It was a wonder he hadn't thrown his back out.

He caught her watching him during the upswing. The result was over extension, because his distraction caused him to ignore his work, and his howe soared over his head much farther than it had any right to before he swung it down heavily, the pronged end lodging deep into the ground. It looked impressive, which was a good thing. The bad thing was he had to remained bent over it for a moment.

One thing Rodney hadn't counted on was being flustered by a beautiful woman. Well, okay, being flustered by beautiful women was one constant in life he could count on. But to see such self-possessed, radiant perfection here was unexpected. And she was sassy.

He liked sassy.

Unfortunately she seemed to be involved with Brouk, but he wasn't saying anything.

She was watching him with a gleam in her dark eyes, perspiration dotting her ebony skin, which was soft and perfect. Her brow was high, her hair braided tightly back. Her thin arms looked too delicate, yet she lifted loads he merely glared at. Her chin was raised. In a word, she was regal.

"So," she smiled as he straightened and popped his back with a groan, "you decided this work is suited to you after all?" The language rolled off her tongue like underwater waves.

"What, this?" He took the opportunity to gesture at the trench, and catch his breath. "I never said it wasn't. I merely said I wasn't used to it." He was a bit affronted. He thought he'd been doing rather well, provide his back didn't take a holiday.

"Then why you hold your howe like a mula spade?"

"Excuse me?"

She took the tool and adjusted his grip. "Now you try."

He did. And felt like an idiot.

She merely laughed and walked back to her work, her hips swinging.

"Women," he muttered, and started another aggressive back swing when a sudden yell startled him. He cried out and dropped the howe, collapsing to the side of the trench, clutching his chest and gasping for breath.

Sheppard tumbled into the trench, landing on his rear and sitting there, also trying to catch his breath. "You nearly took my head off!"

"And you nearly gave me a coronary! How the hell was I supposed to know you were up there?"

"You think my calling your name could be a clue?"

"Oh. I– I didn't hear you." Rodney pushed from the wall and quickly picked up his tool, stepping several paces away to resume his work.

Sheppard climbed to his feet, noticing a dark lady watching them with a smile on her face. He gave her a polite nod, and gave Rodney a knowing look. "You thinking about Lydya again?"

"And why would you say that?" He very pointedly did not look up.

"Because she's watching you." He leaned against the side, smiling at the woman and giving a little finger wave.

"Oh please, you're so juvenile." He slapped Sheppard's hand down. "Don't do that!"

"Hey, you're the one who thought a Wraith woman was hot."

"She was hot, and she wasn't a Wraith, not really, because. . .look, what do you want? Don't you have to sling dirt somewhere?"

"Sand, and yes, and so do you. Seems the higher ups are impressed with out efforts." He smiled. "We're being transferred."

Rodney straightened and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Oh yeah? Where to?"

"Well, it's – it's a trench . . ."

Rodney growled and resumed digging.

"But it's right beside the cavern, so it's cooler."

"You and your damned optimism. You know," Rodney planted his tool and regarded Sheppard, "If they had just listened to our theory . . ."

"About water shooting up from the ground."

"Yes! It's perfectly plausible!"

"I'm not arguing! But they want proof. And asking to go to the jumper to go get proof probably wasn't the smartest idea!"

"It's not like we were going to escape!"

"They don't know that!"

"I don't believe this. What does it take to get some trust around here?"

"What does it take to get some work around here?" Two men had approached them, and was listening to the conversation from behind.

Rodney sighed, his shoulders dropping, and turned. "What difference does it make? This trench is dug. Excavated. Scooped out, grubbed, smoothed to a fine glassy polish. In fact I bet if you angle a concave lens in just the right spot you'll have a glass furnace." He turned back to Sheppard, and felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"No excuse to stop working."

"Oh, and just what are you, dig-dug patrol?"

It was the wrong thing to say. Rodney grunted loudly as he suddenly found himself face first against the wall, with a hand held tool pricking the back of his neck.

"Hey!" he heard Sheppard snap, and managed to turn his head to see the other man holding his own tool at his friend's chest. Sheppard looked angry, his eyes darting from the tool aimed at him to Rodney. Rodney tried to away, and stopped at the pain that stabbed the back of his neck.

"Look," he rasped, "there's no need for this. We'll get back to work. No more trouble from me, okay?"

But it wasn't enough. The man leaned down on him, his breath tickling Rodney's ear. "You've been talking with Lydya again."

"She talked to me."

"You stay away from her. She is an important woman. You leave her be."

"So important she stays in the trenches?" He gasped as the tool was jabbed into his neck.

"She supervises. She is with Brouk. You will leave her alone, do you understand?"

Sure. In fact, he was wondering where she was, for that matter, where anybody was. The usually crowded trench was deserted. He didn't dare glance at Sheppard, but knew he was there, motionless, waiting.

The weight eased. Rodney gasped in relief and turned to lean against the wall, but was stopped by a familiar touch. "Hey, wait. The back of your neck's bleeding a little, don't get this sand in it." Sheppard hand was firm on his arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Peachy." He eyed the two men angrily as they walked off. "Wonder what the hell that was about?"

"I guess the Queen of Nubia has bodyguards and neglected to tell us." He winced. "Christ, this hurts!"

"Let's get you to Brouk. He'll know someone that can patch you up."

Rodney nodded. "Need more of that glop for my face, too. I can feel it burning again." His voice was a brave whimper.

Sheppard fished in his robe and pulled out a tiny glass jar. "Use this for today. I've got more." He frowned behind Rodney's back, examining the small puncture wounds caused by the prongs on the miniature howe. "Come on, let's go."

"Our shift isn't over." He was slapping the goop onto his red face. The sunburn was bad enough. Last thing he needed was for those goons to track him down and do some real damage. He could fee the blood run slowly down his upper back, tickling disturbingly.

Sheppard signaled with his eyes. "Do you see anyone here?"

Rodney looked. The trench was empty, the silky sides catching the light like a much needed breath. "Good point." He staggered to the ladder and climbed out, with Sheppard right behind him.

--------------------------------------

Brouk was livid, which was a scary sight. His dark eyes sunk in on themselves, burning like coals. "Which men did this? This behavior is not acceptable!" His voice was low and angry, and not so melodic.

"I don't know, I was too busy studying grains of sand up close and personal. I know they were tall and dark." Rodney noticed the look of disdain. "What can I say? You all look alike."

"This is no joke."

"Does this look funny to you?" Rodney pulled away the cloth, revealing three inflamed sores.

Brouk placed his hand on Rodney's shoulder. "I really am sorry. But you will soon be away from that place."

"Yeah, into another trench. Maybe this one'll have a better view and a wet bar." He sighed and dropped the cloth into his lap. "We've been here nearly a week, according to my watch, which incidentally was the only thing left to me. Isn't that time enough to prove our worth?" And where the hell was the rescue team?

Brouk was apparently thinking the same. "Your people have not come for you."

Rodney smirked. "Yeah, thanks for noticing."

"You must not be as important as you thought."

Rodney's mouth worked, and Sheppard chose this moment to step into the conversation.

"It's possible there's been some sort of malfunction, or delay. I'm sure they'll make contact as soon as they are able."

"You have a lot of faith in those that abandon you."

He decided to let the statement go. "I don't suppose it's possible that there could be something here that disrupts communications?" he asked, perfectly innocently.

"You'd think with all the glassiness, we be surrounded by conductors," Rodney muttered. A look crossed his face, one of extreme thought, and Sheppard wondered what was processing.

He stood. "Thanks for the help. I don't suppose you mind if Rodney takes the rest of the day off, seeing as how it's near shift's end." He noticed Rodney's sharp glare, and ignored it.

"It would be fine, given the circumstance."

Sheppard grabbed hold of Rodney's elbow and guided him up. "Thanks." He gave a polite smile, and ushered his friend out of the tent.

The sky was darkening at a rather alarming rate. The two men looked up at the same time, each noticing the large moon rising in the distance, oddly lined. It was such a natural event for both of them that at first they took no notice. But slowly, it sunk in. "Clouds," Rodney said in wonderment. "Not many, but there they are."

Sheppard rested his hands on his hips and watched the moon rise through the wisps. "So you've got a direction for your search, at least." He jerked his head at the tent behind them. "What were you thinking back there?"

"Hm? Oh, just wondering what those tunnels are really for. I mean, it's easy to see how they passed water through them like sand through a sieve, the smoothness is evidence of that, but if used properly, and insulated, and made much smaller, yeah okay a hell of a lot smaller, they could prove valuable as a source of power transference. It would take a lot of adjustment, but it could be done." He noticed he was walking alone, and turned back. "What?"

Sheppard was staring. "This is a result of sunstroke, right?"

"It was just a thought! Since when are we penalized for thoughts?"

"Too much sun. Need to get you a turban." Sheppard shouldered past.

"I didn't say I was going to do it! I didn't even say it could definitely be done, I just said it as a random thought that passed through my head, and by the way, you asked! So blame yourself!"

"Pipe down, will ya? I'm sorry I asked."

Rodney started a retort, and winced, hesitating in his step. Sheppard was at his side in a moment.

"See? Got yourself all worked up, now calm down . . . look, here we are." He pulled back the flap to Rodney's tent.

"You're worse than a mother hen. But I guess it's kinda nice," Rodney groused, and collapsed onto his bed. It squeaked and threatened to buckle.

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment." He hovered in the doorway. "I'm gonna go get us some food, and I expect to see you laying down, not up and pouring over those maps."

"No, no, of course not." Rodney threw a arm over his eyes, and was still.

Sheppard walked out, noticing a bit more bustle than he was accustomed to. It wasn't a panic, more like a surprise party were the guest were ecstatic because the victim was coming up the walk. He pulled a man aside, one he recognized but couldn't put a name to. "What's going on?"

The man looked at him like he was a fool, then pointed up. "Sarra. Rain." A huge grin overtook his small face, and he jogged on his way.

"Rain," he muttered, and looked behind him. The moon was now sliced in half by clouds as dark as the midnight sky. Another man jostled him, a woman grazed by with an apology. He didn't care. He found himself walking backwards as he gazed upward, his steps quickening, and he turned into a run, finding himself at Brouk's tent right as the tall man emerged. He gently pushed Sheppard aside and stared at the sky. "It comes. And it come early!"

"This is good, right?"

"For now, yes." His focus turned to the people. He watched with the intensity of one overseeing crucial activities, and grabbed Sheppard by the shoulder. "I require your assistance."

"Sure."

"Before rains comes a windstorm. It is enough to blow all of the tents away. We have but a few hours."

Sheppard frowned, looking at the tents that made up the settlement. "What do I need to do?"

"Non-essential must come down. Others are secured."

"Non-essential being . . ."

"Most of the settlement."

"Not very encouraging, is it?"

"We have but a few hours." He started off, but Sheppard caught him.

"Wait, wait, wait, where do we go when this storm hits?"

"Follow the people. We have a shelter." Brouk hurried off, barking orders, some understood, some alien to him.

"I'll never understand this galaxy," he muttered, and rushed back to his own tent.