Dark and clammy, the moisture in the corridor hung in the air like a mist. The South Pier had never been fully fixed after Wier's replicators almost sunk the City a few months ago. Thick with coalesced water molecules the dew slobbered on McKay's face. Pulling his collar up - he trotted to the transporter - certain he would catch a cold.

It reminded him of a couple days ago when Atlantis had just splashed down on Earth. Diligently, he rewrote the quarantine subroutines with his laptop but was interrupted by a ping. A flash of white on the screen and a memo that read; URGENT, you are requested to aid the IOA in cataloging the City.

"Oh, great. Why don't I just do everything for the IOA and their greedy needs," puffed McKay.

From the other side of the table, Doctor Radek Zelenka turned his chair and peered up through his glasses. "I just got the same memo, McKay. Everyone is being asked to help."

McKay crossed his arms. "Yeah, well I need to finish these subroutines to ensure Earth is protected from any potential bio-hazards on Atlantis. I don't have time to help them."

Zelenka sighed, "Do what you want Rodney but I suspect, soon, it will not be a request."

Zelenka folded up his laptop, his bar-stool chair spun as he hopped off the seat. McKay stared at the peculiar follicles of the traitor's head as he left the room. McKay pinched the bridge of his nose, smacked his laptop closed and trudged out of the room. Alas, he did not realize he was about to unleash an imprisoned girl.

An electrical buzz - from his headset - tingled his earlobe and pulled him out of his reverence. He knew he was about to receive an incoming communication. "Rodney, come in." It was a husky voice - John Sheppard's - on the other end. Stopping, McKay squeezed his eyes almost closed and did not immediately answer.

"Rodney – are you pouting? Is that why you are not responding to my transmissions?"

No.

McKay made a face then tapped his earpiece. "What earlier transmissions?"

"I've been trying for an hour to get a hold of you."

McKay felt a tingling numbness course through his body. "Oh, I'm sorry. While you tried oh so frantically to reach me, I was working my butt off to figure out the chamber. You know some of us actually take their work seriously. Oh and p.s. I did not see you come to the lab to find me, if you were so worried."

"Hey, I never said I was worried. I figured it was just the water damage in the area affecting the transmission."

McKay slumped against the stony corridor wall. "Yeah, yeah."

John elongated the first word he spoke, "Anyways, how is the research going on the chamber and the girl?"

"Hmm, didn't think you cared since you thought the IOA recruits were more important." McKay crossed his arms.

"You know it is a part of my duty to ensure all new recruits are vetted before they come to Atlantis."

Like a stone statue McKay responded, "Yes, vetted not hand greeted."

"Can we move on? The girl could be a living breathing, albeit teenage, Ancient. If we're lucky."

McKay tapped his foot repeatedly before sucking in a deep breath. Begrudgingly he responded, "Well, from what I can figure the chamber was clearly designed by Janus but without the translation and the girl not talking – I can't tell you much. I am, however, on my way to see Doctor Keller to find out about the girl's physical."

"Can't you just radio her to find out? Shouldn't you be focusing on figuring out the chamber?"

McKay swallowed hard and his thought drifted to his earlier encounter with Mary. "I needed a breather – from the room. I'll get back to it. Hey, if you are done acclimatizing the new IOA recruits why don't you come join me?"

"No can do, Padre. Apparently, Doc Keller wants a satellite medical bay set up in the south pier for all the cataloging going on. Since Doctor Fox is new and does not know her way around, she asked me to help her set it up."

"Oh I bet. What does she look like?"

"Hey, I am always willing to help out a colleague no matter what they look like." There was a long pause and Rodney thought he could hear shuffling come from the other end of the mic. John spoke again in a whisper, "Dark hair, fair skin, blue-grey eyes, mid-twenties – gotta go."

There was a buzz then quiet, McKay knew the transmission disconnected. He rolled his eyes even though no one was around to see. He continued to sulk down the hallway until he found the transporter. The bright map screen stung his eyes. Irritated, he jammed his finger into the map on the screen and promised himself not to forget the conversation.