A residential area somewhere in Colorado. Nothing to report until an explosion destroyed the room on the first floor of a house.
Rodney McKay's.
Rodney and Philip Rossberg entered the room cautiously, using torches to see the inside. Rodney had turned this place into a personal lab. It was now completely a mess because of the smoke and the dust, the window belonged to the past, and all the equipment couldn't be used anymore. Rossberg agitated his right hand in front of his face to get air and a better field of vision. "We're in trouble..." he sighed when he saw the mess.
"No, we're not," McKay assured, to stay positive.
Rossberg gave McKay a very skeptical look.
xxxxx
"You blew up your own house and you say that it was just an experiment?"
The sergeant wearing the CSPD uniform stared at McKay, suspicious. The former Warren Horizons scientist was standing in a cell, hands holding the bars. His unfortunate companion was sitting on the bed in the back of the adjacent cell. He was ashamed and pessimistic.
"To be exact, I didn't blow up my house. Just a room," Rodney rectified and earned an eyebrow raise from the policeman. "I know what it looks like, but believe me, we were testing the properties of a substance. Obviously, I underestimated its blast pressure." McKay stopped, thoughtful. Indeed, the sergeant's face rang a bell. "Sorry, have we met before?"
Rossberg shook his face and hid it in his right hand. The situation was getting worse. If McKay knew this Sergeant Shanahan, according to the badge on his chest, and recognized his face two hours after seeing it, and if the sergeant took it the wrong way, they were in big trouble. Whatever, Rossberg was going to lose his job and be kicked out of the Air Force. Probably court martialed for being involved in terrorist activities...
"We have, but that's not the point. I–"
Sergeant Pete Shanahan turned his head to the left. McKay looked in the same direction. Two Air Force officers in Class A uniform were joining the gathering, accompanied by another policeman.
"Gentlemen," the older officer, in his early forties, greeted politely, bowing his head.
"May I help you?" Shanahan asked.
"Indeed, sir. Captain Galvez and Lieutenant Borelli – he pointed to his young colleague – US Air Force. We'd like to discuss with Doctor McKay and Lieutenant Rossberg. In private. Matter of national security."
Shanahan raised an eyebrow and stared at McKay in a strange way. The scientist swallowed, nervous. Rossberg raised his head and frowned. The cop and the prisoners were bewildered. Air Force? Matter of national security? Oh crap, that couldn't be good, McKay and Rossberg thought.