Of
Duty, Atonement, and Redemption—Chapter Seven
By
SGC Gategirl
For warnings, comments, summary, etc, please see part one.
Muttering under his breath, Radek Zelenka shook his head as he read through the slew of emails that had appeared in his email box this afternoon after Rodney had made his rounds of the smaller science labs. Some things never change, he thought, rolling his eyes at one of the more…creative uses of Ancient technology.
Deleting the majority of the messages and flagging two to speak to Rodney about tomorrow, he pulled up the status screen for his current project, checking the readings and comparing them against his earlier estimations. The sound of shuffling feet, however, pulled his attention to the open door and away from the data at his fingertips. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Colonel Sheppard hovering near the entrance of the main science lab as if he were unsure if he should come in or not.
"Colonel?" Radek said, pushing his glasses back in place. "I did not expect to see you so soon. Is there a problem?"
Sheppard took a few steps into the room before casually resting a hip against a nearby table, his arms crossed easily over his chest. "McKay's not around?"
Zelenka's eyebrow rose. "No. He's in his lab one level up, but I am certain you know Rodney's habits after all this time."
"Yeah…" he replied, letting the last syllable drag out a little.
"You are here to talk me out of off-world missions, no?"
Sheppard looked a little surprised at his question, but answered it a few beats later. "Actually, I wanted to make sure this was something you wanted and not something McKay was pushing you into doing. I don't want you to do it if you're not comfortable."
"If I believed that it was a bad decision, I would not have agreed with the suggestion. Most of the scientists require more time in the field."
"I know we have to get the scientists out of the labs more often, but that doesn't mean that you have to go into the field immediately. I'm sure you have other things to do, experiments—"
"Colonel," Radek said, cutting off the other man. "I know you are unhappy about McKay's performance on the Arcturus project, but it is unfair to apply it to the entire department. And, I believe it to be in the best interest of this department for more of the scientists to receive field training. I consider myself to be among that number."
Sheppard was shaking his head. "I don't have an issue with the science department, Doc."
"Then, we don't have a problem." Radek smiled humorlessly. "So, when do we have our mission briefing?"
Shifting on his feet, Sheppard moved, his hip no longer resting against the workbench. "Tomorrow morning. We tentatively have a mission scheduled for the day after tomorrow. A simple recon."
Zelenka nodded. "Good. If you will send me a meeting request I will add it to my calendar."
"Meeting request?"
"In email. Is that not how you schedule meetings?"
Sheppard shook his head. "I just tell my team the time and place and we all show up."
Radek's eyes widened. "I am surprised you are able to accomplish anything with such an informal system. And Rodney shows up to these…meetings on time?"
"More or less."
"Amazing. The man cannot remember where he leaves his pen, but meetings and obscure details he can recall."
"So, if I tell you to meet me at 0930 tomorrow morning in the main briefing room, do you think you can remember that?"
Radek turned to his computer, pulling up his calendar. Selecting a new appointment he entered in the pertinent information. "How long should it last?"
"The meeting?" Sheppard shrugged. "Thirty minutes, an hour. It takes however long it takes. Are you going to be this anal retentive the entire time we're on a mission?"
"Perhaps. I shall block off an hour to make sure I do not have a conflicting appointment."
"And make sure you block off all of Friday," Sheppard said, gesturing with his hand toward the computer. "It's not like we can stop a mission because you have a meeting back on Atlantis."
"I understand the time commitments of off-world missions, Colonel," Radek said, saving the mission briefing to his calendar. "I have often taken over Rodney's meetings when he is pulled away unexpectedly. Do I have to look over anything before the briefing tomorrow?"
"I'll forward the reports to you."
"Good. I look forward to working with you, Colonel. You have managed to keep Rodney alive for more than two years, although he does come back injured often enough for it to be worrisome."
"Yeah, well, he manages to get into most of those situations by himself. He doesn't need help from me."
"I shall keep that in mind." Radek paused, looking at Sheppard expectantly. "Was there something else?"
"No, I think that's it. I'll let Elizabeth know we talked."
"Certainly. Then, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish this experiment before I retire for the evening."
"Oh, of course," he replied, his feet already taking him to the door. "Have a good night and I'll see you in the morning. 0930 hours. Don't forget."
"How can I forget? I have my calendar set to remind me of the meeting several times in the next twelve hours. Good night, Colonel."
Radek shook his head as Sheppard finally moved off, his footfalls echoing down the hallway. At least he was going into this with his eyes wide open. If Rodney had thrown this on him unexpectedly, the physicist would have more to worry about than large objects logged in small places. Much more.
Carson Beckett hovered outside Rodney's small lab, watching through the open door as his friend typed rapidly on his keyboard, pausing to lift his hand, his forehead scrunching up as one of his fingers traced something on the screen, before resuming the frantic tapping. The remnants of some meal sat beside him, a sizable unidentifiable mass congealing in the middle of his plate, a half-eaten piece of pie within arm's reach.
Rolling his eyes heavenward, he took a few steps forward and stopped once again, just inside the door. Leaning a shoulder against the wall, he cleared his throat, hoping he wouldn't startle the obviously intensely working scientist.
Rodney glanced up quickly, his hands never hesitating in their movement, before his eyes returned to the screen, a scowl on his face. "You wanted something? I'm busy if you haven't noticed."
"I did."
The physicist looked up, exasperation residing on his face, his fingers finally stilling. "You did what? Want something or notice that I was busy? "
"I wanted tae see how you were doing, but it's obvious you've gone back to ye bad habits," Carson said, gesturing to his friend as he pushed off from the wall and moved toward the lab table, pulling up a nearby stool and settling down—much to Rodney's distain if his growing frown was any indication. "I thought you were gonna be taking it easy. You were a might bit run-down a few days ago and pushing yourself like this is nae gonna make it better."
Rodney narrowed his eyes, the frown taking up permanent residence as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, thank you, Carson, for your diagnosis. Did you have to search deep into the sheep's entrails to divine that or did you manage to come up with it all by yourself?" He turned to glance back at the computer screen for a moment, his eyes flickering across the data continuing to scroll past. "Look," he said, turning back to the doctor. "I appreciate your concern, but it's misplaced. I know how to take care of myself. I've been doing it for thirty-eight years now."
"Aye and have you taken a good look at yourself lately, man? I've been stopping here every night for the last three and you look worse each time." He waved his hand toward the tray. "You're not eating like you normally do. You're drinking far too much coffee than your borderline hypertensive condition recommends. Should I continue?"
Rodney huffed, refusing to meet Carson's eyes, his gaze strolling over the Scot's shoulder toward the door of the lab.
"I didn't think so."
"What do you want from me, Carson?" Rodney finally asked, exasperation in his voice. His hands gestured toward the workstation before him, his hands help palm up, the fingers extended. "I can't change who I am. This is what I do."
"I'm just sayin' that ye need to take it easy sometimes, that you don't need to work yourself to death."
"And when the Wraith come everyone will be asking me why I don't have the solution this time, why can't I save Atlantis. And what will I tell them? That my doctor told me I was working too hard. And, when the ZedPMs and the naquadah generators begin to fail and we're running out of power everyone will turn to me wanting to know what to do. What will I tell them? That my doctor thought my time was better spent if I was resting and sleeping. Do you see where I'm going with this?"
"Rodney…"
"It's really only a matter of when, Carson, not if. You know as well as I do that the Wraith are not going to stop coming. We might have bought ourselves time with this parlor trick of ours, but all it takes is one slip and the Wraith will know we survived. A quiet word mentioned in passing that gets spread from one person to the next. Soon enough, the right ears hear it and we have a dozen Wraith hive ships knocking on our front door." Rodney paused, tilting his head to the side, his eyes finally sliding down to meet Beckett's. "So, what would you choose? You're a doctor, sworn to protect lives, to save lives. What would you do in my place?"
Carson shook his head. "That's nae a fair question."
"But it's a valid one. We might not be in the middle of a crisis right now, but they are never far off."
Sighing, Beckett shrugged and rose to his feet. "It seems like I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this."
"Because I'm right."
Moving toward the door, Carson pursed his lips before turning back to Rodney. "If you're determined to continue working like this, I'm gonna have to say something to Elizabeth."
"Why?" Rodney asked, his voice rising in pitch as he clamored to his feet.
"For ignoring medical advice, first of all," Carson replied, ticking the points off on his hand.
"I ignore your medical advice all the time. That's nothing new," Rodney complained, but Carson continued as if he hadn't spoken.
"For pushing yourself to the point of physical and mental exhaustion when there's nae a pressin' need."
"There's always a need, Carson. Just because you refuse to see it doesn't mean it's not there."
He ticked off a third finger. "And I don't think this is what Elizabeth had in mind when she reinstated you as head of the science department."
Rodney scowled at him. "Are you done?"
"I can probably find other things if I think hard enough."
"Don't injure yourself, Carson," Rodney grumbled, turning back to his computer, his hands resting lightly on the keyboard. His voice when he spoke again was softer, hesitant. "If I stop for tonight, will you lay off?"
"Only if you agree to work normal hours for the next three weeks—unless, of course, some ugly crisis rears its head. Then all bets are off."
"Fine," Rodney said, his hands in motion once again, surely closing down programs and logging out of the mainframe database. In a few minutes he was shutting down his computer, closing the lid, and turning back to the Scot. "Are you happy?"
"Not entirely, but this is a start," Carson replied, his hands on his hips, a half-smile on his face. "So, how about a late-night snack? I think I know where the cooks hid the chocolate chip cookies."
Instead of verbalizing his agreement, Rodney rose and headed into the corridor making Carson hustle to catch up with him. Walking side-by-side, they headed toward the nearest transporter.
"I guess convincing you that cookies go better with coffee is out of the question?"
"Don't push your luck, Rodney."
Ronon Dex watched from a darkened corner of the mess hall as the two doctors entered, chatting amicably about some topic, their voices not pitched loud enough to carry across the room. Moving to the kitchen doors, they ducked inside, their conversation never wavering.
It was good to see McKay interacting with people—if what he did was called interaction. Confrontation and bombardment was closer to the truth.
It didn't surprise him that Beckett was one of the first to approach the scientist, to try and draw him out. The medic had expressed some of his concerns to Teyla late one night before they left on the mission to the Mazurkian homeworld. Beckett didn't say he was worried—at least not in those plain terms—but between the lines Teyla could see his anxiety. She, in turn, acted on his unsaid words and discovered his concerns to be well-founded. Unfortunately, she had been unable to do more than spar with him one single night before they were headed on a mission. And since they'd been back, between routine training and other duties, he knew Teyla had not been able to spend much time with McKay.
For a man so loud, brash, and abrasive, it was strange to see McKay reduced, as it was, to a person reviled and hated—even after all that he had done for the city, risking his own life in the process. They seemed to forget the good, choosing to remember the bad instead.
And then there were the rumors. He hadn't thought much of them at first. It was just talk; it didn't make a difference in how people were treated, in how they performed their jobs. But when they'd returned to Atlantis, things had changed dramatically. There was a tension in the air that hadn't been there before. A certain…darkness, something much more predatory in nature. It was hard to explain. He didn't think they wanted McKay to fail, but the undertones he was sensing certainly were leading to that conclusion.
The Atlanteans were different than he expected.
Ever since they'd returned from the Mazurkian homeworld, Beckett had made it his point to check on McKay several times during the day—or as often as his schedule allowed. Tonight was not much different than the past three.
Beckett and McKay stepped back into the mess clutching a mug in one hand and napkin wrapped object in the other. Moving to a table near the door, they settled in, their conversation never pausing. He spied a small item in McKay's right hand as he waved it about, gesturing about something, and realized they'd located the cook's secret stash of cookies. If any more people knew about them, they certainly could not be considered a secret any longer—and there wouldn't be any left by morning.
He let the low rumble of their voices wash over him, allowing his mind to wander, his eyes drifting around the room to examine the intricate glass designs the Ancients favored. He was not particularly artistically inclined—any of those leanings tended to get pushed to the background when you were running for your life—but there was something soothing about the patterns that helped put his mind to ease before he retired for the night.
McKay's sharp, raised voice, however, nearly made him take to his feet, his hand immediately reaching for the weapon he always carried.
"What do you mean you're going back to the mainland?"
Seeing no immediate threat, he sat back down, choosing to listen instead of interrupt.
"…check-ups from last week."
"Last week? What were you doing last week? No one told me you were on the mainland."
"The quarterly check-ups. You know the routine."
"Yes, of course I know what they are," McKay protested, his cookie dropping forgotten to the table, landing beside the napkin where the other two were current residing. His face contorted as he wiggled his fingers in the air. The gesture, apparently, helped him think sometimes. Ronon saw it often enough. "That was last week? I could have sworn they were set up for this week. We'd made some adjustments in the mission schedules to make sure there was a pilot to take the medical staff over. You mean to tell me that we were off by a week?"
Beckett shrugged, but seated the way he was, Ronon didn't have a clear view off the doctor's face. "I'd forgotten myself, but I'm glad the Colonel and Elizabeth were keeping track. Halling was expecting us."
"Sheppard and Weir, eh? I should have known." McKay turned away from the other man, his breath expelling quickly from his mouth. He turned back a few moments later, his face carefully controlled, but Ronon could see the betrayal from across the room. "Let me guess, it just happened to be a coincidence that Sheppard's team had those treaty negotiations, too. Cause I don't remember that being on the mission list either."
"I don't know what you're getting at, Rodney," Beckett began, but broke off when McKay shook his head.
"No, no, of course you don't." He paused again, his gaze dropping to his forgotten late-night snack. "I seem to have lost my appetite. Enjoy your trip to the mainland." Shoving his chair back, he stood. "Give my regards to Lorne, will you? I'm sure he'll be piloting you tomorrow since his team's mission was moved to later in the week. Now I know why."
"Rodney—"
"I may be dense with some stuff, but I'm not a genius for nothing. Even I can see what's going on here. Good night, Carson," he said, his feet quickly taking him into the hallway beyond.
The doctor's head dropped, nearly hitting his cup as he let out a long sigh. Ronon chose that moment to rise, making his way to the solitary figure.
His movement must have reached the doctor's ears since he'd lifted his head even before Ronon reached the table, watching as he dropped into the chair McKay had just vacated.
"He's hurt and angry."
"You heard?"
Ronon nodded. "Hard not to. I was sitting on the other side of the room."
Beckett shifted in his chair, glancing back toward the darkened section of the mess. "I didn't notice—"
"You weren't looking."
Picking up McKay's discarded cookie, Ronon sniffed it appreciatively before taking a bite. Beckett watched him, his hands stiff gripping his half-full mug of tea.
"Is he right?"
Ronon shrugged. "Seems he might be."
"I just can't see Elizabeth or John purposely doing that to him, taking away anyone that might show him some compassion, sympathy, companionship. That's not like them at all."
"Sheppard was angry."
"Aye, he was, and so was Elizabeth, but that doesn't mean they'd be cruel."
"Anger does strange things to men."
"Are you saying they did that on purpose, that they arranged the missions just to make sure Rodney was alone so that there was nothing to distract him from…" Beckett shook his head, his eyes dropping to his mug as his voice petered out. "I canna believe that."
Ronon shrugged again, swiping the last of the cookies McKay left behind as he rose to his feet. "Believe what you wish. I've found that actions speak louder."
He walked into the hallway, leaving Beckett alone in the half-light of the mess hall, his thoughts and beliefs his only companions.
Lorne glanced around the mess hall trying to locate one wayward scientist. It was 0820 and there was still no sign of McKay. Chatting with one of the new recruits about an upcoming mission, he bided his time, waiting for him to show.
It wasn't like McKay to miss a meal—at least not when there wasn't a crisis, or he was in a particularly bad mood, or if he forgot because some fantastic scientific discovery took away all thoughts of the more mundane physical requirements of his body. Granted, sooner or later he'd be forced to eat, but then there was always a PowerBar within reach. What really bothered Lorne was that Rodney had seemed genuinely appreciative of the offer to meet for breakfast. He guessed he might have been wrong about the scientist's actual enthusiasm toward the event.
Grabbing a tray he loaded up on breakfast and his third cup of coffee for the morning, heading for a table off to the side but with a clear vantage point of the main door. Settling in, he dug into his food, his eyes continually drifting around the room.
"Sir?"
Glancing up, Lorne was surprised to see Second Lieutenant Holden Clark hovering, an apple in hand.
"Clark. Have a seat," he said, gesturing with his spoon toward the open chair, a soggy cornflake freeing itself from the utensil and landing on the edge of his tray.
"Thanks for the offer, but I have to get going. Were you waiting on Doctor McKay?"
"Actually I am," Lorne replied, his eyes glancing around the Lieutenant looking for the man in question.
"I don't think he's coming."
"Not coming?" Lorne's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? Where is he?"
Clark took a half-step back. "I don't know where he is now, but he was in and out of here earlier. Probably about fifteen minutes before you came in."
"No, that can't be right."
The other man shrugged. "It certainly looked like him. I figured I'd let you know so you didn't sit around waiting."
"Thanks," Lorne replied absently. "And anyway, how did you know I was having breakfast with him this morning?"
"Honestly, sir, Atlantis is a pretty small community. Word gets around."
"People are watching who I'm eating with?"
"Actually, it's the other way around," Clark admitted, his gaze shifting sideways.
"They're watching McKay? Why?"
He shrugged again. "No particular reason. You might want to keep that in mind though."
"And why might I want to do that?" Lorne dropped his spoon, letting it hit the tray with a metallic clank.
"Just that people notice certain things." Clark glanced at his watch. "Look, sir, I'm going to be late. Enjoy your breakfast."
"Thanks, Lieutenant," Lorne replied, letting the other man go, his eyes following him out the door. He had a bad feeling about this.
Carson Beckett walked into the main science lab, his eyes drifting over the figures scattered throughout the room, most of them hunched over their respective workstations and equipment. Catching sight of Radek near the back of the room, he maneuvered carefully through the worktables and machinery, offering smiles to those who glanced up as he moved past. With the large pack on his back, he felt it prudent to take a little extra time to make sure he didn't knock anything over.
The Czech glanced up as he approached offering a perplexed expression. "Should you not be in the jumper bay?" He turned back to his computer briefly, his fingers moving to call up the clock. "Yes, Lorne must be getting worried. Is there problem? I do not recall anyone here calling for medical assistance…"
"No, no," Carson said, waving him off. "Nothing's wrong. I was looking for Rodney."
"Oh," Radek replied, his face closing off slightly. "He has already retired to his lab upstairs. He complained that he could not work here this morning."
"When did he start this morning?"
Zelenka shrugged. "He was here when I arrived and refused to answer most questions I posed."
"And you were here, when?"
"I have been here since 0600. He left for his lab around 0715."
"Isn't that strange?"
"For Rodney, no. It has been happening less that he goes and hides in his lab, but it is not uncommon."
Carson shook his head. Raising his hand, he squinted at his watch-face, trying to decide if he had enough time to run upstairs and then to the bay. "Thanks, Radek," he said, already turning. "Be careful. I don't want to see you loitering in my infirmary when I get back."
"Nor do I have any desire to be there. Safe trip for you," Zelenka said, the data on his computer screen pulling him back in.
Beckett moved quickly, finding the nearest staircase to the next level. Turning on his radio, he signaled for the Major.
"Lorne here, Doc," came the quick reply, concern in his voice. "Something wrong? We're set to leave in ten."
"I have one stop to make before I head out. I might be a few minutes late."
"I'll let Flight know. If you're going to be more than fifteen, give me another call. Is there something I can help you with?"
"Nae. I just have to check on something. Shouldn't be more than a few minutes."
"Okay. Anne's already here and the gear has been stowed."
"Great. I'll be there shortly. Beckett out."
Reaching the top of the stairs, he turned the corner into the corridor, heading directly for the small lab he'd dragged Rodney out of last night. Sure enough, the physicist was there, his grey BDUs rumpled-looking, an empty coffee mug at his side, his fingers tapping rapidly against the top of the lab table, his eyes fixed firmly on this laptop screen.
"Rodney, you are certainly a hard man to find," Carson said, stopping on the other side of the table in front of the working scientist.
"I didn't realize people were looking for me," he replied before glancing up. "And shouldn't you be on a mission or something?"
"Why does it seem like people know what I'm doing today?"
McKay shrugged. "I read the schedule and you're listed for an 0900 departure. No real secret about it. Looks like Lorne might be leaving without you if you don't hurry."
"I already talked to him," he replied instinctively. Taking a breath, he continued. "Look, schedules aside, I wanted to talk to you about last night."
"What's there to talk about?"
"You can't honestly believe that John and Elizabeth are purposely changing the mission lineups just to make your life miserable."
"So it's all one big coincidence then?" Rodney huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, raising his chin.
"Yes, exactly," Beckett said, snapping his fingers. "There's nae a need for you ta get all bent out of shape about a coincidence, is there?"
"Look," he began, his gaze level. "I'm not sure where this is coming from, or why you think something like that would bother me, but I really do have work to do, several mission briefings to attend, and you have a jumper to catch."
"Rodney—"
"Busy here," he snapped, his hands moving to rest palm-down on the table, one on either side of this computer. His expression softened for a brief moment as he glanced up again. "Be safe."
Carson nodded slowly, backing away, realizing that pushing to have any kind of discussion about this now would be pointless and just end up making matters worse. "Thanks. I'll see you tonight and we can talk. Okay?"
"Fine, fine," Rodney said abruptly, absently waving his hand, his attention already fixed on his screen.
Sighing, Beckett walked into the hall, his feet taking him to the nearest transporter while his mind continue to spin, his thoughts continuing to circle around one specific difficult to manage physicist.
As the sound of Beckett's footsteps disappeared down the corridor, Rodney allowed his body to collapse onto his stool, his muscles quivering with tension. He had the distinct impression that this would not be end of the discussion with the nosey, busybody doctor. Nothing was ever simple when it came to dealing with Carson.
He'd figured that people would leave him alone if he was in his lab, but apparently that didn't apply to Beckett. He was sure he had Zelenka to thank for the visitor.
Shaking his head and releasing the breath he was holding, he turned back to his open word processing document, his eyes skimming across the last few lines he'd written.
Therefore, I believe some of Doctor Edwards' suppositions regarding Ancient hydroponics labs have merit. There are several locations throughout the city that seem to be ideally suited—already set up as well—for such environments. The Ancients had to have had another method for raising fresh produce apart from relying on mainland crops, as we have been forced to do. Under Doctor Edwards' plan, several primary locations have been designated as initial hydroponics gardens, and I believe that within time—a year or two—there can be several large gardens throughout the city, producing a portion of the city's crops for its increasing population, providing a much more stable and regulated source of fresh food.
Nodding to himself, he finished the passage, saving the document to his hard drive. Glancing at the time, he locked down his workstation and grabbed his tablet PC and empty coffee mug, intending to stop in the mess hall to replenish his beverage before the 0930 briefing.
He walked through the halls, eyes focused on the floor, his long strides eating up the distance. In and out of the mess hall within a matter of a minute, a full cup of coffee in his hands, he strode to the transporter, waiting only a few seconds before he was on his way to the central tower and the briefing room. He'd timed it perfectly, he realized, walking in just behind Radek. Sheppard, Ronon, Teyla, and Elizabeth were already present, each moving to take their respective seats.
After a few minutes of settling-in time, Weir began, her gaze taking in everyone present. "Good morning, everyone." She nodded toward Rodney. "Good to see you back at work, Rodney." He offered her a brief nod in response before she continued. "What are the highlights, Colonel?"
"We don't have that much to go on," Sheppard said, referring to the information in the PC tablets littering the table. "According to the information in the Ancient database, it seems this planet served as an outpost during the final days of the war."
"Which means?"
"We're looking for an Ancient outpost," Rodney said, trying to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Actually, we're looking for an Ancient outpost I believe was also a center for weapons development."
Elizabeth turned to him, her eyes narrowing. "Why hasn't this come to light prior to now? We certainly could have used this kind of advantage a few months ago."
"Obviously, we didn't know about it until now," he commented, his response curt. "I've spent considerable time in the Ancient database over the past few days and this was one of the locations that seemed to be the most promising." Rodney shifted in his chair, his fingers darting across the touch-screen, bringing up some of the details on the large screen in the room.
As schematics of the installation interspersed with Ancient scrolled on the display, Rodney spoke. "As Colonel Sheppard said, we don't know much about it. From the little we've been able to ascertain, it seems as if the Ancients used this particular location to design and develop weapons. I'm hoping there might be various prototypes or even some completed yet untested devices we can examine along with the plans of course."
Radek, seated next to him, was nodding. "Once we find the outpost itself, I would recommend a full evaluation of its contents and a complete download of the database. Since this appears to be a major center for development, the information is probably also only contained in this location."
"You have to find the outpost?" Weir asked, glancing back and forth between the scientists.
"It seems as if the Ancients didn't want just anyone stumbling across it," Rodney said. "We have vague instructions in the main database here, but I believe it may have been one of the locations that was under the 'need to know' heading. It might also be why it didn't come up in some of our initial searches."
Weir nodded. "Possibly." She turned to Sheppard, her expression thoughtful. "What are your plans?"
"Well," he began, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on the table, "we're going to follow the directions provided by the science department and locate the outpost. Once there, it's up to Doctor Zelenka. We'll bring back anything small enough to carry to allow for further study under controlled conditions."
"Do you think it's safe?"
"I'll leave that up to the good doctor to decide. Once he has access to the local computer system we should be able to make a much better evaluation," Sheppard said.
Weir nodded. "Any current inhabitants?"
Rodney shook his head, his fingers tapping the touch screen in front of him as environmental information appeared on the overhead screen. "According to the database, the world was unoccupied, but that information is outdated. The MALP we sent yesterday came back with atmospheric readings, and they don't indicate any kind of permanent industrial settlement and no signs of life in the immediate gate area. While it's doubtful there are inhabitants, I'd recommend caution. Thanks to the Wraith, most of the people we've met here are very good at hiding."
"Agreed," Weir said, turning back to Sheppard. "How long do you think would be advisable?"
Sheppard glanced toward Radek. "Do you think twelve hours is enough time?
Zelenka shrugged. "It depends on what is there and how long it takes us to find the outpost."
"I'll give you the green light for an initial twelve-hour survey of the planet. If you need more time, we can always extend it," Weir said, making notes on her small PDA. She glanced up a few beats later, her gaze trolling the room. "Anything else to add?"
When no one commented, she continued. "What time were you looking to head out tomorrow, Colonel?"
"The earlier the better."
Weir nodded. "I'll schedule you for an 0800 departure. Also, John, until we know what Major Lorne's plans are for tonight and tomorrow—depending on the status of the Athosians on the mainland—you may want to arrange to have someone else take over some of your duties."
"Agreed. I'll get that set up this afternoon," he replied with a brief nod.
"Good. I think that's all," she said, glancing around again, a brief smile filtering across her face. "Dismissed." She paused, glancing down at her PDA as chairs scrapped against the floor. Rodney, gathering his mug and tablet PC, was just rising from his chair when Weir looked up again, pinning him in place. "Rodney, if you have a minute I'd like to go over a few other items on the agenda for today."
"Of course," he replied, as she turned back to her own device, a knot forming in his stomach as he re-took his seat. Radek paused by the door, looking back at him, but McKay shook his head, indicating that he shouldn't stay. Zelenka scowled at him, but proceeded out into the hall, the briefing room doors closing behind him.
"How are you settling in?"
Rodney turned back to Elizabeth, confusion on his face. "What?"
Weir leaned forward, her forehead creased in what seemed to be concern. "I wanted to know how you were settling into everything."
"Fine," he replied. "It's not like I've never done the job before. Actually, I have a ton more time to work on projects that always end up getting pushed to the back burner." He paused, tilting his head as his lips formed a thin line. He tried not to sound too curt, but he wasn't in the mood for her placating nature right now. He didn't want to play her 'let's be friends again' or 'let's make nice' game. "You had some questions about the other mission briefings scheduled for today?"
Nodding quickly, she reaching for her PDA. She scrolled through a few pages before glancing back up, her professional mask back in place. "We have two other teams scheduled to go out tomorrow, each team searching for what looks like additional Ancient outposts or warehouses."
"Yes, that's correct." He waited, knowing the other shoe was about ready to make a horrendous racket as it tumbled to the floor. Based on his educated guesses, he didn't think she'd question his choice of mission destinations. They were always looking for additional Ancient technology and resources to help them to better understand those that had come before. Searching for some of the last-known bases of operations was nearly a foregone conclusion. Unless of course she thought that he had ulterior motives; that she knew what was going on in his head better than he did.
"Is there any particular reason why all these planets have come up now?" She raised her head, her dark eyes intense.
McKay shrugged, trying not to let his anxiety reach his facial expressions. "I've finally had the chance to really dig into the database, and used a few different search methods. These looked promising. You never know when the Wraith are going to decide they want to check and make sure Atlantis is still gone. We don't have enough energy in the ZedPM to hold them back for long."
"I'm not going to argue with you—we need any advantage we can get."
He paused, waiting for her to continue, the silence stretched between them. He shifted in his chair. "And I'm sitting here…why again?"
"I wanted to go over the missions you've scheduled for the teams."
"So, let's go over them," he said, calling her bluff. "If you have specific questions, please ask them. I'll be happy to elaborate on anything you want to know. If not, I have work I need to do."
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, her lips pursing together into a thin line. She nodded briskly, sharply. "Then, I won't keep you from your work. You will be attending the briefings scheduled this afternoon?"
"Of course," he said rising to his feet, the unsaid 'where else would I be' hanging in the air between them.
She nodded again, her gaze dropping back to her PDA, her shoulders hunching in a little more.
He moved quickly, striding out of the briefing room, refusing to glance back.
TBC
