RATING: PG - for some swearing
SEASON: Third Season - first half
MAJOR CHARACTERS: Team Fic - McKay, Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla, with Beckett
DISCLAIMERS: The characters, Atlantis, etc, all belong to Sony, MGM, Gecko, Showtime, the Sci-Fi Channel. 
SUMMARY:  The team is helping out a town with a broken shield system, a penchant for tornados and a secret.
FEEDBACK: Yes please! comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated.
SPOILERS: small ones for Rising, The Gift, Common Ground, Siege III, Suspicion, Allies
DATE:  Complete April 21, 2007

Whirlwind
By NotTasha

PART 1:  CRUSH

He was aware of a buzzing, an annoying and insistent sound.  He tried to raise a hand to flutter away the annoying insect, but his hand wouldn’t move.  It wouldn’t move at all, and he was far too tired to keep trying.  His hand laid still and the buzzing continued.

He felt heavy.  He ached.  His head hurt – his back – his side.  He was dizzy even though he wasn’t moving, even though he was stretched out on his stomach, eyes closed, face turned to one side, arms out at his side.  He felt sick.  His neck felt sticky.  His head throbbed -- was he bleeding?

It was hard to tell where one hurt ended and where another began, hard to categorize them – did his back hurt worse than his head? Everything ached.  Trying to concentrate on one area or another only intensified the sensation and he realized he’d do better by drawing back and trying to forget it.

Yes, just try to forget – forget.

Well, forgetting should be simple, because he couldn’t remember.  Couldn’t even begin to remember what had happened – what had brought him here.  He could hardly remember getting up that morning.

Out of toothpaste.  Had squeezed out the last possible drab last night.  Had to brush without in the morning … using whatever paste had been left behind on the bristles of the brush.  Needed to go to the commissary.  Might try Crest Whitening toothpaste this time.  He could always use whiter teeth.

Who didn’t?

Get something minty.  Not one of those strange new flavors.  Vanilla? Who thought that was a good idea?  Definitely not ‘Lemon Ice’.  Who wants to taste ‘death’ so early in the morning?

Something twinged, throbbed, hurt like hell.

Forget.  Just forget.

Toothpaste.  Don’t forget to get new toothpaste when you get back.  Didn’t have time to get it in the morning.  Why?  Something came up.  What?  Had to get ready for a mission.  The others were waiting.  Yes.  And where were they going?  Think about it… think…

Not working.

Well, figure out something then.  You can always figure things out.

He blinked and found only darkness.  Concentrate.  The blackness remained – so thick – so deep.

Can’t see a thing.  Can’t do a thing.  Why try?

So he let himself sink, to slip and hide.  The pain lessened  The buzzing diminished.  He let it go.

“Rodney!  Rodney, do you hear me!” The buzzing suddenly formed into words.

The voice was demanding, and he blinked again, hearing his name.

“McKay, respond!”

Numbly, he moved his lips, but his voice didn’t seem to work.

“Teyla, you’re almost there. You got three life forms dead-ahead of you.  Keep moving forward.”

“I can hear voices.” There was a pounding heard over the radio.  “I have come to help you!  Are you there?  Yes, I hear people digging toward me.”

“Keep at it, Teyla.  Ronon?  You’ve stopped?”

“Got some stuff to work through. How close am I?”

“You got about six feet from your target.  You hear anything?”

“Nothing.”

“Keep going.”

“I am.”

Above him, something seemed to shift.  He blinked, feeling dust sift down onto him.  Dust, dirt, spider webs maybe?  And he cringed.  He hated spiders.

“John, how are you doing?”

“Great.  Just great.  Yeah.  I think I got the bleeding stopped.  She should be okay if we could just get out of this damn place. That message better have gotten through.”

“It will.”

“You break through yet?”

“I am very close now.”

“Keep at it.  Why aren’t any of their people here yet?  What the hell?”

There was a pause, and then, “There was great disorder.  They are only beginning to understand what has happened.  They will come to help.”

“Not soon enough.”

He listened, swallowing dryly as the conversation continued.  He felt desiccated, empty, crushed, hurt, trapped.  Somewhere, above him, in the blackness, someone was moving.

He drifted.

“McKay!  If you’re out there, respond.  McKay, do you hear me?”

“M’here,” he whispered, his voice raw.  “Here… I’m here.   I think I can hear something.  I…”

“McKay!  Do you copy?  Damn it!  Why won’t he answer?  Where the hell are the rest of them?”

Cursing his stupidity, he tried to move his left arm to activate the mic on his radio, but the hand was totally trapped.  Try harder!  Get it loose.  Come on! “Gah!” Increased attempts to move the limb only sent a flare of pain through his shoulder.

Letting out a sobbing gasp, he tried to move his right arm.  It was less encumbered than the left, but he was met with impediments and had to draw the arm back toward his body.  He was tangled.

He had no luck.  The more he tried to move the arm, the more difficult it became.  What?  What was wrong?  Frustrated in the darkness, he tried to free the arm as the voices returned to mere buzzing in his ear.

“Stupid, so stupid,” he gasped, pulling his hand back, and trying to get it out of whatever had ensnared it.   Attempting to jerk the arm out of the binding only sent waves of pain through his back.

"Ow...oh ow... Ow..."

By accident, his hand brushed across something familiar.  What?  Oh, yeah.  P90.  I can use that.  The hand spidered, searching along the length of the weapon until he found the switch.  And then, with a click, light flooded the space.

He let out a breath as he gazed out through a haze of falling dust.  He was surrounded by shattered wood, big beams and smaller boards.  Wood... lots of wood.  And how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Just as much wood as a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck…

God, he was embarrassing.

Yes, all around him -- smashed wood, shattered support columns and bleak broken stuff.  Everything was coated in a film of dust and he blinked against the brightness of the P90’s light, blinked against the dust motes that floated everywhere around him.

He coughed miserably, realizing just how trapped he was, in some wrecked building.

Great… just great.  He closed his eyes a moment, a feeling the heaviness of his eyelids.

But the others...  You can’t let them down.  What if... what if they're hurt?

Easier to keep your eyes closed.  Just keep them closed.  Easier.

Screw easier.

Think… think.  What happened?  How do you get out?  And he opened his eyes again slowly.   Figure it out.  Look around you.  What do you see?  What can you use?

There was a console of some sort in the middle of the room.  It blurred, and he blinked, trying to clear his vision.  Was he home?  Then why the wood?

He focused on the console, and furrowed his brow.  Now, that’s odd.  Why would they have…?  And his heart rate increased again.

He coughed, the action sending another bolt of pain through him, leaving him gasping.  His mind muddled as everything started to gray.

“Rodney, if you can hear me, respond.”

“I have broken through to the room and have found the survivors!”

“Great, Teyla!”

“He there?”

There was a ruckus over the radio, a smattering of glad voices.

“You are safe now.  I have found you.  Is everyone all right?  Is anyone hurt?”

“Teyla?”

“There are three of the Colo here.  They are not badly injured.”  She paused, as if reluctant to continue.  “Rodney is not among them.”

“Ronon?”

“I’m still going.”

“The Colo are in good condition, Colonel, and I believe they will be able to make their way out without further aid from me.  Where is the next target?”

There was a frustrated sound, and “God, I wish I could help you guys out.”

“You must remain with Albion until medical help arrives.  Is she still…”

“She’s alive, yeah.  I’ve stopped the worst of the bleeding, but she needs real help.”

“Where is my next target?”

“Hang on, Teyla.  We got two sets left.  Next is a single dot.  Good chance it’s our guy.  About 20 feet from where you are right now there’s…”

And then there was a pause.

“John?”

Quiet.

“John?”

“Aw hell.”

“John, what is it?”

“Went out.  Son of a bitch.”  Something clattered as if forcefully struck.  “We lost one.  The lifesign was just … shit.”

“There are others still indicated on the Life Sign Detector?  Chances are it was not him”

“Yeah… yeah…”

“We will find him, John.”

“I’m gonna kill him when I get my hands on him.”

“Yeah, me too.  Gotta get him first.  How close am I now?”

“Your almost on top of the indicator, Ronon.  You got a lifesign right in front of you.”

“I’m not seein’ anythin’.”

“Must be above or below you.”  A disgruntled groan, followed by, “How the hell does he get this thing to show three dimensional structures?  Dammit.”

Something was creaking over his head, and more dust was coming down.  He coughed again, roughly, leaving him sucking for oxygen as tears formed in his eyes.

“Hang on, I heard something?  McKay?  McKay!”

The voice came to him in stereo – muffled from above and transmitted over the radio -- a strange echo.   He felt cold.

“McKay!”

Above him, the helter-skelter ceiling was creaking madly and he let out a frightened gasp, “Watch out!” he called, but his voice was little more than a squeak.  “Get off!” he tried to shout as he brought his head back in a futile attempt to escape.  He’d moved no more than an inch, but the board above his head gave him a solid thunk and the blackness returned to his world.

PART 2:  RUBBLE

“Ronon?” Sheppard called.

“Hang on!” Dex responded, irritated.   He was too busy to talk.  He worked, tossing one board aside, and then another, moving downward through the broken remnants of the building.

“Ronon!”

“What!?”

“Back off a bit.”

“I’m not backing off!” he growled.

“You’re right on top of the indicator, Ronon,” Sheppard’s voice snapped back at him.  “Back up a foot or two!  Damn it, do you understand what I mean by ‘right on top’?  If he’s under you…”

“Okay, right,” and Satedan responded, chagrinned.  He quickly repositioned himself, apologizing silently.  “That better?”

“Yeah, loads.  You don’t want to crush him before you save him.”

If it’s him.  Might be someone else again.  “Right.”

A raindrop struck him, and another, finding their way through the shattered ceiling.  It was easily ignored.  As he worked, Ronon kept his ears alert, aware, waiting, listening for that sound again.

He’d never forget that sound – the incredible roar.  It had sounded like the world coming apart.

He threw back one board, one block, and then another, desperate to dig down through the mess to find their missing team member.  He had to find him.

There was no telling if this particular lifesign was McKay or another of the Colo people that had been caught up in the collapse.  So far, they’d rescued seven of the natives.  McKay was still missing and one of the lifesigns had gone out.

Ronon listened as Sheppard directed Teyla toward the next pair of lifesigns.  He hoped Shepard paid attention to where the ‘dead’ one had been.  He didn’t want to think about it, but they might have to go back and find that one if the rest of these didn’t work out.

He didn’t want to do that.

And he dug faster.

The team had come here to help the Colo. He hadn’t paid that much attention to that part of the briefing.  It had something to do with a shield device that had gone bad.  It really wasn’t a worry to the Satedan.  He was just there to keep an eye on his people, to keep them out of trouble.

And all had gone well.  The Colo were relatively ‘simple’.  Sheppard had said something about ‘late 19th century’ and ‘Westworld’ but that meant little to the Satedan.  They were more advanced than many of the societies in the galaxy, less so than others.

The Colo were peaceful enough, but a bit anxious.  The nervousness was probably just due to their their non-functioning device, or maybe the weather.  They had seemed bothered by the clouds.

The Satedan kept his guard up, and kept an eye on the people.  He left the sky to someone else.

He shouldn’t have.

He’d been bored out of his mind, hovering about in their Governor’s Palace.  It was the biggest building in their little town, too big for the small population, and filled with a warren of rooms and hallways.

He’d been assigned to watch McKay, and thus had to remain in one room while the scientist worked.  He kept his eyes open, listening to the rain pelt the windows and hearing the wind gust – like hands shoving against the walls.

There was a shield device in the room, and talk about a missing ZPM.  It made the scientist fume.

McKay spouted off his irritation, babbling on about ‘how could anyone lose a ZPM?’  Then the scientist had left the room to try to find Albion, the Governor, to demand answers from her about… something. McKay had left for only a few minutes.

Ronon didn’t follow.  It was a mistake.  A huge mistake.

Everything went to pieces.  The rain changed to hail, pounding harder than Ronon had ever heard before.  It sounded like ice, like ball bearings, and then there was the roar.

The next thing he’d known, he was outside, flat on his stomach.  The wind screamed around him, the hail kept falling.  He felt as if it would cut through his skin, and then, suddenly, it stopped.  The wind quieted.  Rain returned.  He lifted his head, looking up in shock.  The building, the massive Governor’s Palace, was gone.  It was if the thing had been blasted from the planet.  Only broken backed roof stood, the walls were shattered, with and debris heaped all around. 

The town was dropped to its knees – only one building was still standing, the rest was torn to pieces.

He staggered to his feet.  Sheppard and Teyla were suddenly beside him, but McKay wasn’t with them and he pointed toward what was left of the palace.

They dashed to it and crawled into the razed building, searching, using the Life Sign Detector to guide them.  They’d split up to cover more ground with Sheppard assigning targets and giving them directions.  They hurried.

Sheppard had discovered the badly injured Governor right off – Albion.  He couldn’t leave her.  Ronon might have considered it.

Ronon continued searching for McKay, and helping the Colos that he found in the process -- getting them out of his way.  Teyla worked just as hard, heading in another direction in the wreck.

He’d come across a body early on, one of the Colo named Roland.  He hadn’t told the others.  It wasn’t McKay, and he didn’t know Roland well.  It wasn’t a concern.

Now, there was another lifesign right in front of him.  Someone was below him.  He shifted boards, and dug through debris, knowing he would not stop until McKay was found.  Another board tossed to the side, and suddenly a cavern yawned beneath him – a weird hole in the ground – hardly a basement.  As he gazed down, just beneath him, he saw another pile of rubble.

Light shone back at him.

“Ronon, you got anything?” Sheppard called.

The people of Colo didn’t have flashlights.  There was only one person who would have such a thing.  “Hang on,” he responded, swinging himself downward.

He scrabbled, careful not to put any weight on the boards that covered the shape.  He steadied himself, gaining his balance on the uneven surface as he gazed on the mostly covered form.  He quickly considered the wreckage, figuring out what to move without causing pain to the one below.  He made his choice and pulled away a large board.

The light became brighter, revealing P90's light, along with Rodney's head and upper body.  There was blood.

Ronon moved beside the man, lowering himself beside his teammate, and deactivated the mic on his radio – wanting to find out more before saying anything.

“McKay,” he said softly, resting a hand on the back of Rodney’s head. The scientist’s hair was darkly matted, and his back was torn and bloody.  His pack was looped around one arm, the strap for the other shoulder had severed.  Ronon frowned at this failure, knowing it had exposed the scientist to greater injury.

“McKay,” he said again, feeling for a pulse, finding it. The skin felt chilled.  “Can you hear me?” he asked.

“Ronon?!” Sheppard called again.

Ronon activated his radio again.  “Found him,” Ronon responded, leaving one hand on the back of Rodney’s neck.

“How is he?” Teyla responded immediately. 

“Where’d you find him?” that was Sheppard.

“Some sort of underground hole,” Ronon told them as he shoved away a console that was in the way and set about moving the crisscross of debris that still covered the man, trying to remove the shards of wood that had cut into his back. “He’s pretty beat up.  Haven’t been able to wake him up.”

Sheppard was trying to give him some medical suggestions, but Ronon didn’t need the help.  The boards, beams and shards came away as quickly as he could move them, and once he’d gotten McKay freed, he performed a quick assessment, looking for broken bones, severe lacerations, bigger trouble.

Bruised, bloody, beaten.  Nothing seemed broken.  But McKay had some pretty nasty cuts across his back and had lost a fair amount of blood.  He’d need to be seen to… quickly.

Now, if he could only get him out of here.  He studied McKay, figuring the best way to carry a man with a head injury.

“Hey!” the voice from above made Ronon turn abruptly, his weapon, whining as it activated, flew into his hand.

From above, one of the Colo leapt backward, startled.  “Wait!  It’s just me!  Ames.”

“Yeah,” Ronon returned.  Ames was the Governor’s Assistant, a stout man with a thin layer of sandy hair.  Ronon didn’t like him.

“We have to get out of here,” the man insisted.  “Now.”

“Don’t want to move him until I know…”

“The building isn’t safe!” Ames insisted.

Ronon regarded Ames.  He was on the verge of panic.  Ronon touched his radio.  “Sheppard?  We got to get out.  It isn’t safe here.”

“I know,” Sheppard growled.  “Can you get McKay out?  Do you need help?”

“Ames is here,” Ronon told him.

“Yeah, hey, looks like I got a couple folks coming toward me, too.  Teyla?”

“I have located my targets and have freed them.  Gilbert and Clemmon are well.  We will proceed toward the street.”

“Yeah, that should account for all the indicators on the LSD.   We’re heading out.  Ronon…”

“We’re moving,” Ronon responded.  He carefully unlooped the pack from Rodney’s arm and tossed it up to Ames.  Then, he gently hefted McKay into a sitting position.  Rodney made a quiet whimper at the change.  Ronon held the man against himself, furrowing his brow as McKay trembled.

Dex hung onto the man for a moment before he said in a soft voice, “It’s okay.  I got you.  Gonna get you out now.”

“K,” Rodney muttered in return, his voice little more than an exhale.

The Satedan smiled grimly, glad to hear the quiet voice, but not happy with the sound of it. He stood, carefully, drawing Rodney’s weight up with him. He glared up at Ames who reached toward him. There was something he didn’t like about the man, but he needed help to get Rodney out of the rubble pit.

With reservations, he handed the injured man upward, letting Ames assist, but never taking his hands off of Rodney in the process.  He might need help getting McKay out of the pit, but Ronon would get him out the rest of the way.

PART 3: RABBLE

Rain was still pelting down as Sheppard stepped from the ruin of the Governor’s Palace, helping the others carry Albion.  Blood soaked her bandages. 

Help was coming, he told himself as they made their way out of the shattered building and into the debris-strewn street.  All around them, the little town lay in tatters.  Icy white balls contrasted against the dirt street.  Wind lashed.

He’d been watching the sky over Colo ever since it turned that strange shade of green, watched it with a keen eye from the front porch of the town’s market, and wondering if what he’d heard was true.

Green skies are never good.  A green sky is a sure sign of a tornado coming.  But somehow, that didn’t seem possible here in the Pegasus Galaxy.  Tornadoes seemed to be creatures native to Kansas, and Oklahoma, and horrible Iowa.

They shouldn’t happen here.

Then, off in the distance, he’d caught sight of one, just a wisp of a cyclone, trailing down from a cloud like a thumb.  He held his breath in disbelief.

The appendage had played at the cloud, dangling, descending and retracting without reaching the ground.  It was far off and harmless, little more than a whirlwind.  And then another formed beside it.  They twisted.  Advancing, retreating, playing a game of hide and go seek in the clouds.

It had seemed magical and awe-inspiring, and he’d been transfixed for a moment, watching the devils dance in the distance as the rain came down in huge drops.

He remembered thinking, “This can’t be good.”

He had turned toward Teyla, who was just inside the building.  Had urgently called her out to the porch, wanting to ask her if these people had basements, storm cellars, some sort of place to ride out a storm.  She came outside, having trouble shutting the door behind her.

The wind had picked up; the relentless rain turned to hail.  They were bombarded.

No time for questions.  Shelter.  They needed it.  Now!  Heavy hail pounded the roof.  And then he’d heard the roar -- like a locomotive, bearing down on them, shaking everything, about to slice them both in half.

He shoved Teyla away from the big windowpanes.  They had tumbled down the front steps, and then he’d pushed her before him, into the darkness beneath the porch.  The roar increased from locomotive to ‘jet engine’.

She’d shouted at him, asking what was happening, and they had clung to one of the building supports.  The wind screamed.  Debris was sucked across them – leaves and rocks and loose bits of paper and whatnot peppered them like shotgun pellets.

The building above them, snapped, popped, moaned.  The boards of the porch clattered and lifted, screaming as their nails were yanked from the crossbeams.  Glass shattered.  A little rag doll that he’d seen for sale in the market smacked him squarely in the face.

They clung to the post and clung to each other in the dim shelter under the porch, ducking their heads, tightly closing eyes, sealing their mouths against the onslaught.  It felt like a sandblasting, it felt like the air was being sucked from their lungs, it felt like the end of the world.

It felt like forever.

And for those few moments, Sheppard had no thoughts except – hold on -- don’t let go -- don’t let go of Teyla -- hang on.

And then, suddenly, it was over.  In an almost unsatisfying denouement – it just… stopped.  Bits of debris, carried in the too-strong winds, simply fell, clunking to the ground.  The wind stopped screaming – the building around them ceased trying to pull itself apart.  Pieces of the market stopped beating them.  They looked up to find daylight streaming down, raindrops reaching them  – most of the floorboards were gone from above.

He’d looked at Teyla, staring back at her wide eyes, and had to smile.  Her hair was wild and decorated with leaves and bark and bits of wood.  She was scraped, and scratched but otherwise okay.  She returned the smile.  They survived it.

“That was interesting,” Sheppard muttered as he crawled out from under the porch and into the street, Teyla right behind him.

He stopped, still partially hunched over, and stared in disbelief.

The market building had been ripped open like a carcass.  The town was flattened.  Nearly everything had come down.  They spent one unnerved moment gazing about them at the destruction, the annihilation.  Maybe one structure still stood, all the rest had been smashed, smacked, bashed about.

Sheppard tried to locate the largest building in town, the place where they’d left their teammates.  No sign.  Oh God, no.  He moved out into the street, trying to figure out which heap of rubble had been the palace.

Townspeople milled as if bewitched, scraped and scourged.  A teenage boy was standing in the middle of the hail-battered, trash-covered street – Fernald.

It was the kid who’d met them at the Gate that morning, a tall, lanky boy, who’d looked so smug and self-important.  All semblance of arrogance was gone as he looked about with a shattered expression and a slack jaw.  Sheppard grasped him by the shoulder and spun him about, giving him an order to go to the Gate, to dial up a certain address, to ask for help.

Fernald nodded and sprinted in that direction, obviously relieved to have something to do – something that he could understand – something that he could accomplish.

Sheppard moved up the street, toward where he thought the palace must be, and saw Ronon stand up in the street, a giant rising, tousled but remarkably unscathed.  They ran toward him.  He looked angry, relieved and maybe a little frightened – which only served to make him angrier.

“McKay!” Dex shouted, gesturing toward a stomped-down building.

And they had run toward it, chancing glances at the townspeople that staggered around them.  Sheppard searched for a familiar face, looking for that certain uniform, not finding him.  And they dove into that ruined place, dividing it, searching it, desperate.

Sheppard had felt powerless through most of the search.  He’d found the injured Albion, and couldn’t leave her.  He prayed that someone would come, anyone, who would take his place at her side.  He needed to help Ronon and Teyla; he had to find Rodney in this mess.  The place was so twisted -- so utterly ruined.  He felt so ineffective as he guided the others, watching little dots on a screen, watching a light wink out.  He’d frozen at that moment, barely breathing… thinking the worst, hoping for the best.

Sheppard didn’t relax, couldn't truly breath, until Ronon made his pronouncement that he’d found Rodney.  Their friend was alive.  Ronon would get him out.

Then a couple of Colos had arrived for Albion and he were able to get free of that horrid wreck of a building.

They carried Albion out.   Sheppard clambered over what once was a desk, what was a book shelf, clearing the way so that the others could bring the Governor to safety.

He was almost surprised by the rain when he finally emerged from the broken structure.  The hail had, at least, stopped.  The sky streamed, but the clouds had taken on a less remarkable hue, settling to a threatening gray instead of that weird, unnatural shade that they’d held before.

He turned about, desperately seeking, and spotted Teyla with her small gang of the rescued.  They came toward him.  Gilbert and Clemmon – a brother and sister -- instantly helped with Albion, releasing him from any further responsibility.

“You seen Ronon and Rodney yet?” Sheppard asked, ducking his head against the rain.

Teyla’s eyes were on the bent structure.  “There,” she responded and took off at a sprint toward a dark shape that moved forth.

Sheppard followed.

Ronon stepped carefully through the busted stuff, carrying McKay tightly to his chest.  Rodney’s head rested against one of Ronon’s arm, his face lax and expressionless.  Sheppard felt his worry only increase.  His friend looked dead in Ronon’s arms.  No... no, no no.

Ames struggled after them, hardly able to keep up as he contended with Ronon’s long stride and McKay’s pack. Why wasn’t the man helping?

Sheppard understood.  Of course Ronon wouldn’t let some stranger help him carry Rodney.  No, Ronon would do it himself, even if it killed him.

John moved forward to meet them.  “Ronon,” he called as he came closer, seeing the blood, noting the paleness of Rodney’s face. "How’s he doing?”

Big raindrops were still pelting them.  Wind gusted.  Ronon gave Sheppard only a dissatisfied look before saying, “Where do we go?” He glared up at the unfriendly sky.

It was at least a mile to the Gate, a long way to carry someone in the bad weather.  The rain and wind were insufferable.

Around them, the Colo were gathering, looking shocked and bloodied, wanting help and answers, looking for direction.  “This way,” Ames said, breathlessly.  “Everyone, follow me!”  And he led the way toward the only large building that still stood.  Ronon scowled at the man.

At least, Sheppard thought, it would be out of the rain -- give them a chance to check over Rodney and the woman, see if anyone else needed help.

"Come on," Sheppard said, "Let's at least regroup."  Ronon just made an unhappy grunt, and continued moving, following Ames.

Sheppard tried to assist Ronon, but the Satedan seemed determine to get Rodney somewhere safe, and refused to give up any responsibility.  Since he couldn’t help there, John fell in behind.  The Colo, in a mass, moved toward the last building standing.

Ames threw open the doors, revealing a wide-open space – a meeting hall with long benches or pews of some sort.  “Come inside,” he encouraged.

Sheppard groaned as he saw the place – hardly the sort of building one should take refuge in from a tornado.  “Does it have a basement?” he asked.

Ames gave him a strange look.  “Basement?  No,” he responded.  “Come on.  Everyone, out of the rain!”

And they filed in, Ronon with Rodney, followed by Teyla, then the Colos who were carrying Albion.  Everyone else followed.  The Satedan quickly moved to a protected-looking corner of the open space, and gently settled Rodney on his stomach on the bench, careful of his tattered back and battered head.  Teyla was beside him in an instant, shucking off her jacket and putting it under Rodney’s turned head.  She frowned at the blood she found, and looked up to Sheppard in concern.

“Take care of him,” Sheppard told them unnecessarily as he moved to check on the others.   Ames was still directing, still holding onto Rodney’s pack.  Sheppard retrieved it from him, tugging it out of the Colo’s hands.  Ames looked at him, startled, pulling back, and then seemed to realize what was happening and let it go.  “Thanks,” Sheppard told him, and Ames gave him a little nod.

Someone decided to keep the worst injuries together, so Albion was settled on the same row of benches as Rodney.  Others stumbled to whatever seat looked convenient enough, sporting a variety of breaks, bruises and bloody wounds.

Sheppard watched it all with a dispassionate expression, waiting until everyone was in and the door was shut behind them.  Above them, rain pounded, wind whined.  Nobody spoke at first, each lost in their own confusion, and then almost at the same moment, a dozen conversations started up.  People began speaking in hushed and horrified whispers, relating the terrors to whoever was closest to them.  The small children among them whimpered quietly, their cries like the mewling of kittens.

“Is anyone a doctor?” Sheppard asked.  “Do you have someone with any medical training?”

The people glanced at one another and the name “Roland” was called out.

“Dead,” Ronon said curtly.  A gasp went up and Ronon grimaced.

“Great,” Sheppard responded.  He moved back to his group, and gazed down at them as Ronon and Teyla hovered over Rodney.  “How is he?” he asked.

Ronon held the man up as Teyla worked at freeing Rodney from his ruined jacket and shirt.

“He has a head injury and many lacerations to his back,” Teyla said quietly.  “He is badly bruised and is cold.  We should see to his injuries and do what we can to warm him.”

Sheppard nodded, keeping his face neutral, as Teyla managed to cut off the last of Rodney’s upper clothing.  Damn…

There was a nasty laceration ran across Rodney’s shoulders where something had tore into him, and a series of lesser wounds sliced his bruise-mottled back.

Damn. It looked painful as hell.  Sorry, Rodney.

“He wake up at all?” John asked when he found his voice.

Ronon nodded.  “I think so.  Maybe.”

Sheppard didn’t respond, watching Rodney’s slack face as both Ronon and Teyla worked to discover his hurts, to do what they could to tend him. Teyla opened one of her bandage packets and pressed the sterile pad to the worst of the wounds, trying to staunch the continued bleeding.

McKay made a soft sound, little more than a “Ngh.”

Teyla responded with a softly spoken, heartfelt apology as she continued to apply pressure.  Ronon squatted down beside them, gently holding Rodney in place in case he tried to thrash. McKay remained frustratingly still, just uttering a quiet cry as Teyla increased the pressure.

The rain continued to fall in heavy drops, rat-a-tatting on the roof above them.  This storm wasn’t over and this room wouldn’t be safe if another tornado came through here.  This wasn’t good, Sheppard decided.  They were in a bad place.

Tornados -- they travel in packs – someone had told him that once.  He wondered if it was true.

The Meeting Hall was, at least, out of the weather.  At that moment, it was all they could hope for.  When the weather broke, they'd make a run for the Gate.

Everywhere, the rabble was trying to settle in, trying to take care of themselves or their townspeople. Families folded in, parents embracing their children -- brothers and sisters tucked together -- lovers held each other as they never had before.  A group had formed around Albion, making hushed sounds as they tried to deal with her injuries.

She didn’t look good, and Sheppard rather doubted that these people knew what they were doing.  They seemed the type to try leeches and bleedings to solve medical problems.

With his first aid training, he was probably their best bet at keeping her alive, but he’d already used all the bandages in his personal medical kit.  Ronon and Teyla were quickly going through theirs.  He feared Albion would need more than a Band-Aid to fix her.

Fully half of the people here were injured in one way or another.  Mostly little cuts, but here and there was an open laceration -- mostly bumps and bruises with the occasional broken limb.  They needed bandages, splints, bindings, antibiotics, sterile water, medication.

They needed someone who knew what the hell they were doing.  It wasn’t going to be him.

They needed an expert.

The door rattled, and the din of voices stopped.  The people hunched over their wounded, embraced their children.  They banded together as they feared the meeting hall was about to go to pieces around them, just like the rest of the town.

The door rattled again, and then popped open.  “Hello?” an anxious voice called, and then a man stepped within, looking wet, windblown and relieved.  “Here’s where you all got off to,” he stated with a lilt to his voice.  Turning, he called over his shoulder, “Boys, they’re in here.”

Beside him, Sheppard could feel Teyla and Ronon relax, and a bit of his anxiety fell away as well.  “Carson,” Sheppard greeted,   “Are we ever glad to see you!”

The Scot smiled as he hustled in, toting his medical bag and shaking off the rain.  Several Marines followed, along with Fernald and the tall dark-skinned doctor who worked with Carson.  The Marines fanned out to help assess what they were facing, and the other doctor began to triage the wealth of patients.  Fernald stood to the side, looking as if he wanted someone to tell him what to do next.

“It’s bloody awful out there,” Carson declared, worry evident on his face.  “We didn’t know what’d happened to you.”  The room was abuzz as the people talked excitedly with the newcomers.

A medic helped with the injuries.   He was new to Atlantis, a young man from Nevada -- Max Huxley, a Private with sandy hair.   Dr. No-name was tended to the worse-off.  The other marines helped wherever they could.

Carson reached the back of the room, his face displaying his alarm at the number of injuries around him.  “We got the message the lad passed to the Alpha site,” he told them.  “I didn’t know it was so bad.”

“Yeah, neither did we,” Sheppard responded.

Beckett fell to one knee beside Rodney, grimacing at the state of his friend.  “Oh, Rodney,” he sighed, laying one hand against McKay’s bruised and bloodied forehead.  “What did you get yourself into this time.”  He assessed him quickly yet carefully, checking the wounds at his back, and the bloody mess on his head, checked his eyes.  Carson didn’t look happy at first, but his expression changed and said softly, “That’s right, Rodney, you keep hanging in there.”

McKay made no response.

“So, he’ll be fine?” Ronon asked, sounding impassive.

Beckett told them, “He’s lost more blood than he should.  I need to get his injuries seen to.  His concussion is what truly worries me.  I can’t be sure how bad it is without better equipment.”

Sheppard frowned.  “Don’t you have that Ancient device?” he asked, remembering a tool Beckett had used before.

Carson frowned.  “Not with me, no.”  He looked disappointed with himself.  “I’ll have it brought.  What he truly needs is an MRI to look inside that daft head of his.  With luck, he’ll be fine, but I want to be certain.”  And he patted Rodney’s arm.

Sheppard made a quiet, “Hmmm,” at the news, having nothing more to say.

Beckett lifted his gaze and sighted on Albion.  “What happened to her?”

Sheppard explained what he could, and Carson, with a ‘tsk’ he moved to her side. Concerned, assessed her with careful efficiency.  “We'll need to get her to Atlantis or at least a proper facility,” he declared as he rooted through his bag with one hand.  “Soon as possible.”

“What about McKay?” Ronon asked, sounding a little miffed at the doctor’s choice to tend to Albion before he’d taken care of Rodney’s back.

“He’s stable at the moment,” Beckett declared.  “I can’t say the same for this lass.”   And he worked quietly over her for several moments, doing his best to discover exactly what was wrong with her and sighing about internal injuries and surgery.

Sheppard stepped back, watching the others in the room.  The Marines were helping where they could.  The tall doctor was busy, tending to the other injured people and giving orders to Pvt. Huxley.  The doctor was gentle and quick, assessing the wounded, treating those who needed it most.  A fine doctor, so it was particularly ridiculous that Sheppard had never discovered the man’s name.

After a few minutes, Becket frowned deeply, and declared,  “We’re going to need more help.”  He stretched his neck, looking for the other doctor and found him hunched over one of the Colo, stethoscope in his ears.  Grabbing a roll of bandages from his bag, he lofted it across the room to smack the doctor squarely in the side of the head.

He snapped upright, spinning about as he clutched at his maligned ear and searching for what had attacked him.  With a peeved expression, he noticed Beckett.  Placing the stethoscope around his neck, he gave his patient a nod and moved quickly to the CMO’s side.

Before Carson could talk, he started to rattle off his findings, pointing to the various people he’d seen, talking about what the medic had reported.  Carson nodded at the man’s assessments, but stopped him with one raised hand.

He returned the recital with a list what supplies they needed, asking for a jumper, the medical scanner, giving orders regarding how they were going to move people out, instructions for the infirmary on how to prepare an emergency hospital for the Colo at the Alpha Site.

“There you go,” Beckett finished, giving the man a pat on the arm. “Get to it.”

The doctor looked mystified.  “I’d do more good staying here to help,” he stated.  “You could send the kid,” and he jabbed a finger at Fernald who seemed elated to be given a chance.

“I trust none but you to deliver the information,” Carson told him.  “And you’ll be back in two shakes.  Now, go on then.  The boy can show the way.”

Eagerly, Fernald gestured toward the door.  Sheppard gave Sgt. Wilmington and Cpl. Madrid a nod, assigning them to watch over the pair, and the group took off in a rush, back toward the Gate.

Sheppard followed them to the door and stood for a moment, watching them go.   The small group dove into the bad weather.

The rain pounded them.  Sheppard watched them as they ran, their heads down to avoid the worst of it.  He groaned unhappily and shut the door, not noticing the strange, unhealthy hue that took over the sky.

PART 4:  AMPLE

Teyla sat beside Rodney and watched those around her.  People seemed to have unwound a little and were skittering back and forth across the room to converse with others.  She’d managed to speak to one or two of the Colo and had discovered that tornadoes were strange things on their planet – strange, but not entirely unknown.

During certain parts of the year, the Colo might see one in the distance, but never had one come through town before – not for as long as any of them had lived.  The land was flat here, large tracts that ran on forever. It wasn't unusual to see a tornado in the distance -- far away

And, in the past, they could always raise the shield if such harsh weather arrived.

The weather grew worse for a while, lighting flashed at the windows, thunder rolled angrily over their head, rain and pellets pocked the roof.  For a few minutes it seemed as if they’d lose this building as well, but the world outside quieted again, the wind ceased beating them, the rain slacked,  and all appeared well.

The Colo whispered urgently to one another.  From time to time, their gazes would lift and one would stare right at her.  Teyla would meet the gaze, and instantly the eyes would be averted.

It was strange – for she expected condemnation from them, she expected blame.  It was always easy to accuse the newcomers, the outsiders.  It was common everywhere in the galaxy – when in doubt, condemn the stranger.

But their flashing glances were not filled with hatred or blame.  There was something else there that she couldn’t quite explain.  Then their eyes would fix on Ames and Albion and their expressions would change.

She needed to confer with Sheppard and Ronon, but they were outside.  Ames had done a quick census of who was in the room, had decided who was still missing.  So Sheppard, Ronon and two of the Colo had gone out in search of survivors, leaving her to watch over Rodney. 

Carson had been mostly pleased as he checked over the Canadian.  Apparently he could have been much worse, having escaped crushing injuries.  He verified Ronon's early assessment that apparently no bones had been broken.  His back would heal if he obeyed Carson’s decrees, but his continued unconsciousness troubled the good doctor.

Beckett had done what he could for Albion, saying she was on borrowed time, that she needed to be moved to a better environment as soon as the others returned.  She would definitely require surgery.  He’d done what he could for them for the time being, and had moved on to take care of the other wounded.

She glanced down at the Canadian, still on his stomach on the bench.  He was bandaged. A quilt, decorated in whites and yellows in a pretty pattern, was drawn over most of him, keeping him warm and hiding his bruises.  And she grimaced in sympathy, knowing that every part of him would ache when he awoke – and he would wake.  She promised herself that.

She didn’t want to think about how long he’d been trapped alone in the dark.  She didn’t want to consider that they might never have found him if they hadn’t had the Life Sign Detector to guide them.  What would they have done if he had been lost to them?

She rested a hand on the back of his head, avoiding the bandage that wrapped him.  She reminded herself that he was here – that he was reasonably well – that everything would be better if he would only wake up.

And as she gently touched his head, she noticed the fluttering of his overly long lashes.  A warm smile crossed her face as she softly called his name, “Rodney?”

“Huh?” Rodney voiced.  He winced and then writhed a little.

“Rodney, listen to me,” she insisted, continuing to gently touch his head, hoping it would keep him still.  “You are safe.  We are ALL safe.  But you must lie still.  You are injured.”

“Injured?” Rodney whispered, his eyes still closed.  “Badly?”

She regarded the question for a moment.  “You have many injuries, but none that appear life threatening.” She continued to smile, glad to hear his voice, realizing how afraid she’d been that she’d never hear it again.  

“None appear to be life threatening?” he echoed.  “What does that mean?”

Even the argumentative tone of his voice made her feel good.  “You will be just fine,” she said, willing it to be true.  “You have lost a bit of blood. Remain still.  You have injuries on your back and they must not be allowed to open again.”

“On my back?” his voice was small, almost childlike.  “Are they bad?”  He turned his head.  “I can’t see them.”

“ Many of the cuts are quite small, ” she said, trying to be helpful.

“Small?” Rodney complained, sounding stronger.  “They don’t feel small.”  Irritation grew in his voice.  “I’ll show you small.”  He jammed his arms under him, trying to lever himself up on his elbows,  but stopped with a quick.  “Ow… ow… not small.  Definitely not small!”

Teyla moved her hand, resting it against an unmarred spot at his shoulder, easily pressing him back to the bench.  “You must stay still.”

He gasped out, “Good plan.”

“Your head injury has worried Carson.”

“That’d explain the headache… ow.  Seriously, OW!”  He raised a hand to his head, rubbing it dolefully.  There was a pause, and the lashes fluttered a bit, nearly closing for a moment until the eyes popped fully opened.  “Carson?  He’s here?”

“Yes, he is here.  He will return to check on you now that you are awake.  But he is currently tending to some of the others.”

“Others?  What others?  The Colonel and Ronon, are they…?”

“They are safe and well, Rodney,” she said forcefully.  “They are unharmed.”

“Where… where are we?”

“We are in the Meeting Hall, with the Colo.  Many of them have been hurt.”

“Colon,” he spoke the name with bit of a giggle.

Teyla smiled again, remembering how irritated she had been with Rodney earlier as he continually misused the planet’s name.  “Colo,” she corrected gently.

“Who in their right name would name themselves after that part of the anatomy?  I mean, next thing you know, we’ll be coming across the Anusans and the Rectolians.”

“Rodney, there are no such people… that I know of.”

“Colo…” he tried the name.  “I can remember… something… I think I know why we came here.”  He paused, closing his eyes again and pursing his lips in thought.  Quietly, he continued.  “To fix their shield, right?”

Teyla nodded.

Rodney frowned in return. “But… why?  Something was missing?   Wait, they didn’t have the ZPM to power it.  What’s up with that?”

“The Genii,” Teyla reminded quietly, her hand still on his shoulder.

“Oh yeah,” McKay said, his voice a whisper.  “Great people.”

“The Colo were misled by the Genii, and their ZPM was taken, leaving them without power for their shield system.”

“Great, yeah.  Good thing I let the Genii know how important a ZPM can be.  Another of my shining moments.”

Teyla continued, undaunted, “We came to help them.  You were to examine their device, and to devise a means of making it operate without the usual power source.”

“Yeah,” Rodney said with a flinch, “Like that’s going to happen.  Make it work without a ZPM.”  He frowned, his eyes still shut as he thought.  “And … something happened.”

“Yes, there was a tornado,” she told him.

“Tornado?”  He gazed up at her, his blue eyes very surprised.  “Really, like ‘we’re not in Kansas anymore’ tornado?”

Teyla let her expression remain blank.  “Yes, Rodney.  Tornadoes are uncommon in the places I have known, but they are sometimes seen on other planets.”

“Oh yeah… explains why I remember a building… on top of me.  Oh… oh yeah.  Wow.  Tornado…” his voice faded.

Teyla sighed, not wanting to think about it, not wanting to remember that the wind could become so horrible.  It was like the great storm that had struck Atlantis, but in a way this was worse.  This tornado came without warning, had struck them without provocation.

There was something sneaky and cruel about them.

She sat beside Rodney as he seemed to drift.  It was nice just to sit here, beside him, safe from the rain.  In spite of everything, she almost relaxed as she looked around the room, watching the little families in the safety of the Meeting Hall. 

“Why the hell are we in this dump?” McKay suddenly asked, his eyes snapping open.  “I mean, come on.   Like, who thought a hard wood bench was a good place to put a sick man?  Shouldn’t we be heading back to Atlantis? ”

“Dr. Beckett sent for help in transporting you and another who is badly injured, Albion.”

“Algernon?”

“Albion.  She is their governor, the woman with the…” and she paused to decide the best way to describe her. “… the light-colored hair and an…”  She looked to Rodney, finding his eyes fixed on her.  “… she has an ample…”

“Oh yeah, I remember her.  Huge tracts of land.”  And he smiled, delighted about something.

“Her people are injured as well.  Many are hurt.  Beckett requested a puddlejumper.” 

“Good plan.  Yeah.”  He glanced about, looking annoyed to find he could see little more than the back of the pew in front of him, and only Ames and a few other of the Colo further down his row – huddled around Albion  “So that’s where the Colonel and Ronon went?  For help?” Rodney asked.

“No, they have gone to the ruins with two of the Colo, looking for survivors.”

“Oh, but help is coming?”

“Yes, Beckett has sent for further medical assistance.”

Rodney narrowed his eyes; the skin around his eyes tightened.  “How long ago?”

Teyla consulted her watch.  She hadn’t learned exactly how to judge time using their parameters.  Feeling the length of a second, a minute, an hour, was still a bit of a mystery to her.  “They have been away for 30 minutes,” she informed the physicist.

Rodney scowled.  “Why so long?”

“They need to set up an infirmary at the Alpha Site.”  She lowered her voice, stating, “Because it would be unwise to bring so many strangers to our home.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it,” Rodney responded, and repositioned himself a little.  With a grunt and a shove, he pressed on the bench, attempting to get himself upright.  He breathed harshly.

Teyla sighed.  “Rodney, you must remain still,” she told him, but it did little good.  As usual, when he had a plan (of any sort) it was nearly impossible to sway him from it.

He groaned, loudly.  “Oh… ow,” he muttered unhappily.  Teyla helped him, letting him lean against her as she brought him upright to a sitting position.  The quilt pooled around his waist.

From across the room, a voice rang out, “What do you think you’re doin’?”  Carson charged toward them.

Rodney gasped, leaning against Teyla.  The Athosian looked to the doctor, begging forgiveness.

“You daft man,” Carson chastised.  “Didn’t Teyla tell you to stay still?  Knowin’ her and knownin’ you, I think she told you exactly that, and you just ignored anything she had to say.”

“They’re not back?” Rodney asked.

“Who’s not back?  The colonel and Ronon are just outside.  John picked up a lifesign, so they went out with a crew to retrieve whoever the poor soul might be.”

“But you sent word to Atlantis that you needed more people?”

“Of course,” Beckett replied, helping take some of the weight off Teyla’s shoulder and assisting Rodney to sit upright. His eyes raked his patient, searching for any sign that any quickly stitched wounds had opened.  “I sent them just moments ago.”

“Thirty minutes,” Teyla told him, stretching her shoulder a little and glad to be free of the extra weight.

“So long?”  Beckett looked uneasy.  

“Pretty huge tract of time when you have people in misery,” McKay groused.

“The mobile hospital will take some time, but Nate and the others should’a come back by now.”  He glanced toward the door.  “And I told them that we needed a triage team immediately.”  He exchanged a concerned expression with Teyla.

Teyla stood.  “I shall see what has happened,” she announced.

“Right then,” Beckett replied as he turned his attention to Rodney.  “Now, let’s see what you’ve done to yourself.”

Rodney whined a little as he leaned away from the doctor, not eager for further poking.

Teyla made her way through the room.  The Colo still huddled, still watched her with their strange expression. They looked almost – guilty.  And when Ames stood, their gazes shifted to him.

But she had no time to decipher them, and she undid the door and stepped into the pattering rain and the humid air.  She tried to close the door, but Ames appeared, muttering something about the need to take care of something in the Governor’s Palace.  He slipped past her, pulling on his long yellow-brown coat and moving toward the wrecked building.

Teyla moved into the street.  The intensity of the storm had decreased significantly.  Obviously, the worst of it had moved on.  She quickly found Sheppard and Ronon where they toiled with Gilbert and Clemmon on a pile of rubble. 

The brother and sister, both in their thirties, stocky, with long darkish hair and looking a little too similar for comfort.  But they worked easily with Ronon and Sheppard and together they freed a young woman from the ruins.

The woman, petite and pretty, but with a dirty and tear-streaked face, was almost giddy with glee as she was pulled from the wreck.  “Thank you!” she cried.  “Oh, thank you!”  And she grabbed Sheppard and gave him a mighty hug.  “You saved me!”

“Yeah,” Sheppard responded, his voice muffled.  “Team effort.”

She released him quickly, much to the colonel's relief, and moved on to Ronon, then Gilbert, then Clemmon.  “Thank you,” she squeaked as she gave each a squeeze, “Oh, thank you.”

“No problem,” Ronon managed to mutter.

The woman, still ecstatic, grasped Teyla and gave her an embrace as well. “I’m indebted to you,” she said with a sigh.  “I thought… I thought I’d be trapped in there forever.”

Teyla smiled proudly at her teammates.   It was good that they’d come here.

Freed from the task, Sheppard turned to Teyla and asked, “Has McKay made any sign of returning to the living?”

“He is awake,” Teyla stated happily.   “He is already giving Carson difficulties and disregarding his instructions.”

“Sounds like him,” Ronon stated.

“He can’t help it,” Sheppard added, smiling slightly.  “It’s in his blood.”  John paused, and glanced toward Ronon.  He looked a little disquieted as he took in Ronon’s bloodstained clothing.

Ronon didn’t understand the attention, and brushed at his clothing, and turned to Teyla to avoid John’s stare.  When he saw her expression, he asked, “Something’s wrong?”

“The rescue party has not returned,” she stated.

“Been a while,” Sheppard responded, clapping his dirty hands against his pants.

Ronon stated, “Better check it out.”  And he began striding toward the Gate.

Teyla watched as Gilbert and Clemmon helped the woman walk toward the Meeting Hall.   Sheppard started after Ronon, so Teyla hurried to catch up, soon passing Sheppard to jog alongside Ronon.  She could hear John fiddling with the Life Sign Detector behind her, cursing about his inability to extend its range.

The Gate was a little more than a mile away in the wide flat land of the Colo.  The Ring of the Ancients should have been in sight the whole way.  Long grain-topped grass fluttered damply in the wind, causing waves to ruffle through the gold as they moved through it, but nothing else obstructed their view.

Teyla glanced to Ronon, who didn’t seem to notice.  John’s attention was on the LSD.  “Colonel,” she called softly.

He lifted his head to see what she wanted, and then stared beyond her.  “What the…?  Where the hell’s the Gate?”

Ronon seemed to realize it for the first time, and he glanced back to Sheppard.  “This is bad,” he muttered.

Sheppard dipped his head again, as if the LSD might provide answers, and gave a shout.  “Hang on, I’m picking up something.  Someone’s near the DHD.”  No one was in sight.  If anyone lurked there, they were in hiding – along with the Gate. 

They drew their weapons and broke off in a trot to close the distance, pausing when they were within range of it.  There was little cover, only the waving wheat that came up to their knees.

With a hand signal, Sheppard split them up, sending Ronon to the right, Teyla to the left, and he took the center.

The earth was still damp as they warily circled around, surrounding the DHD.  Weapons held ready, they waited for movement.  Someone was hunkered down at the base of the device.  They were not taking chances.

Teyla moved, walking in a sideways step, her feet pressing against the battered stalks of grain.  She regarded the grass for a moment, knowing that earlier the stalks had stood tall.  Something had flattened them down, carving a channel.

She came about, and caught sight of the shape hunched under the DHD, and dropped her gun to her side.

“Fernald!” she called.  “Fernald!”

The boy sat with his knees drawn to his chest, one arm wrapped around the base of the DHD, the other clasped to the top of his head, pressing it into the DHD’s pedestal.  His eyes were tightly shut as he embraced the structure for all he was worth.

“Fernald!” Teyla called again, and the boy moved his arm and looked at her with eyes like a panicked animal.  Bruised and slashed, he seemed beaten.

He made a strange sound as he saw her, a gasp of relief. “It came at me.  It came right at me!” his voice quavered and he began to sob, still clutching at the DHD.

She returned her 9mm to its holster and squatted down beside the young man.  “It is gone,” she assured him.  "The tornado is gone."

In one quick movement, Fernald released his stranglehold on the DHD and flung himself at Teyla, wrapping long thin arms around her neck and crying into her shoulder as if he were a mere babe.  He bawled. "It just came and I had nowhere to go!  I didn’t know what to do.  I just… I just… I had to hold on!”

“You are safe now,” she assured quietly, patting his back.  “You will be fine.”

“I just held on, and it was loud.  Oh, it was so loud!” He wept noisily, clutching at the Athosian.  “It tried to pull me off!  I had to hold on so tight!”

“It’s gone now.  It’s gone,” Teyla soothed, holding him, rocking him slightly and wishing she had a handkerchief to save her shoulder, wishing she still had her jacket.  Something moved behind her.

Fernald startled, pulling away from her and looking over her shoulder in surprise.  Teyla turned to find Ronon and Sheppard.

“The others,” Sheppard asked urgently.  “Where are they?”

“I… I… I…”  Fernald gasped between the sobs as he shook.  “I just…held on.  It was all around me.  I didn’t know what to do!”

“We need to know,” Sheppard urged.  “We need to know where they are.”

“I… I…”  he trembled like a newborn animal.

With a disgusted look, Ronon reached down, grasped hold of Fernald’s narrow shoulder, and gave a mighty tug.  Resigned and defeated, Fernald released his death grip on Teyla and let Ronon yank him to his feet.

“Where are the others?” Ronon demanded bluntly.

They stared at each other, the big Satedan and the kid.  Oddly, they were nearly the same height, but Fernald hunched his shoulders until he appeared nearly a head shorter than the former Runner.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Fernald insisted, averting his eyes.

Ronon grimaced.  He clamped his hands on the boy’s shoulders, one at a time, making an audible sound as he slammed down his mighty mitts.  “We don’t have time for this,” he stated.

“I’m sorry…” Fernald responded, a quaver in his voice, hunching further.

For that, he got a hard shake, hard enough to rattle the battered boy’s teeth.  “Enough!” the Satedan demanded. 

Fernald gasped in surprise at the sudden shake.  It was over as quickly as it started, and he jiggling his head, trying to clear it.

“You survived,” Ronon reminded, his voice sharp as he steadied the young man.  “What happened to the rest of them?”

Fernald’s gaze took in Ronon’s severe expression, and he straightened a little.  “They got through.  They’d told me to stay, to wait and help when more of your people started coming back.”  He drew a deep breath.  “Then it came.  The tornado -- right at me.  Right at the Ring.”

Sheppard blew out a breath, staring at the spot beyond the DHD where the Gate should have been.  Only the dais remained.  He moved away from the group.

The kid wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging himself.  “All I could do was hang on.”  He squinted, and whispered hoarsely, “It was horrible.  I was so… so scared.” And he lowered his head again, looking deeply ashamed.

“You did good,” Ronon finally decided, slapping him hard, and Fernald stumbled a bit before nodding again.

“You performed bravely,” Teyla assured him.  “You are to be commended.”  And she touched his shoulder gently, inviting an embrace, only to be surprised when he turned away from her to move closer to Ronon, standing tall and putting on a blank face.

Sheppard kept moving through the wheat, coming to an abrupt stop.  “Shit…” he muttered. “Shit… shit… shit… SHIT!”

Teyla moved away from the kid.  “Colonel?” she queried.

“Found the Gate,” Sheppard said with a sigh.

She came alongside the American and gazed to the ground before them.  The Gate lay on its face, impacted into the earth, nestled in the grain.  She glanced up to the base.  The tornado, with its tremendous power, must have twisted the Gate's mooring, must have broken the base and freed it.  She returned his gaze to the downed Gate, wondering about the noise it must have made when it fell.

PART 5: RUMBLE

The rumbling of the crowd instantly stopped the moment Ronon opened the door to the Meeting Hall.  Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon walked in with Fernald right behind them.  Curious expressions turned their way.

Fernald broke off, trotting to a small group of people about his age, and started talking to them in a hushed voice, using wild gestures.  Sheppard and the others made a beeline to the back of the room where Beckett was talking to Rodney.

The scientist sat forward, his head in his hands, grouchily answering questions.  Beckett leaned toward the man, talking softly.  Carson smiled at their approach, obviously gladdened to have them back, but the carefree expression fell when they reached him.

“Where are the others?” he asked.

“They’re not coming,” Sheppard responded, then nodded to the Canadian who slowly raised his head to glare at him.  “How’s he doing?”

“Far from splendid,” Beckett replied.  “But coming around.  He’s going to have a headache for some time. Shouldn’t be movin’ around.  Those cuts and bruises need a chance to mend.  Should be in bed, if you ask…”

“What exactly did you mean,” Rodney cut in abruptly, “No one's coming?”

“Well, we got trouble,” John explained.  “Seems that another one of those tornadoes came through that area and kinda sideswiped the Gate.  Don’t know how much torque a Gate can take but…”

“What?” Rodney cried, jumping to his feet, and instantly regretted the idea.  He fell back to the seat, hissing miserably as he hunched his hurt shoulders and rested his even-paler head in his hands again.  “Ow…” he groaned as his lips quivered.

Beckett rested a hand gingerly on his arm.  “Now you know why I told you to keep still.”

"I’m… I’m going to be sick…" he said softly.

Carson, ready, jammed a bucket under his head just in time.  Sheppard and the others backed up a step or two as the scientist retched, and Beckett gently patted him on an unmarred part of his back. "There, there," the Scot crooned.  "That's what you get for doin' the opposite of what I've told you."

“I hate this,” McKay mumbled between painful spasms.

“I know, I know,” Beckett responded sympathetically, glancing up to the others.  “It’s not like any of us like it.”

“Yeah, McKay,” Sheppard said, keeping a jovial tone to his voice, even though he hated seeing his friend like this.  “Think you can hurry this up?”

Rodney just lifted his gaze for a moment at Sheppard, shooting death at him with his gaze.

When it appeared McKay was done, Carson took back the bucket, clamping a board over the top before he jammed it under the bench and handed Rodney a wet rag.

"It's not like I can help it," McKay whined, wiping his face, and accepting the cup that Beckett handed him.

Carson told him, "No more jumping to your feet like that. It's no good for your head."

"Tell me about it," McKay said, taking a drink.  His brow furrowed and he looked toward Sheppard.  “How?” he asked. 

“How now?” Sheppard replied, confused at the question.

Rodney gave him a dirty look.  “How did the Gate fall?”

Ronon shrugged.  “Fast?” he tried.  “Probably.  Wasn’t there to see it.”

Rodney glared.

“It fell forward,” Teyla explained. "And ended up flat on the ground not far from the base."

“Forward?  Face down?”  McKay’s angry expression was replaced with something softer and more frightened.  “We’re trapped?”

“Wait... wait… Maybe it’s not so bad,” Sheppard tried, "I read a report where SG1 came across the same thing and ..."

"Not the same!  Not the same. That Gate was on its back... this Gate is on its front, didn't you hear her?  No Kawoosh... no wormhole," McKay gibbered.   “We’re trapped!”

“Oh,” Sheppard responded.

"Trapped!" McKay repeated.

“Yeah, I got it,” Sheppard replied, frowning deeply as this fact set in.

“Great… Fantastic,” McKay responded, resting his head in his hands again.

Beckett looked hopeful.  “But we just wait for the Daedalus to come pick us up.  Not so bad then,” he said with a smile. “How long before we see our boys?  Should I start getting our patients ready for transport?”

“Not unless it takes you an awful long time to prep them,” McKay grumbled.  “They’re two weeks out.”

“Two weeks?” Beckett echoed, all the sunny hopefulness draining from his face.

“You know, they DO have to travel to Earth and back.  They’re not always around the corner just hanging out, waiting for us to get into trouble so that they can bail us out,” grumbled Rodney.  “So we have two weeks of fun here on Planet Fun.”

Sheppard sighed, watching Rodney.  He looked miserable, his shoulders covered with butterfly closures and bandages.  A dressing wrapped around his head made him look a little that pissed off fife player from “the Spirit of 76”.  He'd gained a quilt that was currently wrapped around his waist; his upper clothing had been a total loss.  He was still too pale and looked as if he really should be ensconced in Beckett’s infirmary.

And Albion wasn’t improving, Sheppard realized, watching Beckett move back to check on the woman.  The doctor’s face was bleak as he hunched over her, checking her vitals again.

There were a dozen other people here that could use a visit to a fully stocked hospital.  Beckett had done the best he could for all of them.  He was the finest doctor in the galaxy, and they could ask for no better, but their supplies were short.  Two weeks was an awful long time to wait.

Outside, thunder rumbled through the sky.

“You got any ideas, McKay?”  Sheppard asked.

Rodney snorted.  “Yeah, plenty.  I’m full of them.”

“Full of something,” Sheppard muttered, then added, “Any ideas on how we can get the Gate standing and operational again?”

McKay glanced up, giving Sheppard a baleful look.  He raised his voice so that everyone the room could hear.  “Anyone have a heavy duty crane stashed somewhere?”  He winced at the sound of his voice, gently cleared his throat, and tried again in a softer tone since the room had quieted,  “I’m going to need something capable of lifting some serious tonnage.  Maybe someone has a block and tackle capable of handling 64,000 pounds?  I don’t know how that translates to your local system of weights and measurements – maybe ’64,000 big-rocks’.”

With a sigh, Sheppard stated, “McKay…” trying to shut him up.

But Rodney’s aching head was down again, and he missed any visual cues that Sheppard was giving him – not that he responded to them on most occasions anyway.  “Or maybe you have a team of elephants, all harnessed up and ready to hoist that thing back into position?  We’d need at least a half dozen.”  There was no answer.  “It’s not going to happen,” he concluded.  “We’re stuck.  And some of us are just going to have to suffer more than others.”  He sighed, his voice lowering, “They have nothing here that can help us.  Didn’t you notice, it’s like a wild west town out there -- Rawhide-land.”

And then, quietly, people responded, but not how Sheppard expected.  Some of the Colo began moving toward them, slowly, cautiously, as if they were afraid of something, as if they were… guilty.

The remaining three Marines came to attention, watching the Colos' meandering course. Ames, still beside Albion, stood up and made a movement as if to stop his people – but there were too many, and in spite of themselves, too determined.

“It’s our fault,” Gilbert stated, an apparent leader of this group.  “This is all our fault.”

“Hold your tongue, Gilbert!” Ames demanded.

Clemmon glared at Ames.  “Our shield was here to protect us.  It always saved us in the past.  This destruction is a result of our wrongdoing.”

Ames tried to placate her. “This was unforeseeable.  How could we have known this would happen?”

“Wow, a tornado hitting your town when your shield is down – on a planet that has A LOT of tornadoes,” McKay grumbled, gritting his teeth.  “What a surprise.”

Ames stepped closer to Rodney and was countered by Ronon.  “Even with the shield, tornadoes rarely came in this direction,” he insisted.

“Rarely,” Sheppard repeated.

Gilbert spoke again.  “It is a sign, Ames, a true sign.  How else do you explain this happening so soon after we lost our shield?  We are being punished for giving it up.”

Sheppard sighed, not wanting to see the Colo tear themselves apart.  The last thing they needed was a rumble in this small building, all because of the sneaky Genii making off with their ZPM.  “Look,” he tried.  “It’s not your fault. Those folks can be pretty tenacious.  I know we’ve had our run-ins with them and they don’t let go when they have their eyes on something.”

“It is our punishment,” Clemmon insisted, her voice growing sharper as she glared at Ames.  “For listening to you, Ames.  You brought this to on us.”

“I did what was best for us,” Ames defended.  “Best for all of us.”  He made an open armed gesture to the room.  Everyone’s attention was on him.  “I did this to project us!”

“Protect?” Gilbert grumbled. "Do you see what's happened around you?"

“There was agreement,” Ames reminded. “The council agreed to it.”

Teyla looked sympathetic.  “The Genii promised to protect you if they took your ZPM?” she asked.

"The Genii?" Clemmon asked, surprised.

"They took your ZPM," Teyla coached.

Clemmon snorted.  “Not the Genii.   They wouldn’t do such a thing.  They are good people”

“Oh,” McKay commented.  “We could tell you a thing or two…”

Ronon and the others made sounds of agreement.

“Quiet, Gilbert, Clemmon,” Ames hissed.  “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I would gladly deal with Genii.  They are at least… human,” Clemmon spat out.  “You made the deal, Ames, and presented it to us as if we had little choice.  You should’ve known it would come out exactly like this.  We suffer now because of your deal.  We must make amends.”

“It was wrong in every way,” Gilbert continued, “making a deal with… them.”

“It was for the good of everyone!”  Ames reached for Gilbert, but Ronon was there, shoving the man back.  The Marines closed in.

“So…” Sheppard drew out.  “What is this ‘deal’ all about.”

“Don’t!” Ames ordered, straining against Ronon’s grasp.

Clemmon crossed her arms over her chest.  “What difference will it make if they know, Ames?  They can’t leave, can they?  They’re stuck here.”

“What’s going on?” Sheppard growled, looking from one Colo to the next.

“Don’t say a word,” Ames muttered.  “I did it for all of us.  To save us.”

But Clemmon looked unmoved and she faced the strangers, saying defiantly, “He made a deal with the Wraith.”

Ronon made a sound, a rumble in his throat.  Teyla stared at them, wide-eyed in disbelief.  Rodney raised his head, and gave them a withering glance, then let his head fall back to his hands.  Beckett could only tsk, feeling woeful at their words.

"A deal?" Sheppard echoed.  "With the Wraith?  Do you know ANYONE who gets a good deal out of those guys?"

“You agreed to it!” Ames shouted pointing a finger at Gilbert and some of the other Colo.  Ronon growled, and Ames made a little cry as the Satedan pushed him.

“We’d been attacked,” Gilbert explained.  “Some of our people were outside the shield.  They captured Ames … and Albion and two others.”

“Quiet, Gilbert!” Ames growled.

“There were two Wraith.  They fed off our people,” Gilbert stated, and then paused, and the whole room fell silent with him – the only sound was Ames’ heavy breathing.

“We were dead!” Ames cried.  “We were so close to death I could taste it on my lips.  But we were saved. Albion and me!  Nothing could be done for the others.  It was too late.  It was… unfortunate.”

John drew back a step or two, his eyes fixed on Ames, who looked about wildly.  Their eyes met.  The colonel searched those eyes, looking for something familiar.

Gilbert continued the tale, his voice low and solemn, “Ames and Albion returned, vital and alive.  Alleman and Zearing did not.”

Sheppard kept his gaze on Ames, watching him, and wondered if he was anything like this man.

“They didn’t want us for our lifeforce,” Ames insisted, clawing at his chest.  “They wanted a pact with us!  They proved it by returning our lives to us.  The others… I don’t know.  It just was too late.”

"No one returns from the Wraith," Clemmon stated.  “We were overjoyed that they came back to us."

Teyla glanced to John, who hadn’t taken his gaze from Ames.  Softly, she said, “We can imagine it.”

“Ames made a bargain,” Gilbert went on.  “The Wraith would leave our town alone, never both us again.  We would be allowed to live in peace, to prosper.”

With a sigh, Sheppard asked, “What did they want?  What did you give them for 'life'.”

Gilbert bowed his head and continued, “Two things.”

Still hunched miserably, Rodney muttered, “The ZPM.  You gave it to them.”

Clemmon nodded.  “Yes.  They wanted it as a show of trust,” she said, glaring at Ames.  “And he gave it away.  Left us open to the tornadoes.”

Ames looked incredulous.  “They needed proof!  Proof that we trusted them!”

“It was a wonderful promise,” Clemmon said, but her voice had a hollow ring to it as she looked about the room.  “How could we have trusted them?”

“We didn’t think about the tornadoes,” Ames insisted.  “It was an accident. It was bad luck.  The deal is still good.”

“It was justice,” Clemmons whispered.

“They promised us life!” Ames insisted.

“They’ll come back and cull everyone,” Ronon said, disgusted with them.

“No!  They made a deal…” Ames insisted.

Sheppard shook his head.  “The Wraith… they never keep their promises.   God, not once.”

“And now you are without your shield,” Teyla said sadly.

Clemmon nodded.  “We gave them the means to destroy us.”  She turned her piercing glare on Ames.  “You’ve destroyed us all.”

“I saved us!” Ames declared.

“You’re all as good as dead,” Ronon responded.

The Colo shifted uncomfortably, their voices rumbling like thunder in the room.

Sheppard stared at Governor's Assistant, blocked by the Satedan, and then looked away, realizing that he was nothing like this Colo. “What else?” Sheppard asked.  “You said there were two things.”

Gilbert looked from Sheppard, and then to the other strangers.  After drawing in a slow breath, he responded quietly, “You… they wanted you.”

Sheppard frowned at Gilbert’s words and the room fell silent for only a moment.

Simultaneously, Ronon let out a growl as Rodney cried an infuriated, “What?”  An act that he instantly regretted.

“The Wraith want you,” Gilbert went on, focusing at Sheppard, recognizing a man in command.  “They didn’t know where you were since the home of the Ancestors was destroyed.”  He bowed his head momentarily at mention of that incident, and all the Colo bowed with him.  “They needed a means of finding you.”

Clemmon added, “A means of calling you out of the shadows.”

“And a shield system with a missing ZPM was just the ticket to bring us here,” Rodney surmised.  “We couldn’t resist seeing that, could we?”

“Fantastic,” Sheppard grumbled, liking this place less and less with every moment.

“Why did the Wraith take the ZPM?” Teyla asked.  “Certainly we would have come if we knew that you had a ZPM.”

“That’d bring McKay real fast,” Sheppard decided, watching Ronon.  The Satedan’s demeanor had changed – no longer was he just spoiling for a fight with Ames – he was moving toward the door, his hand twitching near his blaster.  He looked like a kenneled dog that knew a trespasser was in the yard.

Rodney sighed resignedly.   “Why would the Wraith risk letting a ZPM fall into our hands?” he asked.  “Why would they leave these people with an active shield?”

With a nod, Sheppard had to admit, “You got a point.”  He kept his eyes on Ronon, watching the man pace.

“Of course I do,” Rodney went on.  He smiled a little, but it didn’t hide the fact that he looked pale, shaky.  “Don’t I always?”

“Not particularly,” Beckett said with a sigh, sitting beside his friend and gently grasping his wrist to take his pulse.  Obviously Carson had noticed Rodney’s state, too.  “Not always.”  He tugged at the quilt that had fallen, bringing it up to Rodney's shoulders.

“True,” Sheppard said, nodding toward the CMO.  “Not always.”

Rodney gave Carson a disgusted look, but didn’t pull his arm away and didn't shake off the blanket.  With a sigh, he said, “They left these people with a problem that’d force us to stay a while.  I mean, if they had the ZPM, we could have just done a ‘grab and go’. I wouldn’t have hung around if I didn’t have to.”  And he winced again, looking miserable as he hunched on the wooden bench.

Carson released his wrist, but remained where he was sitting.  “Sounds right,” he said.

“Of course it’s right!” McKay snapped in return.

Glancing up to the others, Beckett stated, “The Wraith left these people defenseless with none to call but ourselves.  Those bloody creatures knew exactly what they were doin’.”

“They knew we’d come,” Sheppard concluded, scowling.  “They just lucked out that the Gate fell over, trapping us.”  He paused a moment, realizing, “Which would also explain why they haven’t shown up yet.  We can’t get out and they can’t come in to get us.”

Sheppard glanced toward Ronon again, watching him and the anger that seemed to bubble forth.  “So,” the colonel started, “how do the Wraith know we’re here?”

Rodney lowered his head for only a second, and before it shot up again.  “Oh!” he exclaimed, his expression worried.  He half stood, but winced, his whole face contorting and he crumpled back in his seat.

“Easy now,” Beckett exclaimed, helping him settle in his place.  McKay pressed his lips tightly together, but when Carson reached for the bucket again, Rodney gave his head a tiny shake.

But Sheppard knew McKay too well. “What?” Sheppard interrupted.  “McKay,” Sheppard continued.  “What are you thinking?”

“Transmitter!” Rodney got out, cradling his head miserably.

“What transmitter?” Sheppard questioned.

“I didn’t know what it was when I saw… when I …”  All eyes were on him as he kept his head down.  “When I woke up, under that building, I saw it.  Wraith technology... I don’t believe it was active at the time, but...”

Teyla turned, coming to a realization.  “Ames activated it after the tornado,” she declared, narrowing her eyes.  “He left the building just before I found you by the wreckage.”

Ronon stiffened, turning on Ames, growling.  In a flash, he darted to the door.  Sheppard watched him go, the phrase ‘release the hounds’ playing through his head.

Looking up, McKay caught only the slam of the door.  Around them, the anxious Colo people were up and moving about, looking cowed and beaten.  Sheppard took a strong disliking toward them.

“Colonel!” Rodney cried.  “Don’t let Conan destroy that device!  It's obviously more than just a transmitter!  I mean, it’s big.  I need to know what it’s capable of doing.  We might need something from it.  He can’t just blow it up!”

“Gotcha,” Sheppard responded as he spun about and took after Ronon.  With any luck, he could catch up to the man before he blasted the thing to smithereens.  He dashed through the door and into the street, catching sight of Ronon as he reached the wreckage of the Governor’s Palace.  “Ronon!  Stop!  Hold up!  Wait!”

Dex kept moving, clambering over the smashed bits of the building.

“Ronon!  Stop!” John shouted uselessly.  Finally, with a frown, he pulled out the big guns, barking out,  “Dex!  Stop!  That’s an order!”

With a snarl, Ronon came to a halt, turning to face his commander.  “If that device is active…”

“Then they’ve already got the message,” Sheppard told him as he hurried to catch up.  “Damn it!”

“Maybe the signal hasn’t reached them,” Ronon responded.  “Gate isn’t working.”

“Yeah,” Sheppard agreed, working his way past Ronon, “McKay wants it turned off nicely though.  He might be able to use the technology to our advantage.  Got it?”

Ronon didn’t respond immediately.  John looked over his shoulder, seeing a disappointed, yet understanding expression.    There’d be no blowing up of Wraith Tech today.

“So,” John started, “You going to show me where you found him?”

With a curt nod, Dex started moving again, quickly finding his way back into the bowels of the building.

PART 6:  BLIP

Beckett moved around nervously, checking one patient and then the next, until he was at Albion again.  Her color still wasn’t good.  She was bleeding internally.  He knew it.  He’d done what he could to relieve her pain, but she’d need surgery if she were to survive.

She was awake again, barely, and gazing up at him with liquid eyes.  Ames held her hand, petting it gently.  Time was wasting.

And the Gate was gone, fallen over, unusable.

From one bench down, McKay called, “Colonel, are you there?” He adjusted the radio with one hand as he fiddled with his data tablet in the other.  “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” The response came over the radio.

“Oh, good… good,” Rodney looked up and met Beckett’s gaze with a satisfied smile.  “You there yet?”

“Just about.  Hang on.”  There was the sound of scrambling and shuffling.  “God, this is an obnoxious place.  What the hell were you doing down here?”

“Like I had a choice!” McKay bit back, his voice rising.

“Rodney,” Teyla stated, moving toward the door and neatly avoiding the meandering Colo.  “I should go with them. I might be able to manipulate the device, mentally, and…”

Waving a hand to silence her, McKay stated, “Won’t be necessary.  We’re shutting it down.  I mean, not in the Ronon way of shutting it down, but it’s getting shut off.”

“Perhaps it would be of more help to transmit a different message?” Teyla tried.

“Yes!” Beckett interjected, feeling a sudden surge of optimism.  “We could do that.  Tell them something like ‘So sorry.  Mistake.  We didn’t mean to set off the signal’ or maybe ‘They were here and they’ve left.  No need to stop by’.”  Carson nodded enthusiastically.  “We send them somewhere else!”

Rodney looked at him as he’d had grown an extra head.  “No,” he replied bluntly.

“Well, it’d be better than doin’ nothing,” Beckett tried.

With a groan, Rodney told them, “It’s not even sending out a ‘message’ per se.”  He poked at his data tablet a few times, and held up the device so that Carson could see the screen.

Beckett looked at it a moment, but with a frustrated sigh, told the Canadian, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be lookin’ at.”

“Look!  Here!” Rodney responded, pointing to a graph – little more than a line with a series of spikes at the same interval.  “It’s rather like the device that was imbedded in Teyla’s necklace.  It’s just a repeating ‘blip’ and nothing more.  It’s a dinner gong.”

Beckett regarded the little graph and then said the only thing that came to his mind, a crestfallen little, “Oh.”  He’d excepted more.

Teyla touched her neck as she said, “This transmitter is large?  When I…” and she paused, as if shamed, “When I carried one of their transmitters, it was no larger than a pendant.”

“Different technology.  This device is probably capable of doing a lot more than just going ‘beep’.  I’m sorry, but I didn’t have time to study it when I saw it, being crushed and all.”

Teyla nodded.  “And by shutting it off, what will we accomplish?  It has been on for some time and they have, most likely, already received the message.”

With a groan, Rodney returned to resting his head in one hand.  “I know,” he told her.  “They’re probably already coming.”  And he glanced upward as if expecting the whine of a Wraith dart in the sky.  “But we’re probably better off with the thing NOT active when they get here.  No telling how they planned to use it.”

“They can’t come by Gate,” Beckett tried hopefully.  “That was probably their plan.  What with it falling over, that option’s been shut down.  So, that’s a good thing, right?”

McKay frowned.  “No, not at all.  It means we’ll be facing down a Hive ship instead of just a few random darts.  So… the good news is, we have the time to put our affairs in order.”

“Okay, we’re here,” Sheppard’s voice called over the radio.  “Nice spider hole, McKay.” The words were meant to be lighthearted, but Beckett heard the disquiet that went with the comment.

“What do we do now?” Sheppard asked.

“You should be able to reach under the main section of the console.  You’re going to remove the power source.”  He started describing the steps as clearly as possible, eyes still shut, pantomiming the actions as he went.  Beckett watched the movements, fascinated by the graceful movements, as McKay kept talking, working out the steps physically as he described them, remembering what he’d learned from the Wraith’s database.

Beckett stood beside Teyla, as Rodney quickly, brusquely, worriedly, intricately described the steps.  The process ended with a quick, “Got it,” from Sheppard and a relieved sigh from McKay as he glanced at his data tablet again.

“Good,” McKay said.  “No longer transmitting!  Great.  Okay.  That did us a lot of good.”  And he sighed, sounding defeated, as he leaned back in the pew for a second, only to sit forward immediately with a hiss as his tattered back came in contact with the wood.  Beckett gave him an understanding pat on the leg and wished he’d brought a better supply of gear with him.  Pain relievers were at a premium.  Beckett had given McKay only Tylenol, not wanting to give him too heavy a medication, considering the concussion.

“Now,” McKay stated over the radio.  “Do you think you can get that console here?  I’d like to … you know… check it out.  See what they were planning to use it for.”

There was a shuffle, a quick argument.  They heard, “Let me…” and “Fine!” and then Sheppard stated, “Ronon’s got it.  We’re coming back.”

“Great,” McKay replied.

“Now what?” Beckett asked hopefully as he made his way back to Albion.

Rubbing his head again, McKay admitted, “I don’t know.”

“But we have to think of something,” Beckett reacted.  “We’re sitting ducks here, and Albion isn’t going to last long unless she’s seen to properly.”  And others, too, he thought as he gazed at the pale physicist, might be in the same jeopardy.

Annoyed, McKay grumbled, “If she needs ‘seeing to’, then see to her.  I mean, you are the doctor, aren’t you?”

Beckett closed his eyes a moment to suppress a shout.  “I don’t have the proper equipment,” he responded sharply.   “She needs surgery and this is hardly a sterile environment.  I’d rather this be done back in the infirmary or in a proper hospital setting.  I wouldn’t want to risk it here unless there was no other way.”

“Well, looks like we’re running out of choices,” McKay muttered.  “We’re not going anywhere.  Besides, you, if anyone, can do it.  So what’s the problem?”

Beckett felt the touch of Teyla’s hand on his arm, and she smiled at him.  “I have faith in you, Carson,” she told him.

With everything going so badly around them, Beckett didn’t have the same confidence as Teyla.  He glanced to Ames who was holding Albion’s hand and talking quietly.  She answered in one-word sentences, her face tight.  It was only a matter of time…

“Right,” Beckett breathed out, looking about the room, the Marines and the Colo, figuring out what he had to work with.  “Let’s get started then.”

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

CONTINUE

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