The Pegasus Tango

by Meloku

An AU, Save Steve fic. An ancient Atlantian lab yields an interesting artifact while Carson is collaborating with the Hoffans. Rodney and Sheppard decide to try it on their wraith prisoner. Steve/OC/team. Warning: flashbacks and wraith psych exploration

16. Chapter 15: Excursion Part 3

Alas, my vow to not let the holiday season delay updating didn't pan out...

However, as with a few months ago, I will attempt to redeem myself by pairing this ridiculously long wait with an equally ridiculously long chapter. (I'm serious. This beast puts all the others to shame, even Excursion-Part One. It's over twenty thousand words all by itself...)

Now re-vamped as of 1-21-10.

I haven't changed anything huge, or cut anything significant, (though there are a few bits I'm waffling on...), but I did smooth a bunch of the places I felt were rough in this chapter's first posting. Any comments anyone has on places that still feel awkward or out of place would be greatly appreciated.

And now, without further ado, I present for your reading pleasure...

The BEAST! Version 1.1 :)

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 Fifteen: Excursion – Part Three

3 years, 47 and ½ weeks earlier

Clouds swirled slowly above the ancient city-ship of Atlantis, lazily drifting across a horizon-long expanse of mid-morning sky. Shadows slipped over the rolling ocean that surrounded her, dappling the seawater gently lapping at her piers with alternating splashes of sunny turquoise and deep sapphire. Warm breezes flitted among her spires, dancing past stain-glass windows and tickling the multi-hued alloys of her outer walls. One such breeze swept around the central control tower and headed East, skimming walkways and balconies as it swooped towards the edge of the city.

Nearing the glint of the ocean, it shot up, sucked into a draft between two spires, and crested a walkway, sliding over the smooth surface of a glass-enclosed stairwell. Dislodged by the vibrations of booted feet descending the metal steps within, it slipped down again and raced along a black-splotched wall before finally soaring out to sea, chased by the crisp sounds of crinkly, dark material rustling in its wake.

Inside the breeze-touched hallway, Dr. Zelenka muttered something in Czech and pulled a cord tight, stretching the last tarp so it lay flush against a damaged window frame. The taut material rippled as he did so, producing a deep flapping noise.

"What was that?" Further down the corridor, Major Sheppard poked his head around a door and looked expectantly at the frazzle-haired scientist.

Dr. Zelenka glanced at him with a grimace and tied the cord off. "I say, I do not like having to close these when not raining."

Sheppard shrugged and backed out of the room, turning a circle as he took in his newly battened-down surroundings, "Yeah, well… Sergeant Bates wants it sealed off…"

Chuckling humorlessly, Zelenka checked the knots to make sure they were secure, "Typical security. He thinks our wraith guest will take five story swim."

The Major gave a short laugh, "I think it's unlikely too. But hey. What Bates wants, Bates gets," he shrugged nonchalantly, "Today, anyway."

Satisfied the tarp would stay, Dr. Zelenka paced the width of the hallway and nervously wrung his hands, staring at the damaged walls, "That man is paranoid."

"He's paid to be." Noting the physicist's uneasiness, Sheppard grinned reassuringly, "C'mon, it's not that bad." He gestured to the long line of sun-filled windows, vastly outnumbering the dots of black tarp, "You've got plenty of light, still."

Zelenka stopped pacing, "The light is not problem." His thinning hair flopped in a sharp negative as he scanned the inner wall, waving at a rust-stained grill near the ceiling, "Without working ventilation in this area, closing everything up makes overpowering fish smell come back."

"It does?" Sheppard looked around in surprise. Both the hallway and the room he'd just been in were spotless, "But everything's so clean…?"

"I know," Zelenka's nose wrinkled expressively, "We have only cleared the lab's outer sections. Smell comes from further in," an absent shrug, "Is shame, really…"

Major Sheppard agreed. He hadn't visited the flooded lab in a while, but he'd been hoping, given the distinct lack of sand and fish stink that'd greeted his arrival, that Dr. McKay's bead crews had managed to clean the place up. "How fast does it build?"

"Very fast," Dr. Zelenka was wringing his hands again, "This entire sector will smell like fish guts soon. Will take days to air out."

Sheppard winced, "Sorry 'bout that."

"Not your fault," the physicist bit his lip anxiously for a moment. Then… "Do you think it will bother our guest? Dr. Corde says he has, uhhh," he rubbed a thumb rapidly and distractedly across his fingers, searching for the correct English words, "um, uhh… Highly developed sense of smell?"

"Does he, now?" Sheppard thought back. He hadn't seen Steve sniffing the wraith facility's entrance, but he'd heard about it when he debriefed his marines. And Dr. Corde was convinced Steve had smelled the pink goo from all the way outside. "Well, if that's true, he's just gonna have to suck it up and deal."

"It's not like we can DO anything," Zelenka muttered, "At this point…"

"Not a thing," Sheppard agreed. Bates and the wraith were already on their way.

"Half the places we're showing him are still sand covered…"

"We'll take him to the showers before putting him back in his cell."

The Czech was pacing again, "Probably a good idea. I would not want my personal quarters smelling like this pl—"

"Radek," Major Sheppard caught Dr. Zelenka's arm, forcefully stopping his nervous fidgeting, "It's going to be all right. Steve's got strict instructions to be good. He wants to be allowed back in the future. He'll behave himself."

Zelenka threw his hands up, at a loss, "I KNOW, but—"

"Sergeant Bates to Major Sheppard."

Raising an eyebrow at the anxious scientist, Sheppard tapped his earpiece. "Sheppard here."

"We've almost reached your position. I assume you're ready for us?"

"Just finished sealing the last hallway."

"Good," the reply was clipped, "We'll see you in a few. Bates out."

A string of incomprehensible Czech filled the corridor as Sheppard's radio crackled off. Dr. Zelenka smoothed his shirt and shoved at his stringy hair, visibly struggling to compose himself. "I can't do this. Rodney should be here."

"It'll be all right," Sheppard firmly repeated.

"I've never met an alien before."

"There's a first time for everything."

Zelenka deliberately forced his hands to his sides, "Does it have to be now?"

Watching the uncomfortable man, Sheppard shrugged with sympathetic amusement, "Might as well get it over with."

"Maybe Dr. Sheckle—"

The muffled thudding of boots echoing in the adjacent stairwell stifled his complaints. Gulping, Dr. Zelenka rigidly turned to face the nearest doors. Sheppard smiled cockily and moved to stand behind him, offering silent support.

After a few moments, the footsteps stopped.

A tense second later, the ancient doors swooshed open.

Sergeant Bates strode into the corridor, followed by the organized clatter of today's security escort. Six marines in full gear, including Private's Sheere and Laris, flanked the lean, confidently striding form of their wraith prisoner. They marched forward, coming to a crisp halt two yards from their nervous, open-mouthed, guide.

Always serious, Bates straightened to attention, "Major Sheppard."

Sheppard nodded, "Sergeant." Then he looked past the Security Chief, to his charge. Turning his face away, Steve ignored him, glancing about the sunny, window-walled hall with feigned disinterest. Unfazed, Sheppard crossed his arms and prepared to wait. At the cheeky movement, the oval-pupiled eyes shot towards him.

The Major's tone was just short of flip, "Steve."

Snorting sharply, the wraith faced him fully and cocked his head, sliding his gaze to Dr. Zelenka. His lips drew back with a hiss, "Where is Dr. McKay?"

Sheppard raised an eyebrow, "Dr. McKay declined to join us on this tour." Seeing Steve's eyes widen, he clapped Zelenka on the shoulder and added, "This is Dr. Zelenka. He'll be showing us around today."

The wraith lifted his chin, studying the Czech intently.

Snapping his mouth shut, Zelenka tore his gaze from the shark-like teeth and jerked his hand in a timid wave, hesitantly meeting the appraising stare. "Hi."

Steve inhaled deeply. Then narrowed his eyes and inclined his head slightly, "Dr. Zelenka…." With a slow blink, the olive gaze flicked back to Sheppard, "This substitution is acceptable."

Of course it was… "Good. Glad ya like him," Sheppard turned to Sergeant Bates, "All righty then. Let's get started."

"Yes, Sir." Bates fixed the wraith with a steely glare, "Remember. You're here to see and listen. Keep your hands inside the perimeter."

Steve snorted disdainfully at him, "I will touch only what I am allowed."

"See that you do," ignoring the annoyed hiss that followed his words, Sergeant Bates barked an order to move out and fell into step behind Sheppard, who prodded Radek into motion with a whispered, "Psssst, time to go."

"Oh! Right," startled, Dr. Zelenka hastily started down the corridor. "The, uh, lab is this way…" Looking anywhere but at the wraith, he quickened his pace to a brisk walk and began nervously pointing stuff out. "As you can see, this area sustained severe water damage," his fingers fluttered at a ventilation grate, "Even the ancient, uh, metal alloys… Are extensively corrupted."

No longer feigning disinterest, Steve peered this way and that, politely surveying the most inane details provided.

"The, uh, gaps in the wall show traces of electrical burn."

Steve's pale face obligingly swung towards the nearest tarp-covered crack.

"We believe they were created during the initial short that collapsed the shield."

"A logical conclusion…"

At the multi-tonal murmur, Zelenka glanced back. Steve blinked at him. The physicist's mouth twitched in a brief, uncomfortable grin, "Uh, yes… Logical."

Narrowing his eyes, the wraith resumed his scrutiny of the tarps.

Major Sheppard noted the brief exchange with amusement. It was obviously a passive, (and clumsy), attempt to put their guide at ease. A good sign. It meant their captive's best behavior wasn't exclusively reserved for Carson…

"These particular rooms we're passing, aren't actually part of the lab we're excavating. They were merely… Flooded by association." Reaching the end of the corridor, they descended a flight of steps and entered another tarp-dotted hallway. "These rooms, however," continued Zelenka, "were."

A satisfied hiss filled the air, and Steve's polite scrutiny turned acute.

"Unfortunately, we have not the foggiest what they were doing in them."

Hearing a soft chuff, Sheppard turned to see the wraith's brow delicately furrowing in confusion. "He means, we don't know."

A short silence, in which the alien stared thoughtfully at nothing. Then… "Ahhhh… Not even an unclear idea. I understand the expression, now."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow, but declined to comment on Steve's linguistic enlightenment. He and the security escort followed Dr. Zelenka into one of the rooms branching off the corridor. It contained a pair of gutted consoles framed by piles of carefully sorted fiberglass filaments and rusty wires. Sheppard recognized scorched crystal trays laid out on the lab counter that ran the length of the room's pentagonal walls.

Zelenka watched nervously as Steve stopped within his circle of guards and slowly turned a 360, taking in the damage with an increasingly disgusted sneer.

"Nothing in this room, or any others on this level, works."

A sharp snort, "The local data storage devices…?"

"All fatally corroded. Not even a byte remains."

"And there is no way to find out what these machines were used for?"

"Uh… Not yet." Zelenka glanced at the counter, "However—"

The wraith's long hair fanned as he spun to face the physicist, attracted by the unexpectedly optimistic tone.

"—we did manage to salvage most of the crystal circuits." Warming to the topic, Dr. Zelenka crossed to one of the crystal trays. He pulled out a small plastic bag. Thin crystal circuit boards, roughly the size of playing cards, clinked within it.

Steve cocked his head and moved closer, stopping at the edge of his escort's security perimeter. "Crystal circuitsss…"

"Yes," nodding Zelenka held the bag up, "It is our hope that we will discover equipment of similar models," he gestured to the consoles, "in other parts of the city. When that happens, we will replace the working devices' crystals with these. By analyzing how these circuits are configured, we should be able—"

"To deduce the purposes of the devices they were originally designed for." Narrowing his eyes at his nearest guard, Steve conspicuously wrapped his arms over his leather-clad stomach and leaned forward, peering at the dangling bag with interest.

Watching the wraith's face poke out over Private Laris's shoulder, beyond the security perimeter, Sergeant Bates frowned disapprovingly.

Beside him, Major Sheppard noted the borderline glower and the captive's carefully non-threatening movements with concealed amusement… And a healthy dose of exasperation. He was NOT gonna spend this entire tour tiptoeing around the damn tulips! Gripped by a sudden urge to shake things up, Sheppard sidled over to Zelenka and said, "Gimme that." Snatching the bag, he tossed it to the wraith.

Crystals clinked and the beads on Steve's wrist glimmered as his black-gloved feeding hand darted deftly out to catch it. Olive irises snapped warily to Sheppard's face.

"Ya got thirty seconds."

With a soft snort, Steve nodded slightly and began examining the transparent circuits, ivory hair rippling with his motions.

As the wraith pried the bag open, Sergeant Bates's glower swung towards his superior. Sheppard blinked innocently as Steve pulled a crystal out.

"What? He's not gonna hurt 'em."

Inhaling deeply, Steve lifted the circuit, running the orifices on his cheeks past it.

"He wants to know what's on 'em as much as we do." Bates's glower deepened, and Sheppard sighed, "He's not gonna palm 'em either."

Exhaling with a tooth-baring hiss, the wraith dropped the crystal back into the bag, pressed the seal closed, and offered it to Private Laris. "These items smell like fish."

Private Laris took the bag and passed it to Major Sheppard.

"Everything down here smells like fish," Sheppard quipped. He handed the baggie to Zelenka, who did a quick circuit count and replaced it in the tray. "Anything else of note here, Radek?"

Dr. Zelenka glanced uncertainly at the displeased Security Chief before forcing his attention to the question. "Uhh, no, actually… Might as well continue," he returned to the door, beckoning for everyone to follow, "This way."

Footsteps echoed hollowly in the cleared out building as they reentered the corridor and headed deeper into the damaged complex. A soft hiss joined their footfalls as Zelenka walked by several rooms without stopping. Steve's slim form slowed…

"Move along!" Sergeant Bates barked.

Ignoring the order with a disdainful snort, Steve stared at Sheppard, who'd turned to see what the disturbance was. "These rooms contain nothing of interest?"

Dr. Zelenka paused, waiting for the sluggish procession to catch up, "No. They're in the same state as the first room. It is, uhh… Representative of these levels. I see no reason to waste time going into each—" cutting off, the Czech stopped, his expression brightening in revelation. He looked to the wraith, "Unless you can identify ancient devices by sight? If you possess that capability, it would be extremely useful—"

"No…" Dashing his guide's fledgling hopes, the wraith turned his face away, eyes narrowing with a softly expelled chuff, "Regretfully, I do not possess that knowledge. My experience with devices of the ancients is," with another chuff, his olive irises flicked back to Zelenka, "relatively limited…"

Intrigued, Zelenka thoughtfully touched his chin, "Relatively?"

Steve's alien visage turned directly towards him once more, "Among my brethren, there are…" he paused, as if not entirely committed to answering. When he continued, the word hissed from between warning teeth, "Specialissssts…"

Specialists. That was just great. Major Sheppard shared a meaningful glance with Sergeant Bates. Somewhere out there, in Pegasus, were wraith who spent their entire, virtually immortal lives, studying ancient technology. Why didn't that make Sheppard feel better? He stepped closer to the security escort.

"And have your 'specialists' gotten around the gene failsafe?"

Steve gave the Major a haughty look, clearly conveying how big an idiot Sheppard must be if he actually expected to receive an answer to that question.

Said idiot shrugged, "Can't blame me for trying."

A derisive snort, followed by a smirk, "I suppose not."

Riiighhht… Eyeing the wraith with deliberate suspicion, Sheppard turned to Zelenka. "Let's get on with this…"

Still rubbing his chin, Zelenka nodded absently, "Yes. The tour. This way."

They continued. At the corridor's end, they descended a flight of steps and reversed direction, passing beneath the area they'd recently left.

"This floor, and the next, are in same state as the ones above."

"Bummer," muttered Sheppard.

Zelenka proceeded along the new hall without stopping, "Yes. Big bummer."

"Let's pick the pace up, then," suggested Bates.

Reluctantly increasing his speed to a brisk stalk, Steve peered through the collectively dismissed doorways with a furrowed brow. Sheppard peered with him. The rooms were eerily similar. Rusted-gutted consoles, piles of sorted wreckage, scarred trays of carefully catalogued crystals… They could've been carbon copies of the first, except that the shapes of consoles and counter configurations differed. And some had larger piles of corroded components, and more scorched trays, than others…

Struck by a thought, Sheppard turned to Sergeant Bates as they neared the next stairway, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

The Security Chief gave a rueful chuckle, "I'm sure I have no idea, Sir. There's any number of things you could be thinking right now."

"I'm thinking there's a Hell of a lot of wrecked equipment down here." Having an aversion to smelling like fish, Major Sheppard had endeavored to avoid Rodney's bead-hunting excavations as much as possible. Being Atlantis's military commander, he'd succeeded. He'd heard the scope of the damage and recovery efforts from reports, but this was his first close-up look at them. It was more impressive than he'd expected.

Bates was shaking his head, "I wasn't thinking that, Sir."

Nodding, Sheppard frowned, "To require that much equipment, whatever they were doing had to be one Hell of a complex project."

"I'm sure it was, Sir."

"And trying to figure out a project that complex without any guidelines or supporting data to even set us on the right track…?" He glanced at Bates.

Starting down the stairs after Zelenka, the Security Chief was patiently silent.

"This is one Hell of an undertaking," Sheppard finally exclaimed, with mocking, yet earnestly subdued, dismay.

"You're only realizing that now, Sir?"

He waffled, "Well… No, not really. But it's the principle of the thing, ya see?"

Sergeant Bates shrugged, "If you say so, Sir."

"I do say so."

As they hit the bottom steps, reversing direction to again pass beneath the previous floor, Dr. Zelenka interjected, "The undertaking may not be as massive as it seems. We DO have some guidelines—"

"Oh, really?" Sheppard quipped.

"Yes. We have Dr. Sheckle's beads. And the glove," Zelenka shot an anxious look at Steve, "And, uh… Let's not forget the organic tools found near the stasis pod."

He had a point. But Sheppard wasn't ready to abandon nay-saying yet, "All valuable items which we don't dare try to take apart for reverse engineering."

"That is true," Zelenka admitted, still looking at Steve, "But we DO know what the final product is. That itself is a guideline."

Sheppard 'hmmmed' a moment. "I suppose I can give you that."

"And we have a general idea of who was working on i—" Cutting himself off, the physicist tore his gaze from the wraith, who was watching with rapt interest, and wrung his hands nervously, spinning towards Major Sheppard. "I'm sorry. Should we be having this conversation in front of the prisoner?"

Feigning surprise, Sheppard turned to said prisoner. Steve straightened and cocked his head, oval-pupiled eyes blinking innocently.

"I don't see why not. Why else would I bring it up?"

Opening his mouth, Zelenka quickly closed it again, at a loss.

"Look. He already knows we're clueless." Seeing Sergeant Bates frown, Sheppard traded his flip tone for a serious one, "I told Steve we don't know much about the glove last week. If he's gonna be tryin' to pry information out of us, he might as well know up front how little there is to get. It'll save everyone a lot of frustration in the future." His blue eyes skewered the wraith warningly, "Isn't that right, Steve?"

Steve studied his captor a moment. Then his eyes narrowed enigmatically, "If you say so," a short hiss, "Major Sheppard…"

Sheppard raised an eyebrow at the mimicry of Bates's recent reply. Was that a trace of skepticism in the chord-like voice? Somehow, he was getting the distinct impression he was being mocked. Or maybe humored was more accurate…

Damn, but it was hard to tell with the wraith!

Deciding to play along with… whatever had been implied, he flippantly raised his other eyebrow, "I DO say so." Let the wraith make what he wanted of that. 'Cause Sheppard sure as Hell didn't know what he'd meant.

Neither, apparently, did Steve. His olive eyes widened as quickly concealed confusion flickered across his face. A sharp, querulous chuff twitched past his lips.

Pleased that he'd managed to reciprocate the bafflement, Sheppard wagged his finger at the perplexed alien. "Exactly."

Dr. Zelenka cleared his throat, "Exactly what?"

"I'm sure I don't know," the Major emphatically stated.

"I see," fidgeting, the Czech glanced in the direction they'd been going, "In that case, perhaps we could continue?"

"What?" Looking ahead, Sheppard realized they'd reached the end of the corridor. They were standing near a doorway that led to the next stairs. "Right. Of course. Carrying on." He hadn't even realized he'd stopped…

A subtle wave of warm fish smell engulfed them as Zelenka led the way through the door and into the stairwell. Sergeant Bates shot the security escort a warning glare as the marines exchanged a sudden flurry of disgusted glances, and Major Sheppard grimaced and wrinkled his nose. A sharp inhalation and explosive chuff told everyone the decline in air quality hadn't been missed by their prisoner.

Sheppard looked over his shoulder as their footsteps echoed off the metal steps. The wraith was breathing shallowly through his mouth, with his lips drawn back as far as they could go. Like a cat that'd recently sniffed something unpleasant…

"Ya gonna be all right Steve?"

Hearing the mock-sincerity of his tone, Steve snorted, "I will adjust."

"'Cause it only gets worse from here."

An irritable growl rattled in the wraith's throat.

Sheppard hid a grin, "Just a friendly warning."

No response.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Dr. Zelenka's hesitant voice diffused the growing tension. "This door, here… It's different from the others."

Pointedly ignoring Major Sheppard, Steve watched as their guide stopped and indicated a damaged control box mounted by the doorframe. "It is larger," he hissed.

"Yes. The locking mechanism is unusually complex."

"Heightened security," muttered Sheppard. He peered appraisingly at the corroded controls. Instead of the usual three-crystal set-up, the panel appeared to have utilized five. There were two extra slots flanking the customary vertical line…

Zelenka nodded, "The extra security suggests that beyond this point is where really important research was being conducted. This is also the only entrance or exit providing access to the protected area—"

"A self-contained lab with restricted access," Sheppard mused.

"Correct. And, if I may be allowed to indulge in speculation—"

"Speculate away."

"—these two facts together lead us to suspect that the floors above, which we have just come through… Were support labs."

"Support labs?" Major Sheppard gazed up at the ceiling, as if scrutinizing their former surroundings through the floors, "What sort of support labs?"

The Czech shrugged, "Obviously, I cannot know exactly—"

"But you suspect—"

"—But I suspect they were involved in performing various tests and small-scale studies. Taking their orders from the restricted area's head researchers."

An approving hiss whispered among the airy supports of the fish-infused stairwell. "An efficient set up." No longer breathing through his mouth, the wraith tilted his face at Zelenka curiously, "What about the first level?"

"The first?"

Ivory hair rippled with a short nod, "Where we started…"

"Oh, there. Right. We, uh, believe that was a sort of, uh… Secondary support."

Sheppard frowned, "Secondary support?"

"Yes. Performing even simpler tasks than the others. Much lower security clearance. They probably had no idea what they were actually working on."

"And you suspect this… Why?"

Zelenka brightened, "Good question! Dr. McKay showed me his ultraviolet security block. Last night, while examining it, I was able to determine that it does not lock away all information on that level. There is a small, unlocked file."

Sheppard hadn't heard this yet, "What's in it?"

"A list of local resources."

"And… what's ON that list?" he prompted.

Zelenka looked momentarily uncomfortable, "Um… Generic lab support functions?" He shrugged apologetically, hastily adding, "Hence my—"

"Speculation that it contained lab support," Sheppard finished. "Not exactly enlightening reading, I take it?"

Their guide ruefully shook his head, "Unfortunately, no. But for this mystery, we on bead-hunting duty have adopted the motto, 'Any clue is a good clue.'"

"Can't argue there…"

An insistent, attention-seeking chuff pulled everyone's focus to the wraith.

Catching Dr. Zelenka's startled eye, Steve blinked once, slowly. "What…" he diverted his gaze to the damaged doorframe, "is 'bead-hunting' duty?"

Regaining the composure he'd lost when the olive irises skewered him, Zelenka smiled slightly and lifted a knowing finger, "I will show you. But first…" He patted the corroded control panel and walked quickly into the new hall, beckoning for Steve to follow, "First we must visit the stasis pod." Chuckling, Zelenka muttered something in Czech and shook his head, adding a quiet, English, "Am getting ahead of myself…"

---

Meanwhile…

"Just when I thought this couldn't get any weirder…" Arms crossed, Dr. Weir stared into the rescued hard-drive's intake tank with a mix of mild disgust and fascination. Seemingly overnight, the tentacle floating in its depths had developed a distinct ring of fleshy tissue along its severed edge. Looking up, she scanned the infirmary for the white, lab-coated form of Carson, "Have you seen this?"

Hearing her bemused inquiry, Dr. Beckett replaced the nutrient concentrates he was organizing on their shelf and made his way over to her. "Strange, isn' it?" He stopped on the other side of the Plexiglas cube and joined her in surveying its contents, "Steve told me yesterday tha' this would 'appen."

"What is it doing, exactly?"

Beckett shrugged, "Near as ah can tell?" Suddenly sounding pleased, he broke into a proud grin, "It's growin' a heart."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "A heart?"

"Aye. Or half o' one, anyway." Seeing her other eyebrow lift expectantly, Carson quickly elaborated, "Right now, the hard-drive itself is producing the power and muscle contractions necessary to draw fluid into its carapace. It's muscular ability, however, is limited. It's not designed to operate as a pump for an extended period of time, and surviving in this fashion is putting a tremendous strain on its system."

"So, in addition to healing, it needs to relieve this strain…?"

Carson nodded, "An' to tha' effect, it's growin' a new pump." He laughed softly, impressed, "It's fascinatin', really. There's a thin layer of undifferentiated cells embedded within the tissue of these vascular organs," he indicated the intake and waste tentacles, "When those cells sensed tha' they'd been exposed to air, an' the nutrient bath, it triggered a chemical cascade. An' tha' cascade told 'em to begin growin'."

Intrigued, Dr. Weir straightened from her bent position and regarded Dr. Beckett thoughtfully from across the tank, "Just like that?"

"Just like tha'. The process is virtually identical to the way stem cells in embryos use chemical signals to determine which body part they become."

"I see…" Elizabeth looked down at the severed intake tentacle. The dusky bulge ringing its severed end distorted with the slow rippling of the rose-tinted fluid. "And right now those chemical signals are telling the cells to become a heart."

Carson nodded, "Aye. A rudimentary one. Accordin' to Steve, it'll consist o' two valves connected by a muscular tube. It'll suck in liquid and accelerate it through the drive's vascular system usin' the process o' peristalsis—"

"Peristalsis?" Dr. Weir frowned. The term sounded familiar.

"Wave-like muscle contractions," Beckett explained, " specifically designed to move substances through tubes. Like swallowin', or pushin' food through intestines."

"I see…" Struck by a sudden thought, Weir stepped briskly past the large tank containing the patched ovoid and peered down into the orangey-pink fluid of the waste tank. As she'd suspected, the waste tentacle had acquired a similar bulge. "So what's this one making?" she mused, "Surely it doesn't need two hearts?"

"No," Carson confirmed, "It doesn't. But it DOES need a way to regulate its internal pressure. By growin' a second pair o' valves, it'll gain the muscular ability to expel waste fluid while simultaneously regulatin' its internal pressure."

Elizabeth 'hmmed' thoughtfully, "A dual-purpose growth plan…"

"Aye. An' a bloody clever one." Thrusting his hands into his lab coat's oversized pockets, the Scotsman met Dr. Weir's pensive gaze seriously, "This organic technology is amazin', Elizabeth. Stem cell manipulation this advanced—Stem cell programming, basically… It's light years ahead o' Earth. If we could figure out how it works, the medical applications alone would be nothin' short o' astoundin'."

Trailing a finger along the top of the Plexiglas waste tank, Dr. Weir glanced at the sedately floating hard-drive. "So it has potential…"

"Incredible potential."

Her chocolate eyes skewered Beckett's blue ones, "Potential beyond the obvious military advantages we would gain."

Beaming, Carson earnestly replied, "Far beyond."

Smiling softly, Dr. Weir crossed her arms and studied the improvised set-up, sadly shaking her head, "It's a shame we can't keep it longer…"

"Ah know. The chemistry lads 'ave made progress on designin' a filter to help recycle the nutrients. But they're not finished yet. With more time, ah'm sure they'll succeed. Ah just can't guarantee tha' it'll be ready quickly enough to relieve—"

"The strain on our limited supplies." Elizabeth nodded, "That's all right. I highly doubt this is the last wraith hard-drive we'll encounter. Even if we lose this one sooner than we'd like, whatever we construct can be used for preserving the next."

Dr. Beckett shrugged, "Ah understand. But it'd be nice if it didn' come to tha—"

The distinctive Swoooosh of an ancient door sliding open a few yards away made Dr. Weir and Beckett turn. The slim form of Teyla Emmagen, casually dressed in one of her peoples' trademark, laced-V-neck shirts and a skirt, was standing in the doorway. Her dark eyes swept the room, fixing quickly on Dr. Weir. Apparently finding what she was looking for, the Athosian broke into a congenial smile and entered the infirmary, walking confidently towards them as the entrance swished shut behind her.

"Teyla," Dr. Weir greeted pleasantly.

"Good mornin' lass."

Teyla nodded respectfully to each of them, "Good morning Carson. Dr. Weir."

Dr. Beckett moved around the tanks, to stand by Elizabeth, "To wha' do ah owe the pleasure of this visit? Yer not feelin' sick, ah hope?"

"No, Carson. I am quite well. Thank you for your consideration." Teyla's serene gaze slid to his companion, "Actually, I came to see Dr. Weir." She lifted an inquiring, caramel eyebrow at the expedition leader, "I heard you wished to see me?"

"Yes," surprised, Elizabeth frowned slightly, "But I thought the message I sent said to meet me in my office…?"

"It did," Teyla sounded apologetic, "however, I was planning to make a trip to the mainland today. It was my hope that, if you had time, we could meet earlier. Dr. Grodin told me you were down here when I visited the Gateroom," she glanced inquiringly at Beckett, "If I am interrupting something, I can come back later…?"

Understanding, Dr. Weir shook her head, "No, you're not interrupting. Carson and I were just remarking on our latest acquisition's odd growth potential."

Brow furrowing, the Athosian looked at the tank behind them with confusion, "It is healing well, I take it?" The gashes in the hard-drive's shell were still visible as pulsing dips in the tautly stretched membranes. But they seemed smaller…

"More than healin'," Dr. Beckett grinned, "It's growin' entirely new organs."

"I see…" Teyla's expression belied her words.

"I'm sure Carson will be happy to explain it to you," Elizabeth cut in, "But first, let's have that discussion I asked for."

Taking the hint, Dr. Beckett shot a glance at the metal rack holding the concentrates he'd been working with earlier, "In tha' case, ah'll get back to organizin' the nutrients set aside for this beastie. If ye need me after, ah'll be right over there."

"Thank you, Carson," Dr. Weir smiled. As the doctor excused himself and headed for the far corner of the infirmary's large entry room, Dr. Weir led Teyla over to a counter that'd been set up for the night staff assigned to monitor the hard-drive. It was deserted now, so she appropriated two of its rolling chairs, "Have a seat, Teyla."

The Athosian sat, and Elizabeth joined her, smoothly positioning the rolling furniture so they could speak easily, face-to-face.

"What did you wish to discuss, Elizabeth?"

Dr. Weir watched their Pegasus ally closely as she began, "I would like to hear your opinion on a matter concerning our prisoner."

Teyla's eyes darkened briefly, a fleeting shadow of unease, "And what matter would that be?"

"Last night, during a discussion of yesterday's events, Major Sheppard, Dr. McKay, and myself touched upon the subject of potential manipulation."

Teyla frowned, "Manipulation?"

Weir nodded, "Yes. By our prisoner. Namely, the possibility that he will attempt to turn members of this expedition against each other. Or indirectly influence them to take actions furthering his own ends."

"I see…" Teyla settled her arms on her chair's padded armrests, thinking seriously. "May I ask what aspect of this problem you wish me to focus on?"

"Of course," Dr. Weir hooked an errant curl behind her ear, "Knowing what you do of Wraith, how pressing an issue do you believe this is?"

"Ahhh…" Closing her eyes, Teyla took a deep breath and slowly released it in a meditative sigh. Her eyes opened again, "That is a difficult question."

"But one you've already considered, I assume," Elizabeth said, raising an eyebrow. The Pegasus native did not seem surprised by the topic…

"Yes. I have considered it at length. Ever since our prisoner began showing signs of…" a note of skepticism entered Teyla's voice, "cooperating."

"And…?" Dr. Weir prodded, expectantly, "What did you conclude?"

Teyla studied the infirmary floor intently for a moment, then glanced up with a rueful smile, "It is a legitimate concern. However," her tone turned regretful, "as much as I would prefer to advise otherwise, I do not believe it is a pressing worry."

Intrigued by the unexpected verdict, Elizabeth watched her curiously, "Why not?"

"Because he is Wraith," Teyla announced, "Odd though that reasoning must seem…" Smoothing her skirt, she took a few, collective seconds to organize her thoughts. Dr. Weir waited patiently for her to continue. "Normally to Wraith, humans are food, nothing more," Teyla shook her head, "They care nothing for our habits, or our culture. They take what they wish, when they wish. Feeling no need to explain themselves. We are utterly beneath them," Her brown eyes caught the expedition leaders', "And they are confident in their superiority. In that confidence, Wraith routinely force humans to bend to their will. It is their method of choice."

"Why waste time talking to someone unlikely to listen when you can achieve a more satisfying effect faster without bothering," Elizabeth murmured.

"Exactly," Teyla smiled slightly, "And the hate their use of force engenders in humans is irrelevant to them. They have no incentive to learn how to manipulate us."

Dr. Weir leaned forward with interest, "But our wraith DOES have incentive…"

The Athosian nodded, "He is in a unique position."

"Wouldn't that make him more likely to engage in manipulation?"

"Yes," Teyla agreed, "However, everything he has experienced up until now in his life, makes him unlikely to succeed. He never learned to read us."

"He's starting from scratch," Elizabeth frowned. That explained why Steve was always watching Atlantis's personnel so intently…

"But humans, as individuals, are not easily understood," continued Teyla, "Your people especially…" a note of wonder entered her voice, "You're from another galaxy. Your society has advanced far beyond any the Wraith have ever seen. Your values and your ideals… Your denial of his superiority. He cannot hope to learn the subtleties of interacting with humans as equals in such a short period of time. He is too prejudiced."

Weir listened to their Pegasus ally's speech with appreciation. Teyla truly had given the matter serious, and fair, consideration. Her ability to remain impartial while discussing sensitive issues, especially considering this issue involved a wraith, of whom she openly disapproved, was amazing. Elizabeth felt her respect for the Athosian leader jump another notch. "So his attempts to manipulate us won't amount to much?"

"No," Teyla paused, then added, "At least, not in the near future."

"What about yesterday?" Dr. Weir inquired, "Major Sheppard claims our unwilling guest managed to back him into a corner. Can you account for that?"

A glint of repressed mirth twinkled in her ally's dark eyes, "While I respect Dr. McKay greatly as a scientist, he is not the most skillful at reading social cues."

"That's an inoffensive way of putting it."

Teyla smiled, acknowledging the implied compliment, "Though I was ahead scouting for much of the incident to which you refer, it was described to me, in detail, over breakfast," Lieutenant Ford had recounted McKay's wraith baiting with gleeful relish, "Given what occurred, I am confident that our prisoner merely took advantage of an opportunity created by Dr. McKay's carelessness. He could not have engineered the situation without help, and Major Sheppard noticed the danger with ample time to avert it." She shook her head, "The conflict is not one I would regularly expect to see."

Dr. Weir 'hmmmed' pensively. "So… He can recognize a useful situation in time to take advantage of it—"

"But any attempts to engineer similar situations on his own will be clumsily executed and easy to spot. By all but the most socially inept of us."

In other words, don't leave Rodney alone with him. Amused, Elizabeth studied Teyla a moment, struck by the confident tone and notable lack of hesitation in her last statement. "You sound very sure of yourself, Teyla. May I ask why?"

Mirth twinkled in the Athosian's eyes again. "You may," she pushed her caramel hair back, nodding over her shoulder, towards the trio of tanks, "In the abandoned base, after the hard-drive was acquired, our Wraith prisoner attempted to manipulate Major Sheppard a second time. Without McKay's aide."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "Did he, now?" Certain persons had neglected to mention this last night, "What form did this manipulation take?"

Teyla's full lips twitched in a grin, "He attempted to use the threat of your displeasure to make Major Sheppard move faster."

Interesting… "I assume he failed…?"

"Indeed," Teyla's grin widened, "the Major was… Considerably unimpressed by the attempt."

"Oh?" Weir could just imagine, "How did he handle it?"

A quirked eyebrow, "He laughed in the prisoner's face," Teyla's eyes slipped closed in appreciation of the memory, "Quite loudly, I might add."

"I see…" Elizabeth suddenly wished she'd been there.

"Merriment at his expense continued, in a subdued fashion, for several minutes."

"And our prisoner's reaction to this?"

Teyla's eyes opened again, "He was vocally confused. And it was clear he neither understood, nor enjoyed the experience." Suppressing her amusement, Teyla turned serious, "I do not believe he will make another attempt for a while."

"Not until he learns more about us, you mean."

"That is correct."

Satisfied with the exchange, Dr. Weir leaned back in her chair, signaling the end of the interview. "Thank you for your time, Teyla. As usual, your insights are enlightening." She raised an eyebrow, inviting, "Before we adjourn, is there anything else you'd like to add?"

Teyla Emmagen shook her head, "Not at this moment."

Elizabeth smiled, nodding, "Then I see no reason to keep you from preparing for your trip. Please say hello to Halling and Jinto for me."

Standing as Dr. Weir got to her feet, Teyla helped her return the chairs to their proper place, "I will tell them. But I am not leaving quite yet." Her gaze swept the infirmary's oversized foyer, stopping on the rack that'd been set up to hold the hard-drive's supplies, "I believe Carson promised to explain how our living-computer is…" Teyla's brow furrowed in amused confusion, "Growing something…?"

Dr. Weir laughed, "He did promise, didn't he? I wouldn't mind listening to the explanation again myself. The concept is fascinating. Odd, but fascinating."

"Then I would be happy to have you accompany me."

Chatting amiably, the Athosian and Atlantis's expedition leader strolled into the maze of the infirmary, hoping to figure out where Dr. Beckett had gone.

---

Meanwhile…

Miles away, in the formerly flooded lab, an explosive snort reverberated against the corroded walls of a lethally scorched, (and tragically defunct), stasis alcove.

"Told ya not to open it."

Averting his face from the source of the pungent corpse decay he'd just released, Steve curled his lips in disgust and shot Major Sheppard a shocked glare.

"Don't look at me," Sheppard protested, innocently raising his hands, "It's not MY fault you didn't listen."

An accusing hiss slithered through the room, "You might have warned me before I finished prying the lid off!" Steve snapped.

The Major feigned hurt, "But you were having so much fun."

Sharply expelling a lungful of air in a derisive chuff, the wraith rolled his eyes dismissively and gingerly bent to examine the contents of the now-open box he was holding. A black, amorphous mass lay limply in the cloudy water within, glistening with the gelatinous translucency of a beached jellyfish. Steve ran his cheeks past it. He winced, flinching halfway through the first pass. Hastily abbreviating the remaining motions, he replaced the lid and pressed the seal into place, using a single, deft swipe of his ungloved palm. "Your assessment of this glove's condition was not an exaggeration, Major. It is indeed 'melting into a puddle,'" Ivory hair swinging, Steve set the box distastefully on the counter where he'd found it, "We will learn nothing from this." He turned to explore the broken stasis alcove.

Exchanging a glance with Dr. Zelenka, Sheppard frowned, "You sure about that?"

"Yes," an absent snort, "Any information that might've been preserved has been corrupted by mingling tissue decay. Failing to separate the remains of the device completely from its host was a mistake."

"Yeah, well… We did the best we could." Sheppard grimaced, remembering what the gooey artifact had looked like BEFORE Carson began pulling finger bones from it, "They were sorta fused when we found 'em…"

"Very fused," Zelenka added, "I would go so far as to say, inseparable."

Hissing a word that sounded suspiciously like, "Excusssessss…" the wraith muttered something unintelligible under his breath and poked his face into the alcove.

"Say again? I didn't quite catch that," Sheppard quipped.

No response. Steve's gloved and ungloved fingers fluttered across corroded interior panels as he peered at a large scorch mark on the alcove's ceiling.

Moving outside the semicircle of marines positioned to contain the wraith in the back third of the room, Dr. Zelenka craned his neck to follow the captive's gaze. Seeing the burn, he helpfully offered, "We believe that is where the original short occurred."

Olive eyes shot towards him. "Original?" Steve froze… Then tilted his head with a quizzical blink, "As in implying more than one?"

"Yes. The power conduits supplying this area run very close to here," Zelenka gestured to the wall beside the stasis alcove, "We found damage to them. In there."

"Extensive damage," Sheppard interjected, "I assume?"

The Czech nodded, "Structural bubbling indicating brief plasma formation."

Stationed by the indicated wall, Private Sheere edged a step away from it, giving voice to a low whistle, "That's hot."

"Very hot. By mapping burn marks found beneath the algae, our engineers have traced all other electrical damage revealed so far, to this site."

A low, uncomfortable sounding hiss. Steve was brushing his cheeks past the alcove's entry frame, "The Wraith sleeping here was burned alive?"

"No!" Zelenka's eyes widened in horror at the thought, "No, no. Carson assures me he was killed in the initial short. He never woke."

"Didn't feel a thing," Sheppard added.

Steve's oval-pupiled eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he declined to comment. He pulled out of the alcove and turned to survey the rest of the room. Snorting softly, he took a few steps towards Sheere, then dropped to one knee. The translucent claw of his ungloved forefinger rasped across the floor, "What do these symbols mean?"

Sergeant Bates glowered with poorly hidden amusement as the security escort released a smattering of muffled snickers.

Looking up with a chuff, the captive's gaze flickered among his guards warily.

"Those, uh, symbols," Major Sheppard said, hiding a grin, "show where objects of interest were found."

"What objects?" Steve barked. The tips of his ivory hair swept the floor as he bent to examine the yellow smiley face once more.

Dr. Zelenka hurried over to Private Sheere, pointing out the spot where the room's largest sandbank had once lain, "These purple ones over here…" The wraith's face swung towards him, "They mark where we found the organic tools."

Steve eyed the purple smileys beyond Sheere's legs. Then he glanced down, sharply cocking his head, "And the yellow ones…?"

"The yellow mark where we found beads."

"Ahhhh…" The multi-tonal sigh echoed eerily in the sparse, water-gutted lab as Steve rose slowly to his feet. Unfurling to his full height, he stalked to Private Sheere and stared over the marine's head, curling his neck sinuously from side to side. A curious hiss rattled in his throat as he studied Dr. Zelenka. "Beadssss…" Steve's pale lips twitched back with a soft chuff, "Again, you mention this." He lifted his chin, staring down the frazzle-haired scientist, "Again, I ask that you explain the relevance…"

Remembering Sheppard's brief lesson on what to do if he thought the wraith was trying to intimidate him, Dr. Zelenka held his ground and met the intense scrutiny without blinking. After a moment, Steve narrowed his eyes slightly and angled his face away. Relieved, Zelenka nodded, "I will explain. But it is easier to show."

A short pause. Then the ivory head dipped, "I am prepared to observe."

"Excellent!" Major Sheppard announced, "I always love a good observation." Ignoring the disgusted glare suddenly directed his way, he turned on his heel, skirted a gutted console, and headed for the rust-pocked doorframe marking the exit. Shooting their captive an uneasy, apologetic smile, Zelenka hurried to catch up.

"You heard the man," Sergeant Bates called, "Move out!"

Retreating to the middle of his semi-circle, Steve waited patiently while his guards shrank their perimeter. On Bates's signal he stepped forward, allowing Privates Sheere and Laris to close the gap behind him. Like a well-oiled machine, the security escort marched out of the room, following after Sheppard and Dr. Zelenka.

They passed back and forth between one side of the building and the next, traversing corridors laid out in a series of ladder-like, 'H' patterns. The fish smell grew steadily stronger as they went, and yellow smiley stickers began appearing more and more frequently. Slightly weirded out by the sight of a cheery cluster by a grate, (arranged at eye-level, in a giant smiley shape), Sheppard nudged Zelenka.

"Hey, Radek…" he whispered, "What's with the smileys?"

"Ah," Zelenka chuckled softly, "They were Rodney's idea."

Sheppard blinked disbelievingly, "Rodney's?"

"Yes. We were so happy when we found the first beads," he explained, "The odds were astronomically against it. (Or so we thought.) We agreed we needed an appropriately happy marker." Zelenka's nostalgic grin faded as his tone sobered, "That was before we realized…" his lips puffed out in an incredulous sigh, "We had not planned on putting hundreds up."

"Hundreds?" He was exaggerating, right?

Nope. Zelenka was nodding, "Hundreds. We hit 200 a few days ago."

"And you've found more since."

Another nod. "Lots more."

Major Sheppard 'hmmmed,' eyeing a dense group of yellow dots stuck in a corner, on the floor. They were arranged in a fish outline. "Well," he quipped, "At least it's a happy place ya got here."

"That it is—"

"This section's ventilation would benefit from keeping these gaps uncovered."

Zelenka and Sheppard glanced back. Steve was breathing through his mouth again, staring sideways at the black tarps covering the hallway's outer wall with an expression that, were he human, suggested he wanted them open badly, but wasn't willing to admit it. The Major would've found his stubbornness amusing if he hadn't happened to agree with him. The building was starting to smell pretty ripe…

"Ya gonna survive, Steve?"

The wraith's olive eyes shot towards his captor with a chuff.

"'Cause we can always go back…"

Hissing at the flip tone, Steve bared his teeth in a mock smile, "Though unpleasant in the extreme, Major, a pungent stench is just that. Stench." With a distasteful chuff, he looked away, "Though an indicator of physical negligence and ignorance of sanitation, it is not life threatening. No matter how… Putrescent."

Ouch! Sheppard raised an eyebrow, "So you don't mind, then?"

The pale face snapped towards him, "I did not say that."

"Then you do mind?"

Steve stared at his captor. Silence stretched. One second. Two… Hissing softly, he finally narrowed his eyes and drew himself up. The mock smile turned amiable. "Major Sheppard, I would like to make a request."

Not missing the patronizing note, Sheppard feigned surprise, "Would ya, now?

"Yessss…."

Signaling a stop, he turned to face the wraith. Beside him, Dr. Zelenka watched the exchange with wary curiosity. "Request away, Steve."

"I would like you to order your subordinates to open these," the olive irises slid sedately to the nearest expanse of tarp, "windows…"

Acutely aware of Sergeant Bates's almost palpable aura of disapproval, Sheppard made a show of pursing his lips thoughtfully, "You mean uncover the holes."

The submissively narrowed gaze slid back his way, "If you prefer…"

"Nahhh. Windows sounds nicer."

No response. The wraith blinked, patiently…

Deciding a subtle reminder of their guest's status as a prisoner was called for, the Major crossed to the closest 'window.' Steve's ivory head turned, following his movements. A hollow thump echoed in the corridor as Sheppard slapped the rubbery black tarp. "Do you know what's on the other side of this, Steve?"

Steve studied him, clearly unimpressed by the digression, "Clean, untainted air?"

"And…?"

Another blink, followed by a barely audible hiss.

"Okay, I'll tell you what's behind it." Major Sheppard slapped the tarp again and announced, "H2O." Steve's face tilted imperceptibly with curiosity. "H2O saturated with sodium chloride ions," He paused seriously and hardened his voice. "Lots of it."

The oval-pupiled eyes widened with comprehension, "Ahhhhh…"

"Retrieving items of interest that fall, accidentally, into that H2O, is a bit inconvenient. In fact, I prefer avoiding it as much as possible."

"Understandable…"

"Knowing that, why should I order my… subordinates as you called them, to create a situation that might allow a PERSON of interest to fall?"

Steve hissed pensively, sweeping his gaze across the waiting marines of his security escort. His focus lingered on Sergeant Bates, who remained deliberately neutral, then skipped back to Sheppard, "Can you see through fog, Major Sheppard?"

A new digression. Interesting. "Depends how thick it is," he quipped.

"The fog gathering in this building is very thick…"

Not digression. A metaphor! Sheppard played along, "Okay, how thick is it?"

"Too thick…" The orifices on Steve's cheeks quivered as he expelled a disgusted chuff, "I will soon be unable to adequately examine any items you decide to show me."

That bad, huh?… He shared a glance with Zelenka, who looked concerned.

"If he cannot… examine things properly," the physicist offered, "It could be a problem. We might miss something that only he could tell us."

"Assuming there IS something only he can tell us."

"True," Zelenka shrugged, "But if there is and we miss it, we wouldn't know."

Agreeing, Sheppard studied the wraith appraisingly. The alien looked distinctly hopeful… He stepped closer to the escort, "How do I know the dissipation of this FOG of yours won't disorient you, causing you to fall 'accidentally' out a window?"

Lowering his head, Steve angled his face away slightly and withdrew a pace, "I assure you, Major Sheppard. I have no interest in bathing in salt water."

The Major loaded his voice with skepticism, "You're sure about that?"

A soft chuff, "Yesssss… My interest lies only in the air."

Silence stretched in the corridor once more as Sheppard studied the wraith's deferential posture. He sounded sincere. And he was obviously trying to LOOK sincere too… Of course, it could be a ruse. But why try to escape when he was finally in the middle of getting what he wanted? No, an escape attempt now was unlikely. The prisoner was, indeed, in olfactory distress. And, more importantly…

…So was Sheppard.

Nodding decisively, he turned to Dr. Zelenka. "Let's open this place up." He glanced at Bates, "Keep to inner walls where possible," his blue eyes indicated the relieved-looking prisoner, "I don't think there'll be a problem."

"Understood, Sir," Sergeant Bates was too professional to protest the decision in front of Steve, but his expression said Sheppard would be getting an earful later.

That was okay, though. He was used to getting his ear bent by the Security Chief. Bates's job was to complain about unnecessary risks. Sheppard could live with that…

Beside him, Zelenka, tapped his radio, "Radek to Dr. Sheckle. Come in, please."

Nine earpieces crackled to life, "Dr. Sheckle here. Where are you, Radek? We were starting to think you lost your sense of direction."

The Czech grinned briefly, "We are almost to the first sifting station."

"Oh? What'd our guest think of Ground Zero?"

"He found the method of demise, uh… Disturbing? I think?"

A static pause, "Don't we all…"

Zelenka nodded, "Listen, Mira. I need you to undo the tarps we sealed earlier."

"All of them?" The tinny voice held a note of disbelief.

"Yes. All."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow as a distinct chorus of cheers and, "Thank Gods!" erupted in the radios' background noise. An audible flurry of activity followed.

"You have no idea how many days you just made, Doctor," Sheckle exclaimed, "It's worse than usual. Building faster. Colin was about to distribute face masks."

Dr. Zelenka winced, "I did not think it would get that bad."

"No reason to. It didn't last time."

"No, it didn't," The physicist glanced at Sheppard, "We will come to the sifting station soon. When you are finished, send someone to open the upper levels."

"Already on it," Dr. Sheckle announced, "Sheckle out."

The radios crackled off…

"Well," Major Sheppard quipped, breaking the sudden quiet, "She sounded happy."

"Yes," Zelenka agreed, "they all did."

"A little TOO happy."

"It must be very bad today…"

Hearing a guilty note in the hesitant reply, Sheppard peered at the physicist suspiciously, "Any particular reason why?"

"No, not really." Pinned by the Major's 'spill it' stare, Zelenka finally shrugged, "All right, all right. We suspect," he paused, emphasizing 'suspect,' " that there is a rather large source of decay in one of this building's last rooms. Too large for us to handle easily. We've been saving it for last for that reason. If our suspicions are correct, it will begin, progressively, to smell worse as time passes."

Really… McKay hadn't bothered mentioning THAT in his last report. Shaking his head, Sheppard stalked to the wall and began unknotting tarp fasteners from their hooks, "I think your suspicions are proving correct, Radek."

With a sheepish smile, Dr. Zelenka joined him, "So it seems…"

Watching their hurried unbattening, Sergeant Bates frowned, "What sort of 'source of decay' are we talking about?"

"Uhhh… We're not sure," Zelenka shrugged again, "As I said, we're saving the room for last. That includes initial survey. The door is tricky." The cord in his hand snapped free, and he reached for another, "Dr. Paloski theorizes it is a large marine animal. Possibly a trapped, whale-like mammal. Or a giant squid. Maybe octopus?"

Major Sheppard jerked his last fastener loose, "How large is large?" A stiff breeze swept past the corroded edges of the hole, "Are we talking bathtub size? Jacuzzi?" Rolling the waterproof material up, he locked it into place, "Large beach ball?"

"Uhh…" Zelenka's glance was apologetic, "Try large van?"

"Awww…" He knew who was gonna be asked to help move that…

"Maybe small autobus?"

Better and better. "Ya know what?" Sheppard quipped, suddenly feeling disagreeable, "Let's not talk about this right now."

"That's exactly why we don't know what it is."

"Yeah, well I understand your chosen ignorance completely," Wind whistled into the corridor as the Major moved to the next hole and jerked a cord free. "Maybe if we leave it alone long enough, it'll rot away to nothing. Whatever it is…"

Within the circle of waiting, watchful marines, Steve scented the air as the growing fish stink finally began to dissipate. After a moment, he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose. Then he released a long, relieved sigh.

"Your consideration in this matter is greatly appreciated…"

As the tour began moving again, the security escort silently seconded the comment.

---

Meanwhile…

In the infirmary, Dr. Weir was staring at Dr. McKay with poorly hidden confusion, "No, Rodney. You can't go down there."

"But I should be there! I'm the one supposedly collaborating with him. Not Zelenka. It'll completely undermin—"

"You're not ready. Just last night, you leapt at the chance to avoid it."

"That was before I thought about it seriously."

"The answer's 'No,' Rodney." Cutting McKay's next protest off with a warning shake of her head, Weir added, "Dr. Zelenka and Major Sheppard can handle it. I explained last night, I need you working on the hard-drive interface."

"But I can't test anything yet!" McKay spluttered, "It's just sitting there! Floating!" His hands flapped irritably towards the tanks, where Carson was busily explaining the organic device's amazing heart-growths to Teyla. "What am I supposed to do? Tap the Plexiglas and sprinkle fish food on it? I'm useless here—"

"Start running simulations. Finish your designs. Fix the bugs in your program before they have a chance to become problems."

Huffing frustratedly, Dr. McKay snapped his mouth shut.

Satisfied with the surrender, Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "You can start by filling me in on your plan."

The sulky scientist was not amused, "I TOLD you about it last night."

"Yes…" she purred, "And you've had all morning to work on it." The other eyebrow lifted knowingly to join its mate, "Unless you expect me to believe a genius, such as yourself, was unable to make any progress during that time?"

Pleased by the flattery in spite of himself, Rodney petulantly looked away. Studying a cart of medical supplies, he grudgingly blurted, "Actually, I HAVE made progress." He shrugged a bit, "SOME progress, anyway…"

"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me."

"It's not terribly impressive, mind you—At least, not compared to some of the OTHER things I've done."

"I'm sure it'll be enlightening," Dr. Weir stared at McKay expectantly.

Buckling under her approval, he gave in, "Fine." He poked the supply cart and entered lecture mode, decisively stating, "I can now say for certain that my plan to use life-signs detectors to interface with the hard-drive WILL work."

Elizabeth clasped her hands behind her with interest, "Go on."

McKay nodded shortly, "And the reason it WILL work is because the LSDs are already programmed to do it."

"Really?" she frowned curiously.

"I know, I know," he carelessly waved her off, "I wasn't expecting it either. I knew they were CAPABLE of it. But actually prepared to—And not ALL of them, by the way. Only a few—" McKay looked at her seriously, "We're going to have to test every LSD we find. Keep the wraith talkers separate—"

"Wraith talkers?"

"The LSDs with wraith interface programs. They've got extra memory and processing power. Shouldn't be hard to identify. A simple diagnostic—"

Weir cut him off, "How many life-signs detectors are we talking about?"

Derailed, Dr. McKay sounded momentarily unsure, "Uh… Two or three? Maybe?" he huffed absently, "We're looking at one out of every eight so far."

"And the Ancients programmed them to access wraith computers…"

"Yes!" grinning smugly, McKay hugged his data-pad, "Just plug it into the computer's user interface and BAM! It starts talking to it."

Sensing a flaw in the scientist's enthusiasm, Dr. Weir glanced over her shoulder, at the tanks, "But our hard-drive doesn't have a user interface, Rodney. Unless I'm mistaken, we left its console on M1X-347."

He was shaking his head, "Uh-uh, not a problem."

She eyed him skeptically, "You're sure?"

McKay chuckled dismissively, "It's a HARD-drive," he scoffed, "It's got an access port somewhere. As soon as it's healed, I'll have Steve tell me where it is. Then it's just a matter of hooking the LSD up and making it bypass stuff."

"You mean, have it talk straight to the drive."

"Yes. Skip the console's user interface completely. It'll be easy—" Dr. McKay cut himself off, grimacing in frustration, "Assuming, of course, that I can get the wraith program TRANSLATED properly. Believe it or not, that's the biggest obstacle now."

"Is it…?" Elizabeth was surprised, "Would you like me to take a look at it?" She was Atlantis's foremost expert in the Ancient language, after all…

"Won't do any good," He gave an irritable huff, "We've got most of the input parameters done already. It's translating the OUTput that's the problem. 'Cause it's—"

"Different every time," she nodded, understanding, "And the translation program isn't perfect yet." Ancient writing was incredibly complicated. Its words and symbols frequently had two or three meanings, and context was vital in determining which interpretation was correct. The translator cut the work considerably, but every file it ran still needed to be skimmed by a language expert, (usually Weir), to catch the gaffs.

"No, it's not perfect," McKay grumbled, "It turned a dissertation on hyperspace physics into abstract poetry. Completely unreadable." He brightened suddenly, "But it IS improving!" his voice rose cockily, "Thanks to my new and improved version 1.1.2, translation times have been reduced almost 40%!"

The number was impressive. However…

"What does that mean in practice?" Weir asked.

The cockiness vanished. McKay fidgeted uncomfortably, "Instead of verifying every other word, you only have to verify every third?…" He glanced away a moment, then muttered petulantly, "And it can recognize the number two…"

She stared in surprise, "It couldn't recognize two?!"

"No," Rodney looked embarrassed, "And before you ask… No, I don't know why, either. I wasn't expecting the modifications to fix the problem, but hey! Not complaining," His lips pursed thoughtfully, "…Probably something to do with letter-shape and font encoding," his data-pad waved dismissively, "But that's not important. What IS important is that the hard-drive's power levels are rising, and the majority of the wraith interface program WILL be translated by the time it finishes healing."

"But you said the output—"

McKay shook his head, "1.1.2 changes translation from excruciatingly slow to merely painful. It's a roadblock, yes. But I'll get the data within Carson's timeframe."

"Okay, then…" Deciding her chief scientist's confidence was acceptable, (considering he was less than 24 hours into the project), Elizabeth switched her focus, "Tell me about the hard-drive. It's power levels are rising?"

"Yes!" Dr. McKay brightened again, "They've been increasing steadily." Tucking his data-pad under his arm, he fumbled out a life-signs detector and directed it at the tanks, "Hah! See there? Back up to five percent!"

Dr. Weir peered at the device being thrust towards her, "And that means…?"

Abruptly bewildered, McKay eyed her suspiciously, "That it's at five percent?" He huffed condescendingly, "It stabilized at zero point three six—"

"But what does it MEAN?" she pressed, "Five percent of what?"

"Oh," he frowned a moment. Then… "Of what it was when we arrived."

"And how does that relate to the readings Dr. Corde took when we first discovered it?" Elizabeth's eyebrows lifted, "BEFORE it was damaged?"

Sniffing primly, Rodney snatched the data-pad back, "Corde's readings came from the entire base. They're not compatible with these."

"So you don't know."

"How COULD I know!?" he squeaked, "The hard-drive wasn't isolated then! There's no way to separate it from the rest of the mishmash! What do—"

"The number is meaningless."

Teyla's calm voice cut smoothly into the defensive outburst from across the room, making Dr. Weir and Dr. McKay both turn. The Athosian was standing by the hard-drive, watching them from beside the intake tank. Alone. Dr. Beckett, (having apparently finished his explanation), was nowhere to be seen.

Smiling sagely, Teyla caught Elizabeth's gaze and continued, "It is the rate of change that's important."

Intrigued, Elizabeth ignored McKay's eye-roll and smiled back, "What's this?"

Teyla inclined her head slightly, "Something the prisoner said yesterday, while we were in the base. I did not understand what he was referring to at the time, but I believe it applies to what you and Dr. McKay are discussing."

"Does it, now?" Dr. Weir considered Teyla Emmagen thoughtfully.

"Yes. He repeated similar comments several times last night, during the construction of these tanks. In retrospect, I am sure he was trying to tell us this earlier."

"I see…" Weir glanced at McKay as Teyla bent to examine the serenely bubbling center tank. Her chief scientist wore a long-suffering expression. "So, the rate of change in the hard-drive's power is more important than the power level itself…"

McKay snorted derisively, "According to the life-sucking bug? Yes." He huffed irritably, "But it's not a SPECIFIC rate of change. It's a generic, RELATIVE rate of change. And this RELATIVE change FLUCTUATES randomly within an unpredictable range dependant on make, model, and the quality of our nutrients." Becoming a grayish-white blur, his life-signs detector shook exasperatedly at the tanks, "THIS is the part of wraith tech. I don't like. It's FULL of inexactness. Too much voodoo—"

Elizabeth deadpanned, "Voodoo?"

"Yup! Voodoo," Rodney wiggled his free hand's fingers, "The biology, mediciney parts of organic technology…"

A short silence filled the infirmary. Then…

"Did it even occur to ye tha' some o' the people who work 'ere might find comments like tha' a wee bit offensive?"

At McKay's frozen, startled expression, Dr. Weir, who'd seen Dr. Beckett approaching behind the physicist, hid an amused grin.

"Well, did it?" Beckett pressed.

Recovering, Dr. McKay glared at Carson, "Does it look like I care?" He 'hmmphed' sharply in disgust, "It's me. What did you expect?" With an arrogant mutter, he added, "You should be used it by now."

"Lovely," Dropping the matter, Carson shifted his focus to Elizabeth, "Yer right, though. An' so's Teyla. The rate o' change is wha' we're measurin' to monitor the hard-drive's health." He jerked his head towards the drive, "When yon beastie's fully healed—An' its hearts 'ave finished growin'—its power level will plateau an' enter a steady, cyclical pattern." Tapping his fingers against his clipboard excitedly, Carson grinned at Weir, "Accordin' to Steve, tha's when it'll be safe to access."

"I see…" she murmured.

"Yes," McKay interjected resentfully, "And until then, I'm not allowed to lay so much as a FINGER on the thing without the WRAITH'S permission!"

"With good reason, Rodney!" Carson frowned earnestly at him, "Any undue stress could send tha' beastie into arrest. It's not meant to be on its own like this!"

"And because of that I can't even probe it?!" Not even remotely pacified, Dr. McKay rounded on Weir, squeaking indignantly, "Half the things I want to do are passive! I'm not even allowed to bounce radio waves off it."

Dr. Weir opened her mouth to ask WHY he'd want to do that, but Dr. Beckett was already responding. "It's for yer own good!"

A disbelieving huff, "How do you figure that!?"

The Scotsman shook his head exasperatedly, "We don' know how it'll respond. If ah let ye do stuff, an' it died as a resu—"

"It WON'T die!"

"Ye don't know tha'!" Beckett glared and Rodney snapped his lips closed petulantly, "If it died, wha' then? Ye'd 'ave lost it, an' it'd be yer own fault—"

"So let it be my fault!" McKay squawked.

Carson shook his head again, "Ah cannot do tha'."

"Why not!?!"

"'Cause Major Sheppard would blame ME for lettin' ye touch it!"

"Oh, for goodness—" McKay rolled his eyes and rounded on Weir again, "See what I'm putting up with?!" She raised an eyebrow. "It's a conspiracy! A conspiracy designed to prevent ME from taking contro—"

"From taking control of the hard-drive away from our only organic technology expert?" Elizabeth gazed at Dr. McKay reproachfully, "He might be a prisoner, but he IS helping us for the moment. I'd think you—"

"Dr. Beckett?"

Relieved at the interruption, Weir and Carson both turned. McKay sulkily followed suit. Teyla Emmagen hadn't left the infirmary yet. Though mostly hidden by Plexiglas, they could see her peering closely into the drive's waste tank.

"Forgive me for interrupting. Could you take a look at this?"

"Certainly, luv," giving a neutral glance to Rodney, and a grateful one to Dr. Weir, Carson made his way over to her. Backing away from the tank as he approached, Teyla side-stepped while gesturing to the rippling, pink-tinted liquid.

"Is it supposed to do that?" she inquired.

"Do wha'?" Not seeing anything obvious, Beckett frowned and leaned out over the waste fluid's sparkling surface.

Crouching, Teyla indicated for him to look at it from the side. As he bent down, she pointed, "There. On the tentacle. Where you said its… regulating valves will form."

"Right on the end, then?"

"Yes…"

Carson looked closer, "Ah'm afraid ah'm not seein'—"

"Wait for it, Doctor."

He waited… The tentacle's severed end floated serenely, dangling in the rose-tinted suspension. Its cut lips pulsed rhythmically with each silent, invisible expulsion of fluid. One expulsion… Two… Still nothing… "Ah don' see—"

A thin, blackish-brown thread shot swiftly out of the tube. "Wha'…?" Another followed. Then a third. Three threads, kinked and thin as hair. Carson estimated they ranged in length from a quarter inch to an inch, "Is this wha' ye saw?"

Beside him, Teyla nodded, "Yes."

Caught in the current of the last expulsion, the unidentified hairs curled and fragmented like ash, then lost momentum and started sinking. Beckett's eyes dropped. A thin carpet of black scribbles was slowly dusting the tank's bottom.

"Bloody Hell… How long's it been doin' this?"

"I'm not sure," Teyla apologetically replied, "It was doing it when I got here."

"Can't be long, then," muttered Carson. He'd given it a thorough once-over before Elizabeth arrived… Eyes fixed on the tentacle, (more threads were swooshing out), he raised his voice, shouting, "Someone get me a net!"

A muffled acknowledgement emanated from the depths of the infirmary as Teyla asked, concerned, "Do you know what it is?"

His shoulders lifted in a white, lab-coated shrug. "Honestly?" Tearing his eyes from the threads, Carson glanced worriedly at her. Then at Dr. Weir and McKay, who'd followed him. He shook his head, looking back at the tank.

"Ah haven' the foggiest…"

---

Meanwhile…

The second half of the flooded lab wasn't nearly as clean as the first. Instead of occasional grains of sand scattered in corners, there were knee-high piles drifted against the walls. Garlands of desiccated seaweed dripped from gutted consoles, ceilings, and doorways, and the dry crinkle of withered fronds filled the air as gusts of wind found their way into recently reopened 'windows.' Smears of blackish brown mildew and decaying algae coated everything, obscuring the scorch marks that'd been a consistent feature of the first half of the tour.

Looking around, Major Sheppard decided he preferred these rooms. Call him crazy, but he found signs of fiery doom a bit depressing. Plus, the place had a welcoming, lived-in feeling, ('cause of the researchers working in it 24-7). And the shell-dotted mini-dunes made him want to build sand castles.

There was the smell, true… The drying dunes still contained rotting fish and other decomposing sea life, and the dead clam over-tone was particularly pungent…

But it wasn't THAT bad, thanks to the holes—

A particularly strong whiff of decay-riddled detritus wafted out of an unexcavated room as they passed, and Sheppard wrinkled his nose. The wraith snorted behind him.

Okay, so maybe it WAS that bad. But that didn't mean—

"Here we are," Dr. Zelenka announced. The six-marine escort ground to a halt as Sergeant Bates, and Sheppard stopped in the mouth of a cross corridor. Zelenka gestured about the T-shaped intersection, "This is our excavation's current center of operation."

Sheppard glanced around, then moved further in, "Like what you've done with the place…" He scraped a boot across the maze of sandy footprints covering the floor.

Behind him, Zelenka sighed, "Your understated appreciation is noted."

"Naw, I'm serious." Brightening his tone, the Major peered into one of the two barrels framing the right hand doorway, "It looks very…"

…The barrel was full of sand.

Alrighty, then… "…Functional." Turning away, he surveyed the room a moment, then signaled Bates to spread out. The security escort paired off and moved to cover the three exits, leaving their charge free to explore the space. Unsettled, (despite having expected it), Dr. Zelenka shifted closer to Sergeant Bates, and the perceived safety of the bayonet-equipped stunner in the Security Chief's arms.

Holding perfectly still, Steve watched the change in formation with alert, but passively narrowed, eyes. He stayed eerily motionless, waiting for the last marine to finish taking her post. Then his pale face swung unhurriedly towards his guide.

Zelenka unconsciously stepped back, slipping slightly behind Bates.

The wraith noted the defensive repositioning and looked away, exhaling an unreadable snort. Then he turned sharply and paced purposefully to the barrels, accompanied by the snapping swirl of black leather. He directed a disinterested glance into the first and continued on, apparently as unimpressed by sand and seashells as Sheppard had been. At the second barrel, he stopped. Steve's coat panels brushed stiffly against the blue drum's heavy-duty plastic as he secured his long hair with his gloved hand and leaned over it. He rolled his face from side to side in a loose, circular motion, inhaling deeply. A pleased hiss whispered through the intersection.

Straightening, Steve glanced over his shoulder, "Distilled water…"

"That is correct," Zelenka nodded.

"For cleansing items, I assume?" Not waiting for a reply, Steve re-gathered his hair and bent down for another whiff.

"Yes," Dr. Zelenka finally realized he was using Bates as a shield and stepped around him, coming a bit closer to the wraith, "We sift everything here," Zelenka explained, "Every sand pile. Every dead animal. Every sea plant," he shrugged vaguely, "Anything of interest is rinsed and catalogued. The rest is returned to sea."

At this last, Sheppard, who'd unobtrusively sidled over to keep the Czech covered, startled, "Whoa! You're dumping this stuff in the ocean?"

"That is what I said."

He frowned, "Aren't you worried about missing something?"

"No," looking away from Steve, who was studying him with interest, Zelenka focused on Sheppard, "We are being very thorough. Very. Anything we're not sure about is put in storage, for later analysis." His mouth twitched in a briefly rueful grin, "Besides. Even if we wanted, saving it all would be impractical."

Sheppard raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Ya don't say?"

Not missing his tone, Zelenka chuckled, "We've already removed several TONS of sand from upper rooms. There's at least an equal amount left here," he gestured to the sand-filled barrel, "That drum? Emptied four or five times a day. Easy."

The Major gave a low whistle, "That's a lot of sand."

"Yes. A lot of sand which neither Rodney nor I am interested in cataloguing."

"Understandable…"

A low hiss. "And what have you found, Dr. Zelenka," Steve turned away from the water, expelling a curious chuff, "that you consider to be of interest?"

Catching the alien's carefully unthreatening gaze, their guide's uneasy mirth vanished, "Not much, unfortunately." He began ticking items off on his fingers, "Uhhh… The organic tools, which you've already seen. A rotting corpse—"

"NOT on the tour," Sheppard interjected, pointing at Steve warningly.

"—which you don't get to see. A rotting glove—"

The wraith's lips twisted in quickly hidden disgust.

"—which you've recently seen—"

"And smelled," Sheppard quipped. The olive eyes snapped to his face in humorless annoyance. He feigned ignorance, "What?"

Zelenka was still listing, "A few oddly shaped bits of metal… The, uh… glove that you're wearing. And… Of course!" he brightened suddenly, "The beads!"

Refocusing on the scientist, Steve turned his face aside and inclined his ivory head, studying Zelenka obliquely. "I am still waiting to see these… beads."

"I know, I know. Uh…" Glancing about, Dr. Zelenka looked around, quickly scanning the room, "They are here. Somewhe— Ah!" He spun on his heel and jogged to the outer wall. Retrieving a plastic Coolwhip tub from a bunch of crates positioned under a 'window,' like a bench, he brought it back, saying, "Here they are!"

The oval-pupiled eyes snapped to Sheppard as the scientist held the tub out hesitantly, at arm's-length. "Am I allowed to touch these items?"

Smiling flippantly, the Major gave a careless shrug, "Yeah, sure. Go right ahead," he paused, "It's not like we don't know how many are in there."

The wraith acknowledged the implied warning with an imperceptible nod and deferential blink, "I know of no reason why that number would change," he hissed.

"Good. Let's keep it that way."

"As you wish, Major…" Steve stretched out his ungloved hand, carefully accepting the proffered container. Fifteen beads rattled and clicked as he propped it against the leather covering his stomach. "I see…" Snorting softly, Steve dipped his feeding hand in and delicately selected one of the artifacts. Light sparkled through the gem-like sphere as he slowly lifted it to his face.

Abruptly, he froze. Ivory hair swaying, Steve slid his gaze to his captors, "These are pieces of the rotting artifact." A questioning note entered his multi-tonal voice, "The recovery of so many, after so long, is… Impressive."

Humoring the unspoken query, Sheppard shrugged again, "Nah, not really. We've recovered several hundred of 'em."

The wraith's eyes widened in surprise, "Several hundred?"

"Finding more every day," Zelenka added.

"The ones here," a curious hiss, "are from today only, then…"

"From this morning, yes."

Chuffing pensively, Steve looked down at the bead. His focus darted to his wrist, comparing the glistening orb to the ones embedded in the glove. Cupping it in his feeding hand, he closed his eyes and finished bringing it to his face. Light refracted through the polished sphere, dappling his lichen skin with orange flecks as he swept the orifices on his cheeks past it. After a moment, Steve inhaled deeply and paused… Then he repeated the motions… Another inhalation. Another pause…

Major Sheppard watched, intrigued, as this pattern continued. Unlike the security escort, who were exchanging puzzled glances, he suspected the wraith wasn't repeating himself. The thin slits framing the pale nose were widening with each pass…

No, Steve wasn't doing the same thing over and over. He was probably—What did Beckett say the slits did? Right!—fine-tuning his Electric Field sensors.

A long hiss rattled from the prisoner's throat as he furrowed his brow and flexed his black-gloved fingers, finally lowering the orb slightly.

Observing the display with hopeful fascination, Dr. Zelenka cleared his throat as the beads on the wraith's wrist glimmered briefly, "Did you discover anything?"

Steve snorted faintly, staring intently at the bead, "No…" his lips twitched with a mildly irritated chuff, "It is remarkably inert."

The Czech grimaced, "I know," he eyed the Coolwhip tub ruefully, "Their unresponsive state has severely hampered analysis."

A low hiss, "To be expected…" Steve drew himself up, olive eyes sliding towards Zelenka with a disdainful sniff, "You do not know what these are."

"No, bu—"

"Neither do you." Oval pupils flicked to Sheppard inscrutably. Not liking the wraith's superior tone, he added, "But we've got lots of ideas." Sheppard met Steve's enigmatic snort with a flip grin, "Personally, I think they're food pellets."

Tilting his head, Steve glanced at the bead sparkling on the glove's black palm and narrowed his eyes, considering the suggestion with unexpected seriousness. He curled his fingers around it, and the amber spheres dotting his wrist pulsed brightly for a moment. Olive irises swept back to Sheppard. "Such an assumption is not unreasonable, given the circumstances," Steve murmured, "However," a disapproving hiss… "such a label does not explain how they fulfill their purpose."

"No, it doesn't," confirmed Sheppard, mockingly, "That's what scientists are for."

"So it seemsssss…" Baring his translucent teeth with a chuff, Steve turned away, ivory hair fanning dismissively. He addressed Zelenka, "Where were these found?"

Zelenka's hands spread apologetically, "All over. The currents spread them throughout the entire lab. The wildlife constantly was moving them."

"No dense deposits? Variances in concentration?"

"Only in the bellies of dead fish."

"Apparently everything living on the ocean floor found them appetizing,"

At the Major's words, a frown flitted across the wraith's face, "No way to trace the dispersal to its source?"

Zelenka shook his head, "No, none. At least… none that WE have found."

"We ARE open to suggestions," Sheppard offered.

Deftly replacing the bead in the Coolwhip container still resting against his stomach, Steve delicately hooked his hair behind his ears and offered it to Zelenka. "I will learn nothing more from these here. Show me how you find them."

"You wish to continue the tour?"

A barely perceptible nod, "Yessss…"

The orange beads clicked and rolled as the Czech edged forward and gingerly accepted the tub, "Very well." Quickly verifying that all fifteen were still there, he retrieved a flimsy white lid from the makeshift bench by the outer wall and sealed them in. They'd be joining their brethren in the Penny Jar later. "I must warn you," Dr. Zelenka added, tucking the tub under his arm, "It gets messy after this."

An unconcerned blink, "Your warning is heard."

"Always a good thing," Sheppard quipped, "hearing warnings…" While Steve's eyes rolled in disgust, he nodded at Sergeant Bates, who gave the signal to close in. As one, the marines reformed their security perimeter around the wraith, and within seconds the procession was moving again.

Zelenka's warning about the mess proved well warranted. At the next intersection, the sand strewn strip of relatively clear floor bisecting the corridor's wall-to-wall sand-drifts, gave way to a good half-foot of squishy, partly dried mudpack.

Boot slipping as it sank into the pack's damp interior, Major Sheppard frowned critically at the silt-accumulation. "A bit slick down here."

Zelenka glanced back with a wry chuckle, "That is why we make paths through each area before we work in it. Here is still mostly untouched."

As they passed a hole in a drift, a pair of yellow smileys stuck to the inner wall above it made Sheppard's eyebrows climb, "But you ARE pulling beads outta here."

"Yes. We have an advance team predicting the location of deposits."

A soft chuff resonated behind them, "You said the source was untraceable."

"Ahhh!" Raising a finger, Zelenka grinned at the following wraith, "But they are not tracing the source. They are tracing other things."

"What thingsss…?" Steve peered into the hole with interest as he passed.

Knowing this answer, Sheppard smugly jumped in, "Sea life."

A multi-tonal hiss echoed him, "Sssea life?"

"Yup. Following the fishes."

"In what way?"

That Sheppard wasn't as sure about, "Well…"

"By identifying bead-eating species and predicting corpse locations," Zelenka explained, "They've been remarkably successful. It's speeded recovery considerably."

"But not clean-up," Sheppard pointed out, boots slipping again.

"Uh, no. That continues to be the slow part…"

They fell silent, observing the salty, tide-pool-smelling features of the lab, passing doorways choked with limply drying kelp and vegetation. Muffled voices, belonging to volunteers who'd been cleared to keep working during the tour, rose and fell as the group navigated intersections and skirted large breaks in the outer wall. The first visible sign that they weren't alone was a pair of blue-clad scientists clearing a path through a recently de-kelped room. Looking up from their sieves and seaweed piles, the two greeted Dr. Zelenka with friendly smiles, and then craned their necks to stare at the passing wraith with open curiosity. Steve cocked his head and stared back.

Whispers followed the security escort down the corridor.

An ambiguous hiss drowned the excited chatting. "Your kind…" murmured Steve, "truly have no experience with my race. So little fear…"

Sensing the comment was mostly rhetorical, and not wanting the captive to know how enthusiastically McKay's excavators had competed to be allowed to stay, (he'd heard tales of their excessively heated Rock, Paper, Scissors matches), Major Sheppard shrugged carelessly, "Yeah, that's us. Deficient in the fear department…"

The musical chuckle that resonated from Steve's throat startled the marines surrounding him. "Not always a bad trait, Major."

True. He shrugged again, "Not always a good one, either."

"In this case… Perhaps…"

Great. Another amorphous 'should I trust or not trust' statement. Sheppard glanced back to see the wraith's eyes narrowed unreadably. Meeting the gaze, he lifted a suggestively flip eyebrow, "Care to elaborate?"

Turning his face without breaking eye contact, Steve blinked slowly and raised his chin, olive irises sparkling with unpredictable amusement, "I think not…"

"That's what I thought," Sheppard looked forward and continued walking.

They passed a few more rooms being stripped of seaweed and outfitted with paths by pairs of scientists, all of whom stopped to stare at the captive with blatant fascination. Sergeant Bates frowned disapprovingly at the curious spectators, and Sheppard made a mental note to discourage their behavior in the future. A single person, like Dr. Corde, was one thing, but an entire flock of Earth humans trying to get close to the alien was another matter. Limiting the number of personnel Steve had contact with was definitely something he and Weir were gonna have to work on…

Idly musing on the complexities of enforcing such limits, (between Carson's tests, the hard-drive, and the flooded lab, the wraith was already involved with multiple departments), Major Sheppard followed Dr. Zelenka around a corner, only to find the next hallway blocked by a trio of scientists and a low wall of haphazardly stacked buckets. The sand and muck-covered excavators, two women and one man, froze in the middle of plunging a measuring stick into a sandbank and stared at them in confusion. The confusion rapidly morphed into wide-eyed astonishment as the marine escort and conspicuously black-coated prisoner rounded the corner, halting behind them.

The two groups stared at each other in stupefied silence for a moment.

Then…

"I thought you said they were ready for us," Sergeant Bates barked.

Zelenka flapped his hands, flabbergasted, "I thought they were!"

Finding the situation both irksome and inappropriately humorous, Sheppard crossed his arms and eyed the bucket-barricade eloquently.

"We ARE ready for you!" The middle scientist, a 30ish red-headed woman wearing bright blue, elbow-length rubber gloves, pointed back over her shoulder, to an intersection further down the hall, "We thought you were coming that way!"

"We discussed this earlier," Zelenka frowned, "The map I sent—"

"Said you were coming THAT way."

Zelenka was shaking his head, "No, that was Rodney's map. I sent another."

The grey-haired man holding a large chart beside the red head winced, "This morning?"

"Yes."

"That explains it," the other woman, a sand-smeared blond, dropped the measuring stick and hurried towards the buckets, "We came down early. Must've missed the e-mail." Scrambling down off the sandbank, the others quickly joined her in dismantling the wall, "We'll have these moved in a jiffy."

Unperturbed by the delay, Major Sheppard paced forward a few steps and watched the frantic disassembly curiously, "So… What're you guys up to?" Glancing at Zelenka, he added, "I assume this was our next stop?"

"Our last stop, actually."

Propping an empty bucket on a drift under an open tarp, the red head grabbed another and set it by the first, "We're hunting for bottom feeders."

Turning to the security escort, Dr. Zelenka addressed the wraith, "They're the advance team I mentioned."

"The ones predicting the location of fish…" Hissing softly, Steve stepped forward and clasped his hands against his stomach, pale face stretching out over the heads of the marines. "How are they doing it?" Nostrils flaring, he inhaled deeply and expelled an explosive chuff, "From their scent, they have succeeded."

Grabbing the last bucket, the red head paused, "Did he say we smell like fish?"

"That's what it sounded like," Sheppard replied. Though how the wraith could distinguish one stink from the others, he hadn't a clue. The fish rot odor had been growing steadily ever since they entered the 'messy' section. It was building even with all the tarps open. Frankly, he was surprised Steve hadn't complained yet.

The bucket plunked down beside the others, "Sadly, I suppose it's true…"

The older man nodded, "We are the Fish Finders."

"Not again!" the blond's eyes rolled, "We don't need a name."

"Not even Pisces Trio?"

An irritated finger leveled warningly at the man, "Don't even start, Colin."

The Major's voice cut off Colin's reply, "That's enough, people!"

The playful argument quieted instantly.

With the corridor now clear of buckets, Sheppard signaled Bates to bring the prisoner. The scientists climbed onto the sandbank, crowding against the outer wall to make room, and the Major leapt up to join them. He experienced a childish flash of smugness as Zelenka and the escort filed by. There was something oddly satisfying about being able to look down at the tall wraith instead of up, for once…

Sparing Sheppard a disinterested, upward glance, Steve's olive eyes darted across the three new faces with intense curiosity while he stalked through the slick, valley-like mudpack nestled between the hall's sand drifts. Coat panels swaying as he scented the air, he shifted his focus to one of the white plastic buckets, which was lying askew with its contents easily visible. Following his suddenly intent gaze, Sheppard immediately wished it was upright, "Okay. THAT"S disgusting."

"Uncooked fish guts usually are, Sir," Private Sheere muttered.

The scientist next to the bucket righted it as Steve's lips twitched with an inquisitive chuff, "The bottom feeders…" Snorting dismissively, he moved on, murmuring, "Already searched." Not asking for permission, Steve stopped when he reached the abandoned measuring stick and began eyeing the white-string grid laid out around it. "You expect to find more here," Sniffing primly, he turned his oval pupils towards the precariously balanced Fish Finders again, "Why?"

"'Cause their models say so," Sergeant Bates barked, "Now move along."

The wraith aimed an irritated hiss at Atlantis's Security Chief, but stalked quickly to the intersection, allowing the wall-hugging scientists to slither back to the floor.

Once both groups, along with a couple buckets and a pair of suspicious-looking cream cheese containers, were congregated in the nearby intersection, Dr. Zelenka performed introductions. "Dr. Colin Kovskii," he gestured to the man, "Our resident Oceanographer. He constructed a model of the currents that were present here when Atlantis rested on the ocean floor."

Dr. Kovskii nodded at the wraith, "Pleased to meet you."

Staring over Private Laris at him, Steve snorted sharply, but did not reply.

"And this is Dr. Jessi Moore," Zelenka indicated the blond this time, "A Marine Biologist." The sand spattered woman gave the wraith a smile. "She's been using her knowledge of fish behavior to identify suitable habitats on Dr. Kovskii's maps."

"Bottom feeders generally prefer still, quiet waters for resting," Moore offered.

Steve snorted again, but was otherwise silent, eyes already drifting the red head.

Unnerved by his apparent disinterest, Zelenka hastily took the cue, "That is Dr. Mira Sheckle. Trying this method was uhh… her idea in the first place."

Dr. Sheckle nodded, getting the expected snort in return.

Without taking his olive eyes off the woman, Steve's face swung towards Zelenka, "What is her specialty?"

The multi-toned bark took the Czech by surprise, "I'm sorry?"

Translucent teeth bared briefly in a hiss, "Her specialty. You named the others'. Oceanographer. Marine Biologist… What is her specialty?"

Radek shifted uncomfortably, "She, uhh… Doesn't have one?"

The wraith exhaled with a disbelieving chuff, "Doesn't have one?"

"I'm an interdisciplinary scientist," Dr. Sheckle interrupted. Steve cocked his head, blinking curiously. "I don't focus on any one, specific field."

"A Jack of All Trades," interjected Sheppard.

Sheckle glanced at the Major, clearly amused, and added, "But a Master of None." Her attention returned to the wraith, "My job is to identify potential connections between fields. Then I put together teams capable of investigating them."

Steve hissed, studying Dr. Sheckle musingly, "Your kind find this necessary?"

"Yes," Sheckle shrugged, "Our science has advanced so far that traditional scientists routinely miss inter-field connections because of their narrow focus. It's too much information for one person to keep track of constantly."

"Unless you're Rodney," Major Sheppard quipped.

Ceding the point, Dr. Sheckle grinned wryly, "Unless you're Rodney."

Steve recaptured Sheckle's attention with an eerie, throat-rattling hiss, "So… You are trained in pattern recognition."

She fingered the cream cheese container she was holding thoughtfully, "I suppose… In a sense. Yes. That's correct."

"A useful skill…" Pushing his ivory hair back, the wraith blinked dismissively and turned to Dr. Kovskii, "You believe this corridor contained suitable resting habitat for the species you're searching for?"

"Uh-uh," Kovskii jerked his head at Dr. Moore, who was holding the other cream cheese container. Taking his cue, she lifted the small tub and shook it. A familiar rattling sound came from the grey plastic. "We KNOW it contained suitable habitat," his grey head bobbed towards a bucket, "We've found five already."

Moore added proudly, "Got six beads out of the piggy bunch."

Ignoring the container, Steve folded his arms delicately across his stomach and fixed his olive gaze on the indicated bucket. A soft hiss, "May I see them?"

Sheppard startled, "You wanna see dead fish?"

The wraith didn't acknowledge his comment. Unsure whether they should comply, the scientists glanced at one another. Seconds stretched …

Finally, the Major shrugged, "Sure. Why not," he leveled a finger at Steve warningly, "Just don't blame me if it smells bad."

Stepping back a pace, Steve narrowed his eyes as Kovskii leaned past Private Sheere to deposit the white bucket within the security perimeter. After the man withdrew, he swept forward and dropped into an elegantly smooth crouch.

Major Sheppard suppressed a grimace as the wraith's ungloved fingers dipped into the plastic coffin and emerged, wrapped around a limp, obviously rotten, fish. It looked, (vaguely), like one of those little fish tank suckerfish. Only twice as long, and spinier, with silver scales instead of spotted brown… He could see a flat, oval mouth peeking out over the wraith's thumb. Easily big enough to suck a bead up…

The bottom feeder's tail flopped lifelessly against the hard leather of Steve's forearm bracer as he turned the carcass over and ran his cheeks over it. Tattered fins dangled uselessly on either side of his hand, revealing a gutted underbelly.

Grossed out, Sheppard grimaced in disbelief as Steve balanced the corpse on his palm and swung his face over it, inhaling deeply, "Uh, Steve…? What are you doing?"

Sergeant Bates's stoney expression twisted in disgust, "He's smelling it, Sir."

"I can see that," the Major paused, "What I wanna know is why…" Why the wraith would willingly subject his sensitive olfactory passages to a viciously pungent, point-blank assault was beyond Sheppard at the moment…

With an explosive snort and a wet smack, the bottom feeder slapped down into the bucket, rejoining its dead compatriots. Steve swept smoothly to his feet, lips drawing back in a long, sinus-clearing hiss, "Where else do you expect to find them?"

Fumbling for his chart, Kovskii absently muttered, "Well… We finished burrowing into the ventilation shafts earlier…"

Helping him unroll the chart, Dr. Sheckle added, "We're working on corners and stagnant water. Places that were shielded from the currents by drifts…"

Steve pressed close to Private Laris, peering over her head at the chart and breathing lightly through his mouth, "How far down are they found?"

Dr. Moore answered, "Not too far," she glanced hesitantly at Zelenka, who nodded, letting her know it was okay to explain. "The specimens we're finding were buried by shifting that occurred when the city rose. Usually under four or five inches."

Paper crinkled as Kovskii tapped his chart, "The next one is six yards or so beyond this cross-corridor."

Hissing quietly, the wraith drifted to the other side of the security circle and began surveying the sand-choked hallway, multi-tonal voice echoing, "Show me."

"Say 'Please' first."

Olive eyes skewering Sheppard disdainfully, Steve curled his upper lip with distaste, "Why…?"

"'Cause you're a guest," the Major lifted a mocking eyebrow, "And you're getting a little bossy."

A derisive snort, "Am I to ask permission for everything?"

Mirroring the prisoner's disbelieving pose, Sheppard cocked his head flippantly, "When it involves MY people doing what YOU want. Yes."

Eyes narrowing, the wraith lifted his chin haughtily, "Such practices are an unnecessary waste of time."

"Oh, really?" Zelenka and the Fish Finders exchanged uneasy glances as Major Sheppard stepped close to the escort, "Ya got somewhere you need to be after this?"

Steve froze, oval-pupils scrutinizing his captor minutely. A tense silence stretched… Then he angled his face away, gaze flicking to the wall. "No…"

Mollified, Sheppard nodded at Bates and backed off, watching to see what the wraith would do. Hopefully the 'we aren't minions' hint had been received.

After considering the wall a moment, Steve turned to face their guide. "Dr. Zelenka. Would you, please," he hissed the word distastefully, "ask your subordinates to show me the site of their next excavation?" Not waiting for a response, he curled his neck away, swinging back towards the Major for approval.

Well… It was a start…. Resisting an urge to laugh at the blatant lip service, Major Sheppard met the challengingly green stare without blinking. "Good enough."

The wraith's posture visibly relaxed.

"For now."

Pale lips twitched with poorly hidden irritation.

Seeing as the point of the exercise was getting Steve to think about his manners, not to change them immediately, Sheppard addressed Zelenka, "Should we show 'im?"

Startled, the Czech shrugged, "Um, I do not see why not?"

He nodded to Kovskii, and a mucky scramble ensued as the scientists skirted the security escort and began leading the way down the hall. Steve scented the air while he walked, observing the Fish Finders with interest. Stopping by a dip in the outer wall's sand drift, Dr. Kovskii consulted the chart a moment, then muttered something to Dr. Sheckle, who leaned over and traced an irregular circle in the silt.

Kovskii turned, gesturing to the outlined dip, "This is it."

Sheppard led the procession a few yards further on, allowing the surrounded wraith to get close to the site. Everyone watched as the alien bent to examine it.

Steve's ivory hair brushed the sand as he lowered his face and sampled the air above the drift, just like he'd done with the fish… Snorting loudly, he dropped to one knee and announced, "Your prediction is accurate. A bottom feeder lies here."

There was a wet Thwack! followed by a damp, sucking noise.

Before the nearest marine could react, Steve's ungloved hand was reemerging from the sand in one side of the circle, clutching a silt-smeared fish.

The security escort stared.

The scientists stared.

…Major Sheppard stared…

…

Seemingly oblivious to the shock he'd caused, Steve dropped the bottom feeder by the new pit and stood, delicately shaking sand from his hand, "Where is the next one?"

Okaaayyy, then… Sheppard eyed the wraith with exaggerated wariness. "I suppose, after yesterday," he slowly quipped, "I shouldn't have been surprised by that."

Olive irises fixed unreadably on him. "No… You should not."

"Umm…" Dr. Kovskii was studying his chart again, "There!" He jabbed a finger against the paper, and Dr. Moore took off down the corridor, excitedly stopping by another dip. She marked it with a little 'X' instead of a circle.

The tour caught up to her, and Steve's actions of a minute earlier were repeated.

Dr. Sheckle darted away and they were repeated again.

And again.

And again…

Soon Dr. Moore and Dr. Sheckle were scouting ahead of the tour, identifying spots one after another so the wraith didn't have to stop between holes. Leaving a trail of sad-looking corpses and churned sand in his wake, Steve plunged his hand into the marked drifts, each time unerringly pulling out a dead fish. (Sometime two or three…)

They finished the hallway in minutes and moved onto the next.

By the time they'd finished the second hall and started down a third, Major Sheppard could deny it no longer. The wraith was a bloodhound…

"Your model is incomplete," the multi-tonal bark reverberated accusingly as Steve stopped to extract a bottom feeder from an unmarked drift.

"Sorry," walking backwards, Dr. Kovskii studied his chart with puzzlement.

Sheppard amended his assessment. The wraith was a 'Damn Good' bloodhound…

Suddenly his radio crackled to life, "Dr. Beckett to Major Sheppard."

He tapped his earpiece, "Sheppard, here. Go ahead, Carson."

"Are ye still on the tour?"

The urgency in his tone stopped the Major in his tracks, "Yeah, why?"

Beckett's relief was audible, "I need to speak to the prisoner immediately."

A few yards away, Steve froze over Dr. Moore's next 'X,' listening intently.

Noting the pause, Sheppard frowned internally, cursing their captive's keen hearing, "He's a little busy at the moment."

Carson's confusion crackled, "Busy doin' wha'?"

"Digging up fish."

"This is more important than a few fillets, Major. It's about the hard-drive."

"Oh. Well. If it's about the hard-drive…" Signaling Sergeant Bates to stop the tour, Major Sheppard squelched up to Steve. Feigning obliviousness to his captor's approach, the wraith shoved his hand into the thick silt and dragged out a bottom feeder, which he proceeded to examine with extreme, and hitherto unmatched, interest.

Sheppard resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "Hey, Steve."

No response.

"Carson wants to speak with ya." Not waiting for acknowledgement, Sheppard pulled his earpiece off and chucked it at the ivory, fish-sniffing head.

With a leather Snap! the gloved feeding hand shot up and delicately snagged the radio in midair. Shooting the Major a reproachful glare, Steve turned the fragile device over and ran his cheeks past it, eyeing it curiously from every angle. After a few moments, he finally lifted it to his mouth. Holding the mike several inches out from his skin, he hissed into it, keeping the tiny speaker well away from his ear.

"Dr. Beckett… You wish to speak with me?"

Carson's tinny reply squeaked from the wraith's fingers, "Aye, ah do! The hard-drive's expellin' threads o' black tissue. The waste tank's full o' the stuff."

A quietly expelled chuff, "You wish to know if this is normal?"

"Aye! An' wha' tha' stuff is. It doesn' look good."

With a snort, Steve slid his olive irises towards Sheppard, obviously deciding whether or not he wanted to answer. The Major narrowed his gaze warningly.

"Steve? Are ye there?"

After what seemed an interminably long silence, the wraith abruptly refocused on the radio. "The threads are neural filaments," his resonant tone was unconcerned, "The hard-drive's terminal interface was severed during extraction."

"When ye cut the nutrient tubes, ye mean?"

"Yesss… Without the console's life support, they are unable to survive. The drive is merely expelling them before they turn toxic."

Carson's voice crackled with relief, "So the phenomenon is normal."

"Yesss," Steve paused, hissing. Then added, "An expulsion this quickly is a sign of satisfactory recovery."

"So it's a healthy thing?"

An irritated chuff, "That is what I said."

"Just makin' sure." There was a burst of static as someone muttered something in the background. Then… "Thank ye, Steve. I appreciate it. Beckett out."

The radio crackled off.

Voice deliberately casual, Major Sheppard caught the earpiece as it whizzed back towards his head. "Neural filaments, huh?"

Ignoring the implied inquiry, Steve dropped a second bottom feeder by the hole, (this one tailless), and rose smoothly to his feet. "I am ready to continue."

"As in… neural tissue?" wheedled Sheppard, "Brain stuff…? Grey matter?"

Olive eyes speared him, "Yesss… As I told your Carson, the expulsion is normal."

"Just checking." Signaling Bates, Sheppard got the tour moving again.

The fish extraction restarted…

Two corridors later, it stopped as quickly as it'd begun. A wall of rotting fish odor, twice as strong as any they'd encountered so far, rolled over everyone as they turned a corner. Marines gagged and lifted arms to their mouths, Zelenka and the scientists covered their noses with resigned disgust, and Sheppard…

Sheppard grimaced and choked while trying not to laugh as Steve lunged sideways and pressed his face to the nearest hole in the wall.

"I can find nothing in this!"

"I don't remember it being this bad," Zelenka apologized.

"It wasn't," Dr. Kovskii muttered, "This built up when we closed the tarps. Fifteen minutes ago, it was much worse."

"It hasn't finished dissipating yet," added Moore.

Dr. Sheckle nodded her agreement.

Sergeant Bates shot his superior a pointed glance, "Maybe we should stop, Sir."

"No!" Drawing in a deep breath of fresh air from the crack he'd found, Steve rounded on Major Sheppard accusingly, "This tour is not finished."

Amused and surprised, Sheppard studied the wraith, "But it's almost done." He glanced inquiringly at Zelenka, who nodded in confirmation.

"There're only a few rooms left. Ones we have not been in."

"And we weren't planning on stopping at any of 'em," Sheppard added.

With a warning hiss, Steve straightened while smoothing his coat, "Nevertheless…" amber glimmered on the glove's wrist as he lifted his chin, "I wish to view my deceased brethren's workplace in its entirety."

My deceased brethren? That was new. First their captive was vexed by the presence of a second, living wraith in the city. Now he claimed kinship with a long-dead one. Nose buried in his sleeve, the Major hid his curiosity carefully. Maybe it had something to do with the whole 'masked' wraith vs. 'non-masked' thing…

"What's the verdict, Sir?" Bates pressed.

Steve snorted softly, staring down his nose at Sheppard, who met the daringly expectant, olive gaze with deliberate nonchalance.

Of course, the word choice could merely be an attempt to lend weight to the wraith's argument. Not that it mattered… Sheppard wasn't about to undermine Steve's trust over THIS technicality any more than he'd been over Rodney's last night.

He lifted an eyebrow, "You're the one with 'fog' issues. Not me."

Ivory hair rippled across black shoulders as Steve gave an abbreviated nod, murmuring, "A visual examination will be sufficient."

"Good," Sheppard had no intention of sticking around in this stench longer than necessary. That included waiting for it to dissipate more.

They continued on, minus the Fish Finders who hastily excused themselves under the pretense of cataloguing and de-beading all the bottom feeders Steve had unearthed.

Again, Dr. Zelenka's brief forecast proved accurate. There wasn't much lab left. Two rooms, choked so thickly with seaweed, it was no wonder nobody had tackled them yet. (Steve peered into these with blatant disbelief.) And a 'T' intersection, which led to a room filled with chest high sand drifts, and two silt-packed dead ends.

Correction. One silt-packed dead end.

Major Sheppard paused, idly kicking a drying dune while the wraith poked his face into what Zelenka had dubbed the Sand Trap. "I take it, that leads to your giant octopus…?" His thumb jerked back up the corridor.

Following his gaze, Dr. Zelenka glanced down the other branch of the intersection, where a large window, (an actual window, not a hole), and the dim shadow of a doorway could be seen. "Uh, yes. That is the smell's source. Though I must remind you, octopus is just a theory. It could be a big fish. Or a mammal—"

"Or a giant octi-crab."

Zelenka looked uncomfortable, "Yes, uh… Or a giant octi-crab…"

"Well, I'll just take a peek," leaving the escort to catch up when Steve was satisfied, the Major returned to the 'T' and paced over to the window. The ocean's choppy waves glistened in the morning sun, spraying walls with salty mist as they crashed against Atlantis's jetties and piers…

He tapped the salt-stained glass, calling, "Why is this window fine when everything else is full of holes?"

Torn as to whether or not he should leave the escort, Zelenka answered, "It's reinforced, specially designed to withstand space travel."

Sheppard frowned, not buying it, "More so than the metal?"

"And it's non-conductive?" the Czech shrugged, "We're not sure, honestly."

That made more sense… "Anyway to open it?"

"Not that we've found, unfortunately."

Too bad… Sheppard suspected it would've helped with the smell a lot. Drawing away from the mysteriously strong portal, he poked his head into the last hall.

Laden with almost as much sand build-up as the Sand Trap, the corridor stretched for half a dozen yards or so before taking a sharp turn to the right. Signs of exploration were few. No smileys, no grids traced on the mudpack… A single, solitary line of footprints trudged alongside a natural-looking trench that cut through the silt…

"Looks like a lot of water drained from here."

"Yes, quite a bit," Zelenka was at his elbow, the security escort not far behind, "the room at the end is very large, we believe."

Sheppard glanced at the frazzle-haired scientist skeptically, "You believe?"

"Well, we cannot see it. It's very dark. Black. And the doors—"

"May I see it?" Steve hissed.

"—are stuck," Zelenka looked at the wraith in surprise. The lean, black-coated alien was breathing through his mouth, eyeing the corridor with interest. "There is nothing to see yet. We can't get in. No one has—"

"If there is nothing to see, there is no harm in my viewing it."

Zelenka waffled, "I suppose that's true…"

Major Sheppard stared at Steve suspiciously. The room was the source of the putrid stench, and he wanted to get closer to it?! How did that figure? "You DO realize this awful smell's coming from there, right?"

"Yessss…"

In denial of what he was hearing, Sheppard sniffed the air and grimaced exaggeratedly, "I'd think you of all people would want to avoid this room the most!"

No response. Olive eyes studied him in enigmatic silence.

Enigmatic, STUBBORN, silence…

The Major's eyes narrowed. "Fine!" he leveled a finger at the black-clad chest warningly, "You wanna be a masochist? Go ahead. Just don't blame me when your nostrils fall off!"

An amused chuff, "I doubt such an eventuality is likely…"

I doubt such an— Sheppard rolled his eyes in disbelief, "Whatever." He nodded at Bates, who grimaced, and then turned to Zelenka, "Let's get this over with."

He strode purposefully into the hall, boots squelching deeply in the thick mudpack. Dr. Zelenka followed more cautiously, wearing an expression of bland resignation, and the security escort trailed in after him, seven watchful faces flinching with stoically hidden disgust as the wall of stench rolled over them…

The wraith continued breathing through his mouth, olive irises darting warily to either side, as if the odor were an enemy in need of constant monitoring.

Reaching the bend, Sheppard planted his feet in the damp trench and looked round the corner. The hallway went on a good, thirty feet or so, before ending in an ancient, kelp-draped door. Sand climbed almost to the top of its weedy frame, and the gully he was in cut into the massive drift like a knife, narrowing the further in it went. A thin, vertical line of inky blackness sliced the entire obstacle in two, telling Sheppard the way was partially open. (And that water had poured from it…)

The footprints he'd been tailing in the silt stopped halfway up the dune…

"Someone had fun walking backwards," he muttered.

"That was Lieutenant Ford," Zelenka offered, "He stuck a camera in."

"Really? And ya still couldn't see anything?"

"No. As I said. Dark."

"Well. I'll just hafta bring a light then," Motioning for Sergeant Bates to wait, Sheppard went on ahead, unshouldering and switching on the lamp of his P-90. The huge dune started gathering several yards from the door. He scaled it boldly. Drying sand, broken shells, and gooey plant bits sucked at his boots, shifting and squishing under his knees and free hand as he climbed up to crouch beside the algae-smeared barrier. Avoiding the fragile-looking sand-cliffs that marked the beginning of the trench, he leaned over and peered into the space between the two halves of the stuck door.

Nothing. Dark, just like Zelenka had said.

Wait. Was that a wet glimmer on the floor?

…

His body was blocking the corridor's light…

Pulling back, Major Sheppard poked the flashlight attachment of his gun into the finger-length crack and tried again.

…

Wow. That was unhelpful.

He sat back on his haunches, grimacing. Beyond the stuck doorway was—surprise, surprise, wonder of wonders—another corridor. Which continued for ANOTHER thirty or so feet before turning sharply to the left.

And was flooded by a foot of decay ridden seawater…

…

Sheppard looked again.

Make that a foot and a half…

…

…Of liquid that ONCE was seawater…

…

Ew.

Oh, well. At least they didn't have to walk in it…

He climbed down from the drift and rejoined the security escort in the bend, eyeing Zelenka meaningfully, "It's big in there, isn't it?"

A wry shrug was the scientist's reply, "There is considerable square footage of this building's footprint unaccounted for, yes."

Peering over Sergeant Bates, Steve cocked his ivory head, "What did you see, Major?"

Sheppard was deliberately vague, "A whole lot of nothing. Stinky, unenlightening, nothing." The wraith chuffed suspiciously. "But don't take MY word for it," he added. (The part of Sheppard that Weir regularly labeled childish REALLY wanted to see Steve's face when he got a whiff of that water.) "Go see for yourself."

Eyes not leaving his captor's, Steve inclined his face slightly, "Very well…"

Scooting aside, the Major pulled Zelenka over and signaled the escort. With sand-hindered efficiency, the marines advanced a few paces and split their perimeter open, ejecting the prisoner into the silt-choked corridor to roam freely.

The wraith hesitated a moment, as if having second thoughts… Then he stalked slowly into the corridor. Black leather swished and scraped across the sand, trailing shallow furrows in his wake. Halfway to the door, he paused.

Sheppard frowned as Steve glanced back. A look of startled confusion had flickered briefly on the pale face… Or was it nauseous indigestion?

Course, it could've been wishful thinking on Sheppard's part…

No wait. Was it possible the wraith was sensitive enough to actually find the powerful odor physically disorienting…? THAT was worth exploring.

Beside his pensive superior, Bates studied the deep drift beyond the wraith dubiously, "Want us to follow, Sir? He's out of easy retrieval range."

"Nah, let him have some space. It's basically a dead-end."

Still stopped in the middle of the corridor, Steve wrapped his arms over his stomach and straightened, lifting his chin in a meditation pose. Olive eyes slipping closed, he held perfectly still for a few seconds.

"What's he doing?" Zelenka whispered.

Used to the captive's unpredictable freeze episodes by now, (though a bit resentful of the timing of this one), Sheppard grunted absently, "No idea."

Ivory strands slid down Steve's chest as he lowered his face, exhaling an eerily pervasive hiss. The noise permeated the corridor, resonating in the stifling atmosphere until it seemed impossible for his lungs to have any breath left.

As the spine-tingling sound finally faded, Steve lifted his face to the ceiling once more. Eyes still shut, he stood, frozen, for a single, drawn-out, suspense-filled instant…

Then he closed his mouth.

Naaawww… He wasn't gonna—Yes, he was!

Major Sheppard stared in disbelief as the prisoner inhaled deeply through his nose, sampling the fetid aroma for the first time since the Fish Finders left. It seemed his masochist comment earlier hadn't been too far off the mark.

"That, I was not expecting," Zelenka muttered.

"Me neither…"

They watched as Steve shuddered and winced and held the breath, faceted shoulders visibly tensing.

"You okay, Steve?" tested Sheppard.

No response…

The marines exchanged glances…

Just when the Major was wondering whether the wraith was gonna pass out from lack of oxygen, the taut posture relaxed and Steve began expelling a rapid series of explosive, sinus-cleansing chuffs. He dropped his head until the spasms passed. Then shook himself. Olive eyes fluttered open, flicking about in unfocused confusion.

Not JUST confusion... Confusion mixed with—

Experiencing a twinge of uneasiness, Sheppard attempted to read the unguarded, kaleidoscopic expression. Was it bewilderment? Astonishment? Consternation?

…All of the above?…

Whatever it was, he doubted it was good.

"What'd you smell, Steve?"

The mock-warning note brought the wraith back to reality. Steve glanced disdainfully at his captors and gave a final chuff, enigmatic masked snapping back into place as if it'd never left. "What do YOU smell, Major Sheppard?"

Sheppard's eyes narrowed, "I asked first."

"So you did…" a low hiss.

Silence stretched…

Resisting the urge to glare angrily, Major Sheppard relented. The stench issuing from the stuck doors was severely dampening his tolerance for wraith power games.

"I smell rot," he announced coldly.

Mimicking his tone, Steve spun away with another hiss, "As do I, Major Sheppard." Coat panels flapping and rustling, he strode purposefully for the dune.

Watching the wraith climb the steep drift with a single elegant, graceful leap, Zelenka glanced at Sheppard, perplexed, "What was that about?"

"Damned if I know—Hey! Easy on the weeds!"

Ignoring the reprimand, Steve dropped the seaweed he'd ripped from the left side of the doorframe and dug his ungloved hand into the silt piled against it, scooping several handfuls off the drift. The hard angles of a crystal control box peeked from beneath his pale fingers as they brushed sand off the newly exposed metal with interest.

"We didn't bring you down here to excavate the place!"

"Were you aware this door has extra security features, Dr. Zelenka?"

Zelenka glanced apologetically at Sheppard before nodding, "Yes. The width of the casing's top suggested an extra crystal slot."

The wraith's hands were running across the door now, "Yet you choose to remain ignorant of what lies beyond…"

Looking flustered, the Czech hastily tried to explain, "The smell is not the only reason we haven't—"

"What other reason is there?" Steve's cheeks joined his hands, performing deft passes over the algae-smeared metal. He paused with his orifices over the crack.

"Uh… A very good reason, actually."

With an ambiguous chuff, the wraith peered into the narrow opening. Then he inserted his fingers into the thin space.

Sheppard wondered if he could make out the water in the dim light…

"Sir…" Sergeant Bates glanced at his superior warningly.

"Yeah, I see it." Steve was methodically testing the doors. "They're jammed pretty good. I doubt we need to worry abou—"

SCREEEEEEEECHHH—UUUUUNNNK!!!

The wraith leaned out over the flooded corridor.

"You were saying, Sir?"

Crap. No more dead-end. Lunging forward, Major Sheppard pushed through the security escort and slogged back into the deepening sand, "That's enough, Steve—"

SPLASH!

Double crap!! "Dammit!! STAY where you are!"

Scrambling after the Major, Zelenka blinked in astonishment as the wraith's lithe form vanished behind the tall drift, "Oh, my."

Stunners up, the escort rushed down the hall and up the massive mudpack, slipping and stumbling in the unstable footing. They clattered to a sand-scattering halt behind Sheppard and thrust their weapons into the corridor, angling them past Dr. Zelenka's startled shoulders. The Czech gaped at the silvery swarm of too-close, organic muzzles in disbelief as Sheppard's fist shot up in a 'hold' sign.

"Everyone, let's stay calm."

Ignoring Sergeant Bates's trademark, 'I warned you this might happen,' stare, Sheppard swung his P-90's light into the shadows, seeking out the wraith.

Ah, there he was… "Whatcha doin', Steve?"

No answer. Feigning obliviousness to the chaos his casual feat of super-human strength and sudden disappearance had caused, Steve crouched calmly in the hall…

Not standing in the hall. Crouching! In that fetid water!

Sheppard resisted the urge to gag at the thought.

"THAT…" grimaced Zelenka, "is the REAL reason we haven't gone in yet…"

Still showing no sign that he'd noticed his captors, the wraith leaned down and dipped his ungloved fingers into the foul liquid. The P-90's white glare glistened on ripples as he swirled them in a wide arc and brought them, dripping, to his face.

Surveying the recently exposed mess from atop the sand barrier, Dr. Zelenka sighed, "I suppose I should call pump team down… Get them to start draining—"

"No!" Rising smoothly to his feet, Steve spun to face him, thumb and forefinger poised by the orifice of his left cheek, "This liquid is rich in the nutrients required to sustain the hard-drive. It should be harvested." His olive eyes flicked to Major Sheppard, "Your Carson said you have limited resources…"

"Not that limited," Suspecting an attempt to gain leverage, Sheppard lifted a mocking eyebrow, "Let me guess. You know just how to harvest it."

Instead of the expected, smugly hissed, "Yesss," the wraith exhaled an absent chuff and went back to examining the liquid on his fingers, "My aide is not required for such a task…" Confusion, like Sheppard had noticed earlier, flitted across his features before slowly morphing into something unreadable.

Raining glistening droplets onto the stagnant, putrid water, Steve abruptly dropped his hand to his side and snapped his focus to the dark corridor.

Balanced on the edge of the drift, Major Sheppard tensed, not liking the determined spark that'd flashed in Steve's eyes. "Okay, fun's over—"

Splashes echoed hollowly in the enclosed space as Steve began striding purposefully towards the next bend in the hall.

Triple crap! Sheppard should've seen that coming. Eyeing the flooded floor with disgust, he quickly weighed options. Follow the wraith and manhandle him out, everyone gets wet. Stun the wraith and drag his unconscious carcass out, everyone STILL gets wet. Dammit! In denial of the disgusting inevitable, he stared after the retreating, leather-trailing back and desperately tried a generic, never-works, sure-to-fail option three, "Hey! Where do you think YOU'RE going?!"

Ivory swayed as the wraith expelled a sharp snort, "Forward, Major. Where else?"

"Get back here!"

A smug hiss, "I think not…"

Well, it was worth a try. Grimacing, Sheppard peered down the chest-high drop-off, deciding on the best way down. "Aww… This is gonna suck."

"Want us to stun him, Sir?" Bates had no qualms about dragging Steve out.

The Major looked at him seriously, "You wanna explain to Carson how our wraith got seaweed and rotting fish fins in his lungs?"

The Security Chief frowned, "Not particularly, Sir."

"Well, neither do I," Sheppard grabbed the doorframe and crouched. Best to take the plunge in one fell swoop and get it over with, "Besides, Steve's damn heavy." He dropped onto the flooded floor with a loud SPLOOSSHH! Cold closed around his knees, quickly soaking through his pants and into his boots.

Having reached the next bend, Steve looked back at the noise.

Infusing his voice with firmness and command, Sheppard caught the wraith's eye and jogged towards him, barking, "WAIT RIGHT THERE!"

Pausing for a single, magical instant as if he might actually be considering obeying the order, Steve tilted his face to one side and drew his lips back in a pleasure-filled smile. His hiss whispered mockingly through the darkness. "Nooo…"

"Excuse me?!" Sheppard poured on the speed, forcing back the urge to gag as unidentifiable blobs brushed and bobbed against his shins. Shells crunched underfoot. Water-saturated silt sucked at his soles, sliding him off balance one moment, then refusing to release him the next. Steve's white hair fluttered in the darkness, and vanished round the bend, and a chorus of splashes told Sheppard that the security escort was joining the pursuit. And that the wraith was speeding up…

Aw, Hell… Wraith were fast. Damn fast. If there wasn't a real dead-end up ahead, they could be in serious trouble.

"STEVE! When I get ahold of you, it's not gonna be pretty!" Sheppard rounded the corner only to see a black, putridly rippling trail of liquid nothingness. "If you don't stop THIS INSTANT, you can KISS your hard won privileges goodbye!"

The splashing up ahead miraculously stopped.

Sheppard barreled onward. The liquid nothingness opened out, spilling from the corridor into an equally black, equally putrid, but incredibly massive-feeling space that managed to give the contradictory impression of being both extremely full and eerily empty. He floundered for several disorienting seconds, flashing his P-90's light about to find the wraith, only to discover him standing in a pool of ripples, a few yards off to one side of the room's entrance. Sheppard had overshot him.

Backtracking, he pulled out his pistol stunner and trained it on the prisoner irritably, "Steve? What the HELL was that?"

Oval-pupils, reflecting the light of his P-90, glanced his way before sweeping over his head. Chuffing softly, Steve resumed his intent study of the dark room.

Not amused, Sheppard stalked closer, "I asked you a questio—"

"I told you, I smelled rot, Major Sheppard." Ignoring the weapon pointed at his chest, Steve stared into the light-swallowing shadows with an expression of mild bafflement, "The rot in this room smells…" His multi-tonal voice slowed. Olive eyes fixed on Sheppard's blue orbs meaningfully, "Different…" Ivory swayed as Steve nodded once and earnestly added, "From everywhere else…"

Oh, really? Rot that was different from all the other rot. "Different how?"

Blinking, the wraith swung his pale face away and stared into the darkness once more. Feeling distinctly irked, Sheppard cast his P-90's light about, taking in the scenery while Sergeant Bates and the security escort belatedly piled in behind him.

His eyes widened as he realized what he was seeing. Pivoting in place, he played the beam slowly across the far corners of the room.

Sheppard gave a low whistle, "That ain't no octopus…"

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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.

As we're getting further into the plot, I'll now add a three to this list.

3. Making the new and different, (and/or bizarre), things that happen seem realistic and believable.