A/N: Three more chapters left after this one. More chocolate coins for all since Sparrow has hidden the rum.
Ch. 9
"Forest fire!" Rodney squeaked.
"Prairie fire, McKay," John's voice responded. "And just from the few seconds I was watching I can tell it's burning fast. We must have damaged their shields when we fired back, which is why they're so anxious for our shields to get up and running, and I suggest we placate them on this one. That fire looks bad."
McKay wiped his mouth clean of the last vestiges of vomit from his mouth using a Kleenex. "Carlyle's on it and I sent Henderson and Cox to help."
"Those names mean absolutely nothing to me, McKay."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "I got guys on it, all right? Hermiod went with them..."
A flash of silver bright light stabbed into Rodney's eyes, slicing all the way to his brain. He winced, snarling in frustration, and blinking rapidly trying to get the spark of migraine lights out of his eyes. When he turned his head, he saw several of the marines pointing weapons at a willowy man in a ragged brown coat and fogged goggles. Even with the goggles on, Rodney could tell this guy was more pissed than alarmed.
"Why is there a smaller ship sky-borne? It one of yours?"
Rodney's jaw went slack. It was scary how well Sheppard could peg the bad guy, or maybe it was more simply being able to predict fellow fighters. The pirate shifted his goggled gaze to each occupant of the med bay. "Well?"
Rodney twitched his head, snapping himself from his astonishment. "Uh... He, uh... We got a little nervous when you wouldn't tell us why you wanted the shields fixed. We thought – maybe – that you might have had someone chasing you. We sent a ship up to patrol, just to play it safe... Oh, and to check out any damage on the outer hull," Rodney added for good measure. "I mean is that all right? He making you nervous or something? Because we can call him back..."
"Do it," the man said.
SGA
"McKay to Sheppard."
"Yo," John said, zipping over the rock field.
"Jig is up, time to come home."
"Will do," John said. He swung around to skim over the Daedalus. Something flashed, something metal but not the same kind of metal as the Daedalus. John swung around again and circled the object silver-blue and glaringly bright against the Daedalus' gray skin. It was round, domed, and John smirked at its resemblance to a steel zit.
John zoomed in as close as he felt it safe. The object wasn't all that plastered to the uneven surface. In fact, it's hold was precarious, which meant that whatever this thing was, it didn't belong, was probably recently added, and was meant to be removed at some point in time.
It prodded John's suspicion enough to make that time now. He swung around wide, then dropped low, coming straight at the object. He targeted the space between the object and the Daedalus, and fired. There was a small explosion beneath the object that sent it flying and flipping from the skin, over the side to the ground raising a cloud of dirt, seeds, and dead grass.
The radio crackled, and Rodney's shrill voice followed after. "What the hell was that!"
"Close shave – literally. I'll explain when I get back."
John shot out over the end of the Daedalus, arched around, and slowed to ease into the bay. Everything after that was left up to the autopilot, guiding the F-302 into it's original spot. As soon as it settled, John flipped switches, powering the engines down and opening the cockpit. Ronon was back, waiting at the bottom of the ladder with the wheel-chair. John rolled his eyes, and rolled the phantom joint pains out of his shoulders.
"Beckett needs to realize how uncool this is," he said, pulling off the helmet. He moved slow as he emerged from the F-302 onto the ladder, then down it, walking on tip-toe since it hurt less. He dropped into the chair rather than go gently, and despite his earlier statement, ended up sighing in relief.
"What did you see?" Ronon said, wheeling the chair out of the bay. Lights flashed and the bay doors hummed as they closed.
"Prairie fire, and the bad guys on the other side of that rock field just outside. Oh, plus some kind of a metal tick hitching a ride on the Daedalus."
"Tick?"
"Yeah. Something like it. I don't know what it was but I sure as hell knew it didn't belong."
"I'm guessing that's the reason behind the ship shuddering like it did."
John grinned. "I used to be told the best way to get rid of a tick is to burn it off. Same difference."
Ronon moved fast, taking long strides that got them back to the infirmary in no time.
"Hey Rodney..." John began as they entered. He clapped his mouth shut to see the remaining marines surrounding a man in a ragged coat. The man was looking around in bewilderment, as though uncertain as to where the hell he was. John arched an eyebrow in mild surprise. " Rodney?"
Rodney looked up from the laptop he was still working with, scowling. "What the hell was that explosion?"
John didn't take his eyes from the unwelcome visitor. "I saw something on the Daedalus that didn't belong. Shot it off."
The pirate's head snapped around to land his hidden gaze on John. The eyes might have been obscured, but his slack jaw and paling face told John enough. He narrowed his eyes at the man. "I'm guessing you didn't want me to do that," John said.
Rodney looked between the man and John. "What? What are you talking about? What thing?"
"Some big, round metal thing. It's outside. Kind of reminds be of a giant tracking device, but I'm thinking' it's a little more than that."
Rodney's eyes went round. "You think it's what they've been using to jump in and out of here?"
"Someone grab that guy's LSD," John said.
Lt. Goering – a tall, heavy built marine with a bandaged wrist, stepped forward yanking the pirate's X-ray LSD from one of the large pockets of his coat. Goering looked at it, then handed it over to John. John held the LSD with the now blank screen facing McKay. "That answer your question?"
Rodney set the PC aside to slide off the bed. He took the LSD from John with an expression as though having seen the thing for the first time. "Yes. Very. I need to see that round thing myself."
John shook his head. "Bad idea. It looked too big to drag inside and now that it isn't working that makes going outside unwise. Those pirates are going to want to talk face to face and I don't want anyone out in the open where they can be grabbed. Let's just take that," John gestured at the LSD, "as a sign that we no longer have to worry about anyone beaming in."
"What about him?" Goering asked, prodding the pirate with the business end of a zat.
"Secure him," John said. "We may need him later."
John could feel the man glaring at him. "We aren't going to like this," the pirate said. "There will be retaliations."
Rodney was the one to glare back. "Not if they want the shields up and running. If you want us to play nice then your people better play nice."
"Take him to the back," John said. "Stick him in a closet. I don't want him listening in to anything we have to say."
Goering nodded, escorting the man personally with two marines watching his six. John wheeled over to the bed, locked the chair, and hauled himself up to shuffle over and ease himself onto the edge. Beckett was by his side, helping him to ease back against the upraised head. John wasn't officially sitting out for the count, he just needed to rest his body in something more comfortable than a wheel chair, just for a few minutes.
"So now what?" Rodney asked, sitting at the foot of his own bed. "You blew off their little skeleton key into our domain, and goggle-boy's right about them not being happy about it. If they're not pissed then they're scared. They might drag hostages over to shoot them in front of us just to make a statement."
John shook his head. "No, they won't. They need us, even more now that they can't come and go as they please. They know they still have us where they want us. All blowing that metal tick off did was make communications difficult, and give us a scratch of an advantage. If they want to talk, then they're going to have to come to us. Plus we have one of them, and if my theory about their numbers is right..." John's thoughts moved in fast, precise order; almost too fast in the sudden exhilaration of what they'd now gained since blowing that metal zit away. "Okay, forget what I said about a scratch advantage. This could be a little bigger."
"How do you mean, lad?" Carson asked. He picked up John's wrist to check his pulse.
"I mean they're going to want their man back. We could do a hostage exchange or something."
"Except there's no one person we need," Rodney challenged. "In terms of repairs, we have everyone we need. Getting one person back isn't going to do squat except ensure that one person isn't made an example should it all come down to that."
John glowered in Rodney's direction. "It was an example, McKay. I'm still working out the details." He sighed, and massaged the dull throb out of his forehead. "There's a plan here, we're just not at the point of seeing it, yet."
"So what do we do until then?" Rodney said. It was a legit question but it still felt like Rodney was challenging him, shooting down in advance whatever plan John had in mind. John knew he was reaching the ragged edge when he started looking on the dark side of life. He was tired, hurting, hungry but with no real appetite. At the extreme moment there was nothing to be done, except his mind refused to accept that and kept trying to urge John into doing something.
"We wait," he finally said, with finality, sealing the decision to both Rodney and himself. "We wait for the pirates to come to us, which means we need someone on the bridge keeping watch." John squinted. "Does the transporter work yet?"
"No," Rodney said. "Power drain had targeted that as well."
John nodded. "Then we're going to have to talk to them outside. We'll need to prepare for that. Have people positioned where they'll be able to get a clean shot if things get dirty. They may demand that a few of their guys be put on board to keep watch – out of desperation to keep control." John blinked and had to fight to get his eyelids back open. "I'm thinking... it should probably take them a good half hour to get through those rocks, maybe less." He sighed, and rubbed his eyes hoping a little massage would coax them to stay open. They were in the middle of a damn hostage/siege situation. One would think sleep a prospect that seemed miles and miles away. It was smacking John left and right, hitting harder each time his eyelids closed.
Beckett placed his hand on John's shoulder. "It's all right to catch a quick nap, lad. If we're going to wait, we might as well make good use of it. You'll be able to think more clearly once you've taken a break."
John looked at Carson beneath his eyelids. "Carson, there's a damn prairie fire and pirates holding our people. I can't afford a nap."
"Like hell you can't," Carson said, and was already pulling a blanket off of the neighboring bed and draping it over John's legs up to his stomach. "Thirty minutes, at most, while we wait. They get here sooner then I'll wake you. In the meantime, the shield gets fixed, leaving one less problem to worry about. I'll handle the rest, get someone up to the bridge to keep watch. You just get yourself sorted out for some clearer thinking."
John nodded. He didn't have any energy left to even argue, especially over such a harshly poignant point. The next time his eyelids closed, he let them remain closed, settling back against the bed. It was odd, almost scary, how easy it was to drift off even with so much going on. No mind trying to wander, no muscles remaining tense. It was as though his brain had given up on continually recognizing that they were wallowing through one hell of a crisis.
The same thing had happened during the march. Except he'd never dropped, just slept on his feet.
SGA
To go out and look at alien technology or not to go out. Rodney was, once again, even with the Daedalus down and half their people gone, completely and utterly useless. Carlyle had called in a few minutes after Sheppard had passed out, giving the update that the shields were ready to go and that all that was missing was the power. It wasn't as if the shields had needed a massive overhaul to begin with, just the replacement of a few wires that had shorted out. So Rodney was left with nothing more to do than monitor Sheppard's rest. It was a rest that looked pretty deep, smoothing out the pain and stress lines on Sheppard's face, causing his chest to rise and fall slow and steady. Rodney didn't like it. There had to be something seriously wrong with someone to sleep that deep in the middle of all hell breaking loose. Not mentally wrong – well, perhaps there was a mental component, Rodney wouldn't hold it past Sheppard – more like physical. Rodney's own brain was becoming jealous, and prodding Rodney with lethargy.
Except head wounds equaled no nighty-night for Rodney. The moment his own head hit a pillow, Beckett would materialize as if out of nowhere to wake him. So that left McKay wallowing in a mighty big temptation. That metal whats-it John said he'd blown off the Daedalus' outer hull could answer a lot of questions, including just how the hell they were going to get their people back.
Before the prairie fire reached them all.
Rodney had the uncanny impression of being stuck in a video game, or really cliché movie.
Rodney worried the bottom of his lip with his front teeth. In and out, real quick, just for a scan. Rodney glanced over his shoulder to see Carson several beds away beside that marine with the flu. The infirmary was relatively empty except for Carson and the marines way, way, way at the back guarding the closet where their unwanted guest was. The scientists Rodney had sent scattering to make minor repairs, and with the threat of hostiles popping in and out taken care of, the marines were sent to the bridge to keep an eye out for the pirates.
In and out, lickity-split, with no one the wiser.
Yeah, right. Carson would know. The man was all seeing. Still, no harm, no foul, and a quick look-see could very well be worth the berating that would follow. Rodney set his tablet to the side to begin slowly, inchingly, sliding off the edge of the bed.
"Where're you going?"
Rodney's knees buckled in panic, and he would have fallen if Ronon hadn't stepped forward to grab him by the arm. He kept hold even after Rodney had found his balance. Rodney stared daggers up at the taller man. He hadn't ever seen the man leave, or come back, but that was Ronon for you.
"The bathroom. Why, do I need an escort?"
The Satedan gave him a smirk that was supposed to be amused but still sent shivers down Rodney's spine.
"You were going to look at that machine Sheppard said he blew off the ship."
Rodney blinked fast to cover his astonishment, then reared his head back in a scrounged look of righteous indignation. "Was not?" He tried not to wince. Attending various poker nights had made Rodney come to realize that his biggest give-away when bluffing was to speak in the fewest words possible. Short, sweet, to the point – his complete antithesis.
"Were too," Ronon said before Rodney had a chance to lengthen his sentence.
"Was not! Do I look crazy enough to go out there when the bad guys are supposed to be on their way?"
"Do you really want me to answer that?"
Rodney deflated, and averted his gaze to scowl at the floor. "No."
Ronon finally released his arm and stepped back. Rodney fumed for a moment, cursing his own predictability, when sudden inspiration struck like a flick to the back of his head, making him perk. He snapped his finger and pointed at Ronon. "You could come with me."
Ronon arched an eyebrow. "I think you just answered your own question, McKay."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Look, when those pirates do finally drop by, someone is going to have to go out and talk to them since I doubt they'll want to come on board and we definitely don't want them on board. We get some marines to provide cover in case they try anything. I get to look at the device Sheppard shot off, and Sheppard doesn't have to increase the damage to his feet by avoiding the wheelchair to maintain an air of macho leadership. I mean come on, Ronon, look at him."
Ronon did.
"Even with the nap I doubt he can take much more of this."
Rodney's heart pounded. He was suggesting a lot just for a quick look at that device. More than that, he suddenly realized that his ploy actually had a point. The more he thought about it, the more his heart plummeted another two feet. Rodney wasn't even going to try and argue that he had excellent diplomatic skills, and Ronon had never been big on talk, just big on shooting. Carson, well, in the face of a medical emergency he was all business. In the face of danger, his brain continually attempted to shut down.
That left Sheppard, who Rodney highly doubted was up for even so much as a friendly chit-chat with non-hostiles. Sheppard was injured, worn out, which the pirates could take as weakness. The bald guy had already deemed Sheppard a trouble-maker, which meant they would probably shoot him before even initiating conversation, getting the trouble-maker out of their way for easier access to the Daedalus. Rodney, however, although injured himself, was still useful. They wouldn't shoot him because they needed him.
Crappy diplomatic skills or not, Rodney was better suited to talking with the pirates more than anyone else.
Rodney had just out-thought himself into a corner. He slumped, muttering a curse under his breath. "You know what?" he said, straightening. "Forget I said anything."
Ronon grunted. "Actually, you're right. It would be better if you talked to these pirate people. They'd probably just shoot Sheppard."
Rodney didn't say anything. If Ronon was thinking along the same lines (unnerving as that was) then there was probably some truth to it. Sheppard would be pissed, but at least he'd be alive.
"Besides," Ronon said, looking back at Rodney. "The most they're going to is demand having some of their men on board to keep an eye on things. But if what Sheppard said is true, and they have a problem with their numbers, they might not want to risk it. If anything, they'll just ask you to hand over their man back, maybe make threats against the hostages. But with that fire coming, they aren't going to do anything that'll slow down the repairs."
"But the shields are ready to go."
Ronon shrugged. "They don't know that. And they don't know you. Just say you're still working on 'em and are almost done. Without that machine on the hull, we're the ones with the most control."
Rodney nodded sagely, then grimaced uncomfortably. "Yeah, but they may still make an example out of someone, like they did before, just to reestablish control."
Ronon was silent for a moment, then, "Yeah, maybe."
Rodney groaned helplessly. "That's really not helping things. Look, I told their buddy that Sheppard went out to check damage on the hull. We'll say shooting that machine off was an accident because we thought it's what was messing with some of the systems. Maybe they'll buy it and refrain from shooting anyone." Rodney gave Ronon what he hoped was a very hard, penetrating look. "Listen, Conan, as much as you might not like it, we're going to have to really, really, really suck up to these guys if we don't want any more bloodshed. They're not going to be happy we shot off their toy, and they're going to be less happy when I lie to them about repairs taking their sweet time."
"I know," Ronon replied, and sounded quite considerate rather than insulted. Rodney was taken back into speechlessness for a second.
"Well... Good. Glad you do." He then sighed, and sagged back against the edge of the bed. Sherbet stirred, rose, stretched, then trotted over to Rodney to rub up against his hip. Rodney patted him absently. "We have no clue what these guys will do."
"We have an idea," Ronon said. "That's enough. We know they'll want their man back, and we know they're going to ask for something or do something that will put them back in control."
"So, in other words, we're just going to have to wait and see what that something is, and plan from there."
Ronon nodded. "Yep."
Rodney narrowed his eyes to slits. "That sucks."
"No one said it would be easy."
"It usually never is."
--------------------------
Rodney didn't try to convince Carson of anything. He and Ronon slipped off when the Scottish doctor left to go fetch some voodoo implement of medical torture. Rodney then removed his radio, just for the time being to avoid verbal repercussions.
Rodney and Ronon made a stop at the bridge to get two marines to join them, and two more to hang back and keep them covered with a sniper's rifle. After that he made a quick stop at his room to grab his trusty tablet PC. They then headed to one of the many emergency exits throughout the Daedalus rather than risking opening the massive bay doors that made it too easy for someone stealthy enough to slip on board.
Along the way, Rodney spotted a small, flat disk in the middle of the corridor several feet ahead. Everyone stopped, stilling with bated breath, waiting for the thing to do... something. Ronon pointed at the thing using is 9-mil.
"Sheppard pulled something similar from one of the pirate guys' pocket."
Rodney whipped out his tablet. The disk was giving off some pretty strong power readings, but they were stable rather than charging toward the grand finale of either exploding or stunning them. Rodney suspected stunning, because something alien had knocked them all unconscious and ripe for the picking. Feeling uncharacteristically reckless – which he usually was when curiosity got the best of him – he crept forward as though approaching a sleeping skunk he'd much preferred remain asleep. When he was close enough, he knelt beside the device and looked it over.
Appearance-wise, it was like a blue-silver land-mine combined with a smoke detector, with a crystal dome center. There were two small lights, one blinking blue and the other dark. The color coding made no sense, but a blinking light was a blinking light no matter the galaxy – the thing had completed it's task and was now waiting to be reset or something. Either way, it wasn't going to be stunning anyone at the immediate moment. Rodney reached out and gingerly lifted the thing from the floor.
"What is that?" Ronon asked. Rodney jumped and snapped his head around. The Satedan was crouched, craning his neck to peer over Rodney's shoulder. Rodney clenched his teeth.
"Geez! Is it your goal in life to scare us all to death or an unavoidable personality trait? I don't know what it is, but I have an idea." He stuffed the device into his own pocket. "It's also harmless, so we can keep going."
They continued on to the nearest emergency exit, by-passing the airlocks that continued to uphold their anal purpose of sealing off one door before opening the other. Rodney knew it was for a good reason – between pollen and potential diseases, alien atmosphere's were always a pain – it still didn't mean he had to like it. The door opened and a ladder extended to let them down into the knee-high golden grass of the plains. The air smelled sweet of dry grass, as well as pungent as though someone somewhere were having a cook-out. It made Rodney nervous.
Rodney straightened, tugging to straighten his jacket, and sniffed. He could already feel the mucus accumulating as pollen found its way up his nostrils. "All right, people," he began. "Spread out or... Whatever. I'm going to search for that device Sheppard shot off. Make some kind of noise if the Dread Pirate Roberts and his merry band are spotted."
Rodney ignored the heavy-lidded looks the marines gave him. He turned and checked his tablet, following the weak energy signature that he assumed was the device. Along the way, he pulled the small disk from his pocket, looking from it to the tablet. The screen had divided, the above continuing reading the device, the other reading the power from the disk. And it really was a lot of power. The disk still had the potential to do what it was meant to do, but most likely at a shorter range.
"I think we're here," Ronon said.
Rodney snatched his gaze up from the screen. He stumbled to a halt, eyes widening, at the sight of sunlight flashing off a large-domed surface about the size of a puddle-jumper.
"Oh wow," he breathed. He lurched forward and kicked through the high grass around the thing. The energy signatures were much stronger up close, but not all that strong when compared to the signatures from the disk. Sheppard had knocked this thing quite nicely out of commission. Along with the weak power was a weak signal, fluctuating like a sputtering animal that was going to die sometime in the near future. The fluctuations were similar to what Rodney had seen while pretending to repair the shields, making two and two a hell of a lot easier to put together. He felt like an idiot.
"Of course," he hissed.
"What?" Ronon asked.
"There are signals I'm reading off this thing that I've noticed earlier but didn't pay attention too because they were too short and quick to really worry about. This thing," Rodney kicked at the dome, his boot-toe clunking softly against it, "is how they've been able to beam in and out, along with spy on us, and communicate. Think of it as an advanced version of cutting a hole in the hull, allowing them complete access to us and the Daedalus. Sheppard was right to shoot it off. Or at least I hope he was, if having it shot off doesn't piss off the bad guys."
"Whatever takes the advantage away from the bad guys," Ronon said, "is always a good thing."
"Not if one of our people gets shot for it." Rodney looked back to the disk still clutched in his hand. He turned, bracing his back against the smooth, curved, cool surface of the device as he studied the disk more thoroughly. The larger device was useless, but the smaller one still had power enough to have merit – if Rodney could just figure out how. Maybe if they could find enough of these, they could lay them out in locations where the pirates would have to go, let the disks stun them when they returned with the hostages in tow, while those remaining on the Daedalus stay out of range of the stun blast to separate pirates from hostages.
If they could find enough, and if Rodney could figure out how to turn them on. Turning it over, Rodney noticed some kind of toggle switch on the side. He flipped it using his thumb, heard a small whine like a camera charging, noticed a power surge on his PDA, and panicked.
"Oh crap!" he switched the small toggle, and the device wound down.
At least he knew now how to turn it on.
"McKay," Ronon said in that warning growl of his. "Stop messing with that before you blow us up."
"It's not going to blow us up," Rodney replied dismissively. "Knock us out for a good couple of hours, but not blow us up. They must have turned these on right before they beamed them in. Ronon, give me a boost."
"Boost?"
"Yeah. I want to get on top of this dome, try something out."
Ronon shrugged and stepped closer. He cupped his hands and crouched, forming a step. Rodney placed his heel into it, and gasped when Ronon's 'boost' practically catapulted Rodney up along the Dome's surface. What Rodney had in mind was no doubt an incredibly bad idea, but a worthy bad idea if what he learned from the experiment could help them in some way. He started sliding back down the dome, so switched the disk on and shoved it up toward the apex where it stayed. He let himself slide to the ground, and dropped onto his stomach.
"Ronon, down!" he called. Ronon dropped. Rodney looked up to see a pencil thin blue-beam of light about five and a half feet tall, give or take, that lasted merely seconds before expanding into a wavering pulse that expanded a good ten to twelve feet before disintegrating.
"McKay!" Ronon snarled.
"Will you relax!" Rodney snapped back. He pushed himself to his feet, dusting his hands off onto his trousers so he could rub his hands together without worrying about grit slicing up his skin. The sudden motion from lying to standing made him waver for a bit, but didn't diminish his excitement.
"Yes, yes, yes! Ronon, another boost, we need that thing."
Ronon pushed himself more slowly, scowling yet complying. He cupped his hands, and pretty much tossed Rodney toward the top of the dome enough for him to grab the disk and slide back down. The toggle had automatically switched off, and the power readings, though lower, were still pretty good.
"I think we have ourselves a handy little surprise," Rodney said.
"You don't think the pirate guys saw that?" Ronon asked.
Rodney shook his head, grinning proudly over his discovery. "Not with us being on the other side of the Daedalus, and not with the beam being at a level for the Daedalus to block from view."
At that, Ronon seemed to perk out of his initial annoyance. "So how exactly do you plan on using that thing?"
"Well, if we could get more, I know lot of ways we can use it. Until then... I'm still working on that. But at least it's something. That beam was pretty high off the surface – I mean it has to be if you want someone thoroughly stunned. Hitting the legs wouldn't do much except make us temporarily crippled, not unconscious." They'd learned that the hard way thanks to the wraith and their stunners. Hits to the limb weren't a knock-out, but they still sucked.
Ronon nodded, then his hand shot to his ear. "One of the men keeps asking what that light was. What do I tell him?"
"What I told you – to relax. Tell him it was just an experiment."
Rodney became too engrossed with the disk to hear how Ronon responded over the com. This disk was an advantage, a much needed advantage. All that was left was forming a plan B if A couldn't pan out due to lack of sufficient disk numbers to use. There was the one they'd pulled from their current prisoner, plus this one, probably one or two not recovered by the pirates scattered throughout...
"They're coming," Ronon suddenly announced.
Rodney stuffed the disk back into his pocket. "Damn it! They just had to be punctual, didn't they!"
They went at a trot to the other side of the Daedalus, arriving in time to see baldy and five other men wading through the grass. Two of them were dragging something on a wheeled sledge. The something was barrel-shaped, and metallic green rather than blue, like a steel beer-keg spray-painted for St. Patrick's day. The look on baldy's face screamed extreme displeasure, and he had his rifle unslung and at the ready. The two marines that had been keeping watch moved to flank both Rodney and Ronon. Ronon moved a step forward and to the side, closer to Rodney, hovering like a body-guard. It actually helped to stem back the rising tide of terror trying to choke Rodney.
When there was about five feet of space between the two groups, Baldy and his cronies stopped. Baldy was silent as he looked from each Lantean face. Whatever he saw, it deepened his scowl from unhappy to seething.
"Where's the little beast?" he demanded.
Ronon's brow formed a confused crease. "Huh?"
"Sheppard," Rodney explained. "He's talking about Sheppard. And he's indisposed at the moment," he said a little louder.
"Do I look like I care?" Baldy stated in smoothly controlled irritation. "Bring him out here, now, along with our man you made stranded. Or do you need some incentive?" Baldy's pudgy hand started a deliberate journey toward the com at his ear. Rodney's heart slammed and his own hands shot up.
"No, wait! Hold on! Blowing that dome thing off was an accident. Sheppard went out to survey any damage to the ship's outer hall. He saw that thing, thought it was damage, so blew it off. He wasn't trying to cause any trouble."
Baldy's lip curled in a sneer. "You really aren't getting me. I – don't – care. It was still him, and he's starting to bother me. So just quiet your voice trap and bring him and my man out. After that, you start powering up the shields while we start bringing your people over. Seeing as how that little beast thought it would be nice to take a flight, I'm confident he told you about what's heading our way?"
Rodney nodded. "Yeah, a big ass fire. So why do you want Sheppard if you're just going to be bringing everyone back?"
Badly smirked, and that sent cold shooting down McKay's back.
"I didn't say I'd be bringing them back all at once. More like a group at a time. The little beast's to be last. Now bring him out so I can have him out of the way."
"Then you don't want him," Ronon said suddenly. "You want me. I'm the one who told him to blow that thing off the ship. I'm the one who ordered him to go up in the first place. You've seen him, the condition he's in. Do you honestly think he's that much trouble? Sheppard's not even awake. All the action eventually led to him passing out. I'm the one you need to worry about."
Baldy just stared at Ronon. It was apparent, at least to Rodney who felt wound tight enough to tell the difference between male and female flys had any been present, that Baldy wasn't buying what Ronon was selling. Rodney hadn't really thought about it until now, but he was starting to get the impression that Colonel Sheppard and baldy had had a bit of a roe some time when Rodney wasn't present to see it. Baldy wasn't stupid. He knew Sheppard wasn't exactly the picture of health. So the only way he was going to assume that a scrawny man with a limp and a broken arm to be trouble was if he'd proved himself to be trouble from the start. This wasn't just about getting John out of the way, this was personal.
A tight knot was expanding in Rodney's throat. Suddenly he was no longer second guessing his decision of being the one to talk with baldy. People didn't take kindly to underweight invalids getting the better of them. Baldy probably would have shot Sheppard on sight, and waved it off in a blasé but self-satisfied manner as Sheppard being 'made an example of'.
"Funny," badly said. "I've yet to see you actually cause me grief. The one you call Sheppard, on the other hand..."
Ronon stepped closer. "Was following my orders. He didn't even want to fly in the smaller ship. He was tired, hurting, but I made him because he's the only one left who can fly. You want someone to pay for giving you trouble, then I'm the one you want."
Baldy still wasn't buying it. And yet neither did he push for someone to bring Sheppard out. Baldy rubbed at his jaw, sliding his hand up his fat cheek to slide his hand back and forth over his reflective scalp. Extra reflective due to a nice thick sheen of sweat that was covering it. Rodney's heart started pounding in a surge of hope.
Baldy was nervous, anxious, and more than likely in a rush. Why else bring the giant recharge battery this early rather than try and reestablish dominance? This was good, very good, advantageous good. Baldy had one hell of a weakness and it was creeping in closer even as they spoke. The only set back was that the weakness went double for McKay and the rest. They had people on the ship that would be the first to succumb to the fire.
Come on, Rodney thought. Come on, we don't have time for this. He didn't whole-heartedly agree with the Satedan giving himself up. He never approved of anything that he deemed as the opposite of self-preservation and survival. He attributed it with his own self-preservation tendency, and wanting others to share the tendency in order to feel less guilty. But that was just self-depreciation talking. Several steps above that was a loathing toward seeing others hurt, or in a position where they could get hurt.
For that same reason, he couldn't refute what Ronon was doing. If baldy didn't take the former runner, then he was going to take Sheppard. Ronon was in a position to be an advantage in and of himself, Sheppard was not. This was a good thing, it really was. Rodney didn't want Ronon to be taken, yet neither did he want Sheppard to be taken.
Baldy's leg began twitching as he looked back and forth from over his shoulder to Ronon. "Fine," he said at last. Rodney released a long held breath. Baldy pointed at Rodney, then the ship. "You, bring our man. When we come back, and I see you've been up to what I find I don't like, then I'm taking the one you call Sheppard. And if you think he's crippled now, wait until I break both his legs."
Rodney gaped in horror. He had no doubt, what so ever, that baldy was dead serious in his threat.
"Go now!" Baldy snapped. Rodney flinched, turned, and high-tailed it back to the Daedalus, sucking in lungfuls of acrid tasting air.
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TBC...