Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is in no way, shape, or form mine, nor do I make any profit from the following story. It is a work of fan fiction necessitated by the three-plus month hiatus between the first 10 episodes and the remainder of the first season! Arrghhhh...

Ghosts of Prague

By Kerr Avon

3. Lost Lambs

The trapdoor dropped them into darkness, onto a curved ramp with a sixty-degree angle. It was glass-smooth, without any purchases to slow their descent. After a distance of fifteen feet or so, the ramp opened into a shaft, into which they shot at an accelerating velocity. Plunging straight down another fifteen feet, they struck another angled, smooth ramp, totally disorienting the pair. This second slope was longer, and its angle of descent became shallower as they neared its end. However, once again the two flew into the air, this time to fall ten feet straight down. Here their unanticipated trip came to a jarring halt as they landed on a pile of metallic debris not unlike what they had found in the room above.

Sheppard groaned as he lay where he landed, catching his breath. Mentally taking stock of his position, he decided that, although seriously bumped and bruised, he had no nonsurvivable injuries immediately apparent. 'Boy, I'm going to hurt tomorrow morning.' Grunting slightly under his breath, he managed to roll onto his knees, and from there clambered with effort to his feet. He stood swaying for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room.

The chamber he found himself in was huge, with a total of twelve angled chutes projecting from the wall. Beneath each ramp was a similar pile of discarded metallic parts. Towards the center of the room stood a circle of oversized tables upon which more recognizable bits of devices could be seen. For unknown reasons, the tabletops were approximately 6 or 7 feet above the floor, as if they were constructed to be used by giants. "It's the dump..." he murmured in realization. "Or, rather, the recycling center. They try to fix the broken stuff upstairs, and if they can't, they drop it down here. Someone then sorts through it for reusable parts..." He glanced again at the height of the tables. "Someone really tall..." He was unclear as to what happened to the rest of the unusable device, but his deliberations were interrupted by a low moan nearer the pipe from which they emerged.

"Dr. Zelenka!" He carefully picked his way over to where he'd heard the sound. "Doctor! Can you hear me?" He cupped his hand to his mouth to help his voice carry.

"Uhnnhh..." came another incoherent moan, slightly to his right. He headed towards the sound and was finally rewarded with the sight of a huddle of blue and gray clothing.

Kneeling beside the stunned engineer, he gently rolled him onto his back. Zelenka had clearly had the worse trip of the two; his face was scraped and bruised, his glasses were missing, and there was a large knot on his forehead beneath a laceration that was puddling blood on the floor next to his head. However, the most worrisome injury was the man's left leg - it was bent at such an unnatural angle that there was little doubt that it was broken.

Sheppard's lips drew into a thin, grim line. That leg needed to be straightened and splinted, or he might lose it. The blood supply was certainly compromised at that angle and needed to be restored before permanent damage was done. No matter how you sliced it, though, it was going to be excruciating.

'Best to do while he's mostly out.' Sheppard concluded.

Searching the nearby stacks of rubble rewarded him with a couple of straight metal rods that could be used as splints, as well as some thick wiring he could use to hold everything together. Materials gathered, he settled back down by the semi-conscious scientist and grasped his ankle. The man moaned slightly, but there was otherwise no response.

"Doctor Zelenka. Your leg is broken. I need to pull it straight." He didn't think that the insensible man could hear him, but he figured he'd better warn him, just in case.

"This is going to hurt." He didn't bother adding the doctor-cliché 'a little bit', because it wasn't true. This was going to hurt a lot.

Steeling his resolve, the Major braced the thigh so it wouldn't move, then sharply pulled the lower leg back into a straight line.

Zelenka let out a blood-curdling scream, eyes flying open, then his head lolled to the side completely unaware. 'Thank God he passed out.' The Major chuckled grimly to himself, remembering McKay's insistence on that phrase instead of 'fainted'. Either way, Sheppard took advantage of his state and rapidly splinted the leg in position. Stripping off the boot, he checked the color of the foot and its pulses. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found both to be good and replaced the footwear, but only laced it up loosely due to the impending swelling which would certainly result. Next he grasped the scientist under the arms and dragged him over to the clear floor next to the oversized tables, where he wouldn't be jabbed by awkward metal corners poking into his back. Winded by his exertions, Sheppard collapsed on the floor next to him, opened his canteen, and settled down to wait.

---------------

"Lieutenant Ford, have you seen the Major?" Teyla had caught Aiden just as he was going off duty.

"No, have you tried his office?" He glanced down the hallway in that direction.

Teyla looked exasperated. "That is the first place that I searched when he did not keep our appointment." She must have seen the unspoken question in the young man's raised eyebrows, for she continued, "We were supposed to go to the range for target practice?"

Ford remembered Sheppard's insistence that all members of any off-world team have at least a passing familiarity with the military-issue weapons and how to use them to defend themselves. The Major had personally taken it upon himself to teach McKay and Teyla, but rapidly discovered that (for his own sanity) they needed separate instruction. Aiden nodded in understanding. "Let's check the mess hall; maybe he's in there."

----------------

"Oohhhhh...." The Czech began stirring an hour or so later, and Sheppard was quickly at his side. While the scientist had been unconscious, John had checked him over for other injuries, then had tried unsuccessfully to contact Control. Either both their radios had been broken in the fall, or radiowaves didn't penetrate this far into the bowels of the city. There was one corridor leading out of the chamber they found themselves in, but short forays down it revealed nothing that resembled a familiar landmark to the pilot. Disconcertingly, the power and lighting had been sporadic, much like the time the energy-sucking creature had been loose on base. As Sheppard reached out to help him sit up, the lights dimmed for the third time since they'd arrived.

Zelenka leaned forward, head in his hands, and cracked open an eye. "What?..." he asked, looking around the now-dim chamber.

"We took a fall," replied Sheppard by way of explanation. "How do you feel?" He kept his voice low, knowing that the scientist would have a heck of a headache from the size of the bump on his head.

The injured fellow dropped his hands and shrugged expressively. Dipping his head slightly to the right he replied, "I am all right." He shifted his position slightly and hissed in pain, "My leg, however, is not."

Sheppard looked on sympathetically. "Yeah, I know. 'Fraid it's broken."

Zelenka squinted nearsightedly at the makeshift splint. "And you have straightened it?"

"Yeah." Sheppard noticed his companion's visual difficulty. "Let me see if I can find your glasses. They must have come down that chute with us." As if on cue, the lighting brightened noticeably.

Arching an eyebrow, the pilot refrained from comment and started searching near where he had found Zelenka. A few moments of careful inspection produced a miraculously-intact pair of glasses, which John triumphantly placed on the engineer's nose.

"Thank you very much." Zelenka gratefully adjusted the spectacles to fit his face once more. Brown eyes widened as he took in his surroundings for the first time in greater detail. "It is the...ummm...garbage dump," he finally commented.

Sheppard nodded but answered, "Or possibly a 'recycling center', but yes, I think we are sitting in a room full of stuff that the Ancients threw away."

He could literally see the waves of curiosity emanating from the engineer's immobile body. The man was clearly itching to get his hands on any of the junk in the immediate vicinity, if only his legs would take him there. Sheppard couldn't help grinning; just like Rodney, but polite!

Dragging out his canteen, the injured man uncapped it and held it towards the Major. "Would you care for some water?" he asked.

"No, I have some." He gestured to his own canteen on his hip. "But thanks for asking."

"Food, perhaps?"

Sheppard looked questioningly at him. "Do you have any? We were only supposed to be gone for four hours."

Zelenka shook his head as he began to produce an astonishing array of power bars and MRE leftovers from various pockets. "You do not spend four hours alone with Rodney McKay and not have food secreted about your person."

"I'm glad you didn't change your habits with your temporary change of partner." John selected a power bar and started cleaning the cut on the physicist's forehead.

------------

"McKay, have you seen Major Sheppard?" Ford and Teyla barged into the astrophysicist's lab just in time to upset the balance of an experiment that he'd been working at for over an hour one-handed. As it went clattering to the floor, Rodney shot them an angry glare.

"No I haven't, and I haven't seen that reprobate Zelenka yet, either! He was supposed to be helping me here once he got done with today's mapping, but he must have decided that he had better things to do." In reality, McKay felt a little guilty that he'd stuck his friend with the job that neither of them cared for, and suspected that the man was avoiding him out of anger. Not that Zelenka tended to do things like that, but it was the only conclusion he could come to.

"Well, the Major was supposed to go..." Ford began, but was interrupted by Teyla.

"Are not you and Doctor Zelenka assigned to do mapping together?"

Rodney held up his bandaged hand. "Hello? Injured here?"

Now Ford was intrigued. "Then who was he going to do the mapping with? Weir requires two-person teams, minimum."

Rodney's voice dripped sarcasm. "As I have said before, who am I, 'Answer Man'? I have no idea. I told him to see Sheppard about assigning a new partner until I've recovered." He sighed dramatically and began to reassemble the device he'd been so tediously working on. "Now if you don't mind..." he gestured meaningfully towards the doorway.

Ford and Teyla turned to go. "Well, I doubt that the Major would have gone with the doc; I've heard him say that he'd rather watch paint dry than 'explore' another empty room."

"And he did have all those papers he had to do," added Teyla.

Ford stopped before he reached the door. "Papers?"

"Yes." Teyla stared at him sincerely. "'OERs' I think they are called."

A contemplative voice piped up from behind them. "Sheppard hates filling out OERs." The two turned to meet the solemn eyes of Dr. McKay. "If it was a choice between doing paperwork or pacing out empty rooms, he'd take the empty rooms."

Ford nodded. "No question."

Teyla looked from one man to the other as they reached the same conclusion. Rodney put it in words. "Then wherever Sheppard is, Zelenka's there too."

TBC....

AN: OK, we've started with the Zelenka-whumping...