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Day 4 - Tuesday

Lorne stretched the aches and kinks from his back and shoulders as he walked along the corridor towards the transporter. Baker had woken briefly during the night and after blinking owlishly at Meeks and Parrish playing a game of Scrabble using his legs as a table, Baker had promptly fallen back asleep.

Carson had made a sudden re-appearance just before midnight and after confirming that Baker would be released sometime the next day had shooed them out of the infirmary and back to their own quarters for the rest of the night.

Lorne had managed a couple of hours sleep before being woken by Peterson, the night-shift Control Room tech informing him of an escalating row between two military personnel in the Mess and had been unable to reach the night-shift officer. With the Colonel off world on a trade negotiation mission, it fell to Lorne to intervene.

The row ended the instant Lorne had stepped into the Mess and with a sharp, short reprimand Lorne had ordered them to report to him at oh eight hundred for punishment detail.

He was now on the hunt for the wayward night-shift officer, Lieutenant Sheen. Radio calls had gone unanswered and Lorne didn't want to put out a citywide announcement so early in the morning, particularly as he had a good idea where the young Lieutenant was. The kid was heading for a long, slow trip back to Earth, Lorne thought to himself as he stepped into the transporter, and pressed the destination screen. He lent back against the wall with a yawn, wondering if he would be able to catch another hour or two of sleep before breakfast.

The transporter doors opened and Lorne pushed away from the wall, to be met by a flood of water that quickly filled the small space, he felt a surge of panic as the water level rose, letting out a heavy breath when it leveled out at mid-thigh height.

The only illumination came from the transporter; everything beyond the doors was in complete darkness. Lorne looked down at the water lapping around his legs; even in the light, it looked dark and menacing. Lorne felt panic start to rise again and hit the destination screen to return him to the main part of the city. As soon as he hit the screen, the shutdown panel slid down, covering the screen and the lights in the transporter flickered once and then went out, plunging Lorne into darkness.

"Crap!"

**********

"Doctor Zelenka?" Peterson said into his radio, "I've received several reports of malfunctioning transporters in the last ten minutes."

"Explain malfunctioning."

"The transporters have been going to the wrong destinations," Peterson reported, he heard Zelenka sigh.

"Again? Take them offline. I am coming to Control Room now."

"Transporters offline, Doctor," Peterson confirmed.

***********

"Damn it," Lorne snapped out, letting his hand drop from his radio, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He had been forced to leave the relative safety of the transporter, the swirling dark water was bone-numbing cold and his calls to the control room had remained unanswered. There had been no other option but to try to find another way out. The lack of response from his radio calls worried him, scenarios rushed through his mind, each one rejected in turn, until only one was left. The transporter had malfunctioned somehow, dumping him in an unexplored part of the city, probably somewhere near the damaged west pier. What worried him most was that wherever he was, it was shielded in some way. It would explain why the radio wasn't transmitting, but it would also mean that he couldn't be tracked by his subcutaneous transmitter, or the city's life sign detector.

For now, he was on his own.

He carried on walking, keeping close to the wall, hoping to find the entrance to a stairwell. The cold water was already leaching the heat from his body, his legs slowly going numb. He kept one hand on the wall; he could see nothing in the oppressive darkness and cursed himself again for not grabbing his gun belt and weapon when he had received the call from Peterson. He would have the added benefit of his flashlight and knife as well.

He paused for a moment, listening, there was no sound, except for his own quiet breathing.

He continued on.

********

Baker grinned when he saw Meeks stride into the infirmary, Parrish only a few steps behind, the escape committee had arrived.

His grinned dipped as he noticed Meeks expressionless face, even his eyes seemed devoid of emotion. Meeks was a gregarious man by nature, friendly and welcoming, but as hard as nails if provoked, or full of his beloved Newcastle Brown Ale. Baker had never seen Meeks so emotionless before. Baker was already frowning when his attention turned to Parrish, the complete opposite to Meeks, the man's entire being vibrated with a myriad of emotions, worry, concern, frustration and Baker knew it wasn't directed at him. He had already flung the covers back and slid out of bed by the time Meeks and Parrish reached him.

"The Major's missing," Meeks stated the second he was face to face with Baker.

"Missing?" Baker repeated, knowing that he sounded like the proverbial parrot, but unable to stop the word from slipping out.

"Since about four thirty this morning," Parrish added, his fingers drumming against his thighs.

Baker looked at his watch; it was oh nine hundred hours. "I take it you've radioed him, checked his quarters?"

Meeks nodded. "Repeatedly. Didn't think anything of it when he didn't show at breakfast. We're not on duty till fourteen hundred, thought he was catching a few zeds."

Baker looked at his watch again. "Life signs?"

Parrish shook his head. "Except for telling us there is no one in the Major's quarters, and that everyone is inside the safe zone, it's pretty useless."

"Why do you think he's missing?" Baker asked. "His radio could be faulty. He could be anywhere in the city, the life ...."

"Statler and Waldorf were outside the Major's office this morning," Meeks interrupted, as if it explained everything.

"Statler and Waldorf?" Baker asked with a puzzled frown.

"The old guys? From the Muppets? Sit in the balcony?" Parrish queried.

"Sergeants Farmarzi and McIntyre," Meeks clarified.

Baker bought his hands up and rubbed at his temples, wondering just for a moment if he was in fact, having some bizarre drug induced dream or hallucination.

"We don't have time for this," Parrish said, and Baker wholeheartedly agreed with him.

"Okay, from the top. Why do you think Major Lorne is missing?" Baker asked. "Meeks, you first."

"The Major arranged to meet us for breakfast, when he didn't show, we weren't too concerned," Meeks replied. "I was on my way to the armory when I saw Statler ... Sergeants Farmarzi and McIntyre outside the Major's office ..."

"Peterson had to call out Lorne to deal with them," Parrish interrupted, fidgeting from foot to foot.

"At about oh four hundred," Meeks confirmed. "Told them to report to his office at oh eight hundred for punishment detail."

That's when Baker's stomach starting to churn and the certain knowledge that something was very wrong started to creep up his spine. The Major was many things; good and bad, but of the things he was highly respected for was his promptness and diligence. The Major never kept anyone waiting, particularly those waiting punishment detail.

"We need to report to Colonel Sheppard," Baker said, as he started to walk out of the infirmary.

"The Colonel and his team are off-world," Meeks replied, falling into step with Baker, Parrish following behind.

"Doctor Weir it is then," Baker stated, seemingly unaware that he was only dressed in white scrubs.

********

Lorne continued his slow trek, cautiously sliding his feet forward to make sure his path was clear before taking a step, his hand never leaving the wall. He had set himself a fast pace after leaving the transporter, which had come to an abrupt halt when he had tripped over some unseen debris and had fallen. The sound of his frantic splashing muted under the water, the darkness even more constrictive and claustrophobic. Lorne had nearly succumbed to the panic that was fighting to free itself, before managing to get his feet under him and break the surface of the water with a loud intake of air. He had waved his arms frantically in front of him, twisting and turning in the pitch black, as he sought the safety of the wall. It was sometime before he started to move forward again.

Lorne took another careful step and then another.

When he was a child, he and his cousin Petey would walk around with their eyes closed, hands held out in front of them, trying to negotiate the many obstacles of their grandfather's garden, which usually ended with bruised shins and an occasional bloody nose.

Their grandfather had been a navigator in a B-17 Flying Fortress during the Second World War. The old man had considered himself lucky to survive the horror of war, even though the last thing he ever saw was the green, brown and gold patchwork of English fields, as the broken plane hurtled past them, descending at an alarming rate until it ran out of air and crashed into a field of green. Equipment sparking and exploding, sending shards of red hot metal hurtling into the confines of the plane, tearing flesh and blinding eyes, sending their grandfather into a never-ending world of darkness, two days shy of his twentieth birthday.

Lorne and Petey had been in awe of their grandfather, the man moved with such confidence and grace, never faltering, never hesitant. Even knowing when the boys were in the same room as himself, though they had sneaked in, quiet as mice, still as statues. It had seemed like magic to two young boys. As Lorne grew older, he understood more about his grandfather's condition, and youthful awe turned into respect and admiration. He felt like that foolish child now, moving slowing, feeling his way, fearful of hitting something or falling, surrounded by inky blackness. This time though, Lorne knew he had his eyes wide open.

He took another step, and then another, unaware that the wound on his leg from the previous day had re-opened, slowly soaking blood into his pant leg, washed away by the lapping water at his thighs.

******

Elizabeth Weir was a patient woman, calm in a crisis, not given to emotional outbursts, or prone to lashing out physically or verbally. Unlike, the seemingly mild-mannered, Doctor Parrish, who was currently trying to strangle the life out of Lieutenant Sheen. Such was the doctor's fury that Sergeant Meeks and the formidable Lieutenant Baker were having trouble dragging the man off the beleaguered Sheen. Their pleas for him to stand down going unheeded, resulting in Baker wrapping his massive arms around the slender scientist's waist, as Meeks slowly peeled Parrish's fingers from Sheen's neck.

As soon as Sheen was freed, he scrambled away from the enraged doctor, who, although securely held by Baker, still valiantly tried to stomp the young Lieutenant, even though he was well out of range.

Baker gave him a rough shake. "Parrish," he snapped. "Calm down." He received a heel to his shin.

"Doctor Parrish, that's enough," Elizabeth said firmly, moving to stand in front of the scientist. "This isn't what Major Lorne would want. David, please," she said softly. "This isn't helping us find him."

Parrish stopped struggling, mortification turning his face even redder. Baker loosened his grip, placing a hand on Parrish's shoulder in support and comfort and just in case the man went off on one again.

"Doctor Weir, I'm ...I'm so sorry, I ...I," Parrish apologized, stumbling to a halt.

"Lieutenant Sheen, are you alright?" Elizabeth asked, making sure to keep herself in-between Sheen and Parrish.

"Yes, Ma'am," the Lieutenant replied, getting to his feet. No one helped him.

"I think it would be best if Doctor Beckett took a look," Elizabeth advised kindly. "Just in case."

With another "Yes, Ma'am" the Lieutenant left the control room, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

"I know everyone is very worried about Major Lorne and frustrated by our lack of progress," Elizabeth said, addressing the entire room. "But I will not tolerate any more acts of violence. We need to work together to find the Major. He would not want this," she said, the last comment addressed to Parrish. "Doctor Parrish, I can't allow such an act to go unpunished, I understand ..."

"But he abandoned his post," Parrish all but yelled. "If he hadn't Lorne would ... eek!" Parrish squeaked as Baker squeezed his shoulder.

"Doctor Weir was talking," Baker said quietly.

Parrish's face reddened again, as he lowered his eyes to look at the floor.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Baker," Elizabeth said with a small smile. "Colonel Sheppard and I will be discussing Lieutenant Sheen's recent actions and what punishment is necessary, it is not for you to decide," she said firmly. "I will be reviewing your actions with Doctor McKay," she warned.

Elizabeth knew she had to act fast. The Major had been missing for several hours and everything they tried had ended in failure and frustration. Citywide calls had remained unanswered; all the life-signs on the Ancient screen had been accounted for. Radek had widened the sensor range, all to no avail. There was no sign of Lorne's subcutaneous tracker signal anywhere.

As the news spread that Lorne was missing, the military contingent had started to become restless, needing answers, wanting action. A heavy tension had descended over the city. Major Lorne was a popular leader, friendly and fair regardless of rank or nationality, who lead by example but had a core of steel few ever saw. Elizabeth sent out search parties, more to give people something to do, then with any real hope of finding the Major, with a city the size of Manhattan to search and much of it unexplored, it could take days, if not weeks to search it all. Elizabeth wasn't certain Lorne had that much time.

"Doctor Weir?" Radek said quietly, "I have an idea."

Elizabeth nodded at Radek to continue.

"We know that Major Lorne had dealt with an argument in the Mess and we have assumed that he was trying to locate Lieutenant Shane ..."

"Sheen," Parrish corrected with a growl.

"Yes, yes, "Radek said, annoyed at the interruption, "who was not answering his radio calls..."

"Radek, we know this," Elizabeth said, trying to keep the weariness from her voice. "Lorne disappeared whilst searching for the Lieutenant."

"Who said he was with Doctor Lex, in her quarters," Radek paused for a moment, when everyone continued to look at him expectantly he rolled his eyes. "Transporter! Major Lorne would have taken a transporter from the Mess to the living quarters."

"But you took the transporter system off-line," Elizabeth said.

"Yes, yes, at four thirty am."

"So the transporter took him some place other than his intended destination?" Parrish queried.

"Yes," Radek smiled.

"So where is he?" Meeks asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Radek replied. "But, the transporters were only down for about ten minutes. It was an easy fix..."

"So the Major is lost in the transporter matrix, or something?" Meeks questioned with a look of horror.

"No," Radek snapped. "The transporters have a safety feature, so that if you ..." Radek trailed off as he noticed the impatient looks. "That's not important right now. The transporter that Lorne ended up at, did not come back on-line with the others, or was already faulty."

"So the Major's trapped inside a transporter somewhere?" Baker asked.

"No," Radek said again. "Well, yes. Possibly. If the doors failed to open."

"Even if the Major is trapped inside a transporter, we should still see his life-sign," Elizabeth argued.

"Not if he is in part of the city that has sensor damage," Radek replied. "Rodney and I believe that at least .... not important now. However, his radio and subcutaneous tracker would still work. He is therefore, in a part of the city that has been shielded." Radek explained.

"Shielded? What part of the city is shielded?" Elizabeth asked with alarm.

"Oh, I don't know. It is difficult to distinguish the areas where the sensors have been damaged to those that maybe shielded. Rodney and I believe the Ancients shielded some parts of the city, certain labs that may have dealt with sub-space experimentation or possibly meeting places, it is all guess work right now," Radek said. "But although the shielding would stop radio waves and sub-space signals, the life-signs sensors would have worked."

"So, Major Lorne is possibly trapped in a transporter, in a shielded part of the city, that is also a life-sign sensor black spot," Elizabeth summarized.

"Yes," Radek nodded, bouncing on his feet.

"And this helps us, how?" she asked.

"We send out search parties in the transporters, to every destination. If they arrive at their destination, they come back, if they don't arrive ...." he trailed off.

"The transporters broken and that's where the Major is," Baker said, with a smile.

Raked smiled and nodded.

"Doctor Zelenka, you're a bloody genius!" Meeks grinned.

"I have said same thing many times," Radek replied. "Please put in writing to Doctor McKay, yes?"

*******

Tremors shook Lorne as his body battled against the cold. He gritted his teeth as he took another step, his legs numb with the cold. He had found several doorways during his long trek, some already wide open, others with gaps just wide enough for him to squeeze though. He had gone through each one in the hope of finding a stairwell. Several had led nowhere, they were small labs or rooms of some sort, others had led to what he assumed were more corridors.

Lorne knew he had to get out of the water soon, hypothermia was setting in and time was running out. All sense of direction was gone; the level was still in complete darkness, and completely silent.

Dark thoughts ran though his mind, the hope of being found and rescued growing dimmer and dimmer. The belief that the next footstep would take him out of the shielded area and he would become visible to the sensors, that is radio would work was getting harder to hold onto. His exhausted mind started to doubt that he had even been missed, that no one was looking, that no one cared.

Lorne was so lost in his dark thoughts; he failed to hear the splash of water behind, the sound of rippling water, growing louder, closer.