The Science of War

A/N: I know I should be working on my other stories, but this bunny bit pretty hard, so blame Lady Valmar and the Mary Sue challenge on forbidddengalaxies.

I'd been in Atlantis a week and I was still eating by myself. Not that I expected any differently, and I didn't really come here to make friends. I had orders to carry out, never mind that my duties had shifted from serving my country to serving two galaxies. What was the old Navy tagline, "It's not just a job, it's an adventure?" Only I was Army, which probably didn't make the marines and air force personnel stationed here too happy. Despite various terrors threats, the military branches still don't play nicely. I can only imagine the reaction at Stargate command when the brass was told the Army was sending an officer to help examine and speed up research. Yeah, worse, I was a scientist, whose area of expertise was biological warfare, or how to efficiently kill large groups of people, or in this case, Wraith.

The joint chiefs had heard about Dr. Beckett's retrovirus research and decided he needed a little help from an outside source, someone who understood the necessity of such a weapon, someone who knew the rules of war and wouldn't develop a conscience. Which is to say, there are none, as far as I can remember, images of WWI soldiers on horses with swords facing off against tanks burned into my brain. If you have the advantage, you don't hesitate. You have a weapon, you shoot to kill. How I ever was selected, I don't know, but possessing one specific gene seemed to put me at the top of a short list. On paper, I must have looked like the ideal candidate, top of my class at West Point, young, fast rising officer, well decorated, known for following protocol, and a list of classified projects. Actually, they were missions, and it's a bitch when you can't talk about what happened, because on paper, it never occurred, which means in the eyes of the military, you shouldn't have issues to deal with non-existent events.

I made a few notes on my palmtop and then rose to put my tray away. I could feel the eyes of a couple military types following me. The laidbackness of this place surprised me, and I quickly learned there wasn't much saluting going on, something my superiors back home would have a fit over. Secretly, I was relieved – I'd been the youngest and most junior officer in the lab back on base, although it would be nice to be shown a little respect. Actually, I'd love to witness a meeting between my commanding officer and one Colonel Sheppard. Somebody would probably be on permanent kp duty. I wished I could talk about what I'd seen; maybe things would be different. I think most of the marines thought I was a geek permanently stuck in the lab, and wondered how I had achieved captain at a young age, without sleeping with someone above me, or pushing the whole affirmative action angle. Even Colonel Caldwell wasn't sure what to make of me, when I first boarded the Daedalus in olive drabs, and a serious expression on y face. I spent most of the trip reviewing notes and trying to pinpoint area of concern for my time in Atlantis.

The scientists didn't know what to make of a military type in a labcoat who probably knew eight ways to kill with a paperclip. To them, at best, I was an outsider interfering. Even my two meetings with Dr. Weir had been brief, a slight resentment unspoken at what she perceived was interference from yet another group in the military. Of course, the Army hadn't sent my full bio, like I said the branches don't like to share. I sighed softly and went in search of one Dr. Rodney McKay. I'd sent him a few polite emails asking for his data on possible delivery systems for the retrovirus. He had politely ignored them. I quickly found his lab and the man himself hunched over a laptop.

"Dr. McKay," I said politely. "I need your design schematics on the Hive ships I've requested several times."

He gave me a withering look that said such knowledge would be wasted on a grunt, "Look, whatever your name is, I'll get to it when I have a free moment sometime in the next month."

"My name is Captain Sara Williams, Dr. McKay. I was sent here by the military to work on the retrovirus and its delivery system." I got a sour look in return. I smiled politely, then pulled out my "the supposedly brilliant pedigreed puppy just pissed all over the antique rug," look. That got him moving, rummaging among various laptops and notebooks, consolidating files onto yet another computer tablet, which he handed me. As grouchy as he appeared to be, there was a small hint of fear in his eyes, like he expected me to order him to drop and give me fifty pushups. As amusing as that seemed, I simply thanked him and headed back to the office near the biology and medical labs I had claimed. I grabbed a cup of coffee from a nearby pot an settled in to work.

It was several hours later when my grumbling stomach finally made me look at the time. Apparently I'd worked through dinner and hopefully I'd still find something left in the mess, although it would probably be cold. I don't know if the mess hall crew hated me as well. As I headed out, I paused seeing one of the numerous balconies and walked towards the railing. The sun had set, but the sky was still bright. Given the wind and way the waves were crashing, tomorrow would be a great day for surfing and I smiled. Yeah, I could just myself now, leaving a "gone surfing" note on my door in pursuit of the perfect wave.

"I think that's the first time I've seen you smile, lass" a soft brogue startled me, and I put on the usual stern expression on as I turned around to see Dr. Beckett.

"I got caught up in the sequence parameters and was just on my way to the mess hall to find something to eat, before I get back to work" I explained, heading for the doorway.

"Are you ok," he asked, bright blue eyes holding my own brown ones. For a split second I felt overwhelmed by his concern and wanted to tell him everything, I was really just a scientist who'd seen the horrors in the science of war, and unfortunately found out I was very good at what I did. And either lucky enough or stupid enough to have figured out how to deal, hiding my true emotions away.

"I just have a lot to do," I replied attempting to brush past him. He resisted.

"You've absorbed a lot in a short period, isn't it a little overwhelming?" he persisted. For a moment, I thought he'd seen my complete record, then realized he meant his research.

"It's what I do," I stated as the answer to what I was doing now, and what I had done, indicating this was the end of the discussion. He let me pass, although the look on his face said he was unsatisfied with my answer.

"If you ever need to talk, you can come to me, or Dr. Heightmeyer, or even Colonel Sheppard," he called after me.

'Yeah right," I reflected, grabbing a couple pieces of fruit and a glass of milk in the mess. I wished they had those cereal dispensers like in most colleges. Makes sense for those of us who work crazy hours, like a few of the other scientists in the room, huddled in small groups. I was alone again, as usual.

A/N: For ease I split this into two parts, and I'll continue if there is interest.