A/N – a long chapter, for the weekend. I've family in town, stealing my time. Apologies in advance for the delay they'll cause.
NEVER STOP MOVING
By TIPPER
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CHAPTER TWELVE: STOKING THE FIRE
Teyla did what she could for John, cleaning his shoulder and arm and wrapping them loosely with sterile bandages from the Med Kit. After gathering his arm inside a sling to keep it immobile, she checked his head, grimacing at the ugly gash on his hairline where he had hit the corner of the DHD. The bleeding had stopped, but there was bruising. She was in the middle of cleaning that as well when he stirred.
A low groan whispered out, then ended in a grunt when he winced, obviously feeling the pain. Teyla stopped her ministrations, holding the Q-tip back and watching as his eyelashes fluttered, gamely trying to open. She let out a soft breath of relief.
"Colonel," she called softly. "Colonel, can you hear me?"
He grunted softly again, then, with obvious effort, pulled his eyelids back so that he was blinking at the ceiling of the puddle jumper. His eyes rolled once, as his eyelids fought to close once more, but they settled and the bleary gaze shifted from the ceiling to Teyla. She checked his pupils—and found them even. The bruising on his forehead did not seem to reach his eyes, but she was no doctor. He frowned and blinked some more in her direction—she was fairly sure it was because of the pain he was in.
"Colonel Sheppard," she called again, "John. Can you hear me? And see me?"
His eyes pinched in response, the frown not letting up. "Both," he answered, his voice soft. He swallowed harshly. "Teyla," his eyes closed for a longer period this time before reopening, "You okay?"
She gave a tiny smile—she had expected nothing less. It was one of the reasons she would follow him to the ends of the universe. "I am fine," she replied, the smile evident in her voice. "A little bruised, but all right. You gave us a scare."
His lips quirked in his typically sardonic fashion. "Sorry for that." He blinked slowly, then grimaced again, eyes shutting tightly as he rode out the pain he was in. When he opened them again, he was obviously fighting to stay awake. "Ronon? Rodney?"
"Ronon has gone to study our landing site, in the event we may need to defend it. Rodney...," she licked her lips, "Rodney is sleeping." She smiled weakly at the lie, feeling her nerves fighting the smoothness of the motion, the muscles twitching around her lips. She was wishing more than knowing it to be true, but she did not want John to worry about Rodney now—not when he was so badly hurt himself and could do so little about it.
John frowned, his eyes squinting more as he obviously sensed the uncertainty in her. Before he could question it though, he shifted...and gasped loudly, the breath turning into a painful groan. His right hand reach up to touch his bound left arm.
"No, don't," Teyla said, catching his hand. "You are badly hurt. You must leave it be, for now."
He had opened his eyes again, and she could see water in them as she placed his right hand back down, holding it a little longer than necessary. It was cold—which worried her. John's eyes rolled back in his head when she leaned away from him, and he blinked slowly, turning his head towards her once more.
"What...my arm?" He swallowed again, and his eyes closed once more.
"You hurt your left arm when the ship was hit. I wrapped and bound it to your chest."
He gamely tried to blink his eyes open again, but it was clearly a losing battle. "Where's...?" The question died on his lips, his shallow breaths deepening as he drifted back to sleep. Teyla bit her bottom lip, wishing she could do more for him.
"Rest, John," she said softly. "You need rest. I will explain later."
He didn't need the command, already asleep again. A combination of pain and warmth—she could still feel the heat from his arm...she just hoped it wouldn't get infected.
She finished bandaging the cut on John's head, and stood up slowly, intending to move over to Rodney. She winced a little as her back spasmed, her own muscles feeling the strain of the day—she could still taste the metallic flavor of adrenalin on her tongue, reminding her of just how incredibly scared she had been. All of her muscles ached, as if she had been running for hours. She licked her dry lips, sighed and shook her head.
Keep moving, Teyla. Never stop moving.
Leaning down to pick up the Med-Kit, she hugged it to herself as she stepped across some debris on the floor and climbed over the smoldering pilot's chair to the left side of the Jumper. She studied Rodney's broad, curved back as she set the Kit down, garnering comfort from the regular way his back expanded and retreated beneath the blanket Ronon had tucked around him. She recalled how soft Ronon's touch had been when he took care of Rodney, as if handling a child. Teyla had been mesmerized for a moment, watching Ronon ministrations, wondering a little at how gentle the often fierce Satedan could be. If she ever questioned the strength of Ronon's love for the three of them, she just needed to remember how he could be when any one of them was hurt.
With a soft sigh, she knelt by Rodney's head and brushed back the blanket, revealing the scientist's pallid face. She swallowed, trying to remember that the bruising on his face and the dark blood caked at the corner of his lips had been there before, from when they had found him.
Rodney had no other overt injuries, other than the bruises on his face and the wound...wounds? there was too much blood to tell...on the back of his head, so there was little she could do for him. She checked to make sure the wound had stopped bleeding, then gently prodded his shoulder, calling his name. He showed no signs of wakefulness—as limp as a rag doll. Grimacing, she leaned over and pulled up an eyelid…then the other. The pupils responded—that was a good thing. Her jaw clenched, regretting how little she could actually do—especially if she could not wake him.
She also tried not to think about how much trouble they would be in without him.
Getting up with a heavy sigh, she looked down at the two men, then stepped once more over the chair and into the rear of the Jumper. With only a slight tremble of nervousness, she reached up and pulled down the left hand control panel, then turned and pulled down the one on the right. All the crystals were currently dark—which made sense, as the Jumper was powered down. Looking around, she spotted Rodney's off-world backpack, which John had obviously decided to bring along, just in case. Grateful for the colonel's foresight, she opened it and pulled out the scientist's data tablet, turning it on then grabbing for the connection wires to attach it to the Jumper's control panels.
She had just gotten them powered up when Ronon returned. He stopped just outside the open rear hatch, dust floating all around him like tiny diamonds in the sunlight, and just looked at her standing before the open control panel. She smiled weakly, shifting Rodney's tablet in the crook of her left arm and gripping the tablet's stylus in her right hand. She opened her mouth to explain what she hoped to do, but he just shook his head.
"Do whatever you think best," he said, pushing past her to the front, obviously intent on checking on the two men. Teyla just watched him go.
"I believe Colonel Sheppard is only sleeping," she said as Ronon crouched down to check on the Colonel. "He woke once, but he was in a great deal of pain. If he is more lucid next time he wakes, I shall give him some morphine." Ronon did not reply, just glanced at the bandages, then leaned in close, as if to check the man's breathing—his ear going to Sheppard's chest. Whatever he heard must have satisfied the Satedan, because he backed away and turned his head to look at Rodney over his shoulder.
Teyla held the tablet closer to her chest as she spoke again. "Doctor McKay, however, appears to be deeply unconscious. He has not responded to me at all."
The Satedan just grunted, climbing over the chair to check on Rodney, and he repeated the ear to the chest thing. He hovered a little longer than he had with John, then drew back, a dark expression on his face. The frown deepened the more he stared at the scientist. Teyla was about to say something about concussions when Ronon sucked in a sharp breath.
Suddenly, he erupted back to his feet, kicking viciously at the ruined pilot's chair, sending it back towards Teyla. She jumped, then frowned, feeling her own anger growing inside her.
This was no time for that!
"Ronon!"
"I know," he snapped brusquely, pressing his hands to the side of his head beneath his dreads, clearly trying to get his rage back under control. He sucked in another breath...then let it out slowly. He lowered his hands, looked over at her, and nodded.
Moving to where he had kicked the chair, he reached down and lifted it up, hefting the heavy, leather seat like it was weightless, and carried it past her to the very back, next to the open hatch. Dumping it in the left hand corner so that it was out of the way, he then continued forward to the top of the ramp, to stand guard, his gaze watching the wall of boulders hiding them. He had only been standing there for a moment before his blaster was out, the gun twirling around his restless hands. Only the tension in his jaw gave away the continuing depth of his frustration.
Teyla sighed, and placed the data tablet in her arms down on the Jumper's bench. Crossing over to his side, she raised a hand to shade her eyes as she peered outside, also studying the semicircle of rocks. The bright, orange sunlight felt harsh, reflecting off the glittering desert landscape, and intensifying her own still painful headache. Two Tylenol from the Med Kit swirled in her system—they would have to do for now.
"What did you see over the rocks?" she asked, her eyes tracing the dragline that the Jumper had made in the soft, red earth when it hit the ground. It had not been soft landing.
"Not much," Ronon said, drawing up slightly. He found comfort in reporting—something Teyla knew well. "Land's pretty flat between here and the Gate, but there are some things blocking the view—buttes and stuff. I couldn't see the Kaveer, but you know they're coming."
She nodded, and took a step out down the ramp, just to feel the sun on her shoulders for a moment. They warmed beneath the cloudless sky, the sun soothing on her face as she tilted it upwards, closing her eyes to feel the heat caress her cheeks and eyelids.
"They want this ship," Ronon commented behind her. "Think that's why they didn't fire again. We'd be dead otherwise."
"They want us as well," Teyla noted darkly, opening her eyes again to look out at the desert.
Ronon stepped forward so that he was by her side, and he pointed in a northerly direction, as if she could see through the rock wall hiding them. "There are a handful of sliver canyons cracking the ground between us and the Gate, which should help slow down 'em down some—you can see 'em pretty clear from atop the highest of the rocks." He pointed vaguely up to where a large, thumb shaped monolith stood about fifty feet away, towering well over their heads. "Should help."
"Well, that is something," Teyla said, sighing a little. "How long do you think it take them to reach us?"
"On foot? Fifteen miles is a long way to cover fully armed. So, few hours, give or take. But, if they have transportation—which, seeing as they definitely had some vehicles in that compound—"
"But the colonel blew those up," Teyla interjected.
"Yeah, but stands to reason that they might've more hidden down inside wherever they came from." Ronon scowled a little. "And, if they do, we might have less 'n an hour. Depends how easily they can get over the canyons."
"I see. How safe are we here then?" Teyla asked.
"Not much. You and me, we could maybe hold off a dozen men or so from those rocks, but only if they come from the general direction of the Gate. If they send more men, or come from another direction, we won't last long."
"Then we need to move," Teyla said.
"Yeah." He frowned. "I saw some mesas not far from here that we could hike to. There might be some caves or something. There's also a sliver canyon about a mile off that we might be able to hide in. We leave now, we should make it to the canyon pretty quick, even carrying the two of them." He nodded at John and Rodney.
Teyla's eyebrows lifted, looking up at him. "What, on foot?"
"Yeah," he said, offering her a puzzled look. "How else? You just said we need to move."
"Yes," Teyla agreed. "But I meant, we need to move the Jumper."
"The Jumper?" he repeated, his eyebrows lifted. "How? You thinking of carrying it? Because you're doing that alone."
"No." She gave him a dark look, not missing the sarcasm. "If we wake Colonel Sheppard, we can fly it further away."
Ronon frowned. "Not sure that's such a good idea. Doesn't this thing show up on their sensors? They'll just keep coming, because they'll know where to find us if we stay with it."
"We cannot leave the Jumper," Teyla said, shaking her head. "It may be our only way home."
"Maybe, maybe not," Ronon replied, frowning. "All I know is, this thing," he reached back and tapped the ship, "sticks out like a fly in milk. We've a better chance if we ditch it. I can keep us hid."
"I understand, Ronon, but—" She paused suddenly, then turned her attention to the shadowed interior. She thought she had heard a soft moan, and she lifted her eyebrows at Ronon. John was coming around again. "That is likely Colonel Sheppard, waking up. If it is, he should make the decision. At the very least, if he can, he might be able to fly us further away from the Kaveer."
Ronon grimaced, but did not disagree, and she felt him follow her as she headed back inside.
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First thing he tried to do was move his left arm, and it was only after the attempt that he remembered why that was a really bad idea.
Hissing in pain, John woke to a burning sensation all up and down the arm, from shoulder to elbow, and, the closer he got to waking, the hotter it got. His attempt to move it, even a little, had turned a smoldering ache to flaming, seeming to send searing agony up and down his entire body (even though, rationally, he could tell it was concentrated on his arm). He must have yelled out, because sound filled his head, intensifying the dull throb behind his left temple to a pounding maelstrom—a second agony that was only getting worse the more he tried to get away from it. His feet pumped, seeking purchase, and his eyes struggled to open, to free himself from the bonds of the pain he could not contain.
Then someone was holding onto him, talking rapidly, her words attempting to soothe. But all he could feel was the burning and the pounding in his head.
Then, a soft pinprick on his right arm, and a sort of stuttering coolness spread through his frame, taking away some of the pain…but not all.
It was enough to allow him to focus on words, though. And who spoke them.
"…morphine for the pain. I am sorry, John. I wish I could give you more, but we need you to stay awake. Can you hear me? John? Can you open your eyes? You managed it once before, remember?"
Teyla.
The pain lessened, and he shook, feeling the still boiling heat in his left arm but feeling cold everywhere else. Trembling, and hating that sensation almost as much as the pain, he forced his reluctant eyes to open, blinking a lot when they filled with water. What the hell had happened?
"John?" Teyla was still speaking, somewhere above him. "John, look at me. You recall what I told you before? You are badly hurt—you were too close to the energy beam when it hit. Thankfully, it did not actually hit you, but it got close enough for the heat to burn through your clothes. I believe the damage is at least second degree and…and…? John? Are you even hearing me?"
Somewhere in the middle of that, he had finally managed to turn squinted eyes on the blurry face leaning over him. It was definitely Teyla—even blurry, she was beautiful.
"Hey Teyla," he croaked out. His throat felt like sandpaper as well—was there any water?
"Here," Ronon leaned in then, holding a canteen. Carefully, he dribbled some water into John's mouth, and the colonel smiled softly in gratitude.
"Thank you," he said softly, still unable to focus on either of them clearly.
"John," that was Teyla again, "John, I hate to do this to you, but I need you to sit up. Do you think you can sit up?"
He blinked a little more, and saw dried blood on her face. He frowned. When had that happened?
"You okay?"
She seemed to grimace slightly, as if she had heard that question before. "I am fine, John. Can you sit up?"
He grimaced, and, with a solid weight pushing at his back—which he recognized as Ronon—and Teyla pulling on his right arm, he somehow managed to sit up. He stomach rebelled briefly, and his equilibrium swirled a bit, but he was sitting. His vision started to clear, and he got a good look at the Jumper. For a moment, he just stared.
What the hell…?
And then his memory came back like a slap to the face…the Kaveer, the shield on the Gate, the weapon. He thought he had avoided it, thought they had gotten away. How could he have been so careless!
The damage looked impossible to quantify—the beam had obviously punched a hole through the side of the Jumper just behind where he'd been sitting. How the hell was he even alive? Half of the front windshield was missing where the beam had exited and a portion of the controls on the pilot's console were gone—about where his left hand usually sat.
Trembling more now, his eyes were drawn downwards, looking at the arm slung tight to his chest—the one that felt like it was ten sizes to big. His fingers did not look damaged but…
Ow. Owowowowowow. He'd tried to move them, to curl them. The pain was intense, and he found himself slumping forward, his vision graying at the edges. Teyla's hand pressed against his chest, tipping him back up and into the warm lump behind him. He could feel himself trembling again, and hated his body for appearing so treacherously weak when his team needed him.
"You must stay awake, John," Teyla said, leaning into his line of vision. He lifted his gaze to hers, blinking away some of the water in his eyes, and breathed in slowly as she continued. "Your arm is badly damaged, yes, but it is still there." Her hand on his chest lifted to his unhurt right shoulder, squeezing it, "I have cleaned and bandaged it, but there is little else I can do for you right now. John…we need to know, do you think you feel well enough to fly the Jumper?"
He looked at her, then grimaced, looking over her shoulder at the dead console. "The controls are gone," he said, coughing a little because of his dry throat.
"Not completely. Rodney was able to fly it to here. We just need to fly it a little further, to get more distance between us and the Kaveer. Can you—"
"Rodney?" John straightened, suddenly aware that he had not heard a single word from the scientist. "Where is he?" The beam had cut through behind his chair, but it hadn't been that far from where McKay had been sitting. The already hurt McKay.
Vaguely, he recalled being told that Rodney was sleeping...but if he was this hurt and they were trying to wake him to fly the Jumper, then McKay had to be worse off. Teyla's clenched jaw as she regarded him added credence to that.
"Where is he?" he asked, not hiding the command in his voice.
Teyla shifted to the side, allowing John to see what he hadn't before while she was in the way. Curled in on himself under the pilot's console was Rodney—just brown hair sticking out from a gray blanket. He looked dead.
John felt his eyes water again, but not from pain. "Is...is he...?"
"He is alive," Teyla assured him. "John…John! Look at me!"
His eyes had glazed over at the sight of Rodney, unable to think about anything but whether he had lost his friend. At her shout, he swallowed at looked back at her, taking in the determined look on her face.
"John," she whispered, "I know the Jumper looks terrible, but we have to move. If you cannot get the Jumper to power up and fly, then we need to escape on foot. Our chances of surviving if we must do the latter are not good, especially not with you and Rodney hurt as you are. And so, I ask you again, will you try to fly the Jumper?"
He took in a deep breath, and, slowly, nodded. He understood. It was a desert outside—Teyla and Ronon on their own could probably escape detection, but not with him and Rodney—not with them both hurt. Not unless...they left him and Rodney behind…
"We are not leaving you behind," Teyla said firmly, grasping his right shoulder more tightly. John blinked—had he said that out loud?
He grimaced, knowing she meant it. And knowing Ronon would echo it. He let out a sigh.
"Help me up," he said.
John felt arms wrap suddenly around his waist from behind. Before he knew what was happening, Ronon had him lifted to his feet, his world tipping all around him in crazy, red, gold and black relief. He breathed heavily, trying to fight down the nausea. Then, almost abruptly, he was carried over and stood up before the pilot's controls, looking out through a hole in the windshield bigger than his head. He did not want to know what had happened to the pilot's chair that should be here—but guessed it was probably why he wasn't more barbecued.
"Please, John," Teyla was standing next to him, Ronon still holding him up by his waist. "You must try."
John nodded again, then looked down at the arms around his waist.
"Let go," he ordered, swallowing down another bout of nausea. "I can stand." The arms immediately released, and John staggered a little as his shaky legs took his full weight. He looked down to help find his footing, and saw Rodney by his feet, preventing him from moving too far forward.
Swallowing down the bile in his throat, he leaned over and rested his right hand atop the panel.
The Jumper flickered…then came to life. John's eyebrows lifted in surprise, honestly amazed. No plane could sustain this much damage and have worked—but then, this wasn't a plane.
Gritting his teeth, he mentally pictured the Jumper rising up out of the sand, and the floor tilted slightly. Outside, the world shifted—they were moving.
But…he couldn't direct it. His hand slid down, grasping the right hand control, but there was no left hand control. More to the point, he would not have been able to use if even if the control had been there—his left arm, for all intents and purposes, was as broken as the control.
"We just need distance," Teyla told him. "We don't need to head in any particular direction. Thus, straight ahead," she gestured to the landscape before them, "is good enough."
"Actually, look there," Ronon was pointing towards something in the distance—it looked like greenery. "Could be an oasis, or the top of a canyon with some water. Can you get us there? It's far enough away—gotta be at least twenty miles."
"I can get us there," John said, more for their sake than because it was true. He nudged the ship forward—and instantly felt the drag on the left side. The right engine pod was overcompensating for what had to be damage to the left. The ship started to veer and stutter. In case the Jumper crapped out, he kept them close to the ground—that and the fear that, any higher might make them a target again. He was making an assumption that the energy weapon could not fire this low to the ground—or perhaps it was hope. He vaguely recalled thinking that the beam should not have been able to bend as much as it had when it was targeting them. Every time he had attempted to put sideways distance between them and the weapon, it had cut them off.
His jaw began to ache as he gritted his teeth even more tightly, trying to mentally balance the two engine pods in his mind and keep them moving straight. It felt like he was trying to drive a truck through molasses.
Teyla and Ronon said nothing about their slow progress, until Teyla looked behind her.
"Ronon," she said, "you should watch the back. The rear hatch is still open—it'll enable you to watch for the Kaveer."
"Sheppard, you gonna be okay?" Ronon asked, and John nodded. He felt stronger now, even if he was forced to keep all his attention on the ship. If they needed any kind of maneuverability in this thing, they were screwed.
But they were moving.
His world soon narrowed to Teyla by his side, Rodney's warmth at his feet, the pain in his left shoulder and upper arm, and the feeling of a very sick Jumper at his fingertips. He could feel himself trembling, but, except for his left arm, his body felt strangely far away.
They were moving faster now, and he desperately wanted to look over his shoulder, to see what they were leaving behind—but was afraid to lose his concentration. He did not hear any weapon's discharges from Ronon's weapon, but that did not mean they weren't in danger.
The green they saw in the distance had transformed into the tops of trees, and, as he climbed a little higher, he could see the fir-like trees were dotting a downhill slope falling away from them, covered thickly with sage and juniper-like bushes. Lifting the ship up over the trees and bushes, he saw that the red earth gave away to sun-bleached rocks and, abruptly, a very wide, very deep verdant canyon. A wide, muddy looking river flowed down in the depths, surrounded by trees and plants on all sides. It could have been the Navajo National Monument back home—just without the cliff dwellings.
He could feel the morphine starting to fade, and as his mental state cleared, so did the pain return. His left shoulder was soon in agony, threatening to overwhelm him, and his headache had really begun to beat angrily against his skull.
He was grinding his teeth now. He no longer fought to stay awake, but to ignore the burning pain that wanted to drown out everything else.
Floating the Jumper down, he managed to turn it just enough to allow it to land gently on a small island in the middle of the shallow river, bushes and dry looking trees on all sides. The sand here was whiter, softer.
It'd make a good vacation spot.
Letting out a deep breath, he called up the HUD to try to determine the extent of the damage, not wanting to have it distract him before.
"Power levels are low," he remarked tiredly, knowing Teyla was still hovering by his side. "And the left engine pod is most definitely damaged. It did not retract when we landed—which probably made whatever damage the beam caused even worse." He let out another breath and stepped back, automatically shifting to the side to avoid the chair that wasn't there. His right arm crossed under his left, cradling it lightly. Teyla shifted with him, then bent down to check once more on Rodney.
Ronon came tramping in from the rear, holstering his blaster.
"That put at least thirty-five, maybe forty more miles between us and them," the Satedan said. "Gives us at least a couple of hours to head out on foot and find someplace better to hide." He nodded at John. John sighed.
"Leave the Jumper?" Teyla asked, looking up from Rodney's side.
"We don't have a choice. We stay here," Ronon shrugged, "we die." He sounded almost casual about it.
"He's right, Teyla," John said, moving back to Rodney's chair and gingerly sitting down. His head was throbbing again now too, and he balefully regarded the Med Kit—some Tylenol would be nice.
Appearing to read his mind (or perhaps he had spoken out loud again), Teyla moved over to the kit and pulled out the bottle.
"I do not see how leaving the Jumper is beneficial," she said, uncapping it and spooling a couple of pills into her hand. "If we can just effect some repairs—"
John shook his head, then frowned when it increased the throbbing. Note to self, John, don't do that again. "I can probably figure out what's wrong," he said, "but not how to fix it. Rodney's the only one who can—"
"I might be able to fix it," Teyla said, handing him the pills. He stared at her a moment, not hiding his surprise, then down at the pills. Popping them, he took the canteen Ronon handed him and swallowed them down.
"We'll need more water," he said, handing the canteen back to Ronon and closing his eyes. His good hand rubbed at his forehead, carefully avoiding the bruise he knew was forming on it.
"Colonel," Teyla's voice had deepened, the only sign that his response had annoyed her, and she moved into the back, pointing up at the two still open panels, "the controls in the rear of the Jumper appear to be intact, although there are clearly a number of burnt out crystals. Still, it is possible that the issues surrounded the lack of maneuverability can be—"
"Teyla..." Opening his eyes with reluctance, Sheppard leaned forward on the chair, resting his right arm on his leg and looking back at her. "I appreciate what you're saying, I do." He squinted a little at the bright sunlight that backlit his teammate. "But this Jumper is a beacon to the Kaveer. They have it on their sensors. Who knows what other sorts of weapons or technology they may have—and so long as we stay with the Jumper, they will know exactly where to find us. Ronon's right—continuing on foot may be our best chance."
"Surely we can not leave the Jumper here for the Kaveer to find," Teyla argued, her brow furrowing. "Who knows what they might do to it. Especially if they can get it working—we know at least one of their members has the Ancestor's gene. That kind of technology in the hands of people like this…"
"This thing isn't repairable, Teyla. Look at it," John turned his head to look at the front before returning his gaze to hers. "Whole left hand side of the controls in front are missing. I could barely manage any speed with it like that, much less hope to avoid anyone shooting at us."
"This ship can be controlled in other ways," Teyla answered, gesturing to the panels. "Over the last two months, I have been working a little with Doctor Zelenka. He has been providing lessons, so to speak, on the Jumper, and he also gave me some reading materials. I am fairly certain I can at least—"
"Yeah, but, Teyla...even if you could fix it enough to provide some control, you can't do anything about the shield over the Gate or that energy weapon. The Jumper just isn't useful to us—right now, it's only a danger. Ronon's right." He sighed, leaning back. "We have to leave it."
"But..."
"And the longer we delay," he continued, "the easier it will be for the Kaveer to find us, especially if we're carrying Rodney. We need to leave sooner rather than later."
Teyla frowned then shook her head, her gaze meeting his squarely. "John, this is not just about keeping the Jumper out of the Kaveer's hands. Look at the environment out there," she waved a hand to the hot, red colored planet outside the windshield. "We have no gear or protection for a prolonged stay in the desert—certainly, we do not have enough food—and it will take weeks before the Daedalus will be close enough to rescue us. It was on its way to Earth when we last had contact a few days ago—they'll be there now, or almost there. And even if the three of us could survive, which, in your state, I highly doubt, I know Rodney will not. Moreover, the Kaveer have the advantage of knowing this land better than we do—it would be miraculous if we are able to escape detection for that long. If we have any hope at all of surviving, we need this Jumper."
"Or," John said, his voice tight, "You could leave us behind."
Her eyes widened, then narrowed fiercely. Walking back up to face him, she crossed her arms as she looked down at him sitting in Rodney's chair. "Absolutely not."
"Teyla, listen to me..." He took a breath, recalling his thoughts from earlier, the argument he'd planned for this moment. "If you and Ronon leave, get yourselves to a safe distance—they won't kill us. I'm pretty sure of that. They might even be able to help us. If they want our knowledge, they'll need to keep us alive. They—"
"Torture people," Ronon growled from the back, appearing with a couple of canteens over his arm. "Probably you, since they know McKay's got the information they want. McKay showed off enough to make that obvious to them. We're not letting that happen."
"Ronon is right, John," Teyla said, nodding to the Satedan. "These are cruel people—what I saw in the faces of their victims was enough to convince me of that. I will not let them anywhere near either of you without a fight."
"What she said," Ronon affirmed. "We're not leaving you behind."
He frowned—didn't they get it? The point was to give them a chance! "Just think about it for a second. If you escape now, you can return to rescue us," John said. "Just go and…"
"Not happening," Ronon crossed his arms. "And you know it."
John frowned even more deeply, "I could order you."
"And we could ignore you," he replied.
"And we would," Teyla affirmed.
John took in a deep breath, and winced as it shifted his hurt arm. When he looked up again, their expressions had not changed. Damn.
"Fine. But that brings us back to the original point," he focused on Teyla, "if all four of us are going to be hiding—then we need to get away from this Jumper, now."
If anything, Teyla's expression grew even more determined.
"And I reiterate what I said before—if all four of us go out there," she looked past Ronon towards the back hatch, "then you and Rodney will not survive. You will die in that desert."
John lowered his head to his chest, trying not to sigh. "Teyla...either we all go, or you leave Rodney and me behind. Those are the only real options here."
"What if I told you that I believe this Jumper could still get us home, even damaged."
John frowned—he hadn't seen that coming. He lifted his head, and found himself meeting a pair of brown eyes that desperately wanted him to listen to her. "What?"
"Doctor McKay once before wrote a program that could disable a Gate Shield. If he is still able to do that, he will need the Jumper to relay it. And if he can disable the shield...then he may also be able to disable that weapon." Teyla sounded pleased with herself.
John gave a small head shake, still leery of doing that too much. "I'm pretty sure that's a special program he uploaded into the Ancient mainframe on Atlantis. Unless he—"
"Doctor Zelenka told me that the Jumpers are designed to interact with Ancient technology," Teyla said. "It is why they always show up on Ancient sensors, but no other technology can detect them when they are cloaked. Rodney should be able to upload whatever he needs into their database using the Jumper's interface—he just has to program it to do so. In fact," her eyebrows arched, "Rodney might even be able to take us off their sensors as well."
John just stared at her, then closed his eyes and drew in a slow breath. "Teyla, I'm not disputing it's a good idea..." He opened his eyes again and gave a quick head tilt, "A really good idea. Just one problem," his eyebrows lifted, "McKay's unconscious."
Ronon suddenly snorted, drawing both Teyla and John's gaze to him before she could reply. The Satedan was wearing a crooked smile.
John frowned. "What? What's so funny?"
"Nothing," Ronon shrugged. "Just, thinking maybe Teyla's idea could work. Bettin' McKay could do it."
John's frown turned to bewilderment. "What? How? McKay's—"
"...Standing right behind you," Ronon said, pointing between them to the front of the ship.
John and Teyla whipped their heads around, to see Rodney leaning heavily against the broken console, glaring at them with pain-filled blue eyes. The blanket was still around his shoulders, slipping as he tried to straighten his half bent over stance.
"Nice of you to finally notice," Rodney sneered, his voice as soft as sandpaper. "Took your time. Seriously, how did the two of you not see me getting up?"
———————————————————————————————
TBC...
Still stepping softly. I have to whisper, because John, Rodney and Teyla all have these really horrible headaches. Ronon probably has one two, from the pressure shifts, but, well, I like to think he was protected by all that hair.