THE NEXT EVENT - by Kolyaaa!

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: THE INSIDIOUS SAND

A/N: Thank you for your feedback. Although not all of you praise me, I know that there is love for me in your hearts. More praise please.

A/N: You know, I haven't noticed this before, but the lizards appear to be carrying spatulas. They use them to caress me. Also, they seem to be collecting into strange formations. I haven't been able to fathom the purpose of all this yet.

[{O}]

In the forest clearing, standing over McKay, Ronon holstered his gun and looked down at the scientist. "Got it."

"Carson?" Rodney whispered, his apprehension as clear as the soaking blood on his bandage. He'd managed to lift himself up enough for Ronon's coat to slip down some, showing the livid pink of his shoulder.

"Pretty sure he fell into the lake."

"Pretty sure?"

"Very sure," Ronon said confidently.

"He doesn't like the water," Rodney stated softly and closed his eyes. He gave up trying to wrestle himself up onto his elbows. It seemed dizziness assaulted him every time he raised his head above his shoulders.

"Better than being an MRE," Ronon said in his assured understated manner. Quickly, the Satedan knelt and tucked his coat up over McKay's shoulders again. Looking down, he saw the horn start to roll away from the folds of the jacket and grabbed it before it could. "Better than being dinner."

"You would think so," Rodney mumbled not truly convinced Carson would feel that way.

"I saw him," Nonor announced, appearing suddenly at the top of the black-sand cliff just visible through the thin trees in that direction. She had obviously been down by the lake, and was now returning. "He broke through the surface and is swimming toward shore." She jogged towards them.

Rodney rolled his eyes and was swamped by vertigo. Of course Carson was swimming to shore, what else would he be doing? Question was—why hadn't she stayed to help him?

Still gripping the horn, Ronon stood and made a step in Nonor's direction—the direction of the lake, then paused, looking back down at McKay.

"Go. Make sure he's okay," Rodney ordered, closing his eyes again. As much as he did not want to be left alone with Nonor, he'd feel better if Dex was keeping an eye on Beckett and not his sister. McKay doubted that he'd make it off this planet alive if something unfortunate happened to Carson.

The Satedan eyed the astrophysicist for a bit. After a moment he simply nodded. Nonor had paused at the edge of the clearing.

"Nonor, come back and watch Doctor McKay."

She grimaced as she traversed the few yards back to the clearing and the two men. "But, I—"

Her brother cut her off.

"You shame the warriors of Satedan, Nonor. You were assigned a responsibility and abandoned it. You sought the comfort of childish dream animals instead of defending those who rely upon you. Even the alicorn of our myths would find wrong doing in that."

Nonor dropped her eyes, chastised and embarrassed, though her eyes still sparkled with defiance.

"You will watch him," Ronon stated firmly. "On your honor."

She grimaced again, then nodded. "Fine."

Accepting that, Ronon left the small clearing.

Within a few minutes he stood on the edge of the same solid dirt cliff overlooking the lake. With a small smile, he observed with some amusement as the physician swam a few more strokes before gaining his feet in shallow water. He watched as Beckett stumbled left and right with his arms out trying to find his balance. He managed a few unsteady steps in shin deep water staggering haphazardly toward the beach. Ronon scrutinized the physician as he trudged erratically from the massive lake, arbitrarily shaking his hands as if trying to rid them of dripping water. At least he'd managed to clean off all the remaining alicorn guts.

Dex smiled half-heartedly as Beckett shook one hand and then the other and finally both together in irritation as water persisted to run onto them.

"Beckett!" Ronon hollered.

The doctor staggered one more step and left the water. He stood on the black sand beach weaving in small circles.

Carson looked up, searching the small cliff face for the source of the call.

His eyes landed on Dex who waved both arms over his head. "Are you alright?!"

[{O}]

Carson could hear and see Ronon, waving at him like a loon, but really wasn't in the mood to answer at the moment. Instead, he chose to mutter.

"Fine- bloody, well fine. Not every day you get your ass shot out of the sky by a laser gun and plummet to your death with some prehistoric bird of prey. I'm doing bloody well marvelous. Couldn't be doing any better. Practically kicking my heels up, I'm doing so bloody wonderful." Beckett snorted in disgust as he continued to try to dry his hands on his wet pant legs. He managed to smear sand all over his hands. "Bloody hell."

"Beckett?!" Ronon shouted again, having not received an answering wave from the stumbling physician.

"What does he want? My first born?" Beckett whispered to himself. He lifted his head and stared up at the cliff and realized for the first time that he might not be doing 'fine'.

Vertigo hit him like a sledgehammer off the side of his head. One moment he was standing up and staring up at Ronon who stood at the top of a cliff, and the next he found himself face down, staring at sand particles up close and personal. Hell, he was going to get sand where he didn't want it.

"Beckett?" There was a hint of concern in Ronon's disembodied voice.

"Not so fine at the moment," Carson mumbled quietly to himself. Not so fine. Not at all.

[{O}]

Ronon watched the unmoving doctor from the top of the short cliff and waited just a moment. Beckett had yet to move. Then, with a softly voiced swear, Dex leaped brazenly over the edge of the dirt cliff and freefell a few yards until he hit the soft black crumbling dirt of the sloping face. He slid madly down the near vertical surface, leaning back with one hand to keep his balance while wind-milling the other. He kept his eyes fixed to the black sand beach below. Fist-sized rocks rolled passed, clunking into one another, passing clods of rolling loam. Ronon kept his balance as he leaned backward, keeping his weight on his heels as he careened the last few yards to the sand.

Dr. Beckett had not moved.

"Beckett!" Dex's deep voice rang out with the sharp tinge of authority.

"Go 'way," Beckett mumbled quietly into the sand with his eyes closed. He wasn't military and was damned if he took orders from anyone right at this moment.

The Satedan, jogged the last few yards to the prone man, concern rising. Sheppard had left both doctors under his protection and he had failed them.

"Dr. Beckett," Ronon called again and dropped to one knee beside the Scot.

"Go 'way," Carson mumbled again.

Ronon cocked his head to the side. "Are you hurt?"

"Are you blind, man?" Beckett stated incredulously. He pushed himself up over onto his back, further covering himself in the fine black grains of sand and stared at the brilliant blue sky. He absently wiped his hands on his sand-covered jacket. The sand rolled and skidded about his skin, working its way between his fingers and under his nails. It worked under clothing and scoured the sensitive skin at the boundaries between hems, cuffs and waistline. "I've just done my best impersonation of urate, the jumper's missing, Rodney's dying. We got wee little bunnies that eat flesh raining down from the trees, nasty llama beasties with razor sharp horns trying to skewer us, massive winged pterodactyls the size of jet fighters..." Beckett blinked trying to make out the shadowed features of the Satedan through the glare of the sun and added with exasperation, "And I fear things are only going to get worse."

A short moment later, things got worse.

Without warning the ground suddenly gave out from underneath them as another earthquake hit.

Beckett yelped, reflexively reaching out to grab a hold of something as the one time solid if not annoying sand suddenly disappeared. He found himself unexpectedly freefalling for the second time that day, only this time it was through an overgrown gopher hole. Perhaps a network of tunnels left by a family of over-zealous prairie dogs? His mind whirled with possibilities as he fell butt first through the ground.

"Beckett!?" Ronon shouted as the doctor promptly disappeared from sight. The Satedan threw himself backward away from the disappearing ground to no avail, and Ronon found himself freefalling in the same expanding hole that had swallowed Beckett. His last shout was for his sister.

[{O}]

Nonor immediately ran forward towards the edge of the cliff when she heard her brother shout her name, forgetting the man left in her care. Beneath her, the ground undulated and shook, but she managed to keep her feet as everything shifted. She was just in time to see her brother fall down a massive hole near the bottom of the cliff face. Sand cascaded after him, and suddenly, a large chunk of solid, turquoise colored earth, fell from the cliff and covered the hole like a cork stoppering a wine bottle.

"RONON!" she screamed.

[{O}]

McKay felt the horrific shaking and tilted his head to the right, towards the big hole that marked where the jumper had fallen. His eyes widened as he saw a large, feather-leafed tree on the far side of the hole appear to erupt from its moorings in the soil and come crashing down. With a yelp, he did the only thing he could—he rolled.

The massive tree slammed down just feet from him, completely covering the hole where the jumper had fallen, the wind of its felling rolling him even further.

When he stopped, he was lying on his stomach, completely unconscious, Ronon's coat splayed around him like a shroud.

[{O}]

"Get down!" one of the molemen yelled, Sheppard thought it might have been Bebbil. Trusting them completely (for no other reason than they had no choice), Teyla and Sheppard hit the dirt—just as a large quake shook the dirt walls around them like some much jelly.

"It'll pass!" Bebbil called again. "These tunnels are stronger than the tremors."

Mang spoke up from somewhere near to Teyla, "Feels like it's coming from the lake, love!"

"Is that where we're going?" Sheppard called back into the pervasive blackness.

"Why does he keep asking dumb questions?" Dabbo's voice floated over the cacophonous shaking. "Isn't that where ships are normally found?"

Sheppard caught Teyla staring at him, her eyes shining in the darkness, bright with worry as dirt spilled down on top of them.

[{O}]

The sound of cascading sand surrounded Ronon, drowning out all other noise.

Ronon did not holler or scream. He did not raise his voice or waste precious energy fighting the inevitable. Instead, he fell silently, keeping his body relaxed and quiet waiting for the impending brutal stop.

It came blessedly sooner rather than later.

He landed feet first with a splash. His knees bent as he dropped and stuttered a step to the side, maintaining his balance and dispersing the energy of his fall. Sand shifted under his feet and water lapped just at his knees. He snapped his gun up to fire at any foolish threat that thought it would capture him unaware.

He heard splashing coming from his left, mingled with disgusted accent laden curses.

The Satedan squinted his eyes, trying to see through the gloom. He stood in a small body of knee deep icy water within a large cavern, shafts of light illuminating it from tiny holes far overhead. His eyes were drawn from the fumbling doctor who appeared incapable of making it successfully to his feet to the missing puddle jumper that sat like a mirage off to his right. A sense of relief flooded him.

Perhaps things were improving.

Ronon waded through the water toward the blundering doctor with determined steps, holstering his weapon.

Beckett pushed himself back up to his feet, cursing madly under breath, but once again lost his balance. He flailed his arms wildly as he crashed downward, though he was hard pressed at the moment to know which direction was down. Water closed over his head and face as he slipped below the dark surface.

A firm grip latched onto his upper arm and yanked him partially above the surface. Beckett gasped for breath and blindly reached for the solid grip that held him above the water.

"Beckett," Dex spoke again keeping tight grip on the physician's arm.

"I'm all right," Carson muttered slightly panicked. "Dropped from the sky, fell through the ground. It's alright. I'm all right. No problems. Doin' fine." The Scot attempted to shake one hand free of the water and lost his balance. He tilted to the side.

"Beckett!" Ronon's sharp tone cut through the small area.

Carson snapped his head up, managed to keep his knees from buckling and remained somewhat on his feet as his little dark world whirled around him. His wide-eyed glance swept the dimmed area and landed on the dirt-dusted jumper that seemed so out place in such a dreary place.

The puddle jumper sat perched on a dry mound of land as if on a pedestal for display.

"Ohh, a jumper," Beckett whispered with a touch of awe, his accent thickening. He looked owl-eyed up toward Ronon, "Parked in a puddle." A bright, pleased smile dimpled his cheeks. "Do ya think there are more of them down here, lad?"

Dex tightened his grip on the doctor's arm and pulled him more upright, straightening the left-sided list that had Beckett heading back toward the water. "That is our jumper." Ronon began leading them toward the Ancient craft.

"Really? I don't remember parking it down here." Beckett blinked a few times, tripped over his feet, stumbling in a twisted fashion back into the water. He stared at the jumper and then back up at Ronon. "Do you?"

"You are not all right." Ronon once again lifted the doctor up out of the water by the grip on his upper arm.

"Ach, no. My shoes are wet." Beckett tried to lift a foot from the water to prove his point but his precarious balance had him tipping into the Satedan. "I'm wet."

"You will survive." Ronon propelled the doctor forward toward the jumper. "You must fly us out of here." Under Ronon's sturdy and steadying guide, they splashed their way toward the puddle jumper.

"Ha, that's a good one," Beckett mumbled wading through the water that reached just above his knees. Carson suddenly stopped, forcing the big Satedan to stop as well.

"Beckett?" Ronon asked with some concern. He stared quizzically at the doctor's concentrated expression that suddenly turned sour. Dex feared the man might be sick.

"Ah crap, I've got sand in my shoes." Carson once again tried to lift his foot to show Ronon but managed only to tumble backward.

Dex tightened his grip and pushed the doctor upright. "You can fly with sand."

"Ach, no I can't," Beckett stated. Sand in his shoes meant sand on his heels. It'd scour the skin away in no time, not to mention the fine grains that grated and gritted abrasively between his toes. Sand would never do. Then something else caught in his jumbled mind, and he looked quizzically up at Ronon. "What do you mean, fly?"

Ronon propelled him forward uncaring of his dilemma.

The mismatched duo weaved and trudged their way through the chilled, blackened, water toward rear hatch of the puddle jumper.

TBC

A/N: For some reason, the lizards feel the need to massage me with the spatulas. Their attention is starting to leave welts. Just as long as my toes don't start glowing...

A/N: Yes, you want to do it. Leave me feedback. Really, I deserve it. This story is damn good. You can't deny it. Tell me how much you love it.