Camouflage2
Moira dozed. Woke, hearing voices. She opened her eyes, moving carefully onto her back. Squinted as the bright lights of the infirmary shone down upon her. She sat, looked to see John still seated near the bed. Data pad on the floor near his boots. He was talking quietly into his earpiece, hand up to his ear.
"Then re-schedule Evans and pull back Delta from the mainland. They never should have been sent there in the first place. They are on permanent assignment in the city unless I authorize otherwise." He looked up as Carson approached, an unhappy expression on his face. John's stomach lurched. He moved to his feet instantly. "Carson, what is it?" He looked at Moira.
"Is it bad? Because I feel better," Moira assured, eyes on the doctor.
"You'll be fine, love. And no, there's nothing in you. No parasite."
"And I'm not pregnant," she asserted.
John's brows quirked, puzzled why she chose that moment to say that, but he held his tongue.
"Then what is it, Carson?"
"Moira, you've been, or rather you were infected with the enzyme. I mean a lot of it. A dose of it that was quite virulent, hence your fever and vomiting. What's more, there's more to it than the enzyme itself."
"What does that mean? I mean we knew she was on the enzyme...and that does explain a lot...the mood swings, the hormonal surges, the irrational anger," John mused.
"Irrational?" she complained. "I don't think it's irrational to be angry because you refuse to tell me how many ex-lovers you have in Atlantis right now, or to be pissed at your extraordinary sexual appetite, or to be–"
"But it was extraordinary, wasn't it?" he quipped, raising a brow.
She fumed, but shook her head. "Men! Oh! You think that's why I was teasing your–"
"Yes, partly," he swiftly interjected, glanced at Carson who was trying to pretend to be elsewhere. "Sorry, doc. You see how she is."
"Me? You're the one with the Carson, I only ingested fruit and water. And not much of that. Not enough to make me sick," she abruptly changed topics. "And no moss. Not like John did and that made him as sick as I am." She frowned. "I don't understand how..."
"That son of a bitch," John snarled, realizing. "The colonel did this."
"What? No, John! The colonel would never hurt me," she argued.
"No? Just make you a little sick. But why? Moira, right before you left him he kissed you. Remember?"
She colored, recalling it. "I...um...yes."
"He slipped you something, then. Remember?" John prompted.
"I..did he? I don't know. Let me think." She stared at the distance, trying to remember. Recall every detail of that last, long kiss. So like her John yet not like him. He had even tasted different. That long, devouring kiss as he had pulled her into his arms.
John frowned. Jealous as he saw her going over the kiss in her mind. Every little detail. He remembered the length of the kiss, the depth. The irrational jealousy and anger filled him yet again. He stepped close. "Here, let me refresh your memory." He leaned closer to her. Lips hovering over hers. "Tongue?"
"What?" she whispered, startled by his sudden proximity. Embarrassed as if caught kissing another man, which she had, but it had been the same man. Just a different version. "No! No tongue in the infirmary!" she scolded.
He smiled briefly. Gaze locked with hers. "I meant the kiss. Did he use tongue?"
"I...um..."
"Of course he did." He kissed her. Soft, slow. Guiding her lips apart. Sliding his tongue along hers. Making her murmur. Her hand touch his chest, slide up. He pulled back. "Minty fresh," he teased. She smiled. "Well?"
"Well what?"she asked dreamily. "Oh!" She blushed as he smiled, amused. "Um...yes. I swallowed something...I nearly choked on his tongue, his...something went down and I couldn't stop it. Then he apologized and he..." Her brown eyes widened.
John straightened. "Damn him. I thought so. Carson?"
Carson had been watching the interplay between them. Amused. Startled. "Yes, that would explain everything, Moira. You'll be fine. You only have a slight increase in your adrenaline glands now, and that will dissipate normally. Most of whatever he gave you left your body when you got sick. There's something additional there...I'm running more tests now to isolate the exact chemicals but you'll be fine now. Why would he slip you something?"
"I don't know," Moira sighed, still in disbelief. "It doesn't make any sense! He wouldn't hurt me, he wouldn't," she insisted, more to herself than to the doctor.
"You forget what he did, Moira. To his Moira," John reminded. "He killed her. He'd use you as a guinea pig to save the city, the survivors. He gave you just enough of whatever it was to make you sick...but why? To keep you here in Atlantis?"
"It can't be all about me, John!" she refuted. "First and foremost he want to protect the survivors. To end the Wraith. John, what would you do?"
"Me? For one I wouldn't put you at risk. Not for anyone or anything, Moira."
She touched his hand at his side. Smiled. "But you could determine his motives, couldn't you? Better than anyone else."
"Maybe. Let me think." He entwined his fingers with hers. "It could be some elaborate ploy. I'm not sure."
"No. I told you, it can't be all about me." She considered. "We need to access that flash drive." She freed her hand. Swung her legs off the bed.
"Moira?"
"Moira, where–" Carson echoed.
"I'm fine. I can't think here. Carson, I need to rest in my room. To figure this out, with John."
She stood. "As soon as you identify whatever is in that enzyme that made me so ill please call me. John, come with me, please. We need to see the rest of that flash drive ASAP." She took his arm.
"As long as you rest, Moira, fine. Go on, then. John, if she gets sick at all you–"
"I've got you on speed dial, doc. Moira." He began to lead her out of the medical bay.
"John, there has to be a good reason for making me–"
"Sick? No. There is none, Moira. None. But you're right. There must be a reason. We'll figure it out together, sweetheart." Once in her room he led her to the table. Sat on the chair. Patted his thighs. "Here." He powered the data pad.
She stood, smirking. "I can sit in my own chair, colonel."
"This is better, Moira. Much more cozy. Come on, baby. You know you want to," he teased with a smile.
She smiled. Laughed. "Fine, sweetie. Just keep that thing locked down." He laughed as she sat on his lap. Squirmed to make herself comfortable. Touched the keyboard as the screen filled with the files. Moved the cursor. "Atlantis. Any ideas?"
"Several...but for that file? Hmm..." He drummed his fingers on the table, after scooting them closer to it. Moira settled comfortably against his chest as his arms encircled her. "This will be on lock down...the fall of the city, I'm guessing." He typed a sequence. "Ah." It opened.
"Wow. What was it, John?"
"My serial number."
"Your...oh. But I don't know that."
"No, but it'd be easy enough for you to find out. Here we go...it's a vid file. The last days." He watched over her shoulder, holding her close to him. Hands resting on her thighs.
Jumpy images played on the screen. A visual recording of the invasion of the city by the ATA Wraith. Guns. Lasers. Bodies. Explosions. Scattered images, disjointed.
"What's that? On the 'Gate?" she asked.
"Looks like C4...but that...naquadah? Shit. He's going to blow the Stargate. Which is pretty difficult to do in the first place. Even though the enemy is already through. Must be ships...hive ships surrounding the planet to reinforce the ground troops...blocking the 'Gate and any means of egress," he mused, watching.
"Isn't that, that Caldwell?" Moira gasped. Recognizing the features of Steven Caldwell. Although they were heavily mutated by blue scaly skin.
"Yes. Shit. He's been compromised. The enemy within. That explains the access, at least. And the ATA gene, of course, enabled them to completely take over every system...why the hell didn't he evacuate more?"
"He tried. He said there wasn't time," Moira defended.
"There's always time," John argued. "Contingency plans."
"They were at war, John."
"Exactly! Stop defending him, Moira! He's not me. Look at that! Whoa. Stop. Back that up, would you, please. Slow it down."
Moira did so. "What did you see? He was at the Ancient Chair device." She rewound the images of him at it. Played them slowly.
"Something...see that panel? The one he's accessing...slow it down. Play it again." John drummed his fingers on her thigh. Stopped. Stared keenly at the sequence. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. "Damn I'm clever. Well, he's clever. He's done something to it. To ours as well. I bet you any money he has. That sequence...son of a bitch."
"What?" she asked, perplexed. Watching the colonel kneeling at the Chair, at the access panel. Fingers playing on it. "I don't understand."
"Watch his hand. Once more. That." John pointed to the screen. "That is a military code. A sequence to be typed, a numerical code for sensitive, highly sensitive data. My code, Moira. Not for here. From Afghanistan. Got it. When we are done here we will inspect our own Chair."
"You think he did something here? To ours?" she questioned.
"Yes. And he must have implemented it before his other, er, antics. Before he took you. Under a password that is exclusive to me, known only to me. I don't think he'd endanger the city or anything like that, but he did something. Go on."
Moira resumed the video. They watched in silence. The exploding ships. The towers of the city being devastated by the ships in the sky as the shield failed. The last scenes of the city from underwater as it sank. Sank slowly into the waters. Smoking and belching fire.
"Secondary charges, there," John noted quietly. "On the star drive itself. That's what I would have done. Complete and total destruction of the city and its intel. Of the Stargate if that is even possible. Before it falls into enemy hands. No intel compromised. Earth protected."
"Total destruction of the 'Gate and the control room?" she asked, horrified.
"Yes. If the city was to be taken we would set the self-destruct codes after evacuating everyone. And place secondary charges, incendiary charges on the star drive, the ZPMs, the Stargate. Destroy all intel, all access to Earth. Leave no survivors."
She closed the file, somber. Touched his hand on her thigh. "John...what happened there won't happen here."
"No. It won't. But it could, Moira. The wolf's been at the door more than once, you know. So far we've been lucky." He sat back, brooding. "You know that the SGC would send a nuclear bomb through the 'Gate if we were ever compromised. If Earth was in danger we're all expendable."
She turned on his lap to meet his gaze. "Really?"
"Yes. That's classified intel, so keep it close, Moira. We have to hold out here for our own survival. If something like that happened..." He gestured towards the data screen, "Earth would finish the job if we couldn't."
"Wow. I...wow..."
"I know. Grim but necessary. What else is on there?"
"Not much more, I think. Just..." She closed the data pad. Eyed him. "John, you...you would stay behind, wouldn't you? Like he did? To initiate all the sequences and make sure–"
"Yes." His arm tightened on her. "That's my job, Moira. My responsibility. But it won't come to that. I won't let it," he vowed, voice lowering. His lips had just brushed hers when a knocking at the door interrupted.
Moira sighed, slid off his lap. "You better get that."
He moved to the door, waved it open. "Rod–"
"These equations are incredible!" Rodney McKay enthused, entering the room. "They are brilliant! Well, of course they are brilliant because they are mine, well, my alternate's but you know what I mean. Quite complex and a form of higher math, obviously beyond anything we have here but I can still understand them. The other me must be a genius, of course like me but these equations are only postulated, unproven theories in our particular reality! Can you imagine the implications? The anomaly alone would be, oh hi Moira, are you feeling better?" he asked, circling the room as he talked. "The anomaly alone would be–"
"Rodney!" John nearly shouted, trying to head off the rambling scientist. "Are they too complex?"
"No! Not for me, of course not but anyone else they would be completely beyond them! The formulas are incredibly intricate, terribly complex, amazingly precise! I mean one mistake, just one and you could end up anywhere, any when or more than likely obliterated and erased from all existence!"
"Can you shut it down?"
"This opens a whole new method of travel, John!" Rodney enthused, still circling, ignoring his friend's question. "We've broken through the fourth dimension! Could access alternate realities, different realities to side-step realities! We could make leaps in scientific advancements and–"
"Rodney!" John snapped. "Can you shut it down?"
"What?" He paused. "Maybe...I'd have to trigger it first but I need a, a..." He snapped his fingers. "Was there some Ancient device with these precise calculations?"
"Yes. A keycard," Moira answered, still standing near the table. "He used it in his ship."
"Of course! To program the algorithms and precisely control the trigger's mechanism! Ancient tech using the ship's power sources! The subtlety is beautiful! The ship has to be shielded since it was underwater, the energy drain would be immense to–"
"Rodney! Shut it down!"
"What? We can't just–"
"Yes, we can. I want you to shut that thing down. Permanently," John ordered, moving to stand in front of his friend. To halt his perambulations around the room.
"What? Why? You...oh..." He glanced at Moira, suddenly understanding.
"Yes," John confirmed.
"But the scientific–"
"Don't care. Find a way to shut down the anomaly for good. The one here, the ones on other planets. I want that particular reality unaccessible."
"Even if I could do it he could still access the–"
"Find a way to make sure he can't," John insisted. "And I need the specs on those ships. That's how he got into the city. Our sensors read his ship as a Jumper, as Ancient so it didn't challenge him. He could penetrate our defenses easily and I won't let that happen again. I need you to find a way to interrupt the culling beam on a Dart as well. So it can't take anyone. Can you do that?"