A/N: Thanks to all who have reviewed. They are appreciated. This chapter continues some crossover with SG1. I have tried to be consistent with the series, but in my version Antarctica still has a ZPM

Disclaimer: Stargate: SG1, Stargate: Atlantis, all their characters and locations, are the intellectual property of others. This amateur work is not intended to infringe on any of their copyrights.

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Best Laid Plans

SGC, Cheyenne Mountain

Daniel came into the briefing room late to see that SG1 and General Landry were already in place.

"Sorry I'm late," he said as he took a seat.

Landry just looked at him and said, "Colonel Mitchell, what's our status?"

"The Daedalus just arrived and we are going over its status at this time. They lost one F-302 in the previous battle, and they had quite a bit of damage. They repaired a lot while en route, but we are helping with the final push. The Odyssey is in orbit with F-302s ready. They can maneuver with sublight engines only, but that shouldn't be a problem. Both ships have a full complement of pilots." He paused. "We have also transported nuclear warheads to both ships for delivery by ring if we can get through their shields."

"Ok, how's the data, Colonel Carter?"

"We have finished the review of what Atlantis was able to salvage and send plus data from the Daedalus' encounter with the hives. There isn't a lot of information, but we have Hermiod's attempts at penetrating their shields. We can build on that. The Daedalus also has some of the retrovirus that they were attempting to introduce to the hive ships. If we have an opportunity, we might be able to try that tactic as well."

"And Dr. Jackson, what is the status of the chair in Antarctica?"

"We have tried every person with the ATA gene in the chair, and none of them can launch more than one drone at a time. We aren't sure what the problem is. The people with the gene therapy can turn on the chair, but aren't able to launch any drones."

The others looked disturbed at this turn of events.

Looking down at his hands, Daniel said, "I think we should ask Jack to help."

General Landry paused, and looked at Colonel Samantha Carter. "Do you think he will come?"

Sam Carter stared him straight in the eye. "Of course he will, sir."

"Teal'c?"

"O'Neill will return to assist us."

"I'd like to go get him, explain our situation with the chair," said Daniel.

Landry made eye contact with each member of his best team, getting nods from Mitchell and Carter.

"Do it," he said. "OK, people, we have a maximum of four days to complete our preparations. Let's get finished in three. Dismissed."

As Landry left the room, Daniel looked at Sam and asked, "Do you want to come with?"

Carter looked down, suddenly uncomfortable. "No, I'm needed here. I'll see you when you get back." With that, she left as well.

Jackson and Mitchell followed her, Daniel to catch a flight to Minnesota, and Mitchell to return to assisting the Odyssey.

Aboard the Hive

Colonel John Sheppard bent over the cockpit of the F-302, trying to extract the radio. Since he was no longer easily mobile, Rodney and Ronon were now on hunting and gathering duty. He gave a sharp tug, and the unit came out of the cockpit. He limped over to a crate so he could examine the radio for how he could hook it up to a dart. This project was McKay's, but he thought he could give it a start.

As he rested the radio on his lap to get a better look at it, he brushed his wound, setting his leg on fire. He was stripped to his boxers to keep pressure from the gash, so he could easily see the bandage that was now soaked with blood, as well as the angry red lines around the edges of the cut. He drank some water and poured some over his head, carefully avoiding the radio. He was getting a fever, and they still had at least three days to go.

Studiously ignoring his leg, he turned back to the radio and began examining its power connections.

Somewhere in Minnesota

Daniel Jackson looked at the cabin in the middle of nowhere. He had been able to track down O'Neill through the Air Force database, and, given the seriousness of the situation, he had received permission to take a helicopter out to the property. Unfortunately, the chopper had to land half a mile away, so he'd walked up the long drive. Approaching the door, he knocked.

The door was jerked open by a surprised Jack O'Neill. He had on a plaid flannel shirt over a t-shirt with jeans that had seen better days. He also had a half peeled potato in his hand.

"Daniel!"

"Uh, hi, Jack. Can I come in?"

O'Neill looked around as if checking that everything was ok, then said "sure."

Daniel stepped into a one room cabin with a loft. The kitchen area was to the left, the stairs to the loft directly in front, and a living/dining area to the right.

"I had no idea you were coming."

"Well, you don't have a phone, so I couldn't call."

Pause. "Right," said Jack as he went back to a pot on the stove. "Let me get this soup finished and we can chat while it simmers." He went back to cutting up the potato.

"Actually, Jack, we don't have that kind of time. You see, the wraith in the Pegasus galaxy have found the coordinates for Earth and are on their way."

"And this affects me how?"

"Well, we've just had a rough battle with the Ori at the super gate, so our ability to defend the planet is not so great. Actually, the Prometheus was destroyed, and the Odyssey was badly damaged. The Daedalus is back, but there are two of these hive ships on the way. So we need the chair."

Jack looked over at Daniel as he stirred in some spices.

"I thought now that you knew about the gene you could find folks to help you out."

Daniel walked over to the stove to smell what was cooking. "Uh, yeah, we have about forty, but they can't launch more than one drone at a time."

Jack took a sip and added a little salt. "I assume you think I could do better?"

Daniel ran his hand over his neck. "Well, at least you've done it before. If nothing else we could put you in the chair and measure its activity compared to others with the gene."

"So you want me to go to Antarctica. Again. Knowing how I feel about it."

"Well, uh, yes, we do. Jack, it's just this one time, and remember that Earth may hang in the balance."

O'Neill dished up a bowl of soup and shoved it at Daniel. "Earth always hangs in the balance. Now eat. I don't want to waste this."

As Daniel began to sip his hot soup, O'Neill grabbed a duffle bag and began to pack.

Hive

"I knew you would get some weird wraith infection. And you are the only one who can fly a dart. We are so screwed." Rodney McKay was pacing close to the F-302 as he tore open the last power bar.

"Settle down, McKay. Remember, I fly with my hands and my head, not my legs. I can still get us out of here." Sheppard wiped the sweat off his forehead and grabbed another piece of strange fruit. This type was lime green, and Rodney wouldn't touch it fearing a citrus reaction.

Ronon grunted. "That's if you can get to the dart."

"Well, I've been meaning to talk about that." He peeled the fruit, finding a texture like avocado and a taste like a tangerine. As he took a bite, he leaned forward, grimacing as his leg was jostled.

"Our best estimate puts us three days from Earth. I think we need to take some precautions. First, I think we need to keep watch. We don't want to drop out of hyperspace while we're asleep. So, one person awake at all times." He glanced at Ronon who was smirking. Suddenly he realized Ronon had been keeping watch every time they'd slept.

"Second, I think tomorrow we need to collect as much food and water as we can during the day and then not gather again. We don't want to be scattered on the ship when the wraith start moving toward the darts."

"Great, so now that we're down to citrus my choices are anaphylactic shock or hypoglycemia. At least it won't matter if you splatter me across space since I'll be dead anyway."

Ronon shoved the last of the power bar into McKay's mouth. John nodded his thanks.

"Finally, I'm not going to be able to get upstairs to the dart alone, and I'm afraid it might take me too long. So I think we should move up there tomorrow and install the radio and the IFF transponder."

Ronon raised an eyebrow. "IFF?"

"Identify friend or foe," said Rodney, around a mouthful of power bar. "All military craft have them so they don't accidentally shoot each other when they get trigger happy. Doesn't always work."

"Believe me, it may be the difference between a hostile question and a hostile missile up our asses. Is the F-302 ready to blow?"

"Of course. I completed that work days ago. We just have to set the timer and get out."

"Ok," said Sheppard, holding on to his patience as the pain in his leg throbbed. Then we'll move up to the launching tubes and select a dart. We'll fix it up, gather food, and then sleep up there until we drop out of hyperspace. When that happens, Ronon will get me into the dart, and Rodney will come down here to set the timer. Ronon, you will need to get down here quick after I'm in so I can pick you both up. Is that it?"

"There is only the slight problem of the fever you are developing which will probably have you out of your mind by tomorrow, not that the difference will be noticeable."

Almost gritting his teeth, John said, "That's why we're saving the Tylenol. So I can have a big dose before I fly. Now, I'll take first watch tonight, so you guys go ahead and settle."

Rodney found a spot, curled up and was soon asleep. Ronon stared at Sheppard for awhile and, when he was satisfied he was holding it together, he, too, sacked out.

John Sheppard looked at his teammates and sighed. The fever was getting to him, and the area around the gash was now developing red stripes around it. As he settled down to keep watch, he reviewed their plan, trying to keep his mind off his leg. Gradually, however, his thoughts turned to Atlantis. He wondered how Elizabeth was faring and if he would ever see her again. Given the long shot of this plan, he figured maybe it was ok if she already thought him dead. He wished, however, that there were not so much unsaid between them. Wincing as he moved into a more comfortable position, John leaned back and considered everything he would tell her if he ever got the chance.

Atlantis

It was time for the weekly check-in with Earth, and Dr. Elizabeth Weir was not looking forward to it. She moved to the control room with her laptop and checked on all the reports that they would be sending. Finally, she asked the technicians to dial Earth's gate address. As soon as the wormhole was established, she looked into her laptop's camera and hailed the SGC.

"Stargate Command, this is Weir."

"This is Stargate Command. Hello, Dr. Weir." The face of General Hank Landry appeared on the laptop's screen. He looked like he had not slept in some time.

"Good morning, General. I am sending our data now. Please acknowledge."

Landry looked aside, got confirmation, and nodded to her. "The Daedalus arrived two days ago, and we are working to be ready for the wraith. Do you have any additional information on their whereabouts?"

"No, sir. Dr. Zelenka predicted that the hive ships would be slower than the Daedalus, by around four days. Therefore, they should appear in about two more days. Our long range scanners have not picked up any more wraith activity in our area, so there is a good chance the two hives did not share their information about Earth with the other hives."

"I certainly hope so. We are currently trying to get the Antarctica chair working, but we aren't having much luck."

Elizabeth glanced away, remembering an excitable scientist telling a cocky Air Force pilot to visualize Earth's place in the solar system. Banishing those thoughts, she turned back to the general to hear him ask about the missing men.

"No, sir, still no word. They have come back from worse, but we are losing hope."

"I understand, Elizabeth." General Landry paused for a moment, noting her thickened voice and tired face. He knew she wouldn't want to hear this, but he had to broach the subject. "We will need to consider replacements in the near future."

"Yes, sir. I understand. I think, however, we can wait a little longer."

"Understood. I will, however, begin gathering names for your consideration. Also, as soon as this crisis is over, the International Council will want a complete report. Please be prepared to return to Earth if necessary." He paused. "Since we may be rather busy next week, why don't you wait for us to contact you. If we succeed, we'll move the ZPM here to make the contact. If we don't succeed, I don't want you to waste the power if there is no one here to talk to you. Good luck, Elizabeth. SGC out."

"Understood, General. I expect to hear from you soon. And good luck to all of you. Atlantis out."

Elizabeth shut her laptop and indicated to the technician to shut down the gate. She returned to her office, but couldn't concentrate. Considering replacements! She couldn't bear the thought. They still had not mourned.

Tapping her earpiece, she informed Major Lorne and Dr. Zelenka that she would be taking a few hours for a break, then she headed out to the north pier. No one saw her again until the next morning.

Hive

The next morning, Ronon and McKay headed off for the water and food runs needed to keep them ok for a few days. Ronon had taken over for John after around six hours, and John was still asleep, though very restless. They decided to leave him sleeping while they made the first water trip.

When they got back, having filled all the water containers they had, Sheppard was thrashing around.

"Colonel, wake up." McKay jostled John's shoulder, trying to bring him back to consciousness. Sheppard jerked awake and reared back away from McKay and knocked his leg.

"Crap, Rodney, why did you have to startle me?" He was holding his leg perfectly still and trying to breath through the pain.

"Well, excuse me but we thought you'd want to know we were back with water." Looking at John's sweaty face and feverish eyes, he offered one of the canteens. "I think you should go ahead and get some of this in you, then we can refill it."

John took the canteen and drank thirstily. "Thanks." He poured some over his head and soaked his shirt before wiping it over his chest.

McKay turned to their meager supplies and pulled out the role of gauze. It was getting thin. "We need to change your bandage…"

"After we move. No sense getting it all bloody and having to sit there with it." John was leaning against the F-302's side with his head thrown back. "Are you guys going after food before or after we move."

"Before." Ronon was nothing if not definite.

"Fine. I'll just stay here then and dream of a maze of twisty passages that all look the same."

Ronon looked over to McKay in question.

"Just a reference to an ancient computer game. He's not delirious yet."

The two of them headed toward the aft storage areas while Sheppard tried to get more sleep.

Ancient Outpost, Antarctica

"Concentrate, Jack."

"I am concentrating, Daniel. It just won't work. There's something blocking it." Brigadier General Jack O'Neill (retired), sitting in the weapons chair in the Ancient Outpost in Antarctica, was frustrated and tired, and getting testy. He and Daniel Jackson had been trying to get the chair to work since they arrived the night before. O'Neill had been able to launch one drone the first time he sat down, and nothing since.

"Could it be out of drones? We did use a lot of them against Anubis."

Daniel looked at the technician working with them. "Our instruments are showing that there are still drones present, sir. We don't know why you can't activate them."

O'Neill straightened up in the chair and stood up. "I need a break. Is the coffee still in that direction?"

"Sure, Jack, go ahead. We'll call you if we find anything different."

Daniel watched O'Neill leave, and sighed in his own frustration. He tapped his earpiece to get a connection back to the SGC.

"SGC, this is Jackson. Come in."

"Daniel, this is Carter. How's it going?"

"Not so good. We still can't get the chair to fire more than one drone. All of our instruments show there are still drones left, but none work. We may not be able to count on it for any defense."

There was a pause as Carter considered the import of this information. "Acknowledged, Daniel. I'll inform the General. SGC out."

Daniel Jackson slumped down on the chair platform in exhaustion and frustration. To have the most powerful weapon in the galaxy, and to have it just not work, was a cruel act of fate. Rubbing his hands over his face, he decided some rest might help, so he got up and headed for the temporary quarters assigned him.

Hive

John Sheppard moaned in his sleep and tossed his head. Ronon was on watch, and he leaned over to quiet the man so their position would not be compromised. Sheppard was hot to the touch, and his skin was dry, a bad sign. He poured some of their water onto John's shirt and sponged off his forehead. The feverish man quieted some, and Ronon went back to his thoughts.

They were currently in an alcove next to a wraith dart. There was very little cover here, so Ronon was particularly tense and watchful.

The move, done earlier that day, had been agony for Sheppard. He had a hard time walking, and Ronon had to carry him up one of the ladders. The laceration had opened again, and when they got to the launching area and selected the alcove, Sheppard had collapsed and lost consciousness for awhile. Rodney had used that time as a chance to change the bandage while Ronon retrieved the rest of their food, water, and the other supplies they would need before leaving, if they were successful in leaving.

The radio had been installed in the dart, and the IFF transponder as well. They had enough food and water for three days, but they expected to leave in less than two. Now all they could do was wait.

Ronon watched Sheppard begin to toss again and put the damp shirt back on his forehead. He admitted to himself that he had doubts about their success. The only positive note he could find was that the explosion of the F-302 would destroy a hive ship. At that thought he smiled. Ronon could always support that kind of action.

TBC