The caverns were . . . caverns. There was nothing really alien-esque about them, not yet anyway, except that they seemed very, very dry. At the mouth of the cave the walls actually crumbled to the touch. Further in, they seemed more stable, and even further and deeper, they started to smooth much like the walls of the fortified trenches. Sheppard had noticed how wide the mouth of the caves were, and theorized that the rush of rain waters must cause the erosion that weakened the inner rock structure. All of the sediment rushing in would work and smooth the walls. Rodney simply theorized that, the smoother the walls, the closer the water source. Sheppard wasn't sure if that was totally accurate, but it sounded good. So they were looking for very smooth tunnels while walking in a descending fashion. And he had a good sharp stone, and was marking every twist and turn they made. He had been doing that for a good two hours.

They had torches. They had food supplies. They had a map. All they needed now was a clue.

Rodney was becoming steadily frustrated with the hike. "And so here we are, ladies and gentlemen, and if you look to your right, you'll see . . . absolutely nothing of interest! To your left, you will observe, rock. To the right, rock. Overhead there appears to be more rock of the rock variety, and unless I am very much mistaken, the material at our feet looks suspiciously like rock as well."

"Can it, McKay."

"Of course you do have your meager varieties. You have red rock," he picked up a rock and tossed it over his shoulder, "dark red rock," he repeated the action, "not-quite-as-dark-as-the-second-but-darker-than-the-first rock . . ."

"McKay! For god's sake!"

"What? Am I boring you?" He stuck his face into Sheppard's, huffed, and walked past him.

"Why don't you look at a map or something?"

"I have looked at the maps. They have been scrutinized, analyzed, memorized, and subsequently categorized as useless!" He flipped out the pages from his pocket. "We haven't been down here. Ever. We have no idea where to go. This map only marks the way to these caverns, not so much the tunnels themselves. And this," he produced another piece of paper, "which is supposed to chart the tunnels that they have explored is, guess what? Useless! Why? Because this tunnel isn't one of the afore mentioned explored tunnels!"

Sheppard had stopped, and his eyes glinted in the torch light. "So we're trail-blazing. I thought you said you could find this thing?"

"I said I could find the cavern." He hastily rolled the maps and stuck them back in his pocket. "I said nothing about water."

Sheppard stopped. "That is NOT what you said, Rodney!"

"Well, forgive me for a slight exaggeration!"

"You LIED."

"I did not lie! How can I possibly lie about something like this? It's not like I'm trying to get us lost or don't want to find the thing! And may I remind you that I was in no way prepared to come down here today! I have this," he unfolded another paper, "which may or may not map out three of the tunnels down here, but guess what? These tunnels," he pointed, "are not this tunnel," he gestured, "so therefore this tunnel," he pointed, "is useless! Just like these maps!"

Sheppard knew the situation was pretty hopeless. With hundreds of miles of underground passages, there was no way they could just go and find what they were looking for. On the other hand, they couldn't exactly leave, not with the large men that had followed them, and were possibly waiting outside to make sure they didn't sneak away. "They could've given us a guide or something, someone who knows the way down here."

Rodney hastily refolded the maps. "They want us to die. That's all there is to it."

"It does seem that way. Guess they don't believe in this water geyser after all."

"Do you?" Rodney's face was tense, his expression showing he feared the answer he knew was coming.

Sheppard recognized the look. "I think . . . maybe . . . your presumption was a bit hasty."

"Oh, come on," Rodney's arms fell to his side as he rolled his eyes. "How could it be anything else?"

"Exactly."

"No, Einstein, I mean the geyser! You have another explanation seeing as how they have a water cycle, yet no surface water to speak of?"

"To produce a storm like we saw, you're talking about a geyser that has to be hundreds and hundreds of feet high throwing out thousands and thousands of metric tons of water! You're talking about a reverse Niagra Falls!"

"Yes, precisely!"

"Well, pardon me if I'm a little dubious!" Rodney growled in frustration and pushed past Sheppard, but he wasn't finished. "I suppose you have this all worked out too," he said, following. "I bet there's some kind of underground lake that sits on a huge . . ." he searched for a word with his hands, "magma chamber. And when heated enough, the water suddenly jets through this funneled area, pushing enough moisture out to cause condensation and clouds and the lot."

Rodney turned in astonishment, and stopped. "You amaze me sometime, Colonel. How did you guess?"

"Oh, for the love of . . ." this time Sheppard was the one who pushed past.

But Rodney wasn't letting it go. "Seriously! How did you guess?"

"I read sci-fi, Rodney. Let it go."

"This is my thinking." Rodney tried his hardest to walk shoulder to shoulder with Sheppard, but the continually restrictive area prevented it. "Depending on the lay of the land, these tunnels have to channel the water. The water has to be going somewhere. The deeper we go, the better the chance of finding this underground lake."

"And the better our chance of getting lost."

"What, you aren't leaving bread crumbs behind?"

"Rodney . . ."

"Hey, I'm as capable of using humor to control my panic as the next guy, all right? Now just let me concentrate."

Sheppard sighed and made another mark on the wall as the tunnel shifted and turned to the right.

"Besides," Rodney continued, "despite what they think, this body of water can't be that far away. I mean, it's not on the other side of the planet or anything."

"Well, that's good news."

"Of course it is!"

"And why do you think this?"

"Because it rained here." He kept walking, and stopped when he sensed a lack of motion behind him. He turned with a smirk. "You don't get it."

"Heat must've got to my brain."

Rodney sighed. "Simple meteorology. Didn't you have to take a course in meteorology in order to be able to pilot?"

"I took a course anyway, because I like weather." Sheppard's face cleared. "Ah. You think it's nearby because the rain had time to get here and empty a deluge of water. It didn't have time to evaporate in the extreme heat."

"Bingo."

"Well, that is good news."

"Of course it is." Rodney smirked again and turned, then stopped as a distant noise sent chills up his spine. "What was that?"

Sheppard had stopped as well, and tilted his torch around, his eyes following the flame. "I don't know, but I don't like it."

"Didn't Brouk say there were creatures in these caves?" His confidence had bled away.

"Yeah, now that you mention it."

"Oh god." Rodney's voice broke slightly, and he leaned against a large rock.

"Now don't start that. Just because we heard one doesn't mean it's coming." The noise sounded again, this time closer.

"Oh yeah! Great! Why don't you yell next time and see if it comes any closer?"

"I wasn't being loud! You're the one being loud!"

"Well forgive me for expressing some anxiety here!"

"What did I just tell you?"

"Since when do I start listening to you?"

The growl vibrated the rocks surrounding them. Sheppard swung his torch around until he found a large fissure, and shoved Rodney inside. "How 'bout now. Stay put."

"Where are you going?"

"We can't both fit in here! I'll just, uh . . ." he spun and cursed as the growl deepened, just behind him. The light dimmed, and went out.