A/N – Happy St George's Day! Part one of two.
Planet England
"What the hell is this place?!" Rodney yelped, as the deluge of rain he and John had been enduring abruptly dried up to reveal bright sunshine.
"I was about to ask you the same thing," John said, while he spiked up his decidedly limp, wet hair.
They were walking along a well worn gravel footpath that fell away on each side into ditches. Large oak trees surrounded them, but the path soon opened out into rolling fields and meadows with birds tweeting happily in the sunlight.
Rodney grimaced as he squelched along and shook out his arms where his soggy sleeves still clung tightly. "Can we go back now? I'm soaked through. We'll get pneumonia like this."
John shook his head and dislodged some more drops of water.
Rodney rubbed the liquid from his eyebrows and mumbled, "Perhaps we could go back, so you can sort your hair out?"
A slight frown creased John's forehead and he ran his hands through his unruly locks again to make sure the strands were sticking out every which way. He asked, "Are there any energy readings?"
Rodney retrieved his scanner and his eyes widened, "Yes, two. A small one a few hundred metres ahead, and a much larger one several miles away."
"Can you tell what they are from the scanner?"
"Yes," Rodney snarled, "One's the Sugar Plum Fairy and the other's the wand."
"McKay!" John scolded.
Rodney rolled his eyes and corrected, "No. I don't know." He tapped the scanner again. "But we've got company."
A large group of young men appeared on the footpath, all of them had hoods drawn up over their heads. Some had empty bottles and others held bats and knives.
The leader – the one with the biggest knife – stepped up and spoke, "Hand over all your stuff or the old geezer gets it."
A youth grabbed Rodney from behind and placed a broken bottle near his throat. Rodney squeaked in fright, but then his face fell in anger, "Old?"
The grip across his chest tightened and the bottle brushed his neck, leaving a thin trail of blood. John had his gun drawn, but there were just too many of them.
The ringleader piped up again, "You two come here, poncing around with your fancy gear and expect not to be mugged?!"
A loud gunshot nearby startled them all. It hadn't come from John. The youths stood firm for a few seconds until a second shot fired, closer and louder and accompanied by a shouting, "Clear off you lot! Can't have all you lads scaring off our neighbours now!"
The source of the gunshots and shouts came along the path behind the team. It was a man, just a little bit older than those in the group surrounding John and Rodney. The newcomer was wearing a black uniform and he had a gun, but it didn't look like a real one, especially not when he pointed it up in the air and shot out a flare with another loud bang. He held a stick in his other hand, which was half the length of those wielded by the men.
The youths looked at him and then at John, who was still steadily pointing his real gun at them.
The leader's face fell and he addressed his companions, "Bugger this, let's get out of here!"
The group scattered and the one holding Rodney shoved him forwards as he was released. Rodney clutched his neck and winced, but the bleeding had stopped and the cut was shallow.
"And you are?" John asked the newcomer.
"I'm PC Dave. Just a copper doing my bit. But that Asbo Gang… it's nowt but hooligans and layabouts. They'll get what's coming to them. You need to speak with Duke. He's a right top bloke, he'll have you on your way in no time."
Rodney had wrapped a thin gauze bandage around his neck like a bright white ruff and he pointed at the energy signals on his scanner, "Do you know what these are? Preferably in a language we can understand."
"Well, that nearest one is the downed field hopper. Yobs trashed it a few weeks back. The other one… that'll be the dragon. Poor George, it's his turn to try and get rid of it this week, before it takes any more young ladies."
"Field hopper?" Rodney grinned, "Dragon?"
"Yeah, it's got itself a nice hidey hole up in the hills, can't hoick the bloody thing out of there, even with half the gold left in this place or a young beauty."
"You send your people to it?" John asked in shock.
"No, it flaps down to us and nabs them. Only one left now, the Duke's daughter. But she's well locked up, can't go out even to make daisy chains, poor mite."
They reached the 'field hopper' and Rodney's face fell. "It's just a Puddle Jumper."
"Jumper, what, like a pullover? Looks more like a fancy carriage to me."
Rodney walked up to it and John followed and pushed him back before opening the rear hatch and going inside.
Lights came on and the ship powered up at John's gene.
Dave followed them inside and cried in shock, "Cor blimey! What you do to it?"
John grinned back, "We got the power back online. Shall we see if it flies?"
Rodney and John took their usual places in the cockpit and John reached forward for the control sticks and frowned in confusion. He turned to Rodney, who smiled smugly back as he held the control sticks and said, "Looks like I'm driving then?"
John got up and shoved him out of the way. "A right hand drive Jumper? Weird."
The Jumper did fly though, despite the scrawl of graffiti and silly string and eggs all over it. At least, it flew after John stalled it a few times, before finally getting used to the gears. They made quick time back to the village under Dave's slightly misleading, but no less gleeful instruction.
"Plonk it down there," Dave announced, pointing to an open square in the sprawling village before them.
"What about the energy reading? The dragon!" Rodney asked.
"We have to find the Duke first, and then get George."
Several men were prancing around in the square as Rodney, John and Dave exited the ship. They had bells on their legs and jingled their way through intricate synchronised dance sequences to some upbeat accordion music, hitting the sticks they held against those held by their companions. Lots of the villagers were gathered round clapping and shouting them on. But there were no women in sight.
Rodney covered his ears and shouted, "Where's this Duke?"
Dave gestured for them to follow him down the cobbled streets past the rickety housing, to the biggest, ricketiest house of the lot.
"In 'ere," Dave said, leading them through the door into the most atypical manor John or Rodney had ever seen. Suits of armour and painted portraits added to the wooden panel decor. He took them into a study, complete with a feather quill on the desk and wall-to-wall bookshelves holding many consecutively numbered matching tomes.
A servant, in the form of a kindly old lady, approached them and Dave left them in her care. She spoke quietly, "The Duke, bless his soul, will see you shortly, my dears. May I get you something?"
"We're good, thanks," John said.
"Speak for yourself," muttered Rodney. "What have you got?"
"Tea and scones. Or perhaps, you both being such lovely young men, would prefer some nice cucumber sandwiches?"
"That'll do," Rodney said with a broad grin.
Sheppard slapped Rodney's arm.
The woman smiled and left them, bringing back a large tray a few minutes later. Rodney was on his third scone when the Duke came blustering in. He had a large heavy chain around his neck and a fur lined red cape on his shoulders. "Fair ye well travellers. I am the Duke of Dragonforge."
"I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard and the one who ate all your scones is Doctor Rodney McKay," John said. "You're in charge here?"
The man looked a little uncomfortable as he replied in his posh voice, "More or less."
Rodney narrowed his eyes, "What does that mean?"
"Well, the Queen has the final say in all matters. And what, may I ask, brings you to this place?"
"Trade."
"Information and technology," Rodney added. "What's this dragon?"
"Ah, yes. You have been speaking with PC Dave I understand. Well, George is the brave soul who has been volunteered for slaying duty this month. The dastardly creature has taken so many of our fairest young maidens lately we are coming to our wit's end!"
"We'll help," John said.
"What?!" Rodney cried. "No, you can't be serious. We don't even know what it is!"
"Energy reading?"
Rodney lowered his eyes and sighed, "Alright, but George can do it, we'll just help a little bit, perhaps turn it off for future study."
The Duke said, "If you can persuade him to, then I say: tally ho, onwards chaps! Young George has been in the wars lately though, drowning his sorrows in the pub, The Green Dragon, in the village square. Such a terribly fitting name for a time such as this."
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"Yea verily, I sayeth, that I, Sir George, didst smite the mightiest foe of that land!" a man announced loudly the moment John and Rodney entered the dark and dingy smoke hole that was The Green Dragon pub.
"I suppose that's the guy then?" Rodney asked quietly. "What's he going to do, gloat it to death?"
George heard them and came over, weaving a path and grinning unnervingly. "Ah, more noble guests hath come to partake in this most glorious retelling on this solemn day."
John asked, "Solemn? Why, what's wrong?"
"For today, I forsake my life in a heroic, yet hopeless, quest. None have withstood the purging fires of the beast, and I shall surely perish before the sun goeth down. Of all the deeds of my kin, this wilt indeed be the last."
"That's where we come in," John said and grabbed the half empty beer tankard from George's hand.
"Why dost thou taketh the beverage away?"
"You've had enough," Rodney said bluntly.
George's eye blazed in anger and he diverted them to Rodney, who quaked and squeaked, "No no no. It's okay, if you want more, go ahead."
George grabbed the tankard back from John and took a giant gulp. "And what canst two peasants of such lowly stature and upbringing do to prevent my untimely demise?"
Rodney bunched his hands into fists so tight that his knuckles went white. It was only John's warning look and hand on his arm that stayed him. Rodney gritted his teeth and said, "We'll turn off the dragon."
"Turn it off? Thee meanest to slay it before I?!"
John stepped in again, before their new friend found cause to smite Rodney. "What he's trying to say is; be brave and noble and do your thing. Go for the dragon and save all the fair maidens. We know you can do it!"
George straightened up and puffed out his chest. "You speaketh fair words for a peasant."
John grinned back, but his expression was devoid of mirth. Rodney was scowling.
George called out, "Page. Oh, Page."
A smaller man came scurrying out of the shadows. "Sire?"
"Fetch me my steed and armour. I have a dragon to slay."