CHOOSING HIS TEAM by Tipper
(bowing to pressure from my reviewers, here's seven...hee hee. Thank you guys!)
CHAPTER SEVEN: THE TRUTH ABOUT LEMMINGS
The spinning slowed, the pressure lifting off the two gasping men as they tried to get their breath back. The headaches each now sported drummed away at their skulls, and tremors of pain spiked down from their chests to their legs.
Sheppard took a breath, then a deeper one, until, finally, he felt he could stand up fully again...to the extent he could on the sliver of flat surface at the edge of the floor.
The room finally stilled, and he gave a small smile. Glancing at McKay, he noticed the man looked shaky but otherwise okay...probably feeling about as horrible as he did at the moment. The scientist was flexing the fingers on one hand, obviously working to get the circulation back after their deathgrip on the panel's edge.
"You okay, sir?" Ford asked weakly from his position. The major nodded, looking over at the lieutenant and Halling. The Athosian was out cold.
"You?" he asked.
"Ready to puke, but, hell, I've been on worse rides at Six Flags."
Sheppard laughed, ignoring the pain in his lungs, and then sighed. Thank god.
The radio came to life on his ear, and he answered both Beckett and Elizabeth's questions—telling them they were all alright, but that he'd had to destroy the panel on the inside of the room. That earned a sigh from Grodin, and Weir asked them to standby.
Turning his head, he looked over at McKay.
And found himself on the receiving end of a glare that would have curled the devil's toes.
The major blinked, then gave a smile.
"Is that anyway to look at the man who just saved your life?"
"You, Major, are an idiot!" McKay spat, his voice raspy.
Sheppard eyes narrowed, "Excuse me?"
"All I had to do," the scientist indicated the now destroyed panel, "was remove the control crystal. You didn't have to shoot it!"
Sheppard actually felt embarrassed, staring at the destruction he'd caused, "What?"
"If I had needed your help," the scientist repeated, speaking slowly as if to a child, "I would have let you know. My God," McKay looked up at the ceiling, then back at Sheppard, "if your answer to every problem we come across is going to be firing a gun at it, Major, then we're not going to last long out here!"
Sheppard stared at that, then drew himself up, "What the hell are you talking about! We were suffocating! I did what I had to!"
"And what the hell do you think I was doing?" McKay snapped back.
"Hell if I knew! You could have been hitting on it for all I could tell! My way was faster!"
"Faster?"
"Yeah!"
"I repeat, you are an idiot!"
"We're still breathing, aren't we?"
"So?"
"So? That's better than dying in my book, while waiting for you to figure out how to fix something."
McKay's eyes flared with a fury that Sheppard easily matched. For a few moments, neither man spoke, a war of wills rising to a level that was almost as oppressive as the pressure the room had just created.
"Well, Major," McKay said eventually, breaking the silence, "Congratulations. Through sheer stupidity, you've managed to not only trap us in here for, possibly, good, but you've also succeeded in proving my theory that all military heads are morons with some aplomb. Nice job."
Sheppard ground his teeth together, decided this wasn't the time, and looked back at the panel.
He had to admit, it looked bad.
Part of a scorched, dead crystal fell over and clattered inside the now black looking matrix.
Okay...really bad.
"So, you can't fix it, I take it?" he asked finally.
McKay closed his eyes, and, when he opened them, he was looking inside the panel. "With what? My handy sonic screwdriver? No—you destroyed it quite effectively."
"Huh, figures," Sheppard leaned against the wall. At least the floor appeared like it was going to stay closed now. McKay peered back at him out of the corner of his eyes.
"What figures?"
"Things get too hard, you chicken out," the Major replied. "We may be morons, Doctor McKay, but at least we never give up. You, however, appear to have the staying power of a lemming."
McKay stared at him, then frowned, "A lemming? That doesn't even make sense!"
"They run off cliffs!" Sheppard explained.
The scientist rolled his eyes, "Oh for Christ's...that's a myth!"
"They don't run off cliffs?" Sheppard actually looked surprised.
"No!"
"Oh," Sheppard looked down, then up again, "Are you sure? I mean, I thought that was sort of common—"
"Major! Doctor McKay!" Ford called, exasperated, "Please!"
Sheppard looked over at the poor lieutenant, who was straining now that the unconscious Halling wasn't helping, then back at McKay. Grimacing, he turned his eyes to study the inside of the panel. McKay sighed and leaned on the wall next to the opening, staring disconsolately at the damaged crystals and still sparking equipment.
A tiny smile lit on Sheppard's face, and he looked at McKay. The scientist saw him looking, and met his gaze. McKay's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
"C'mon, Doc, this isn't like you. Find another way outta here."
McKay blinked, "I'm sorry? Isn't like me? You don't even know me! You think a couple of conversations and—"
"You told me this morning that you could fix anything—that you even repaired a '74 Ferrari Dino you found in a scrapheap from the dead. Compared to fixing Italian engineering, this has got to be a piece of cake!"
"That's different!"
"You sure?"
"Yes! Did you not hear what I said? This panel is just junk now! No one could—"
"You're the smartest man in two galaxies, right? So, prove it."
McKay's jaw flexed, "Major..."
"Or was Major Carter right about you?" Sheppard gave him a sly look, "You're all frosting and no cake?"
The scientist's eyes widened so much, Sheppard was afraid they would fall out of their sockets.
"You...you...She never...She...Damn it!" McKay clamped his mouth shut, then turned and reached into the panel to start fiddling with the ruined innards for what could be salvaged. Sparks flew, but that just seemed to make McKay madder.
Sheppard smiled smugly and leaned back to wait for the genius to get them out of there.
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TBC