"Sheppard!" Rodney yelled to get the man's attention, "You and I need to have a conversation."
"Sounds ominous," Sheppard said without evidence of concern as he was finishing up with hanging a garland on the gangway, "What about?"
"About how you-" Rodney was interrupted by a blast of discordant sound, which was shortly cut off and replaced by a stream of angry curses delivered in Czech.
Rodney turned to glare at the team across the room, which he had initially dismissed as a meeting of the chess club, which didn't have a designated space of its own yet.
Instead, it proved to be Radek Zelenka and a selection of his underlings working on a sound system, undoubtedly intended to play annoying Christmas tunes without interfering with the main communications systems of Atlantis. By the sound of Zelenka, it was not going well. Clearly, he was beginning to feel the pressure of time. Ordinarily, such a task would have been done well in advance, but Atlantis was always hopping from one crisis or critical science experiment to the next, and there simply hadn't been time for the frivolous.
By the time the noise subsided, Sheppard had climbed down from the gangway to assess from the ground (and apparently a set of written instructions) where the next garland was supposed to be hung, and how he and Ronon were going to get it up there.
"Sheppard!" Rodney snapped, retrieving the Colonel's straying attention.
"Yes, Rodney," Sheppard sighed with some evidence of exasperation, "What's your problem?"
"What's my problem?" Rodney retorted, bristling, "My problem is-"
For a second time he was interrupted, but this time it wasn't Zelenka. This time it was a brief flickering in his vision. It took him a moment to realize it was actually one strand of the lights hung on the Christmas tree, blinking off and on and then going out altogether.
"One of the bulbs needs replacing," Sheppard said with a glance at the tree, "Now spit it out, Rodney, so I can get back to work."
"Work? You call this 'work?!'" Rodney felt as if he could just scream, but managed to keep his voice from getting that out of hand, "Colonel, we had a mission. I had a mission. How could you assign M6S-868 to Major Lorne's team?"
"I didn't," Sheppard replied neutrally, though there was a sharpness in his gaze that said he didn't much care for the accusation, "Elizabeth picked the team at the last meeting. A meeting that you missed, by the way."
This being primarily because Rodney had gotten into a technological debate that had somehow devolved into a theological one with Zelenka that had resulted in his losing track of time, Rodney opted not to explain himself. Besides, everyone knew the meetings were largely for show. Elizabeth got most of her updates informally by department heads visiting her in her office as needed, and most of them stayed up to date between themselves by checking in with each other. Meetings were just to add a little polish onto topics already discussed, and so they could deliver concise reports on routine happenings to the SGC. At least, that's how they normally went.
"And I suppose you were more than happy to offload the mission to Lorne's team so you could stay in Atlantis and… and..." Rodney gestured frantically at the decorating project, "Hang garlands! Which I'm sure seems very important to you, but this mission was supposed to be mine and-"
"Hold on," Sheppard interrupted hotly, "As a matter of fact, I did object," he hesitated, "Well… I started to. In case you hadn't noticed, I've been arguing for not delaying this mission on account of Christmas for weeks," Rodney hadn't noticed, but Sheppard was still talking, "But… well… Elizabeth said that Major Lorne asked to go."
"So what?" Rodney demanded.
"Well… I know it can't have been that he was excited about it. His team doesn't even have any real science personnel, and I'd think his time on P3X-403 would've cured him of any lingering interest in geological studies. So I figured… maybe there's another reason he wanted to go."
"Such as?" Rodney wanted to know.
"The same reason I wanted to go," Sheppard answered nonchalantly, "Look, he's only been here a few months, and he barely knows anybody. You may have noticed the man sits in a corner by himself during lunch," Rodney hadn't noticed that either, but he was flattered that Sheppard believed he had that much awareness of what other people were doing, "I think maybe he's just shy… but I also think he probably found this whole Christmas thing… uncomfortable and was looking for a way out."
"So was I!" Rodney exploded, drawing the attention of the tech team. He paused and took a breath, lowering his volume before continuing, "I did everything I could to avoid being remotely involved in all-" he gestured helplessly around the room at the various articles of red, green and silver hanging off everything, "-this. You know I'm not good with people, and I'm especially not good with them at parties. Particularly holiday parties."
Rodney's memories of Christmas were particularly bleak, as it always seemed to reignite his parents' hatred of one another. His mother and father had many differences, everything from religion to what age was too old to read The Night Before Christmas (which was four, according to his father). For Rodney's father, Christmas was just an excuse to expand the collection of scary literature and humiliate him in front of his relatives. Though ordinarily not a big shopper, Rodney's mother supported the latter endeavor by buying an endless supply of ugly sweaters during her holiday sprees and telling embarrassing stories about him to his relatives.
"Neither am I," Sheppard answered evenly, "But at least I've been here long enough to try and fake it. Major Lorne's spent a lot of his few months here getting beat up," he politely didn't say that Lorne's roughest moments had come whenever he was anywhere in proximity to Rodney, which Rodney appreciated as those moments hadn't exactly been highlights for him either, "I figure he could use a break. You may not have noticed," there went that word again, "but we've dealt with a lot more than he has. This is all new to the Major, but you and I, we know the city, the Pegasus Galaxy, the people that live here. I think we can survive a little holiday cheer, however painful."
"Much as I appreciate the vote of confidence," Rodney said sourly, "The only real experience I have with Christmas involves… well… a lot of yelling and long, awkward silences… and the occasional slammed door. I just… I don't… I don't know how to be a part of…" he waved at the tree, "This."
And thinking about Christmas inevitably led him to thinking about his little sister, Jeannie, to whom he had not spoken in years. Jeannie didn't know it, and Rodney would never tell her, but she had been part of a 'reconciliation' one year between their parents. They had renewed their declarations of love, and decided to have a second child to solidify their marriage (which was a lot of weight to put on a baby), and it had worked… for about as long as it took Jeannie to learn to talk.
Then they'd found a new way to vent their hostility, which was by goading Rodney and Jeannie into a constant state of conflict and competition for the love of their mother and approval of their father, either through their own accomplishments or (more often) tearing each other down.
Jeannie being the younger of the two, and a girl at that, she received a lot more of their mother's protection and influence and far less of their father's brutish parenting techniques, which were intended to somehow turn a boy into a man. Rodney had never understood how applying terror and embarrassment until the boy was numb turned him into a man. He'd asked his father several times in various ways, but the answer had apparently been that he'd thank his father when he was older (this had never happened, and lately Rodney had stopped wondering how old he would have to get before he felt appreciative of his father's parental guidance).
In any case, it had been a house sharply divided, and never more so than at that time of year when it was supposed to be about peace on Earth and good will to men.
"Believe it or not," Sheppard said reassuringly, breaking Rodney out of the unpleasant recollections, "That all sounds pretty familiar to me. But what do you want to bet the same is true for Major Lorne? Don't he and his team deserve one of the easy missions after all they've been put through?"
"And what about what we've been put through?" Rodney protested, very much thinking more of past Christmases than their year in Atlantis.
"Rodney, we're the A-team. It's our job to do the really hard stuff, take the lead, set the example… all that," Sheppard reminded him, then put a steadying hand on Rodney's shoulder, "I promise, we will survive this Christmas party and live to see another New Year," then his mouth quirked into a grin and he added, "Assuming the Wraith don't get us first."
"Oh that's very reassuring," Rodney mumbled sarcastically, but his indignation had been pretty much deflated at this point. As usual, Sheppard was right. But that didn't mean Rodney had to like it.
"What are they so worried about?" Ronon asked of Teyla, "I thought this was supposed to be some kind of weather celebration. They talk like they're going to war."
"Perhaps there is something about this holiday that they have not yet shared with us," Teyla replied sensibly, and turned her attention to Sheppard, "John-"
But Rodney interrupted her suddenly, as he'd noticed another flickering light, this one a great deal more concerning than the ones on the Christmas tree.
"Zelenka! Get over here!" Rodney shouted, bringing the activity across the room to a sudden halt.
Hurrying over, Zelenka said, "Yes, what is it?"
"The green light on the adapter," Rodney replied, nodding in the direction of the device.
Zelenka paused, then straightened his glasses, "It should not be blinking."
"No," Rodney said impatiently, "No it should not."
"What's up?" Sheppard asked, seeing a new tension had arisen that he didn't know the cause of.
"See that power strip?" Rodney began, "Well, simply put, it's an adapter that lets us plug our technology into Atlantis."
It was a lot more complicated than that, but for the sake of brevity Rodney refrained from explaining the details. Besides, Sheppard already knew most of them anyway.
"So?" Sheppard asked.
"So, the only reason the light on it would be blinking like that is if something is interrupting the power flow on the Ancient technology end of things," Rodney said.
"And that simply does not happen," Zelenka supplied, "The power grid of Atlantis is quite stable."
"Well obviously it is happening," Sheppard observed uneasily.
"Obviously," Rodney snapped absently, his thoughts already racing.
"Well… why is it happening?" Sheppard asked.
"Excuse me," Rodney muttered, waving dismissively, "Zelenka and I… we… it seems we have a problem to look into. In the meantime… enjoy hanging your festive dead plants."
He didn't want to push the panic button too early. Even Atlantis could malfunction… probably. But a flicker in the power strip like that needed immediate attention, before a little problem had a chance to become a large one. Everything else could wait. Besides, it gave him something to focus on besides the fact that Atlantis was being overrun by creeping Christmas décor.
"Zelenka!" Rodney called over his shoulder, as he left the mess hall at a hurried walk.
In truth, Lorne would have much preferred garland hanging to his current situation, which was listening to the post-crash tempers moving in and setting the two teams against each other.
"You're being ridiculous!" George boomed.
Known affectionately as Geologist George by his peers, George Armstrong was a robust outdoors man with more years of experience in the Stargate Program than even Lorne himself. It was really a wonder he'd ever found time enough to obtain not one but several degrees in the sciences. George and Lorne had crossed paths several times over the years, and Lorne knew just enough about geological studies to respect George as an expert in his field, but this was the first time they had been on a mission together wherein they were both heading up their own teams. However, George's current problem lay not with Lorne himself, but with the newest addition to Lorne's own team.
"We have no idea what's out there!" Lt. Wilson fired back fiercely, "We should stay here until the jumper is fixed!"
It was the exact wrong tone to take with George. Lorne had seen him go toe to toe with more than one colonel used to having his way, and George usually came out on top. Especially if it was Marines, whom he seemed to detest for reasons Lorne didn't understand. George had spent enough time around the Air Force personnel over the years that he felt he understood their ways and so could accept them to a degree. He was one of the few civilians who never went out of his way to push buttons to see if he could make a man in uniform snap. But George was never shy with an opinion, especially if he suspected the opposition was trying to intimidate him.
"And then what?" George demanded, "We hang up some Christmas lights and send someone out to find ingredients for eggnog? Son, we fell outta the sky. It doesn't make sense that we'd have any better luck the second time around unless we destroy whatever knocked us down. But first we'd have to find it. Until that happens, it doesn't much matter what you do with this shuttle."
Wilson was not interested in backing down, and clearly didn't know how to deescalate matters without appearing to come off the loser. However, Souci decided to throw her two cents in before he could.
"Jumper," Souci corrected George.
"Whatever!" George snapped, suggesting that Souci had lately done something to get off his good list, but she had been the only person available with the right skill set to fill out his team.
The civilians, despite their habit of bucking authority, also picked leaders for their teams. A seniority hierarchy was necessary, otherwise it was just disorganized chaos. Anarchy. Somebody had to take charge and direct. But if you ever pointed that out to anyone who wasn't running an operation, they'd pitch a fit about it. By and large, the geeks hated answering to anyone, and particularly admitting that there were things they didn't know or that they might not be the most knowledgeable geek in the room. This last part seemed to increase with their number of doctorates. And nearly everyone here had a secondary field of study tangentially related to their primary one.
Perhaps because she was the ecologist , Souci seemed to feel it was her place to tie all the others together, and thus had it in her head that she ought to have more influence over the team than was her right. However, George was Lorne's main concern. He'd never had trouble with George, and didn't especially want to start having trouble now. They had enough problems as it was.
Wilson opted to ignore Souci as if she had not spoken, and continued to argue with George, "If the jumper is functional, at least we'll have something to defend ourselves with. If we can get the shields running, we'll have somewhere protected to retreat to as well. Not to mention using the scanners to get some idea about what the landscape is like out there before we find ourselves in it."
Lorne's gathering headache told him it was about time to rein this nonsense in, seeing that George wasn't about to and Wilson didn't realize he was not only outclassed, he was outnumbered.
Helton got in on the act now, saying, "Oh and that worked great last time… Oh wait, no it didn't!"
The addition of another voice, plus the antagonistic tone, was the final straw on the back of civility. Helton's tone was tacit permission to let truly venomous remarks fly, and the addition of his voice to one side of the argument spurred Coughlin into joining in support of his team mate. Now everyone was talking, which was entirely too much noise for so small a space, and too many voices for Lorne to listen to all at once. It was definitely past time for him to say… well… something.
"Alright! Enough!" Lorne broke into the argument, "Enough already!"
His own men, outranked, immediately gave him what he wanted. The civilians were a bit more unruly and took longer to quiet down, but George had recognized that this was no longer a conversation about who was right, and instead had become a competition, a tug-of-war for the prize of being able to feel superior, so he stopped talking. Lacking their team leader's support, the rest settled out rapidly enough.
Lorne let them take their time about it, because he knew the law of Atlantis laid down by Dr. Weir and supported by Colonel Sheppard. No browbeating or otherwise intimidating civilians except in dire life or death situations where there was no time or other option. It wasn't that serious yet, so a gentle hand on the reins and sense of humor was called for, even though the mission was now one of survival rather than exploration, which rendered Lorne the ultimate voice of authority, as security of the team was his purview and priority above all others.
To that end, as soon as relative quiet descended, he said breezily, "I realize it's tempting to panic now that our sleigh has crashed, and we're some pretty ridiculous looking reindeer, but Christmas is coming and there's a lot of work to do, so there's no time for that."
Nobody was in the mood to recognize or acknowledge the joke. In fact, they had been hoping he would land on one side or the other of their favorite issue of the moment. The fact that he hadn't done that left them in puzzled silence. Which was exactly what he wanted. Now he had their full attention, rather than half an ear that was just listening for what it wanted to hear before the mouth started talking again. Now Lorne truly had the (admittedly badly slanted) floor.