CHOOSING HIS TEAM by Tipper
CHAPTER FOUR: DOWN THE WATER SPOUT
Head down, McKay headed away from the Control Room, his eyes on the marble flooring, following the pattern with his eyes. It was subtle, but it was there. Most of the floors were plain, but some, like this one—which led to the first laboratory they'd found—was delicately patterned.
His hands fiddled with the ancient device in his pocket. He'd found it in the lab late last night, having quickly grown bored with the "party" and wanting to explore more. The text in the database told him that it generated some sort of "personal shield" (if he'd translated it correctly). His fingers gently rubbed the smooth surface as he tried to ignore the sting in his arm from the injection Beckett had given him about ten minutes ago. That had been one hell of a needle.
His mind wandered, thinking about what Beckett's "gene therapy" might mean if it worked. He might actually be able to work Ancient tech like the Major.
His smile broadened at the thought of Major Sheppard, unable to help himself. He'd only arrived in time to hear the latter half of the man's conversation with Teyla, but he had been in time to see the awkward handshake moment. He just couldn't help ribbing the major...and was oddly pleased at the ribbing he'd received in return.
Reserve judgment, the man had said. That really was a new phenomenon for McKay. People always thought they had him pegged within a few moments: as a jerk.
And they'd be right. He was a jerk.
And he was damn proud of it.
He was rude, arrogant, impatient and, frankly, mean—ergo, "jerk." It was a front that meant people would get right to the point with him, and wouldn't bother feigning politeness or any other PC nicety. It was also, to put it bluntly, a means to get most people to leave him alone. And he liked being alone.
Most of the time.
He stopped at the top of the metal stairs leading to the lower levels, right hand reaching out unconsciously to touch the railing to lean on. He pulled the personal shield out of his pocket, frowning a little as it continued to stay dead as he balanced it on his left palm.
Then occasionally, rarely, he'd meet someone who could return his snide remarks with equally biting ones. The Major was the first person in a long time who responded that way, and without any hint of anger or disdain. Had he made that remark about seduction by confusion to, well, anyone else, they would have either have ignored him, or, thinking themselves insulted, responded defensively, even nastily. Carter, for example, for all her brilliance, usually reacted defensively. The Major, however, had not only bit back—he had been funny. Hell, he had even used a Monty Python reference, perhaps in return for the one McKay had made. That in itself was impressive!
And combined with their conversation earlier this morning…for the first time in a very, very long time…McKay wondered if he had actually found a friend. Sure, Carson was his friend, but that was only because Carson knew him so well. It had taken months for Carson to finally start not taking offense at everything McKay said, to learn that McKay meant very little of what came out of his mouth, and now they had a very comfortable rapport. But this thing with the Major?
Huh.
Well, it was something McKay had to admit…he wasn't used to.
It was, well, neat.
His eyes lifted from the floor, his eyes showing how pleased it made him. Yes indeed, so far today was turning out to be pretty….
"Doctor Weir! Doctor McKay!" someone shouted over the radio on McKay's ear, causing him to grimace and immediately reach for the volume control. "Major Sheppard! Please respond!"
"This is Doctor Weir," Elizabeth chimed in over the radio.
"Sheppard here," the Major's disembodied voice stated.
McKay sighed, putting the personal shield back in his pocket and tapping the earpiece, "McKay here."
"What's the matter?" Elizabeth asked.
"And can you please refrain from shouting your answer?" McKay added.
A deep breath, then, more quietly, but by no means any less stressed. "This is Lieutenant Ford. We have an emergency on level…um…I'm not sure how far down. Gotta be at least three or four levels down though, maybe more. I'm with one of the Athosians, and we fell down some kind of...elevator shaft or something, into a really strange room, and I can't see an exit. Please, Major and Doctor McKay, just get down here as quickly as you can. And tell Doctor Beckett, we need a medical team as well. Halling is hurt. And...oh...this isn't good..."
McKay didn't even wait for him to finish as he immediately started sprinting down the stairs he stood next to, aiming (for now) for three floors down.
"Where exactly are you!" he called to Ford, "Can you describe the room?"
—————————————————————
Shaking off the tremors and pain of the hard fall, Ford tried to stand up on the slippery, slanted metal floor under his feet, without much success. Next to him, lying on the floor, Halling lay groaning, cradling what was clearly a broken leg (the Athosian had fallen badly when they were dumped into this place from above). Ford patted the big man's shoulder in sympathy, then, trying to ignore the bruises covering his body, tried to get his bearings as he looked around at this bizarre, empty room.
It was large and circular—about the size of a good sized conference room, maybe thirty feet in diameter. Above, the ceiling was patterned with crisscrossed metal braces, in between which were about fifteen (now-closed) chute openings much like the one he and Halling had fallen through. In the middle of the ceiling was a large metal ring, the purpose of which was lost on the lieutenant.
Strangest of all, though, was the floor they tried to get their balance on—mainly because it wasn't flat. He was standing in the bottom of a deep, shallow funnel-like bowl, the smooth sides sloping down to a fairly sharp point in the center. At its deepest, it looked to be at least fifteen feet from the ceiling above. He was about to say something about the oddness of it when Halling let out a truly painful yell of pain, and Ford finally reacted by hitting his radio, remembering his duty.
"Doctor Weir," he yelled into the mic, "Doctor McKay! Major Sheppard! Please respond!" One of them would get them out of here, right? He looked up at the ceiling again as each person answered, blushing a little as McKay asked him not to shout. Taking a deep breath, he tried to speak more calmly as he explained what had happened and where they were...
"This is Lieutenant Ford. We have an emergency on level…um…I'm not sure how far down. Gotta be at least three or four levels down though, maybe more. I'm with one of the Athosians, and we fell down some kind of...elevator shaft or something, into a really strange room, and I can't see an exit. Please, Major and Doctor McKay, just get down here as quickly as you can. And tell Doctor Beckett, we need a medical team as well. Halling is hurt. And..."
He paused, finally taking a really good look at the floor. He suddenly realized the pattern reminded him of a basket steamer for vegetables. Wait a moment...
"Oh," he breathed, catching on, "this isn't good..."
It wasn't a pattern. They were slats, interconnected slats. Slats that it didn't take a genius to guess...moved. At some point, the floor must open like a flower, dropping him and Halling into whatever might be below.
Which was probably a hundred foot drop into nothing.
Oh crap.
And, as if on cue, the room started to hum. Double crap!
"Where exactly are you?" McKay called abruptly, "Can you describe the room?"
"Um..." Ford licked his lips and tried to describe the room, even as he started looking for some way to get them out of here, or at least, off this "floor." McKay cut him off mid-sentence after he said it was circular, saying something about recalling seeing three circular rooms on a map up in the control room the day before, about eight levels down, and described the location of them to Grodin up in the control room. Weir chimed in to say that Grodin was looking to pinpoint it now.
Meanwhile, Ford turned around in circles, trying to find...there...was that a door? Yes! That had to be the door! On one side of the room was what looked like the edges of an entrance, though it was currently closed and flush with the wall. Next to it were six black dots in a horizontal line...no, not dots...un-lit lights. He realized that when he noticed the one farthest to the left was flashing red...warming up? Crap, crap, crap...
He tapped the radio again, "Doctor Weir, Major Sheppard, things have just gotten worse—I think this room's going to dump us out soon, and I don't know into what. Please hurry!"
"Dump you?" McKay answered, breathing heavily into the radio probably because he was running.
Ford gave a quick explanation, of his guess at what the floor did, and he heard McKay swear. Meanwhile, the young lieutenant looked down at Halling, to see a nervous look on the Athosian's face that probably mirrored his own.
"Okay, Halling," he said, trying to smile confidently, "first thing we need to do is get off this floor."
Just then, Grodin joyfully exclaimed over the radio that he'd found it—the only circular room on the map that was currently evidencing a surge of power, and started relaying directions over the radio (McKay had been right—they were eight levels down). Meanwhile, Ford looked up again at the ceiling. He focused on the metal ceiling braces, looming about ten feet over their heads. He considered primarily the metal ring...and decided he could probably get his legs through it.
The humming grew louder...and something clicked. He glanced at the lights by the door—the first light was a steady red now. The next in line started to flash. Shit, shit, SHIT!
Ford shook off the adrenalin rush from his fear pulsing through his veins, and ripped the belt from his waist to tie it into a loop. Then he shucked off his vest and pulled off his jacket, to tie to the end of the belt. Still wasn't long enough...
"Got any rope?" he asked, looking down again at Halling.
"He...here." The Athosian quickly undid the rope around his own waist and held it up to Ford. The lieutenant quickly attached it to the jacket sleeve. A moment later, he was throwing the buckle end of his belt towards the ring, grimacing a little at the awkwardness of the impromptu rope he'd created. The first throw missed, the buckle ringing against the metal as it hit. The second time, the buckle end sailed right through the center of the ring and, soon, Ford had the line secured and was attaching the nylon straps on his vest to it to create a harness.
"Ford, any way you can see to get off that floor? Climb up off of it?" Sheppard asked over the radio, finally interrupting the chatter of McKay and Grodin as they discussed the room's purpose and ways to try and shut it down from the control room...and Grodin's swear as the laptop he was working on apparently froze.
"Already on it, sir," Ford replied as he checked the knots he'd created. "I've rigged a sort of harness from my vest, and am hooking us up to a metal ring in the center of the ceiling. Should work to keep us suspended until you can get to us."
There was a momentary silence on the line, then Sheppard answered, "Okay then. Good job, Ford." He sounded impressed. Ford fought the urge to smile as he tested his knots one more time.
"Thank you, sir." Satisfied with his handiwork, Ford looked down at Halling. "Can you stand?" The big man looked at him like he was nuts. Ford nodded leaning over to hand him the vest. "Put it on. Then we'll haul you up."
Halling grimaced, but did as he was told, then he watched as Ford, using the "rope," climbed up to the ring and put a leg through it. As soon as he felt secure enough—braced by both his legs—he let himself fall upside down, grabbed the rope with both hands and started to heave Halling up off the floor. The big man groaned as pain lanced down his leg, but he did his best to help Ford, using his considerable arm strength to climb up to where the lieutenant could get a grip on him. Soon they were both dangling from the ceiling, braced by the metal ring...watching the funnel-like floor with trepidation.
Just in time to see it move. The slats contracted...then loosened a little, creating a pinprick of a hole in the center, just enough to see the sparkling ocean...really far below.
And around them, the humming had gotten louder, as ancient, old machinery really started to kick into motion away behind the walls. Ford looked over at the door. Two lights steady red, the next flashing yellow. Only three more to go after that...
Ford managed to let go of Halling with one arm without losing him, and snaked the free hand up to his radio.
"By the way, if I didn't say it before," he yelled into the microphone, "we need HELP!"
TBC