Selection Factor11

Moira briskly entered their room. She crossed to the table, pushing roses aside to gather a collection of folders and books into a pile. She began searching through papers. "I have it here somewhere, John. Just let me find it. It's an older study but I think it's pertinent to this particular line of inquiry. Some things we even left off the data screens. We wrote it down old school style. Like notes in class. But it's still pertinent."

John smirked. Moved to stand behind her. Touched her back and slid his hands down, then under the bulky sweater to squeeze her rear. "Talking of pert little–"

"We weren't!" She whirled, shoved him. "John! I need to–"

"No, we haven't finished talking and you need to stop working so damn much, Moira. All right? Ease up on the science, doctor. You're giving me a headache."

She smiled. "Sorry, colonel. You–"

"Sex."

"What, now?"

He laughed. "I wish, but no. I meant the thing. You know. You said it was just sex, Moira. What exactly did you mean by that?"

She frowned. "It's not important, John. Frankly, I'm surprised you don't see it, being the sex guy and all. Move." She stepped past him. "I might have left it in the–"

"Wait!" He caught her arm, detaining her. "Moira, what? What? What thing? You said she wasn't in love with me, right?"

"She's not." She eyed him, shook her head. "Do the math, sweetie. It's because of the sex."

"What?"

She sighed. "Are you being deliberately obtuse? Move!" She pushed past him but he caught her, drew her against him. Her back to him as his arms enfolded her. "John?"

"Talk to me, damn it," he urged. Kissing her throat. Gently caressing her waist, the baby bump. "My Moira. You are talking in circles so stop that and just tell me what the heck you meant by that. So?"

Moira sighed, yielding. Melting into the solidity of his body behind hers. His arms trapping her in warmth, in protection. In obstinacy as he waited for her reply. She touched his hands, stilling them over the baby bump. "You really want me to spell it out for you, sweetie?" She freed herself, turning to him. Ran her hands up his chest. "Oh John, are you really that clueless? You must know, you must. Hell, you tell me yourself all of the time, well, not all of the time, but you love telling me how much women want you, watch you, even hunger for you."

"And...you're saying that Elizabeth is one of those–" He began slowly. Reluctantly.

"No, John." She smiled at his evident relief. "It's the sex. Our sex."

"You've lost me again. Our sex?"

She sighed. "Think about it, John. Our sex."

He smiled. "I do, baby, all of the damn time. Why do you think I've constantly got a raging–"

"Focus, sweetie!" She tapped his chest. "Our sex. Exuberant. Loud. Obvious. When she saw the table? Work it out, Mensa boy. John, I want to get out of the city."

He blinked at the change in topic, still puzzling over her words, her almost explanation. Trying not to get distracted again by the mention of sex. Their sex. Their exuberance. "Huh? Moira, you still haven't answered my–"

"Please, John." She took his hands into hers. "I am tired of all this work, you're right. I need a break. I want to get out of here, just the two of us, okay? Just to the mainland is all." She brightened. "We can pack a picnic lunch, John! It will be fun. Relaxing. Just the two of us without any interruptions, okay? I just need to–"

"Colonel Sheppard to the control room! Colonel Sheppard to the control room!" a voice broke over the PA, sounding calm but determined.

John freed her, tapped his earpiece. "Sargent, report."

"Incoming from P18F27, sir. Larson and his team. You requested to be informed."

"Oh. Copy." He sighed, tapped the earpiece. "Sorry, sweetheart, duty calls. We'll have to table that picnic for later, okay? Moira?"

"Fine." She turned away from him, but he pulled her close. Kissed her. A long, deep kiss that startled her. Enamored her. "John?" she whispered as he freed her. Brown eyes wide.

He smiled. "We can table that along with some other things, baby. And you still need to answer my question. Back ASAP. Get some rest, sweetheart. No work. None." Before she could protest he was gone, striding confidently out of their room. Boots noisy on the floor.

John entered the control room, glanced at Rodney who was sitting at a console. "Status?"

"Huh? Oh, Larson's back. Look at this, John! I managed to successfully interface this alien thingy with our scanner and it's giving me an entire readout of the planet!" He displayed the triangular device. A tiny screen was scrolling readings which were being relayed to a larger monitor. A depiction of the entire planet was appearing. The land masses near the equator. The city of Atlantis a tiny dot on an enormous ocean.

"Oh. Is that wise? I mean, if you don't really know what it does yet it could be transmitting for all we know," John cautioned.

"Don't you think I already thought of that? And no, it's not capable of that!"

John shook his head, moved to the 'Gate room as a team of marines emerged. "Report, major."

"Sir, nothing to report. That is to say the standard meet and greet. No Wraith activity, but they did spot a hive ship about a month ago." The dark-skinned man shrugged. "As I said, sir, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Fine. Debrief in twenty, major. Dismissed." John stood looking at the inert Stargate. Thinking back over his conversation with Moira. "Major!" he called before the man had cleared the room. "What about the planet?"

"What about it, sir? It was pretty dull, to be honest. Rocky terrain. Some trees. Not much in the way of biologicals. Like other rocks out here. Sir?"

"Nothing. Dismissed. Debrief in twenty." John followed him out of the 'Gate room and returned to the control room. "Rodney, are you still fiddling with that?" he teased, moving to another console. He brought up a star chart of the various planets.

"Yes," Rodney snapped. "This is incredible, John! Look at these readings! It's giving me everything about the planet itself! Mass, density, continental shelves, the depth of the ocean, the currents, the rotation of the axis and the what are you doing?" Distracted he looked over as John was accessing another screen. "That's a star chart."

"Yes, it is. Wow, nothing gets by you," John quipped. Inputting the recent mission's location.

"Ha ha. Seriously, what are you doing?"

"I thought your own stuff was fascinating."

"It is, but I can multi-task. Why are you bringing up that planet?"

"Just curious, is all." He studied the chart. Brought up another one as his fingers slid across the keys. The power hummed happily under his touch. Filling the screen. He sat suddenly, becoming more intent as he entered more data.

"John? Aren't those recent missions?" Rodney asked, scooting closer. Ignoring his own work as he watched the line of planets on the screen. Their identifications highlighted.

"Yeah. Just checking. How's that alien scanner doing? Accessing all of our primary systems now?"

"What? No!" Rodney whirled in his chair, scowled. He shut down the device. Disconnected it from the computer. "It's nearly finished now anyway." He turned back to see more planets highlighted on a grid. "Why are you tracking recent missions?"

John was silent. A scowl on his handsome face. He brought up a larger star chart. Implemented his findings. "What does this look like to you? Wait! Let me overlay this." He brought up another grid of planets. Interposed the two together. Frowning now.

Rodney eyed the screen. "Off the top of my head, I'd say nothing. Two differing projection patterns. Going in two different directions. What's that second one anyway? John?"

"That's what I thought. And this one?" He added yet another layer.

"That one is entirely different from the other two. What is that? John? Are you running covert missions now?"

"No...but I may have to do just that, Rodney." He shut it down suddenly. The screen went dark, the data fleeing at his touch. "I'll be damned..."

"What is it? What did you see that I didn't?" Rodney asked, baffled.

John glanced at his friend. "I think we've been compromised, Rodney. No, I know we have. The question is why."

"Compromised? What the hell does that mean? And who? Who? The Wraith? A Wraith worshiper or, or a Genii spy or, or a–"

"No, nothing like that," John assured. He glanced up at Elizabeth's office. Debating. Looked back at Rodney who was watching him, a mixture of alarm and puzzlement on his face. He looked at the Stargate. The giant stone circle standing sentinel. Without a word he spun on his heels and departed.

Moira was sitting on the bed, legs crisscrossed, book balanced in her lap. She was munching on some chips. Frowning at the book, the words on the page. She set the bag of chips aside, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Licked her lips and sipped some water. She touched her abdomen, feeling carefully. Wondering at the tiny life inside her. Her baby. John's son.

"Moy? I need your is there a problem?" John asked abruptly, interrupting his own request as he neared the bed. Staring.

She met his gaze. Smiled. "What? No, nothing like that." She set the book aside. "I was just reading, is all. What do you need, John?"

"Reading?" He sat close. Lifted the book. Saw it was about pregnancy. He smiled. Set it aside. "Ah. This is the kind of research you should be doing, sweetheart."

"But I doubt it's the kind you need. So? What did you need?"

"I need your migratory projection."

"Oh." She moved but he stopped her.

"Let me." He stood. Grabbed the laptop off the table. Moved back to sit next to her. "Show me, Moira."

"Okay." She opened the computer and brought up the data. "What's going on, John?"

"Not sure yet." He grabbed the bag of chips, began munching as she worked. "You sure you're okay, sweetheart?"

"Yes, just resting, sweetie. Don't you worry." She tapped the keyboard. "There."

"May I?" He took the laptop, setting the chips aside. Brought up his earlier grids. Overlapping them one by one. Expression serious.

Moira eyed him. Eyed the screen. Scooted closer, touching his thigh. "John?"

John was scowling again. "Just as I thought. Look at this, Moira. They don't intersect. Only a few points, and those are few and far between. What does that tell you? That tells me that we are being deliberately guided away from those points of interest. Okay, maybe I'm being paranoid and it could be coincidence but what if it's not? What then? I mean it's right here!" He tapped the screen.

Moira shook her head. "What is?" she asked, only seeing a proliferation of star charts, of planets on planets. "John?"

He glanced at her. "We're being guided away from it, Moira. The question is why. And by whom. You see this?" He traced his finger along a blue line. "This is the track of our recent missions. Across the galaxy. The planets we've visited. This," he traced a finger along a green line, "is your migratory projection. This," he traced a finger along a red line, "is the deserted planets where we found alien tech and have been temporarily unable to pursue that line of inquiry. This," he traced a finger along a violet line, "is mission logs from the past six months. Before...before whatever happened happened."

"Something happened?" Moira studied the screen. The various lines. The planets. "You think we're being guided away from those particular planets we're researching? Why?"

"Hell if I know," he admitted. "It doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"No." Moira took the laptop from him, perusing it closely. "You, you don't think it's deliberate, do you?" she asked, voice falling softly. Gaze following the colored lines until they blurred.

"I'm not sure," he admitted, his arm slipping round her, drawing her close. Secure. "You tell me. Use that science brain of yours, sweetheart, because my military one is trained to spot all sorts of conspiracies. Even if they may not be there. All these missions to these non-threatening, obsequious worlds. Why? I mean I know we need allies and all of that, but we need to expand our missions to encompass all the worlds that have a Stargate in order to gather as much intel as we can. Right? Even if it is dangerous, or unknown. We need to push further out there, those outer planets. Find what is out there, don't we? I'm sure the Ancients did. I know the Wraith are even as we speak. Maybe those other aliens too, before they were wiped out. So what's stopping us? Or rather who?"

Moira closed the laptop. Suddenly snuggled against him. Disturbed. "John? You...you don't think...you...Elizabeth?" she whispered.

He kissed her brow. "Honestly, I don't know. That doesn't make any sense either."

Moira rested her head on his shoulder. Tracing circles on his chest. "Then what does?" she asked softly. He was silent, pondering her question. Relaxing with her in his arms. Her body pressed to his. Her warmth and love encompassing him.

"I don't know...but I will find out," he quietly assured.