Chapter Three
Certainty of death, small chance of success – what are we waiting for?
The Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King
John woke up with a headache. Figures, he thought grumpily, go to bed with a headache, wake up with a headache. He sighed, and rubbed a weary hand across his face. It was cold, he realized, though not so cold as it would be if they'd come to a stop farther up the mountain. But the temperatures dropped at night, and out there, they'd be unprotected from the elements. He shivered briefly.
This was going to be a very long day. He looked around the dim Jumper. It was a wreck, despite the work he'd done yesterday. Although, all he'd really done was get things ready to go, and bury Hicks. Not a lot you can do to fix warped metal, and shattered ships. He hated to leave it behind, but it'd never fly again.
John finally shook off the lethargy that threatened to send him back to sleep, and crawled over to the still figure wrapped in a blanket. "McKay," he called, shaking Rodney's arm gently. "Time to go."
He wanted to get an early start. He wanted off this mountain before storms rolled in. He knew from survival training that being caught on a mountain was bad news. Storms were frequent, severe, and they'd come out of nowhere. Here, they had shelter, but once they got going they were sitting ducks for bad weather.
McKay groaned, and Sheppard watched his eyes blink, and then stay open. "Go where?" he asked sleepily.
"On the big adventure," said Sheppard grimly. "Remember, I said we're hiking back to the gate." He thought it was funny he was telling McKay to remember, when he was the one struggling to keep things straight in his head.
"Bathroom," said McKay.
"Bathroom?" parroted Sheppard.
"Yes, you know, that thing people have to do in the morning?"
Sheppard noticed McKay looked uncomfortable, and it wasn't all from the pain of his knee. "Oh," he said. "Would this be number one, or two?" he asked.
McKay's face reddened. "Just get me outside," he snapped.
"Relax, I already helped you out to pee earlier," said Sheppard. He reached out and gave McKay a hand up. Rodney leaned on him heavily.
"I know," interrupted McKay. "It's just – number two," he finished lamely.
Explained the embarrassment. Men were pretty open about bodily functions, but being dependent on someone, and having to get help to take care of the basic things tended to make anyone a little self-conscious.
"Good thing we've got wipes," joked Sheppard, trying to ease McKay's discomfort. Heck, he'd have to face it himself, but at least he could get himself to a private spot.
"Sheppard, my knee hurts like hell, could we just go," McKay said.
John grinned, despite himself. "Say please."
"Shut up," retorted Rodney.
"It's worth a shot," said John. He helped McKay out, without waiting for the please, though he was half tempted to try for it again, just to keep McKay's mind off how bad his knee was hurting.
There was a large granite rock that jutted out from the mountain face, and it was big enough to afford McKay stability. John helped him over, and then stepped away. "I'll be in the Jumper, getting our stuff," he said. He figured he'd give McKay as much privacy as possible. He could hear if Rodney shouted for help, and that was close enough.
McKay didn't answer, so Sheppard went back to the ship, knowing the rough part was about to begin. He started setting the packed rucksacks onto the travois, to carry outside. He moved woodenly, trying to ignore the pressure in his head, and the blurry vision that came and went. He wished they had some extra painkillers, but they didn't. He was saving everything they had for McKay.
He figured McKay's knee was going to let him know that moving around was a bad idea. He'd held off on giving McKay the morphine, and there was a reason. The trip they were about to go on was going to teach Rodney the true meaning of hurt. He'd seen the fine lines of pain tighten around McKay's mouth as they'd moved out of the Jumper.
John sighed, there wasn't anything for it. He hated to put Rodney through the trek that was ahead of them, but it had to be done. They didn't have enough water to last for a rescue party, and even if they did; the ship was dead as a doornail, communications out, nothing worked.
"Major!"
John took a last look around the ship. This was it. He pulled the travois that he'd loaded with his pack and McKay's, and walked out.
Once he pulled on the lighter rucksack, he helped McKay shift the other for a quasi pillow, and then he tightened the straps down. As he did it, he saw McKay watching.
"Keep you in place," Sheppard explained. He looked out at the mountainous terrain. "It's going to be rough going until we get off this mountain. I don't want you going over an edge."
"This isn't going to work," said McKay. His face had gradually paled as the pain in his knee had begun to reach unbearable.
John tugged one of the pre-loaded syringes out of his vest pocket, and yanked McKay's sleeve up, driving home the shot.
Rodney yelped, "What's that for?"
"Morphine," said Sheppard. "Nighty night."
McKay stared at John, and Sheppard could see the drug kick in. His eyes drowsed shut, and his face relaxed. "You're going to need it," whispered Sheppard before looking away, and finding the rough trail he was going to follow.
The Jumper had landed probably halfway down, from what John could tell. They were below snow level, at least. In a way, it was a mixed blessing. If they'd been up higher, he could've gotten some snow and melted it for drinking, but then again, much colder and they would've frozen to death.
There weren't any trees. John was struck by the desolate picture around him; the mountain face rose gray and dark behind the wrecked Jumper, an imposing landmark, and two feet away, the ship lay crumpled and broken. He could see the blackened trail it had taken to its final resting place. The Jumper, and Hicks, would forever remain on this scoured piece of rock.
They were at a point where the slope of the mountain was gentle enough to allow them purchase, but steep enough that Sheppard would be surprised if they both didn't end up falling at some point. The ground was littered with small stones, eroded loose over the years from weathering. It was sharp and hard, and he was thankful for his thick boots. He'd need to keep the travois at a decent angle to keep McKay from dragging across the ground and getting bruised. He was going to do his best to scout out a safe descent, but he was worried. And on top of all that, his head pounded with increasing intensity.
He hooked the straps around his shoulders, and began walking, having already gotten the first part scouted. He wasn't sure how long it'd take, or how likely McKay was to sleep through it, but he'd do his best to minimize the pain Rodney had to suffer.
The first hour passed pretty easy, as easy as dragging a dead weight goes. The path was narrow, probably some kind of mountain goat or other animal had worn it into a traceable pattern, but the travois fit with a few inches to spare. It meandered downward, skirting to one edge, and then he'd find another to skirt the other way, going downward in a criss-cross fashion.
John quickly worked up a sweat. His head now ached so badly he fought to keep down a power bar he'd eaten earlier. He figured it might not be a bad idea to stop, and take a breather. He slid out of the harness, and dropped beside McKay, reaching over to check McKay's knee.
The knee was a mess. Grossly swollen, worse than the day before. He knew if Beckett were here, the doctor would tell him the knee probably needed draining. Accumulating fluid was going to drive McKay mad with pain, but that was beyond what basic field care that Sheppard could provide.
John tightened the bandage, pausing when McKay groaned, but finished once he fell silent again. He looked back, and guessed they'd come maybe a mile in the hour. It'd been slow going, and looking down, he began to realize they'd be spending the night on the side of this lonely mountain.
He sighed; time was up. They might not make it off the mountain tonight, but he wanted to do his best, and judging from the clouds gathering on the horizon, it might be a wet night wherever they stopped. He stood, wavering for a moment, before getting his legs solidly under him. He hefted the straps back into place, and began plodding on…
oOo
Two hours later, John was ready to call it a day. He knew it was too early, but he was tired, and now he had come to a spot where he couldn't pick out a safe path down. He needed to go scouting, and he didn't want to leave until McKay had his senses about him.
"McKay!" called Sheppard.
He had found a somewhat sheltered outcropping, and laid the travois down. Rodney could benefit from eating and drinking at this point also, so he needed to get him up and awake.
McKay's eyelids flickered briefly. John shook him, urging him to finish coming out of the drugged sleep. "Come on, get up," said Sheppard.
Rodney's eyes opened a small amount, and then closed. John shook harder. The eyes came back up, and this time they were fully open. They regarded Sheppard with confusion, but he watched as it cleared.
"Where are we?" asked McKay, lifting his head up so he could see.
"The good ship lollypop," answered Sheppard tiredly. "You need to eat something," he said, stating the reason he'd woken McKay.
"You woke me up to feed me?" Rodney asked incredulous. "I was sleeping. It didn't hurt when I was asleep."
"Dying is going to hurt a lot more," John said dryly. "If you don't eat and drink, you die."
"It's only been hours."
"How do you know?" retorted Sheppard. "What if you've been out for a day?"
"Because it hasn't been, Major," McKay snapped. "Why are you being such a jerk?"
Sheppard stared at McKay for a second, before turning away, and yanking the bag out from behind McKay's back. "Because I'm trying to save your ass, and you're snapping at me."
"Who's snapping at who!" retorted McKay, his head falling back in the empty space where the bag had been.
A power bar slapped into his chest. McKay's hand reached for it as it hit, preventing it from falling off. He glared at Sheppard, but John had already looked away.
The clouds were growing darker, and gaining ground. He could smell the approaching storm. He reached for a canteen and took a small sip, recapped it, and tossed it towards McKay.
"I've got to go look for a better trail," he said, still looking troubled at the sky. "You be alright while I'm gone?"
"I think I can handle it," replied McKay.
John turned back and looked at him, growing serious. "McKay, don't try to go anywhere. This area is dangerous. The loose rock will slip underfoot and I don't want you falling and hurting yourself more. I won't be gone long."
McKay glanced at his knee. "I'm not going anywhere."
"I know – just, not even a little bit, okay?"
"I've got it, alright," replied McKay shortly. "I'm not incompetent. I get it. Stay. Good Doctor. Sit. Stay."
Sheppard should've known. Couldn't say a simple thing without getting a smart-ass comment back. He bit back his own nasty reply, and instead gave a slight wave, and started picking his way carefully through the rocks. Smart-ass or not, it was his job to get McKay back in one piece. He only hoped after this was over, they could figure out how to do the same to their friendship.
Sheppard was gone longer than he'd planned, and by the time he got back, the sky was darkening; in part due to the approaching storm, but also dusk was not far on its heels.
"Where the hell were you!" exclaimed McKay, as Sheppard's head appeared over the edge of the rock that was protecting McKay.
Sheppard figured he had that coming. "Sorry, took longer than I planned," he said.
John dropped besides McKay, physically exhausted, and his stomach had finally lost the ability to keep down food when he was making his way back. Definitely had a concussion.
McKay must have realized Sheppard wasn't doing so hot, because he backed off. "Just…don't do it again," he said. "I was worried."
"I know," acknowledged Sheppard. He stared off in the distance and watched lightening flash across the sky. "We're staying the night here. I found a safe way through the next leg, but this storm is coming up fast and there wasn't any better place to ride it out."
McKay didn't say anything for a while. They sat in silence and watched the light show, listened to the soft rumblings grow stronger, and louder as it got nearer. Finally, he spoke. "I've been thinking. You remember that planet with the kids?"
Sheppard kicked his foot out, dislodging a rock from under his calf. "Yeah, what about it?"
McKay had propped himself against the rock, and he had pulled his one good knee up close to his chest. "I think the same thing brought us down."
"How do you figure?" asked Sheppard, pulling his eyes off the sky. "There's no sign that anyone lives on this planet."
"Maybe they died out?" postured McKay.
Sheppard didn't look like he believed it. "Isn't that the point of the EMP field? To keep them alive?"
"An EMP field will protect them from the Wraith," replied McKay. "It won't save them from other things."
"Such as - "
"Plagues would be the obvious, but it could've been any number of things, remember the dinosaurs?"
Sheppard thought the idea of plagues wasn't exactly comforting, but hopefully if that was the reason, it would've died out without any hosts left to propagate in.
"How come this EMP field didn't get caught before?" asked Sheppard, his tone harsh, because the first team to check out the planet should've reported problems. Now, a man was dead, and they were stranded.
McKay gave an angry jerk. "It's not my fault, so don't go looking for an apology."
"I didn't ask for an apology, I just want to know why nobody knew this was going to happen?"
"Because nobody knew, Major," snapped McKay. "For all I know, it might be caused by whatever is creating the aurora borealis phenomena on this planet. That's the whole reason we came on this mission."
Sheppard gathered to reply about scientists and their inability to see past their obsessions, when a sharp pain knocked him back. His hand went up to his head, and he fought a new wave of nausea. He fought it back down.
"What's wrong with you?"
John forced the pain off his face. "Nothing," he said. "Tired." He didn't want McKay's sympathy. He wanted off this God damn rock, and back home. He wanted McKay safe in Beckett's hands, and then, when all that was done, he'd write the letter to Hicks' folks.
McKay didn't say anything to that, though John's lame reply hung heavy in the air between them. Finally, the silence grew too much for Sheppard. He scooted over, and pulled out the blanket, dropping it in McKay's lap.
"Get some sleep," he ordered, and then as another thought occurred, he asked, "Is your knee bad enough for morphine, or will some Tylenol work?"
McKay gritted his teeth as he moved to drape the blanket around his body enough to stay warm. "Tylenol," he said.
Sheppard looked at him for a minute, knowing it was bad enough for morphine, but they both knew the limited supply wasn't going to last. The longer he could hold out, the better. He'd need it in the morning, before Sheppard started dragging him around again. John took out a packet, and handed it to him along with the water.
The fury of the storm had petered out, leaving a steady drizzle falling. It was cold, damp, and probably one of the most miserable nights John could ever recall spending. McKay had slept through most of it, though Sheppard had heard him tossing and turning, as much as his injured knee allowed, more than his fair share as well.
The morning dawned, and it was as wet and rotten as the night before. The rain made the rock slippery, and Sheppard knew this was going to be a harder day than the previous one. He staggered up, his muscles stiff from the poor weather, and found a secluded area to relieve himself.
From what he'd seen yesterday, he guessed barring anything going wrong, they'd get off the mountain today. This last stretch was going to be the worst. If he could get McKay down safely, he hoped the rest would go quicker. He knew they'd send out a rescue team, and he could only hope they could get to the gate first. Maybe Elizabeth would wait, give them extra time because this was such a harmless mission.
John didn't know if they'd get to the gate in the next two days, and any rescue team would face the same dangerous EMP field that had taken their Jumper down. He didn't want anyone else to die.
"Time to go?" asked a sleepy McKay from behind him.
Sheppard turned away from the edge of the trail he'd been standing on, overlooking the plain that lie below; the plain that they were trying to get to. "Yeah," he answered softly, the anger from last night lost in the fatigue and ever-present headache. "Time to go."