A/N - If you find that this story makes sense, then you are crazier than it is. Congratulations.
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The puddlejumper would have hummed happily through space, if sounds in space were possible. It was a perky little ship, looking more like an intergalactic fun ride than a serious spacecraft. Rodney often likened it to a crushed soda can, but was careful not to do so while he was in it; he saw no reason to tempt fate, his own personal belief notwithstanding. "How much longer, Colonel?"
"You sound like a damn kid." John smirked and leaned back, tapping a lit button on the panel beside him. "Not far now."
"Good. Cause I, uh. . ." Rodney grimaced and wriggled uncomfortably in the co-pilot's seat.
"What?"
Rodney sent him a poisoned look. "Don't make me say it. You know."
John slowly turned a look of disbelief to his companion. "Didn't you go before we left?"
"I was rushed! I had a lot of coffee! So sue me!"
"Unbelievable. A self-proclaimed and half-proven genius in two galaxies . . ." John shook his head and changed the screen before them. A graph appeared, just masking the stars that seemed to whiz by, yet didn't. "'Bout ten minutes time."
"Thank god. And what do you mean, half-proven?"
"Nothing. I'll make sure to ask where the nearest porta-potty is when we land."
"What?"
John sighed and relinquished the controls, pushing back the pilot's seat. There was something about flying with Rodney that made time stand still. It was never in a good way. "Here, you take over. I'm gonna get the packs ready."
Rodney balked, his grip on the arms of his chair tightening. "I thought we established that I can't fly this thing!"
"It's on auto-pilot! Just watch over things for a second, will ya?"
"Fine." Rodney swallowed and put shaky hands on the controls. He swallowed hard again, picturing the craft trembling under his touch. Of course other things made objects tremble, not just fear. Extreme pleasure, for instance. Maybe if he pretended the craft was turned on by his touch, obeying his every whim out of an intense desire to please him, maybe they wouldn't crash and die. He breathed slowly, rubbing his thumb over the side of the joystick to his right while trying to forget why the flight control had such a name. It wasn't right to think about seductively guiding a ship while rubbing a . . .okay, enough of that. Visibly giving his head a shake, he refocused his thoughts.
The planet loomed before them, dusty and puckered. "Looks like a dried apricot," Rodney mumbled.
John glanced out of the front window as he stuffed small rations into his vest pocket. "A bit, yeah." He retreated to the rear cabin.
Rodney nodded and concentrated on his task of not crashing into the small debris that always seemed to orbit the planets. It grew larger and larger before him, and did so alarmingly quickly. He gave a quick, uncertain glance over his shoulder. "You don't actually expect me to land this thing, do you?" he called out.
"Are you serious?"
"Then I suggest you get your ass up here." The planet's size was still increasing rapidly, and he wasn't going to be the one in the front of the jumper when they hit.
John looked up, cursed, and dove into his seat, grabbing the controls. "What the hell did you do?"
Rodney's hands flew up defensively. "Nothing! Well, I mean I might have elbowed that lever, but I put it back . . ."
"Oh, for. . .hold on!"
The planet spread out before them. It wasn't completely round, more like a cratered moon than anything, except there weren't any craters. It just looked like there should be craters, since it wasn't very round. Apricots were pitted, right?
John grimaced as he fought the controls. "You got anything back there?"
Rodney had sat in one of the rear chairs. He spun to face one of the many controls to his right. "There is an extreme gravitational pull, much more than you'd expect from a planet this size." He frowned. "That explains the wrinkles in the surface area, it almost looks like the planet is . . . pulling itself into itself." He faced the view screen with a puzzled expression.
"And this is where Lorne is?"
Rodney ignored the question. "I'm showing signs of another energy source enveloping the planet. It's possible they have some sort of stabilizer going on, so hopefully we can expect the gravity to be more normal on the surface."
"Is that the only thing holding this planet together?"
"Not very reassuring, is it?"
"How the hell did he end up down here?"
Rodney looked back at the viewscreen as the planet's surface yawned nastily at them. "Elizabeth said he was sold, or traded or something, and brought here with his team."
"So much for just going out to get rice."
"Yeah, well, apparently their rice comes at a high cost."
"And?"
"And what? That's all I know. Actually, I'm betting she told you more than me, which while insulting, would be more likely than her telling me anything useful." He eyed the empty craft. "And why are there just two of us, anyway?"
"Because this is a rather delicate rescue mission. There are three teams ready for deployment at my word, but first we need to find out exactly where on this pit Lorne and his team are being held."
Rodney glared. "She did tell you more than me, didn't she?"
John spared him a glance. "Like you'd be interested in the rescue part?"
"Please! If my life is going to be on the line, you better believe I'm interested!"
"We're just scoping the place out! Nothing to tell!"
"S'okay. I'm used to it." Rodney sighed and leaned back as the jumper adjusted to the increased gravitational pull. "I'm nothing more than a glorified electrician anyway."
John touched a few panels. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Oh, come on! It's 'fix this' and 'try this' and 'Dr. McKay, see if you can figure out what this does'. Never mind I have important work of my own to do. I have monkeys that can do this other crap, but no, as is usually the case in my life, the crap gets piled on me. And, as usual, it's the monkeys that throw it."
"Have you ever stopped to consider that you get this 'crap' because you are the one person intelligent enough to deal with it and solve problems quickly?"
"Are you trying to make me feel better?" Rodney sat forward slightly. "Wait, we're gonna crash and die, aren't we?"
"I'm simply offering a gesture of support."
Rodney pursed his lips. "It's true, though, what you just said. But it still doesn't explain why I'm on this mission and not Ronon or someone with eighty lethal weapons hidden in their hair."
John leaned instinctively as the craft curved to the right. "He's on standby. And I'm hoping not to kill anyone."
"Lorne and his team are being held prisoner and you're hoping not to kill anyone?"
John huffed. "I never hope to kill anyone, Rodney, where the hell'd you get that idea? Besides, we don't know that he's a prisoner. And if he is, I'll call in reinforcements."
"And I'll have to kill someone." Rodney leaned back, defeated.
"You've killed wraith."
"That's different."
"You're such a pessimist."
"Whereas the thought of killing someone is obviously such an optimistic affair!"
Brilliance, ten. Practical sense, three. "Don't go there, McKay." John's voice took on a dangerous edge, and Rodney reluctantly backed off.
The jumper landed with little complications amidst a curtain of sand which rose and settled over the craft.
Both men sat quietly for a moment, waiting to feel the effects of the strange planet. They looked at each other apprehensively when nothing happened. "Gravity seems normal, guess you were right about that stabilizer."
"Unless the cabin has been automatically pressurized to compensate."
"Either way, we're here. Let's get ready." John threw the level which he had come to think of as an emergency brake, and pushed out of his seat. He gathered their supplies.
Rodney stood quickly. "Wait, we need pressure suits or something."
"That or you can take a reading and see what the conditions are outside."
Bashful hesitation. "Yeah, I can do that." He leaned over his console. "Hm. Seems normal enough. Guess there's no getting out of this."
"Don't you want Lorne back?"
"Sure. I just want Ronon to do it."
John said nothing, just tossed Rodney his pack.
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There was no need to disguise the jumper, the sand had taken care of that. Lorne's abandoned jumper was right where it should be, and the contact that had informed them of the mishap had carefully laid supplied within on the bench; two robes, two pairs of shoes, and a pair of . . .
Rodney's incredulous look beat, well, any incredulous look he'd ever had before as John explained the plan. His eyes were comically wide, his mouth trying to form a perfect 'o' around words that had yet to announce themselves. John merely stood there, his arms folded across his chest, his smirk showing that he was enjoying his friend's reaction maybe a little too much.
"You-you want me to what?" Rodney's voice found itself in stuttered speech.
"Oh, come on. You've seen Star Wars."
"But a bounty?"
"Why not?"
"That is a movie, Colonel! Don't tell me you're one of those that can't tell science fiction from science fact!"
"And this coming from someone who currently lives on what amounts to a water-logged spaceship. . ."
"Okay, okay, I get the point! And hey," he snatched up the robe, "I got the pumps working, didn't I?" His response was a raised brow. "Oh, come on! Give a guy some credit! I was soaked through, no telling what evil contaminants I could have . . ." Rodney continued in a more subdued tone, "oh, uh right. Sorry about your stuff. I didn't know it was in storage on that level."
"And if you had, you would have worked faster, huh?"
"That wasn't possible."
"Oh, it's no problem, believe me. It was only everything of value that I decided to bring back with me, seeing as how we have more storage space now. . ."
Rodney reddened. "Okay, okay, fine! How many times do I have to apologize?"
"They were my comics, McKay!"
"I said, I'm sorry!"
John's petulant look faded into a grimace as he turned to the table and looked at the supplies. "Yeah, well, anyway. . .this is the only way we can get into the city and find Lorne."
"I'm not wearing this stuff."
John shrugged and picked up the shackles.
Rodney blanched slightly at the glint of metal. "Look, why does it have to be me? Why not you?"
John took a step forward. "Because, I am the military leader. Because," he signaled for Rodney to turn, "I have the presence of mind to cope with any situation that may arise. And because," he clamped Rodney's wrists firmly behind his back, "you ruined Superman."
"The Punisher was relatively unharmed," Rodney muttered.
John gave the shackles a hard tug. "Spiderman. First edition. . ."
"I get it!"
John merely nodded and backed off, regarding his handiwork. "How's it feel?"
"You want to find out?" Rodney gritted over his shoulder.
"Seriously. Did I get them too tight?"
This time Rodney turned. "Would you care?"
John glared. "No!"
"They're fine!"
"Good!" John snatched up a dark brown robe. He shrugged into it, still glaring at Rodney, and pulled the large hood over his head.
Rodney sulked. The situation was ridiculous; he was filthy, sore, and needed to eat. Sleep would be good. Returning to Atlantis would be better. Getting back to Earth and forgetting the Pegasus galaxy ever existed was tempting. He watched sullenly as Sheppard prepared. "Bounty?" His voice was less sure of itself.
"Relax, McKay. Quick in and out."
"Then why can't you do it? I can stay here and. . ."
"Because, this is the only way in. I've told you that."
"The only quick way in, you mean."
"Quick is good."
But Rodney pressed. "Then why not take one of the soldiers? Why me?"
John opened his mouth, then closed it. He turned away and stuffed small weapons into his belt.
Rodney rolled his eyes with a laugh. "You really are pissed at me, aren't you? You're actually enjoying this."
Well, John was. But that wasn't the reason. "Because we're used to working together, okay? And, on occasion. . . I guess we work well together."
Rodney blinked.
John wasn't feeding him any more lines. "You ready?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Then let's go." John's expression was pointed as he picked up his P90 and took McKay by the elbow. But rather than forcing him along, he gently guided him out of the door of the small abandoned hut, and towards the main town.
Large tents bordered the entrance. They flapped in the winds, each covered in a think layer of sand, almost blending into the bland scenery. The man at the gate was wrapped head to toe in bands of fabric, making him appear much larger than he was. His face was grimy and fat, his eyes hidden within folds of skin. What hair was visible was thin and white. "Name."
Rodney stared at the sand blowing over his shoes, and prayed Sheppard wasn't about to say, "Boba Fett".
"Samuel Granger." He even lowered his voice a notch. It was the most ridiculous role play Rodney had ever heard, and he looked up, wishing he hadn't as grit found his eyes.
"Cargo?"
"Just this." John prodded Rodney in the side, forcing him to take a step forward. Rodney winced at the man, trying to keep a level gaze with him. Fine. He would play the prisoner, but he'd be damned if he would act submissive.
The man grunted and stood from his stool. He looked McKay up and down, slowly walking around them. "What's his price?"
"Fifty."
The man laughed, and Rodney felt his face burn.
"Fifty? For this?" He laughed again, then spat on Rodney's shoe.
Rodney just closed his eyes.
"You got a price?" John asked.
"Fifteen."
This time John laughed, taking the time to survey the area as he did so. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Fifteen."
"I can get at least seventy-five on the range, and you quote fifteen at me?"
"Then take him where you can get seventy-five." The man sat, obviously not hurting for business.
Rodney turned so that he faced away from the man, and leaned towards John discreetly. "This is what you call bartering?" he muttered through tight lips.
"I didn't expect him to go so low!"
"While I treasure the fact that you hold me in such esteem, this price is not going to get us to Lorne. I suggest you do something about it while I still have feeling left in my extremities!"
John took a steadying breath and studied the large man, who was making a good show of doing nothing. "Of course," he said nonchalantly, "the fact that he has a price on his head would mean nothing. Probably just as well, less trouble that way."
The man looked up suspiciously. "What're you on about?"
"Well, I mean some people can take the heat, and frankly I have too much on me. Need to ditch this lot."
If the fat man's eyes could be seen, they would be wincing in confusion. "Heat for what?"
John put a chagrined look on his face, and leaned in. "The cargo. Need to ditch the cargo."
"For fifteen, you can leave him here."
"No, no, see. . .it's not just that. I mean you look at him and," he laughed, "yeah," ignored Rodney's glare, "but it's what's inside that matters."
"And what's inside?" the man asked, his voice lowering like John's.
John leaned in. "Treasure," he said in a stage whisper.
Rodney rolled his eyes.
"His brain," John continued, "well, let's just say. . .it's. . ." he held his hands apart for size as he struggled for words, "many people want this. The Wraith want this."
"Wraith?"
"Oh yeah! That's the trouble. I can't afford them following me, can I? And this guy has intel about the ancient race."
"That's a myth," the man said in disbelief.
John concealed his surprise well. "Oh, you think so? Then explain this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crystal, a burnt one, used in the distribution coils.
The man studied it. "What of it?"
"It's a beacon." He paused dramatically. "For Them."
"Oh my god," Rodney groaned under his breath.
"Them?" The man frowned, eyeing John, and took the crystal in his hand, weighing it. "It's used up."
"It can be powered up. You really think I'd carry a charged crystal with me?"
The man frowned.
"Look, what's your name?"
"Edmun."
"Edmun. Would this be worth seventy-five to you, Edmun?"
"If the Wraith want him, give him to them. You can't bring the Wraith here."
John just smiled and snatched the crystal away, clutching it tightly. "But you see, I can bring the Wraith here. They want him. I need him gone. Now you can get a pretty penny for his talents, and I dare say the price I'm asking is a fair one." He toyed with the crystal.
The man eyed it nervously. "Sixty. It's as high as I can go."
"Seventy-five."
"Sixty-five."
"Seventy. . .five." John locked gazes.
The man nodded and tagged Rodney. Then he took the crystal.
