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Title:Mishap on a Nocturnal Planet.
Author:Keenir.
Summary:Elizabeth is locked away, and Rodney must find a way to rescue her.
Dedicated to:Kellyanne, who requested it in the McWeir ficathon.
Requests:a romantic dinner involving MREs, a rumour about McKay and Heightmeyer, an Athosian myth, and a puddlejumper with a door that won't open.
Author's notes:Yes, the hydiru were inspired by thoughts about what sort of a society gargoyles might develop.
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Solar System Pg237-2. Located in the Pegasus Galaxy, it was the two-hundredth thirty-seventh solar system discovered thus far. Its habitable planet was the second from the sun.
Eight thousand years ago, there had been a human empire which ruled over a hundred worlds, only to be eradicated in a Culling. In their heyday, the empire was said to have fought back the hydiru from dozens of planets, but never proved able to remove the hydiru from Pg237-2.
Even when the empire was no more, its subjects lived on – Hoffans, Athosians, Satedans, and many others. They all remembered the hydiru, some better than others. In many instances, hydiru became a bogeyman, the metaphor for an eternal danger that never sleeps. Some of the survivor-successors to the empire argued over just who had carved the gargantuan statues on those worlds lore held to have been fallen hydiru strongholds -- were the statues hydiru-made or products of the empire?
Having no human population for three millennia, Pg237-2 had fallen off Wraith starcharts; thus it was the perfect site for an Atlantis mission with little military oversight. Dr. Elizabeth Weir had instigated the exploration here – in part to thank all the hard work of her community's science contingent, and – if pressed, she would admit as well that – it was also to quell dangerous voices in Atlantis, military and civilian alike.
Trapped in a locked puddlejumper, Elizabeth Weir had nothing but time to muse. She'd radioed for help after the first attack had engaged a security protocol in the puddlejumper, which shut and sealed the door; then had come the second attack, stronger than the first, shutting off everything in the 'jumper. Of all the machines, only the cobbled-together air scrubbers – built by Rodney – were still clinging to life.
She looked across the aisle at Dr. Corrigan. "Anything?" she sked.
"Only that I've come to a bitter realization."
"Which is what?"
"We both spend our lives in the study of mankind, learning all the details of human interaction. We study diplomacy and war, ethics and excuse… and this is the test life drops in our laps!"
Elizabeth nodded with a grimace. Much as she agreed with him, though, "Would it be much of a test if we were ready for it?"
"Some would say that it 'builds character.'"
"And what would you say?"
"'Let me out of here.'"
"I concur."
When the power'd gone out, they'd tried unplugging and plugging-in various wires, plates, and control crystals. Nothing'd happened: not even a spark was generated. The Ancients had built puddlejumpers with many emergency systems and redundancy measures…but every one of them depended on there being power in the 'jumper. Energy shortages were clearly an alien concept to the Ancients.
Having come here to enjoy a dinner with Rodney, Elizabeth now found herself locked in here with a lot of MREs, while Rodney was out there. He'd been first out of the 'jumper, followed by Dr. Heightmeyer. In moments like this, where the term 'guarded moments' took on a second meaning, Elizabeth couldn't help but recall the scuttlebutt she'd heard in the Atlantis messhall, about just whom Rodney McKay really had feelings for.
Kate Heightmeyer.
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OUTSIDE THE 'JUMPER:
Kate Heightmeyer put a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "The remotes don't work," she said. It was obvious, blindingly bloody obvious, but she'd known Rodney to ignore reality when it suited his subconscious to do so. I.e., now.
"There's a few things I haven't tried yet," was Rodney's reply.
Suspecting, "Are they variations of things you've already tried?"
"Yes."
"And is there good odds of it working any better?"
"Not appreciably."
Kate said nothing.
Rodney set down the remote and turned to face her, his movement brushing her hand off of him. "And what would you have me do, hm?"
"There's bound to be other avenues, Rodney."
"Like what?" Not waiting for an answer, "Ooh I know – we can cut down one of these cedar redwoods, because that'd crack the 'jumper like an egg," in full facetious mode. "And then, always assuming," and hoping against hope, if that lunatic act is all the options remaining to us, "that Dr. Corrigan and Elizabeth haven't been jostled and rattled six ways to Sunday, how exactly are we supposed to get back to the stargate? Hm? The United Kingdom isn't as long as this island!" Folding his arms, "So what would you have us do?"
"Walk," Kate said.
Rodney stared at her, incredulous.
Her eyes glowed and, as the glow faded, twinkled with reflected starlight.
He stumbled a halfstep back. "Geez, could ya not do that?" He'd known she was a goa'uld…but that eye trick was still unsettling.
"My host does not like being glared at."
"I wasn't glaring.
"No?"
"No. Staring, maybe; but not glaring." Besides, didn't you tell me once that almost everything makes your host nervous?
"We walk," Kate reiterated, her voice having never dropped to stereotypical goa'uld tones.
"Lovely. And between our standing here, and the five of us walking, what would either of you suggest we do?"
"Scour the area for a hammer or a better tool."
"Are you out of your mind? – that wasn't an invitation, by the way. Are you nuts? It's the middle of the n-" and the word 'night died on his lips; as he recalled that, right now, the gas giant was between the sun and this world, casting a night which would last at least another week. "Let's scour," and they set to work.
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TWENTY HOURS LATER:
It was still night.
Kate was walking through the woods as alone as she could possibly be, when there was a noise off to her left. "What was that?"
Through force of will, Kate didn't jump. "A cricket," she told herself, suppressing the production of adrenaline, releasing a trickle of endorphins. "Nothing to worry about."
"Oh." They walked ten feet more before – "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for."
"You were eager to date Rodney. You looked forwards to seeing him and spending time with him. Then you introduced him to me," which was a big risk, as much to her as to the perceived security of Atlantis – with the exception of Homeworld Security Director General O'Neill, nobody in this SGC-offshoot program was too fond of the goa'uld, and only General O'Neill knew of the goa'uld members of the expedition...maybe Dr. Weir as well.
Kate sighed, a long exhale. "He told nobody. That in itself is a kindness." We are friends.
"Everyone thinks you and he are together." And if it hadn't been for me, you would be. "Why don't you –"
"No," the symbiote said firmly. "The mistakes of others is not our concern. Only the accuracy of our own lives is."
"I just thought that…" shoulders slumping.
"Dr. Weir can have his love; we have his friendship."
More cheerful than before, "That's true." Then, a distant sound struck her ears. "Rodney!" And he was shouting!
Now adrenaline flowed freely, the acid produced by anaerobic reactions in the cells draining to her kidneys as her legs pumped in a ground-eating trot.
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JUST A LITTLE EARLIER:
Rodney McKay slogged yet further across the grassy hillock, watching as his flashlight's glow started to flicker. "Oh great," he muttered, careful to avoid the lip of this hillock. If it was natural, then no matter; if it were manmade, then it was presently immaterial that somebody had overseen the construction of a mound big enough to swamp all the length and breadth of Glasgow.
During one of the longer lights-out intervals – 30 seconds – Rodney's now-shuffling foot struck something – it hadn't been his intent to kick, but it rolled over the lip and down the hill 20 feet high, but with a very gradual incline – he knew where it was because it gave off a faint-and-freckled light from the moment he'd kicked it, its illumination increasing the more it rolled.
"You're saved, Elizabeth!" Rodney cried out, loud as could be, giving chase to the glowing whatever-it-was. 'Eureka' was clichéd and not suitable to such gravity as this. He knew two things: 1. nothing invented develops in isolation, so this couldn't possibly be the only working power source; 2. he now possessed a way to save Elizabeth.
As he ran down the hill after the alien device, and even when he tripped and started cartwheeling head-over-kettle down the slope, Rodney's mind was throwing up worrying problems. Nothing on the order of 'what if Elizabeth's dead when we finally get the 'jumper open'…but still items of lesser concern. Who built these things, and why would they use what seemed to be thrixotropic materials – why did the devices only work when shaken, which if they were truly thrixotropic, would mean that the inner workings of it were switching from solid to liquid….and the scary thing to Rodney was that only thrixotropic substances seemed to fully explain what he was seeing.
When he reached the bottom, he finally managed to stop rolling. Slapping one arm to the side, he picked up the glow-device and held it aloft. "Kate!" he shouted, quietly willing the world to stop spinning, reassuring himself that this spinning was purely psychological. "Can you hear me?" he shouted.
"Of course I heard you, Rodney," Kate's voice said. "I wasn't that far behind." Craning his neck, he saw her standing at the top of the hill, eyes like twin headlamps. "Very interesting, whatever that is. I'm not sure it'd be enough to fix our problem, though."
"Then we use one of the fallen pillars. They've got the same inner coloration as this thing, so all we'd need to do is –"
"- is to get the pillars moving…properly wired, of –"
"-of course."
Neither of them said anything for a while, then Rodney held up one hand, "You mind giving me a hand? My back's killing me." It doesn't feel broken or majorly misaligned, but it still hurts like I'd rather not say.
"Coming."
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Forty Minutes Later:
After testing the principle with the little glow-device and his flashlight, Rodney and Kate hooked up the innards of one of the fallen pillars to the puddlejumper, and then used fulcrums to get it moving – it was enough movement that the innards became liquid for a few seconds, long enough for the puddlejumper to start opening its rear door-hatch. Open enough that Dr.s Weir and Corrigan could crawl out to freedom.
It was a start, at least. They could plan their next move after the four of them'd gotten some sleep taking turns standing guard, of course.
But for right now, Rodney McKay had more important things to devote his attention to. Like enjoying this one-on-one dinner with Elizabeth.
MREs never tasted so good.
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The End.