"Radek... help me."
They had been at the device for quite some time, Rodney didn't know how long. They had the cover panels off, and Rodney was down on the ground looking at the insides of the device while Zelenka monitored the power readings in the hopes of giving advance warning if a pulse went off ahead of schedule. Rodney had been working through his fears, picking out the different crystals and power conduits, beginning to feel a little more confident as he saw the device looked just how he'd pictured.
But when the time came to actually do something, Rodney froze. He reached for one of the crystals, just managed to touch it, but then pulled back, unable to grasp it. He was too afraid of doing something to make things worse. Too afraid he might cause a pulse to go off, or the device to explode or... or something. He just knew he was afraid of messing up, that was all.
"What is it?" Zelenka asked, barely glancing up from where he was monitoring the power output.
"I... uh... can't... uh..." Rodney gestured helplessly at the device, "I need you to... uh..." he sighed in defeat, unable to even get the words out, "Never mind."
Zelenka grunted slightly, and returned his attention to his job.
That had always been the nature of their relationship. Rodney called the shots, Zelenka did his job, each trusted the other to do their part and didn't bother spending time worrying about what the other man might be doing. That was how it was at the end of the day, after all the insults and the disagreements and fighting. When it came right down to the wire, they each had faith enough to let the other work. That had always been a good thing, but now it was that very trust that was scaring Rodney.
"What's the hold up?" Dorsey asked somewhat gruffly, coming to look over Rodney's shoulder.
He'd obviously overheard the exchange. He might not know about science, but he'd seen and heard fear enough in his line of work to know it when it was right in front of him.
"Nothing," Rodney answered, "I forget what I was doing for a second, I'm fine now."
"Dr. McKay, if you're not up for this..." Dorsey began.
Something about seeing that face of doubt, the expression of bafflement that followed looking at the interior of the device, helped to restore some of Rodney's confidence. He knew these pieces, Dorsey did not. Rodney had always answered anyone questioning his abilities with hostility. Now was no different. He found that getting angry actually made him forget to be scared.
"I said I'm fine," Rodney spat, "And unless you know how to reprogram this thing, I suggest you back off and let me do my job."
Dorsey gave him a look, and then -to Rodney's surprise- backed off. Rodney realized almost immediately that Dorsey had acted to stabilize Rodney's shaking confidence, and had been surprised by how little it took to get him back on track. How often had Sheppard used pushing, insults or even berating to get Rodney to fight with him instead of wrestling with the fear that was ever trying to drown him? Rodney had lost count. Much as he hated to admit it, Rodney knew that he'd time and again done his best work because Sheppard had brought pressure and provided distraction. From the outside it looked like they were fighting, but the both of them had known for some time now that they were doing what was necessary to get the job done.
Well... Sheppard wasn't here this time. And if Rodney didn't get the job done, it was possible he never would be again, even if he happened to survive as Rodney had. The device might break Sheppard. And that, Rodney realized, was something he could not bear. He grabbed onto that different fear, latched onto it with every fiber of his being, and used it to push aside the other.
He had to take the risk of making a mistake, of failing. If he did nothing, the Sheppard he knew would be lost forever. The consequence of doing nothing was too great.
Rodney took a breath and reached into the device. It was surprising how easy it was to take hold of the crystal he wanted and pull it out. Once he had, he sat there staring at it for a long moment. Then he put it down carefully, and retrieved another crystal. Finally, he took the third.
There was a slight whir, and then the device powered down. Rodney saw the internal lights go off, but he waited for Zelenka to confirm that it was dead.
"Power readings are down," Zelenka said, then amended that a moment later, "It's off."
Rodney sighed with relief, closing his eyes briefly. He'd known that was what would happen when he took those crystals out, but he'd been sure he knew what he was doing before. That had been a running theme in what he experienced after the pulse hit. He'd been so sure he knew what to do, that there was only one viable option, and it had always proven to be the wrong thing or else he'd screwed it up time and again with the consequences getting ever more dire until there was nothing left.
"That's it?" Dorsey asked.
"You were expecting fireworks?" Rodney asked sarcastically, looking up at Dorsey.
"No," Dorsey replied dryly, gazing at Rodney through narrowed eyes, "It's just that time is of the essence. If you've neutralized that thing, it's time for me to send someone back to the 'Gate so they can bring Sheppard and the others through."
"Oh," Rodney said, "Yes. Do that."
Rodney and Zelenka watched as Dorsey moved away and quietly addressed one of his men. The man took off at a swift jog in the direction of the Stargate. Rodney turned to Zelenka.
"Well, don't just stand there," Rodney said impatiently, "Get down here and help."
Zelenka rolled his eyes, but laid aside the tablet he'd been using the monitor the power output of the device and got down on his knees next to Rodney so he could look at the interior of the device.
"You think you know how to reprogram this?" Zelenka inquired.
"It's an Ancient computer," Rodney replied curtly, "No matter what it's for, it still uses the same components and essential programming of every other Ancient computer we've encountered."
"We can't even figure out how to use half the computer systems in Atlantis," Zelenka reminded him.
"But we do know how to use the other half, and have managed to integrate our technology with theirs. This is an old, old prototype that doesn't work. How hard could it be to figure out?"
Zelenka opened his mouth as if to say that was just about the most stupid thing he'd ever heard, but then he shut it again without saying anything. Perhaps he realized that Rodney knew the statement was ridiculous, but was trying to bolster their confidence, or perhaps only his own.
"Well," Zelenka said after a moment's contemplation, "Perhaps we should get started. There is not much time."
"Right," Rodney confirmed, looking from Zelenka back to the interior of the device, "Right."
Even though he was trying not to show it, Rodney was afraid that what he'd done already would backfire at any moment. Perhaps the next time he made a move, he'd ruin it. It took him a moment to find his center again, and to remember that doing nothing was not an acceptable option.
"Okay," Rodney said, nodding to himself, "I think that there," he pointed to a spot near the center of the device, "is the important part of this thing's 'brain'. If we plug in there, we should be able to bypass any attempt it might make to block us out. Then we can get a direct look at this thing's code, and see what changes we need to make."
"I thought you already knew that," Zelenka remarked.
"I may have... exaggerated a little to get Carson and Elizabeth to let me come," Rodney admitted.
Zelenka, muttering in Czech, got up and went to retrieve the tablet.
"One day your exaggerations are going to get us all killed," Zelenka said, handing the tablet to Rodney, "You realize that, don't you?"
"Maybe," Rodney replied, leaning into the device and plugging in the tablet, "But not today."
"How can you be so sure?" Zelenka wanted to know.
"Because I have to be," Rodney said, sitting back and waiting for the tablet to realize it was plugged into something, "Because lives are depending on my being right. Lives I happen to care about."
Zelenka sighed and sat down on the ground next to Rodney, and the two of them took in the information the tablet began to display on its screen, telling them exactly what the device was doing. Of course, it was never that easy. The device was free in its sharing of information, but neither Rodney nor Zelenka were able to at first understand the code it was displaying.
"This is extremely complicated," Zelenka observed.
"And unnecessary," Rodney said, pointing to a particular line of code, "See that? That doesn't look like it's even connected to anything. It just exists, like it used to have a function but somebody rewrote the pathway without actually deleting the code," he shook his head, "Sloppy. Very sloppy."
"We both know the Ancients were advanced, not perfect," Zelenka said, "And you did say that this is a prototype. One that does not work."
"It does work," Rodney corrected, "Just... not in the way they meant it to."
"That is breaking hairs," Zelenka told him.
"Splitting," Rodney replied.
"What?"
Rodney shook his head, "Never mind."
They settled into their work, and soon found more important things to squabble over. Namely, Zelenka had a different idea about what each section of code was for than Rodney did. Arguing vehemently before implementing a strategy was their usual method of working, and it typically served them well. However, today Rodney found it more taxing than usual, and felt his resolve wavering.
"Alright!" Rodney exclaimed finally, "Fine. We'll do it your way."
"I do not want to do it my way," Zelenka told him.
"Then why are you arguing with me?" Rodney asked.
"Because I want to do it the right way," Zelenka answered, "Having to defend your position and modify it as weaknesses are identified is a necessary part of the process of identifying and implementing the correct idea. It is not perfect, but it is better than having no process at all. You know this. You are the one who taught me the adversarial method we use."
"So you don't really think your way is the right way?" Rodney asked, "You're just opposing me... for the hell of it?"
"That is not the point," Zelenka said, "And you are well aware that it is not so simple as that," abruptly he asked, "What is wrong with you?"
Rodney started to answer, but his pride managed to get in the way and he said, "Nothing. Nothing. I'm fine. Let's keep going. Where were we? Oh yes, I'm right and you're not."
Zelenka looked at him oddly for a long moment, then consented to pick up where they'd left off.
After they'd been at it a few minutes, a nagging thought started bothering Rodney.
"Did I really teach you the adversarial process?" he asked.
"No," Zelenka replied, "I just thought it would make you feel better."
"Well it did..." Rodney muttered.
"If it helps any," Zelenka ventured, "I know of no one who uses it more consistently -or with greater efficacy- than you do."
"Thanks... I think..."
...There was daylight coming through the branches of the trees overhead. Lorne lay on his back, staring up at the sky, vaguely surprised to discover that he was still alive. He ached all over, though he wasn't sure at present whether that was from spending the night cold and wet, or from being repeatedly hurled to the ground by the pulse from the device.
He rolled onto his side, the beginning of trying to get up, and noticed McKay still lying there. Forgetting about getting up, Lorne dragged himself over to where McKay was. He wasn't shaking as badly as the night before and this time when he checked for a pulse he was able to confirm its absence.
Hearing the sound of footsteps, Lorne rolled onto his back and pulled his M9 from its holster, aiming it and himself at the entrance to the device room that led to the trail that led to the Stargate. A moment later, he lowered the weapon, recognizing Colonel Sheppard.
"Major," Sheppard acknowledged him, then queried, "McKay?"
Lorne shook his head, which said more than the words he couldn't find to say. Sheppard's eyes fell momentarily, then he nodded, letting out a weary sigh.
"I figured as much," Sheppard said, reaching out a hand to help Lorne stand, "When we figured out he'd gone, it didn't take a genius to guess where. When the Stargate activated itself and sent a massive pulse through Atlantis, there was no doubt."
"Did it work?" Lorne asked, accepting the help and getting to his feet.
Sheppard didn't answer immediately.
"Was it too late?" Lorne asked.
"For some," Sheppard replied, and Lorne was reminded what McKay had said about Teyla and Ronon, "Anybody without the ATA gene is dead. The pulse also took out the shield and cloak, as well as giving off enough energy to attract any ships within sensor range."
"So you came to get McKay," Lorne realized, "because you need him to fix it."
"Yeah... well," Sheppard was silent for a painful moment before dragging himself through the rest of his sentence, "It looks like we're on our own on this one."
There were many experts on Ancient technology, many mechanical geniuses on Atlantis. But it was no secret that -in the most dire circumstances- Atlantis depended on McKay and Zelenka. And now they were both dead, and there was nothing anybody could do about it.
"I'm sorry, sir," Lorne said, "It's my fault they're dead. I should've... done something. Been faster, smarter... something," he shook his head miserably.
"Major," Sheppard spoke sternly, then waited for Lorne to look at him before he continued, "The time for wallowing and assigning blame is later. The time for fighting for our lives is now. Is that understood?"
Lorne took a breath and straightened up, "Yes sir. I understand."
"Alright," Sheppard said with a curt nod, "Now let's get back to Atlantis and do what we can to save what's left of her."
"Yes sir," Lorne replied...
...Rodney noticed when Carson arrived with his medical team and their patients, but he made no acknowledgment of them, preoccupied with technical difficulties.
In the time it had taken Carson to get his patients and team ready and out here, Rodney and Zelenka had worked out the changes they needed to make to the code. Unfortunately, the device wasn't accepting the new code for some reason. Rodney was still sitting on the ground, fussing with the interior systems using his tablet, while Zelenka used his own tablet to monitor so that he could tell Rodney if something was working, and hopefully warn him if it was about to backfire.
When they had first run into the problem and decided how they would try to deal with it, Rodney had felt his fear resurfacing. This one setback had shaken him to the core, and he'd wondered if it was perhaps something he'd done wrong. He remembered too well what he'd experienced because of the device, and its not being real didn't seem to matter.
"I'd rather you do the corrections," Rodney had said.
"I wouldn't," Zelenka had replied mildly.
That had been that.
Rodney felt a shudder run through him with each action, and he cringed and waited for Zelenka to tell him that he'd just doomed them all. But that statement never came, only the continual remark that nothing had changed, and that Rodney would have to try something else. That in itself was quite bad enough, because it reminded him that he was running out of time.
Evidently Rodney looked almost as rattled as he felt, because Carson noticed and came to kneel beside him, asking, "Are you alright, Rodney?"
"I'm fine," Rodney replied, not daring to look up, lest Carson see the fear in his eyes.
"Ye're sure?" Carson touched Rodney's shoulder gently, "Ye're sweating."
"Get off me," Rodney snapped, shrugging Carson off, then he offered his friend an apologetic look, "Look, Carson... I'm a little busy right now. You can worry about me when this is over, okay?"
"Alright," Carson nodded his understanding, "I'll leave ye to yer work."
"You do that," Rodney said, turning back to the device.
The break in his concentration slowed him down, but it also broke the strangle hold of fear that had been holding him back. As before, his own irritation had blocked out the fear for a moment. He looked over his shoulder to see Carson retreating and kneeling down next to Sheppard, and used that to remind himself that doing nothing was not an option. Gritting his teeth, Rodney went back to work.
"How about now?" Rodney asked of Zelenka after making an adjustment.
"Nothing."
Rodney scowled at his work, and prodded another crystal, "Now?"
"Ne," Zelenka replied, shaking his head.
Completely into his work now, Rodney didn't even noticed that Zelenka had slipped into his native Czech when responding, a sure sign that Zelenka was feeling the pressure too.
Rodney made another change, and Zelenka let out an excited string of chatter that sounded distinctly like something bad. Rodney undid the change, and Zelenka fell silent. From the outside, it probably looked like Rodney had actually understood Zelenka's words, but it was actually a matter of knowing how the man sounded when he was pleased versus when he was upset. Once deep enough into a project, Zelenka and Rodney tended to communicate almost more in sound effects than anything.
Rodney's next inquiry wasn't even a word, let alone a sentence. He just grunted in a questioning manner, and Zelenka responded in the negative. Rodney sighed, and tried again...
...If Lorne had harbored any hope that perhaps the Wraith hadn't noticed the pulse, it was dashed the moment he and the others returned to Atlantis. The city shuddered from the impact of weapon's fire.
"Major!" Sheppard shouted above the racket, "Get to the jumper bay! Do whatever you have to, just distract those Wraith! Buy us as much time as you can!"
Lorne didn't ask Sheppard what he would be doing. Instead, he responded in the affirmative and ran as best he could to the jumper bay, nearly colliding with other pilots trying to reach puddle jumpers. He actually did slam right into Dr. Beckett, who slipped and nearly fell before Lorne caught him.
"What the hell are you doin' here, Doc?" Lorne asked.
"There's more jumpers than pilots," Beckett answered, "An' I canna be any help with city repairs."
"What about wounded?" Lorne wanted to know.
"There are plenty o' good medical personnel who've never had a flying lesson, son," Beckett assured him, "This is the best way I can help to keep people alive."
"Alright," Lorne said with a nod, "But stay on my wing, okay? Don't go off by yourself."
"D'ye take me fer a fool?" Beckett replied, making his way to an unoccupied jumper.
Lorne shook his head, and made his way to the nearest available jumper.
There were many things Lorne was not well equipped for. It had become sorely apparent to him that he didn't belong on the ground. It seemed like every mission, he was either getting kidnapped or allowing someone else to be captured, or else he or someone he was escorting was being shot or hurt somehow. But there was a good reason for that. Major Lorne was first and foremost a pilot, it was his job to fly, it was what he was best at. It didn't matter that these were alien aircraft, he was just as at ease piloting them as the birds back home. This was what he knew.
Lorne did an improvised roll call to find out who he had with him. If he'd been here the whole time, he would have known, but he'd only just returned to Atlantis. Being out of touch meant he could not be sure who might be alive or dead, down or missing. About half his 'pilots' were like Dr. Beckett, pilots solely because they had the ATA gene and had thus been given a handful of flying lessons.
On the way up to the Wraith ships, Lorne gave them their instructions. He wanted the amateurs to hang back, taking on only the darts that got past the rest or that came right for them. He would lead the others on a concentrated hit and run operation, designed to do as much damage as possible and then cut out before they could be obliterated. They were outnumbered and heavily outgunned.
As they neared their target, Lorne reported in to Sheppard, "We're in visual range, sir."
"Wish I was up there with you," Sheppard replied.
"You've got a city to direct the operations of, sir," Lorne replied, "Besides, if they can get that chair going, you're the one most qualified to run it."
"Yeah, don't I know it," Sheppard said.
"Okay, form up," Lorne told the jumper pilots, "Like I told you."
The pilots acknowledged, and Lorne saw on his screen that the puddle jumpers were beginning to conform to something resembling a line, though really it was more like one line followed by a squiggle.
"Good luck, Major," Sheppard said.