Technical issues. Bare with me. Chapters 4 and 5 have been combined because they belong together, like peanut butter and jelly, Peanut butter and fluff; brown bread and beans.
Part 4
The city contained four cobblestone streets that stretched out from the central well in the basic four compass directions of the planet. Squat, granite blocked buildings stood side by side, looming over the narrow byways. Windows banged in their panes, sounding like fragile glass that would shatter with the slightest gale. Candles and sconces flickered on inner walls as the persistent wind bled its way through cracks and seams.
They breathed a collective sigh of relief as they left the stretching confines of the thick forest and entered the 'city'.
The streets were desolate, the populace hiding within the sturdy confines of their stone dwellings. Curious faces peered out behind flimsy curtains, at the strangers that dared walk the streets on a stormy night.
The sudden harsh deluge of a raw fall rainstorm had the team tucking their chins in closer to their chests and hunching their shoulders up around their ears. The fat droplets of rain teetered on the biting edge of frost and snow. It drove icy teeth through off world clothing, goose bumping flesh and leaching heat from those caught in the abrasive wind which scoured the stone lined street. Rain pelted them with punishing intensity.
The five shuffled against the wind, holding weapons close to their torsos with painfully pink chapped fingers. With chins tucked in tight to their chests and hats pulled low over furrowed brows, the small group traveled up through the city byways. As a group, they weaved through the empty streets whose gutters ran with near freezing water and chunks of aberrant manure from various questionable species.
Without question, the four followed the fifth, past small, short, heavy stoned buildings with windows that glowed soft yellow with the promise of drafty warmth and questionable dryness.
Teyla's helpful suggestion that perhaps they rest here for the night was met with a heavy silence. They were tired, cold and wet. They wanted nothing more than to be safely home under the comforting glow of Atlantis. They wanted nothing more than to dry out, wear clean clothing and indulge in hot showers. However, fear of what destroyed the villages and stories of the Howler kept them silent.
The threat of the mysterious beast seemed to dissipate with each step that drew them closer to the city center. Their steps became a little lighter, grips loosened on weapons and the familiar banter slowly began to sound off.
As they wound their way through the cobbled streets in the torrential rain, the group began to relax a little.
"Carson here sounds like he needs a doctor," McKay gleefully slapped the physician on the shoulder spraying water from the saturated coat and forcing the Scot to stutter a step forward. "Too bad you don't have a healthy constitution like mine, huh, Carson?"
Carson's retort was lost under a harsh cough.
"What was that?" Rodney asked holding his hand up to his ear. "I can't hear you over all that coughing."
Beckett simply glared at the astrophysicist, and then a slow menacing smile quirked his upper lip.
It made Sheppard shudder. Scientists were a scary lot.
The team trudged on through the deserted streets. Stomachs growled over the constant patter of pelting rain.
Beckett's cough rattled his burning chest and brought tears to his eyes. Sheppard shared a concerned look with McKay who shrugged with a 'what can I do?' look.
In the center of the stone commonwealth, near the well which lay upstream of the livery and houses of questionable repute, stood a tavern, the only tavern within the confines of the sham city.
It was decided they'd stop here before determining if they were going to risk trekking the last two miles to the Stargate. They'd warm up, get dry, and hope the weather cleared without finding any trouble.
All eyes fell to Dr. Beckett who sighed and tossed his hands into the air.
You find yourself in one little altercation on a completely different planet and you get labeled for life.
As a group, they paused while their point man shouldered open the thick wooden door, which swung easily on solid wrought iron hinges.
The door swung open and a wall of heat hit them like a heavy stage curtain. Those in back pushed the ones in front forward. The sudden blast of heavy warmth and the murmur of voices were too much and caution was forfeited as the group pushed and jostled its way into the building and into the promise of enveloping heat.
They herded themselves out of the blustery cold of a dark fall rain and into the deafening silence of an off world tavern.
The silence hung as heavily and thick as the warmth that swathed the newcomers.
A large wall fire, surrounded by massive boulders mortared together with M3X-808's version of cement, or perhaps concrete, protected the wide board hard wood floor which had become warped with age and relentless tread.
Dried mud dust hid the natural grain and gave the floor a texture of sand and grit.
Patrons paused in lifting their ale to their lips, cut their sentences off abruptly as heads turned to stare at the five off worlders.
A few of the five smiled halfheartedly and offered small muted waves. They were met with impassive stony silence.
The patrons stared at them under heavy, dark eyebrows and weather beaten faces. Calloused hands, forged by a lifetime of labor, tightened around thick glass mugs and sturdy wooden bowls.
Three of the five darkly dressed off worlders returned their gazes while one fixated on the bar and the other stared at the monstrous fire.
A cast iron cauldron hung over the fire, its twisted iron handle hung from a metal rod as thick as a workingman's forearm. Heavy gloves hung from one end with empty and dubiously clean bowls stacked at an angle to rival the great tower of Pisa. No hint of utensils were to be seen.
McKay eyed the bowls and then the cook pot and swallowed. He could feel his heart begin to race, his limbs and cheeks begin to tingle as his stomach clenched. It had been hours since they had last eaten and the sapping rain did nothing to decrease his demand for energy. His hands shook within the wet confines of his coat as a cold sweat broke out between his shoulder blades at the anticipation of a meal.
He felt his irritability climb, matching his sudden explosive need to eat something. He felt like an addict needing a hit. He despised his hypoglycemia at times.
McKay stepped around Sheppard with every intention of beating Ronon the Behemoth to the promise of warmed stew or soup. McKay truly did not care what lay within the pot; as long as it was dead and didn't stare back at him, he was willing to try it.
He brushed past Beckett, knocking into the Doctor's shoulder and jostling him. It earned the astrophysicist an angry warning growl, which McKay heeded and muttered an apology. He had no intentions of being on the receiving end of the Scotsman's true ire, especially in a tavern.
Rodney wove his way through the tables, ignoring the blatant stares of the inhabitants of this little out of the way medieval world.
There was no ZPM waiting to be discovered so there was really no use in getting to know them.
The only energy to be found was from the backs of those that labored in the muddied fields and forest in attempts to eek out a meager existence.
Sheppard and Teyla followed McKay through the tavern, winding their way between tables and patrons, hoping not to offend anyone and praying no one found offense with them.
Sheppard prayed McKay kept his mouth shut just this once.
Sheppard didn't fear whether or not his team could hold their own if fisticuffs should arise, however, his hands were ice cold, his limbs felt brittle and swapping punches seemed like too much effort with too little return.
Besides he was as hungry and as tired as the rest of his group, perhaps save Rodney, who had an appetite that would choke a thousand small gerbils. The man was a machine when it came to groceries.
The three made their way to a table near the cook pot, no surprise there, Rodney was, after all, leading the way.
Sheppard left it up to Ronon to ride herd on the Scotsman. This screamed of deja-vu.
The colonel smiled at a few people, tipped his head in greeting and wished Rodney would stop walking and take the first empty table available.
McKay finally settled on a large round table near the fire.
"About damn time," Sheppard muttered when Rodney eventually dropped into a chair, which kept him faced into the fireplace and cooking pot.
Sheppard nodded in appreciation. McKay was an astounding genius in astrophysics and impressive in many more subjects, but he had been proving his ability to learn and learn quickly about things pertaining to survival with refreshing alacrity.
Beckett and McKay would sit with their backs to the room and the majority of the people leaving, Ronon, Sheppard and Teyla with an almost unobstructed view of the place and the single door.
Sheppard took his seat and smiled at the patrons that blatantly stared at them from the next table over. "Howdy, nice night," he offered as he took his seat. The patrons didn't respond and continued to stare.
He shrugged and worked to peel his SGA issued vest and jacket from his sodden back.
Their attention was diverted by a thickly muttered curse as Ronon 'guided' the doctor to the table by the back of his coat collar. Beckett muttered darkly about the Runner's lineage and lack of manners. His words were garbled and jumbled, muffling their articulation, however, his tone carried enough bite to send the message that he was more than just passingly displeased with being manhandled.
"Sit down, Carson," Rodney said leaning forward in his chair trying to get as close to the fire as possible without bursting into flames himself. Steam spiraled from his drenched coat.
"Drinks will be ready in a few moments," Ronon stated forcing the physician to sit.
Carson was about to snap another retort but was stopped by Sheppard's, "Can't afford having you fall into another all-out brawl. Weir was pretty upset about the last one."
Blue eyes flashed to the colonel in denial. The pink flush that had warmed Beckett's face for the last two days darkened. A thick hoarse comment was started, but tapered off as the Scot lost his voice. His mumbled a short action sentence involving a lewd act not typically spoken of in polite company. It clearly conveyed his ire.
The group sat quietly at the table, feeling the eyes of the room boring into them. Teyla smiled calmly to the others, hoping they could ignore the building tension.
Ronon surveyed the room keeping the others within his periphery. McKay stared at the hanging pot.
Beckett pushed his chair back, scraping it against the warped floor boards. "Drinks."
"Don't cause any trouble Doc," Sheppard warned.
"Lad, I--," His voice cut out, "raised--- place like--," Carson croaked. "The people -- simple folk -- break from -- everyday." Beckett's raspy voice faded to a breathless sigh. He held his forehead for a second closing his eyes and then turned and headed toward the standing bar that extended part way down the far wall.
"Trouble's going to find him," Rodney stated, "Or am I the only one who remembers the last time he went to get drinks?"
Sheppard and Teyla both nodded in agreement and started to rise.
"I will go," Ronon stated and pushed himself from the table and followed the doctor to the bar.
Teyla and Sheppard both settled back into their seats.
"Oh, that will so not help," Rodney muttered and slid down in his chair with a heavy sense of doom.
Sheppard was about to follow the Runner, and send Ronon and Carson back to their table. However, the serving girl, in a short sleeve ruffled white blouse and a dangerously low hung neckline had him sitting back down.
Beckett was probably right, these were just simple people looking to relax and stay out of the weather.
Teyla stared from the two men at her table to the serving girl and smiled tolerantly as the girl leaned over their table with a bit of exaggeration, placing hot bread in the center. She smiled sweetly at Rodney who failed to pull heavy eyes up from her vest lifted bust line to her startling yellow iris eyes. She was a blonde, though Teyla was unsure if McKay's eyes traveled that far upward.
Sheppard simply swallowed.
"Can I get you all something?" Her voice lilted quietly over the table and the low din of the room.
"Milk?" Rodney whimpered.
Sheppard slapped him off the back of the head.
Teyla sighed heavily, "Yes, five bowls of whatever you have cooking," she stated, indicating with a slight tilt of her head to the cooking pot resting over the flames of the central fire pit.
The blonde smiled graciously, quietly pleased with the effects her physical attributes had on the newcomers. She straightened up and headed toward the cauldron, winking at the regular patrons that watched her every move.
The astrophysicist watched her sashay away, but managed to pull his eyes from her other bulbous features when a sturdy kick to the shin under the table drew his attention. He gave Sheppard an impatient glare, but the Colonel merely raised his eyebrows in innocence and cocked his head to Teyla who stared at the two men with an amused glare.
McKay smiled weakly and let his eyes travel to the bar, searching out Ronon and Carson.
He found them.
Carson leaned heavily against the bar top rubbing at his forehead. Ronon stood beside him, picking at the palm of his hand with one of his throwing knives.
A large forester made himself comfortable at the bar and roughly shouldered Beckett out of his way.
Carson merely slid down the bar forcing Ronon to move a step.
"We've got trouble," McKay muttered as he turned his attention from the bar to the Colonel. "Why do you make him go off world again?"
"Shut up, Rodney," the colonel muttered, watching the antics at the bar and feeling as if he had already lived this nightmare.
Sheppard leaned forward in his chair and watched the two across the room. With an angry growl, he started to push himself to his feet. Couldn't Ronon and Beckett go anywhere without causing trouble? The colonel had already sworn off pairing McKay and Beckett together. He had hoped that the fiasco in the last tavern had been a matter of bad circumstances coming to a head at an inopportune time. Now, however, the colonel came to realize that Ronon, Beckett and taverns were just a bad mix. They were something akin to gasoline and flames.
"I will go," Teyla stated, pushing herself from the table, smiling patiently at the colonel and turning on her heel before Sheppard had a chance to order to her to stay.
The colonel held his tongue and let the Athosian go. Teyla was a much better diplomat than himself, and if it came to another furniture smashing brawl, Teyla was much better at hand to hand combat. Sheppard was more of a shoot'em and leave kind of guy.
"What is it with those two?" Sheppard muttered to himself as he watched Teyla smoothly insinuate herself between Beckett and the forester that wanted his attention.
Sheppard never saw Teyla pull the knife from the sheath at her waist band, never saw her slip it neatly up against the other man's abdomen, however, Sheppard did see her sweet toothy smile and the steely glint in her eyes.
The smile with the steady gaze was proof enough she had pulled a weapon and was explaining the difficulties that would arise should something amiss occur to one of her teammates.
Sheppard wasn't sure if Beckett would feel insulted at having a woman come to his aid, but knowing the doc, he didn't think Carson would care, especially if said woman was Teyla.
What amazed Sheppard the most was that the forester did not glance over Teyla's shoulder to look at the Runner who smiled at him like a hungry wolf would a lame deer.
The broad chested man kept his eyes firmly locked on the diminutive lithe figure in the deep grey uniform and an ice cold, amazingly white toothed smile.
The forester backed away, hands held out to his side in a placating gesture and left the three off worlders at the bar alone.
The rest of the inhabitants of the tavern seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and settled more easily into their chairs, tucked in closer to their steaming bowls of stew and chased any ill will away with deep draughts of ale.
Teyla snagged Dr. Beckett's upper arm and gave him the same intense smile and quietly urged him to their table without the added prompting of her blade.
Sheppard watched as Beckett sighed, scooped up five ales and headed back to their table. He paused when a barrage of coughs rattled through his chest and forced him to tuck his chin in close to his shoulder and raise the ales away from any potential airborne particles.
It didn't seem terribly effective. Sheppard wasn't that thirsty anyway.
The three continued to the table and Beckett put the thick glasses in the center and once again tucked his chin in close to his shoulder and turned his body and coughed heavily.
"Carson, that is just gross," Rodney whined, "did you have to cough all over the glasses?" McKay eyed the mugs warily trying to pick which ever one might have less contaminants on it. "That's disgusting, Carson. You've gone and polluted them all."
Beckett sat down heavily in his chair, his eyes watering and cheeks a deeper rosy color. He took Rodney's mug from the astrophysicist's hand and wiped the rim with the inner part of his sleeve. "There you go Rodney, all clean."
"I'm going to be ill," Rodney muttered.
Beckett's retort died on his lips as the young serving girl returned and leaned forward and started placing bowls in front of them.
"Shut your mouth, Carson," Rodney ordered with an air of superiority. "You're going to collect flies."
"Aye," Beckett mumbled, forgetting about his ale and ignoring his dinner as his eyes focused on the sagging neck line of the blonde girl.
"You two have to get out more," Sheppard softy stated to both scientists as the serving girl straightened, smiled at the men, scowled at Telya and left their table.
"Give it up doc," Sheppard shook his head. "She's not your type."
"Yeah, she's breathing," McKay explained.
Part 5
Teyla seamlessly interrupted the fast approaching, quick paced verbal duel before it had a chance to begin, "Perhaps it is best if we get rooms here for the night and travel the rest of the way to gate tomorrow." She did not think that the Lanteans respected the beliefs of other civilizations as seriously as they should. They, at times, believed too heavily in their own infallibility when dealing with cultures less advanced then their own. They tended to humor others less technologically developed, and dismissed cultural stories as mythical and unbelievable. It was a trait she feared would one day land them into much trouble.
"Oh please, you do not seriously believe that some beast roams the woods at night and eats people. There has got to be a perfectly good scientific explanation," Rodney dismissed and then paused a thoughtful look crossed his face before softly adding, "of course, I never would have believed anything about green skinned, space ship flying creatures that suck the life out of you with their hands either." He stopped and stared at the others before looking to the Colonel. "Perhaps we should stay the night."
"No roo--," Beckett's voice was lost under another bout of coughing that had him pushing away from the table and tucking his head with one hand up covering his mouth as the other gripped the edge of the table.
"The city is full," Ronon finished as the others watched and waited until Beckett finally straightened up, with unshed tears in bloodshot eyes. He slid back into the table and his bowl of stew.
"That could explain the empty villages we found," Teyla stated softly.
"Protection?" Beckett offered as way of an explanation. Perhaps the inhabitants of surrounding villages filtered into the small city on the nights the creature stalked the forest.
"You sure you're alright, Doc?" Sheppard asked.
"Of course he's not all right," Rodney interrupted Beckett as the Scotsman nodded his head. "Look at him. He looks like something Biro should be working on," McKay pointed out to the others and then turned his attention to the doctor. "Didn't they teach you anything in that voodoo school of yours about protection against contagions?"
"McKay," Sheppard warned seeing the put upon expression that marred Beckett's flushed features.
"I'm just saying, you'd think that the Chief Medical Officer would know how to protect himself from some harmless little bug."
"Doesn't look harmless," Ronon observed.
"It is not," Teyla added. "I believe it is from the smoke in the huts. They burn waste, it taints their lungs."
Sheppard arched an eyebrow at Beckett. The CMO merely shrugged his shoulders. He had no idea but it sounded like a good working hypothesis.
"You're not coughing," Ronon pointed out.
"I was not in huts as often or as long," Teyla clarified.
"Too bad, Carson, you don't have a strong constitution like myself and the colonel here," McKay boasted.
"Oh, don't drag me into this," Sheppard warned, leaning back in his chair putting some distance between himself and McKay.
The quiet conversation at the table was interrupted as a tall heavily muscled, middle-aged man stood behind Beckett's chair. "May I join you?" His grey hair and white whiskers were in shocking contrast to his wind burned face and deep yellow eyes. He kept an easy smile that refused to reveal any teeth. His clothes were well worn and threadbare but appeared well cared for.
All eyes turned to Sheppard who merely offered an open palm in invitation to the spot between Carson and Teyla. The man ignored the offered space and pulled a chair to the opposite side of the table beside Ronon and Sheppard. He too preferred to keep his back to the fire and face the door and windows.
"I am Linus,"
"Linus? Linus Pauling, perhaps?" McKay smirked unable to help himself, or bother hiding his sarcasm. He flinched when a boot connected solidly with his shin.
"I was thinking Linus Van Pelt of Charlie Brown," Sheppard murmured.
"You shouldn't think," McKay rebutted.
"I do no know a Charlie Brown," Linus answered slightly confused and a little more wary of the strangers. "I am Linus of the Brood of Wellox we are from the Western reaches of the forest."
"Don't mind him. We haven't house broke him yet for polite company," Sheppard said, titling his head toward McKay. "What can we help you with?" The colonel's smile remained open while he kept a foot ready under the table to kick McKay again if necessary.
"You are strangers here," Linus's statement almost had the intonation of a question.
"Observant," McKay's comment earned him a second kick.
"Yeah," Sheppard agreed, "we're from far off land." The colonel tried to ignore McKay's eye roll, knowing Linus was well aware of it.
Beckett's sudden bout of coughing pulled attention from the astrophysicist.
"You've been to the villages," Linus spoke directly to Carson who gripped the table one handed and doubled over, coughing into his fisted other hand. The muscles and blood vessels of his neck strained against taught skin as the bout of coughing continued. Tears glistened the corners of his closed eyes.
Beckett nodded, but Teyla answered, "Yes, Dr. Beckett is a healer. He tried to help some of the villagers."
"You spent too much time in the huts," Linus stated as Beckett straightened, hauling in a quick breath rubbing ruefully at his chest just before a second round of fiery coughs stole his wind.
Linus watched nodding knowingly, "They burn poison in their fires. The smoke slowly kills them so the Howler will not."
The table was quiet just for a moment before Rodney suddenly spoke up, "Whoa, whoa wait a minute, Carson here isn't going to die…right?" McKay turned his worried, wide eyes from their guest to Beckett. Carson's coughing had finally tapered off and he slowly straightened up, wiping tears from blood shot eyes.
"You're not dying. Right?"
"Ach, No, Rodney, not yet," Carson mumbled reaching a shaky hand for his ale. His throat burned sending tendrils of discomfort from his chest to his ears.
"He's not dying," Rodney turned his attention and fear fueled anger back at Linus.
"No, not now, but the poison is in his lungs. It sits." Linus directed his attention to the healer. "You are lucky. You will be safe from the Howler this night."
"What is this Howler?" Teyla's concerned question was softened by her congenial smile.
"It is a creature of the forest. It roams on the quarter moon. It devours any who venture into the forest."
"Yeah, we heard all that, saw signs of it a few days ago," Sheppard stated, then added, "just how long does the quarter moon last?"
"Five daily cycles," Linus informed. "It attacks only the healthy. It leaves the sick to die on their own." He stared pointedly at Beckett who rested his head heavily in his hand and ran his spoon uninterestedly through his soup.
"Well, we're pretty good at taking care of ourselves," Sheppard offered with a crooked smirk and slightly forced bravado. He shared a confident look with Ronon.
McKay's incredulous squeak earned him a third kick to the shin.
"We noticed a lot of the villages were empty, looked like the Howler might have attacked one of them," Sheppard said, pulling Linus's attention away from McKay who now leaned forward against the table and rubbed at his shin.
"Why do you not form hunting bands and track this creature down and kill it?" Ronon's question held undisguised disgust and confusion. People should face their monsters and demons and not hide from them.
"Some of the villagers flee their homes and seek protection within our city walls," Linus spoke quietly, wrapping his hands around his mug, "but others, those who are cursed, enter into the forest and undergo the change. Only the strongest survives to hunt the forest on the quarter moon."
"Oh wait just one second," McKay sat up. "Are you telling me some of those pathetic villagers actually go into the woods and become this creature?"
The Lanteans all stared at Linus.
"Some become Howlers, but only one will survive to hunt the forest."
"People actually transform…" Beckett's voice faded out. His red rim eyes almost glazed over at the thought of the genetics involved. The possibility of obtaining tissue, DNA samples and extracting sequences and studying them was fascinating.
"We've lost him," McKay muttered to Sheppard as the astrophysicist watched Beckett. The Colonel merely nodded, waiting for Linus's answer.
"Yes." Linus nodded understanding what the healer was trying to say. "You are safe; however, you carry the poison of the fires in your lungs. The Howler will not eat your flesh."
"Oh great, Wheezy here, is safe to die another day while the rest of use are walking entrees…soft on the outside, chewy and crunchy on the inside. I've been reduced to a Snicker's bar."
"McKay," Sheppard said tiredly, "relax, we're not going anywhere. We'll wait 'til light before we head out."
"You are not safe here. There is no room for you. You are strangers and will not get shelter from those within the city. You must leave."
"What?" McKay asked, startled. "You just told us that the forest is full of these Howler creatures that are going to rip us to shreds and eat us, minus Carson, and we can't stay here?"
"You, you would not be eaten," Linus stated quite confidently. "The Howler attacks and feeds on warriors. It destroys the strongest and the fittest. It leaves the weak and sick to die on their own." He made eye contact with McKay and then Beckett, "you two will survive to die another day, maybe."
"Look, we'll just we stay right here---keep out of everyone's way and," Sheppard stared pointedly at Beckett, "not cause any trouble and wait for morning." He found no solace in the idea that only the two doctors would survive this night.
"You are not welcomed." Linus leaned forward staring intently at the strangers. "When the rain breaks, you will be forced to leave." Linus turned his attention to the rest of the inhabitants of the tavern. The members of SGA-1 followed his gaze and found the rest of the occupants staring at them with ill will and primitive, but effective, weapons suddenly within view. Linus turned his attention back to the table's occupants. "Outsiders are not welcomed during the cycle of the quarter moon. It is better that strangers get eaten by the Howler than our own."
"We can defend ourselves against you," Teyla pointed out kindly.
"We will kill you all. Even if all of us," Linus indicated the patrons of the tavern, "fall to your weapons, you will die this evening, even your non-warriors. You will not live through the night if you remain within the city. You are not welcomed. When the weather breaks, you are free to go. Try your fate at reaching the Ring of Water. You will not survive here." Linus pushed himself from his chair and stood.
Beckett started another bout of powerful coughs.
"He's not going to die, right?" Sheppard asked as Beckett bowed forward, the top of his head resting against the edge of the table as deep muscle tearing coughs wracked his frame. The back of his neck turned a deep shade of crimson as strap muscles and ligaments stood taut under flushed skin.
"No, the poison is cleared after sometime if one leaves the huts." He stared at Beckett, "You are better to keep moving to allow the lungs to clear." Linus picked up his ale, and straightened. "But once the poison abates, a person is no longer protected from the Howler." Linus smiled tightly. "When the weather breaks, you must leave or you will die here tonight---all of you."
Ronon snarled and seemed ready to face the tavern and its occupants head on, right then and there, and Teyla, with lip curled in disgust, appeared willing to follow his or Sheppard's lead whoever should act first.
"Thanks for the friendly tip. We'll keep it in mind." Sheppard smiled with plastic friendliness and waved.
Linus left their table and filtered back across the room to the far end of the standing bar.
The occupants of the tavern stared at the table of strangers for only a few silent seconds before returning to their meals and conversations.
"Well that was informative," McKay muttered.
"Dr. Beckett?" Teyla inquired with some concern to the now silent physician who sat with his head down on the edge of the table. Carson simply raised his hand and dismissively waved at the table in general indicating he was okay.
"Say something and we'll leave you alone, doc," Sheppard ordered in a no-nonsense tone.
"Fine---I'm fine," Beckett's harsh rasp grated across the table, though he had yet to lift his head.
"Oh that's believable," McKay muttered disgustedly.
Carson slowly sat up, his face deep red and his eyes tearing. He tucked in carefully to the table.
"The Wraith would not find you appetizing," Ronon quietly observed.
Beckett smiled a sarcastic 'thank-you' at the runner and sipped his ale.
Teyla stared at the thick windows on the far wall and listened to the rain lash against the glass. "The storm will break soon. We must decide what to do for the night."
"Doc, you good enough to hoof it back to the gate tonight?" Sheppard asked.
"Ay---," Beckett rasped as his voice once again faded.
"Why are you asking him? Look at him!" Rodney gesticulated with his hands. "He looks like shit, he's not thinking right. There's some creature roaming around the woods at night, emptying out forests, slinging horses and dogs into trees and sucking the marrow out of bones---and you ask the one person in our group with hardly any off world experience and probably some fungus growing in his lungs what he wants to do?" McKay's incredibility was easily seen and heard.
Sheppard looked to Beckett and then to McKay. "Yup."
"The human was in the tree," Ronon clarified. "The little creature was on the roof of the hut and ground."
McKay tossed his hands up into the air. "This is great. We're doomed. Doomed. Some saliva slinging monster is going to rip us to shreds, and suck the marrow from our bones like Pixy Stix, but not to worry, Colonel Sheppard and Fungus Lung here, want to go home."
"I agree with fungus lungs," Ronon informed.
Beckett moaned in disgust and cradled his head in his hands. He closed his eyes and could feel the trapped heat of a low-grade fever. After a slight pause, he lowered his head to his crossed forearms and rested them on the edge of the table. He relished the dry heat of the fire.
"There is no place to stay," Teyla re-iterated.
"See, McKay, all settled. We finish eating and head for the gate," Sheppard smiled wisely at the astrophysicist and dug into his meal.
"This is a bad idea," McKay muttered loud enough for all at his table to hear him.
"Listen, McKay, we can't stay. Even if we did survive a fight in here, there's a whole city that will be gunning for us. We don't have enough munitions to take on a whole city," Sheppard paused and then added, "unless you want to rally around the 'Alamo'?"
McKay shot Sheppard a scathing look and softly added, "This is a galactic sized stupid idea."
Sheppard hesitated in bringing his spoon to his lips and contemplated the disgusted and worried look of one very serious Rodney McKay.
The colonel felt his resolve waiver.
McKay was rarely wrong. Maybe they should remember the Alamo.