still, he glanced toward the pile of MREs, thinking that he had many good meals ahead.  He was never going to get stuck with only tava to eat – never again.  He’d also been able to secure a significant supply of water.  No more recycled stuff!

He grinned has his eyes lit upon the item that was wedged between a couple of gauges.  He’d found it on the floor after he'd carefully dragged out the occupants.  It had been startled for a moment – he'd thought it was a deadly bloodsucking furred leach, but it ended up being only one of Ronon’s lost dreadlocks.  He didn’t really know why he kept it, but he did so nonetheless.

He was rather sad that he hadn’t managed to get a lock of hair from a certain someone, but he still had the eye patch, wearing it wrapped around his wrist now.  It looked pretty good, he had to admit, and it was a lovely token to remember her by.

Teyla sure was pretty.

He’d miss Zeno and Wortley – it was hard not to create attachments to people, he decided.  He’d miss Teyla too, even John, Rodney and Carson.  Ronon – well – the man was terrifying, but there was something decent about him…

He piloted the Ironspot onward, adjusting the bandana, liking the look of it, and wondered where he’d find a talking bird.



On the other side of the galaxy, a brownish ball, with a strange shape and white stitching down one side, continued its straight and unhindered flight among the stars.

THE END! -- thanks so much.  I hope you liked it!
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