Red or Green (aka Frustrated Ronon) by NebbyJen
Ronon glared at the jumble of wires protruding like unruly children
from the cracked console. There was every color imaginable and he
jabbed his thick finger in disgust at the closest black one before
pausing to draw his hand back. He'd watched enough of Lorne's movies to
know one wrong move and things could go from bad to worse in less than
a heartbeat. And with the way his luck had run all morning, the risk
was already too great. Resigned to the headache he knew would erupt in
a matter of seconds, he grunted, swore a curse taught to him years ago
by his father, then activated his earpiece.
"McKay."
The response was less than instantaneous and filled with
contempt. "Very busy here. What do you want?"
Ronon's eyes narrowed, a deep scowl creasing his brow. "Which one is
it? The red or the green?"
"If I had any idea what you were talking about I might be able to tell
you. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not clairvoyant."
Patience depleted and hunger pains gnawing large holes through his
stomach, the large man's fist smashed into the wall with an audible
thump. "The transporter door's jammed. Which wire do I rip out to open
it, red or green?"
There was a momentary burst of silence over the communication device
before the spluttering erupted. "Rip out?!" Indignation flowed in
waves. "You overgrown..." the rain of insults was lost, drowned out by
the clang of a stool crashing abruptly to the floor in the lab.
Ronon's second strike to the wall left a noticeable dent before another
familiar voice hesitantly spoke.
"Ronon?"
"Zelenka."
"Uh, yes. You are in lift and door is stuck?"
He merely grunted, the pain behind his eyes easing slightly.
"Beside door is three tiles..."
"They're dark," the large man supplied. Earlier, before trying to take
the console apart, he'd attempted to rearrange the dead tiles to no
avail.
"Yes, I know. You need to reactivate control to door..."
"Which wire?"
"I do not understand."
Ronon was back to the jumble of wires, again poking and tugging on
certain colors. "The red or the green. Which one do I pull out to make
the door open?"
"No, don't touch!" the smaller scientist snapped, followed by the sound
of someone choking and then multiple thick thumps.
"I didn't do anything," Ronon growled.
"Sorry, not you. Rodney swallowed sandwich whole. Eat like pig. No, you
need to pull handle underneath tiles."
Back to the door, he searched for a handle and came up empty. "There
isn't one."
"Yes there is. Open small panel and pull clear handle."
Could it be that simple? The panel was there and opened with ease. A
quick tug activated whatever it took to light the tiles, and with an
eye roll to the ceiling he stepped back in front of the doors. They
silently slid apart; fresh air entered the small cabin. Freedom.
His heavy boots stepped to the hallway floor, the mess he left behind
for someone else to take care of. "Thanks."
"Welcome," the warm accent replied.
The end.
