Chapter Twelve: No Reason Then to Hesitate

Sheppard's radio crackled and he grabbed it.

"Major? Are you there?"

"McKay!" A wave of relief washed over him at the sound of the scientist's voice. "Where are you?"

"Where do you think? Look, I have no idea if I can get anything to work in here, much less create the kind of distraction you'll need to get to the Stargate. So you need to be prepared to move quickly if anything happens."

John could hear an intermittent pounding in the background of the transmission. "McKay, what's that noise?"

"Oh, that? That's the sound of a couple of Wraith trying to get in. Major, it's almost dawn. You just worry about getting through to Atlantis so you can put together a team to come back and get me."

"Listen, Rodney – are you okay? You didn't – "

He was interrupted before he could finish.

"I'm fine, Major. Now let me get back to work."

Rodney stood in the center of the huge room and turned in a slow circle, searching for anything that didn't look completely broken.

The open-plan maze reminded him of the Antarctica base, though it was hard to tell how similar they really were since most of the interior walls had fallen.

He'd already looked over the chair, which was a total write-off. A few intact crystals could be salvaged from some of the control consoles, but he didn't see anything else he could use. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting off panic and despair.

"You can do this, Rodney," he whispered to himself. "They're depending on you."

He moved to the nearest control console and knelt in the rubble to pry off the front panel. If he could collect enough crystals, perhaps he could get the controls to work.

The debris under his knee shifted, and he lost his balance and sat down hard. Swearing under his breath, he picked up the dusty chunk of Ancient building material, intending to toss it away.

The smooth texture of the object stopped him, and he wiped the dust off with his shirt-tail. Under the dirt and grime it was about the size of his two fists and shaped like a cone with the point cut off. The base had an odd pattern of silvery striations etched in the pale blue metallic substance. The flattened top bore a few marks in the script of the Ancients.

He hadn't exactly learned to read Ancient, but he was beginning to recognize some of the symbols through constant repetition, and there were two here that he was familiar with. One meant 'thought' and indicated that the user required the ATA gene to operate something. The other seemed to mean 'chest' or 'heart' and usually meant that, like the personal shield device, it should be worn or held in the middle of the chest.

Something like that personal shield device would be very useful. He held it to his breastbone and tried to flex that elusive mental muscle that seemed to tie in with the ATA gene.

Nothing happened. He clamped down on his frustration and channeled it into greater concentration.

When the object began to glow and emit a soft hum, he hardly noticed, he was so deeply focused. His hand fell slowly away, the device remaining in position on his chest. As the glow increased his eyes slid shut, and a moment later his body slumped to the floor as the device became fully activated.

TBC