Stargate Atlantis: Fool's Gold4
John sighed, shrugged as he sat in Richard Woolsey's office. There was one thing he could say for the man; he had much more comfortable chairs than Elizabeth Weir ever had. John sat back, elbows on the armrests and long legs stretched out in front of him. "That's about it. They didn't have much intel on the Wraith, but at least they haven't been culled in months. And they remain loyal to us. One of the few," he grumbled.
"And they haven't been colonized," Richard noted, hands folded on his desk as he sat across from the military commander. "From what we can glean it seems to be worlds that are farther out in the galaxy that the Wraith are settling, so to speak. I've got Zelenka working on a map so we can chart their progress."
"Sounds good. Any luck making the Earth connection?"
Richard smiled briefly, sighed. "Not yet. We just don't have the power capacity. We will eventually, but it will be later rather than sooner. Which actually is not a bad thing, considering."
"What do you think the flak will be once they can contact us?" John asked, fingers drumming on the armrest as he shifted his position.
"The worst case scenario is that they recall us, most of us to face formal charges and then dismiss us from active duty. Then they would replace us with a new and more compliant team."
"What's the best case?"
"We get a slap on the wrist and some sanctions against us. Since we are in Pegasus now there's not much they can do. I think our government will realize what a mess it would be if we were to be recalled to Earth and just leave us out here out of everyone's hands."
"Except for the SGC," John noted, scowling. "And by extension the NID and the IOA and whatever else wants a piece of us. They'll want to make an example out of one of us."
"A whipping boy? Yes, I suppose you are right. The question is which one."
John shrugged. "Unless we can produce proactive results such as advanced weaponry and other toys that can be shipped back to Earth they will have to do something to punish us. At least that would be something in our favor," he mused, "bringing back a new weapon."
"Doctors O'Meara and Beckett have something as well. There's a strikingly different composition to the Wraith enzyme now. It would explain Todd's increased abilities as well as his enhanced strength and speed. Perhaps the Wraith have found a way to become immune to the Hoffan plague."
"Which will make them harder to kill. That's not good news," John remarked sourly.
"No, I'm afraid it's not. Do you think that could explain their behavior?"
John shrugged. "I have no idea." He stood. "I guess I better see what Beckett's got on this. I just hope it doesn't involve that damn Iratus bug," he grumbled, rubbing his neck in memory.
XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX
"What is it?" Ronon stood, arms folded across his chest, staring down at the table in the physics lab. Hundreds of minute pieces were scattered across it. Bits of glass and metal and crystals and tiny wires created a myriad of nothing.
Rodney glanced up at him, suspecting sarcasm but the Satedan appeared serious. "What is it? You hardly left me enough to work with here!" he snapped. "I knew I should have gone on this mission! Even the scanner's readouts tell me nothing because it wasn't set to the correct frequency! What the hell were you thinking?"
"To stop the transmission."
"Well, mission accomplished! While you were at it why didn't you just blast the thing to oblivion?"
Ronon smiled. "I just used my foot. That was enough."
"More than enough." Rodney sighed, pulled a large magnifying lens to him. He positioned it over the fragments and switched on the light. He grabbed a pair of tweezers and began to carefully sort through the mess of debris. Shards glittered up at him.
"What is it?" Ronon repeated.
"I don't know yet! Isn't there something else you could be doing?" Rodney snapped, unable to work with someone towering over him, watching his every move. "Like shooting something or killing something or beating the crap out of some marines?"
Ronon smiled at the physicist's annoyance. He was beginning to understand why John enjoyed baiting the scientist so much. "Not today. What is it? Wraith?"
Rodney sighed. "No."
"Earth?"
"No."
"Genii?"
"No."
"Ancient?"
"No."
"Then what?" Ronon asked.
"It's alien, all right?" Rodney snapped, glaring. "Go away! Wait! At least bring me a sandwich if you're going to hover like that!"
XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX
John strolled down the hallways of Atlantis, heading for the lower levels as Carson was not in the infirmary and John thought he would try the biology labs. Sounds drew him. He hears a song that echoes cheerly from the river winding clearly. He shook his head, as the noise of the water bubbling in the walls competed with the faint tones of music and then the tinkling of women's laughter. He smiled, nearing, drawn to the feminine merriment, especially after he heard his name.
"Seriously!" Susan Williams was stating, hands on her hips. She shook her head and her blond hair fluttered around her. "You remember how those gray pants were!"
"They clung to every long, lean line of his body," Julie Armstrong noted with a smirk.
"They left little to the imagination, that's for sure," Katie Brown agreed, sounding like a schoolteacher scolding an errant student.
"To every fine, fine asset," one giggled.
"Not to mention the unmentionable P90." Laughter resounded, momentarily drowning the music.
"Especially when he would walk slow and swagger, oh my God!" one enthused.
"I miss the gray pants!" Susan mourned. Laughter circled the room.
"Like that black t-shirt," sighed Laura Pendleton as she stood near the table. "Here."
Moira O'Meara was standing on a table, adjusting a monitor. She took the proffered speaker and reached up to attach it to the wall, adjusting it so it would fit. "I wonder if that's why he stopped wearing the gray pants," she mused. "Do you think he knew? Naughty colonel," she saucily scolded, hips swinging to the music. The women softly laughed, began to sing out loud with the song that was playing. Moira began to sing, joining in the chorus of the song playing. "'I'm the only one who'll walk across the fire for you. And I'm the only one who'll drown in my desire for you. It's only fear that makes you run, the demons that you're hiding from; when all your promises are gone I'm the only one…'"
She paused. Silence had fallen like a rock. Every voice was stilled but hers. "Hey! Why am I the only one singing?" she asked.
"I wouldn't exactly call that singing."
She froze at the familiar voice, male, rasping and low. She gulped. Slowly she turned to see John lounging in the doorway, a smile of amusement on his handsome face, in his green eyes. He straightened, sauntering towards her. The women parted, all silent, all clumped together like a herd of deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car.
John stopped, waiting to see what she would do and say. He had quite been enjoying the show, Moira on the table, swinging her hips and a very shapely rear in snug khaki pants, her green shirt lifting as she raised her arms, her long brown hair swinging messily. The monitor was at an angle as she couldn't quite reach it all the way, even on tippy-toe. A single rose was perched in a vase on the table. The bud was slowly beginning to bloom, pink petals opening shyly as she stepped carefully around it.
The discussion had both flattered and amused him. It has also surprised him, this frank discussion of his attractions and physical attributes by the normally serious and ever practical female scientists. Moira's off-key singing had both annoyed and charmed him.
Moira stepped onto a chair, then to the floor with as much dignity as she could muster. She snatched her white lab coat and pulled it on, as if restoring it would erase the silliness of what John had witnessed. She covered herself hoping any blatant emotion would be concealed as well from his assessing gaze. Boldly she stepped to him, alone. "Colonel Sheppard, did you need something?" She slid her hands into the pockets of her lab coat, wishing she could dismiss the blush she felt warming her face.
"Besides earplugs?" he quipped, earning a scowl from her. He smiled, tilted his head to one side as his gaze encompassed her before locking with her brown eyes again. She was a plain woman but somewhat pretty as she faced him. Her brown eyes were expressive, emotive. "As a matter of fact, yes, I need the information about the altered Wraith enzyme."
"Doctor Beckett has it and he forwarded it to you," Moira replied sternly, trying not to smile as it appeared the dashing military commander was actually flirting with her. She flexed her fingers in the pockets of her lab coat.
"Ah. Thank you." He glanced at the women staring, staring at him. "Ladies." He turned, headed for the exit. He paused, returned to her. "Oh, and Doctor O'Meara," he said, gaze on the embroidered name on her lab coat which just happened to be above the curve of one breast.
"Yes, Colonel Sheppard?" she asked, as he was still staring at her chest, his perfect lips forming a smirk as he was deliberately being rude.
John let his gaze remain there a little too long until he looked up to see her admonishment. He winked at her. "For the record…I knew." He smiled again and sauntered out of the lab, leaving the women to stare after him.
He smiled hearing their burst of renewed hilarity.