Ch 7

The Goa'uld shifted the host body in the throne of the earth-ship, Daedalus. The humans called it the command seat, and it was unworthily uncomfortable. Somewhere in the back of the human mind he could sense the suppressed human consciousness watching all that the Goa'uld did. The inferior being foolishly clung to the hope that someone would notice that he wasn't himself. The hope was a persistent, nagging irritant to the Goa'uld. Beside him stood another nagging irritant. There had been a lot of those since he'd been assigned to this mission. He turned to regard Mr. Woolsey through the hosts eyes.

"Do you mind reminding me what the point of that was?" The Goa'uld within Caldwell referred to the information they'd just sent ahead to Atlantis, on the insistence of this pathetic specimen standing beside his throne. The presence would never be tolerated had the Goa'uld not been posing as a human himself. His only consolation was that if he continued to prove successful in this infiltration, he would rise in both status and power.

"Trust me Colonel," the insolent man spoke as though to an equal and motioned for both of them speak somewhere more privately. Once they were in a near-by office he continued, "In my experience I've learned to be sensitive to certain, shall we say, dynamics. These people risk their lives together every day, they will have become very close and we need to show some understanding of that. If we show up unannounced and suddenly try to launch an investigation they'll close ranks and protect Dr. McKay as though we were trying to harm him. We'd be treated like invaders, which we would be. This way, they have plenty of warning. They'll have lots of time to think about what we're trying to accomplish. They can see that we're on their side, that they will have valued input in the investigation process and so assurance that he'll be treated well. That will make it a lot easier on all of us in the long run. Believe me."

The Goa'uld rolled his host eyes, "How do you know you haven't given them the warning they need to just more successfully close ranks. Personally, I prefer an element of surprise. Our mission is to get McKay to answer our questions. That might be easier if we can catch him off-guard and harder if he has time to realize that he doesn't have to answer to us."

"I disagree, Colonel. This is a unique situation. And I remind you that we have additional instructions as to how Dr McKay is to be treated. I'd take those instructions seriously if I were you."

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-Atlantis – Briefing room -

When they'd first opened the files there had been a few quiet expletives. Carson had said a breathless 'bloody hell'. Elizabeth had said, 'Oh my God." Zelenka had said something John didn't understand. Now the conference room was completely quiet as they read, and re-read the message. John figured everyone had pretty much stopped re-reading a while ago actually. Now they, like him, were trying to decide how they felt. Apparently that had been this guy Woolsey's idea; that they should soak it all in now so they know what they're doing when they approach McKay about it later.

Angry. Sheppard finally decided that was how he felt. That, and a little hurt. He and the team had sat with McKay through all those meals and listened to him tell Sergeant Freeman all those stories about the special school for smart kids that he'd gone to. Granted, they were short and few as he always seemed to find a way to either get Freeman talking about his own training or else hide behind his lap-top and claim he was working on something that every life in Atlantis depended on. But still… when it came down to it… what this all showed was that after everything they'd been through, McKay didn't trust his team. He didn't trust John. As a leader, that stung.

It must have shown on his face because Elizabeth and Carson were looking at him with concern. Dr Heightmeyer wasn't really looking at anything. She was probably replaying every session she'd ever had with Rodney. Zelenka looked pretty stunned. He'd been staring at his laptop monitor with his hand over his mouth since he'd started on Carson and Heightmeyer's files. John hadn't really bothered looking at those.

"John? How are you feeling about all this?" Elizabeth sounded concerned too.

John wondered how honest he should be, "Well…I'm a little surprised that he never even hinted at it in all the time he's spent with his team."

Carson pursed his lips and huffed, "Well that's hardly a surprise now, is it. It's not exactly something I'd bring up around a camp-fire, or while I'm being shot at either. I'm more surprised he never mentioned anything of it to his physician. There could be serious complications." He motioned to the medical files.

"We're his team!" John clenched his teeth, "If it can affect him on the field we should know about it. And it obviously affects him."

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth used her diplomat tone, "I'm sure we all feel there were times when Rodney could have shared some of this with us, but chose not to. It's possible he doesn't even remember much of it. And Carson, don't you think any complications would have come up by now? Though I confess that I'm not really qualified to understand most of what's in your files. I'm sure John isn't either."

A blush of embarrassment quickly crossed Carson's face when he realized he'd failed to explain his portion of the information to the non-science participants of the meeting. He assumed a mask of medical professionalism before he began, "Of course. I'm sorry. Basically, the chamber he was found in was almost certainly a gas-chamber of some sort. A great variety of compounds, many of which couldn't be identified at the time, were found lining some of the tubes leading into the chamber and coating the chamber walls. There are no records of any blood samples being taken from the patient so it's impossible to say how much was in his system."

John considered that a moment, "Well, that sounds pretty serious. And I think it's pretty serious that he never mentioned it. Especially since I AM sure that he does remember."

Elizabeth lent forward and rested her arms on the table, "John, you know you and Rodney have both been involved in classified missions or projects in the past that neither of you can discuss. How is this so different?"

That was an easy question for John, "This is different. The other situations are national security, this is…"

He didn't get to finish because Zelenka suddenly slammed his hand down on the table and stood, rambling at John in loud Czech. John was beginning to think this guy had a temper. All he could do was stare at Zelenka until he was finished before asking, "Pardon?"

"I say you are idiot! And so are you!" He pointed at both Carson and John, "If you both think that this is about you. Of course he does not talk of it! Neither would you! It is not a question of whether he trusts you. He is only capable of so much trust because of this. You would be too. If we are his friends, we must teach him to trust."

"Dr. Zelenka is right." Heightmeyer finally spoke up. John had almost forgotten she was there. "About Rodney, I mean. If we pressure him about this it will only cause him to withdraw. He has to make the decision to open up about this, himself."

"What do you suggest, Dr. Heightmeyer?" Elizabeth seemed ready to defer the decision to the cities shrink. John didn't like that.

"I suggest that we give him his message from the Daedalus, and let him decide what he wants to do about it. We should let him know that we won't force him to talk to us about it. And we should remember that he's still the same man. He's as fit for work today as he was yesterday. Only our knowledge of him has changed. I think John is right about him remembering. That means he's been hiding a long time. Now that information is coming out on it's own I believe he'll gradually become more open to talking about it if we give him the chance."

Sheppard didn't like that at all, "So we just leave him alone and hope he comes around? What happens when the Daedalus gets here? Woolsey and Caldwell have a mission. They aren't going to just turn around and leave because he doesn't feel like talking."

"That's exactly what they'll do John." Elizabeth's answer surprised him, "He's a civilian. And he's a Canadian, not an American. This is a civilian run mission. We will do all we can to help him reach a point where he's willing to talk to them by the time they get here. But if he hasn't, they're just going to have to find some other way to get the information they need."

Carson shifted guiltily, still chagrined by Radek's scolding, "I will need to do a complete examination eventually. I didn't account for any of this when I've examined him before. I'd have been incredibly more thorough if I'd known. There could be long-term complications." He signed and ran a hand through his hair, "But, it can wait, considering how long it's waited already. No need to over-whelm him."

"Thank you Carson," Elizabeth offered a small smile of encouragement.

But John folded his arms, still pretty unhappy about the plan of no action, "What about the Trust?"

"It's a concern. But it's not an immediate concern. Rodney is safe here for now." Elizabeth's expression left no room for argument.

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Once Rodney had finished panicking over the fact that the Trust was hunting him he had reacted pretty much as they'd expected. Although initially calming him had taken Elizabeth and John repeating to him that the Trust had no way of knowing about Atlantis or even getting to Pegasus if they did, so he was perfectly safe. Once that had sunk in, it was like a wall had gone up between him and everyone in the room.

Elizabeth had expected that much. But she hadn't been prepared for the depth of his distrust, or for how hurt she'd be by it.

He'd turned sharply to her and shot two stunning words, "Diplomatic immunity."

It was the last thing she'd expected, and so she didn't quite understand at first, "What?"

He cast an accusational look at Carson before turning back to Elizabeth, "You cannot use me to develop a biological weapon against my will." Carson blanched and his jaw dropped.

Rodney ploughed onward, aggressively jabbing a finger at the Canadian Flag patch on his sleeve, "This is an international mission. The Atlantis project in run by no single nation," he held up a finger to punctuate his point, "We represent earth. I represent Canada. That little fact essentially makes me a scientific ambassador; on loan from my Country, Canada, for the express purpose only of our nation's co-operation with the Atlantis project. You and Caldwell can't force me work on an unrelated project or answer questions unrelated to this expedition." He'd grouped them with Caldwell! "Besides, the Trust is an American problem." He raised his chin arrogantly and folded his arms, daring a rebuttal.

Johns chair clattered to the floor as he stood forcefully, "The Trust is an Earth problem and it'll be YOUR problem if you go back to earth and they get their hands on you!"

The McKay arrogance drained away and was replaced by something far worse. The most hopeless expression she'd ever seen. He looked at Elizabeth as though she'd driven a dagger into him, "You're sending me back to Earth?"

She had to swallow the lump growing in her throat before she could answer, "No. You are still a valued member of this expedition. You are our top scientist and we need you here. And you're right. We can't force you to cooperate with Col. Caldwell's investigation or with Mr. Woolsey. I won't try to force you to talk to us either. But I do hope that you'll choose to. We're here to help you, Rodney. I want you to think about that." Could he so easily believe she'd do that?

Rodney checked his watch and shifted his feet, some of his arrogance recovered, "In that case, I have a meeting with the Environmentalists in ten minutes. Should I cancel, or can I, uh…"

"You can go," Elizabeth hadn't even finished saying it before he'd shot out the door.

Sheppard cast a doubtful look at Heightmeyer, "So…you think he'll just come talk to us if we leave him alone."

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The meeting ended shortly after that. Radek walked swiftly from the room, no doubt he had a full work schedule for the day. Sheppard jogged to catch up with him, "Hey Doc! Wait up."

Zelenka turned and folded his arms. The look on his face said, 'I was right, you were wrong. Admit it now.'

So Sheppard took the wisest course of action and held up his hands in surrender. "I just wanted to say I think you were right." Zelenka waited for him to elaborate, "We're McKay's friends. We need to show him he can trust us."

"Good." Radek responded with succinct approval.

"Which is why I want you on my special ops team," Johns expression was completely serious.

And that concerned Radek, "Special ops?"

"That's right," Sheppard smiled conspiratorially, "We're going to get McKay to talk to us."

"No! Absolutely not!" Zelenka started walking again, "Dr Weir and Dr Heightmeyer say we are not to pressure him."

"Not about the whole experiment thing. But we could get him to talk to us about little stuff. Then, when he sees that talking to us about little stuff isn't so bad maybe then he'll want to trust us about some of the big stuff." Sheppard now had a friendly arm draped over Radek's shoulders. "So, how about it?"

Radek narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "I suppose that makes sense. But how do you propose I get him talking about the little things? We always discuss projects and theories. He is rarely forthcoming about much else."

"Well, I wouldn't need a special ops team if it were easy. I know you'll think of something. I have to go brief the rest of the team. I'll catch up with you later." Sheppard winked conspiratorially and jogged away.

All the way to his first meeting, in the chemistry lab, Radek wondered what he should try and get Rodney to talk to him about. He was about to put it out of his mind so he could work when one of the female chemists walked by, humming a pretty melody. Where had he heard that? Then he remembered it. He had heard it last night during the incident with the sound-system and McKay's piano. He had completely forgotten about it. Perhaps that was a good place to start with McKay.

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The plotting Colonels next stop was the infirmary, "Hey, Carson, can we talk?"

"Of course lad," Carson set down what he was doing and led John into his office before closing the door.

"It's about Rodney."

"Aye. I figured as much." Carson motioned to one of the comfortable office chairs.

John settled into the chair, then stood again, feeling too wired. "Caldwell didn't send us all that information just for our benefit. Did he?"

"Nay, he didn't. Colonel Caldwell wants me to be able to confirm or deny whether Rodney has any special abilities by the time he gets here. I'm not sure if I'd want to tell him if I knew. But the possibility is concerning. It would increase the likelihood of complications. I never would have…"

John rolled his eyes, "You can't possibly think… I mean we would know… wouldn't we?"

"Not necessarily. He's a smart man. I've no doubt he could hide anything he wanted to." Carson actually looked serious and it was beginning to make John think. "If ye think back on it, have ye ever noticed anything unusual on missions? You've seen him in situations no-one else here has…"

Now John was actually thinking about it. He couldn't believe he was considering this. "Well… now that you mention it he does have pretty good instincts. He can get out of the way of danger pretty quick sometimes. Sometimes he seems to know who the bad-guys are before we do, but that's to be expected when he's paranoid all the time. Right?" This conversation was getting a little too weird.

"Most probably," Carson agreed, but then reluctantly added, "But it would be best to be absolutely certain. I confess I'm not quite sure how to approach him about it. After this morning, I'm not so sure he'll let me near him. He looked at me like he thought I'd…" He trailed off.

John knew that Carson took his oaths very seriously. That a friend would actually be afraid of his intentions as a physician, cut deeply. "So you need him to trust you. I'm putting together a team to help with that. How would you like to be part of a top secret trust building mission?"

The mischievous glint in John's eyes caused Carson to back away cautiously, "What have ye got in mind now?"

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It wasn't until early evening that Radek was able to join Rodney in his lab. It was the first time Rodney had sat still long enough to be found. Radek sat down next to him and plopped a couple of wrapped sandwiches and a box of orange juice down in front of his friend. He hadn't been seen at meals all day. "Prosím. Máš hlad?" (Here you are. Are you hungry?).

Rodney looked up from his work and glanced around him in confusion, "Are you talking to me!"

"Vasrozumí!" (You understand) Radek jabbed a finger at Rodney and nodded agreement with himself.

Rodney rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance, "Radek! English please? Assuming of course that you want me to be able to respond to anything you say!"

"They say that if one is good at music they will be good at math. They say same about music and languages. You are a mathematician, and a programmer, and you have ear for music. That means you should be good at languages! And you are! You know Ancient and you learned Wraith! So how is it you claim to be so terrible at human languages?" The Czech pushed his glasses up and folded his arms, awaiting an answer.

"What are you on about? I have more important things to do than fill my head with useless information. Leave languages to the anthropologists!" Rodney unwrapped one of the sandwiches and shoved half of it into his mouth as he spoke.

"You say same thing in Russia, until they caught you speaking Russian in your sleep! One of the scientists you worked with is stationed on the Daedalus. He told me about it!" A straw was poked into the juice box and put into McKay's other hand. "It is apple. No citrus. Drink before you choke."

McKay swallowed and huffed irritably, "I was probably just repeating something I'd heard during the day without understanding what it meant. Where are you going with this anyway? You want me to learn Czech? I don't have time. And I don't care what the voodoo head-shrinkers say," he referred scathingly to Psychologists. "Being musically inclined does not automatically translate to being linguistically inclined."

"I think it does. Take me for example. I play violin, and I learned English very quickly."

"Well, good for you!" Rodney moved to turn back to his work.

But Radek wasn't about to be dismissed so easily, "You are Canadian, yet you claim not to speak French. They teach this in your schools, do they not?"

Rodney seemed to summon his patience before turning an annoyed look on Radek, "I didn't go to school in Canada. I went to school in the States. We only summered in Canada. Don't you have any work to do?"

"Then you must have learned Spanish, yes?" Radek insisted.

"NO! I was exempt because I was Canadian. What is with the twenty questions? If you don't have any work to do then that explains why I have SO MUCH OF IT! Here, you can have the pleasure of reviewing the gravitational field study for the planet with all those moons." Rodney thrust a disk unceremoniously towards Radek and turned back to his own monitor with an air of finality.

They worked in silence for about five minutes before Radek spoke again, "Where did you summer in Canada?"

"RADEK!"

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