Oh, my goodness. I am so sorry for this delay. I had a sinus infection. Then we had a week of rain, which killed our satellite connection. Then I was at my grandmother's beach house, again no internet. Then we came back, and our internet was still down even though it was sunny. And now I'm posting this from a Panera cause the satellite is is STILL out, and to top it off I'm rushed cause of the lunch crush.

Please forgive me!

Okay, now that the excuses are out of the way...

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I still don't own Stargate Atlantis, Steve, and/or any other SGA character. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and is strictly not-for-profit. The only things I own are: Dr. Mira Sheckle, The Glove, the plot, and other OC/plot-related bits.

Chapter Nine: Testing the Waters - Part Two

3 years, 48 weeks earlier

On M1X-347, Sergeant Bates shielded his eyes from the sun and surveyed the horizon, methodically patrolling the area around the alien planet's inactive Stargate. Nothing moved, save for the distant shadows of a few circling birds and the familiar shapes of his team. They'd been exploring the rocky terrain, and the forests surrounding the granite fields, for several hours. So far, they had little to show for their efforts.

His radio squawked. "Geerman to Sergeant Bates."

Bates tapped his earpiece. "Report, Lieutenant."

"I've got signs, Sir. The Athosians' report checks out."

Pausing in his patrol, Sergeant Bates swung about and stared at the distant swath of evergreens where Lieutenant Geerman was investigating. "What sort of signs?"

A static clinking of equipment. "Torn up tree stumps. Clawed trunks…"

"How big are the claw marks?"

"Pretty big, Sir. Wait a sec…" Bates heard a low whistle. "Wow. Yeah, whatever made these was huge. There's a boulder here. Solid granite. All gouged up… The gashes are wide enough to fit my fingers. Couple inches deep."

Sergeant Bates frowned. Claw marks in granite… "Are they fresh?"

Two miles away, in a dim, leafy glade, Lieutenant Geerman pushed away from the towering, mossy stone and reexamined the mauled tree trunks. He fingered a deep tear in the thick, knobbly bark. "Relatively fresh, Sir. Sap's tacky. Given the humidity, I'd guess this happened 8 to 12 hours ago."

That put the gouging sometime in the last hours of the planet's night. Again, in accordance with the Athosians' report. Sergeant Bates mentally scratched M1X-347 off the list of potential Alpha sites. "Understood. Make your way back to the Gate."

"Should I complete my circuit? I'm almost done."

Bates eyed the cloudless sky. There was plenty of daylight left. "Go ahead, Lieutenant. But don't take unnecessary risks. Avoid caves and steer clear of tracks."

"Got it, Sir." In the glade, Lieutenant Geerman jumped down from a mangled tree stump and regretfully skirted a cool, rippling stream. "Geerman out."

With a slight, rueful grin, Sergeant Bates relayed Geerman's findings to the rest of his team. Then he shook his head at the chorus of disappointed grumbling that ensued. To a man, (and to a woman), the consensus had been that M1X-347 was a temperate paradise. Plentiful resources, rich soil, abundant wildlife, picturesque landscapes… Everyone had been hoping the Athosians' description was exaggerated.

But, sadly, it was not. The planet, though frequently visited, boasted no permanent population because it was only habitable during the day.

Nocturnal predators were a bitch.

Especially giant ones…

"I know, people. It's a terrible hardship not setting up shop on a planet populated by man-eating beasts." The grumbling complaints stopped. Satisfied, Bates continued, "Finish your current survey quadrants and return to the Gate. We're wrapping early. This world has nothing that Atlantis needs now." What they needed were trading partners and safe havens. M1X-347 was neither.

"Actually… That might not be true."

Sergeant Bates frowned. "Specifics, Dr. Corde."

"I'm picking up faint energy readings…" There was a pause, and the rustle of disturbed foliage came over the radio. "I'm following them…"

"What sort of energy readings?"

"I'm not sure. But they're definitely not natural." The scientist hesitated. Then… "They're originating outside my quadrant."

Bates's frown deepened. "Stay in your quadrant, Doctor."

"But—"

"No buts!" Bates strode purposefully towards the dialing device. "I'm sending Laris to you. Do not leave your assigned quadrant until she's with you."

"I understand."

Stopping by the mushroom-shaped console, Sergeant Bates shouldered his P-90 and began keying in Atlantis's address. "Private Laris, did you get that?"

The radio crackled softly. "Yes, Sir. I'm heading to Corde's position."

"Good. The rest of us will follow shortly. If you find the source of the signals, do not. I repeat. DO NOT approach until the rest of us get there."

"Will do, Sir. We'll wait for back up."

"Everyone else. Change of plans. When you've finished surveying your current quadrants, rendezvous in Dr. Corde's area. We'll regroup there before investigating." A brief chorus of affirmatives issued from the earpiece. "Bates out." With a satisfying clunk, Sergeant Bates depressed the final symbol and slapped the central activation switch. Energy electrified the air surrounding the hilltop as the Stargate's chevrons locked, then a watery explosion materialized in mid-air, bursting from the two-story metal ring. The churning energy frothed for a fraction of a second, a suspended, sideways geyser, then imploded in on itself and snapped into a rippling, blue pool.

Sergeant Bates tapped his radio again. "Atlantis, this is Sergeant Bates. Transmitting IDC now."

Peter Grodin's voice answered. "IDC confirmed. You're early, Sergeant. Is something the matter?"

"Not yet. But we have a development." In a business-like tone, Bates rattled off his message. "SGA-2 has confirmed the rumors about this planet. We've also picked up some energy readings. My team is moving away from the Stargate to investigate. We'll send updates as information becomes available."

"I see." In Atlantis's control room, Peter Grodin noted the intel in his log. "I'll pass this along. We'll check-in with you at the regular time. Remember. You MUST return to the Stargate before sundown. With the rumors confirmed, it is imperative."

Sergeant Bates nodded grimly. "We'll be there."

"Good luck, SGA-2."

"Thank you, Atlantis. Bates out."

As the wormhole flickered out of existence, Sergeant Bates left the DHD behind, and strode down the hill to join the shadowy shapes slowly migrating across the rocky terrain. He set a brisk, yet cautious, pace through the grass-concealed rocks. A few minutes later, (roughly a third of the way to the tree line), his radio crackled to life again.

"Laris to Sergeant Bates."

"Go ahead, Private."

"I've rendezvoused with Dr. Corde. We're about to exit the quadrant."

Glancing at the sky, Bates quickened his pace. "Understood. Keep an eye on your watch. If you think you're running out of daylight, turn around. We can always come back later with a Jumper."

"Will do, Sir. Time shouldn't be a problem. Dr. Corde thinks we're close."

"Good. Continue checking in at regular intervals."

"No problem. Laris out."

M1X-347's sun crept slowly across the sky, inexorably ticking away the remainder of the afternoon. A breeze ruffled the grass, rippling the long stalks as if they were the surface of a sea. Upon reaching the field's edge, Sergeant Bates found most of his team, including the extra marines he'd appropriated, waiting in the tree line. His black eyes flicked from face to face, performing a quick headcount. Lieutenant Geerman was the only one missing, (aside from Corde and Laris). It made sense. The Lieutenant had had the farthest to travel. Bates tapped his radio.

"Bates to Geerman. Where are you, Lieutenant?"

"Here sir!" Panting, Lieutenant Geerman emerged from the underbrush.

Bates tapped his radio again, this time contacting Private Laris and Dr. Corde. "This is Sergeant Bates. What's your status?"

"We're near the source of the signal," Laris replied. "Dr. Corde thinks it's just on the other side of this ridge."

Sergeant Bates nodded and struck off into the forest. "Good. We're on our way. Remember. Don't go near it until we reach you. I want—" Muffled cursing cut him off. He heard the sound of sticks cracking. "What was that?"

"Holy crap," Private Laris breathed.

"Report, Private!" Bates and his team quickened their pace.

Deep in the forest, atop the ridge, Laris peered down at a moss-covered structure with excitement, "We've found the source of the signal, Sir! I think it's—"

Dr. Corde cut her off, "Think nothing! I KNOW what it is! I read Major Sheppard's reports. But why here? And what the Hell is it for?"

Three miles away, Bates ground his teeth in frustration.

"Specifics, Doctor!"

-------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile…

In Atlantis's central tower, Major Sheppard followed Dr. Weir past the Gateroom's control consoles and into the short hallway leading to her office. He smiled mischievously, glancing at the small glass-topped table that'd appeared by her door last night. A tall, one-liter jar refracted light onto the oval surface. It was a third full of amber beads. Scientists from Rodney's trawling team had been periodically visiting the Gateroom, adding to it all morning. The glimmering orange was a pleasant contrast against the subdued grays and tans of the Ancient architecture.

It actually looked stylish.

Of course, the clumsily scrawled, 'Give a Penny, Take a Penny,' sign that Sheppard had hastily taped to it earlier was a bit gauche, but… Hey.

"So…" Dr. Weir sidled to her desk as Sheppard shut the door, "Our prisoner is done examining the artifacts?"

"You could say that." Holding up the can-openers, Major Sheppard gingerly handed them to her. "It was more like he couldn't get rid of them fast enough."

"Really?" Elizabeth took the artifacts with a raised eyebrow. "That's an about face. When I left the holding cell, he couldn't get enough of them…"

Atlantis's military leader shrugged. "Yeah, well… Mind control devices tend to have a repellant effect on people. Wraith included."

The eyebrow lifted higher, "Mind control?"

"Yup," Sheppard pointed at the finger guards, "According to Steve, they're broadcasting a telepathic signal designed to attract wraith."

Frowning, Dr. Weir set the artifacts on her desk. The pineapple-leafed hive-mark glinted sinisterly as they rocked slightly. "Did he say why?"

"He thinks they're low on power." Sheppard explained how the living tools survived by feeding on their users. "When you brought them down, Steve decided it would be a good idea to telepathically probe them. They sensed his presence—"

"And thought he looked yummy…" Elizabeth stared at the finger guards thoughtfully. "A telepathic lure… Makes sense."

"In a creepy, mind control sort of way."

"Well, given the wraiths' psychic abilities, it's not surprising that they'd develop telepathic traps. I'd imagine such mental compulsions are common."

Sheppard shook his head. "I'm not so sure. Steve seemed disturbed by it. Fascinated, but disturbed. I think the idea of being manipulated seriously rattled him."

Elizabeth cocked her head, "Rattled? In what way?"

"A generally creeped out sort of way. I can pull the tapes if you like."

"That won't be necessary." Turning, Dr. Weir propped her arms on her desk, "I'll take your word for it. Did the prisoner learn anything else about them?"

"No. However, he does send his apologies."

Elizabeth gave a surprised laugh, "His apologies?"

"Yes," Sheppard smiled cutely, acknowledging the extraordinariness of his message, "Steve realizes he was out of line. He says his behavior was influenced and asked me to assure you that," he paused, wanting to quote the wraith correctly, "his 'display of shameless begging' won't be repeated." The Major raised an eyebrow, "Basically, he claimed the can openers made him do it."

Dr. Weir smiled wryly. "That's a new excuse."

"I liked it."

Elizabeth's radio crackled. "Control to Dr. Weir."

She tapped her earpiece. "Go ahead, Peter."

"SGA-2 just checked in again. They found the source of the energy readings."

Sheppard leaned forward to listen, "Energy readings…?" He'd been in the holding cell when Bates reported the signals earlier…

"Have they identified it yet?" Dr. Weir asked.

"Yes," Peter Grodin answered, "According to Sergeant Bates, the energy is emanating from an abandoned wraith base. He is preparing to make an incursion."

Striding quickly from the room, Sheppard joined Grodin at the Gateroom's communication console. "Is he sure it's abandoned?" he demanded.

Peter nodded, "No movement in the area. And no life signs detected."

"They don't show up as life signs if they're hibernating."

"I reminded the Sergeant of that. His first priority is a visual sweep of the interior to locate any hibernation cells. They have two detector's with them."

Sheppard remembered the rumors about the nocturnal beasts, "And extra support personnel in case of attack…" They should be adequately prepared… But, just in case. He tapped his radio. "Lieutenant Cadman, this is Major Sheppard. You're on standby. Grab a pilot with the ATA gene and assemble your squad in the Jumper Bay. Do it ASAP. Sergeant Bates may need an extraction."

"Understood, Sir. We'll be ready in five. Cadman out."

That should do it… Sheppard glanced at Peter. "When's he checking in next?"

"He asked me to dial every five minutes."

Sheppard nodded appreciatively. Bates knew how to cover his bases. "Keep that schedule. On his next call, patch me in."

"Understood, Major. His line will be routed to your radio."

"Thank you, Doctor." Turning on his heel, Sheppard returned to Weir's office. She looked up at his approach. "Well," he announced, "this will be interesting."

"I'm sure," Elizabeth murmured. "An abandoned wraith base…"

"Hopefully it actually IS abandoned."

"Sergeant Bates usually exercises sound judgment."

The image of Teyla's necklace, with its wraith transmitter, flashed in his mind. "Yes he does," Sheppard agreed. "I'm sure this'll go fine."

Dr. Weir smiled wryly, "Let's hope you didn't just jinx them."

Sheppard winced theatrically and changed the subject. "So…" he looked pointedly at the can openers, "What're your plans for the living lures?"

Light gleamed on the shorter tool's crescent razor as Elizabeth pulled it towards her. "I haven't decided yet. I was thinking of sending them to Biology. Carson's been badgering me ever since I told him they were organic."

"He'll have to fight Rodney for them," Sheppard warned. "Now that they're broadcasting telepathic signals, he'll want to run 'em through the scanners again."

"Good point. Maybe I should have them draw straws."

"There's always Rock, Paper, Scissors."

They stared at the glistening tools in amused silence for a moment. Then… "I'll let Rodney decide. He IS head of the Science Department."

"Yeah," Sheppard nodded sagely, "He'd end up with them anyway."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "You think so?"

"Sure. See, Rodn—"

Sheppard's radio crackled, "Control to Major Sheppard. I'm about to contact Sergeant Bates. Dialing M1X-347 now." A short pause. "Wormhole established."

Turning, Sheppard listened to Grodin's voice while he watched the Stargate through the glass wall. Dr. Weir got up and stood beside him.

"Atlantis Base to SGA-2. Do you copy?"

Bates's reply was loud and clear, "We copy, Atlantis Base."

"Excellent. What's your status?"

"So far, so good. Everything's quiet here."

Weir and Sheppard shared relieved looks. The Major tapped his earpiece. "Sergeant, this is Sheppard. Have you found the signal source?"

"Yes, Major. The energy is coming from a single pedestal."

"Any sign of wraith?"

"Negative. We've visually scoured the entire base."

"That was fast," Elizabeth murmured.

"It's much smaller than we thought. Three rooms. No signs of recent habitation."

"You're sure about that?" Sheppard asked, frowning.

"Positive," Bates replied. "This place is dead. Literally. The pedestal's the only thing still alive."

Dr. Weir joined the channel, "Describe this pedestal."

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm looking at it now. It's about waist high. Top's two feet across. Has a pair of touch pads on its surface. We think it's a computer console."

"A computer console?" Sheppard glanced at Elizabeth. Atlantis hadn't had the opportunity to closely examine that level of working wraith tech yet…

"Yes, Sir. We're almost done sweeping the surrounding area. If it checks out clean, I'd like to return tomorrow with a full science team."

"At the moment, that's a very real possibility," Dr. Weir smiled widely. "Do you have anything else to report?"

"Nothing that can't wait for a regular debriefing, Ma'am."

"Then I'll look forward to it. Keep up the good work, Sergeant."

"We'll do our best. SGA-2 out."

As their radios crackled into silence, Major Sheppard and Dr. Weir stared at each other. Possibilities filled the air with excitement. This could be a break through.

Elizabeth's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I don't know," Sheppard quipped, clasping his hands behind his head. "Are you thinking Bates found a scientific key guaranteed to make Rodney's day by unlocking the secrets of life, death, and everything wraith in the universe?"

"Actually, I was thinking I should give the organic tools to Carson," Dr. Weir grinned. "Rodney will be too busy examining this to bother with them."

"That's okay," Sheppard shrugged. "I wasn't thinking that either."

She raised an eyebrow. "Then what WERE you thinking?"

The Major sobered, leaning forward seriously. "I was thinking," he said, "that this might be a good opportunity to see how committed Steve is to cooperating with us."

Dr. Weir frowned thoughtfully.

Seeing the notion wasn't immediately rejected, Sheppard pressed on, "He could show Rodney how to interface with wraith technology. He could translate—"

"You want to take a wraith prisoner off-world."

"We could discover the purpose of that base a lot faster with Steve's help."

Elizabeth regarded her military commander sternly. "Or he could sabotage it."

"Not if we take precautions," Sheppard refuted.

Silence settled over the office again. Blue eyes stared into brown, both willing the other to see their point. An unspoken warning hung heavily about them. If the prisoner made and succeeded in an escape attempt… They would lose the glove.

Along with who knew what else…

"We'll talk about this later," Dr. Weir finally said. "After the debriefing."

Major Sheppard nodded. That was good enough for him. For now.

-------------------------------------------------

A few hours later…

"How long has he been like this?"

The marine in charge of the holding cell's current guard shift shrugged unconcernedly. "Since a few minutes after your visit, Sir."

Frowning, Sheppard crossed his arms and peered into the cage. The debriefing had been brief and concise. The conversation afterwards had been neither, but he HAD obtained a green light for evaluating the prisoner's response to the idea. Unfortunately, evaluating a response required that a response existed in the first place. And, for the moment, the prisoner was decidedly unresponsive. To anything.

"He hasn't moved a muscle, Sir."

"Bizarre…" It certainly put a crimp in his plans… "Why now?"

The marine shrugged again, "No clue, Sir."

Major Sheppard cocked his head, observing quietly for a while. Steve was lying on the cell floor, curled loosely on his side, olive eyes closed. The form-fitting chest of his coat accentuated the slight motion of his breathing. A deep, silent, rise and fall, so slow as to be almost imperceptible… The wraith was… Asleep…

Or so it seemed… Tugging open a vest pocket, Sheppard pulled out his life-signs detector. A light blinked a couple meters in front of his position.

Nope. Not hibernating…

But then why hadn't he stirred yet? Every other time Sheppard had visited, the wraith had roused immediately. Almost as if he sensed the Major's presence. The softest sounds woke him. And Sheppard had never seen Steve lying down either, (other than when he was stunned, of course). He usually slept sitting up.

Now he was prone, exposing himself to unobserved approach on three sides. A complete one-eighty to his normally wary dozing posture…

It wasn't like Sheppard was trying to keep a low profile, here. Heck, he wasn't even whispering…

Steve really should've woken up by now.

Unless…

Frown deepening, Major Sheppard circled the cage, keeping his eyes on the captive's face. The pale visage didn't so much as twitch. He stopped by the bars nearest Steve's head. Still no response. He crouched, angling for a better view… Just how much sleep DID wraith need? An amount similar to humans? Less? More?… Carson hadn't had a chance to study that yet. And Steve had seemed tired earlier.

But Sheppard was applying human standards there… Steve was wraith. What meant one thing in a human, could mean something very different in their captive.

Eyes narrowing, Sheppard sat back on his heels and reviewed their earlier conversation. The wraith had been worried about losing concentration. He'd looked tired. He'd fallen into an obvious verbal trap, and he'd said the telepathic signal was, "distracting." He'd also lost control, displaying unease, resignation, and guilt. Signs of weakness that, up until now, he'd been extremely averse to revealing…

Sheppard scratched his chin, eyeing the sleeping wraith. His thoughts turned to the living finger guards. Just how distracting WAS their telepathic signal…?

He tapped his earpiece. "Teyla, this is Sheppard."

"What is it, Major?"

Making no effort to speak quietly, he asked, "You know how you said you can tell when the prisoner is sleeping?"

A short silence, "Yes…" she answered slowly, "He is sleeping now."

"I can see that." So the wraith wasn't faking… Sheppard cleared his throat, "Out of curiosity, Teyla, when was the last time you sensed Steve sleeping?"

Up in Atlantis's gym, Teyla Emmagen froze in the middle of packing her Banta sticks away. "I have not been keeping track of him that closely, Major."

"That's okay. All I want is a guess."

"Very well." Sheppard could practically hear the Athosian frown, "I cannot vouch for when I, myself, am asleep, but…" a pensive pause, "I would say several days. Perhaps a short nap, here and there, but nothing prolonged or deep."

"Several days?" That was long…

"Yes."

"How does three sound?"

Teyla was quiet a moment. Then… "Three sounds about right."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. His theory was looking likely…

"May I ask the significance of that number?"

"One more question first," Sheppard idly tapped the bars. Steve didn't stir. "How often did he sleep before three days ago?"

In the gym, Teyla resumed putting her sticks away. "A few times every day. Usually two or three hours at a time. It lessened slightly after you gave him the glove."

"I thought you weren't keeping track of him?"

"Not specifically. However, I was initially curious as to what I was sensing. I was able to identify the feeling by matching it to the tapes Dr. Weir lent me."

"I see," Sheppard mused. The unexpected benefits of curiosity…

"And the significance of your number, Major?"

Sheppard's fingers idly tapped the bars again. Still no response. "Three days is how long Dr. Weir left the organic tools down here with him."

Teyla was puzzled, "You think they were keeping him awake?"

The Major shrugged, "It's a possibility." An extremely likely one. "Thank you for your help, Teyla. Your observations are appreciated."

"You are welcome, Major."

"Sheppard out." The radio crackled into silence.

Within the cage, the wraith continued his rhythmic, nearly imperceptible breathing. Sheppard was assailed by an unexpected stab of guilt. Apparently, 'looking tired,' was wraith for, 'on the verge of exhaustion.' He silently cursed the prisoner. Sleep deprivation also fell into the category of cruel and unusual punishment. Sheppard would've never knowingly subjected the wraith to it. But, dammit, Steve should've said something! He could've complained to someone OTHER than Sheppard! Like Ford. Or Bates. Or any of the other guards. They would've passed his message on.

But it would've meant admitting weakness to a subordinate…

Damn the wraith's egocentric stubbornness!

Annoyed and disappointed, Sheppard let go of the bars and pulled himself to his feet, taking a last look at the sleeping captive. From this angle Steve's hair seemed to fan slightly across the floor behind him, emphasizing the loose curl of his body. An ivory splash nestled, in streaking contrast, at the base of a long, black comma…

Major Sheppard turned away, skirted the cell, and crossed to the alcove.

He wouldn't wake Steve now. What was done, was done. The wraith needed rest, and M1X-347's night cycle was long, an astonishing 53.5 hours. That was two days before they could return. Plenty of time for sleep. Plenty of time for debate. And plenty of time for convincing Elizabeth and Rodney to let Steve come. (He was pretty sure Steve would agree to help. All it took was the right motivation…)

Heck, Sheppard could probably squeeze in a mission or two. The food from Earth was running low, but they couldn't replenish it without a ZPM. Atlantis needed Pegasus trading partners. Lips pursing, Sheppard headed upstairs. He distinctly remembered Teyla and Elizabeth discussing a possible source for Tava beans…

-------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile…

Elsewhere in the central tower, a few floors below Atlantis's night-dimmed Gateroom, the sharp clatter of persistent tapping echoed in an empty corridor. A weak finger of light issued from an open doorway. Shadows flickered across walls, shifting with the erratic clacking, flitting across banks of quietly whirring servers. LEDs blinked along shelves, changing rows of red, green, orange, and yellow. Tiny stars mapping Atlantis's computer usage. Most of the powerful processors signaled readiness. A few hummed softly, their absent users having programmed them to run throughout the night.

One set, (the most powerful), thrummed loudly in response to the tapping. Cables snaked from its back, arching from machine to machine before disappearing into the black depths of a gaping access panel. Others snaked from its front, coiling and splitting on their way to the input/output ports of the Physics Department's numerous laptops.

Unsurprisingly, given the late hour, only one of those laptops was active.

Alone in Atlantis's computer lab, Dr. Rodney McKay perched on a stool, engrossed in the data scrolling across the flat-screened monitor in front of him. A solitary desk lamp shone doggedly, staving off the night with a bubble of crisp, white light. A full mug and a half-empty coffee pot rested on a counter nearby.

"Huh…"

His right hand danced across the keyboard. The source of the tapping noise…

"…That's odd…"

His left held a not-quite-bursting ham sandwich. That sandwich was currently forgotten, frozen halfway to the puzzled scientist's mouth.

Rodney snorted and frowned thoughtfully. "Okay, how about this…?"

A flurry of tapping. Then…

"Damn." He leaned closer, squinting at the screen. Another dead end. Perhaps a different tactic. "Gonna be tough, are ya? Well, we'll just see about that!" Never challenge a genius. Especially one with a pot of dark roast coffee. "Take this!"

Another flurry of one-handed typing.

The computer beeped.

"Dammit!" Rolling his shoulders, Rodney leaned back. This was getting ridiculous. He glared at the access panel, envisioning the tangle of crystal fibers within. Those fibers led to the heart of Atlantis's central processors. "You're determined to thwart me on this." He grinned and shook a finger at the contrary city, proclaiming, "You won't succeed, my friend. For I am the Resident Genius. And all Resident Geniuses know, there's more than one way to search a security-riddled database."

Remembering his sandwich, he shoved it into his mouth and continued typing.

Dr. McKay had been fighting with Atlantis's database all night. The battle had begun innocently, with a request to view the city's files on M1X-347. A low-level security block had stalled him, but Rodney had bypassed that easily, having seen it's like many times before. His reward was a few details on the planet's atmosphere.

Fascinating stuff. Really fascinating. Especially considering M1X-347's horrendously long night cycle…

No mention of abandoned wraith bases, though.

Disappointed, Dr. McKay had shut everything down and returned to his quarters, intending to go to bed. Sadly, sleep had eluded him. Mind racing with theories and ideas for tackling Bates's wraith pedestal, Rodney had found himself back in the Physics lab, needing something useful to do. Something not involving beads and gloppy fish guts. He'd settled for tweaking the expedition's crystal interface and improving the program they were using to search Atlantis's database. That had gone well.

Searching for information on the flooded laboratory had not.

Apparently the database was smart enough to both recognize new interfaces and apply its original security codes to programs running on foreign operating systems. Even the complicated, high-level security codes…

How brilliantly inconvenient.

And how challenging!

And yet… At the same time… WHY?!!

"What the Hell!" Speaking around a mouthful of bread and ham, Rodney dropped his sandwich on a plate by his elbow and grabbed his mug. "This is ridiculous! It can't be THAT bad!" He took a swig of the cold coffee and twisted on his stool, glaring at the access panel once more. "You just hate me tonight, don't ya?"

The processors stacked by the panel hummed, laboriously filtering Atlantis's crystal energy as they converted it into familiar patterns of electric bytes.

"Yeah, well. That's what I thought you'd say." Muttering, Rodney sloshed his coffee down and attacked the keyboard. This time, using both hands. "Just wait, my friend. You haven't seen anything yet. Anything. Ya hear?"

Determined tapping filled the darkened lab for a while. Then…

"Where the Hell did that come from!!!?" McKay peered at the screen as data poured across it, scrolling almost too fast to follow. "What IS that, anyway?" A flurry of clacking followed by annoyed grumbling. "You can't be serious. There shouldn't BE anymore of those! That was the last one. This doesn't exist, Dammit!"

Talk about security. Geez…

Rodney got up and refilled his coffee mug. Then he leaned against an empty worktable and pondered the interface, cradling the scalding drink in his hands. The expedition's ability to read ancient computers was woefully incomplete. They could use them. They could manipulate them. Heck, they could even alter them.

But they did so slowly. Painstakingly.

The amount of information Atlantis contained was astronomical, but they could only use a small portion at any given time. Earth processors just weren't powerful enough to handle it. Couple that with incredibly complex programming, (courtesy of the ancients), and security light years beyond anything McKay had ever seen, and it was a wonder they could use as many of Atlantis's systems as they did.

Give him another month. Maybe two.

…

Rodney took a sip of java.

…

Okay, maybe a year…

A second sip… The point was, eventually the database would be entirely catalogued. And eventually he'd figure out how to bypass the numerous security levels. Until then, though, analyzing files was done on a case-by-case basis. For example: Searching for the purpose of a specific lab during a specific period of time.

McKay stared at the waiting monitor. Cursors blinked, mockingly.

Hacking files was handled in a similar, prioritized fashion… Lips pursing thoughtfully, Rodney perched on his stool and absently thunked his coffee mug down. Rote repetition of his usual tricks, (ie. mimicking security clearance and circumventing access codes), wasn't working here. He needed a fresh angle. Maybe literally.

Well, metaphorically literally, anyway. (If that was possible.)

He resumed typing.

Whatever had been going on in that lab was seriously secret. The security surrounding it was nuts. A total information blackout. No cracks. No leaks. Not a hint of a trail. He'd never encountered a wipeout so thoroughly implemented before.

He couldn't even find the lab's initial equipment inventory.

"Alright, you stubborn beast. Let's try something new." Rubbing his hands gleefully, Rodney grabbed his sandwich, tore a quick bite off, and began hacking furiously. He had a few sideways approaches left up his sleeves…

Persistent tapping echoed in the Physics Department's night-darkened corridor once more. The scientist was on the hunt. Stalking data. Cornering it. If he couldn't hack a wraith pedestal, this was the next best thing. He'd keep it up 'til the coffee ran out. Oh, yeahhh. And there was still a quarter pot!

"I am Genius. Hear me roar!"

*Beep*

"Oookaay… Maybe not."

Mew.

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Thank you for reading! Please review! Again, things I'm working on specifically are: 1. Maintaining a Season 1 feel in the flashback chapters. 2. Keeping the regulars in character.