"Alright people, listen up!"

Major Perry, Commander of the Mess and everything else she deemed within her purview, strode into the kitchen. I set aside the knife I was using to chop shallots, and brushed the sweat off my brow. The kitchen, as usual, was damn near a sauna, and all of us were sweating profusely despite tossing our regulation uniform tops in a pile near the door. Major Perry looked over our disheveled state and shook her head, but said nothing. She'd been after the brains to fix the ventilation, but there was always something else 'more urgent' for them to fiddle with. Honestly, it took us threatening their coffee supply before they got around to routing enough power to work all the food stations.

"Okay, I have a few announcements," the Major continued when she saw she had our full attention. "First off, the Athosians on base are grumbling that we're not making enough of their dishes. Fix that. We could do with fewer tater tots and more tuttle root soup. If anyone complains, and they will, tell them to take it up with Teyla. If they dare. Second, the next scheduled resupply from Earth is in three weeks, so go easy on the things we can't source locally. Finally, I need a volunteer to check on the experimental vegetable garden we planted several months back on M2S-489. You'll be accompanying Colonel Sheppard's team."

The kitchen was suddenly filled with people doing their very best to look anywhere but at the Major.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, sounding genuinely bewildered at the lack of enthusiasm. Bless her heart. There were a few mumbles from the crowd.

"This is an opportunity to go off world," she exclaimed. "Normally I'd be beating you all back with a stick! Now what is the issue here?"

"Ain't none of us want to die!" someone called from the back. Murmurs of agreement followed.

"What are you talking about?" Major Perry asked, fists on ample hips. She may look like everybody's favorite community college pottery teacher, but the woman's all military when riled.

"Colonel Sheppard's a great leader, I'm sure," one of the patissiers piped up. "Thing is, he doesn't have the greatest track record with non-team members."

Major Perry looked around the kitchen at all the nodding heads, and blinked.

"Nonsense," she said. "He's a very conscientious leader. It is simply that he takes on more difficult missions than most."

"With all due respect," I chimed in. "Going on a mission with Sheppard's team, you might as well be wearing a red shirt."

"I don't even know what that means," the Major said, exasperated now. "This isn't a mission. Colonel Sheppard's team merely has a few minor tasks at an alpha site, and we're tagging along. Now, volunteers." She looked around her still unwilling staff, and sighed. "Fine. Findley. You're it." I groaned silently. "You've gone through the food plant safety program at SGC. Meet the Colonel and his team at the gate room at 0600." She smiled nastily. "And don't forget your red shirt." She turned on her heel and marched out.

"Well, I'm screwed," I muttered. My stationmate, Deb, reached over and scooped my shallots into her skillet.

"I talked to Chuck earlier," she said. "Sheppard's team is doing environmental readings and light recon there."

"You mean the anointed ones have been reduced to data collection and guard duty at an unspoiled alpha site? Why ever for?"

"Apparently they've been through some pretty rough missions lately, and Woolsey feels they need a break."

"They must be so tired," I simpered. "The poor little lambs!"

"Fin, you're such a bitch!" Deb giggled.

"And you love it," I grinned, reaching for a fresh bunch of sort-of carrots.

Now, here's the deal. I don't have a problem with Sheppard or his team, for the most part. Maybe they're a little cliqueish, and Dr McKay is a pain in the ass with all his dietary demands, which we mostly ignore, but they seem okay. Thing is, they're considered the Golden Children of the base. The stunts they've gotten away with over the years are astounding, as are the lengths the command will go to pull their asses out of the fire. The problem comes in when not every other team gets that same support. There are dozens of men who are still listed as MIA, and bodies never recovered from where they fell, but if Sheppard or any of his people disappear, it's red alert, all teams go until they're rescued, and damn the collateral damage. And to be totally honest, every time a soldier falls to the Wraith, there's always a friend or a lover who looks over the flag draped casket toward Sheppard with just the tiniest hint of accusation. Do I sound bitter? Maybe I am, just a little, but I've been here on Atlantis from the beginning. These past years haven't been easy on any of us.

I finished up my duties early, grabbed a bite to eat, and ran up to my quarters. I looked around my room for the gear I'd need; portable plant database, testing kits, utility knife, water bottle, digital camera. We'd be back before dark, so I wouldn't need much else. I looked at the free space in my pack, and after a moment, I touched my earpiece.

"Chuck? Fin here. Could you locate Dr. Zelenka for me?"

I met Sheppard and his team at the gate room at the ungodly hour of 0600. I could hear Dr. McKay's well known whine from across the large room.

"Why can't we take a puddle jumper? It would be a lot faster if we did."

"The site is only two kilometers from the gate," Sheppard said. "There's no reason to take a puddle jumper."

"Well, ever since I got shot in the ass by an arrow, I've been prone to sciatica."

"Rodney, that was like four years ago!" Sheppard replied, sounding exasperated now. "Let it go!"

"The walk is a very short and pleasant one," Teyla interjected gently.

"Really?" McKay said doubtfully.

"'Sides," Ronon added. "You could use the exercise. You look like you've put on a few pounds."

"I have not!" McKay protested shrilly. "I am exactly the same weight I've always been! Just because some of us don't look like the cover of a Robert E. Howard novel doesn't mean we've been gaining weight!"

Seriously? I was going to have spend all day listening to this?

Sheppard caught sight of me, and his face lit up.

"And this must be our charming travel companion. I'm John Sheppard."

"Findley, sir. Fin."

"Well, uh, Fin, this is Dr. Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagen, and Ronon Dex." He motioned to the others. Teyla smiled warmly, Ronon nodded curtly, and McKay ignored me, fixated on his tablet.

"We've met," Teyla laughed. "How are you, Fin?"

"Doing well, Ma'am, really looking forward to this trip," I lied.

"Oh, you know each other?" Sheppard said, surprised. "I don't think I've seen you before. You new to the Pegasus galaxy?"

"I arrived here with your team, sir."

"Oh, when we returned a few months back, then."

"Six years ago, sir. Original expedition"

"Oh. Um. Well, then." The tips of his ears turned red. Anyone ever notice he has pointed ears? Next we'll find out he's half elf, or something. It would explain the ridiculous amount of luck the man has. "I'm a little groggy this morning. Haven't had my coffee. I'm sure we've met at some point. In the, um, past six years."

"Of course, sir." Jackass.

"You been off world before?" Ronon grunted.

"Yes. I was on the team of botanists and support staff who planned and planted the patch."

"Good," he said. "Then you know to stay near us and keep your head down if there's trouble."

"There's not gonna be any trouble," Sheppard interjected. "This is just a stroll in the park, a little data gathering, and a picnic in the grass. Right, Fin?"

"Got the blanket in my pack, sir."

"Boring," Ronon muttered. Hasn't anyone bothered doing something about this dude's testosterone levels?

"Alright," Sheppard said, ignoring Ronon's last remark. "Let's head on out."

In front of us, the gate activated with a liquid whoosh, and we stepped through the blue glow, and on to another planet.