CHOOSING HIS TEAM by Tipper
(you knew I couldn't leave poor Ford and Halling dangling forever, NebbyJen! Thanks for the reviews everyone! Keeps me going!)
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CHAPTER EIGHT: IT'S NEVER EASY
"So," Sheppard's eyebrows lifted, checking his watch. It had been about twenty minutes. "How's it going McKay?"
"Shut up," the scientist snapped back.
The eyebrows lifted higher, "Not doing so hot, huh?"
"God, you're annoying," McKay muttered. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
Sheppard watched for a second, but McKay's hands blocked out most of the view inside the panel, so he couldn't tell if there had been any progress. The radio on his ear had gone silent, on standby. No one up in the control room had managed to find a solution, though Weir had said they were working on it. Unfortunately, since the room had spun and stopped at a place where the inner door was no longer flush with the outer door leading to the hallway, it meant Bates and Sanchez not only had to cut through that outer door, but would have to cut right into the wall of the room. And Sanchez said he thought it was too thick to use a blow torch. They considered blowing a hole, but it was a last resort. Meaning, basically, that everyone was waiting on McKay.
The major looked over at Ford and Halling. They were still tied to the metal ring...just in case...but they were no longer suspended. McKay had told them the floor would open again anytime soon, and they took him at his word and lowered themselves down to sit on the floor. Fact was, it didn't look like anything was moving anytime soon. Halling had woken fairly quickly from his faint, and was absently rubbing his leg above the broken bone, looking at it miserably. Ford looked ready to fall asleep, lying on the slanted floor next to Halling with an arm over his eyes.
Sheppard looked at McKay again, "Need any help?"
"Okay, that's it," McKay turned to face him, his cheeks red with annoyance. "Why don't you slide down the floor and join Ford. That way, when I open the floor, you can fall through. Huh? Seem like an idea?"
Sheppard just smiled. McKay's eyes narrowed.
"What?" the scientist asked.
"Sounds like you know you can fix it."
"Of course I can fix it," McKay snapped back quickly. "I can fix anything. Wasn't that the point of this little exercise?" The scientist shook his head, looking back at his handiwork. "In fact, it's fixed."
"Really?"
"Really."
Sheppard stared at the crazy mess of wires, crystals and burnt bits inside the panel. It still looked like a load of toasted crap to him.
"Seriously? You fixed it?"
"Yes."
"Gotta say, doesn't look fixed."
"Major..." There was warning in the tone.
"Right, right, I believe you. Okay then, why don't—"
"But there is a, uh, a small problem."
Sheppard closed his mouth, waiting until McKay turned to meet his eyes. It took the scientist a moment to do that, and when he did, Sheppard knew he wasn't going to like what he had to say.
McKay sighed, then tapped his earpiece. "Grodin?" he called, "Can you hear me?"
"Yes," Peter replied. "We all can."
"Great," Rodney muttered, "an audience." Then he looked at Sheppard, "Okay, here's the thing. I can get this room to rotate to its original position, allowing your men outside to open the door, and then Peter should be able to cut the power to the room completely...Peter, you can do that, right?"
"Yes," Grodin replied.
"Good," McKay had shifted his eyes away from Sheppard when he asked Peter that question over the radio, but now they shifted back, "Once he does that, your men should be able to extricate us without difficulty."
"But?" Sheppard prompted.
McKay nodded, "But...in order to reset the room, it needs to complete the cycle it began."
Sheppard's eyes grew, "What? You mean, with the spinning?" He twirled his finger for emphasis, "McKay, no way we can—"
"No, no, not the spinning," McKay shook his head, indicating the panel, "I've managed to isolate the control pathways for that function and bypass them...or rather, since you blew those parts to bits, I had to bypass them, and I did...I think."
"You think?" the major repeated, brow furrowing.
McKay pursed his lips, "That is, I'm pretty sure."
"Oh, that makes me feel so much better."
The scientist's blue eyes closed, and Sheppard could almost hear the other man mentally counting to ten. Finally, they opened again.
"Put it this way," McKay said, his voice quieter than normal as he stared into the ruined matrix, "I'm wrong, you can shoot that panel again, and I won't call you an idiot this time, okay?"
"Or you're wrong, and we both die."
McKay nodded, "True, but in that case, you'll cease to care, right?"
Sheppard stared at McKay's profile, then, slowly, smiled crookedly. "You're a piece of work, McKay."
"Yeah, so I've been told."
"So, if the spinning wasn't the 'but' part of your explanation...," Sheppard arched an eyebrow, "What was?"
"Well, two things, really." McKay looked back at him, then turned to look at Ford and Halling. "One is that the floor will open again, but fully this time."
That earned a stark silence. Finally, Ford cleared his throat.
"For how long?"
"That's the other thing," McKay nodded, "I don't know. In fact, there are a lot of things I don't know. For example," the scientist looked at the ring, "I have no idea what that ring is for that the two of you have been hanging from. The ceiling braces, I assume, are necessary because the extreme oscillation of the room requires extra support, but that ring..." He shook his head. "I also wonder, if the contents of this room are meant to be dumped, then how does it clean itself of anything that doesn't fall through the hole..." He frowned, and looked back into the panel. "I just don't know what other surprises—"
"Wait, wait," Grodin called over the radio. "When I was looking up information on the room, I found some information about the tippers that take the stuff away."
"The what?" Sheppard asked.
"Dump trucks," the Canadian quickly translated next to him. "The ships that haul the compacted waste away. Go on, Peter. What did you find?"
"Yes, yes, hang on..." Peter's voice faded away, then returned excitedly. "Here we go. The tippers, er, dump trucks, ships...haulers...um...what should I call them?"
"It doesn't matter, Grodin," McKay hissed, "Just keep going."
"Right, the tippers are fully automated. When the room is first activated, the tipper glides underneath, and a mechanical arm reaches up from it and attaches to the ring. That's why the floor initially opened, lieutenant, when you first got there, to allow that arm to connect, but since the tippers haven't been activated yet, there was nothing to connect...Anyway, after the room completes its final spin, the floor opens fully and the waste is dumped into the tipper to haul away to be incinerated. The arm attached to the ring anchors it so it won't shift as it's loaded. Then...ah...um...uh oh."
McKay had been staring vaguely into the panel, while Sheppard watched Ford and Halling. At Peter's "uh oh," they all looked at McKay. If the scientist felt the scrutiny, he didn't notice, just gritted his teeth.
"Peter?" he called into the radio.
"There's, uh..." Peter paused again, then stopped again. Silence met them for another minute, but they could just make out some frantic typing over the comm.
"Grodin!" McKay spat when he couldn't wait any longer.
Peter sighed clearly over the radio, "There's something here about how the tipper also collects the water runoff."
Sheppard arched an eyebrow, "Water runoff? What water runoff?"
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McKay's eyes widened, and they flashed to the left and right, absorbing Grodin's pregnant statement for its full meaning. Abruptly, he looked up at where the ceiling touched the edges of the curved wall. There was a gap there. He'd initially assumed it had to do with allowing the walls enough room to spin, but now he realized the gap was too wide.
"What water runoff?" Sheppard repeated, watching McKay, "From where?"
"There," McKay pointed upwards, "It must come out from out the gap between the ceiling and the wall."
"Yeah," Peter started speaking again, almost to himself, "Here we go. Water jets at the top of the walls spray water down the sides to clear any excess waste."
Sheppard was looking up now too, at the now very dangerous looking gap directly over where they were standing.
"That's a problem," McKay noted, his voice quavering slightly, staring at what looked like a spigot directly overhead. He could see it now that he was looking for it.
"Are you saying we will be flushed out of here," Sheppard swallowed, "like a goddamned toilet?"
"Thanks for the image, Major," McKay muttered, lowering his gaze to renew his glare.
"But, Rodney," Peter sounded hopeful now, "As you know, the water filtration and desalination units are the first things we started studying, and the different sections of the city look like they can be isolated. If you can wait a little longer, we might be able to figure out a way to turn the water off in your section."
"Might?"
"That is, I'm pretty sure," Grodin replied cheekily in imitation. McKay snorted.
"But, wait, hang on, here's the thing," Sheppard interjected, eyes narrowing as he too saw the spigot directly over McKay's head. "Will turning off the water stop the jets from blowing?"
"Um," Peter paused again, then, "No. I don't think so."
"So, we may not get washed out of here," Sheppard reiterated, looking at McKay, "but we might still get blown out?"
"Um," another pause, until, finally, "Yes."
The major blew the air out of his cheeks, peering into the panel, "Guess we'll have to find really good handholds then, McKay."
"What about us?" Ford asked, sitting up, his eyes on the two men.
"You should be fine," McKay answered dismissively, looking over at them. "The air will blow down the walls, not the middle." After he said that, he looked at Sheppard. The major was inspecting the inside of the panel, looking for better holds than the thin edges they'd been hanging onto.
"In fact, Major," McKay swallowed, "You, uh...um...you...uh..." The scientist cleared his throat, rubbing at it. Sheppard glanced at him, then continued his search.
"Yeah?"
"You...you...," McKay squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away, clearing his throat again. "Nothing. Forget about it."
"Okay."
The hand McKay was using to rub his throat tightened around it. His larynx had seized up on him, stopping the words from coming out. He had been about to tell the major he didn't have to risk this with him; that Sheppard could slide down and climb up to hang on the ring with the other two men, safely away from the jets. The ring was large, and there was clearly enough room for all three of them to hang from it...
But he couldn't. Because he didn't want to be by himself. Because he was terrified that the Major would leave him and he'd have to face the possibility of dying alone.
Because...because he was a coward.
Part of him even wanted the triggering of the matrices in the panel to be simple enough for Sheppard to do, so that he could go hang from the ring with Ford and Halling...
God, he really was a selfish bastard—a coward and a heel.
Sheppard glanced at him, and, for a brief second, McKay saw it. The look that said that Sheppard knew exactly what he was thinking. Then, suddenly, the taller man smiled.
"Any chance I can get this to work without you?" Sheppard asked innocently. "Sounds like you would be safer with Ford and Halling."
McKay shook his head, his cheeks reddening, "No. I...couldn't explain it. I need to do it." Sheppard simply nodded and returned to his inspection of the inside of the panel. Nope—there was no question who the real hero was here. McKay opened his mouth again, desperately wanting to be a hero too and tell Sheppard to leave him, but...he just couldn't.
"Inside, up here," Sheppard reached his arm in and up, tapping something, "There's a hidden recess. Feels more secure, more like something we could really grip. We should be able to hang onto it."
Ashamed, McKay just nodded and fiddled with something inside the panel.
Sheppard tapped his radio, "Grodin?"
"Yes, Major?"
"Let us know when you've got that water turned off."
"Yes, Major."
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TBC