MAD MEN OF MUC-MUC
By NotTasha... I apologize ahead of time

RATING: PG-13 for Language
SEASON: Sometime during the 1st Season - ah, before "The Brotherhood" probably
MAJOR CHARACTERS: McKay, Sheppard, Teyla and Ford
DISCLAIMERS: The characters, Atlantis, etc, all belong to MGM, Gecko, Showtime, the Sci-Fi Channel. I own nothing.
NOTE: As always, I don't know much about SG stuff... and science makes my head spin. Sorry if this doesn't all make sense. It all makes my head spin
SUMMARY: The team investigates some ruins, Rodney falls down a hole, and the rest of them run into some rather obnoxious residents
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: Thanks Tipper and Sable Cain for your comments, corrections, etc. They're not really responsible for what follows, but Tipper messed me up pretty good with this whole SGA stuff, so I still blame her.
FEEDBACK: Yes please! Reviews are appreciated
SPOILERS: a little bit for "The Rising", "Underground", "The Defiant One"


CHAPTER 1: MUCKING AROUND

"So," McKay started again, as he poked around what remained of an old stone building on P6H-145. "You're sure they're just legends?" Nervously, he glanced over his shoulder, before turning to Teyla.

Ford groaned. Sheppard rolled his eyes, and Teyla, with as much patience as she could muster, stated, "Dr. McKay, I have long heard legends of the Muc-muc, but my people have often come to this planet to collect fruit and none have seen them."

"But you said that most people don't travel far from the Gate, just in case," McKay added quickly. "I mean, it sounds like a good idea to stay near the exit when a planet is infested with vicious wild men."

Teyla responded, "It is true that visitors remain near the Gate. But the berries grow densely in that area. All that is sought is near at hand. But, there are some that venture farther. We have seen the remnants of their camps. Still, none have seen the Muc-muc. If they exist, certainly someone would have reported it."

"These the same berries that you all used to make that wine we had back on the mainland?" Ford asked.

"They are the same," the Athosian responded, smiling knowingly.

Tilting his head a fraction, John remarked, "Mighty tasty hootch. Yeah, that'd be worth the risk of coming here. Worth risking a run in with the wild Muc-mucs."

"We might want to make a stop on our way back," Ford suggested. "Collect some samples, you know… for research."

"My kind of research," Sheppard responded. "Does it take long to ferment?"

"Only a year in most cases," Teyla told them. "But there are ways of shortening the span without affecting the taste greatly."

"Gotta look into that," Sheppard resolved.

"Still," McKay put in, glaring at the others for taking the conversation off track. "These Muc-muc may exist. The don't sound like the type that'll listen to reason – spears – stone knives – primitive language -- I mean, that can't be a good thing to come up against. How do you reason against people like that?"

"They are merely legends," Teyla said tiredly.

"Yeah, but, it seems like a lot of your mere 'legends' have some basis in fact." McKay's gaze flitted about the busted up walls, as he scuffed at it with his brush.

Teyla smiled tightly. "Yes," she responded, "But in all the years that we have visited this world, never has anyone seen the Muc-muc. Certainly, one would have made its presence known in such time."

"Not if one doesn't want to be seen," McKay corrected. "Maybe, for a change of pace, a race actually got smart enough to move AWAY from the gate in order to avoid a culling."

"The Gate on this planet is accessible by flying craft," Teyla reminded, nodding toward where the puddle jumper waited for them. "The Wraith would have no difficulty in traveling anywhere on this planet. But even if this were not so, there is no safety from the Wraith if one's planet is chosen for culling. The people would be found."

"Maybe that's why they're not around any more," Ford put in. "They got themselves culled out because they hid when the big bad wolf came knocking."

"It is not like the Wraith to completely eliminate their food source from any world," Teyla told them. "And there are no 'wolves' on this planet," she corrected, having seen images of the animal that Ford had mentioned.

"Well," Ford started, and paused before going back to his original tack. "Of course, if the Wraith were really ticked off, they might have gone off on them," Ford detailed.

Sheppard nodded. "Maybe making the Wraith go searching for them was enough to really piss 'em off," he put in. "I know I'd be." Smiling smugly, he turned to McKay and stated, "Anyway, they're gone. No muckity-mucks to scare you."

"Muc-mucs," Teyla corrected.

"The mad men of Muc-muc world," McKay added, using the large, dry paintbrush to clean away the debris marring one painting. "Killing anyone who dares step on their world. I know one thing for sure, I don't want to end up in their dinner pot tonight."

Teyla let out an exasperated sigh. "They are not known to be cannibals, Dr. McKay. They will not eat you."

Scowling, Rodney responded, "Doesn't mean that they won't!" He paused, using the brush to point, "They might find me… delectable." When the others laughed, he countered with, "You never know! And, see! You do believe that they exist!"

"It is possible," Teyla consented. "But improbable."

McKay grunted and continued his work. Teyla folded her arms across her chest, and Ford looked bored. Sheppard leaned against one of the partially-destroyed walls of the mostly-destroyed ruin, and gazed out at the trees that surrounded them.

P6H-145 was a pleasant enough planet – nicely green, mild, apparently uninhabited -- in spite of the legends of the wild Muc-mucs. Teyla had filled them in during the briefing – wide-eyed, longhaired, ape-like men. They would descend from the trees and impale all comers with their deadly-accurate spears.

The major leaned, looking out across the open space at the trees. It really was a rather nice location. The ruins lived up to their names and proved to be mostly ruined – little of use had been found outside of the symbols that McKay was currently studying. It was true – hardly anyone came this far. The location was a two-hour walk from the Gate – minutes by puddle jumper. They'd found an old wooden shack, where someone in the past had bivouacked while messing about in the ruin – a temporary shelter that had probably been abandoned for decades.

The site was well hidden among the trees. They never would have found it if McKay hadn't discovered a weak power signature. "Something's out there," he'd stated under his breath, "let's check it out! Power, you know, is good." But they'd yet to find what caused the fluctuations on his scanner.

He'd studied the readouts, frustrated and curious at the same time. They'd searched for the source – but it remained illusive. There was no sign of anything in the ruins. So, McKay spent his time trying to read the blasted remains of an Ancient building – hoping to find some clue to where to look next.

They'd spent all day mucking around on the Muc-mucs' home turf, finding little. Shepard yawned, letting his gaze drift.

"It says here," the Canadian spoke behind him. "Hand of Fire is…." And he frowned and he flicked away the dirt. "Fiery?" he tried and increased his frown, and pressed the brush handle against his lips as he considered this.

"Makes sense," Ford decided.

"Well, yes," McKay consented. "But it may mean… potent, influential, pungent."

Ford shrugged, then asked, "What do you think the Hand of Fire is?"

"Could be just about anything," McKay responded irritated. "I don't have enough information yet. Let's see... let's see..." and he brushed again and the wall. "Here...That the 'Seat of Power is within'." He tapped at the broken wall with his brush.

"Within what?" Ford responded. "They got a chair in there?"

With a sigh, McKay explained, "It could refer to that power source – inside something. But could also be simply a metaphor." He tapped the brush again. "It could mean -- ah -- look inside yourself to find strength."

Ford harrumphed. "Sounds like a fortune cookie to me," he responded.

"Well, yes," McKay replied. "The Ancients do that Confucius thing from time to time. Wish they'd be more upfront about what they're trying to say. Lucky for all of you, though, I've become an expert at decoding their little riddles." And he hummed happily as he continued to clean away the dirt on the wall.

"What is a Confucius and how does it relate to cookies?" Teyla asked, remembering the chocolate chip cookies that were served in the Mess. She rather liked them.

"Fortune cookies," McKay started. "Well, Teyla, they are little pastries served after meals in Chinese restaurants – but not in China. Crack them open and find your 'fortune': pithy statements that are universally unhelpful. Not terribly tasty, the cookies, mind you. But of course, the Chinese restaurants you'll find in most North American cities are not anything like the true Chinese food." McKay smiled wistfully, getting into one of his favorite subjects -- food.

As McKay spoke, Sheppard spotted something. He turned sharply, gazing into the canopy of trees. What was that? Something moved. A bird maybe? He squinted, then snatched the binoculars from his vest pocket. Lifting it to his eyes, he closed in on what he'd spotted. There, something moving. A human face appeared, leaning through the branches and leaves – a face smeared with mud – hair falling in thick braids. A man stared out with a calculating expression.

Sheppard held up a hand to silence the others, as the man gazed back at Sheppard.

McKay went on, oblivious. " The United States is probably the most guilty of ruining this cuisine. Can't eat any of it. The MSG… you know… trouble. Gives me these raging migraines. What you'll find in those eateries is nothing like what you'll get on the streets of Qingdao or Shanghai. Vancouver, on the other hand... not so bad. They have an excellent Chinatown. There's this little place called 'Mr. Lu's'…."

"Somebody shut him up," Sheppard hissed, watching the eyes that watched him. The man, realizing he was being observed, scowled, and the face disappeared into the green. Then the whole canopy seemed to shake.

Sheppard pulled the Life Sign Detector from his vest and watched as it came alight with dots.

"What?" McKay responded, obviously perturbed. "What do you have against real Chinese food? Don't tell me that you actually like sweet-n-sour pork with glowing red sauce? Almond chicken?"

Squinting as he dropped the binoculars into his pocket, Sheppard saw them, leaping down from their perches – men wearing little more than loincloths – hefting spears. He counted about twenty of them. Sheppard drew back from his spot, spun about and grabbed his pack. "We're going. We're going now."

With a shake of his head, McKay informed him, "I'm not finished. Look, I've only been able to reveal a portion of the symbols. Some of this doesn't even appear to have been written by Ancients. I still don't know where the power source is. This Seat of Power might have something…."

"Get back to the jumper, now!" John responded quickly. He scooped up McKay's pack and threw it at him.

"Why?" McKay replied petulantly.

"You know those Muc-mucs that Teyla was talking about?" John asked as he crossed the area and turned to move toward the ship. "The ones you've been obsessing about?" A sound rose up – an unearthly wail -- like the yipping of foxes -- the screeching of hawks -- the belching of bullfrogs. "They're coming."

McKay's face seemed to drain of color as he clutched the pack to his chest and, after a second, he took off after the Major. Teyla and Ford ran with them. The eerie keen continued – men set on a kill.

We'll make it, Sheppard decided as they ran to the jumper. Just got to keep ahead of them. Get to the jumper and then cool our heels a bit. Their group might have been better armed, but the Muc-mucs had better numbers. Primitive weapons hurt. Sometimes it was better to retreat with your life, then to hang around to see what happened next.

He dodged through what remained of the old building, passing the abandoned wood shelter, dodged down an opening between two toppled walls, and the jumper was in sight. Still running, he turned toward the rest of his group, to ensure they were still with him. Teyla and Ford were right behind him, with McKay just emerging from between the broken walls, huffing, stumbling, and taking a shortcut through the outlined remains of a long gone building.

Sheppard keyed his GDO, programmed to open the hatch of the jumper, and stepped forward to enter it. Behind him, he heard a startled, "Ahhh!" from McKay.

Spinning, he spotted Ford and Teyla, both standing stock-still, looking back the way they came. McKay was gone. John crinkled his brow in confusion as Teyla and Ford moved away from jumper instead of toward it, quickly – cautiously, stepping over that foot high wall that delineated where something once stood.

"What the hell…" Sheppard started.

"Doc!" Ford shouted, dropping to his hands and knees. "Doc! Where are you?"

Teyla went to her knees beside him as Ford unhooked his P90 and turned on its light. He shone it into the ground. "Doctor McKay?" she called.

Sheppard stepped to them, confused, as Ford continued to call. "Doc! Are you okay?" The major reached them, finding a black hole in the ground and the splintered remains of a wood panel that had rotted. The lieutenant glanced up at his superior. "It just swallowed him up. One minute he was running at us, and the next he dropped straight through the ground."

Sheppard leaned in, his heart pounding as he realized what must have happened, that some old panel had given way beneath McKay's feet, sending him plummeting into a hole. A narrow pit yawned beneath them. Finally, the light caught the scientist, a good 20 feet below.

"Rodney!" Sheppard shouted, watching as the astrophysicist moved in the narrow pit. McKay rubbed at his head with one hand, crumpled in the corner of the shaft.

God damnit! Oh God, this sucks! Could this have happened at a worse time? Leave it to McKay to be the only one to fall into a pit!

The frenzied shout of the wild-men filled the air, getting closer with every passing moment.

Rodney suddenly lifted his head and gazed up at them. Looking shocked and stunned, he shouted, "Get me out of here!"

Sheppard looked away, to the direction of the approaching Muc-mucs. Oh, crap… this was not the time to have to deal with something like this! Maybe he could he reason with those men. Were these the type of people who would stop and sit down to a détente? They were wearing breechcloths. Could you reason with a man that wore so little?

"We have to go," Teyla said urgently, getting to her feet. "Now."

But there was no time. McKay staggered to his feet under the glow of Ford's light. "Get me out! Hurry!" he demanded, leaning against the stone walls that surrounded him.

The crowd was getting closer, screaming their lungs out. Those spears had sure looked pointy.

With a groan of disgust, Sheppard stepped away from the pit, to the little wood shack. With three fierce kicks, he'd reduced it to rubble. "Gimmie a hand!" he demanded to the others, and soon they were dragging one of the toppled walls toward the pit.

"What are you doing?" McKay shouted anxiously as soon as they'd disappeared from sight. "Where are you going? What's happening? You're not leaving me. Don't leave me!" When John appeared above him again, he smiled gratefully, beaming like a happy child. The smile fell as he saw the heavy wooden wall being dragged over the hole. "NO!" he shouted.

"Keep quiet!" Sheppard shouted down at him. "I mean it, McKay, don't make a sound."

"No! no no no no!" McKay called frantically back at them, scrabbling at the wall in an attempt to climb. "Don't do that! Don't leave me here! I don't… I don't do well in … small places. Really…this isn't good!"

"They're coming! We can't get you out in time!" Sheppard shouted back. "Stay quiet. Stay calm. You're going to be fine! We'll keep an eye on you. Don't worry."

"No!" McKay frantically called back, hopping unsteadily to catch his balance. "You can't!"

"It is the only logical choice," Teyla assured, helping to maneuver the heavy piece.

"You'll be fine," Ford told him.

"No!" McKay shouted. "This is a BAD idea. Can I tell you how bad it is? Any number of things are going to go wrong! Listen, it's my life at stake. You have to get me out! This is SUCH a bad idea!"

Sheppard frowned, not liking it much either, but he had little choice at the moment. "Stay quiet! Not a peep!" he ordered and let the wall fall. He heard an anguished "NO!" from beneath his feet, but there was nothing to be done now. The remaining three members turned and ran the distance to the jumper, cloaking it just before the first of the Muc-muc burst into the area.

TBC - AIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiii! McKay took a whoopsie-daisy right into a hole!