Happy Easter/Passover/School Vacation Week/Sunday everyone! Because, I can never make anything simple, these are not light chapters. I should have 16 up tomorrow. Think of them as the heavy cloud before the rain, aka, the return to mayhem.

NEVER STOP MOVING
By TIPPER

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN: REBUILDING THE FIRE

John waited patiently where he sat in the co-pilot's chair, trying not to relax too much, though an unwanted drowsiness was quickly subduing him. Despite the situation, despite the danger, he could feel exhaustion born of fighting pain settling over him like a heavy blanket.

Rodney, meanwhile, hunched in his usual chair and shadowed completely by the sun pouring in through the hole over his head, appeared focused on his laptop. Sheppard squinted against the uneven light, watching as screen after screen of information popped up on the monitor, McKay searching and absorbing and assessing each one like a channel surfer. The scientist had yet to say anything to him since he'd ordered Sheppard to sit and ordered Teyla outside to check the left drive pod. The only change had been a definite tensing of the shoulders early on—John hadn't wanted to ask what had caused that.

Footsteps banging on metal had him glancing to the back, to see Ronon had returned. The Satedan was carrying full canteens and nodded at the colonel as he set them down. He then started pulling the packs out of the storage bins, to start filling them.

Sheppard thought about helping, but moving now seemed like it might be difficult.

McKay was typing now, both hands dancing over the keys, except for when the right hand would lift off and McKay would flex it, as if it ached...

"Okay," McKay said suddenly, breaking the colonel from his reverie. "Here's what I've got. As you know, their sensors picked up the Jumper—"

"Which you need to fix," John commented, almost yawning but somehow keeping it down. "Take us off their sensor grid."

"Actually, no. That would be a bad idea."

John frowned, sitting up a little and wincing at the pull on his arm and shoulder. "Bad idea? McKay, do you not get that they know where we are. We're—"

"Yes, I know. It's like having a big red target painted on the top of the Jumper's roof, I get that. Especially when you've got a weapon that can pinpoint you anywhere you are when you're in range—still don't know how you avoided it for so long, by the way…" He paused, looking over his shoulder at Sheppard. "Seriously, how did you avoid it? We should have been hit every time it fired. It had a direct line on us—as certain as if we'd been connected to it with a string. Should have been easier than shooting ducks in a barrel."

John just blinked at him, "What?"

McKay scrunched his eyes closed, sighed, then opened them again. "Forget it. Just…you're a really good pilot, obviously. I forget that sometimes." He turned back to his laptop.

John frowned. McKay was complimenting him? But they'd gotten hit! They'd almost died!

"McKay, I'm not that good. We got hit, remember?"

"Let's put it this way, Colonel," McKay said, still not turning around. "I'm really glad it was you piloting. Anyone else, we'd have been hit sooner, and we'd be dead."

Sheppard had absolutely no answer for that, startled a little by the absolute certainty in McKay's voice. Luckily, McKay didn't seem to expect an answer, already speaking again.

"The reason I'm so sure of that," he drew in a breath, "is because the beam is not a beam."

That caused John to blink a few times, and he frowned. "Uh, McKay...we saw—"

"It looks like a beam, but it's not. Did you not find it odd that it wasn't a continuous line, if it was a laser? It looked more like shots fired from Ronon's weapon, remember?"

"I...okay, fine," John didn't understand why this mattered. "So, it fired blasts, not a beam. What does that—"

"It's not a blaster either." McKay finally turned all the way around in the chair. "It's a shotgun."

John met his gaze evenly, still not catching on. He wished he wasn't so tired and his head didn't ache so much—it felt like McKay was talking it riddles. He didn't normally take this long to understand his friend. "A shotgun."

"Hundreds of bullets, except, not bullets. What Ancient weapon just looks like a streak of yellow when flying through the sky, instead of the ugly octopus it actually is?"

And, suddenly, John got it. His chest tightened, an odd counterpoint to the weariness weighing down the rest of him. "They're...tiny drones? Hundreds of them?"

"About the size of bullets, yeah. Nanites were obviously not the only things the Ancients were good at making small." He frowned, and rubbed a little at his head. "That's why you couldn't get anywhere, when you tried to head us to the side—and I remember you trying to send us sideways a number of times." He pressed a hand to his stomach as he spoke, showing which part of his anatomy probably remembered best. "We're just very, very lucky that they don't have the power of real drones. They petered out every time they missed us, exploding in the air where we should have been every time they fired, but for your skill as a pilot getting us out of the way."

John just stared, trying to wrap his mind around that. Tiny drones...

"Does..." His eye twitched. "Does that mean they have a chair?"

"No. I think, if they did, they wouldn't have sent single shots. They were aiming them manually—probably using the Jumper's call sign on their sensors as the target for their computers. If they'd had a chair, they probably could have filled the sky with blasts from the weapon; it would have been like trying to fly through a fireworks display." He looked back at his computer over his shoulder. "It also means that they can target us wherever we may be, including here. If we're in range. Drones don't need to be fired in a straight line."

John turned to look out the windscreen, as if expecting to see a beam of yellow light streaking towards them at that very minute.

Rodney sighed lightly, and turned around in the chair so that he was facing his laptop again, his back to John. He rested his head against his left hand, kneading his forehead a little. "What saved us is that they clearly want the Jumper as intact as possible. It's why they haven't fired again. They could have easily hit us when we were falling." It sounded like Rodney was beginning to remember what had happened, and John returned his gaze to him.

"This isn't good," he commented quietly.

"No."

John eyes searched the floor, and then he looked up again at Rodney's bowed back.

"You really need to get us off their sensors. Now."

"Well, yes, but see..." Rodney looked over his shoulder at him again. "There's a problem with doing that."

John frowned, "Problem?"

"Well, what I was trying to say before you distracted me—"

John snorted. "I distracted you? You're the one who—"

"—Is that it's a good thing we're on their sensors. It means that their tech recognized the Jumper. Better yet, when it did that, the Jumper automatically jacked itself into their mainframe. According to this," he waved at his laptop, "both times we were hit, the Jumper broadcasted for help and the Ancient systems here responded. There's evidence in the ship's logs that an automatic pilot function tried to turn on—but you overrode it," he glanced at Sheppard again, "unconsciously I assume. I think I remember doing the same, sort of." He grimaced, clearly not totally sure of that.

John frowned more, thinking briefly about some of the sluggishness he'd felt from the ship after they'd been hit that first time, when the Jumper's shield had deflected the attack. Had it been fighting his manual control? Trying to land itself so it could be repaired? It never even occurred to him that that could have been the problem. He'd thought it was just related to their loss of power.

"So we're jacked into their mainframe," John said, trying to pull his wandering thoughts back to McKay's words. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Rodney gave the hint of a smile, "next time we dial the Gate from the Jumper, the Jumper's controls will override the DHD controls on the ground—as it always does—which includes the Gate Shield. They won't be able to put the shield up, not unless they've written code to specifically reject that of a Jumper's overriding control…which I doubt."

John frowned, looking down at the DHD. There was a smear of blood on the corner—his, he presumed. "Mmm."

"Mmm? The best you can offer to that is a Mmm? This is good news!" McKay winced after he raised his voice, and his right hand lifted and rubbed on his temple. "Unlike the weapon, I don't have to write an override program for their Gate Shield now. Good news," he repeated petulantly, lowering the hand.

"Not disagreeing," John said, frowning still. He sat up a little in the seat again, aware he had slumped down once more. He was much too lethargic—he had to shake it off. "Just…you need to be sure about that. I mean, why didn't that happen before?"

"Because, when we dialed before, their Ancient systems were still turned off, so there was no clear signal telling the Ancient systems what had formed the wormhole. Now that the system is back on, it should recognize the Jumper."

"Should recognize the Jumper."

"Yes."

"What if it doesn't?"

"It will."

"But what if it doesn't?" John repeated, stressing the words.

"It will!" Rodney repeated, stressing his words as well. He winced again, and the hand went back to his forehead, the base of his palm kneading the skin above his left eyebrow.

"But what if you're wrong?"

"I am not wrong!" Rodney snapped, face reddening in anger. "Ow…" The hand on his head moved to pinch his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He let out a deep breath. "Look," he said again, speaking more softly, as if his head hurt too much to shout, "the only reason there is a shield on that Gate is because there must have been an Ancient facility here, maybe even another city, like Atlantis. If there was a facility, then they brought Jumpers here. The fact that our Jumper appears on the sensors and an automatic pilot tried to take over proves that. And since the Jumpers are designed to override the DHD on the ground, that means overriding the Gate Shield because the shield is generated through the DHD on the ground. Unless these people have seen a Jumper before, then they should have no reason to…"

"Stop," John held up a hand, "I get all that. I got all that when you first said it. All I'm saying is…make sure you have a backup plan." When McKay opened his mouth to protest again, John lowered his head and spoke again. "McKay, look. I believe you. I trust that what you're saying is correct. What I don't trust is that these systems will work as you expect them to. Too many things we've come across, for one reason or another, don't. How many times have you said to me that something doesn't 'make sense'? You need to have another plan ready in case something goes wrong."

When he received no answer to that, he looked up. McKay was looking down at the floor of the Jumper where the pilot's chair used to be, his eyes shifting back and forth as he thought through what John had just said. Finally, the blue eyes closed.

"Then I can't do it," he said finally.

"Can't do what?"

"In the time you've given me…I can't do everything you need me to do."

"Try."

"It's not a matter of trying, Colonel," McKay snarled, opening his eyes again to focus on the floor at his feet. "It's a physical impossibility. Writing code like you want is tedious work that takes days, not hours. It took me that long to write the one for Atlantis just to take down its Gate Shield via the Jumper. You've given me two hours to do that and take care of the weapon and fix the Jumper and…even with help," he glanced towards the back, where Teyla had been and where Ronon was now, packing bags, "my head is not really functioning at top capacity right now." The blue eyes returned to meet John's hazel ones, and the pain in them was clear. "The only backup plan I can give you is this—if the shield goes up, then we land right in front of the DHD, I jump out, pull the necessary crystals from the Gate to take down the shield without electrocuting myself, which is next to impossible, and then we go—hopefully with me still alive."

John's jaw tensed, then loosened. "You can have more than two hours."

McKay was honestly surprised by that. "How? You said they'd be here within—"

"Take us off their sensors now—you can put us back on them later. Then I'll fly us further out and we'll—"

"Oh," McKay gave a headshake. "No, no, we can't."

"Why not?"

"These people may not know about the gene, Colonel, but they know their equipment. It was obvious to me that they've been using these cobbled together systems for years, and they'll know how they work. I hack in and pull us off their sensor grid, there's no way I can do that without them noticing. And they'll be able to figure out pretty easily how I did it. They'll be a clear entry point. Once they've found that, they'll be able to block the Jumper from using it again to access their systems. No…" He looked down at his laptop, "right now, they don't know I have access. We need to keep that access undetected for as long as possible."

John sighed, closing his eyes again. "But if we don't get off their grid, besides being a potential target this whole time for their weapon, they can find us, McKay. No matter where we go…"

"I know."

"And if what you're saying about the weapon is true, I'm betting they won't be too happy with our flying further out to get more time. They might fire on us anyway."

"I know that too."

"And if we can't move and they can find us, then the time we have is very, very limited. And you just said you didn't have the time to get us out."

Rodney sighed heavily, and started rubbing his right hand with his left again. "What do you want me to say? I already said we could do it in that time…just…we're going to have to take a lot of risks. Like taking the risk that the Jumper's dialing will override the shield. That's all I'm saying." Rodney's jaw set, and he was holding his right hand in a tight fist now, probably in an attempt to stop it shaking. "Frankly, I don't see we have much choice. We can't wait for rescue. You can't wait for rescue."

John grimaced at the finality in McKay's voice. So that's what was driving McKay so hard. Getting him home, because of his arm.

He closed his eyes. His left arm was tingling by his side, aching, and he felt like he could feel every pulse of his blood through the arteries and the damaged veins. Thank goodness for the morphine—he had a feeling he wouldn't even be able to think right now if not for that.

And, he thought, if it were just him at stake…he'd insist that they take the risk. Hide. With the Jumper off their sensors, it'd be easy to do. They could fly to the opposite side of the planet, hunker down. But McKay wasn't doing so hot either. Thankfully, Rodney didn't seem to be aware of it, and for once his hypochondria about hypoglycemia was coming in useful, but the scientist needed a doctor as badly as John did. McKay was so focused on the shaking in his right hand and assuming it just meant he had to eat something, that it obviously had not occurred to him that his left wasn't shaking as badly, or at all really, not since he'd calmed down. His right hand was demonstrating weakness, a lack of control...

It wasn't hypoglycemia McKay needed to worry about—it was what two hard cracks to the skull had done to his head.

He opened his eyes again, finding McKay looking directly at him. There was no arguing with that unblinking gaze. It was the same face that Teyla and Ronon had worn earlier.

Who was he kidding? Even if McKay didn't also need a doctor, there was no way his team was going to do anything but find a way out of this place today, because of his arm. He was constantly thirsty from all the fluids he was losing, leaking into his bandage—burns that bad meant infection was a foregone conclusion without treatment. He would die. And they knew it. And they weren't going to let that happen. He didn't know whether to love them for that…or hate them for the guilt it laid at his feet.

"Fine," he said finally, because there was nothing else he could do about it right now. "We take the risk."

"Wait." Ronon had moved forward, and was watching them from where he was leaning against the bulkhead. Neither John nor Rodney had noticed, but they looked at him now. Ronon nodded towards McKay's laptop. "Why don't we just take the ship off the sensors, then, tomorrow or something, attack the compounds and turn their stuff off again? This time," he looked at McKay, "you do it so they can't turn them back on."

McKay blinked, wearing the expression of someone who had just heard an incredibly stupid idea. "Attack their compound?"

"We've got the Jumper."

"A badly damaged Jumper that can't turn left, yes."

"We've got drones."

"Only three, though," John noted.

"That's enough," Ronon said.

"Except," McKay added, "they've got rocket launchers and an energy weapon."

"We'll be off their sensors," Ronon shrugged, "we cloak. Can't shoot us down if they can't see us."

"You can't fire a drone with us cloaked," McKay argued, "even if I could guarantee the cloak would hold."

"What?" John and Ronon both said that, and McKay lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh come on," the scientist griped, "be logical! There's a massive hole in the hull! That screws with the external sensors on the ship. Even if we could cloak, it probably won't hold. I wouldn't recommend relying on the shield for the same reason, even if we were confident we had the power to maintain it. At best, we're talking minutes of time only."

John groaned. He hated logical.

"Then, we attack on foot," Ronon said. And John turned to look at the Satedan. McKay just lowered his head. "Look," Ronon pressed, "we attack the Kaveer compound, turn off those Ancient machines. Then they couldn't raise the shield or fire their weapon, and we can go home."

John sighed. How he wished it were that easy. "It's not a good idea, Ronon," he said tiredly. Ronon frowned.

"Why?"

"Because there's more to it."

"What does that mean?"

"He means," McKay snapped, "that, besides the compounds we've seen, they obviously have an underground facility. What if it has an auxiliary power room, like Atlantis? What then? We attack there as well? And, by 'we' I'm assuming you mean you and Teyla, because Sheppard's about as capable of fighting off an army as I am right now. So, the two of you, with no proper gear for this environment, in a place you have never seen, against an army? Tell me," McKay raised an eyebrow, "how do you think you'd fare?"

Ronon just stared at him, then looked at John. The Colonel gave a single, reluctant nod.

"He's right, Ronon. We wouldn't stand a chance."

The Satedan grimaced, anger sweeping across his face suggesting he thought they were wrong, and turned around, storming back into the rear. John blinked when he saw that Teyla was back inside, standing near the control panels. She was watching him worriedly. When he caught her staring, she quickly looked back up at the panels.

The Colonel sighed—oddly, despite the argument they'd just had—he still felt like he could sleep.

Stay awake, he commanded himself.

Sighing again, he turned back to McKay. Rodney was leaning forward, his head in his hands.

"Hey," he called. "You okay?"

Rodney lifted his head up, squinted at John, then rubbed his temples again with the butts of his palms. He obviously wasn't going to answer what he felt was a dumb question. But that wasn't what John really wanted to know. The colonel leant forward, so that he could lower his voice.

"Is it getting worse?" he asked.

McKay grimaced, his hands dropping into his lap. "Yeah. Feels like a migraine." He snorted. "Actually, felt like a migraine before, but now it feels like a super-migraine." He gave a tiny smile at the use of 'super,' clearly aware of how stupid it sounded. "I just need to keep something down. It'll go away."

John said nothing, just gave a nod. "What about the weapon?" he asked, needing to keep his mind moving.

Rodney lowered his hands and stared out through the broken windshield. "That…is going to be hard."

What isn't, John thought aimlessly.

"Except that," the colonel tilted his head, "if you lower the shield, that will lower the shield protecting the weapon as well, correct?"

"Yes."

"So, then I can blow it up. A single drone should do it, since we know where it is."

Rodney's brow furrowed, and he gave a headshake. "No, you can't."

John closed his eyes in exasperation, then opened them again. "Why not?"

"Because we can't see the weapon," Rodney replied, shifting his gaze from the window to meet John's. "We aim a drone into its general location, it could hit the weapon, yes, but it could hit a lot more as well. We don't know what's down there. What we do know is that these people are powering their weapons and shields using geothermal energy, which means the ground below them could be very unstable. We could cause serious damage."

"So?"

"So, people could die."

"Again, so?"

"So there could be innocent people down there!" Rodney was frowning deeply now, his expression showing his bewilderment that John apparently wasn't 'getting' it. He was rubbing his right hand with his left again, the action clearly unconscious. "Who knows how many? If you could blow up the Genii underground bunker, would you?"

John blinked slowly, and McKay's eyes reflected a moment of dismay at the hesitation. Then John lowered his head. This was where Rodney and he differed. John would not kill unless he had to, but if the Genii became a threat again, there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect Atlantis. That being said…

"No." He would not destroy the Genii, not unless he had absolutely no other choice, and even then, he would do everything in his power to avoid killing innocent civilians. And…the same was true here. Rodney was right—there could be many more people than just soldiers and scientists down there. "I would not destroy the Genii's home. But in this case, here, with the Kaveer…I would fire on that weapon if there is no other option, and take the risk of it doing more damage. Besides the necessity of getting us home, they need to be stopped, Rodney. What if they go after Connam again? Or any of our friends on other worlds?" He looked up at Rodney again, his expression stern. "Which means you need to give me another option."

McKay's jaw tensed then loosened. "Using the Jumper's interface, we add a command element to the weapon's control systems preventing it from firing on the Jumper. Even better, I can do it before we take the shield down, so we don't run the risk of being hit before we dial."

John gave a huff of surprise. "Really?" Well, hell, why didn't he say so in the first place? Hell of a lot better than running the risk of being hit before they could blow it up.

"Yes, really. I've already uploaded everything on the weapon's controls into the Jumper's interface. But," McKay held up a shaking finger, "while inserting the command line into the weapon's matrix may not be hard, making sure the Kaveer don't immediately erase it is more difficult. What I need to do is hide it within a block of redundant coding, then put up firewalls and passwords that, with any luck, will take them months, if not years, to break down."

"Huh. And you can do that quickly?"

"With your help, yes."

"My help?" He frowned. "How? You need me to make the connection?" He waved at the Jumper's console. He assumed Rodney needed him for his more powerful control over the gene.

"No," McKay grimaced, "Well, yes, when the time comes. But right now, I need you to make me puzzles."

John just stared, unsure he had heard that right. "Puzzles?"

"Mathematical puzzles, brain teasers, theorems requiring proofs. As many as you can remember or make up, the more complicated the better. I need to write the code, do all the work of setting up the interface, and build the firewalls, then go to work on the Jumper with Teyla—I don't have time to actually come up with clever passwords. Way I see it, every puzzle you make for me, I can just insert in as the password for the firewall." He smiled, "It'll drive them crazy."

John still stared, then blinked. "You need me to do math," he stated. It wasn't a question.

"I know it's probably been a while since…"

"No, no," John waved his good hand, "it's cool." And, really, it was. Actually, it was more than cool. It was really cool. He couldn't help it—he smiled—and then quickly hid it. Rodney gave him a disgusted look, not fooled by John's attempt not to geek out at the prospect, and turned around.

"I saw my vest on the floor in the back," the scientist said. "My other laptop is hopefully still attached to it or nearby. You can use that."

"Okay," John was grinning again, glad that Rodney had turned around so he didn't see it. He flexed his right hand, grateful suddenly that it was the left that was hurt. "Cool."

"Not so much," Rodney replied, already typing away. "I may have to downgrade you to 'fine' for that grin you gave me."

John grinned even more. And, curiously, found he suddenly felt a lot more awake. He turned in the chair, planning to go and fetch Rodney's other laptop, but Teyla was a step ahead of him. She was walking towards him from the back, holding Rodney's laptop outstretched before her like a tray of pastries.

"Have fun," she offered warmly. John grinned again.

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TBC...

Teyla learns what it's really like to "work for" McKay in the next chapter, and it's not pretty...

A/N -- And big apologies to Hettie, who emailed me to ask if I meant "striped" in the last chapter (and I think someone else brought it up as well) or "stripped". I did mean striped, but when I went back to check the paragraph after I wrote her back, I realized I did not make it clear that I meant that the Jumper was striped by the weapon, not by the pod hitting the ground while still open (stripped would have made more sense in that context). Basically, I was trying to have McKay sound mentally peripatetic as he considered what might be wrong with the Jumper, and it ended up not being clear to anyone other than me. Sorry about that!