Murphy's First Law: "All things work toward decay."
by Fandomatic
•
Murphy's Law of Remainders.
"War does not determine who is right, war determines who is left."
Dr. M. Rodney McKay, the original, grimaced at the last Wraith shaft they had as the stargate shut down once again. He didn't have to look at his only double left to know the panic that lay there just under the surface. Something was not right with their timeline. They shouldn't still exist. This little deserted planet should have rearranged itself without them on it. But nothing had happened again. They were still standing among the boulders, listening to the wind whistle around the monoliths to every side, and hunching their shoulders against the sting of the sand peppering their faces that made it around the wind break.
"It's a Gilligan gate!" Sheppard's voice broke through his worries with typical timing. He gestured meaningfully at their isolated surroundings with the towering boulders and the dry wind stirring up the sand at their feet. "So far, everything we've tried has left us stranded here without a—"
"Colonel!" Teyla's head whipped around and her stance settled and lowered as she searched the boulders. "I am sensing Wraith!"
Something had changed, Rodney realized as P90s snapped up in reaction to her announcement, but not for the better.
Instantly on the defensive, the team heard Calwell's voice crackle with static from Sheppard's radio. "Sheppard, this is Caldwell. We've got a ship dropping out of hyperspace on our scanner — Make that two, no, three ships. Well, is it three or five? — Son of a bitch! Shields up! Return fire!"
"Rodney, dial the Alpha site!" Sheppard immediately pointed at the gate.
"Way ahead of you!" The first Rodney didn't need Sheppard's prompting. He was already punching symbols to beat the Wraith from dialing in and trapping them.
"You realize we can't let them have the ZedPM or the Atlantis crystal with this Wraith shaft?" Slippered McKay's eyes darted to Sheppard's before he went to work over the ZPM socket. They all knew they were expendable when it came to the time machine. Zelenka belatedly joined in to help disconnect it under the DHD seconds after Rodney finished dialing. The 'Gilligan' gate whooshed open and Rodney dropped down next to Zelenka to pull out the Atlantis crystal tray. As he worked quickly with Zelenka in disconnecting their engineering, he heard Sheppard acknowledge Caldwell and advise him that they had successfully dialed out.
"Well, that's the only good news because we've got three hive ships on our scanners with a number of cruisers right on top of us! We're not going to last up here. We're trying to keep them off your backs. How soon can you make it through the gate with the … equipment?"
"Just give me a few minutes!" Rodney felt the ground shake underneath him as a Wraith blast rocked the foundation of the stargate. It was followed by the sounds of harvest beams, weapons fire and Wraith darts buzzing overhead. The boom of pulverized rock filled his ears as the air filled with an instant dust cloud and raining debris. The staccato sounds of P90 fire echoed between the boulders. Zelenka's wide eyes met Rodney's under the DHD and they started pulling connections with massive yanks and little regard for the damage they were doing to the DHD. Another part of his brain analyzed that as a good thing. He heard Sheppard curse as he ducked down next to them and yelled back into his radio.
"We're taking fire from Stargate north! We've got dart activity!" Rodney felt Sheppard's hand tugging at his sleeve as he pulled the crystal tray free of the DHD. "Rodney, we have to go!"
"No kidding!" Rodney wiggled out with Zelenka and he could hardly believe the amount of choking dust that blew through the air. He could hear the growing thunder of distant fire and the pulse-pounding drum of a Wraith ship passing close overhead. Ignoring the cloud of debris, it fired in a search pattern in an effort to take them out with massive measures. The blasts and thrum of their engines steadily grew louder as he staggered to his feet next to Sheppard and Zelenka.
"Zelenka! Beckett!" Slippered McKay waved the scientists over to the socket and prepared to lift the rear corner of the sled that housed the ZPM. Rodney tucked the crystal tray inside the coiled conduits packed around the ZPM casing and grabbed the lead corner. The last Wraith shaft had been shoved into the mass of coils and its flowering tip stuck out like a torch. Together, with Beckett and Zelenka taking up corner positions, the four started walking their dismantled time machine toward the active gate under the cover of blowing dust.
Behind, he heard Sheppard calling to his team to take up positions defending their retreat through the gate as the sounds of explosions grew ominously closer. He vaguely realized his earpiece wasn't working as the confusion of the scene washed over him. Brief flashes of light reduced to glowing sheet-lightning marked the distant landscape of towering boulders. Distant booms and more immediate concussions of energy threw up a veil of dust and rock that rained steadily from above and choked the area.
A Wraith blast pulsed just east of their position and the explosion of rock ripped into the rock monoliths ringing the gate. As the spray cut down two of Sheppard's marines, Rodney looked ahead toward the blue glow that marked the position of the gate and looked at Beckett in panic.
Beckett's jaw set in determination. "Go on without me!" He dropped his corner to run toward the injured marines.
"Carson!" Both McKay's protested and then watched him go.
It was almost surreal when Zelenka moved forward to take up the slack and doggedly picked up their pace. Another boom split the air around them and Rodney felt his burden sag behind him. A glance back revealed another deserted post and he couldn't locate his missing double in the haze of confusion. Rodney shifted his hand back to the corner and met Radek's shocked eyes above his slipping glasses. Feeling a bit like a pall bearer, the two stumbled on the last few feet toward the beckoning event horizon and safety. Just before they lurched through, Rodney glanced back again at the vague forms shifting in the dust storm and heard the familiar P90 fire along with Wraith ground fire lighting up the sheltered enclosure. The Wraith were closing in.
The step onto the forested Alpha site greeted them with cold silence that contrasted sharply with the chaotic confusion they'd left behind.
Rodney and Radek carried the ZPM socket between them with a vapor trail marking their panting breaths and their feet cutting a path through the thin layer of snow covering the ground. Each step cut a perfect, wet boot print — or in Rodney's case, a slippered print — leaving the ground wet and exposed with icy crystals. Rodney's heels touched the wet layer and he could feel the cold soaking into his toes through Jennifer's bunny slippers. As they set down the power socket gratefully, a Wraith blast tore out of the event horizon and singed the conifer tree trunks behind them. The next bolt that ripped past them into the trees spurred them into action. Rodney's bunny ears flopped crazily as he raced Zelenka for a prime spot behind the DHD.
Shoulder to shoulder they huddled behind the safety of the ancient console. Hearing the gate eject another body, Zelenka rose eagerly before Rodney could yank him back. In horror, Rodney heard a Wraith blast and watched it knock the little engineer backwards. He fumbled with his sidearm and it finally cleared his holster as his eyes riveted on Radek's crumpled body. With his gun shaking and extended, he took a quick peek around the base at a Wraith drone advancing toward him. The drone's masked head swiveled and zeroed in on his movement. The Wraith rifle started to rise and Rodney blindly started firing everything he had.
The bullets did little to slow it down. He may have missed most of the target area because he was trying to hide ineffectively behind his 9mm and shoot at the same time. He couldn't see the drone and his only weapon ran out of ammunition without even putting a dent in the Wraith's advance. He looked at the open slide with horror and squeezed his eyes shut.
Behind the drone, the gate pumped out five more team members. The welcome sound of Ronon's gun discharging brought Rodney's eyes open with relief. The Wraith drone jerked and sprawled into the snow face-first. It didn't move.
"Oh, thank God," he breathed out and lowered his empty gun that he'd been cowering behind.
"Shut it down, Rodney!" Sheppard's voice brought Rodney back to life. He reached over and slapped the reset and the event horizon winked out with a gasp.
The immediate silence of the forest only served to emphasize his shock as he took in the sight of his wounded team leader. Sheppard held his side as the blood seeped around his fingers while Carson half dragged, half carried him to the DHD. Beckett had blood up to his elbows, but none of it looked like it belonged to the Scottish doctor. He eased Sheppard down and unzipped the tac vest. He worked quickly and had Sheppard's side exposed in a matter of seconds before he started unwrapping field bandages in an attempt to staunch the flow.
Teyla limped along supporting Slippered McKay, who would've looked white as a sheet if not for the red rash. An open head wound poured blood into his eyes, blinding him, and he clutched a bloodied arm that slowly dripped into the new snow all the way to the console.
Ronon took one look at the downed Wraith and holstered his gun with a showy twirl. He checked Zelenka's form and grunted at the stunned engineer.
"Where's everyone else?" Rodney's breath caught as he already knew from their grim expressions.
Teyla shook her head and let McKay's double sink down next to Sheppard who had closed his eyes. "They did not survive the rock explosion," Teyla supplied. Slippered McKay's expression sickened as he caught an unguarded glimpse of Carson's work and squeezed his eyes shut. As Teyla ripped open a bandage for Rodney's double, Rodney silently agreed with him that it was better not to watch Carson doing his voodoo.
"But what happened to the Daedalus?" Rodney touched his ear piece that had stopped working in the midst of battle. None of them would meet his eyes.
"We don't know." The colonel's voice came out strained. John's eyes opened and he ignored Carson patching up his side to look straight at the original McKay. "We've been set up, Rodney!"
Even hurt, Sheppard couldn't avoid the obvious and Rodney barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "I got that when the Wraith showed up." He grimaced at Carson's dressings. "Is he going to be all right?"
"Aye," Beckett nodded easily. "I kin patch him up."
"Well, what about me?" Slippers' caustic voice interrupted. "I'm dying over here with multiple dire wounds bleeding out a goodly portion of my bodily fluids and Xena, here, isn't equipped to handle this!" He pointed at his head which Teyla dressed with a sharper yank than necessary. "Ow! We're talking about my brains here!"
"Well, it's not like we donae have a spare, Rodney," Carson reminded pointedly and kept working over Sheppard.
The grin forming on John's face instantly twisted into pain and he shifted against the DHD. "Don't make me laugh," he gasped.
"Anyway, he's the spare," Rodney grumbled as Ronon knelt next to him in the snow.
The former runner glanced at the gate and the wounded men uneasily. "We need to move. The Wraith will follow us."
The first Rodney grinned crookedly. "Not without this," he pulled a DHD crystal from his pocket. "The Gilligan gate is broken. They can't trace us and they're not getting off that deserted planet through the stargate." He waved the crystal triumphantly before he stashed it back in his pocket.
"Nice," Sheppard smiled and closed his eyes again.
"Well, you gave me the idea when you called it a 'Gilligan' gate. I thought it'd be nice to give the Wraith nowhere to go, uh, after us when the gate shut down, anyway."
"Aye, it's very nice, Rodney," Beckett agreed warmly.
The Satedan's eyes came alive with a determined flicker. "The Wraith have been behind this all along."
"You think?" The spare McKay snorted. "Even with my brains leaking out of my skull I can see we've been going at this all backwards! The Wraith started this on G2R-7Y9 where they captured me — well, not me but one of me!"
Rodney winced. "Yeah, McKay III obviously tipped them off. How else did they find us in the future? He squealed. They know about us. They know about the monks. McKay III told them everything!" His bitterness filled his voice. "He was the beginning of this whole series of mistakes. We've been going backwards in time right up to the moment he spilled everything! That's how they found us — he told them where and when! He was even carrying the 'Gilligan' scanner as proof!"
The spare McKay's shaking hand scratched his cheek unconsciously and his eyes mirrored Rodney's bitterness. "He probably even told them about the ZedPM rumor that took Lorne to Monksville."
The first Rodney's jaw slackened with new insight. "Oh, God. What're the odds of there being five Wraith shafts in the temple?" He looked straight at his double's dismayed eyes.
"Four of mine and one Wraith shaft…" Surplus McKay agreed.
Then Rodney's eyes fell on the last Wraith shaft poking out from the coils of the ZPM power socket. "But they tipped their hand too early," he realized with growing hope. He sprang up from the ground and pulled the shaft from the sled. "That's why he squealed! Don't you see? He knew it wouldn't change anything except the Wraith jumping the gun because they think we're out of Wraith shafts! We have one chance left. They don't know when or where I'm going from here!" Just as suddenly his elation drained from his face. "Oh, crap. That's why they painted me blue!" He looked at his red hands holding the last Wraith shaft in shock and sank back down to the ground next to Sheppard and Beckett.
Teyla's eyes widened and she met Ronon's narrowing eyes. "It was a recognition signal," she agreed.
"Yeah, don't mess with the real McKay!" Rodney's shocked face turned to Sheppard's sickening expression. His stomach twisted in horror at the fate of his doubles. "They knew we'd try to change history, so they stopped anyone carrying a Wraith shaft that wasn't blue."
"None of my selves made it," whispered Slippered McKay. "I mean, look at me! Look at him! I'm red!"
"They even told us it was safe passage to the gate," Ronan rumbled ominously with the promise of violence in his eyes. "They're collaborators."
"Or Wraith worshipers," whispered Teyla. "But I did not sense any Wraith when we were there."
Rodney glanced at her with sorrow. "They probably knew you could sense them." He looked down at his red hands in shame. "Squealer, here."
"The blue paint, Rodney," Sheppard gasped out. "That's your passage back. They won't stop you if you've got on the blue paint!" He paused to draw in a shallow breath. "You go back to day one as Smurf boy and meet up with us on the way to the gate."
"Easy there, Colonel," cautioned Beckett.
Sheppard ignored the doctor and motioned for his tac vest where Carson had tossed it near Teyla. She handed it to him and he opened a pocket. "Rodney, you've got to go back and destroy all the shafts!" He took out a brick of C-4 and a detonator and shoved it into the physicist's red hands. "We'll be there to back you up."
Rodney nodded hesitantly.
"You did good, Rodney," Sheppard assured. "We got the message, loud and clear. This time, you're going to get to us in time." His lips tightened at McKay's uncertain expression. "Look, McKay III didn't change squat. He just made the Wraith tip their hand too soon." John held McKay's eyes and repeated, "You did good, Rodney."
•
Relative Target: One Day Ago
Dr. Rodney McKay, astrophysicist and chief science officer of the Atlantis expedition, felt utterly foolish again as he stepped through the event horizon and his borrowed boots sank into the cushioned dirt that was Gerryland or Gearamania or Gerital, but might as well have been known as Dagobah. He was pretty certain he cut a silly figure as a blue Smurf squashing through the misty swamps again with his stupid 'ceremonial' staff, which he hadn't considered 'stupid' or simply 'ceremonial' since the arrival of McKay IV. Two steps into the Monk Marsh and he was instantly assailed by flying swarms of stinging, buzzing insects that were bent on burrowing into his ears or sucking his blood from his neck again.
He swatted them away with flailing arms and restrained himself from cursing aloud. The swarm followed him as he set off along the raised path and into the cover of the tangled growth of swamp trees.
Behind him the gate shut down with a rasp as Sneakers McKay picked up his pace. That was one exit that was open to him now, but he resolved not to use it. He hadn't gated directly back since the timing had to be so precise. With only an hour to spare, he was cutting it close, but this time he was going to stop 'himself' in time. Everyone was depending on him. Sheppard was depending on him.
At the thought of Sheppard's deathly pallor, Sneakers McKay grimly refused to go there and turned his mind back to immediate survival and getting back to his team in time.
As he hurried down the raised road, the swamp swarm buzzed him happily and zeroed in on the bright blue moving flower. They must have had some kind of communication that called their friends over for a happy meal because their numbers started to multiply again.
With a muffled oath, Sneakers pumped his arms and spotted the oozing slime just off the path that Teyla had smeared over his neck. The black stink bomb seemed to seep from every tree trunk root system — at least, he hoped it was plant-based as he scooped up a glob with his nose pinched closed and coated his own neck with the pasty nasty.
The bugs didn't like the black muck either and they fled the scene of the crime. And it was a crime, an assault against his senses. The tarry substance stunk when its wet interior was exposed to the air. The slime oozed under his collar and immediately started chaffing at his skin. He continued to breathe through his mouth from experience. The intense stench from his neck caused nausea, but it wouldn't last long as the surface muck resealed itself relatively quickly as it released the stink-bomb effect.
At least the blue face paint on his face and hands didn't itch this time, but only because Carson had laced the paint with some sort of numbing concoction that deadened his nerves in his skin so he wouldn't scratch. Teyla and Ronon had collaborated in making the abominable blue mixture and his careful interrogation revealed it contained no deadly toxins. That 'no deadly' part worried him as he hurried on to his rendezvous because that left all the nuances of discomfort open just under fatal. Ronon wasn't too particular that way.
The distant sound of beating wings brought his attention back to the bog where an unseen bird took flight. The raised path he followed wound around massive trunks and through large pools of mud with barely a coating of water smoothing their surfaces. Reeds strangled the open mud ponds and dinosaur vines with elephant leaves choked his view between the trees. Mists and vapor rose from the cesspool and his brain, unbidden, listed the various deadly gasses likely to cause such a phenomenon. When his eye caught the slow movement of a snake, he forgot to pant and inhaled sharply through his nose in sudden fright.
His stomach rebelled from the stink bomb. Again.
He retched uncontrollably into one of the vapor pools where the surface bog wasn't even visible. With his deadly surroundings forgotten, he emptied his stomach until he had nothing left. The nausea passed and he rinsed out his mouth with a wash of canteen water and spit into the reeds.
Miserable, he resumed his pace into the marsh and soon reached the shallow lake with the land bridge laying a straight path to the far shore. He could see the far edge of the open swamp that was sparsely dotted with wading swamp trees. The road was swallowed up immediately by the primordial growth at the far side of the lake. In the center of the lake rose a rocky island connecting the land bridge. It offered safety and seclusion from all approaches. Ronon had assured him he could hide on the sloping rise of the island where it overlooked the land bridge to the stargate. He had squeezed his shoulder and rumbled, "Trust me, it's the perfect spot to get to us."
At the thought of Ronon, his eyes sought out the cesspool at his feet that was responsible for half his misery on Gerryterrible. He couldn't distinguish between the mud holes and determinedly hurried past the spot toward the island, intent on putting the muddy boot behind him. He would at least stop one misstep on this journey.
When he crossed the first land bridge, he searched the abrupt face of the island and found Ronon's description of the dry roost overlooking the raise road was accurate. The plants and overgrowth camouflaged his sitting form against the rock around him and he leaned back in his dry perch to wait.
The view toward one of many missteps pulled him unwillingly back into memories he'd rather forget, memories of humiliation at the hands of wrinkled old men — memories that were occurring to his double on this planet as he sat there waiting…
•
For the chance at getting a ZPM, Dr. Rodney McKay had swallowed his irritation with the induction ceremony that had turned into a marathon of tolerance. His lack of venting had simply increased the explosion to come as he stored up his grievances against the foolishness he was forced to endure before they brought out their final test.
The 'gene test' proved to be an ancient scanner.
Suffering with biting comments that longed to be unleashed, he bit his tongue and let the wrinkled old men paint him blue for his entrance into the inner sanctum. The final reveal had been so crushingly disappointing, that he'd accepted the stupid stick with the sole intention of leaving with what little dignity he could. And then they'd displayed him like a prized possession and paraded him around the walls of the monastery. He clutched the ceremonial stick like a deposed king and his expression dared his team to comment on his appearance — especially when the monks had assured them that their safe passage to the gate hinged on him carrying the ceremonial staff with his blue paint. Evidently, they'd spotted hostile natives in the area and they only honored the blue badge of the monks.
His brooding exit from Monksville hadn't exactly lasted out of earshot as he reacted to Sheppard's 'Blue boy' and the valve came unstuck with the first of many snarls, "That's so not funny!" And he poured out his heart to his team about his personal misery and the injustice of the Pegasus Galaxy that rewarded heroic actions with humiliation and misery. Once started, the avalanche didn't abate. Rodney had days of acid to release and he was focused.
He'd completely ignored the warning signs his team gave him. Sheppard was the first to bail. He abruptly rearranged their usual marching order and took point. Ronon wasn't happy about it and resisted the order right in front of him.
"They're still watching us."
"It's not like they're going to miss us coming, now is it?" Sheppard looked pointedly at McKay batting the flies away and added meaningfully, "They're keeping their distance."
"If McKay kept quiet, they'd have to move in." Ronon Dex flexed his fist and his body language spoiled for a fight, but he was always spoiling for a fight.
Sheppard enunciated each word as he glanced between the two men, "I like distance." Sheppard definitely didn't want Ronon sneaking up on a native and starting anything. It was a testament to his misery that Rodney ignored the comment aimed so squarely at his whining and actually agreed with Sheppard.
"Well, I'd like a little distance from these swamp flies. The nasty things seem to think I'm lunch. Can we move out, please! I'd like to get this prickly paint off me as soon as possible and that's not going to happen if you dawdle here in Geriafrica!"
"Gerratia," Teyla patiently corrected, missing his witty comment completely. She was the next one to bail out, but she lasted the longest in his company. His cranky analysis of insect-carrying diseases as the bane of mankind, followed by moaning for an insect repellant and slapping his neck silly, on the heels of complaining about what the blue paint was likely to do to his fair skin, finally broke her cool resolve.
Teyla rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Rodney, do you wish for a cure so the bugs will stop bothering you?" Her tone sharpened.
"What? Have you been holding out on me? What cure?"
"This." Teyla took a step toward the swamp and scooped up a glob of black ooze. With horror, Rodney watched the glob of swamp slime coming toward him. Despite Rodney's stuttered protests, she'd smeared a good portion on the back of his neck. Immediately, Sheppard, the traitor who'd done nothing to stop her, covered his nose and started laughing.
"Oh!" Rodney gasped and pinched off his blue nose. "Oh, oh, oh, oh!" His eyes widened. "Oh, I think I'm gonna be sick," he moaned.
"It is best to breathe through your mouth while the marshroot oil releases the 'repellent,'" Teylas spoke with a nasal tone. "It will not last long, and the swarm has already left."
"It's repellant, all right," Sheppard agreed. "I'm repelled." And he backpedaled further away.
McKay's eyes started watering and he retched. Unable to hold it down, he took two steps toward the swamp and lost it over a mud puddle.
"So how long do we have to put up with … the stench?" Sheppard asked as Rodney heaved.
"About fifteen minutes," Teyla answered. "It tapers off quickly."
Ronon grunted in disgust. "Now they can smell us coming, too."
"This is worse than the flies!" Rodney choked out and fumbled for his canteen while he spat out his fury with a nasal venom. "Did I ask you for a cure? No! I asked what kind of cure you had! I thought you might have had the foresight to bring a can of Off to a swamp! I don't want any more of your kinds of cures — no thank you! Not if it involves smelly slime being placed on parts of my anatomy that are best left unsullied and free of chaffing!" He ended his outburst with a swish of water and spit his rinse into the muck.
"Did the bugs stop biting you or not?" Teyla asked reasonably.
Rodney resealed the canteen and glared without fear at the Athosian that could take him out without breaking a sweat. "Yes, yes they did, but it doesn't change the fact that my anatomy is not to be used as your personal finger-painting project, despite the fact that I've been painted this lovely bug-attracting color — for your protection, I might add!"
"All right," Sheppard intervened. "We're not going to forget you're a delicate flower, Rodney." He turned to Teyla. "Why don't you take our six." Sheppard returned to the business of taking point and left Rodney to follow Ronon.
The Satedan didn't hang around him very long. Ronon came and went like a ghost into the paths of the swamp until he was forced back to Rodney's side to cross the land bridge. He walked silently along the road next to Rodney, who spewed his misery to anyone that would listen, and occasionally shot him glowering looks. As soon as the island rising out of the swamp grew near, Ronon grew scarce until he was forced back to McKay's side to complete the crossing of the shallow lake.
To Rodney the blue paint had felt like it was starting a pin-cushion convention on his cheeks. A sensation of prickly tingles was cause to worry in Rodney's book and Rodney never held worries in check. At least the intense smell of muck on his neck had abated. He no longer had to breathe through his mouth and was free to let his imagination and mouth wonder over the long-term effects of an unknown toxin.
As they approached the shore of the lake, his brain had just pictured a vivid scenario where his skin absorbed the toxin, turned a permanent blue, and he expired without enough time to shed the color before his own funeral. He was just getting wound up on his new tirade and had predicted a closed-casket funeral when the sensation in his cheeks prickled for attention. Rodney ended the monologue with a comment out of the blue. "God, this paint is starting to tingle in a really annoying way!"
Ronon, who hadn't said two words or more the entire way, chose that moment to respond. "If it bothers you so much, I know a trick to take your mind off it."
Rodney immediately doubted the Satedan's words. How could that excuse for evolution ever come up with something that could distract his mind from the facts. "I'm all ears, Conon. Please, do tell how my sizable mind can be so occupied as to forget the facts when I'm experiencing sensory overload here between getting painted up like a blueberry tart and slapped with the galaxy's odiferous prize for rotten muck?" He eyed Teyla behind him pointedly. She was just clearing the land bridge and following them back into the swamp.
"Forget it."
"Forget you mentioned it or 'forget it' with 'it' being this complete waste of time spent in a futile posture of meditation that has made every muscle I have scream in agony? How can I simply forget it when every step is excruciating pain? And to have it all end in a humiliating ceremony where Geriatric monks paint me up like a blueberry just to allow me passage into the interior chamber to see the ancestor's collection which amounted to what? Zilch, that's what! A giant-sized zilch where I am presented with one of many crappy ceremonial sticks," he waved the staff meaningfully, "and paraded around the grounds like a blue-ribbon—"
And that was when Ronon casually nudged him off the path and knee-deep into the mud with an innocent, "Oops."
Rodney's boot sank lower into the bog and Ronon, just as casually, grabbed his arm with the ceremonial staff to keep him from following his misstep with another one off the path. "Careful there."
"You…" Rodney pulled his foot loose and a massive amount of mud followed his leg out of the pool. "Damn it! Watch where you're going! Look at this! I'm soaked to the knee with slime! Geez! Now … aw … this, this really sucks!" He surveyed his leg that was now twice its normal size, layered in goop, with dismay. "My foot's soaked and my boot's wet…" Rodney took a few steps and felt the slime ooze between his toes as the boot squished loudly under his weight. "I can feel the slime between my toes, Ronon! This really, really sucks. No telling what billions of bacteria live in that brackish water," Rodney muttered and looked at the three with dawning horror. "We're not even close to the gate! Trench foot, athlete's foot, blisters, impetigo, take your pick! I'm evidently the main target of the universe today! I'll be lucky to keep my leg!"
Thud. SQUISH! Thud. SQUISH! Rodney was appalled at the sounds emanating from his feet.
•
TBC
Next chapter…Law of Reflection