TITLE: Night of the Reindeer
AUTHOR: Wraithfodder
RATING: T
CATEGORY: Action/humor
SPOILERS: Based in season 2.
SUMMARY: Colonel Sheppard's team should never go through the gate on Christmas eve. It just never works out. An SGA Christmas tale..
PART 3
Sheppard could hear Ronon quite literally straining at his bonds as the thugs approached with the knives. No, they weren't going to have their heads hacked off with an axe. They were going to get their throats slit!
It all happened so fast that they had no time to react.
Sheppard sat there a second later, stunned. He rubbed at his sore wrists while staring at the table. Even Ronon seemed perplexed at the sudden change in venue and luckily the larger man had been the last one the thugs got to, otherwise the situation could have turned out radically different.
Their throats hadn't been slit, but the tight ropes restraining them had been cut, freeing them to get the blood circulating back in their limbs. In the time that it took for the 'thugs' to accomplish that feat, two women had come in and placed down a number of deep red dishes, accompanied by massively large mugs and a jug of something that even from where Sheppard sat, reeked suspiciously of something like ale.
With a caution reserved for perhaps an unstable container of nitroglycerin, Tersen removed the mystery item from the gold box and set it down on a long deep red plate.
Not a pedicure kit, Sheppard thought in relief.
McKay gawked at the item, his face going from shock to... anger? "Oh my god!"
"It's the fruitcake, Rodney," said Sheppard. He made sure he nodded and smiled happily at the bigger men before them. They still had all the large knives and overwhelming manpower.
"Someone's trying to kill me," McKay whispered, much like a character in a bad melodrama.
"What?" Had McKay been knocked on the head?
"Fruitcake. As in fruit," McKay explained as though talking down to a three-year-old.
"They're not citrus, Rodney," pointed out Sheppard. "It's brandy, candied cherries, nuts. It's not chockfull of marmalade."
"Oh, for pete's sake. You can fly an alien spacecraft but don't realize that fruitcakes contain citron which is citrus," complained McKay under his breath. "I could have died of anaphylactic shock if I'd eaten that!" He suddenly stopped in the middle of a thought. "Wait, what do you mean, 'the' fruitcake?"
Not sure just how much he should say in front of their potentially homicidal hosts, Sheppard leaned over – carefully this time – and whispered "The one making the rounds on the base. Get in the loop, McKay. Someone just re-gifted it to you." Cripes, he'd heard that Lorne had gotten it, but he got rid of it quickly, and well, look where it had ended up now.
McKay looked very insulted. Sheppard wasn't sure if it was the fruitcake part or the re-gifting part that had him ticked off, or maybe it was equal parts of both. But he was slightly more interested in what Tersen was doing with the cake because if the Lubri didn't like it, they all still stood the chance of being killed where they sat.
Tersen sliced off a tiny piece of the fruitcake, which obviously wasn't a decade old and as hard as a rock, so that was good. It was presented to the old guy, who sniffed seriously at it like a connoisseur with a vintage glass of wine. He took a tentative taste, savoring the small bite. A second later, he beamed like he'd just found Nirvana.
Someone filled all the mugs with the heady brew. "We will trade!" announced Tersen cheerfully. Gone was the Attila-the-Hun clone and in his place as a jolly Santa clone, albeit all in black. "It has been a decat's age since anyone has brought us a Cassonic cake as a token!"
"Uh yeah," agreed Sheppard readily. He had no idea if a decat was a small furry animal like a raccoon or an element of time. Instead, he nodded at the rest of his team, who took the hint and went along with his spiel. Mugs were passed to both Sheppard and McKay, who sat at the head of the table. "We wanted it to be special," he said with a smirk, albeit a tiny one.
"Drink!" ordered Tersen, who proceeded to guzzle down his mug.
McKay sniffed at, then hesitantly tasted it. "Hmm, this is good."
Sheppard couldn't argue the point. It was delicious, and hours of trying to talk Lubri into not killing them had left him parched as the Sahara. At this point, he'd even drink swamp water.
PART 4
"Don't worry, ma'am. We'll find them and bring them home." Major Lorne nodded efficiently at Dr. Weir. At least this time his men didn't return to base, only to have to turn around immediately to go to some planet to find out just where Sheppard's team had gotten lost.
But, he shared her concern. The team was several hours overdue. It was supposed to be a simple meet-and-greet trade mission but more often than not, simple often got complicated when Colonel Sheppard and his team passed through the gate. It hadn't helped that when Stackhouse's team came back with one of the Athosian guides in tow, that man had mentioned that the Lubri didn't take well to strangers anymore. Lorne just hoped that nobody had said anything insulting, grimacing slightly at the thought of McKay and his big mouth. It was Christmas morning, and nobody wanted the spectre of death or dying today. Even those on the base who didn't celebrate the holiday were looking forward to some down time and general cheer.
The gate began to dial up.
"Incoming wormhole," came the call from the communications center above.
Lorne and his men backed up to join the security team that surrounded the gate's perimeter. He motioned for Weir to find safety out of the line of fire.
"It's Teyla's IDC," came the next call-out.
"Finally," Lorne muttered gratefully under his breath. A few seconds later, Sheppard's team came through the horizon. Graceful, however, did not describe their entrance. Teyla was doing her best to support McKay, but the man tripped and went splat face-first on the ground. That had to hurt, but Lorne had the distinct feeling that the scientist was feeling absolutely no pain at all. Ditto for the colonel, who seemed capable of standing for a moment, but then slid down against Ronon to land on his butt. He collapsed backwards.
The gate shut off, leaving absolute silence and a lot of confusion.
Teyla smiled. Lorne recognized that look. His mother had used the same tired expression on him when he'd done something wrong.
"The mission was a success," she announced. She put a small satchel bag down on the floor near her feet.
Lorne couldn't wait to hear this story.
Weir ran up to where two of her key people were flat out on the floor. Rodney was laughing about something unintelligible and Sheppard looked like he'd just passed out, but the stark bruising on his face looked pretty serious. "Call Beckett," she said to Lorne, who quickly contacted the infirmary.
"He'll be fine," Ronon said dryly, placing a large satchel on the floor next to him. "Negotiations went well."
"Well?" Weir looked like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Even Lorne thought Sheppard looked like someone had slammed the one side of his face into the floor. Repeatedly.
"Oh, that." Ronon looked down at the bruising. He poked Sheppard in the side a couple times with his boot, rousing the man back to consciousness. Sheppard's eyes opened to slits, but focusing was taking a lot more effort. "That was from when they were about to chop his head off. He didn't want them to do that."
"They were going to do what?" Lorne sputtered.
Sheppard grabbed on to Ronon's leg and pulled himself into an awkward seated position. He wrapped his arms around the leg as though it were a tree. The Setedan just looked down in mild disgust, as if a slug had attached itself to him. "Shoulda seen the axe," Sheppard said with a definitely drunk grin. "It was this big!" He waved his arms outward, in the classic 'the fish was this big' boast, and promptly fell face forward, just a few feet from where McKay lay. "Hey, Rodney."
McKay blinked open owlish eyes to spy his team leader not far away, and remarkably, on the same level plain. "Have to find him!" he blurted.
"We'll put out an APB," laughed Sheppard. "Oh hey, I can see the floor from here."
"What's he talking about?" Lorne asked, looking for help from the two standing members of the team.
"McKay thinks someone is trying to kill him," replied Ronon. He shrugged as if it were nothing.
Weir looked down at the scientist, who was currently busy studying the fingers in front of his face as if trying to decide how many he possessed. She put one hand to her forehead in total exasperation.
"Apparently someone put a 'fruitcake' into his backpack," said Teyla.
"He's allergic to some kind of fruit," continued Ronon.
"As if we don't all know that," added Lorne, who then went back to standing at attention at Weir's semi-stern glance.
"To quote Dr. McKay. I will make a long story short," said Teyla, looking down in near pity at the two fallen men. "The Lubri have become paranoid in trading deals due to betrayals to the Wraith, and now exact a token with each deal. If a token is not offered, the traders are executed."
"With an axe," summarized Ronon.
Lorne looked down at the base's highest-ranking military officer, who looked like he was drifting back into a drunken stupor. However, Lorne did notice a very fine red line across part of Sheppard's neck. That must have been a very close call indeed.
"And their particular state of inebriation comes from…?" pondered Weir.
"The fruitcake," replied Ronon.
"Ronon, I know that the fruitcake contained some brandy, but hardly enough to cause this," replied Weir, obviously puzzled at the situation, showing a hint that she wasn't happy that half a team had come back more plastered than a bunch of frat boys after a Saturday night, but Lorne could see relief in her eyes: relief that they were alive. It overshadowed all the other problems. Lorne was just glad no wraith stunner bolts were coming through an open event horizon, or spears, or whatever aliens were prone toward tossing these days.
"The 'fruitcake' was considered to be a Cassonic cake, a much revered gift," explained Teyla. "We were instantly accepted as trading partners."
"Which must be celebrated with drink," finished Ronon, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Obviously quite a bit," said Lorne, adding "Just an observation, ma'am."
"And a very astute one," nodded Weir. "Why are the two of you still standing?"
"Only the negotiators," and Rodney pointed at the fallen men, "were allowed to drink. In fact, they had no choice." Ronon looked like he wished he'd been one of the negotiators.
"I see," murmured Elizabeth.
"I do not believe the Colonel realized the true strength of the ale," Teyla added in defense of Sheppard.
"Ah," responded Weir, obviously at a loss at what else to say.
Any further conversation was interrupted as Beckett's team came running in with two gurneys. Beckett immediately rushed over to the fallen men, expecting the worst. Lorne just stepped back, clearing the way for the medical personnel, who swarmed over Sheppard and McKay like ants over a picnic lunch.
A moment later, Beckett made his pronouncement, and he didn't sound at all happy. Perhaps it was because McKay was blowing into his stethoscope as if it were a musical instrument. "They're drunk, Elizabeth."
"Yes, Carson, we know that."
Beckett suddenly found himself pulled toward the floor. Sheppard had rolled over onto his back and now had both hands dug into the man's white lab coat. "Psst, Carson," he slurred with a laugh. "Someone's tryin' n' kill Rodney."
"You!" McKay suddenly accused, jabbing an arm toward Beckett. "You put the fruitcake in my computer!"
"Ach, just how much did they imbibe?" sighed Beckett. He stood up, directing his people to get the two men to the infirmary. The task turned out to be exceptionally easy to accomplish, as both men were so relaxed they could practically be poured onto the gurneys.
Ronon crossed his arms. "Enough that they'll regret it tomorrow morning, and probably the rest of the week."
"I'll say," agreed Weir. Lorne watched she as stood between the gurneys. She was very protective of her people. That was one thing Lorne had observed since coming to Atlantis - even when missions screwed up like this.
"Major." Sheppard waved an arm, accidentally smacking Beckett, who merely shoved the arm back down to the gurney.
Lorne came up beside the gurney. "Sir?" Oh man, the colonel was already developing one beauty of a shiner on the left side of his face. The bruising was a nasty collage of blue, green and purple.
"Party? Oh hey, are we in time?" Sheppard looked around the room, but the act seemed to make him dizzy so he shut his eyes.
Lorne exchanged a glance with Weir, and if he picked up correctly on her expression, he'd just been given permission to lie to his superior. "Sorry, sir, you missed it," said Lorne. In reality, it would start in about four hours.
"No!" wailed McKay, startling everyone. "We were gonna sing!"
"Perhaps next year," soothed Weir. She patted the somewhat distressed man on the shoulder.
Beckett looked down at Rodney and before Lorne could stop him, asked "And what were the two of 'ye going to sing?"
Lorne winced. Great, encourage McKay to talk! Or worse, sing!
A massive grin enveloped McKay's face. "Decollate the halls with bows of holly," he sang, or rather, emitted in a painfully off-key rendition.
"That's deck," corrected Sheppard smugly from his gurney.
"Nononono," McKay slurred in a rapid response. "Decollate, don' you get it?" he insisted. He tried to sit up on the gurney, but was quickly and easily shoved down by two medics, who immediately strapped him down. "Decollate. Ha, get it! It's so appro- appro—it's juss right!"
The argument continued and dissipated as the gurneys were taken out of view.
"Permission to stand down, ma'am?" inquired Lorne.
Weir, smiling as though everything was right in the universe, and in a way it was, nodded.
"Thank you, ma'am," replied Lorne with a nod. "No offense, but the doc's singing is a bit much to take." He caught both Teyla and Dex nodding their heads slightly. He wondered how much of the drunken men's nonsense they'd had to put with on the journey back to the gate.
"But at least he's maintained a good sense of humor about what almost happened," continued Weir.
"I do not understand," said Teyla.
Weir looked over at the woman's puzzled face. "Decollate means to behead."
"I see," replied Teyla, but Lorne got the feeling she didn't really get it, as heck, he didn't either.
Weir studied both Dex and Teyla carefully. "You're both all right?"
"It was very close," Teyla acknowledged in a more serious tone.
Dex nodded, adding, "But once you get to know the Lubri, they're pretty decent people."
Teyla simply rolled her eyes at that calm assessment. Lorne knew that Dex viewed things differently than the Athosian.
"If you will excuse us, Dr. Weir, Major Lorne," said Teyla. "We will go to the infirmary to check on how the colonel and Rodney are doing."
"Of course," replied Weir. "I'll be down shortly."
To be continued.. just one more part!