Thanks again for the kind reviews.

Congratulations to Barack Obama and the people of the United States for having the courage to embrace change and strive for something wonderful and new in electing their first African-American president. Let's hope he lives up to his promises.

Chapter eleven

Flynn had been on edge since leaving the major's office, jumping at every shadow and imagining the heavy hand of suspicion about to feel his collar. He half-expected Ronon to be thundering down the corridor after him, if the looks he'd been giving him were anything to go by. The mood the big man had been in, Flynn reckoned he wouldn't stop to listen.

Rational thought raised its mitts in the air and tried to tell him enough was enough and to quit his campaign before he got any deeper in the mire. But it gave up because it had long since parted company with Barry Flynn, having failed to get an unbiased hearing.

Now, his all-encompassing thoughts were of revenge against the man he saw as responsible for his lack of prowess with ancient technology, namely one Carson Beckett. He was sure Beckett had fouled up on the gene transfer, there could be no other rational reason. And if Beckett was such a lousy doctor then Barry Flynn was doing the expedition a huge favour. They'd thank him, in the end.

He found himself striding towards the infirmary, a half-baked notion in his head of dragging the doctor out of the infirmary at gunpoint and wreaking all manner of horrible revenge on the man. The fact that he didn't actually have a gun hadn't registered with his plans.

He was close to the doors when he saw an armed guard standing at attention outside the closed doors. He pondered the marine's presence there for a moment before the horrible truth hit him that he was responsible for the guard's presence. If he hadn't attacked their CO and laid him up in the infirmary there wouldn't have been any need for a guard to be there.

He turned on his heels and stomped off in a random direction, his plans askew. He needed to separate Beckett from the infirmary and most definitely away from armed men. For this, he would need to rethink his plans and find himself a lure.

He heard a voice coming from behind him and ducked into a convenient doorway just in time to hear Dr McKay's irritating whine as he passed.

"No, it can't wait, Conan. When I say I need to see you, I mean now. Put down whichever marine you're currently bashing to a pulp...oh, well, okay so you and Lorne were talking. Time for talking's past. It's time for action now...oh, funny, I don't need to be an action man, that's what I have you and Sheppard for. Meet me in the gate room immediately. We need to work out a plan. Flynn's got some answering to do."

The man being talked about stepped out silently behind the whining scientist and waited until he'd finished talking on his radio before moving closer and bringing the heel of his hand down onto the soft neck in front of him. That would teach the annoying scientist to go talking about people behind their back. Flynn snickered at his own perceived wit.

McKay gave barely a whimper and slipped to the floor in a boneless heap and Flynn scooped him quickly and with some effort over his shoulder before ducking back into the empty room. How this unfit man ever managed to keep up with away teams he'd never guess.

He knew from past experience that McKay would be out for about ten minutes, minutes that gave Flynn time to find something with which to restrain, and most importantly, gag his prisoner.

The last thing he wanted to do was listen to McKay as he complained about his treatment.

He made sure the man wasn't readily visible should anyone else pop into the otherwise unused room and scurried to his own billet. At least if anyone did find McKay there was nothing to point the finger at him.

With heart threatening to burst from his throat he made his way back to the room with a few extras tucked into his pocket, thankfully having encountered no-one. He wanted dearly to be able to call at the armoury and sign out a sidearm but that would raise too many questions when he wasn't actually about to go on a mission...at least not one that was official!

For a crazy moment he thought about going to the colonel's quarters and getting his sidearm but then he told himself he'd have too much difficulty explaining it if he was caught. He could just imagine their faces if he'd said the colonel had asked him to bring him his gun.

'To the infirmary, soldier? Do I LOOK stupid?' he could just imagine Lorne shouting at him.

He'd had to make do with a trip through the mess hall, and grabbed a steak knife. He was winging this as he went.

McKay was starting to stir as he stepped back into the room and before he could properly regain consciousness Flynn gagged and bound him with ruthless efficiency. The ropes were probably tighter than strictly necessary but he was past caring. Speed was of the essence and it was McKay's misfortune that he had happened past when he did.

Any lure would have done but that it was the chief scientist would add even more credence to his request that Beckett attend in person.

He plucked McKay's radio from his head and settled it into position over his own before placing his call.

"Dr Beckett, please respond. This is a medical emergency."

A slight pause caused him to fret before the soft brogue let him know he'd made contact.

"This is Beckett. Who am I talkin' tae?"

"Just one of the marines, doctor, but you need to come quickly. I've found Dr McKay unconscious near the water desalination plant and I'm afraid to move him. I think he might have struck his head."

"Och, what's the ninny done now? Okay, lad, stay with him and dinnae move him, and if he wakens up, keep him still. I'll be there as soon as I can. Beckett out."

Flynn shut off the connection and grinned down at the dazed scientist who was trying to free his hands from behind his back, all the while muttering thickly through the gag.

"Sorry, doc. Can't hang about to play twenty questions. See you around."

He patted the furious man on the head before moving out of the room again, making sure the door closed behind him.

He had no time to waste now that he'd set up his trap. Beckett would be moving towards the plant and he needed to meet him half way to divert him. He was under no illusions that someone else would have overheard the conversation and be aware of where Beckett was headed.

He had no intention of telegraphing just exactly where he was going to take the doctor. The desalination plant had been a handy red herring and would hopefully send searchers in the wrong direction.

00oo00

Ronon paced back and forth in the gate room, creating enough static to power a small city and causing Zelenka's hair to stand on end even more than usual.

The smaller man could give no satisfactory answer as to why McKay was keeping the Satedan waiting and Ronon was rapidly running out of patience, a commodity that he didn't have a huge supply of in the first place.

He tapped his radio and called McKay again, still getting no response.

"Try locating annoying scientist through subdermal transmitter," Zelenka offered helpfully and was relieved to see the big man nod his tussled head.

The Czech wondered for a moment if he should grow his hair into dreadlocks. It would be an interesting look. Perhaps the ladies would like it.

Chuck and Ronon poured over the readings until they had their answer. The signal was static and coming from a location close to the infirmary. As to why Rodney wasn't answering, or even why he'd insisted Ronon made his way immediately and McKay was dilly-dallying, Ronon intended to find out.

The hard way, if necessary. He'd been cautioned against tackling Flynn and he was antsy and ready to haul off and hit someone. If Rodney didn't watch out, it might just be him.

"Found him," Ronon growled as he stepped away from the bank of monitors and Radek grinned at the thought of the upcoming confrontation.

Rodney was one of the most impatient men Radek had ever had the misfortune to work with and if he was about to meet his match the small man just wished he could be there to see it. He wondered idly for a moment what Ronon's reaction would be if he tagged along, but sighed as he realised he'd experiments he was supposed to be supervising, and couldn't leave.

His fertile imagination and what he'd heard the marines refer to as 'scuttlebutt' would have to suffice.

00oo00

Five minutes later all thoughts of what he'd like to do to McKay had evaporated when Ronon burst through the door to discover his team mate bound and gagged and very red in the face.

One of his ubiquitous knives made short work of the ropes cruelly biting into the soft flesh of the other man's wrists and he sliced through the gag to the sounds of suffering.

"Ow, ow, ow! What did I do to that Neanderthal to have him do this to me? Doesn't he know my hands are very important, not to mention my brain? I could have irreparable damage and it's not that long since my own accident."

"McKay, who did it?" Ronon had to shake him to interrupt the flow of words.

Rodney cradled his throbbing hands to him as he looked up through welling tears.

"Flynn, who else? The man's practically a one-man commando squad. You'd better watch out, I think he's after your crown. If he's not causing accidents he's always in the vicinity but this time he's definitely behind assaulting me. I didn't see who hit me but when I came round he was here and he didn't release me."

"Where did he go?"

"Well, naturally he let me in on his Machiavellian plans. How would I know where he's gone? Hopefully for a long walk off the nearest short pier, but somehow I doubt that. Help me up."

Ronon wanted nothing better than to be on the hunt for Flynn but McKay was groggy and his wrists were a mess so he helped the unsteady man to his feet and the short distance to the infirmary. He was relieved to see the marine still on guard at the door and the man spared them both a quizzical look as they passed through.

"Carson, a little help here," McKay called out, only to sigh in frustration when one of the other medics stepped forward to assess him. "Where's Beckett?"

"Not here right now, Dr McKay, but if you want, we can leave your injuries until he returns. Or you can come quietly and not disturb everyone else here and let me see to your wrists. The call's yours."

"Tetchy, much?" McKay moved away, grumbling mightily.

Ronon noted Sheppard stirring. He moved to the bedside and waited for his friend to gather himself together, noting that Sheppard was a better colour after his rest.

"Was that Rodney?"

"Yeah, he had a run in with Flynn who knocked him out and locked him in an empty room. I need to get looking for him and when I find him…"

"I told him..." John left off whatever he was about to say, sighing in frustration. He turned his attention to the simmering volcano in front of him. "You'll do nothing, Ronon. This is a military matter and he'll get his day in court before he gets shipped back to Earth and court-marshalled. It won't do anyone any good if you kill the man, least of all you. Take Lorne and some men and round him up. Lock him in the holding cell until I can talk to him."

John watched as his friend moved off like a black cloud. He knew he had Ronon's full trust and co-operation nowadays but in the early days he wouldn't have been too sure that Flynn wasn't a dead man.

He lay on his bed, worrying at his elusive memories. Something was slowly emerging from the fog; he just needed to give it time. Something about a list he'd been writing. He closed his eyes and tried to picture Flynn's name on a sheet of paper.

Gasping in sudden recognition as his memory came back in glorious technicolour he quite clearly saw his own writing and Flynn's name circled heavily, and beside it he'd queried 'too many co-incidences? Common denominator?' Had he been thinking that Flynn was targeting people who had the gene?

He turned his attention to his other friend who was in the far corner of the infirmary having a light shone in his eyes and someone bathing his wrists.

Moving slowly in a covert attempt to catch the construction workers napping, John eased to a sitting position before sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. Happy to discover that nothing more disconcerting than a mild dizziness assailed him he continued the slide until his feet were planted on the cold floor.

Half expecting a Scottish bellow to be directed his way at any moment he contented himself with nothing more energetic than slithering his feet in the direction of the McKay whine. It was like a homing beacon to lost souls.

"Rodney, what happened?"

Patient and attendants looked up, startled, at the unexpected arrival of another patient.

"Should you be up? You still look like death warmed up." McKay tried to pull his hand out of the nurse's grasp as she delicately picked at rope fibres embedded in his torn flesh.

One of her colleagues wisely planted a seat below Sheppard's ass before it hit the floor and he grinned gratefully at her before turning his attention back to McKay.

"So, fill me in."

"Do you remember who we were discussing before I left here?"

"Yeah…Flynn. Rodney, did I not expressly tell you not to approach him?"

"Yes, yes, ignoring double negatives, but you didn't say anything about him approaching me! I was minding my own business and the next thing I know he's got me tied up and gagged and patting me on the head like I'm his dog."

He yelped at a particularly vigorous tug from the forceps fishing for rope fibres. "Will you be careful?" The nurse glared back at him and he reluctantly set his wrists back onto the trolley before continuing his narrative.

"And then he leaves me to die in some empty room that thankfully Ronon seemed to be able to find and now I'm here and who knows where that madman is. And where's Carson, anyway?"

McKay in full rant was a thing to behold.

John was beginning to wonder the same thing. It wasn't as if the doctor lived in the infirmary and there were perfectly good stand-ins for when he actually got some down time, but something about Beckett's absence was activating John's sixth sense.

Carla chose that moment to come out of the storeroom and notice the small cluster of people, one of whom she knew shouldn't be out of bed, and the other she'd last heard reported as being unconscious on the other side of the city.

"Colonel, what are you doing out of bed?" she scolded, but turned to the second man, knowing better than to expect a sensible answer from the first. "Dr McKay, you made good time getting here, although I'm surprised to see you awake. Is Dr Beckett around, I need to tell him something about Corporal Abbot's bloods."

Both men's response was eyebrow gymnastics and she thought over what she'd just said, looking for an explanation for the display.

"What do you mean, awake? Are you trying to be funny?" Rodney rose to the defensive.

John, however, had been watching the nurse's perplexed expression.

"What do you know about this, Carla?" John spoke softly but determinately, anxious for information but not wanting to scare the young nurse.

She looked around suddenly, seeking the comforting presence of the CMO, and when he didn't materialise she began to worry.

"Is there something wrong, Colonel? Dr Beckett got a call from a marine saying he'd found Dr McKay unconscious at the water desalination plant and the doctor grabbed his bag and ran out. He told us to send a team with a gurney and they left about five minutes after him." She checked her fob watch. "That must have been about fifteen minutes ago which is why I thought you'd made good time. It takes at least that length of time to get to the plant never mind getting back."

Pieces were falling into place like a jigsaw and John didn't care overly much for the picture.

"But I wasn't...I haven't..." Rodney puzzled the situation. He'd been nowhere near the water plant.

"Call the guard in, I need his radio," John interrupted.

He was starting to notice the infirmary blurring but he resolutely refused to give in to weakness now. If his suspicion about Flynn was right, Carson's absence was no accident and John wasn't about to let a paltry thing like a head injury keep him sidelined.

Carla noticed his growing pallor and pushed an emesis bowl under his chin as a precaution. He clutched onto it gratefully, but also hoping he wouldn't need it, whilst waiting for the guard.

He motioned for the man to hand over his radio and fumbled awkwardly with setting it on his head, left-handed, swallowing back the threatening bile as he set the basin down.

"Lorne, this is Sheppard. Respond." A brief pause and Lorne was replying. "Has Ronon met up with you yet?"

"Negative, sir. Is there something I should know?"

"Corporal Flynn's gone dark, Major. I think he's targeting ATA-carriers. I need you to track him down and restrain him. He may or not be heading in the direction of the water plant and keep an eye out for Dr Beckett. It's more than likely Flynn's got to him."

Rodney waved his free hand frantically to attract John's attention.

"Carson has the transmitter..."

John nodded and instantly regretted it, his face paling further. He took a couple of steadying breaths.

"Get them to track Beckett and you'll find them both. He was contacted by Flynn under a false pretext and something tells me the corporal doesn't want to discuss his health care package. Use whatever force is necessary to contain the situation but watch out for friendlies and keep me informed."

"Acknowledged, sir."

That was one of the things John admired about his XO: Lorne wasted no more words than Ronon and was as efficient at his job.

He turned his attention once again to the radio.

"Sheppard to Beckett, respond."

He watched the anxious expressions on the people around him as he waited for a reply. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath and he was aware that he was doing the same thing. Thirty seconds passed and he repeated the hail but to no avail. Wherever Beckett was, either Flynn was blocking his calls or he was no longer in a position to reply.

TBC - reviews, as always, most welcome.