Ritualization7

Moira sat in the cafeteria, absently eating. Her mind was preoccupied. Still dwelling with wonder on the intensity of the intimacy with John. The vivid erotic coupling. She shifted on the chair, feeling it all over again. Even after a hot shower. Even after changing into a dark blue shirt and pants. Hair trapped in a tight ponytail. She glanced up suddenly. Four men were staring at her, smiling. One in particular was leering over her body.

She looked at her food, confused. Wondered if her blush revealed her thoughts. Thoughts of John. The things he had done. The things he made her feel. Made her do just by wanting them. Suggesting them. She glanced at her shirt. It was clean, not too tight, not too loose. She looked back but the men had turned away from her. Except the one who licked his lips at her. Uncomfortable she drank some water. Looked to see John suddenly there. Setting a tray on the table as he sat across from her.

"What are you thinking, sweetheart?" he asked gently. Began to eat. He had noted the men. How she had relaxed when he had joined her.

Moira smiled at him. "I was thinking of you, John," she admitted. Briefly touched his hand. Drew her fingers from his seeing the men watching. The one pursing his lips together, as if blowing her a kiss. She stared at her food, perplexed.

"Moira? Is something wrong?" John touched her hand, drew her gaze to him. Found the reason he sought. An opening.

"No. I...I'm still..." She smiled as his gaze warmed her. She could feel the undercurrent of anger, like a palpable entity between them. "Still marveling over our time together. Are you angry, John?"

He sighed. Couldn't conceal it from her. "Not with you, sweetheart."

She worried. He never used endearments in public. "John, what is...what is wrong?" Her gaze flitted to the table of men, back to him. The men looking at her, looking away. She pulled her hand from his.

"Why don't you tell me, honey," he suggested. Seeing the distress in her brown eyes even as she tried to hide it.

"Okay, now you're scaring me, John. Are, are you going to break up with me again?"

"What? Of course not, Moira. What has upset you?"

She sighed. Unable to keep it from him. "Nothing. Just, just men...those men looking at me...weirdly. I mean, it's not like they can see my pert little ass," she joked to lighten the mood but he frowned. "I mean, only, only you seem to like to look at it...I mean no one else looks at it."

"I'm sure they do, Moira, but that's not a problem unless it upsets you."

"I...I..." The intensity of his gaze made her stare, falter. "I just meant...I don't know why they are looking at me...no one looks at me...I mean, I mean...and the one is, is almost leering at me...made a creepy kissing motion with his...John? John, no!" She caught his arm as he stood.

"Eat your lunch, sweetheart. I'll be right back."

"John, no, I'm sure it's nothing! Please, don't–"

But he freed his arm, strolled to the table where the four men were assiduously eating. They stopped at his approach. Straightened in their chairs. "Samuels...did you just return from the mainland?" John asked, fully knowing the answer.

"Yes, sir. Peterson's group is due to take the next shift."

"Oh? Well, that order has just been rescinded. You and your team will be returning to the mainland for another stint."

"Sir? They're breaking up the land for plowing and the–"

"Did I ask what your duties were, Baker?"

"No, sir."

"Didn't think so. Report back to the mainland and help the Athosians settle. That's an order. Two weeks should give you plenty of time to cool your heads. Before anything unfortunate is spoken, hmm?" He glanced at each one, especially Jacobs. "I'm sure you've all had a good laugh at my expense, and yes, it was as impressive as you've heard. More so." They shared a quick laugh. John grew still. Solemn. Deadly serious. "If I hear one word, see one look, even suspect one comment directed towards Doctor O'Meara I will consider it my personal business to hunt you down and eliminate the problem." His cold, cold gaze bore into each of them. Lingered on Jacobs. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" the four men said, gulping nervously. Even Jacobs appeared cowed.

"Good." His tone was mild, but there was an acid edge to it. "Finish your lunch ASAP and get to the mainland."

"Yes, sir!" they chorused.

John waited. Watched them hurriedly eat under his stern gaze. He strolled back to Moira, sat. Began to eat his lunch. Noticed her stare. Her glance past him to the men. Then back to him.

"Aren't you hungry, Moira?"

"What did you say? John...you...look, the whole macho thing is quite sexy and all but you didn't have to say anything just because they were, were staring at me. I mean, it's not that big a deal. Unless...unless...John...is there more? What–"

"Eat your lunch, Moira," he advised.

"John, tell me. What's going on? It must be more. It must be something else to make you so, so angry. Tell me," she insisted. Tensing with anxiety.

"No."

"John! Tell me!"

"Here." Rodney joined them, sitting next to Moira. "I've calibrated the pixels and used a photosensitive digital enhancing program to–"

"So you've cleared it up," John translated. "Good. Thanks." He took the data screen, stared at it.

"It's just a gun lying on the ground. I fail to see the significance anyway. Since there were no energy scans on the planet it's more than likely a simple agrarian society. Are you going to eat that?" He pointed at Moira's plate.

Moira looked at him, smiled. "No. You can have the other half, Rodney. I'm not that hungry." She pushed her plate to him. He proceeded to devour the untouched half of the sandwich.

John glanced at them, smiled. Then eyed the screen. "This may be...significant."

"A gun?" Rodney questioned.

"Not just any gun. The same kind of weapon we encountered on M1M398."

"Hoth?" Moira asked.

John smiled at her. "Yes."

"Those nineteen twenty types of ordnance?" she asked.

"Yes."

"The nineteen twenties? What are you talking about?" Rodney wondered.

"That was it!" Moira exclaimed. "John! We have to go to that planet! The one Evan just visited. I saw something in the footage he filmed for me. I can show you on there." She snatched the data screen, accessing the entire file. "It's a significant discovery! If it proves to be a true thylacine and not just some aberration or distortion!"

"A what?" Rodney asked. "Another prehistoric animal?"

"No." Moira met his gaze, turning the screen so John could see. "That's what is so intriguing!" she enthused. "It could be an actual thylacine! A Tasmanian wolf, a massive predator that went extinct in nineteen thirty-six! If these animals are here, if there's a thriving, breeding population we could restore them back on Earth! Think of the possibilities! All of the modern mammals we could reseed from extinction to–"

"Well, that's slightly more interesting than a gun," Rodney quipped. "Slightly."

"Rodney!" Moira scolded. "This is big! Huge! A marsupial predator that was killed off by man's greed and arrogance! If they exist here we could establish a new population!"

John smiled, attracted by her enthusiasm. The sparkle in her eyes. The passion now directed at him. "We'll have to discuss this further, Moira. You'll need to walk me through this footage." He closed the data pad. "I need to do some additional research on this gun anyway, to be certain."

"Certain? Of what? That it's a gun? You can't tell?"

"Ha ha, Rodney. Moira, are you finished?"

"Yes."

"Let's go. We need to compare notes." He stood. He led her to the line of food. Grabbed a beer, a pink lemonade. A huge slice of cake. Two forks. "Dessert," he explained, balancing it all on the data pad.

Moira smiled. Followed him, curious. "John, why is that gun significant? Because of its origins? Oh! Oh, the technological advances? The society must have progressed up to–"

"Partially. Wait until we're alone," he advised. Paused outside her door. Raised a brow as she hesitated, eyed him. Eyed the cake. After a moment she opened the door, entered. He followed, wondering at her reluctance. But he kept silent, watched her move to the table. Instead he moved to the bed, sat. Set the data pad down. Opened his beer and took a long swallow.

Moira cleared a space, turned. Frowned. "John! Don't get crumbs on my bed!"

He laughed. "Please, Moira. I've gotten a lot worse on your bed than cake crumbs."

She sighed. "Don't be gross, John!"

He laughed. "Sorry. Come here."

She hesitated again. But sat next to him. Took the lemonade and drank. He grabbed a fork, began to eat the cake. She took the other fork, joined him. "Mmm...this is good. Chocolate and vanilla."

"Yeah. I thought you'd be hungry, baby."

"Sweetie, behave." She watched him down more beer. "Are you going to get drunk?"

He smiled. "On one beer? Hardly. I won't even get a buzz off this. You, on the other hand...want a sip?"

"No, thank you." She drank her lemonade.

John licked his lips. Let her gaze wander around the room. He stared at a snow globe that was new to him. The glass dome contained a flower. A red and orange rose, frozen in full bloom but appearing as if it had just been picked. Petals unfurled, curling slightly. A few drops of water like hard diamonds glittering when the light caught them. He recognized the flower. "Hey. Is that...is that the one I gave you? The crushed one?"

Moira chewed her cake. Followed his gaze to the knickknack on the shelf. She swallowed. Oddly nervous. "Um...yes. I...yes. John...you were...that is...that was so romantic."

He met her gaze. Shrugged off the sentiment. "Whatever. I mean, I just...you...you...anyway," he set the plates and utensils aside. Finished his beer as she finished her lemonade. "Take a look at this, Moira." He set the pad on his lap, opened it. Brought up the image. "I'm going to compare it to the actual pistols of the time period on Earth." He opened more windows on the screen. "See this? It's an early automatic, the ancestor of our P90. But not nearly as sophisticated. Note the lower firing power, the old-fashioned feed of bullets in a..." he paused a she scooted closer to him. Rested her head on his shoulder. "Boring you, am I?"

She smiled. "No. Well, a little. Can we skip the details, colonel?"

"No. The point is in the details, doctor. Look." He brought up the gun. "This one," he pointed, "is from Earth. A Smith Wesson twenty-two caliber with the engraved handle. Preferred by mobsters everywhere. In the nineteen twenties. Now look at the one Lorne spotted on that planet."

Moira looked at them. "They look the same."

"No. They are the same. Identical. Down to the little details. Can you explain that? I can see a society progressing to that level of technological development under the shadow of the Wraith. But so far when they do their weaponry incorporates more sophisticated touches. Lasers or sights or is made differently. Different materials. I might be wrong here but this is identical. Like it came from Earth, circa nineteen twenty-two or so."

"Hmm. What does that mean?"

"Hell if I know. But it could be important, Moira. It's right in front of me but I can't see it." He drummed his fingers on his thigh.

Moira raised her head. "All right, you've got something there, John. But let me show you this." She scooted closer, thigh pressing his. Fingers crossing the pad to change the window, the screen, the data. She smiled. "Am I pushing your buttons, sweetie?" she teased.

He smiled. "All the damn time, baby." He kissed her throat. Ran his hand to her back.

"Look. At the screen," she specified as his gaze was wandering along her body. "This is the footage Evan gave me. Look! That animal running across the background. Here." She tapped the pad. "I had Zelenka bring it up closer. Look! That, if I'm not mistaken is a real life thylacine! They went extinct in nineteen thirty-six, the last one dying in captivity." She paused, frowning. "Hunted to extinction. The only marsupial canine and it could still exist here!"

"Interesting...but there's the question again. When was it brought here? How far back did the Ancients go?"

"Marsupials? They are primitive mammals but thrived in the Pleistocene. The incredible thing is that while most of the prehistoric mammals died out before our own present era, or were killed off by humans the thylacine survived until nineteen thirty-six. And now, now if they exist on that planet..." She faltered as his fingers slipped under her shirt to caress his bare back. Slid down into her pants. "John? I don't think you see the significance of–"

"You are so sexy when you talk like a scientist, baby. It turns me on," he teased.

She laughed, closed the data pad. "Yeah, right, your eyes weren't glazing over at all," she chided. "And when you talk all guns and ammo it makes me want you, sweetie."

"Good." He kissed her, turning her face to his. He took the data pad, placed it on the floor as he smoothly moved her back against the bed. Kissing her slowly, deliberately prolonging each motion. Each movement.

"John?" she asked, gently pushing him. She winced.

"Moira? Did I–"

"No. It's not you. My foot. Sore." He sat. She scooted free, sat to slip off her shoe. Brought her foot up to clasp it. "It's been cramping. Must be the weather, I guess. No, not like that subsonic pulse, don't you worry," she answered his unasked question.

"Have you seen Carson about it?" he asked, gaze on her foot now.

"No. It's nothing. Just gets bad now and then."

"Here. Gimme." He gestured.

She hesitated. Turned to face him. Slid her foot to his lap. He took it, began to remove the blue sock. "No, John! It's more, more sensitive...leave the sock."

He raised a brow. "I've seen the scars, sweetheart." Nevertheless he acquiesced. Began to massage her foot. She winced as pain flared, then relaxed as he gentled his grasp. Flexing the muscles with his fingers. He could feel the scars even through the fabric. He laughed suddenly.

"What? What's funny?" she asked. Nervous.

"I was just remembering. You had your socks on the entire time we were having sex. I think that's funny," he explained with a smile.

She smiled. "Oh, do you? At least it's not kinky."

He laughed. "Could be, baby. Only if you had on knee-high Argyll socks and a tiny, tiny schoolgirl skirt that barely covered your pert little ass."

"John!" He laughed again. She smacked his arm. "Sorry, sweetie, I didn't bring a skirt to this galaxy. A schoolgirl? Now you want to roleplay? The schoolgirl and the colonel?"

He grinned. "Yeah, baby. The analytical scientist and the rough and ready soldier...oh wait. We do that one already."

She laughed. "Behave, John. Or I may have to tie you to the bed."

He sighed. "So you keep promising, Moira, but you haven't done it yet." He leaned close, kissed her. "Better?"

"Yes. Thank you." She moved his hands off her foot. "I, I suppose you have to go now." She stood, crossed to the table. "I'll do some more research on the thylacine. But I've run several comparisons and I'm sure that the animal Evan filmed is a thylacine! And you, you've run several comparisons about that gun, right? John...you'll be planning a mission, right?" At his silence she turned to the bed. "John?"

He was stretched out on the bed, watching her. "I've got nowhere to go, Moira. Right now. So...I think I'll stay here. If that's all right with you. Tell me about the rose."

"What?" Moira stared, wondering what he was doing. She glanced at the rose under glass, back to him. He was still watching her. Expression calm. Voice mild. Long body reclining on her bed, but his knees were bent, feet still on the floor. "The rose? I..." She bit her lower lip a moment. "I wanted to keep it."

"I can see that, sweetheart. So...how?" he asked, keeping her in the innocuous topic. At the same time trying to lure her to him.

"I...you really want to know? I...um...Rodney."

"Rodney?" he prompted. "But he was with me on that mission."

"Yes. No. I mean, it was his idea. I mean he devised a way to save viable samples like that and keep them in a pristine condition for further analysis. Not that the rose is a viable sample and I am not going to analyze it or anything but I asked Zelenka and he used the formula to permanently freeze the rose to preserve it forever under glass John why am I babbling again I'm suddenly so nervous since we're alone and after that, that sex and stuff and oh hell."

Moira moved to the bed. She slid over him. Kissing him. Unable to resist, unable to keep away from him. Sweet, savoring kisses. John's arms slid around her. Fingers stroking her back, her hair. Freeing it from the ponytail as she nibbled his lower lip, gently sucked at it. Soft noises in her throat arousing him. She scooted up to see his face. "I...um...I..."

"Whatever you desire, sweetheart. It's all right. We don't need to be that intense every time," he soothed. He scooted them up to the pillows. She moved off him to pull something off the table, conceal it in her hand as she sat near him. Relaxed by his words. Debating. Finally came to a decision. "John...how much time do we have to be together?"

"I'll just need an hour to go over the mission specs. Why?"

"Is this really what you want, colonel?" she teased into his ear. Kissed him again. Opened her hand to reveal two long black ribbons.

"Moira?" he asked, surprised. Delighted.