Natural Selection
White.
The cast had once been almost painfully white, pristine as it had encased Moira O'Meara's wounded foot. Now it was covered with various scrawls, signatures of friends. She held the two pieces of the cast in her hands, turning it over, smiling as she read the various messages. The inevitable "get well" from Aaron Josephes. The comical "don't break a leg" from Evan Lorne, with a cartoon drawing of a sabertooth cat. The simple yet elegant signature of Katie Brown. The long, almost illegible scrawl reading "to my favorite paleozoologist" from John Sheppard.
She recalled his serious expression as he had signed it. Brows furrowed in concentration, tongue flicking across his lips as he tried to make the word paleozoologist fit across the bumpy, short surface of her foot. His smile when he had finished. His brilliant green eyes meeting hers.
Moira set the pieces aside, flexed her foot in its softer, yet more awkward orthopedic shoe. She
grabbed her data pad, changed her mind, set it on the bed. Headed out of her room.
The cafeteria was full. Scientists and soldiers enjoyed their meals, clustered in somewhat segregated groups. Moira moved among them, searching tables, searching faces. Her impatient expression and increasingly unsteady gait drew Carson Beckett's attention.
The doctor stood, deliberately blocking her progress. "Moira, is there something wrong?"
"Wrong? No, no...I was just looking for Evan. Is he back from his mission yet?"
"I don't think so. The last team I cleared from an off-world mission was Colonel Sheppard's, and that was two hours ago. Is there something I can help you with, love?" he inquired with a smile, his Scottish lilt inviting confidences.
She smiled. "No, Carson. I just came across some interesting details in the data I've been studying. Thank you." She hesitated, debated. "Do you know where I might find Colonel Sheppard?" She glanced at the table where Carson's sandwich awaited his return.
Carson smiled. "My best guess is the conference room. Or the Jumper bay. Or his quarters. You could always have him paged over the–"
"No! No, no, I will wait for Evan," Moira retreated. "If I don't see him on my travels...um, enjoy your lunch."
Moira paused at the open doorway to the conference room. It was empty. The Jumper bay swarmed with technicians but no errant colonel. Running out of options she hastened down yet another set of hallways. Her foot began to ache with the unexpected exertion. Although severely damaged by a sub-wraith Carson had managed to repair it, restoring tissue and muscle that had been savagely rent by vicious claws.
Coming to a stop outside a door she hesitated. Chewed her lower lip, debating. She rapped her knuckles on the door loudly. "Colonel Sheppard? John, it's Moira. I found something."
"Moira O'Meara," John's voice called from the other side of the door, sounding pleased. Inviting.
Hearing his voice, his tone she waved her hand over the access panel. The door opened silently. She limped into the room heedlessly, already talking. "John, I came across an interesting entry in the records from Miocene Park and I think they could be be be be..." she stuttered, froze. Embarrassed and enamored all at once.
John stood near the neatly made bed, wearing only a pair of gray running pants. Filtered blue light from the windows played over his dark, messy hair. His broad shoulders. His finely sculpted, lean torso. Tiny drops glistened in the hair on his chest, either from water or sweat. His muscles arms flexed as he rubbed his hands together. "Be be be be what?" he teased, not oblivious to her reaction but distracted by her appearance.
Moira was staring, nearly gawking, rosy lips parted, brown eyes widening. A green t-shirt with Celtic designs printed above her breasts hugged her form. Her tan slacks nicely enfolded her curves. The ubiquitous ponytail of brown hair trailed behind her. A tan orthopedic shoe had replaced the cast, but was in stark contrast to her other dark brown shoe.
She moved her mouth, but no words came. She threw her gaze across his room, at the almost Spartan bed, the row of books on a shelf, the poster of Johnny Cash on the wall. The unexpected sight of a guitar propped in the corner. She pivoted, winced as her foot protested the sudden motion. "I, I, I'm sorry, John! I shouldn't have rushed in like that, like this, I'll go, I'll leave you to to to..." she stammered, lurching towards the door. Her foot refused to make the quick step.
John smiled, but caught her in the doorway before she fell through the opening. "Moira, wait. It must be important for you to barge in on me." As she turned awkwardly her breasts brushed across his bare arm. He released her elbows, only to slide his grasp around her waist and pull her close, out of the doorway. She touched his shoulders, fingers skimming down to his biceps, staring down as she righted herself. She placed her stubborn foot flat on the ground next to the other one.
"Thank you. I...I was looking for Evan, actually."
"Evan?" His grasp seemed to stiffen. "In my room?"
"No, he's still on a mission," she answered, still staring at her foot, but her eyes could not help but wander along the gray pants. The loose material encasing long legs. Her gaze darted up to his waist quickly, then back to her foot.
"And you thought that mission might be in my room?" he teased, amused at her wandering yet trying not to wander gaze. Even as his did the same, across the Celtic knots on the t-shirt which only seemed to highlight the swells of her breasts. The feel of her soft touch. The feel of her waist beneath his hands, which slipped slightly towards her hips.
She met his gaze, her eyes traveling up to his face slowly. "No!" she snapped. She smiled. Grasped his hands at her hips, freed herself and stepped to the center of the room, her back to him now. "I found something interesting, well, intriguing actually and it could warrant a possible mission."
John was surprised at the suddenness of her escape. Disappointed. He silently chided himself for not kissing her when he had her so close, so vulnerable. The searing kiss she had given him on their last mission asserted itself into his mind. He waved a hand over the console, closing the door, even as he stared at the fall of her bound hair down her back. The tan slacks snugly hugging her shapely rear. It took a moment for him to notice her awkward stance, turning her foot this way and that. He stepped to her, took her elbow, guided her to the bed. "Sit."
She glanced at the empty chair near the bed. A black t-shirt was slung across the back of it. "I can always come back later, after you–"
"Get dressed? No. Talk," he said simply. Waited. He sat in the wheeled chair, rolled it closer to the bed. Grabbed the t-shirt from behind him and held it.
She sat on the edge of the bed. "M1K439."
He waited. Considered. "Could you be more explicit?"
"Would you like me to be?" she teased. At his slow smile she eyed her sore foot. Moved it slowly. "M1K439. The waterfall planet."
"Yes?"
"You led your team there, a while back. What do you remember about it?"
"Waterfalls. Lots and lots of waterfalls," he quipped.
She sighed, met his merry gaze. "Nothing else?"
"No." He stood, pulled the t-shirt over his head. "Why?" he asked in the confines of the material. "What is this sudden interest in M1K439?"
Moira watched his torso, his chest, the muscles flexing as he raised his arms to pull on the t-shirt. As it obscured his handsome face, then slid down, draping his form to his pants. "I found several references to it in the data Thomas downloaded for me. From M1M369."
"Thomas? Ah...Kavanaugh," he recalled, running a hand through his hair.
"Yes," she said, trying to ignore his flirtatious behavior. Failing. "There are several references to the planet M1K439. Natura nonfacit saltum. Over and over." At his puzzled gaze she smiled almost smugly, translated, "Nature does not make a leap. And another phrase. Novus vita. New life."
"I see. And based on these obscure Latin references you infer some significance?"
"I don't know," she admitted. Stood. "But it must be important. It is repeated over and over in the database from Miocene Park, about M1K439. It could be about the prehistoric seeding, the sub-wraith, anything! John," she touched his arm, "what if the Ancients seeded another planet with megafauna? Can you imagine if we had two such worlds to study, not just one?" she exclaimed, brown eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
"Miocene Park?" he asked, her excitement contagious. He tried to ignore it.
"Yes, M1M369. That's what Evan named it, after the incredible megafauna we discovered there. Although to be fair the animals came from all different epochs. The Eocene. The Oligocene. Even the more recent Pliocene which begs the question if they took life from closer to our own–"
"Evan again," John muttered, cutting off her rising exposition.
Moira withdrew her hand, limped to the door. Her enthusiasm quashed by his seeming indifference. Almost mockery. "Fine. I didn't mean to bore you, colonel. I have the data files if you need to see them," she said, opening the door with a wave of her hand, "but this alone would have been enough for Evan to present a possible mission prospect to Doctor Weir."
John moved quickly to intercept her, waved the door closed before she could escape. Stuck his arm out to block her exit, palm against the wall. "I will need to see those files, Moira, to determine if there is a reason to lead a mission in the first place."
"Evan can lead our team on this," she argued. "I figured you would need more convincing. That's why I wanted to talk to Evan, not you. He is more willing to accept my conclusions and hunches."
"I'll just bet he is," John sourly noted, gaze narrowing.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, angry at the insinuation. Glaring at him.
"Oh, I think you know," he countered. Their gazes held, held, until she sighed.
"Don't be ridiculous! If you let me go I will assemble the data files for your inspection, Colonel Sheppard."
"Back to that, are we? I can't just authorize a mission to an unknown planet based on the
invalidated suspicions of a biologist, oh, excuse me, a paleozoologist. Especially when you haven't even clarified those suspicions or made any convincing conclusions. Besides," he continued, overriding her beginning protest as an odd jealousy made him angry, "any mission suggestions or requests made by Major Lorne must be approved by me as well as by Doctor Weir. I don't care how much blarney you use to captivate him. He is not going anywhere without my express orders. We are not running a willy-nilly exploration service."
"Willy-nilly?" she asked, not certain whether to be amused or angered. "I see. In that case, Colonel, oh, excuse me, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, I will assemble the data and whatever conclusions I can construe to your complete satisfaction."
"My complete satisfaction?" he repeated, a sensual undertone to his voice. "I expect nothing less, Doctor O'Meara. And if you could do it in English? That would be very helpful," he acerbically commented. "No Latin. No long scientific expositions."
She frowned. "Oh, don't you worry, colonel. I will be certain to make it as simplistic as possible, so even you can understand it. Without a trace of blarney to confuse that pretty head of yours."
She pushed his arm aside, waved the door open and finally made her exit.
"Good!" he called after her, stepping out of the room to watch her limp quickly. "I wouldn't want my pretty head to be confused by your zoological verbosity!" He looked over as Ronon Dex paused, stared at him. "What?" he snapped. "She started it," he muttered, closing his door and striding down the hallway, shaking his head.
***********************************************************************
Elizabeth Weir strolled into the 'Gateroom. A team emerged from the shimmering vortex. As the wormhole dissipated she frowned. Two of the marines were carrying a woman between them. She was unconscious, clad in heavy, dirty garments. Blood stains were prevalent. "Major Lorne? I distinctly recall sending a team of four. Who is this?"
Evan frowned, glancing at the woman. "She needs medical attention. She's been beaten..almost literally stoned to death, Doctor Weir."
"Stoned to death?" Elizabeth repeated, shocked. She tapped her earpiece. "Carson, I need you to the 'Gateroom. STAT! Major, what happened on P12X47?"
"It's a very primitive, backward world," Thomas Kavanaugh, explained, shaking his head in obvious disgust. "No technology, not even the rudiments of a civilized society." He pushed his glasses up his nose. "Another useless mission to a useless world."
"I'm afraid he's right, ma'am," Evan agreed. "The people are living in extremely crude villages...I even hesitate to describe them as villages. There's no evidence of any rudimentary agriculture. They live off the land. Hunter-gatherers. They had only very basic language skills and knew nothing about the Stargate."
"And they don't like visitors," Aaron Josephes added. The young lieutenant was shaking his head, staring at the wounded woman. "Or anyone different. Or anyone at all, apparently, not even..." His voice trailed into silence.
"There was no reason to go to that planet," Thomas stated. "Certainly no reason for me to go. For anyone! There was nothing of interest or of value."
"Good heavens!" Carson exclaimed upon seeing his patient. "Gurney, here!" As they set the woman upon it he checked her vitals, muttering to himself. "She's got a strong pulse...minor injuries but so many! Bruises...lacerations but nothing life-threatening. I'll need to do a complete scan for any internal injuries." He shook his head. "Whatever happened?"
"We came across her. Tied to a stake in the center of a...gathering. They were throwing stones at her. We had to intervene," Evan explained. "I've never seen anything like it. A scene right out of the Dark Ages."
"Out of several ages, unfortunately," Elizabeth corrected. She watched the woman being wheeled to the infirmary, looked back at Evan. "Did they even try to explain their actions? However horrible it must have been perhaps she broke some law, some tribal taboo?"
"No, ma'am. They didn't want to talk, and when they did it was very brusque. Hard to understand." He shrugged. "They let us take her without a fight, although there was a lot of yelling and waving of sticks. Some kind of ceremony. The head...priest, I guess, called her a cursor luctuosus. Cursor luctuosus apage te! he kept shouting. I know that's Latin, but I have no idea what it means."
"All right. We'll go over this in half an hour. Have your men stand down. Doctor Kavanaugh, do you have anything to report?"
Thomas sighed. "No, Doctor Weir. As I have been saying, there was absolutely nothing of interest on that planet. No technology. No viable resources. Not a sign of any Ancient structures except for the Stargate and the DHD. And those were covered with cobwebs! I wonder why the Ancients bothered to put a Stargate there at all."
***********************************************************************
Moira sat at her desk in the biology laboratory, combing through the retrieved data. Her anger vied with amusement, seeing his arguments were reasonable as well as infuriating. Her mind lingered on the sight of him, half-clothed. The teasing. The flirtatious banter. The searing kiss she had given him on M1M396, and longed to repeat, but so far he had not reciprocated. Collecting her data on a flash drive she headed out of the lab.
Once again Moira found herself in the cafeteria. Laptop in hand she perused the tables, smiled, slid across from her team leader. "Evan. How did it go? Did I miss anything?"
"Nothing to interest you. Except the hunter-gatherers. We rescued a damsel in distress, though. Tied to a stake, but there was no dragon, so don't get your hopes up. Oh oh...I know that look, O'Meara. What is it?" he asked, pausing to lower his sandwich.
She smiled, opened the laptop. "I've discovered some interesting notes in the downloaded data from Miocene Park. You see on the far right, alongside the codes and data concerning the planet there is a series of Stargate symbols. Addresses...well, one address, really." She turned the screen towards him.
"Yes...here. And here. The same one?"
"Yes. The address is for M1K439. The waterfall planet. And by every designation are two Latin addendums–nature does not leap, and new life. Evan, somehow these two planets are connected. The repeating references and notations could be significant."
"More Latin," he grumbled, sighed. "Significant how?"
"I don't know. Yet. But we could find out. I checked on M1K439. There were no significant findings. But the exploratory team was not there too long, just a quick check of the planet to see if it was habitable. I think we should investigate it. Who knows what we could find. Another Miocene Park, perhaps?"
"I see." He studied the laptop, then closed it. "This is rather slim evidence for a mission parameter," he cautioned. Lifting his sandwich again.
She sighed. "I know. Colonel Sheppard said the same thing, but he hasn't seen the data yet. Besides, we have a better chance of exploring this than his team."
"True...all right." He lowered his sandwich. "I'm not promising anything. Let me take a copy of this to Doctor Weir and see if she is interested."
"Already done." She handed him the flash drive. "Everything is there. Thank you, Evan. I knew you'd be more intrigued. Why don't you eat your sandwich? It's getting cold."
He smirked. "Yeah, I noticed. Thanks. Stop talking now."
She laughed. "Start eating."
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John sat in the conference room, staring at the information scrolling across the data pad. He had called up the files on M1K439. The report was brief. There had been no contacts, no signs of human life or Ancient technology. Just a vast chain of canyons and waterfalls. He recalled them, the sheer beauty of the planet. Pictured Moira among them. Soaking wet, the t-shirt clinging to her, the pants glued along her body. Long hair loose and straggling, dripping with water like it had been on their first mission. The feel of her in his arms. That searing kiss she had given him and he had yet to reciprocate. Waiting and waiting for her foot to heal, for the cast to be removed. Finding the right time, the right place, without anyone interfering.
He tapped his earpiece. "Sargent, has Major Lorne's team returned?"
"Yes, sir. Five minutes ago. Briefing in thirty."
"Thank you." John frowned, debating. Drumming his fingers on the table. He closed the data pad, stood. Resolutely strode out of the room.
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Moira worked steadily in the biology lab, assorting through more data, combing through every file to bolster her argument, Evan's argument to Doctor Weir. The lab's intercom crackled to life with a loud voice. "Doctor O'Meara to the Jumper bay."
She smiled. She closed the laptop, and hastily assembled her gear. She all but ran to the Jumper bay, looked round expectantly. Paused. It appeared deserted. "Evan? Evan, I knew you could do it! You wouldn't believe the trouble I had trying to convince Colonel Sheppard about the importance of this mission! I swear that man is almost blind when it comes to science! I don't know how Doctor McKay puts up with him." Hearing a noise, as if someone had dropped a tool she headed for an open Jumper. "You have no idea how stubborn he is...oh, I suppose you do, come to think of it, from what you've told me. Evan? Where is the rest of the team? I suppose we don't need Thomas."
"I'm not Evan, and it is just us," called a voice from the vehicle. "Oh, and by the way," John continued, walking into view and down the ramp, "what exactly has Lorne told you about my stubbornness? And just how stubborn do you think I am?" he asked, meeting her chagrined
expression.
"John? I..." She laughed, reaching the ship. "Sorry."
"That's better." He smiled. "Get in. We don't need a whole team for a quick recon of that planet. We'll take a spin around, see what's there and then decide how to proceed." At her surprised stare he beckoned her with one hand. "Well? Are you going to stand there all day? It was your idea, remember? You can be so blind when it comes to travel. Come on! Tempus fugit. Time flies," he translated with a grin.
She laughed. "I know what that means, colonel," she teased, followed him into the ship. "I'm just surprised you do."
He closed the hatch, turning to watch her move to the co-pilot's seat. "You'll find I'm full of surprises," he retorted.
"You're certainly full of something," she remarked, causing him to laugh. She dropped her pack onto the floor. "Thank you. Did Evan tell you–"
"No. I somehow managed to make this decision all on my own," he said sarcastically. "Strap in," he advised as he slid smoothly into the pilot's seat.
"Really? Does that pretty head of yours hurt from all that thinking?" she mocked. Her met her gaze, scowled, but smiled as she did. They laughed. "What made you change your mind? And why, like this?" She gestured around the ship.
He tapped his earpiece. "Jumper One, to control. I have a go. Clear the vicinity. Dialing the 'Gate." John's hands moved over the controls. Lifting, then lowering the ship as it hummed to life. He maneuvered into the 'Gateroom while simultaneously dialing the address. The chevrons lit blue one by one. "This way we can cover much more ground more efficiently. And save your foot any unnecessary walking." He watched the KAWOOSH, steered the ship towards the shimmering wormhole.
His practicality vied with his concern and consideration. She touched his arm, drew her hand away as he met her gaze. "Thank you." She turned her head as they entered the wormhole, emerged onto the other side. "Wow."
He smiled. "That was my initial reaction."
*********************************************************************
Elizabeth hurried into the medical bay, Ronon on her heels. She passed the several empty beds, stopped at the one occupied by the stranger. The woman was still unconscious. Her pale face was slack, marred by several tiny cuts. Short blond hair was plastered to her head.
"Elizabeth? I was just about to page you," Carson met her. Glad in surgical garb he had a serious expression on his face.
"Carson. I translated the words. What the villagers were calling her. Cursor luctuousus. Calamitous runner. She's a–"
"I know. That's why I was about to page for you. Rodney detected a flicker of an energy signature on her. Upon scanning I found the source. A tracking device. Like yours, Ronon."
Ronon frowned, eyed the woman. "She's a runner?" He stared hard at the woman, startled by the revelation..
"She was," Rodney corrected, stepping to them. He tapped his data pad. "The tracking device is slightly different from yours. Its emitting a very low pulse. Especially sensitive to Ancient technology." He paused, looked at the woman. "I don't believe it."
"Neither do I. I have never encountered a woman runner," Ronon commented. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, agitated.
"At least we know why the villagers were attacking her," Elizabeth explained. "She must have brought the Wraith to their own doorstep."
"No, no, I didn't mean that! I meant I can't believe we have a hot alien chick in residence and for once Sheppard is off-world," Rodney clarified, sincere. He smiled, but shrugged seeing Elizabeth's disapproving mien. "I'm just saying..." His words trailed into silence.
"I'm going to remove the device. We can save her from a life of hardship and hatred," Carson decided.
"And get a much better look at that device," Rodney agreed.
"Do it. Keep me informed," Elizabeth ordered. Turned. "Ronon, I want you to be here when she wakes up. Out of all of us you have the best understanding of what she's been through."
"Okay." Ronon leaned against a wall. Waited.
"Right. Team to Surgery One. Rodney, you should have that device in thirty minutes."
"Right. Waiting too," Rodney quipped, moving aside as Carson wheeled the bed to the more sterile surgical area.
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Jumper One zoomed out of the event horizon of the Stargate. The 'Gate stood on a precarious cliff. The ground sloped down, then ran flat for several yards until it abruptly dropped. A deep series of canyons were gouged into the rock faces, lush with vegetation. Flowering plants gave vivid colors to the greenery. Pinks. Blues. Reds. Yellows. Waterfalls streamed from several orifices, at different heights. The crescendo of water could almost be heard in the vehicle. Sunlight sparkled violently off the rushing waters.
John flew slowly over the cliff face, then descended several feet. "Those canyons seem to be endless. Covering a good third of the landmass." He brought up the schematics on the HUD. "Some life readings, but nothing comparable to the scale of Pleistocene Park."
She smiled at his own assertion of the planet's name. "It's beautiful."
He flew parallel to one of the canyons, following its twists and turns. "We were going to choose this as an Alpha site, but the terrain is too broken for any prolonged habitation. And we discovered no sign of any settlements. Human or Ancient."
"So no Wraith cullings," she mused. "But the Ancients were here once. The Stargate."
"Yes...whoa." At the corner John veered up, stopped sharply. A massive waterfall blocked their way. The shining curtain of water was a silver blind.
"Whoa," she agreed. "That cave entrance must be fifteen feet across!"
"Twenty point two," John corrected, eying a new set of schematics. "Just wide enough."
"What?" She glanced at him. "You're not seriously considering flying into that waterfall?"
"Anyone else would be crazy to follow us," he countered with a grin. He adjusted the ship's trajectory, flew in at an angle.
Moira smiled as the ship flew into the water. It pattered noisily on the vehicle. The Jumper entered the enormous cave. She gasped, straining forward in her seat as the ship's lights gleamed off crystalline rock formations. "Incredible! Those look like rock crystal–"
"Quartz crystals. And lime deposits. Unusual to be this high from the ground, but hey, alien planet."
"There! The opening!" she needlessly pointed. "It's huge!"
"Yeah, I noticed," he quipped.
She met his gaze, playfully hit his arm. "I just wanted to be sure."
The ship flew smoothly out of the cavern.
"Whoa!" they said at the same time.
The sheer drop past the waterfall revealed yet another canyon. More waterfalls emerged along the rocks, creating patterns of rainbows on the humid air. Mists were rising all around them, making it impossible to see the bottom of the canyon. Impossible to see above them to the higher cliffs. Only glimpses of the blue sky were discernable.
"Down we go." John piloted the Jumper in a descent.
"I wonder who far down those rock formations are," she mused.
"Let's find out. Initializing shielding."
"Wait! Into the water?" she asked, startled. "Under the water?" An emerald pool glimmered in view below them. Grew large. Larger as they neared it.
He laughed. "Yes, Moira. The shielding will hold. Trust me."
The Jumper dropped into the water. A slight bump as the shields took the impact, then the pressure of the slow submergence. Water enveloped them in emerald light.
"It's incredible!" she marveled.
"I know," he agreed proudly. "I always suspected these babies could handle the stress of underwater pressure. Since they can withstand the forces of space travel, not to mention the wormhole travel. We can even extend the shield beyond the Jumper itself if we needed to do so. Zelenka wired every one of the Jumpers with the additional hardware."
"No, not that," she corrected. "Those crystalline formations! They go all the way to the pool's floor. Extraordinary! It's like an underwater cathedral made of glass."
"Oh," said John, disappointed.
Through the emerald green water's clarity the quartz formations glinted like jewels. Schools of fish glimmered brightly. A huge fish swam in front of the viewport. Moira gasped, sat back as one big yellow eye the size of her head blinked at her. John grinned. The fish swam into the distance, uninterested.
"It's...it's almost like a submerged city," she stated, grabbing her camcorder and filming. She nearly pressed the lens to the viewport.
John checked the scanners. "If it was it was purely organic. No energy readings, no technology, Ancient, Wraith, or otherwise. I suppose this could be the nature makes no leap designation, but it is natural."
She lowered the camcorder. "I would think that would be a reference to a life form, not this. Those fish are not new life...at least not unusual life. Or artificial."
John began to raise the ship. "Let's see what's beyond this canyon." As the Jumper emerged a great rush of water exploded, pouring off the ship. "Deactivating shields," he noted. Checked the readings. "I'm detecting a clearing not far from here. Over that ridge."
"I almost hate to leave this place," she softly remarked, watching the rippling wake left by the ship's exit. The waters scattered, spread, as the surface calmed once more. The pool shrank beneath them as the Jumper flew higher, higher.
The ship crested the ridge. A level plain of land ran for several miles. Lush with green vines and ferns, dotted with thickly grown trees. Heavy foliage swayed in the breezes. Tiny ponds sparkled like fallen diamonds. John found a suitable spot, lowered the ship to a smooth landing. "I suppose you'll want to get samples," he suggested.
She smiled, moving out of her seat. "Yes. You must have read my mind."
He followed her out of the Jumper as she opened the hatch. She stepped gingerly onto the ground. Proceeded to the next cliff's edge. It dropped sharply to yet another ravine. The waterfalls were loud, crashing torrents of powerful waves. The sky was a purplish hue, tinged with gold.
Moira wandered among the riot of vegetation. Finding a comparatively dry spot she knelt, touched the spongy mosses and lavish ferns. "You should have brought Doctor Parrish, or Doctor Brown. I'm no botanist but these forms are incredible. I don't think they are megaflora by any means but the rate of growth here must be spectacular."
"Maybe next time. That's not really what I had in mind," he said, watching her. A strong warm breeze blew, sending strands of her ponytail in all directions. He found a comfortable spot, settled and relaxed. The P90 within easy reach. "Moira."
"Look at this, John!" She had moved to another shaded area. The trees towered above her. Their trunks were wrapped in heavy vines, studded with yellow and white flowers. "Flowering plants means insects. I hope there aren't any Iratus bugs here," she teased.
"Hilarious, Moira," he replied, gaze following her every move.
"Can you smell that? The floral pheromones are almost overwhelming!" She sniffed the rush of sweetly fragrant flowers as the wind blew. She moved back into the sunlight, stepping over a small pool. "There's a tiny frog here. So we have amphibians now."
"Sounds like we're moving up the evolutionary scale," he commented. "Moira, come here." He waited, becoming impatient.
She knelt. "John, look! Oh, you won't believe this!" She leaned forward, giving John an enticing view of her rear before she stood, turned. She stepped to him, sat near him. "Look!" She held out a plump, red fruit. "A strawberry!" She sniffed. "A real strawberry." She coyly ran her tongue across it, took a bite.
"Moira? I hope that isn't one of the inhabitants of this planet you're nibbling," he jested, attracted by the glimpse of her tongue, the tilt of her head. The motion of her lips on the fruit.
She almost laughed, squirting juice from the bite. "Hilarious, John! Delicious." She licked her lips. "Exactly like a strawberry," she assured, her lips red from the fruit. She met his warm gaze, playfully asked, "Do you want a taste, colonel?
"I thought you'd never ask, doctor," he replied with a winning smile. He leaned close and brushed his lips across hers, tongue teasingly seeking entrance. "I've been waiting weeks to take a taste," he teased.
"What took you so long?" she challenged softly.
His mouth took hold of hers, exploring, probing as his tongue sought entrance. Sought to guide her soft, yielding lips open. His hand ran up her thigh, her waist, her side to gently grasp a breast. To run his thumb across it, feeling the bra, the nipple reacting to his touch. He moved her onto her back against the ground, mouth still locked with hers. Her hand slid up his arm, fingers pulling at the black sleeve of his t-shirt. His tongue slid into her mouth with teasing determination.
"Well, well. I never thought I'd stumble onto something like this, Colonel Sheppard."
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Carson watched as the woman opened her eyes. Two startling, piercing blue orbs stared at him. She sat up with a groan. Took in her surroundings. Gasped. "It's all right. You're safe. We're here to help you. I'm a doctor. My name is Carson Beckett."
The woman stared at him, shifting in the bed. "Where am I?" The words came slowly.
"On another planet. Not the one you left."
"The mob–" she recalled in horror, bandaged hand flying to her mouth.
"You're safe. No one will hurt you here," Carson assured. "We brought you through the Stargate to safety. Rest now. You've been through a lot, but you are not seriously injured."
The woman laid back, closing her eyes. "Thank you," she muttered, voice falling as she fell into slumber.
Carson crossed the room. "She'll be out for at least another hour. Time enough for me to check her blood work, make sure she's not carrying any unusual pathogens."
"I'll stand watch. Just in case," Ronon offered.
"So will I. Well, while I study the transmitter," Rodney amended, sitting at a nearby table. "It's quite an ingenious design. An upgrade, if you will, from Ronon's model."
"An upgrade? How?" Ronon asked. He glanced back at the woman. Her eyes were closed, face composed in peaceful lines. Curls of blond hair drifted on the pillow.
"Well, for one, it's smaller," Carson explained. "I had a devil of a time removing the wee thing from muscles in her back."
"Yes, yes, but what I meant is that it has a much more sophisticated signal. I've switched if off, but even then I had to deprogram a failsafe mechanism. The strange thing is how it was reacting to Atlantean technology. Almost as if it were collating data."
"You mean it stores data as well as transmits?" Carson asked, alarmed.
"It did. Now it's effectively dead." Rodney thought a moment. "You remember Teyla's necklace? The one that John activated when he touched it? I think the same thing happened when you touched this, Carson. Although it had no time to transmit its location," he hastily added. "I think. No, there was no time between removal and activation for the signal to emit a pulse over any significant distances."
"Rodney," Carson interjected, "are you telling me that this thing was activated by the ATA gene?"
"Yes. But it is definitely of Wraith design, just like Ronon's. Only a newer model. A Mac over a PC, for example."
"I see. I need to check on the blood work," Carson sighed, moved to his own table.
"McKay, is that important?"
The scientist eyed Ronon, shrugged. "Could be. I don't know. Maybe she can tell us when she wakes up again."