Whirlwind - Section 2
By NotTasha

PART 7: OOMPH

The clouds over Colo rolled like hills, promising that the weather would remain unsettled.  The drenching rain and fierce winds had abated – for the time being at least.  If nothing else, the lull allowed them time to complete their task without getting soaked.

The shield device was quickly located in the destroyed Governor’s Palace, sheered from its base by the force of the tornado.  Remarkably, it appeared otherwise undamaged, but it was considerably heavier than the Wraith device from the basement.  With a bit of strain and effort, they lifted it upright again, and then Sheppard, Ronon and Woodward dragged it as Radcliff cleared the way through the debris to get it into the main road.

They were just preparing for their next push, hauling it down the street and to the Meeting Hall, and then up the steps, when Gilbert and Clemmon appeared with a dray that proved perfect for their use.  With only one axle, the flat wagon was easily tipped back.  Between the six of them, they were shoved the shield device to the back of the wagon’s platform and then levered the vehicle forward and back into position.

It creaked, it groaned, but the wagon held as they drove it the short distance to the Meeting Hall and delivered the shield device directly to the front porch.

By the time the contraption was waggled into the room, Albion had been moved to Beckett’s surgical theatre and his little med team was prepped and ready, and going through some final instructions behind the pulled sheets.

“Ah, you found it,” McKay said unnecessarily as he shuffled across the room, placing a hand on top of the device.  He smiled as if he’d found an old friend.

“It was pretty much where you left it,” Sheppard told him as he rolled his shoulders, feeling his scrapes and bruises from the earlier assault with the tornado.  “Everything around it had moved, though.  It’s a heavy son of a bitch.”

“Well, it should be,” McKay pronounced as he squatted beside it, steadying himself.  “It was designed to protect this whole area, all the way to the Gate and beyond.  That has to carry some weight.”

With Rodney sitting below him, Sheppard could easily see the red spotting into the bandages across his shoulders and back.  He moved stiffly, like an old man, constantly needing to grasp something to keep upright.  The dressing around his head had slipped a little, leaving it at a jaunty angle as he worked.

The colonel glanced to Ronon, who could only shrug in response.  It wasn’t as if they had a choice in the matter.  McKay was still mobile and he was the only one who had a chance of making the shield work again.  The person who could take care of Rodney was now occupied with another more pressing matter, and they were nearly out of bandages again.  What little remained had been set aside for Albion.

“Rodney,” Sheppard said quietly.  “Now that we’ve moved it here, why don’t you take a break.  You can get started after Beckett’s had a chance to check your back again.  I think you’re coming apart at the seams a bit.”

“What?” McKay asked, hand reaching toward his back, but restrained his movement almost immediately.  “Ow… Where?”

Sheppard pointed to Rodney’s back, but realized that McKay couldn’t see the worst of the issues in any case.  Sheppard stilled the gesture.  “Just take a seat for a bit, okay, Rodney,” he tried.

“I would if there was time.”  He looked up, seeing the Woodward and Radcliff standing about. “Can’t you make yourselves useful?”  He snapped his fingers irritably at them.  “I need my pack.”

With a glance, Shepard directed Sgt. Woodward to fetch the bag, while, from inside the surgical tent, Carson spoke, saying they were putting Albion under.

McKay was already tinkering within the shield system when Woodward returned with the pack.  The sergeant said nothing, waiting.  In the tent, Beckett spoke to Teyla, reiterating how to monitor Albion’s breathing and lifesigns.

Rodney, too involved in what he was doing, didn’t realize Woodward was holding out the requested pack.  It took a moment, but McKay finally made an annoyed sound and snatched the bag from the sergeant.

Randall Woodward dutifully stepped back, and glanced to his CO, trying not to look offended.

Sheppard saw the hesitation, and gave his people their orders, “Woodward, hang close in case McKay needs something.  Radcliff, stay near Beckett’s surgery.  Be available if he has any requests.”

Radcliff quickly complied, and Sheppard returned his attention to Rodney.  “So, can you get it working?”

Fretting about with the device, McKay stated, “if I can just mate up Wraith technology with Ancient, we’ll be in business.”

“If?” Sheppard interrupted.

“Thought you said you could do this?” Ronon added.

“Even if I do manage it (and I will), the power just isn’t going to last,” McKay groused.  “Definitely not two weeks.  But I suspect you and some of the others will be running around outside the shield, trying to protect the rest of us.”  He said these words tightly, as if he didn’t want to consider it too deeply.  “How long can you hold off the Wraith with just P90’s?”

“I brought a grenade launcher,” Randall said helpfully.

“Good for you,” McKay snarked. “One grenade launcher -- and a hive ship is coming. What if they aren’t impressed by our ability to create a shield after they took away its power?  What if they decide to hang around to see if they can break it down?  What if they decide they don’t like being shot at with peashooters?  What if they figure out where their tank-o-gas is located and start targeting it?”

Sheppard raised his eyebrows. “Will they?” he asked.  “I thought you said that it was harmless now that the power source…”

McKay waved a hand, dismissing him.  “Yes, yes,” he stated.  “Probably.”  He sighed, glancing toward it.  “As much as I hate to say it, the safest place to keep it would probably be with us – under the shield.  If we were to stash it somewhere else in the town, some stray shot might hit it and – FSST! We’re all goners, or at least nicely paralyzed for the Wraith to find us.”

“The shield isn’t airtight?” Sheppard asked.

“I believe air does circulate through.  And if it did seal completely, it would eventually suffocate everyone,” McKay muttered.

Eyeing the Wraith console unhappily, Sheppard sighed.  “Good to know.”

“And if the shield fails, we’re all dead anyway, so…”

“McKay…” Sheppard warned.

“Fine!” McKay snapped.  “Even if I get this shield operational and that bomb doesn’t go off -- we have two weeks before the Daedalus gets here.”

Ronon shifted a little, and stated, “If we could use the Gate, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

 “I KNOW!” Rodney snarled.  “Problem!  We have a big problem, and we’ve gone over this before!  Elephants!  Do you remember me mentioning elephants?”

“What else can we use?”  Sheppard asked.

“64,000 pounds!  To get it up again is going to take Herculean power.  Then we’d have to balance it just right on the dais and that’ll take a hell of a lot of engineering.  I don’t know how I’ll manage it with the supplies we have on hand.”

Sheppard thought a moment and asked, “Does it have to be on the base?”

“Not on the base?  How else will it remain upright?  What do you expect me to brace it with?”

Sheppard leaned forward.  “The big problem was that it’s on its face, right?  What if we…”

“Hang on… hang on…”  McKay set down his tools to free up his hands.  “Yes, if we could just turn it over,” he demonstrated with his hands.  “Flipping it would be a lot easier than trying to set it upright.  Not a whole lot of finesse required, and once that’s done we could wire it into the DHD and – Ta-da -- wormhole could form.  Stepping through a Gate that’s flat on the ground is a good way to break your arm, though.”  He paused to let out a bit of a chuckle.

His hands stayed where they were, still illustrating a flipped over Gate.  “It could work… but how?”  With a sigh, he let the hands drop, and felt around for the screwdriver.  It had rolled away.  “But… we’re still stuck.”

Helpfully, Randall had grabbed the rolling screwdriver and he proffered it to the scientist, who glared and snatched it from him.  “Yes,” Rodney continued.  “Easier to flip it than to stand it, but it still would need a lot of oomph,” McKay complained.  “If we’d only brought a jumper with us, we’d be all set.  But no… I distinctly recall someone saying ‘McKay could use the exercise.  We don’t need a jumper’.”

Sheppard listened as McKay rambled, and Ronon watched Sheppard.  Randall tried to stay out of the way.

“Anyway, the long and short of all this is…” McKay went on.  “This shield device is all we have at the moment and we could really use more power to keep it going.”  He tapped it with the screwdriver.  “Especially if we’re expecting a two week Siege.”

“And where do you hope to get more power?”

“I have no idea,” Rodney sighed, he set the screwdriver down again and returned to his pack.  “If we could just get our hands on another power source or two, I’d feel a lot better.  And this is all about making me feel better, isn’t it?”   The head dressing suddenly slipped a bit, and fell into Rodney’s eyes to accent the comment.  He grumbled and hooked a thumb under it, pulling it off his head and flinging it.  The bandage didn’t go far.

Annoyed, he pulled a scanner from his pack along with a handful of other devices, lining them up beside him for quick use. 

“We have to work with what we have,” Sheppard reminded. He stared at the mix of Ancient devices, pondering them.  Then asked, “How many of those do you have?”

“Huh?” McKay glanced up a moment; the ugly looking cut on his bruised head was evident now that the bandage was gone. “I only bring what I need,” he defended.

“How much power do those things have?” Sheppard pressed.

Rodney grinned proudly as he snatched up one of the pieces.  “The power contained in any one of these devices can keep it operational for…”

He paused, his eyes lighting up.  “Yes… yes… power… the oomph we need.”  He tapped a finger to the side of the device.  “I might be able to make something.  I mean, maybe a last gasp backup battery after the Wraith power source fails – and it will.”

“Every little bit helps,” Sheppard stated.  Then, after a moment he added,  “The Ancients were never that tidy, were they?”

“I always thought they were quite clean,” McKay told him.  “They’re almost obsessed with it.  They want everything dust-free.  And, my God, they have some sort of sick obsession with bathrooms.  You can’t go five paces down a hallway in Atlantis without running into one.”

“But they leave a lot of stuff behind, don’t they?” Sheppard led.  “They created a shield here, they must have been here for a while, right?”

“And they probably brought more toys with them,” McKay completed.  “And maybe our friends here have found them over time.”  He frowned, adding, “Good luck in shaking any loose out of them.  The natives tend to cling to their ‘pretty things’ when they get their hands on them.  And there’s something suspicious about this group.”

Ronon, who had stood silently, nodded and broke away, striding into the middle of the room.  He gave a quick glance at the Colo.  The people sat around him with heads bowed, looking humbled and cowed.  Since they’d learned about the tank in the Wraith device, they’d become even more withdrawn – as if they’d finally, totally, realized how thoroughly the Wraith had screwed them.

Ronon grimaced at them, disgusted.

He glanced once toward the surgery, then said in a loud voice that still seemed to shake the rafters.  “Bring us all devices left by the Ancestors.  Now.  Or we will all die at the hands of the Wraith.”

Nobody moved at first as the Colo looked at the giant man.  The room was small enough, and Rodney’s voice loud enough – the must have heard the conversation that led to the demand.

A quiet buzz of conversation followed.  Slowly, some of them -- in ones and twos – stood, and they hurried to the door, skirting the Satedan in the middle of the room.

Ronon folded his arms over his chest and looked victorious as the little groups slipped from the building.

McKay gave Sheppard a lopsided grin, either marveling at the Dex touch, or wondering about what sort of things might be returned.

Once the door to the outside had shut, Beckett spoke from within the surgery.  “Okay then,” he stated.  “She’s under.  We’re going to start.  I’m need you all to keep quiet as we’re doing difficult work.  No more shouting or messing about.”

Rodney frowned, whispering harshly to Sheppard.  “That was for Ronon, right?  I wasn’t shouting at all, was I?”

“That means you, too, Rodney,” Beckett called from inside the makeshift room.

Rodney scowled and dipped his head, going back to working on the shield.

The room fell quiet.  Radcliff stood sentry at the surgery, as if expecting that someone might storm it.   The rest of the Colo sat, waiting.

The only things heard were the movements within the surgery – ticks and clinks of tools, strange wet sounds and other odd noises that went with cutting into a human body.  Carson’s steady and calming timbre instructed his assistants as he continued the work.

Although his voice remained calm, there was a strain heard by those who knew him best.  Sheppard knew that Beckett must hate this, forced to operate under these condition, but his voice remained soothing. When a tool was dropped, Beckett calmly stated, “That’s okay, Max.  There’s another.”  And the surgery continued.

McKay, working to connect the power source, made similar sounds, but his voice lacked the calm of Carson as he occasionally ordered Woodward into some sort of support.

In the peace of the moment, Sheppard stood.  There was nothing he could do here.  He surveyed the room, then moved toward the door and out onto the porch.  Ronon, after a moment, followed.

The town was just as ruined as the last time they’d seen it, but here and there, the people of Colo were rooting through the wreckage, in search of their Ancient Heirlooms, and maybe a finding their chance at surviving.

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

“How’s it going?” Rodney asked as he poked his battered head from the building.  “Did they find anything worthwhile yet?”

Sheppard leaned back in a chair he’d been able to recover.  He nodded to the items stacked along the porch.  One area was stocked with foodstuffs, more blankets, buckets and barrels – the supplies needed to see them through.  Beside the larger mounds, the little pile of devices seemed miniscule.  “We have a few things.  They’re still looking.  With their homes all blown to bits they’re having some trouble finding their favorite Ancestral backscratcher.”

“Hmph,” McKay responded, stepping from the Meeting Hall and toward the cache.  He carefully crouched down to inspect what they’d found, swaying and reaching a hand to grasp the porch railing to keep from falling over.

Ronon, who’d been leaning against a roof support, moved closer.

Rodney, oblivious, rooted through the findings, occasionally making happy sounds of discovery as devices lit up for him, but mostly appearing annoyed and despondent with the findings.  One device, flat, nearly featureless and as large as a hand annoyed him more than any.  He set it aside.

Sheppard watched him work. He didn’t spend much time on his haunches and quickly resorted to sitting down on the porch as he shuffled through the pile of trip-trap.  The reddish spots on bandages had grown, and the wound on his head oozed.

Beckett wouldn’t be happy.

Soon Rodney was resting his head on the railing along with his hand.

“How’re you doing?” Sheppard asked casually.

“I have completed the installation,” McKay said with a grin.  “Did the impossible – again.  Thank you very much.”

Nodding at the response, Sheppard asked, “Did you test it?”

“Not yet,” Rodney replied.  “Not until Beckett is done.  Figured it wasn’t a good idea to fire up the thing while he’s still, you know, stitching her up.”

“So he’s done? How’s Albion?” Sheppard continued the questioning.

“Ha!” McKay exclaimed, grasping one of the devices with a look of rapture that fell slightly when he remembered why they were collecting these things.  “Oh, success!” he stated.  “He said that it was going well and she was probably going to be fine.  Something about a ruptured spleen I think.  Anyway, he was just finishing her up.  Said Teyla and whats-his-face did a great job.”

On cue, the door opened behind them, and Teyla quietly exited the Meeting Hall, her face a quiet mask.  She smiled at Sheppard and then Ronon, her gaze finally falling on Rodney’s back – the man was too occupied with checking through the latest pile of toys to pay her any mind.

“I hear things went well?” Sheppard queried.

She nodded and moved quietly down the porch to find an empty seat next to Sheppard’s.   For a moment, the four of them were alone on the porch – Sheppard and Teyla side by side, McKay sitting on the porch with the Ancient devices, and Ronon watching over them.

Sheppard glanced to Teyla, watching her as she looked out over the town.  The sun was going down, bathing the shattered street in golden light.  She realized his scrutiny, and turned to him slowly, her face expressing that she was fine, but she needed this moment of peace, of ‘not explaining’.

So, he followed her wishes and nothing was said.  It was rather ‘nice’, all things considered.

Nobody spoke until McKay had finished his examination of the goods.

“Well, I might get something out of this,” he muttered.  “I might be able to sustain a shield with the power cells that are here.  And that, mind you, would be a feat of incredible talent.  I just can’t promise you it’d last for any length of time.  We better hope and pray that the Wraith power source lasts long enough to keep the Wraith at bay.  I bet they’ll love that!”

Sheppard knew that this wasn’t enough.  Hiding under a shield and hoping the Wraith gave up, wouldn’t save them.  It would buy them time, but not enough.

Their survival depended on getting off the planet.  The Wraith had the patience of Job, and expecting them to get fed up and leave was a poor gamble.

This was going to be bad. They were sitting ducks.  They needed something to fight the Wraith.  They needed something to tip the scales in their favor.

He glanced up when Fernald moved out of the rubble and came toward them.  The young man looked excited, cradling something in his arms as he hurried, something long and awkward.  Ronon came to attention at the sight.

“Found it,” Fernald announced, huffing as he reached the steps.  “I knew it was there somewhere. It just took a while to find it.  My cousin Ankeny kept this in his…”

He was cut off as Ronon met him, reached and latched onto the device and lifted it relentlessly from his grasp.  Fernald scrambled backward, looking up in awe.

The Satedan hefted it, holding it to his shoulder, and sighting along its length.  He smiled broadly, and then looked at the tall teen.  “A gun,” he declared happily.  “What’s it do?”

Fernald looked stunned.  “I don’t know.  It’s always been on his mantle.”

“Mantle?  Great place to store it.”  Rodney was beside Ronon and made a vague attempt to tug the device free from Dex.  Ronon wouldn’t give.  McKay made a pathetic sound, moaning, “Come on, I need to see it to figure out what it does.”

“It blows things up,” Ronon surmised.  He knew a gun when he saw it.  And this was a big gun.

“Maybe not!  Come on!” Rodney tried.

“Ronon,” Sheppard said, his voice low. He found himself hating the tone – rather like a mother trying to get her children to behave – a little like the tone Weir sometimes used with them.  “Let Rodney see it.”

Ronon grumbled and thrust the big device at the scientist.  McKay stumbled a bit, catching himself before he fell over.  He scowled at the big Satedan.

Now that he had it in his grasp, he frowned as the display remained dim.  After a moment or two of scrutiny, he found a piece dangling on a bit of change.  “What’s this?” he asked.

Fernald shrugged.

Looking unhappy at the response, McKay examined the big gun as he held onto the smaller piece.  He smiled suddenly, and taking the part between his first finger and thumb, he inserted it into the body of the bigger device.

The thing lit up, making a happy hum that brought an even happier sound from the physicist.  Displays and panels illuminated, showing off power levels, elevation, range, distance, size, suspected speed.  “A key,” McKay voiced.  “needs a key to work.” 

“Why do you think they need that?” Sheppard asked.  “Isn’t the gene a key?”

McKay thought a moment.  “Probably it’s a power drain thing.  I’m betting this uses a substantial amount of power and the key is just a means of priming it.”  He seemed pleased with his discover. And as he examined the displays, he uttered a quiet, “Hmmm.”  And then an “Oh!”

“What is it?” Sheppard questioned.

Rodney kept his attention on the device as he leaned against the building.  He declared, “It has enough power to keep our shield going for days.  A week maybe if we keep the circumference at a minimum. With this, we don’t even need the Wraith device.”

“What’s it for?” Sheppard asked again.

Rodney turned it about, still checking it over, but paused as he considered.  “I guess I’d call it an EMP Gun.”

When the others looked at him blankly, he continued, “It can direct an extremely focused electromagnetic pulse at an object.  See here,” he tapped on the display.  “It let’s you pick out exactly what you’re hunting for and locks onto it.”

“It shuts down electronics?” Sheppard surmised, pulling the device from Rodney’s hands.  The scientist tried to resist, but he obviously didn’t have it in him at the moment.  “Now, that’s what I call ‘oomph’.”

“From what I gather,” Rodney stated, looking smug,  “It’s designed to totally shut down all electronic systems on any device whatsoever, and does it with surgical precision.”

“So… it doesn’t blow things up…” Sheppard said, throwing Ronon a glance, “But it will take out anything in the sky?”

“Barring dirigibles, gliders and kites, yes,” McKay shot back.

“I like this thing,” Sheppard responded, trying it out and focusing it on the remnants of the town, watching as the display searched for anything with an electronic signature.

Ronon’s hand clamped down on the barrel, as he spoke with a rumble, “Probably makes sense to have the best shot take this one,” he told Sheppard.  And the two men glared at each other over the weapon.

McKay watched as Sheppard and Ronon battled over the device, and glanced to Teyla.  “I take it, we’re not using the power source for the shield.”

She smiled at him, moving past the boys to stand beside him, planting a hand under his elbow to stop a subtle sway.  “Yes,” she responded.  “It would seem that way.”

PART 8:  WUP

“Okay, ah…” McKay hunched beside the shield device, making a few final adjustments before running his test.  “It might be a good idea if you all… step back a bit.”  He fluttered a hand at the general crowd without looking at them.  “Don’t want to sheer off anyone’s limbs if I can help it.” And he glanced up, smiling as if he’d made a joke.

He was met with horrified expressions from the Colo, and disgusted looks from his group.  One child started to cry. 

“Not that I would intentionally cut off someone’s arm,” he insisted.

The group edged away, giving the scientist a ‘buffer’ zone.  Apparently satisfied with the space, Rodney touched the main panel of the device and, with a quiet hum, the shield activated.  It unfurled, starting at the ground – first forming a little wall around the Canadian, that came up and domed over the top of him and the device.  It made a little ‘wup’ sound as the hole sealed at the top.

Under the lamplight of the room, the shield glowed a pleasant mauve.

 McKay grinned proudly until the shield guttered for a moment.  Annoyed, he tapped a few commands into his data tablet.  A thrum ran through the shield and it solidified.

“Ha!” McKay exclaimed.  “Perfect.”  The smug look returned as he glanced to the others through the protection.  “I told you it could be done.”

Sheppard tried not to look impressed as Ronon reached out to touch the solid-looking cover and jerked his hand back at contact.  Teyla smiled as the Satedan wrung his hand for a moment. “Smarts,” he explained.

“Yeah, don’t touch that,” Rodney said, too late to help Dex.  He poked again at the display and seemed  pleased with the result.

“That works great for you, McKay,” Sheppard responded.  “Can you make it maybe a bit… bigger?  Otherwise we’ll have to stack people in there. And I think you might have issues with people… touching you.”

“Me?” McKay squawked – his voice sounding strange through the shield.  “Oh, let’s not even start with that, Mr. “I’m So Cool I Don’t Need Anyone’.”

Sheppard glanced to Ronon and Teyla.  “I AM cool,” he told them with mock-seriousness.  “Take it down, Rodney.”

Rodney poked a couple of buttons.  The shield dissolved, which only served to make McKay look more self-satisfied.

Everyone waited for the next segment of the show, waiting for the shield to pop back up, but Sheppard watched McKay.  With the rosy glow of the shield gone, his pale skin was doubly obvious.  The bruises were showing up vividly now.

A glance to the doctor told Sheppard that he wasn’t the only one paying attention.  Beckett had been looking downright exhausted since the surgery, and after caring for all the other injured in the Meeting Hall, but now that he’d gotten a good look at McKay, a bit of life had returned to the Scot.

“Okay, time for the next test.  I’ll attempt to encompass the whole room.”  Rodney surveyed the space, and frowned.  “Maybe people should move in a few steps?  Let’s tighten this up a bit.”  His eyes were sharp as he examined the size of the room, calculating.

People shuffled inward.  Albion had already been moved to one of the benches near the center.  Ames was at her side.  Compacted, the group filled only a few rows across the center of the Meeting Hall.

“Get on with it, McKay,” Sheppard urged when Rodney continued to fuss with his data tablet.

“Okay, fine.  Here we go.”  McKay poked a few keys.  The hum sounded.  People hunched as the wall appeared around the perimeter.  They shuffled closer to each other as shimmering walls rose, bending, arching just inside the high ceiling of the Meeting Hall and sealing shut at the top with the same soft sound – ‘wup’.

Everything took on a pinkish hue in their quiet refuge.  A twittering arose as the Colo looked up at the dome, glad to see the return of their familiar protection.  Sound seemed sharper.  The walls, though transparent, looked as substantial as anything on their planet.

Sheppard threw McKay a smile, watching as the scientist’s gaze stayed on his data tablet.  He poked a key or two, made an adjustment and tapped in another command.  He muttered to himself quietly as he messed with the pad and shuffled his position.

Not missing the tremble that ran through the man, Sheppard moved closer to him.  McKay looked up at his approach and smiled.  “Works like a charm,” Rodney stated.  “And the power source is actually up to the task.”

“It’ll hold for a while?” Sheppard asked.

“Yes, yes,” McKay responded, grimacing.  “Can’t say for certain how long, especially if the darts really start going after us.  No reason to waste power now.”

He tapped a few more commands, and the dome disintegrated.  The Colo all sighed sadly in unison.

Rodney glanced to the collection of Ancient Devices beside him.  “I need to start work on that backup battery.”

“No you don’t!” Beckett called out.  “Rodney, you need to rest or else I’ll…”

“I need to complete this task or else we’ll all die,” McKay responded sharply, glaring up at Beckett.  “I don’t want to sound all doom-and-gloom, but if the shield fails, and we don’t have a back up, it’ll be Harvest Festival time for the Wraith.”  He made an attempt to turn about, but his strength failed him.  He sagged, sucking in air.

Sheppard helped maneuver him back to the bench, and was beside him as Rodney planted his head in his hands again.  The physicist breathed raggedly and had taken on a very unhealthy pallor.

“Rodney?  Rodney?”  Becket dropped to his knees in front of McKay, grasping him lightly by the arm.  “Rodney, listen I need you to be still a moment so I can check your lacerations.  Seems you’ve abused my handiwork more than you should’ve.”

“I don’t have time,” McKay said softly, without his usual vigor.

“Give me ten minutes,” Beckett bargained.  “You’re bleeding and…”

“Bleeding?  Really? Again?”

“You’re back.  It’s a bit of a mess,” Beckett stated, sounding apologetic as hell.  When McKay looked up at him, the doctor studied his eyes and didn’t seem to like what he saw.  “Aw, Rodney,” he sighed.  “You should be in bed.”

Defeated, Rodney sighed, “Good luck finding one.  I think the last of them must have fallen on the Wicked Witch of the North after the twister.”

“The North Witch was the good one, ” Sheppard told him.

“The pink one?”

“Yeah,” Sheppard responded.  “The blonde.”

“And curiously totally not hot,” McKay replied.  “Who had the house fall on her then?”

“Wicked Witch of the West,” Sheppard informed.

“East,” Ronon corrected.  When Sheppard, McKay and Beckett turned querulous gazes at him, the Satedan shrugged.  “It was on movie night last week.  East is the one that was crushed.  West wanted Dorothy dead.”  And he smiled, perhaps appreciating something about the green woman.

“Right, that’s right,” McKay said with a sigh, letting his head fall into his hands again.  “I’m being corrected on pop trivia by a Neanderthal.”

Ronon took the comment in good humor, giving the man a slap on the arm.

“Now see,” Beckett commented softly.  “That just goes to show you need a moment or two of rest.  Let me see what I can do to correct the mess you made of my work.  Then, you can close your eyes and get a bit of sleep.”

McKay looked up, alarmed.  “I thought you weren’t supposed to let concussed people sleep?  What are you trying to do to me?”

Beckett’s quiet demeanor didn’t change, but Sheppard noticed the line of tension that crossed the doctor’s forehead.  The doc was exhausted from the ‘frontier’ surgery.

With a sigh, Carson, declared, “You need some rest Rodney, before the Wraith come.”

“But… I can’t. I have far too much to do.  I need to…”  He stared at the devices a moment, his expression confused as he tried to remember.  “Fix something.  NO!  I need to work on the battery, right?”

Damn, Sheppard thought, then ordered, “Let Beckett check on you, McKay.  You won’t do us much good if you let yourself bleed all over Carson’s good work.”

“It’s not that bad, is it?” McKay whined, reaching a hand toward his back to feel around.  “It just hurts when I move.”  And he stopped the attempt with a gasp.

Yeah, Sheppard thought, problem is, you never stop moving.  He grasped McKay firmly by the wrist and brought his arm back in front of him.  “Let it be, Rodney.  See if you can get some rest once he’s done.”

“Yeah, yeah,” McKay responded.  “Sleep a bit then work on the backup battery.  Good thought.”  He tried to nod, but stopped with a wince.  “You’re not supposed to let concussed people sleep, but I’m not the doctor.”

“I’ll be sure to wake you up,” Beckett soothed.  “Now, just lay down on your stomach, Rodney, and let me get my things.  I’ll be right with you.”

As Beckett moved away to fetch his Med Kit, Sheppard followed.  “How is he?” the colonel asked.

“He’s not good, colonel,” Carson returned sharply.  “He should be in bed and not constantly moving around and tearing out his stitches.  He’s lost more blood than he should and all this messing about isn’t helping the situation. And, as he’s so graciously reminded you, he has a concussion,” Carson hissed.  “He shouldn’t be up at all.  He might be in some serious trouble, but I don’t have the tools here to diagnose him properly.”

The doctor made a vicious grab for his bag, tugging it to himself, stating, “This is not a good situation, and I don’t like to see Rodney like this.”

“I know,” Sheppard responded with a quiet sigh.  “But what choice to we have?”

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

Before darkness fell, the Colo had gone out into the wreckage, and had unearthed more items that might be of use, bringing in food and water, blankets and little homey touches.  Finding anything that might be of use if they were trapped within the building for two weeks.

The wood stove was fired again, and dinner was prepared.  A few of the Colos cooked for everyone, making sure that the people from Atlantis were well fed with them.

Rodney tried to sleep, but couldn’t keep his eyes closed.  He continually awoke with a start, getting no more than maybe ten minutes of rest at a time.  At one point Beckett was able to have him eat a little supper, but his stomach revolted.  A bucket made it to him in time, but he had no desire to try again, much to Carson’s consternation and distress.

Albion slept deeply following the operation.  Ames still fretted and paced, glancing upward to the ceiling as if expecting the Wraith at any moment.

Sheppard spoke to the Marines, to Teyla and Ronon, trying to decide on a strategy.  A few of the Colo gathered close, listening in, but saying nothing.  John let them listen, realizing he might need more help in the morning.  He kept the discussion to a minimum, sending people to get some rest before the next day

The nights on Colo, after all, were ridiculously short.  They would be lucky to get any rest at all.

The night wore on.  Most of the Colos slept.  The Atlanteans took shifts -- someone always watchful.  McKay kept waking with a jolt.  Beckett would ask him questions, which annoyed the hell out of the Canadian, and he would drift off quickly, muttering curses, only to wake again a few minutes later.

It was a lousy way to sleep for any of them.  After a few hours of that, Sheppard ordered Beckett to get some sleep and sent Ronon and Teyla to do the same.

In the darkness of the Meeting Hall, John waited beside Rodney, checking his watch, listening to the night sounds of people sleeping in an uncomfortable situation.

Radcliff walked slowly, following the inside perimeter of the room.  The Colo made little snuffling sounds, half strangled sobs, quiet whispers as they confided in one another, a stifled shout as someone came awake from a nightmare, a quiet muttering that faded to nothing.  A child whimpered in her sleep.

The lieutenant paced slowly, listening to the night outside the hall as the weather changed.

“Wind is building again,” she said softly as she returned to the spot where Sheppard waited.

“Yeah,” Sheppard responded unhappily.

The dark-haired marine said nothing more.  Only the tightness of her face betrayed her growing anxiousness.  And she turned and began another lap of the room.

John checked his watch again, illuminating the dial.  They had two hours until dawn. 

There was a startled gasp from beside him, as McKay twitched and his eyes sprung open.  He blinked into the dimness of the room, panting as if panicked.

“McKay,” Sheppard whispered.

Rodney’s gaze darted about and finally rested on Sheppard.  “Oh, he said.  “It’s you.”

Sheppard sighed, and followed the orders he was given – ask three questions and get coherent responses.  “Do you know where you are?”

“Hell,” McKay growled.  “I’m living in hell.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Some dumbass decided it was a good idea to give a valuable power source to their biggest enemy to show that they were all nicey-nice with each other.  Some other idiot figured it would be a fine plan to come here without a puddlejumper.  Now, don’t ask me what my quest is or if I have a favorite color.”

“What do you mean, ‘if you have a favorite color’. Don’t you have one?”  Sheppard asked, watching his friend in the low light.  Rodney’s responses showed that he had the correct level of cognizance and the complementary level of irritation.  “Everyone has a favorite color.”

“What’s the point of it?” McKay remarked.  He looked up at Sheppard.  “What’s yours?”

“Black,” Sheppard responded quickly.

“Is black even technically a color?”  Rodney asked.  “I mean, if colors need to have ‘hue and brightness’, and the definition of black is the ‘lack of hue and brightness’, doesn’t that mean that black isn’t really a color?”

Maybe he was still confused, Sheppard thought.  He sounded confused.  John cleared his throat and stated, “All I know is that black is cool.  Technically – cool.”

“Cool…  Yeah, like I know about that.  What time is it?”  McKay inquired, keeping his voice low.

“We have two hours until dawn.”

McKay nodded.  “I’d better get to work on the battery.”  With a grunt, he worked to get himself upright.   He wasn’t succeeding.

Sheppard offered a hand, giving him a tug, pulling him up slowly, and keeping an eye on Beckett.  There was one thing sure to put the doctor on alert and that was one of his patients going against direct orders. But Carson didn’t stir, too tired to hear.

Carefully, John helped his friend until he was upright again.  Sighing, Rodney settled, sitting on the bench, still looking worn out and beat to hell.  Wind rattled as rain pelted windows.

From the other side of the room Radcliff stopped, listening at the wind at the door.

Sheppard watched Rodney, waiting for him to catch his breath.  “You okay?”

“Yeah, great, marvelous, couldn’t been better,” McKay responded, unable to hide a thing in his voice, and he began working on putting together the backup battery.  Sheppard left him in peace, joining Radcliff on the rounds, and checking on Albion.

He stopped by Rodney often, to try to talk, but the scientist was in a world all his own as he worked, seeming to concentrate his entire being on just remaining awake and completing the task.  Sorry Rodney, Sheppard thought as he moved through the room.

He continued moving, working out a strategy in his head. He’d need to recruit a few of the Colo.  If they downed the darts with little damage, then the pilots would become a problem.  There’d have to be teams dispatched to finish them off.  He needed more people.

The night stretched on, and glance to his watch showed that an hour had passed.  He grimaced and stopped by McKay.

“How’s it going?” he asked quietly.

Rodney just made an unhappy sound.  “Working,” he muttered.  “It’s slow going,” he admitted.

Sheppard asked, “Need help?”

With a sigh, McKay told him, “What I need is a brain that doesn’t keep shorting out on me.  It shouldn’t be this hard to think my way through this,” he stated, holding out the battery.

Sheppard sat beside him, saying, “Let me know what you need.”

There was a low hiss in the room, and Sheppard turned to offer a quick apology for waking someone.  Teyla bolted upright, her head turning this way and that, as if trying to find something in the room.

In a lithe movement she was on her feet and crossed the short distance to Sheppard.  Her eyes were electric, her stance tight.

Sheppard almost spoke, alarmed by her expression, but she cut him off, speaking in a whisper, “The Wraith -- they are here!”

PART 9: TROUBLE

With a whisk of his jacket, Ronon was up, and flying the few steps to where Teyla stood.

“How close?” he demanded, his eyes alert, his stance declaring that he was ready for anything.  “The Wraith, where are they?”

Her troubled expression lessened somewhat as she pondered the query, as she searched with her mind.  “Very near,” she decided.  “Near enough for me to sense.”  Looking unsure, she stated, “I believe we have at least an hour to prepare.”

Sheppard grimaced, turning to McKay and demanding, “What happened to our twenty-two hours?”

“Arbitrary!” McKay squawked.  “It was a completely arbitrary number!”

The conversation woke those around them.  The marines automatically drew near.  The Colo sat up in their makeshift beds, alert and alarmed.

Beckett awoke, bleary-eyed and stared out into the still dim room.  “What’s happening?” he asked Rodney breathlessly.  “Are they here?  So soon?”

“Apparently they keep their own schedule,” McKay muttered. He glared at Sheppard.  “See, that’s the trouble with making me come up with a timetable for you.”

Sheppard smirked at Rodney, and made a quick grab, lurching toward the wall and somehow managed to get his hands on the EMP weapon before Ronon even knew what he was doing.

The Satedan’s expression alone might have split Sheppard into cordwood, but the colonel stood his ground.  He hefted the EMP weapon.  “This just about fires itself,” John explained.  “And it might require the gene.  The grenade launcher takes real talent to hit a moving target.”

With a grunt, Ronon seemed to accept the pronouncement, and took up the big weapon and the ammo from Woodward.  Randall gave it up without a word.

 “You’re going to go out there?” McKay asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” Sheppard answered in a low voice, thumbing the trigger.  “Figure we’ll do more good out there than under the shield.”

“Yeah,” McKay responded quietly, not looking at him.

Sheppard turned, and motioned to the Marines, Ronon and Teyla.  They moved to a corner of the room to make their final plans before heading out.  Gilbert and Fernald followed them.

On seeing the kid join their group, Sheppard groaned.  “Look, Fernald, this isn’t the place for…”

“I have the right to join the fight,” the kid declared defiantly.  “It’s my home.  I know how to fire a gun.  I’m a good shot.”  He looked out over the rest of the Colo, all awake now and anxiously watching.  Ames sat beside Albion, holding her hand.  Clemmon stood slowly, watching the proceedings.

Fernald glared at them.  “This is our home,” he said again, his voice raised.  “We must protect it.  I will not hide from a fight.”

Sheppard regarded the kid, then glanced to Gilbert.  He trusted the man, as much as he could in this situation.  The Colo shrugged and stated, “He’s a good marksman.  His father taught him.”

With that, the colonel picked up one of the Colos’ rifles from their pile of weapons.  They were ‘wheat’ farmers, but the grain was a favorite meal for the rodents and birds of the planet.  The people of Colo protected what was theirs.  One needed sharp eyes and a quick hand to catch a bird in flight.

Sheppard held the weapon a moment, then thought better of it.  Instead, he handed it to Gilbert.

Fernald’s expect expression fell, until Sheppard reached for his Beretta.

“I need you to stay here,” the colonel said seriously.  “And watch over the people that are in the building.”

Fernald crossed his arms over his chest.  “They have the shield,” he grumbled. “They don’t need me.”

Carefully handing over the weapon, Sheppard told him, “And if the shield fails, I need you to protect them.”  He nodded toward McKay, who wasn’t paying attention, too busy creating another power source.  Beckett was near him, trying to help.   “Stick close to them,” he ordered.  “Keep them safe and every one of us will have a better chance of making it through this.”

Fernald accepted the weapon.  Sheppard handed him his extra clip and jerked his head toward Huxley, ordering the Private to ensure the kid knew how to operate the weapon correctly.  That done, he turned to explain the plan of action to those around him.

He didn’t have a chance to speak as a new rustling gathered his attention.  From behind him, five of the Colo drew near – men and women – some of them looking bold and defiant, others anxious but sure – ready to join the fight.

Sheppard invited them into their group with a nod of his head.

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

Beckett watched, feeling helpless, as Rodney struggled to piece together something out of nothing.  The physicist muttered and groused and grumbled as he eviscerated one magnificent Ancient device and then another to retrieve whatever power source was contained within.

There was little he could do – each device was different from the one before and any instructions McKay tried to give him would not carry over to the next task.  Rodney found it easier to just do it all himself.

Carson scrubbed at his stubbled chin, wishing there was something he could do, but this sort of surgery was out of his league.  All he could do was hand Rodney the tools he requested and assist when called for.

“Is it going to work?” Carson asked, watching Rodney’s movements, analyzing each time he fumbled -- observant of each of Rodney’s difficulties.  There was no doubt that McKay needed to rest.  That he should be taking it easy.  With the vicious lacerations across his back, the uncomfortable bruises, and the concussion -- keeping him up and working was tantamount to torture.

They should revoke my license to practice, Carson thought, but grimly reminded himself that such should have happened long ago if any governing body took notice of what he’d been up to since he entered the Pegasus Galaxy.

Rodney hadn’t answered.  The wind rattled the door again.  The rain had slacked.

“Rodney, do you honestly think this contraption will work?” Carson tried again, watching as McKay frittered a bean-sized bit out of a device.

With an irritated snort, McKay muttered, “It will be like trying to keep a car running on D-cells.”  The piece freed, he groaned and pressed a hand to his head.

Sighing, Beckett asked, in a sympathetic tone, “How’re you doing?”

“I’m working as fast as I can,” was the snappy response.  “I know I have to get this done.  I know I should have finished it last night.  I am desperately behind now, so a little less questioning would help.”

Beckett sighed when Rodney gave him an unpleasant look.  The doctor said nothing for a moment or two.  He handed the physicist a tool when McKay looked up, and Rodney worked on the little power source, fitting it in with the others, attaching fine filaments and weaving the lines into almost unseen perforations.

The work was delicate, and when his hand shook, Rodney paused, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Rodney?”

“Yes!  Working!” McKay responded, going back to his job.

With a sad sigh, Beckett stated hopefully, “Maybe the Wraith power source will hold?  Might not even need that bit you’re working on.”

“Your world is all lollipops and daffodils, isn’t it, Carson?” McKay grumbled.  “Sheppard, Ronon, Teyla and the rest are going to be running around outside the whole time, trying to bring down countless darts.  How long do you think they’ll last out there?” His voice squeaked slightly with the statement.  “And if something happened to them… ” his voiced faded for a moment before he continued, “How long do you think we’ll last without them out there protecting us?”

Beckett tried to console,  “Sheppard and the rest are rather clever, you know. They know what they’re doing.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that,” McKay responded as he went back to the battery.  Then, as a quiet aside, he added, “I have to make this work.  It’ll buy us some time.”

“And that’s all good, but what about the Gate?” Beckett asked.  “I mean, if we can get that Gate fixed, we won’t need to wait for the Daedalus.”

McKay kept poking at the makeshift UPS battery.  “I have an idea,” he told him, a smile creeping to his face.

“Are you planning on sharing this clever plan with anyone?” Beckett pressed.

Apparently done with his latest hook up, Rodney reached for the next bit of tech at his side.  “We’re going to have darts dropping left and right,” McKay said simply.

“Yes, that’s the idea, isn’t it?”

“Sheppard can fly one,” McKay explained.

“Aye, he can fly damn near anythin’, can’t he?” Beckett said reflectively.  “So you think we can use one to battle with the rest of the Wraith then?”

“No,” McKay replied snidely.  “The EMP pulse, by my calculation, should knock out a dart for at least an hour, then it’ll snap out of it – re-initiate its systems and be capable of flight again.”

“This fight will last hours,” Beckett reminded.  “Much longer than that.”

“Hopefully not,” McKay told him, picking up another of the donated Ancient devices.  “The Wraith aren’t expecting resistance.  They’ll send out five darts or so to scout us out.  A few well-aimed shots and I’m thinking Sheppard and the rest can drop all of them.  That should alarm the others back in the Hive, huh?  It’ll take a while for them to figure out what to do next.  It’ll give us a window.”

“Now, look who’s talkin’ daffodils and lollipops,” Beckett responded.

Rodney drew his mouth into a tight line and went back to working on his project.

Since Rodney had shut up, Beckett released a sigh and said, “I don’t understand where you’re going. Why do we need a dart then if it’s not for fighting them?”

Annoyed, McKay told him, “We use a dart to flip the Gate.”

The idea flabbergasted the doctor for a moment.  “What?  You just drive the nose of that thing under the Gate and flip it over like a pig after truffles?”

For that, Beckett received a withering look from the prickly physicist.  “No!  And what sort of analogy is that?  Listen, we’ll wire up a harness on the Gate, and attach it to the dart.  A little maneuvering and, if it’s done just right, we’ll flip the Gate like a pancake.”

“Ah, a pancake then.”

“Better than your truffle analogy.”

Beckett nodded thoughtfully.  “I suppose that could be done.”

“Of course it ‘could’ be done,” McKay shot back.

“But how likely?”

A groan.  “Well, I’ve seen a spool of cable somewhere in the town.  Looked pretty substantial.  Seems like it’d have enough tensile strength to manage the job.  I wouldn’t want to be standing anywhere near the procedure if something decided to go ‘snap’, but I think it would work.”

Carson nodded, growing warmer to the idea.  “Aye, it sounds possible, doesn’t it?”

“What else do we have?” McKay asked with a sigh.

“Little to nothing,” Beckett admitted.

Studying the latest bit of tech, McKay went on, “Then it’ll mean getting the DHD wired to the Gate to give it power – and Kawhooosh – we can go home.”  He blinked blearily at the strange device in his hand.

“And you know how that’s going to be done?” Beckett continued, more to see if McKay had an answer than out of any real need to know the process.

“Of course,” McKay returned.  “I’ll just need to run cable from the DHD’s base to somewhere – anywhere – on the Gate.  Doesn’t take a rocket scientist.”  And he chuckled a little as if that was a joke, but the amusement disappeared almost instantly as McKay continued his study of the piece.  “Easy.  I could do it with one hand tired behind my back,” he declared, not sounding sure of anything.

“I see,” said Beckett, not liking the confused look that continued to play across his friend’s face.  “So…” Carson tried.  “I was right then.  If the colonel is able to flip over the Gate during this ‘window’, we might not even need that backup battery.”

With a tired sigh, McKay muttered, “Lollipops and daffodils, Carson.  But it’s the only idea I have at the moment.”  And he pressed a hand to his forehead again, as if it might help him think.

Beckett nodded softly, and then asked, “You tell Sheppard your plan yet?”

“Haven’t had the time,” McKay admitted.  He stared at the hand-sized device, glaring at it, then turned it slowly about.  The angry expression fell, becoming crestfallen.  With a disgusted sigh, he admitted, “I don’t know what this is.”  He let the thing drop to his side as he rubbed his head dolefully.

Carson grimaced, hating his inability to help him.

“Stupid that I can’t figure it out.  I should… know…” McKay muttered.

“You’re almost done,” Beckett tried to comfort.  “That one doesn’t matter, does it?  You’ve got plenty of other batteries.”

Rodney said nothing, and Beckett wasn’t even sure that McKay had heard him.

McKay’s eyes seemed to focus on a corner of the room as he hunched over in his misery.  “I hate this,” he murmured.  “It’s like I’m working on half-power.”

“Aye,” was all Beckett could say in return, but sorry nonetheless.

The men and women at the back of the room started moving toward the door -- the Marines, Teyla, Ronon, Sheppard and six of the Colo -- Gilbert and Clemmon among them.  Fernald held back, skirting the group and finally coming up alongside Beckett.  He held a 9mm at his side, already looking attentive.

“Well, we’re going to head out,” Sheppard told them, his voice casual as he checked the weapon.

“Don’t forget to insert the key into the EMP gun before you use it,” Rodney reminded.  “It takes a hell of a lot of power.”

“Right,” Sheppard responded.

“And the range on the weapon, I’m thinking that it won’t be as far as you’d like,” Rodney told him.  “Probably a mile or two.”

 “Great,” Sheppard muttered as he handled the weapon.

“He has an idea about the Gate,” Beckett commented brightly.

“Oh, do you?” Sheppard replied, leaning close.

McKay quickly related what he’d just told Beckett concerning the darts and the Gate, with Carson stepping in to add information when McKay seemed to forget what he was saying.  The fact that he needed the help made Sheppard’s brow furrow in concern.

“Cable?” Sheppard echoed.

“Saw a spool of it somewhere,” McKay told him, blinking as he tried to recall where.

One of the Colo in Sheppard’s group spoke up.  “I know where it is,” she said, a pretty young woman, with honey-colored hair that she’d tied back in a ponytail.

“Yeah,” a young man responded.  “Me and Valeria can show you.”

“Great,” Sheppard stated.  “Radcliff and Woodward,” he nodded to two of the marines.  “You’re going with these folks.  Find the cable and get it to the Gate.  You should be able to roll it, right?  See if you can figure something out when you get there.”

“Figure something out?” Radcliff repeated, looking uncertain.

Sheppard shrugged.  “I have faith,” he said, and then with a gesture sent the four through the door, to find the spool of cable and get it to the Gate.  “All right, the rest of us had better get into position.”

Teyla and Ronon paused at the door, both of them glancing toward Beckett and McKay.  Teyla smiled at the pair, hiding any unease beneath the warm expression.  Ronon just nodded and the two left the relative safety of the Meeting Hall and into the humid darkness.

The sky was just beginning to lighten above the destroyed buildings.

The rest of the group followed until only Sheppard remained.

“Are you guys ready?” he asked.

“Ready?  No, how could we possibly be ready for this?” McKay responded petulantly.

“Figure I’ll radio you at the first sign of trouble.  Teyla will let us know,” Sheppard told him.

“Remember what I said about the darts,” McKay said, “You’ll need to get one down without smashing it to pieces.”

“It can be done,” Sheppard told him, cradling the EMP weapon carefully in his hands.  “Think the dart can pull the weight of the Gate?”

“Maybe.  Probably.  I’m not certain about how much weight a dart can handle, but if they rig it up correctly…”  McKay held up his hands, and Beckett had to marvel at Rodney’s gestures that spelled out everything he wanted to convey.  “…you won’t have to lift the entire weight. Just lever it upright, onto its edge, and then let it fall – onto its back.  You should be able to hover long enough to perform a fairly easy maneuver.  Okay, maybe ‘easy’ isn’t the right word, but...”

Sheppard watched the gestures. “Fine,” he declared.

“Oh,” McKay responded.  “Great!  You got it.”  He beamed and gave Sheppard a ‘thumbs up’.

“Yeah,” Sheppard replied.  He turned to Beckett.  “Doc, keep an eye on the people here, okay.”  He glanced toward McKay as he made his statement.

“I will,” Carson promised.  “My thoughts will be with you,” he added, wishing he could say more, wanting something meaningful to say at this moment.

“Oh,” McKay exclaimed, pointing toward the gun in John’s arms.  “Can you do me a favor and do NOT fire that weapon in this direction?  Because, it’d probably shut down the shield.”

“Good to know.”

“And give that weapon enough time to charge.  Don’t expect to be able to fire off a dozen shots in a row. It takes a lot of power to fire off a pulse, and it’s not just ‘point and shoot’.  You have to find your target on the screen and allow the equipment to hone in on it.  It’ll probably hesitate.  Be ready for that, and make sure you don’t go off ‘half cocked’.”

“Yeah,” Sheppard responded, keeping the big gun close to his chest.

“And keep your head down,” McKay tried.

“Kinda hard to fire at something that’s in the air if my head is down,” Sheppard told him.

“Oh, yeah,” McKay responded, looking frustrated at being unable to come up with any comeback.  He shrugged and winced again as he stretched the wounds on his shoulders.

“So long, Rodney,” Sheppard said quickly, slipping through the doorway and out into the humid moist weather.

The door shut behind Sheppard, but McKay continued to stare after him.  “I hate it when he says that,” he muttered, and went back to work on the battery.

PART 10: TUMBLE

The sky lightened with morning as the groups hunched amid the ruined buildings.  They stared up at the gray morning sky.  The weather remained sulky, humid, unpleasant.  The clouds hung like heavy curtains – forbidding and dark.

Sheppard studied the strange EMP weapon, wishing there’d been a chance to test it out before the attack.  It’d truly suck if this thing turned out to be some sort of a toaster-oven instead of the promised weapon.

Beside him, Teyla sat, her eyes closed as she monitored the progress of the Wraith.   Gilbert and Clemmon were with them, looking anxious and alert, glancing across the street to the other ‘in town’ group of Colos imbedded with Ronon and Huxley.

The anticipation was the worst part – waiting in the humid dawn.  Sheppard clung tightly to the EMP weapon, wanting this to start even as he dreaded it –let’s get going so we can get it over with.

He thumbed the hanging key and glanced across the debris-strewn street to Ronon who was sitting with Huxley and a couple of Colo.  Ronon pulled off an air of detachment as he held the grenade launcher, but Huxley looked a little green around the gills.

Woodward and Radcliff were further south with the Colos, working at the Gate.  They were exposed at that location, but the Wraith should be concentrating on the town.  The natives were armed with their own weapons, powerful rifles and revolvers.  The Atanteans, with their heftier arms, would take down the Wraith darts – the Colos would join the Marines in chasing down the ships to finish off any survivors.

It wasn’t the best plan, but they had limited resources and not enough soldiers.  It would have to do.

Sheppard gazed again at Teyla.  She looked almost serene as she plumbed the heavens, eavesdropping, keeping her distance – their early warning system.

John watched as the sky grew lighter with each passing moment.  A flock of black birds took flight, their wings making a clattering against the thick air.

Gilbert and Clemmon both tensed, their eyes narrowing on the thieving birds, hands creeping toward their weapons as if they couldn’t help themselves.  Realizing what she was doing, Clemmon withdrew her hand and smiled at John.

Saving their fields really didn’t matter anymore, did it?  Their town was gone – their homes – everything.  All they had left were their lives. The birds could have the fields.

Gilbert’s eyes followed the flock that dove and rose and whirred across the sky like one being.  When the birds landed and disappeared in the middle of a nearby field, he let out a little sigh.

And again, it was quiet.  They waited.  The birds called to one another. 

Suddenly, Teyla’s eyes opened wide, her body tense.  “Now!” she exclaimed, her voice echoing over his radio. She scrambled into a hunched position in the rubble. “They are coming, now!”

“McKay!” Sheppard shouted into his mic as he fit the key into the EMP weapon, instantly bringing it to life.

“On it!” was the short reply – followed by a hum and a wup from inside the Meeting Hall.  Sheppard glanced toward the building, expecting it to look different somehow, but it remained a beat-up building on a beat-up planet.

A high whine split the sky and he jerked his head from the sight of the Meeting Hall, searching to find the dart.  Hidden in the thick clouds, it screamed toward them.  He lifted the weapon, letting it rest on his shoulder as he brought up the display.

He shouted, “We have five targets.”

“I got the lead one,” Ronon announced.

Sheppard grimaced, considered arguing the point, but conceded, “I got Number 2.”

Dex fired the instant the first dart came clear of the clouds.  The blast from the grenade launcher hit the craft, exploding into it blackly, shoving it upward until gravity pulled the crumbled ship down, twisting and turning.  It tumbled to the ground.

Sheppard, grinning tightly at Ronon’s success, zeroed in on the second ship with his EMP weapon.  With one quick hope that he wouldn’t be punched into next week by the recoil, he pulled the trigger. 

Nothing happened.

He waited a heartbeat – watching the display light up.  The gun whirred, and characters blinked.

Waiting in horrible anticipation as indecipherable letters ran across his screen.  Damn… damn… Work, you stupid…!

As he followed the path of the ship with the display, the weapon went off. 

He’d been expecting the kick, he’d braced himself for it – but the sensation was entirely different.  A strange numbness ran down his arm, from his shoulder to his hand – lasting only a second.  The weapon made a sound – a strange sort of ‘huff’, like an old man gasping -- and nothing else.  The display went back to a ‘wait’ screen.

Incredulous, Sheppard opened his mouth to shout at McKay, to beg answers.

And the dart he had targeted fell.

Seeming untouched, it staggered – tipped, turning over like a dead fish – and clomped to the earth not far from where Ronon’s ship smoldered.  Indignant black birds rose like a cloud around it.

Huxley let out a whoop and went back to firing his P90 at one of the remaining ships.  Sheppard blinked in surprise, the thump of Teyla’s weapon firing near him.

One of the remaining darts was tottering under the combined fire of Huxley and Teyla’s weapons.  Ronon finished off another with shot from the grenade launcher.

John focused the EMP weapon again – letting the gun hone in on the one dart that had remained unscathed.  The gun tracked the flight of the ship, flashing strange symbols at him and he pulled the trigger again.

Another maddening hesitation and instead of a whirr, more symbols flashed at him – in red this time.

“Damn!”  Not fully charged.

“Colonel?” a worried voice came over the comm.  “Colonel?  It would be helpful to know what’s going on out there.  Really… helpful.  Because we’re kind of in the dark here.  Well, not literally, but figuratively.”

“How long?”

“What sort of question is that? How long?  How long… what?”

“How long until this piece of crap recharges?”

“A minute, a half-minute, maybe two minutes.  Something like that.”

“Great!”  Sheppard ducked as the remaining two darts came about.  The impaired ship came first, followed by the one that had escaped damage.   Around him, his people popped up like prairie dogs – heavily-armed and highly-dangerous prairie dogs.  They opened fire, concentrated on the lead ship as John tried the weapon again, targeting the last one.

He was met this time with the quiet whirr, the thrum that made his arm feel heavy and numb, the wheezy ‘huff’ – and the last two darts wheeled about – one exploded in a fiery conflagration under the onslaught of weapons fire, and the other just – stopped.  It faltered in the sky, tipping and waggling as the pilot tried to fight it without success.  It fell like a stone, tumbling into the field after the other one.

Okay, that was cool.

Letting out a sigh, Sheppard looked up.  Teyla smiled at him, holding her P90 steady.  The two Colo who were with Ronon were already hoofing it into the fields, after the downed pilots to finish them off.  At least, with the EMP weapon, the Wraith’s self-destruct would be knocked out of commission, along with their weapons.

Ronon stepped clear of his ‘foxhole’ long enough to give Sheppard a nod before he took off to check the wreckage of a different ship with Huxley.

Clemmon and Gilbert moved to the street, eager to get moving, to check out another of the wrecks, but Teyla still scanned the skies.

They’d taken down five Wraith ships in a matter of minutes.  It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“They gone?” Sheppard asked, watching Teyla’s movements.

“They are confused,” she responded.  “They are wary.”

“Damn well better be.”

“They weren’t expecting this,” Teyla told him, looking pleasantly encouraged.

“It’s about time we got the jump on them,” Sheppard replied.  “They think they’re the only ones who can craft a sneaky plan.  They’d…”

“Wait!” she whispered, her face taking on an alarm.  “They are sending more!”

“Ronon!” Sheppard called over the radio.  He watched as the Satedan paused in his tracks, the long stalks of grain up to his knees.

Dex looked up into the rolling clouds and brought his weapon up again, firing as the second wave of darts broke through.

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

“What’s going on?” McKay demanded, gazing frantically up through the mauve glow of the shield to the Hall’s wooden ceiling above.  His eyes searched, wishing he could see.  “Colonel?”

“The second wave!” Sheppard cried breathlessly.  He was running by the sound of it.

“Is the EMP weapon working correctly?  Were you able to target any of the ships?  Have you figured out how long the delay is going to be when you recharge because I think it’ll be a half-minute or so.  There should be some sort of message regarding that on your screen.  You’re going to have to factor that in, remember?  And that hesitation before it fires – don’t forget that.” McKay paused to take a breath.  He staggered to his feet and restated everything as, “How’s it goin’?”

“Kinda busy right now!” And Sheppard grunted sharply as if he’d jumped or landed or was knocked over.  It was hard to tell.

“Colonel?”

“Busy, McKay!” was the sharp retort.

“Is everyone…?  I mean, are Teyla and Ronon… everyone…?”

“We’re still moving.  Get off the line!”

McKay frowned, and switched his gaze to glare at Beckett as if he could be found at fault for something.

Carson was beside Albion again, ensuring that she was still doing well.  He gave Rodney a reassuring smile when he found that expression fixed on him.  “They’re doing all right,” the doctor assured.  “By the sound of it, they’re giving those beasties a run for the money.”

“He wouldn’t tell me if the weapon worked!” McKay declared unhappily.

“I’m sure you’d know it if it didn’t.  He’d give you an earful,” Beckett reasoned, carefully feeling for Albion’s pulse as the woman gazed up at him wearily.  Ames was never far from her side and crouched beside the doctor, looking frightened and trapped.

Outside, the world once again broke into a cacophony.  Everyone in the room flinched, moving in toward the shield device, drawing closer to their loved ones as a battle raged outside.  Something struck the roof of the Meeting Hall – banging and clattering its way to the ground, drawing gasps.

McKay listened.  He could make out the bark of the P90’s and the FUMP- kaPOW of the grenade launcher – the sounds moving further off with each second.  They all must have been in motion.

Rodney tried to picture it – seeing his teammates running for their lives from the darts.  He gulped and closed his eyes, unconsciously angling himself toward the door.

The report of the local weapons punctuated the clamor.    The Colo must have reached some of the downed darts.  Without realizing it, McKay held his breath, straining to hear the EMP weapon – yet knowing it wouldn’t make much of a sound – maybe a whirr if that.  There was nothing to tell him if it was functioning.  He closed his eyes tightly as he concentrated, determined to make out what the different sounds meant.

A smile crept to him as he discerned a change in the pitch of the swarm.  He could pick out each dart if he listened closely enough – another five had arrived -- they each had their own tone – and one voice had suddenly gone out – without a ‘boom’ or ‘kablam’.

He laughed slightly and turned to Beckett.  “It works,” he stated.  Laughing again as he heard a dart slamming into the ground.

Beckett looked at the scientist as if he’d gone mad.  But Rodney paid him no mind, smiling, looking thoroughly pleased as he bowed his head and returned to working on the backup battery.

Voices rang on the radio, and Rodney counted the seconds between responses from Teyla, Ronon and Sheppard.  Growing anxious when one voice delayed for too long, he’d stop his work, and wait, forcing himself not to speak up because his chatter was wasted when their lives were at stake.

Then Ronon or Teyla or Sheppard would say something, and he could get back to work, listening to the whine of the darts and counting.

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

“Son of a bitch,” Sheppard roared as he targeted the weapon again and was met with the bright red symbols on the display.  “Damn it!  This recharge is worse than one of those crappy old flash cameras.”

Teyla said nothing, knowing that it was the easiest response to his unfathomable comment.  She was hunched down in the long golden stalks of grain, watching as the darts wheeled in the sky.

They’d taken down seven Wraith ships so far – five of the first batch and two of the second.  Another three were buzzing around their heads.  Beside her, John was panting, the EMP weapon resting across his knees.    Gilbert and Clemmon were no longer with them – they’d gone to dispatch another Wraith pilot and had proudly reported on their borrowed radio that their mission was accomplished.

So far, they’d been lucky and none of the monsters had stepped free.

She listened to the Wraith, keeping her mind open.  She felt their frustration, their anger, their rage.  She felt their surprise and a tingle of fear.  The Wraith were powerful, and anything that brought them to their knees was to be approached with trepidation.

The ships circled them, keeping their distance.  John had discovered the weapon’s limited range, which sucked when the darts kept their distance, but helped in another way.  A downed craft, miles away, with a possibly living Wraith, was just a bad idea.  The creatures could move quickly on foot, even after a crash.

They were better off keeping the crashes nearby – and dispatching the creatures before they could get out of their ships.

So now, they were waiting as the darts cruised, circling slowly – like predators.  She felt the hunger of the Wraith, felt their anger, their annoyance, their uncertainty.

There was a blast in the distance. Black birds squawked.  Sheppard’s hand instantly went to his radio.  “Ronon?”

“Took care of the last grounded one,” the Satedan reported.

“Good,” Sheppard responded, watching as the birds took off.  He’d seen more than one flock high-tailing it out of there – the birds weren’t so dumb.

“Everyone,” he announced.  “Regroup.”  He released the mic and turned to Teyla.   “Chasing down those sons of bitches spread us out too much,” he declared.  “We’re probably a mile or two from Meeting Hall now.”

Teyla nodded in response.  Perhaps it was the merciless thoughts of the creatures, flitting around her mind.  She wanted familiar, she wanted comfort – she wanted to have her friends with her. 

“As far as we know, that shield is still doing its job,” Sheppard told her.  “Rodney would have told us if it was failing.  Wonder why the Wraith haven’t tried to hit it yet.  McKay didn’t say it worked like a cloak, too, did he?”

“He did not,” Teyla confirmed and then added thoughtfully, “I believe it would be visible on the Wraith’s sensors, but the building is acting as their cloak.”

With a sigh, John stated, “Yeah, they know the Colo have a shield, but what we have rigged up here is probably confusing them.  Only a matter of time and they’ll try to hit it with something big.  Let’s close ranks.  We have too many holes right now.”

She stood slowly, nodding, and they made their way slowly toward the others.  She desperately wanted to be near them.  She could feel the hatred of the creatures – the Wraith weren’t even hungry anymore – they wanted revenge.  She could feel their anger, thick on her tongue.  She spat, as if she could rid herself of the sensation.

As Sheppard and Teyla moved toward the Meeting Hall, their eyes remained on the darts that circled, keeping their distance.

“Seven darts down is pretty impressive,” Sheppard commented. “We gave them something to think about, if nothing else.  Maybe they’ll back off for a bit.  Leave us alone for long enough to…”

Teyla stopped, blinking hard as a new sensation crossed her – a clearly formed thought struck.  “John!” she cried.

He turned sharply, facing her with wide eyes.  She pointed.  Sheppard spun about, gazing in the direction she’d indicated.

The three ships broke their circle and closed in.  With one quick movement, Sheppard raised his weapon, sighting the first ship on the display, and then swore thickly as he charted their path.

The darts screamed onward, heading directly toward the Meeting Hall, coming in on a collision course.  Sheppard couldn’t get a clear shot at any of them without risking shutting down the shield in the process.

“Ronon!  Take them down!” Sheppard yelled, lowering the useless weapon and clasping it under his arm as he started running.  “Damn it!  Damn it!  Damn it!  Son of a Bitch!”

Teyla ran, trying to get within range.  She could hear Sheppard running behind her, shouting over the radio,  “Rodney! Carson!  You’ve got three darts on a collision course, coming in at twelve o’clock!”

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

At Sheppard’s first shout Rodney came to attention.  Ronon?  Why’s he shouting for Ronon?  Is he hurt?  What’s happening?

Fretfully, he glanced to Beckett, who was still with Albion.  The doctor returned his concerned expression.

At the second shout, everything changed.

“What?” Rodney cried.  “Twelve o’clock?  From whose perspective?  What the hell kind of direction is…”

He was still shouting when everything exploded around them.  Rodney tumbled to the ground, throwing his arms out before him, wincing as he hit the ground hard.  Wood and debris flashed around them, thrown up in a horrible shattering concussion as the Meeting Hall went to pieces.


PART 11:  BABBLE

Ronon shouted in frustration and rage. He was too far away to get a good shot, and had been able to hit only one of the three ships, but it did little to slow its trajectory.  The three darts, like bullets from a gun, crashed full speed into the Meeting Hall.

The building exploded.  Wood and debris scattered everywhere, impacting into the already devastated streets.  The last building still standing on Colo disintegrated before his eyes in a hail of wood and flying pieces of Wraith technology.

He ran – barely flinching as the fragments came at him.  He jumped over the scattered debris.  He changed his direction as a huge piece of dart engine crashed into his path, rerouting himself to stay on course once he was around it.  He ran toward the disaster even before everything had settled.  He ran to save his people, to dig out McKay yet again, to find Beckett, to save them for he hadn’t managed to protect them.

His chest tightened at that thought and he pressed himself to a faster speed, barely hearing the chatter over his radio in his determination to reach the others.

He had failed them.

It took a moment for him to realize what was just before him – in the midst of all the destruction and shimmering in mauve – the shield – a dome.

He let out a laugh, little more than an exhale.  The shield had worked.  Ronon slowed, seeing no reason for the rush anymore.  Everyone was safe and sound.  He felt proud of the physicist and a little chagrinned at himself.

And then he saw it.

One dart, nestled at the base of the dome, had escaped annihilation on the shield.  He picked up speed.

He could see the pilot within the dart.  He could tell that it was alive.

Voices buffeted his ears as he closed the distance on the crashed ship.  He could hear Sheppard calling for McKay or Beckett to respond, and there was a din over the radio, excited, frightened voices.  Someone’s radio must have been on within that dome.

The dome seemed to thrum resentfully.  He reached the wrecked dart that leaned against the seemingly substantial wall.

Over the radio, he could hear Beckett calling for McKay.  He didn’t chance lifting his head to look inside the dome.  He let the babble fade.

There was movement within the wreck.  He approached it carefully but quickly, his weapon extended and powered it up.

The Wraith was struggling, trying to free itself from its seat.  It never saw him.  Ronon didn’t care if it was afraid.  He didn’t care if it was surprised.  He didn’t need it to see him.  It didn’t need to know what was coming.

He wanted only one thing – a clean shot.

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

Beckett unfolded from his protective position over Albion and looked in disbelief at the world above.  The building was gone – utterly gone, leaving the insides untouched.

“Good God in Heaven,” he exclaimed, gazing around him.  The Colo had ducked down, huddled into whatever holes they could quickly find.  Daylight flooded them, tinted in a rosy hue.  They now had a view the leveled town, the smoke that rose from the fields, and the gray-black clouds.  A Wraith dart, looking mostly undamaged, smoldered just outside the dome.

Fernald, one of the few people still upright in the room, stood in a crouch.  He looked ready to jump in any direction if someone would just shout for him to do so.

Beckett returned his attention to his patient, and Albion smiled up at him, looking pale and weak, but alive.  Ames cringed beneath the bench.  The area was alive with chatter.

With a realization, Beckett gasped and switched his gaze to the Wraith ‘bomb’, grateful to find it exactly as they’d left it.  “Thank God,” he whispered.  “Thank God.”  The last they needed was to flood the dome with some sort of paralyzing agent.

“Beckett! McKay!” Sheppard was shouting over the radio.

Cueing his mic, Beckett responded, trying to keep the quaver from his voice, “We’re fine.  The shield held.  The Wraith device is untouched.”  He searched, trying to find McKay.

“Rodney?” he called as he moved past Fernald and covered the short distance to where he’d last seen McKay at the shield device.

Carson found him, tucked in beside the apparatus, rolled on his side and trembling.  “Rodney?”

“Fine…” was the frustrated response.  “I’m fine.”  With a gasp and a shudder, he tried to push himself upright.

Beckett was beside him in an instant.  “Easy now,” he said quietly, offering an arm, and helping the physicist to sit up.  Instantly he noticed that the state of the bandages around his shoulders and back.  He’d replaced them the day before, but blood was spotting through again.  “Oh Rodney, what did you do?”

“I was just trying to…” he stopped and gasped.  “… to get out of the way.”  He glanced up.  “The shield held.”  He smiled then, looking confident.  “I told you it would.”

Rodney was panting, closing his eyes and looking queasy.  Beckett gritted his teeth, frustrated and concerned, hating himself for not being able to do much of anything for his friend.

“How are you feeling?” Beckett tried again, his voice quiet.

“Gimmie a minute, okay.”

“A minute, then,” Beckett agreed, keeping a strong arm on Rodney, helping him sit up. “Just be still for a bit.”

Rodney let out a slow breath and seemed to come to himself.  “Be still?” he gibbered.  “We were just kamikazed!”  He staggered, shoving down on Beckett’s shoulder and struggling to get his feet under him.

Carson helped, wishing he could have forced Rodney to stay down instead.  Why the hell was he allowing Rodney to get up?  No doctor in his right mind would allow this.  It’s madness, he decided.

As he helped support the physicist, he gazed to the dart that leaned against the dome, so precariously close to them.  Around the craft, the dome seemed to hum.

“Everything’s fine, Rodney,” Beckett tried to assure.  “The shield held and…”

“Fine? Did you say fine?”  Rodney kept his weight on Carson’s shoulder as he stood, trembling.  “Because, I know I’ve been better!”

I’m sorry about that, Carson thought, unable to speak the words.  I’m so sorry.  Unable to meet Rodney’s gaze, he watched the dart.

The Wraith pilot leaned limply in his seat.  From his perspective, Beckett could see little of the creature, but it didn’t stop him from realizing that the thing still lived.  He considered what injuries it might have suffered from the crash and decided it chances of survival were little to none.

“We’re still alive,” Carson tried.  “They haven’t gotten us yet.”

“Matter of time,” Rodney said, gazing around for a moment and then flinching away, as if even the filtered sunlight hurt his eyes.  “The building’s gone,” he stated, wonder in his voice.

Carson stood, slowly, keeping a steadying hand on Rodney.  As he came to full height, he glanced to Fernald who kept nearby.  The kid stood with his arms crossed over his chest, trying to look sharp and strong.  Around them, the Colo babbled like a brook.

McKay just gazed at the shield device, inspecting the displays.  With a groan, he moved toward it, his step uneven.

Beckett caught a motion out of the corner of his eye and turned.  The Wraith moved, his hand reaching toward his chest.  “No!” Carson gasped.

A blast sounded, loud.

Beckett flinched but couldn’t take his eyes off the sight as the Wraith jerked violently and went still.

With a racing heart, Beckett tried to understand, but Ronon appeared, just outside their dome.  Dex stood, aiming his weapon at what was left of a Wraith pilot.

“Oh, thank God…” McKay sighed, watching as well.  “We could have… if that thing had set off the self-destruct… that could have been bad.  Very bad.”

Carson found that he was holding his breath, watching as Ronon closed on the blasted creature.  The Satedan moved purposefully, checking to ensure that the thing was truly dead.  Once he was convinced, Dex turned and gazed in at them.  He nodded sharply, seeming glad to find them both alive.

Beckett waved in return.  McKay returned his attention to the device.

Ronon, satisfied, turned and hoofed it in the direction of the fields.

And for a moment – all was peaceful.  Carson smiled, hoping, as he gazed upward through the dome and into the now visible clouds, searching for Wraith ships.

The clouds were low, hiding the sky.  It wasn’t good weather for fighting spaceships.

“We are in so much trouble,” McKay muttered.

“But the shield worked,” Carson commented helpfully.  “Perfectly!”  He listened on the radio as the various groups reported in.  His smile increased.  “We’re still here.  And our people made it through.”

Rodney leaned on the shield device.  He groaned and tsked and muttered as he checked the readouts.  “Yeah, but for how long,” he said with a sigh.

“McKay,” Sheppard’s voice crackled over the radio.  “Report!”

Looking annoyed as hell, McKay declared, “We still have power, but it’s going fast.  We will NOT withstand another attack like that.”  He pressed a hand against his head as he leaned against the device.  “Can you just… keep them away from here.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Sheppard responded, a sarcastic tone to his voice.  “We’ll remember that as we’re trying to keep from getting ourselves blown to bits.”

Rodney lifted his head.  “You do that,” he commented.  He seemed nervous, anxious.  He stared through transparent shield in the direction of Sheppard and the others, his hands clenching and unclenching.  He took a half step toward the edge of the shield, as if itching to join them.

Then after a moment, Sheppard had a softer tone.  He sounded… concerned.  “You know, next time they come back, they’ll probably open fire on the shield.  Now that they have a good look at what they’re dealing with, they’ll have an idea of how to attack it.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” McKay snapped.  “We’re a veritable display case, a delicatessen here under glass.”  He continued to survey the displays, poking the keyboard.  “I’ll keep the shield working for as long as I can!  Just don’t let them ram us again!”

“Got it,” Sheppard replied.  And then after a moment, he asked, “How many more ships do you think they have?”

“It’s a hive, Colonel,” McKay said tiredly.  He sagged, his head down, showing every inch of weariness.  “They have plenty.”

“You said they’d pull back and give us a window, give us a chance to retrieve one of these downed darts,” Sheppard reminded.  “Think that’ll happen any time soon?”

“I don’t know,” McKay responded, blinking at the device in front of him.  “How are they doing with the cables and the Gate?”

Radcliff’s voice joined the conversation.  “We’ve been pretty busy, sir,” she said, sounding out of breath, “But we’ve made good progress.  Should get it together soon.”

Sheppard added, “I think we have a good candidate for our ship.  One of the darts came down nice and easy.  We managed to get rid of the pilot without putting any unnecessary holes in it.  I’m going to go check it out.”

“Good,” McKay responded quietly, closing his eyes tightly and starting to sway.

Beckett was at Rodney’s side in an instant, catching one of his elbows and catching him before he took a tumble.  “Rodney,” Beckett cried.

Rodney’s feet skittered for a moment, and he huffed, pulling away from Carson’s caring touch.  “I’m fine,” he growled.

“No, you’re not!” Carson snapped back at him.  “Any fool could see you are not fine.  Now, you’re going to sit down before I have to knock you down myself!”

Beckett was surprised by Rodney’s lack of snappy comeback.  The physicist just sighed dejectedly.

Quickly, Beckett maneuvered McKay to the bench where he could sit.  “Just for a moment,” Beckett promised as Rodney sighed.  “We got a bit of a break here.  We’d best take advantage of it.”

“It won’t last,” McKay mumbled. “More darts are just around the corner.  They’ve sent out a few scouts, but you know more are coming.  It’s like we’re poking the beehive.”  He snorted as if something he’d said was funny.  “Have I ever mentioned that I’m allergic to bee stings?”

“Yes, Rodney,” Beckett responded in a kindly tone.

“Deathly allergic,” he sighed, looking away.  “The darts -- we’ve been… I mean, the Colonel and the others have been able to take them down, but for how long?  There’s too many of them.  Sooner or later…”

“We’re not giving up,” Beckett pledged.  “We’re going to get through this one way or another.”

“Just keep thinking that,” McKay muttered.  Defeated, he attempted to lean back, without success.  Miserable, he moved a hand to help support himself, and it brushed against the hand-shaped piece of Ancient equipment he’d examined earlier.  He picked it up and glared at it.

Beckett said nothing immediately, watching the sky, wondering how their people were doing.  The radio announced their progress.  Apparently the dart was in one piece, but didn’t want to power up immediately.  The electromagnetic pulse hadn’t worn off.  They’d have to wait until the ship shook off the beam that had knocked it silly.

“Have you figured out what that is yet?” Beckett asked finally, as Rodney continued to scrutinize the device.

“It’s useless,” Rodney grumbled.  “It has no power source.  It has no discernable use.   It’s incomplete, ineffective.  It’s like a useless limb, part of something that…”  He paused, and his bleary-looking eyes became sharp as he considered.  “Wait… wait… wait…”

“What?’ Beckett responded, hopefully.

Rodney’s gaze seemed to eat up the thing as he turned it this way and that, then snapped his fingers.  “Fernando!” he called.

The kid turned to him, looking perplexed.

Rodney snapped his fingers again and Fernald came to attention, and hurried to his side.

“What is this?” McKay demanded.

If the boy looked puzzled before, he looked completely flummoxed now.  “I don’t know,” he explained.  “I have no idea.”

Rodney grimaced.  “Wonderful. Look, does it look familiar at all? ”  When the kid didn’t reply immediately, he raised his voice.  “Does anyone know where this came from?”

McKay made an attempt to hold the device aloft, but stopped the moment he tried to lift his arm.  Beckett made a move to help, but Fernald was first, grabbing the thing from Rodney’s hands and energetically thrusting the piece upward for all to see.

There was a low murmur in the room as people commented to one another, but no one made a response.  Ames drew back.

“Oh, come on!” McKay snapped.  “It’s part of a larger device, and I’m thinking big – very big.  Someone had to have seen it.”

Nobody spoke up.

Rodney sat forward, his arms resting across his knees, but his eyes scanning the crowd.

Fernald glanced to Ames and then slowly lowered the piece, giving it a good look.  “Now…” he started, paused and cleared his throat nervously.  “Now that you mention it…”

“Yes, yes…” Rodney encouraged.

”It looks sort of like that key on that … ah… EMP gun,” Fernald stated, struggling to remember what the strangers had named the device.  “But a lot bigger.”
 
”Yes, yes…” McKay went on.  “So, can you tell me, do you know of anything in this town, ANYTHING that it might belong to?  It would be big – really big.  Might look a lot like that EMP Gun.”

Fernald watched Ames as he responded with, “Well, there’s the Star Finder.”

“The Star Finder?” Beckett repeated, looking at Rodney in wonder.

The name annoyed the physicist.  “Oh, I doubt that it’s for looking at stars,” McKay muttered.

The kid shrugged.  “But the Star Finder is big -- too big to be a gun.  The Ancestors used it pointing at the heavens.”

McKay smiled, a liveliness returning to his expression.  “Pointing at the stars?  And you’ve seen it do this?”

Fernald said glumly, “The Ancestors are gone.  They were the only ones who could use it.”

“Not the only ones,” McKay declared, poking a thumb at his chest.  “I could definitely make use of it.”

“It’s not yours to take!” Ames shouted suddenly, leaping toward McKay.

Beckett stepped forward, blocking him from getting any closer.  “Back up, son,” Carson ordered, his usually friendly brogue taking on a darker tone.

Ames insisted, “It is a sacred relic, a tribute to our Ancestors.  It is not a tool that you can take to pieces like you’ve done to the others.  Tools are for digging in the dirt!  This is too great for human hands.”

Rodney gave Ames a disgusted look.  “Hey, kid,” he called.  “You think you could show me where this thing is?”

“It’s at Ames’ place,” Fernald said, pointing at the man.

“Why does that not surprise me?” McKay asked.

“He keeps it in his back room,” Fernald went on.  “No one sees it, but he brought me there to fix the roof once.  I saw it.”  The kid kept his eyes on Ames.  “He told me to keep it a secret.”

“Traitor!” Ames hissed, lunging at the kid, who flinched away.

Carson dug in as the Governor’s assistant shoved at him.

“It is mine!” Ames insisted.  “It has belonged to my family since the beginning of time! This is why we have kept it safe from prying eyes!  You abuse our Ancestors!  You spit in their faces by destroying their sacred relics!”

“Wait a minute.  Aren’t you the one who bartered away the precious ZPM that was given to you by the Ancestors?” McKay pressed.

“It was to save us!  The Ancestors wanted us safe and I was trying to save us!” Ames insisted.  “The Wraith promised not to harm us.”  He tried to get around Beckett, but the doctor had no intention of letting him pass.  He turned to face his people.  “Don’t you see?  They are the ones that have caused this destruction!  If we’d only given them to the Wraith as we promised, our town would be whole.  We would be safe!”

Incredulously, McKay stated, “They left a gas weapon behind for you.  Sure, it’s probably just going to paralyze you, but that’s just about the same as ‘dead’ when the Wraith come calling.”

Rodney grimaced as he shook his head, continuing, “But let’s pretend that didn’t happen.  What about the tornado?  I mean, come on, your town’s in pieces because of a tornado, not because of anything we did.  If you’d kept your ZPM…”

“You will not have our Star Finder!” Ames asserted.  “We should have given you up to the Wraith.  If we do that, the creatures will go.  That’s what the Wraith want.  Certainly that tank can’t harm us.  I have seen only a strange hollow container.”  He looked beseechingly to his people, but they returned his entreaties with disbelieving stares.

Fernald, bowed his head, speaking softly, as if unsure if he were allowed to speak, “We never should have listened to you, Ames.  I knew.  I mean, I’m just a dumb kid and I knew it was a bad deal from the start.  The Wraith are monsters.  Who would make a deal with them?”

Beckett sighed, remembering another deal that had been made with the Wraith.  “You’re not a dumb kid, Fernald.  You might be one of the smartest of the lot.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say THAT,” McKay commented.  “But he’s definitely smarter than SOME.  Is someone going to show me where it is?” he asked.  He crooked a thumb over his shoulder, “Because it’s not like we have all day.”

With Ames still shoving to get past him, Beckett turned to give McKay a look.  “Rodney, what do you think you’re doing?” he quizzed.

Ames grumbled, “You’re not going without me! It is my home!  I have every right to be there!”

“Nobody’s goin’!” Beckett insisted.

“Look, Carson,” Rodney paused, and pointed to the object in Fernald’s hands, “If that’s what I think it is, I can’t NOT go.”

“Rodney, you can barely stay on your feet,” Carson told him.  “You’re not going anywhere.”

McKay closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath.  “This Star Finder of theirs, I’m betting it’s another EMP weapon.  A big one.”

“Aye, I can see that’d be useful.  Send Sheppard.”

“I need to see if I can get it operational,” McKay returned.  “And Sheppard’s checking out that dart.  We still need to get a dart in the air if we’re going to flip that Gate.  Sooner we accomplish that the sooner we can leave.  Meanwhile, someone has to check out this weapon.”

“Well, you won’t go without me,” Beckett told him.

To that, McKay waggled a finger.  “You’re staying here,” he insisted.  “You need to watch over your …” he indicated Albion.  “…patient, and you need to bring the shield back online after we’re out.  Oh, and let us back in after I’ve figured out that weapon.  That would be good.”

“I don’t like it,” Beckett told him.

“You don’t have to like it,” McKay countered.  “And we don’t have time to argue. The Wraith will be back any second.  Give me your jacket.”

Beckett frowned, realizing that Rodney had lost coat his earlier, and was running around shirtless – with nothing but bandages to protect him.

Rodney snapped his fingers impatiently.

Carson scowled at the gesture, but pulled off his jacket.  “So, if we get a bigger EMP weapon, what does that mean?” he asked, as he helped Rodney into the coat.  “You’ll be able to knock even more of those machines from the air?”

Rodney smiled as he gingerly pulled the coat into place.  “I’m thinking about going after the hive.”

Part 12

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