Of Duty, Atonement, and Redemption—Chapter Twelve
By SGC Gategirl

xxx

For warnings, comments, summary, etc, please see part one.

xxx

A shadow on her table made Elizabeth Weir glance up from her lunch, a smile of welcome on her face for the Athosian. "Teyla. Have you eaten?" When the woman didn't move immediately, Weir gestured to the chair across from her. "You look like you have a lot on your mind. Why don't you sit?"

Teyla slid gracefully into the seat, resting her hand on the surface of the table, palms down, fingers splayed, her eyes fixed on the long, thin appendages.

"I was sorry to hear about Treling," Elizabeth finally said, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "I know he was much loved and respected among your people."

Teyla glanced up, her dark eyes holding the memories of her friend. They had all lost so much, so many friends and colleagues, over the past few years and for Teyla, each and every one mattered. She felt each loss as deeply as if it were the first. "I appreciate your words and your sympathies, Doctor Weir. It is regarding that matter of which I have come to speak."

"How can I help?"

"I wish to go and be with my people during this time. With our current…situation, I do not believe my absence will be noted."

Elizabeth shifted in her chair, her hands tugging and smoothing her red shirt into place as she stalled, tried to find the words she needed. All through her life and her professional career, she'd found the usefulness of words, of phrases and tones. Instead of battling with weapons, she used her mind and her tongue to break and to heal. "Teyla," she began, only to trail off at the shake of the woman's head.

"I am not asking this of you."

"Doctor Beckett believes it is wise for us to remain on Atlantis for the time being until he can develop a cure for this disease. I agree with his assessment. I don't—"

"Doctor Weir, you have said yourself that Doctor Beckett believes I may already be infected with this illness. If that is the case, no harm can be done if I travel to the mainland. And, if I am immune, no harm shall befall me among my people. I came to you as a courtesy. Please do not insist that I make a formal statement of my intentions. I had…believed we had moved past that."

Weir's lips thinned, but she nodded slowly. "We have, Teyla. I'm just…concerned about the welfare of everyone here and on the mainland."

"Then allow me this courtesy. My people are grieving the loss of such a respected man. Allow me to walk among them and comfort them. It shall only take a few hours."

"Very well. I'll ask John to pilot one of the jumpers. It shouldn't take him long to get ready."

Teyla rose, inclining her head toward Elizabeth in respect and gratitude. "Thank you, Doctor Weir. I must prepare. I bid you a good day."

As the Athosian swept out of the mess hall, Elizabeth couldn't help but sigh. There was something about the words she'd said, the concept of grieving and offering comfort that was universal in many cultures. Looking at her half-eaten sandwich and the pile of reports at her elbow, she quickly made up her mind, rising to her feet and disposing of the garbage. Gathering her belongings, she walked out of the mess and into the hall, letting her feet lead her down to the science labs.

It was time she walked among her people, the ones who were grieving for their own recent losses.

xxx

Muttering to himself, Radek Zelenka threw down his stylus and shoved the stool away from the desk as he rose to his feet, pacing around the room while he directed his irate comments to the wall, ceiling, and the laptop sitting serenely a few feet away.

No wonder Rodney wanted him on the project. The database was unmanageable! He'd spent the last three days wading through its contents after the Ancient to English translator had completed its job only to discover it was a miss-mash of scientists' notes and equipment specifications and occasionally directions on how the devices were to be used.

The Ancient IT manager had not believed in cross-referencing any of the projects, however.

This monstrosity of a database was more a collection of pieces and parts instead of a useful, working tool—much like what the items they were examining were turning out to be, pieces of much larger devices.

How could they develop anything like this?

He could not stay here a moment longer.

Leaning over the stool, he locked down the laptop with a few quick key commands and headed for the door. Rodney should be in the lab. He should be able to answer some questions. For some reason, that man was the only one who was convinced the Ancient databases made sense.

Maybe something was lost in the translation.

Whatever it was, Radek thought as he stepped into the transporter, jamming his finger against the panel nearest to the main science labs, there had to be a better way to do this. He stepped out on the other end, his thoughts not even interrupted. Whether he wanted to or not, Rodney was going to help—even if he had to bribe and threaten the man.

And he knew where all the good stuff was horded.

So engrossed in his own thoughts, he plowed into a body coming out of the science lab, nearly knocking them both to the floor. As he steadied himself, curses on the tip of his tongue, he finally glanced up coming face to face with Elizabeth Weir.

"Doctor Weir! I…I did not…are you hurt?"

"No," she said straightening, smoothing her clothing before her hand rose to adjust the dark hair that had come untucked from behind her ear. "I'm fine, just startled. Are you okay? You looked like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"Perhaps you are correct for it seems as if that were so," he said, pulling his glasses. He picked up the hem of his shirt and absently cleaned them before putting them back into place on the bridge of his nose. "I am in the middle of research but needed to move to try and get my mind working once again. I also needed to speak to Rodney."

"He's not in there."

"No?" His eyebrow rose as he tried to look around her into the lab.

"No," she repeated, turning to follow his gaze for a moment before she focused on him once again. "I was just in there talking to some of the scientists. Unless he is invisible, he's not there."

"And while I know Rodney would enjoy that kind of Ancient device, I know for a fact we have not yet found such a one."

"Is everything okay?" she asked, falling in step with him as he turned and headed for the stairs. Glancing at his watch, Radek realized how late it was. Rodney was probably in his lab. He was always there in the afternoons and if he didn't hurry there would be little afternoon left.

"Fine. I have to discuss with him the impossibilities of dealing with Ancient mainframe databases. It sings to Rodney while sputtering at everyone else." Radek shook his head. "Sorry. I am merely frustrated."

"It's understandable. There's a lot in the database and it can be overwhelming to try and absorb everything or find one piece of data in that vast sea of information." She offered a gentle smile as they turned into the stair well.

Several moments of silence passed as they climbed the stairs. "Not to sound as if I were attempting to shoo you away, but do you not have business elsewhere?"

She chuckled. "Why am I here, eh?" She shrugged. "It's about time that I spend more time with everyone on base, hear their concerns firsthand instead of simply sitting in my office. And with everything that's happened, it's good for people to see the senior staff, to reassure them. Besides, the walk will do me good—or so Carson keeps telling me."

"Then, yes, it makes sense that I nearly knock you down coming out of the lab."

"Yes, it would." She paused at the top of the stairs, her expression changing from the relaxed openness she'd been sharing with him to a much more guarded one. "Doctor Zelenka," she began, her hand raised to catch his elbow. "How is Rodney? I've only seen him at a handful of meetings and I never seem to be able to catch him before he leaves to speak with him myself."

"You can ask him momentarily. He should only be a few more feet down this corridor."

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she replied, her gaze hovering over his right shoulder. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea."

Radek nodded, pressing him lips into a tight line. "Perhaps you are correct. He has been Rodney." He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, one hand on his chin. "He has been focused on his own projects, something with the Wraith technology I believe. He has also been trolling the Atlantis mainframe for me, attempting to locate more information about the weapons the Ancients were designing."

"So…about normal?"

"Yes," he replied, nodding slightly. "For Rodney this is normal. And I am sure that he has several other projects running, but has not spoken to me about them."

"Normal is good."

"Generally, yes. Means we have slightly better chance of not dying if something horrific happens." He paused, waiting to see if she was going to say anything else, but instead she stood silently, her brow furrowed, her lips in a thin line, her thoughts louder than any words could be.

"If that is all, Doctor Weir," he finally said, managing to break her out of her own ruminations, "I should be on my way."

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry I kept you, Doctor Zelenka. And," she said, finally looking at him, her eyes a little lighter than they'd been a moment before, "thank you."

He inclined his head toward her and smiled lightly, watching as she turned and treaded back down the stairs. Sooner or later she would have to speak to Rodney, and vice versa. But, knowing the scientist and the doctor, that could take some time.

He sighed. Stubborn people.

xxx

Pushing back from the workstation, Carson Beckett rubbed a weary hand across his face, pressing his thumb and pointer finger on the pressure points on either side of his temple. He had a hell of a headache and he knew it wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

The results he was staring at kept blurring together.

They were almost there. He could feel it.

The samples they'd gotten from the Athosians had helped narrow things down, but it was still taking time to actually create the vaccine.

Time he wasn't sure they had.

"Doctor Beckett?" Carrie Houston, one of the lab technicians, appeared at his elbow, her footfalls nearly silent, causing him to jump at her greeting.

"Oh, lassie, I didn't hear ye come in," he said, offering a half smile as he turned, already knowing she'd start apologizing. She couldn't help it if she walked quietly and he wasn't paying attention. She was clutching several pages in her hands along with her tablet. "What have you got for me?"

Her apologetic look turned into a frown. "I'm not sure."

His forehead scrunched together as he took the tablet from her hands, tapping the screen to move through the reports. They all looked as he expected until he got to the last page.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing to it.

"That's the problem. We're not sure."

"What?"

Houston shrunk back a little at the heat in his voice.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, waved his hand, trying to get his voice level once again. He pushed the question out through his clenched teeth. "What happened?"

"We think they may have mixed up some of the samples. I can't say where that last result came from."

Carson took a breath before he yelled again. "Are you trying to tell me that the only test that worked you can't replicate?"

"We can, but we have to run everything again."

"So, why, are ye standing here telling me about it?"

As she dashed off, he shook his head turning back to his own reports. On days like this he had to agree with Rodney. He was working with idiots.

xxx

Rodney McKay glanced up as soon as he heard the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway. Listening carefully, he was able to figure out it was just one set and from the stride, it had to be Radek.

What part of 'I don't want to be disturbed' did he not understand? Rodney had things to do and the last thing he needed was Zelenka hovering, asking questions, poking his nose into his research. He needed to get rid of him—and fast. Because knowing the scientist, he'd be able to figure things out quicker than anyone else, and he still needed time.

So as soon as the Czech rounded the corner, Rodney was ready with a glare and a snide remark. "Fancy seeing you here. Aren't you supposed to be on the other side of the city researching Ancient technology?"

Radek came up short, his surprise quickly replaced by annoyance. "Yes, and I would be there if Ancient IT programmer had any modicum of logic in brain."

"You knew what it would be like going in. Not like it's anything new."

Radek opened his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly, apparently thinking otherwise. He moved into the room, finally stopping on the other side of the worktable, his palms pressed into the surface, his gaze settling on Rodney.

"As much as I hate to admit, this project is much better in your hands."

Holding back a smirk at the scientist's omission, he crossed his arms over his chest, his chin rising. "While I admit I have a much better grasp of the Ancient database than anyone else on this base, I didn't think you'd give up so quickly, Radek. I didn't take you for a quitter." He shook his head as he watched the other man's anger slowly rise. "I'll have to remember that when you come complaining to me about one thing or another. Throw him a fantastic project and he'll crumble."

Zelenka opened his mouth several times, but nothing emerged.

"Look," he continued a moment later, waving his right hand absently before tucking it back against his body, "if you have a question about something specific, I'll answer it, but the project's yours. Besides, I don't think Elizabeth or Sheppard would look kindly on you if you turned it back over to me, especially since they obviously wanted you to have it in the first place."

He paused again, gauging the height of his fellow scientist's ire before adding the final piece, noting his tightly clenched fists and the tint of red that was slowly rising from Radek's collar to encompass his entire face.

"Now, if you don't mind, I do have to get back to work. I have several things to finish up here before I go and repair some systems that the rest of the staff screwed up the first time around. Just remember that I'm picking up your slack while you're focused on the other project. Not that I mind, but some of this you should have handled before it was dropped in my lap."

Radek took several steps back away from the table, his fists held stiffly at his sides, his eyes narrowed at him. Vaguely, Rodney realized that if he were any closer to the Czech, he'd probably get a punch in the face right about now.

Thank God for large Ancient workbenches.

"On second thought, I do not require your assistance at all in this matter," Radek hissed, his jaw clenched tightly closed, his lips barely parting to allow the words through. "Do not think I will forget this."

And with a sharp turn, he walked out of the lab, vanishing around the corner a moment later.

Once he was sure the other man was gone, Rodney slumped, his elbows on the table's surface, his head cradled in his hands, his headache pounding behind his eyes. He had so much to finish, he couldn't deal with a migraine right now.

But it was typical of his luck.

Turning back to his laptop, he continued where he'd left off.

Radek, in order to make sure you don't blow up the city when you try this, you need to remember that the power density in the duct is proportional to the product of electrical conductivity, velocity squared, and magnetic field squared. Therefore, the enthalpy extraction is very sensitive to the input-output fluid conditions. Additional electrical conductivity enhancement also might be needed from thermal ionization of suitable seed materials. I'm sure you can run the simulations and get it working once you have all the equations fleshed out.

Pausing, he grabbed for his coffee cup, draining the cold liquid. He wanted more, but he didn't want to go down to the mess to get it—and he was out of grounds in here. He'd forgotten to grab some this morning before he'd come to his lab.

And people, were the last things he wanted to deal with right now. He hated what he'd done to Radek…to Beckett…Lorne…Teyla…but it was necessary. It would be easier for him to get the job done. No loose ends to tie up. Nothing to regret or worry about. It was just…better this way.

Leaning forward, poised on the edge of his stool, he continued typing after a few more moments as he settled his thoughts back on the task at hand.

And if you're here for several years and you need to conserve power, rolling blackouts might be the way to go. I've left detailed notes on how to set that up to make sure you can keep the ZPM's powered up for as long as possible. I've also left you notes on some alternative power sources. I know the Arcturus project wasn't exactly a resounding success, but there were several sound principles in the Ancient scientists' notes that I think would give you a good place to start. You might be able to build the next generation of ZPMs if you set your mind to it. And don't, whatever you do, let Kavanaugh get his hands on those notes.

He sighed, trying to stretch out several kinks in his neck, his fingers poised over the keyboard. Another few minutes of this and he'd start his search of the database again. He'd finally got the chance to do some of his own research on the device he'd acquired, only to discover that it was exactly fifty percent short of a fully working appliance. Now, he needed to find out where the Ancients had stashed the rest of it.

xxx

Hovering a few feet down the corridor, tucked inside a handy alcove, Major Lorne watched and listened.

Honestly, it was hard not to hear the conversation coming out of the small lab, cringing at the tone and the words as the left the physicist's mouth.

"...remember that I'm picking up your slack while you're focused on the other project. Not that I mind, but some of this you should have handled before it was dropped in my lap."

Ouch, Lorne thought, feeling sorry for Doctor Zelenka. He'd watched him enter a few minutes ago and ever since then it had been one cutting comment after another. The next time, thought, the voice wasn't Rodney's. Apparently Doctor Z had had enough. And honestly, Lorne didn't blame him. McKay had been…nearly impossible to be around lately, not that he could blame him after everything.

"On second thought, I do not require your assistance at all in this matter," Radek said, the words tight. "Do not think I will forget this."

A few beats later and Zelenka stormed out of the room, a thunderous expression on his face, heading back down the hallway toward the stairs and the transporter. Once he was sure the other man was gone, Lorne shifted silently, moving across the hall to another alcove where he could watch McKay. It was risky here. If the scientist actually looked, he'd see him in plain sight.

Lorne didn't like what he saw: McKay, his elbows on the table, his head held in his hands, defeat in his posture. This was not the picture of an angry man. It was a man with a terrible weight on his shoulders, a man doing something he really didn't want to do. But every attempt Lorne had made to be friendly, to try and get past the cold shoulder McKay was giving everyone, had ended badly and generally with shouting.

It hadn't left him with many options.

After several minutes, Rodney finally straightened, his hands moving back to the keyboard, his fingers starting to type slowly but picking up speed as he continued.

Lorne stayed where he was for several minutes, just watching and listening. Rodney tended to talk to himself when he worked alone, but unless he was closer it was hard to hear.

Straightening, Lorne moved off silently down the hall, assured that the scientist wasn't going anywhere soon. He'd stop back later. Knowing McKay, he'd still be here, hunched over the laptops working away.

As he neared the transporter, something gripped his arm, yanking him into an open doorway, hands steadying him until he was back on his feet.

Tilting his head up, he came face to face with a scowling Ronon.

"You're watching McKay."

It wasn't a question so much as a statement, but Lorne felt that he needed to answer. "Yes, I am."

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"There are too many people watching what he does. Why are you?"

"I'm worried about him. He's not himself no matter what anyone else says."

Ronon narrowed his eyes before nodding. "You noticed."

"It's hard not to," Lorne said, glancing around the empty room. He paused in his examination as he realized something else. "You've been watching him too, haven't you?"

The other man shrugged lightly. "As much as I can. Making sure no one does anything."

Lorne's eyes widened. "You actually think someone would do something to him?"

"Stranger things have happened."

Shaking his head, Lorne answered. "I thought things had gotten better."

"Not really. People have just been quieter about it. In my experience, that's when problems happen."

"Well, then, I guess we'll have to make sure nothing does."

"Agreed."

xxx

The ride in the puddle jumper to the mainland had been quiet both him and Teyla too wrapped up in their own thoughts to engage in conversation.

Once there, she was surrounded by her people, ushered quickly into the crowds and away from where John stood at the ramp of the jumper. He was going to wait for her before he flew back to Atlantis, which meant he had several hours of time on his hands.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stepped down onto the dirt path leading into the village. He could go and observe—Teyla had mentioned that there was some kind of ritual that would be performed—but he wasn't in the mood. And besides, he felt like he was intruding. This was her thing, her people, not his.

But, neither did he want to be alone. It didn't look like he had much choice in the matter, however.

Checking his watch, he moved out, picking a path that wound around the edge of the village, setting a moderate pace. He'd walked this trail before and knew several points where he could turn off and make it a much more strenuous hike if he desired. He didn't want to return in the darkness though, so he was planning to be back at the jumper before nightfall, where he'd get to enjoy an MRE for dinner.

Too bad McKay wasn't here. At least he liked MREs.

And that was really the crux of the matter, wasn't it? McKay.

For such a complex individual that caused even more convoluted problems and situations, everything could be summed up in that one word.

McKay.

He sighed, catching sight of several birds as they flew through the forest, careening through the tree branches at a speed Sheppard envied. One of them squawked loudly, before emerging from a nearby bush, pursued by two other winged creatures. It looked like they were playing.

He stood watching them for several minutes, their small bodies hurtling thorough the air before they vanished from his sight.

Moving on, his hands pulled from his pockets to swing at his sides, John picked up the pace, not quite a jog, but faster than a meandering walk.

The last time he'd tread this particular path had been with his team, taking this route before heading out to one of the nearby hills for a day of relaxation. It had been a good day, something he hadn't thought about for quite some time. They'd been carefree; their first chance to really relax since they'd come to the Pegasus Galaxy without a constant worry that the Wraith would come.

Pretending to blow up the city gave you that kind of freedom only once.

Skirting past the trail that headed deeper into the forest, John continued his loop around the village, slowing once again when he saw a large group through the trees, his eyes instinctively finding Teyla, her face grief-stricken, yet strong and confident among her people.

Her father would have been proud if he could see her now.

He watched, feeling like the outsider he was, yearning in his own way to be part of a family such as this. Growing up, he'd never had any real kind of community; being an Army brat was difficult in that regard, but he hadn't minded too much. In a way, until he met Teyla, he really didn't know what he'd been missing all those years.

Atlantis, in its own way, provided that community, that family for him, but now things had changed. It was as if the very melody of his life here had somehow gotten off-key.

Why?

It all came back to that one word, that one person, his friend: McKay.

But to be honest, it wasn't just him, but everything certainly centered around the physicist.

The anger John felt, though, was more than at the stupid risk McKay'd taken. Much more.

He'd been so sure, so certain that it was the scientist's fault, but looking back he realized this wasn't the first time the science department had screwed something up. But as soon as McKay had asked, begged, for his trust, it became personal.

And therein lay the real problem.

He felt betrayed, used, like he was just a pawn in the greater game of "Rodney gets what he wants".

And he was still angry.

What would have happened if Rodney had died? That thought was still too close, too fresh, to consider. The thought of life on Atlantis, without his friend, was hard to imagine—and he didn't want to.

Shaking off the thought, he realized belatedly that the light had dropped considerably and the crowd he'd been watching had long since departed for another area in the village. He could hear them just beyond the grove of trees.

Retracing his steps, he reached the jumper a short time later, his stomach rumbling. Yanking out an MRE, he glanced at his watch and settled down to wait.

xxx

"Doctor Beckett?"

The call broke through his concentration, interrupting his late dinner and startling him enough to jostle his elbow, nearly sending his coffee off the commissary table.

"Beckett here." He glanced at his watch, realizing that he'd been out of the infirmary for twenty minutes and they'd already started with the calls.

"This is Anne, sorry to bother you, but Shelly's fever spiked. We're trying to get it down, but it's not looking good."

Standing swiftly, he grabbed his tray from the table, depositing it near the recycling center knowing someone would take care of it. "Do you have a cool bath ready?"

"We're getting it together now, but we're worried."

"Mix some liquid Tylenol, water, and ice, and give that to her if she'll take it. Open the lines and push fluids. We can't let her get dehydrated. If you haven't already started using cold compresses, do that. Also, start her with five milligrams of Phenobarbital, IV push. I'll be right there."

Clicking off the radio, he turned and ran to the nearest transporter, dodging several people along the way. Breathing heavily by the time he reached the infirmary, Carson could hear the undertone of panic in his nurses' voices.

Damn. And they were so close to a cure.

Rounding a final corner to the small room he'd set aside for Shelly once things had begun progressing a little more rapidly, he quickly got his bearings, watching as Anne Matthews and Penny Cohen stood on either side of the bed, sponging down Shelly's over-heated body with damp washcloths.

"Any change?" he asked, stepping up alongside, his hand grabbing the chart to glance at quickly, noting the last round of her vitals. His lips tightened. It didn't look good.

Anne shook her head. "Since I talked to you, no."

"How is she?"

"Her temp's leveled out at one-oh-three point nine degrees, but it had been up to one-oh-four point three. Pressure is down." Anne didn't pause in her ministrations, gently wiping Shelly's face and neck until the cloth warmed and she turned to dunk it back in the basin on side table, wringing it out before starting again.

Carson snapped his head up, his gaze carefully looking at Shelly. "Is she losing volume somewhere?"

"No," Anne replied. "We've looked."

"Pulse?"

"Down a hair when I checked last."

"Get some epinephrine ready, one milligram. We might need it."

"Doc?" Anne turned, her hand poised over Shelly's arm, the washcloth in her hand.

"Let's just say I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered stepping away from the bed.

He frowned, tugging off his uniform jacket, leaving him in his shirt. He pulled a stethoscope from the nearby table and moved to the bed, shifting Shelly's scrub top so he could listen to her chest. He offered the sweating and barely conscious woman a small smile of encouragement.

"Just relax and let us do the work, luv," he said, listening carefully, his other hand on her wrist monitoring her pulse. He smiled again, trying not to let his worry seep into his expression. Stepping back, he nodded to Anne to continue her sponge bath.

If only the lab hadn't screwed things up this morning, they might have something to give her. The broad-spectrum antibiotics had only slowed it down a little, and it looked like their usefulness had already passed.

He could try a different kind, something else, some other kind of drug, but he didn't know how she'd react and he was hesitant to add anything else.

"Anne," he said quietly, catching his head nurses' attention. "Let's get her hooked up to the heart monitor. I'm worried it might be a bit irregular, but I need to see it."

She nodded, immediately moving to complete the task, her hands moving efficiently, the leads quickly attached, the monitor turned on.

The picture on the screen didn't ease his mind.

xxx

So much for light duty, Rodney McKay thought, catching a glimpse of the time as he swiveled in his chair reaching for a tool he had placed at the far side of his desk.

He was about finished putting the Ancient device back together, just a few more connections to make, and it would be as good as new—or old, as the case may be. It hadn't taken him long, a few hours each night, to get it in pieces and then reconstruct it, learning the ins and outs.

It was ingenious, really, once you got down to the nuts and bolts of it—crystals, wires, and whatnot.

But, like the rest of the devices they'd brought back, it was only part of the whole. He had the containment unit, the timer, and the actual trigger, but the explosive element, or in this case the contaminant, was missing—developed in yet another lab, apparently.

Which meant more time spent wandering through the Atlantis mainframe after he searched through the information stored on the laptop—his extra laptop—Radek was using. And that meant he either had to talk to the Czech, who was probably still mad about this afternoon's "discussion", or sneak in and go through the information when he wasn't there. The latter seemed like the better option.

A voice over his radio calling his name nearly made his hands twitch which would have fused two wires together, making the entire device useless. He waited a ten-count before answering.

"What?"

"Sorry to bother you, Doctor McKay," replied the sergeant from the control room, the other Canadian whose name he had yet to care enough to remember.

"Well, you are, so get on with it or have you not noticed the time?"

A beat passed before the gate technician continued. "I'm getting some information from the long-range sensors I think you need to see."

"Me? What about Weir or Sheppard?"

"She's retired for the night and Colonel Sheppard has not returned from the mainland as of yet."

"So you feel that it's appropriate to call me at all hours of the night, but not interrupt Elizabeth's beauty sleep? I'm glad I know where your priorities lie—not with the person who can save you from certain disaster at a moment's notice and whose sleep is probably a lot more precious than anyone else's on this base."

"Doctor, if you'd like me to call—"

"Nevermind, I'm up. I'll be there in a few minutes. McKay out."

Cleaning up a few things from off his desk, he closed the finished device, tucking it into the top drawer, careful to make sure it wouldn't move. His tools were tossed into his case, which he closed and deposited next to the door. He'd bring it back to the lab in the morning.

After throwing a critical eye around the room, the desk area cleaned enough to almost match the rest of the spotless room, he moved out into the hallway, grumbling to himself about late-night calls and absent senior staff members.

By the time he'd got to the control room, he'd more or less resigned himself to the fact that he was here already, so he might as well see what had gotten the Canadian's knickers in one hell of a big knot.

"So," he said, climbing the last stair, his eyes fixed on the man that had called him, "what was so all so important that you needed to show it to me immediately?"

"This," he replied, moving over to the console against the far wall. Clicking a few buttons, the screen above quickly came to life—one disturbance on the map.

Damn.

"Is that what I think it is?" McKay asked after a minute, his hands itching to reach down and play with the data, checking and re-checking to make sure it wasn't a glitch.

"I went over the readings three times before I called you," the Canadian replied. "And it looks like a Hive ship to me."

"That's what I was afraid of."

xxx

TBC