Stargate Atlantis: Cat's Cradle
"John! John!"
John Sheppard was running. He was always running from one crisis to another, saving the galaxy one way or another. He ignored the summons, shunting off the woman's voice as it penetrated his hearing from his earpiece. He ran. He was jogging through the upper levels of the city. His heavy footfalls echoed loudly, clanging on the metal grids as he worked off energy, frustration and ire and a hundred other tangled emotions to which he couldn't put a name, or wouldn't.
Reaching a dead end he turned, headed back the other way. Sunlight and shadow striped his progress as he hammered the metal grids with his feet. He followed a curvaceous path along the more isolated parts of the city; parts that few even knew existed. He enjoyed the solitude, the quiet. He enjoyed being alone and not at the beck and call of everyone for a change. He descended level by level, choosing the disused back hallways and stairs, eschewing the transporters and more populated areas.
John scowled, stopping as he found himself in the lower levels now. His steps were inevitably heading for the bio labs like they always did, even without being aware. He stood, hands on his hips, catching his breath. Sweat was a slick sheen on his skin, trickling under his gray t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He wiped his brow.
There was no need to go to the bio lab. Not any more, anyway. His sounding board was gone. Moira O'Meara was off world, had been on another planet for a nearly a month now engaged in some scientific expedition. Woolsey had insisted that the science teams should resume their missions. There had been no further movement by the fuglies, no further advances but John knew it was only a matter of time. Reluctantly he had agreed to allowing the science teams out a short leash, a very short leash.
It was time to reel them in, however.
All of them.
"John! John!"
He sighed, cursing, and tapped his earpiece. "What?" he snapped, not caring how he sounded. The city seemed to sense his mood as he lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his scruffy face. A breeze wafted out of nowhere, cooling his skin and drying the sweat that sparkled on his body hair. "Thanks," he mumbled, dropping his shirt to look round the deserted hallway. He strained to listen. He could almost hear a voice, a soft voice trying to speak but instead the voice from his earpiece interrupted again.
"John? Sorry, I was just wondering where you were."
John inwardly grimaced. "Sorry, Ann," he apologized. "Oh…the debrief, right?" He had forgotten all about the meeting. He glanced at his watch. A cool breeze fluttered his messy hair, cooling his brow as he leaned against a wall.
"Yes, the debrief. You've got ten minutes."
"Crap. Thanks, Ann. On my way. Sheppard out." He tapped the earpiece, eying the bio lab. He licked his lips, wondering if it was still stocked with beer. He turned and began to jog, making his way back to the central hub of the city.
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Ann Teldy smiled, turning as she tapped her earpiece. The expression on her lovely face was apologetic as she eyed the people watching her. "Sorry. He's on his way." She took her seat at the table, blue eyes regarding the data pad in front of her. Her blond hair was tied back into an efficient bun, her Atlantis BDUs spotless as always.
"He's always late. It never fails," Rodney McKay noted with a sigh. He fiddled with his own data pad, impatient. He began to drum his fingers on the table but a look from Teyla Emmagan stilled him.
Teyla smiled, amused. She glanced round the room, having no problem with the delay. It gave her more time to enjoy some adult conversation for a change, not that she would ever regret a second spent in her son Torren's company. Still, it was nice to speak to other adults for a change, and she knew that her son was in the very capable hands of his father Kanaan.
Richard Woolsey was busy reading a report, adjusting his glasses. He was used to waiting for the military commander and it didn't trouble him. This was only a meeting, after all, not some new crisis that needed a quick and effective solution. He glanced at Alan Simmons as the man was going over his own report, brows furrowed. The head of biology clearly did not like to be kept waiting, but there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Richard smiled at that.
Rodney sighed loudly, scooting back in his chair. "Well, does anyone have anything to eat?"
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John stood in the shower, head bent backwards as the warm water doused him. It felt good, invigorating after his run through the city, cleansing him of sweat and grime and allowing him to regain his calm composure to focus on matters at hand. He quickly finished and stepped out to grab a towel, grab some clean clothes and take a few minutes to fix his hair before he sprinted out of his quarters to the conference room.
He wished he had had time to grab a beer, but the water bottle was good enough for now.
John entered the conference room and slid into a chair, ignoring the admonishing glances of his friends.
"As I was saying," Richard resumed, glancing at the tardy military commander, "we still don't know enough about these things, these creatures out there. We only know—"
"The fuglies, you mean," John interjected, glancing at the data pad. He touched a key and brought up a different report. "The Homo erectus," he clarified.
"The as yet unidentified possibly human species," Alan corrected with a sniff. "As of yet we haven't been able to conclusively identify the species or even verify that they are human. As I have stated in my report, the—"
"O'Meara did." John's voice was mild as he met the biologist's gaze across the table. Yet there was a weird underlying tension that he couldn't explain.
"Doctor O'Meara's findings, however intriguing are only suppositions at best. We don't have enough evidence to support her theories. The tissue samples have been degraded and what footage there is has been compromised by the—"
"I have everything right here." John tapped his data pad which contained Moira's full report, everything she had discovered about the new species including a startling simulation of their possible evolution. "Besides, isn't that what you scientists do? You decide and debate from observations and the slimmest of evidence to build a working theory and support that theory until proven otherwise. Doctor O'Meara's evidence and proof were pretty damn convincing to me and for now we will act upon her theories about the fuglies until she is proven wrong. I have her complete report and for now this is the one we will utilize in its entirety!"
Everyone was staring and John suddenly realized he was standing, hands on the table, palms planted to either side of the data pad as he glowered at Alan with a fierce intensity. He straightened, retook his seat, sliding his hands off the table to rest on his thighs. "I'm just saying…" he backpedaled, having no idea why he had become so impassioned about defending the absent evolutionary biologist.
"In any event," Richard resumed, "it's about time we did learn more about them. More importantly we need to know what they want and what they are doing here."
"Besides blowing up planets?" Rodney quipped. "I'm just saying…" he echoed his friend.
John didn't smirk. He sat forward, hands now clasped together in front of the data pad where the report was displayed. One of his feet was tapping, tapping on the floor to a beat only he could hear. "You're right. We need to be more proactive and gather more intel."
"Are you suggesting we go out there and introduce ourselves?" Rodney asked, appalled.
"That's exactly what I am suggesting," John concurred. "These things are human and they are capable of language. A language that we probably cannot even begin to understand or evaluate," he postulated, ignoring the glare from Alan.
"Then how would we speak with them?" Teyla asked, puzzled.
"By using the universal language," John said, about to continue when Rodney intervened.
"Mathematics! Of course! Like the Arecibo message! It was broadcast through frequency modulated radio waves compromised of 1679 binary digits but now with our advanced technology we could send even more in a controlled data burst across vaster distances and reduce the binary code to a much more succinct…" He snapped his fingers several times. "We could relay the simplest of greetings without revealing our location, setting up a remote site to send and receive and—"
"That won't work!" Alan interjected.
"What? Of course it will work!" Rodney declared, affronted.
"I mean it won't work because these creatures, whatever they may be are simply not capable of speech as we understand it."
"They are capable of it. Plus, if you hadn't noticed they do have technology that surpasses ours. Did you notice their big honking spaceships? Did you notice their neural implants?" John challenged.
Alan appeared unfazed by the attack. "We don't know if they are capable of speech, of even any kind of approximation of speech like we—"
John glanced at the data pad. "They are, as they have the FOXP2 gene as do all human species and with the two amino acid differences that led to speech in our species as opposed to non-speech in other mammals it is a logical assumption to make that they are, in fact, capable of speech. Just not as we might know it." He glanced at the report again, looked up to see everyone staring at him. "What?"
"While I can't fault your science, colonel, we don't know if those two amino acid differences do exist in that particular gene in this particular species as we don't have enough of a DNA sequence to fully examine the Broca area of the brain to see if the—"
"We can safely assume that it does and we can because they are a species of human. Since this particular gene has been found in other human species such as the Neanderthal why wouldn't it be found in the Homo erectus out here, especially as they have clearly evolved to our level and even beyond?"
"Those are suppositions that cannot be supported by—"
"They have been and they will be, so why don't you get over your own hubris and help us to contact them!" John snapped.
"Colonel!" Richard intervened before Alan could reply. The biologist was sputtering with rage. "We need to examine every aspect of these creatures, including the possibility of speech and contacting them by whatever means if a safe way can be found. I am certain that Doctor Simmons will assist us in every way that he can. Meanwhile we can keep going on missions and try to learn more about the—"
"We do need to send teams, but military ones," John interrupted, his gaze moving off the biologist at last. "We can't rely on our supposed allies or the Coalition or even the Wraith, for that matter."
"And that's why I insisted on the science teams being allowed to engage in extended missions. They will garner more information than the military teams, colonel. We must be seen as friends, not as a threat."
"I disagree. We should be seen as a threat."
"Um, can't you attract more flies with honey than vinegar?" Rodney suggested. "He's got a point, John. The marines can be quite intimidating to the more agrarian communities out here, while scientists are welcomed everywhere." He glanced at Teyla. She was staring, puzzling over the Earth phrase. "I'll explain it later," Rodney offered.
The city lights briefly flickered as if feeling John's displeasure and agreeing with him, a quick staccato of light and darkness. John shut the data pad, his lips pursed together as a palpable wave of anger came and went.
"If we could contact Earth, or even receive word from the Daedalus we would be in a stronger position," Ann suggested. Her gaze was locked on John.
"Yes, but we don't have the power to dial Earth and so far the Daedalus is out of range," Rodney said with a shrug.
"As is that other ship that is shadowing it," John noted dourly.
"If we had a few more ZPMs we could try another dialing sequence. Got any?" Rodney asked.
"If that's what it takes," John muttered, "then we will just go get some."