“The Unkindest Cut” (1/5) [sickness challenge]
Title: “The Unkindest Cut” (1/5)
Authors: Everybetty and Kristen999
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Through season 2. Specifically “Conversion”
Challenge: Sickness
Length: 24,400 words
Summary: CAUTION: The Pegasus Galaxy contains many dangers. Like football, giant space ostriches, and sharp edges.
Genre: H/C and Humor.
Notes: Made it in by the skin of our teeth! Want to thank the mods for extending the deadline. Once we heard about this challenge, Beth and I could not resist temptation.
“So explain to me again, why a scientist is needed to visit a planet that has no science?” Rodney huffed as he fought with the sleeve of his grey uniform jacket.
“Sounds like someone woke up on the wrong side of the laptop this morning,” was the reply from the pilot seat of the jumper.
Rodney paused in his struggle. “Laptop?”
John’s hand rose to mime a tic-tac-toe grid imprint on his own cheek. “You have ‘key face’ again.”
“Oh for…” Rodney’s fingers rubbed furiously at his cheek, leaving a hot red, mottled mark over the clear impression of typewriter keys branded into his skin.
“Jeez, McKay, didn’t you see it when you shaved this morning?”
“I didn’t”
“How’d you miss it?”
“No, I mean I didn’t shave this morning. I don’t have to shave every morning; it’s one of the benefits of being fair.”
“Fair? As many words as I could think of to describe you, Rodney, fair is not one of them.”
“What?” Rodney’s blue eyes grew wide as he framed his face with outstretched jazz hands. “This is fair.” An index finger poked alarmingly close to his eye as he gestured at it. “See? Blue eyes. Light hair. Fair!”
He dropped the brandished pointer slowly as the violence and absurdity of his actions seemed to dawn on him. “You’re just jealous, Mr. Ten AM Shadow,” he retorted.
Now it was John’s turn to raise a hand to rub thoughtfully at his jaw. As his thumb rasped over the roughness of his freshly shaven skin he decided he didn’t want to continue the argument anymore.
“A scientist is needed in case we FIND any science, McKay. Besides, our sensors picked up heat signatures of over 500 degrees.”
“Oh, good. They’ve discovered fire. At least we got THAT out of the way. Ah, Carson. So you’ll be joining us on this little visit back to the Neolithic?”
“Hello, Rodney,” Carson said with a sigh as he dropped his medical bag onto the floor next to the passenger bench. “And I’m told they’ve advanced a bit beyond rocks and spears.”
“Yes, I heard about the fire. Quite the development that,” Rodney muttered as he turned back around to poke at some of the buttons in front of him. A sidelong glare from the pilot stilled his hands.
“Thanks for letting me tag along, Colonel. I want to check out the local flora- especially for fruits. I think folks are getting a wee bit tired of the canned stuff between Daedalus runs.”
“Yes, and don’t think I haven’t noticed all that’s left is mandarin oranges, Carson. You know, maybe I would like some fruit on occasion. Would it be too much to ask for something of the non-citrus variety?” Rodney piped up once again, not bothering to turn his head to catch Carson rolling his eyes. “Probably come down with scurvy,” he mumbled.
“Och, Rodney, there’s still the peaches left you like. And I could always give you vitamin C shots if you’re worried?”
Rodney squirmed in his seat, then made a point of poking furiously at the buttons again.
John turned to smile broadly, almost evilly at Carson, then reached out a hand to still the physicist’s annoying fiddling. His finger raked across a slight burr in the metal of the instrument panel and he yanked it back with a small hiss, instantly popping the traumatized digit into his mouth.
“Oh, now that’s sanitary!” Rodney snorted.
“Wha-?” John said around the finger he continued to suck on. He pulled it out to show the teeniest amount of blood that could be shed and still be seen.
“What I don’t understand,” John continued, brandishing the moistened finger in front of Rodney’s face, “is how it happened? Didn’t your team work on this panel last?”
“If you hadn’t crashed the damn thing it wouldn’t have needed the work!” Rodney spluttered.
“It -- it was a rough landing- I don’t crash. AND it was because the time you fixed it BEFORE the -- rough landing-- someone crossed some of the wiring and I was flying with bad instruments, McKay!”
“But that time we wouldn’t have been fixing it if you hadn’t-”
“-Oh, for the love of …” Carson got up to stand between the two bickering men. “Colonel, let’s see the finger.”
“Doc, it’s a cut. A teeny tiny nothing cut. Look - already stopped bleeding, see?”
“Yes, it would appear saliva cures all ills, Carson. A shade better than the usual rattle shaking you medical people do, too,” Rodney said, folding his arms smugly.
“Yes, I’ll remember to try that next time you come wailin’ to me with your next gunshot wound, Rodney.” The rest of the words turned into Scots Gaelic and sounded completely foreign yet somehow obscene.
“Teyla. Ronon. Nice of you two to join us,” John said with a big grin as the last two members of his team entered the jumper, Ronon hauling the door shut behind him.
“Yes, Colonel. I’m sorry for the delay,” Teyla said with lowered eyes.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who overslept.”
“Actually, Dr. McKay, Ronon and I have been sparring since dawn.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Teyla insisted we shower before we boarded,” the Satedan grunted as he took a seat next to the Athosian.
“Well… thank you for that, Teyla,” John said smoothly, his hands moving in familiar patterns over the panel in front of him. “Okay, kids. Hands and feet inside the ride at all times. Let’s go see if we can find Rodney some science.”
__________________________________________________________________
There was no science to be found. There was a small village; thatch-roofed huts clustered around a large dirt clearing. The natives and the homes and the pack animals were all covered in a layer of tan dust that quickly caked on the skins of the team members. Rodney went through every wetnap in his pockets before finally conceding defeat.
The Mallomarans were intrigued by the appearance of five strangers in their midst but their stargate had allowed other traders through in the past so after greetings were exchanged and the men of the village puffed up their chests and flexed plow-strengthened bulging biceps while they sized up the team, they retired to the home of the woman who had first greeted them on their arrival.
Tiarna was a stout woman; blonde curly hair piled high on her head, loose strands plastered to her florid face. She had a babe in her arms and a toddler hiding behind her skirts who would pop out only long enough to insert a thumb into his mouth while he stared with huge brown eyes at the team before quickly ducking back.
“Ah, look, Colonel. It seems you and he have something in common,” Rodney said, gesturing his head towards the child.
“Colonel, if you don’t mind, I’d like to start my search now,” Carson broke in before the bantering of earlier could re-start.
“Sure, Doc. Why don’t you take Teyla and Ronon with you? Just in case.”
“I’d appreciate the company, Colonel.” He turned to address their hostess, waggling fingers at the face that had popped back out from behind her skirts. “Lass, would you be knowing of any place where fruits grow? Wild, or orchards if you have them. I’m sure we could work something out in trade…”
“Of course, doctor,” Tiarna replied as she set the baby down in a blanket covered woven basket. “We have both. The orchards are mostly our effort to control the harvest of the yupa. It grows all over the hills but it is easier to pick before the rains come with the trees closer to the village.”
“Wonderful!” Carson exclaimed with a wide grin. “I’d love to check out the domesticated and wild variants - if you don’t mind, of course.”
“No,” she said with an answering smile. “The gods provide more than we can eat in a thousand lifetimes. They are free for your taking.”
With the go ahead the doctor and the two warriors set off with baskets given to them in search of - yes, Rodney- non-citrus fruits.
John and Rodney took seats at the rough-hewn table in the small hut and made small talk with Tiarna while she bustled in front of a stove, shoving wood into the oven to feed the fire.
The boy, Japeth, took immediately to Rodney in the way that small kids and pets do to those who want nothing to do with them. When the physicist shoved the small boy back not too ungently a second time John darted a quick look at the oblivious mother, then poked a sharp elbow into Rodney’s side with a hiss and a forced smile. “Play nice, Rodney.”
Tiarna turned from the stove with a cast-iron skillet filled with what appeared to be scrambled eggs mixed with a variety of unfamiliar vegetables. “It’s not much, sirs, but it fills the stomach. I’d be obliged if you joined us for the midday meal.”
Rodney passed his gaze over the eggs, his stomach letting out a loud growl as the smell of a pleasant spice hit his nose.
Tiarna chuckled as she set the skillet down and grabbed up some clay thrown plates. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
She set out five plates, then paused and pulled out two more, laying them out around the table. She stepped to the open door and, leaning out, let loose a ululating cry that had John and Rodney raising eyebrows.
She returned without comment to the table and began ladling out portions, the skillet never seeming to empty, no matter how much she apportioned out.
Seconds later a man appeared. His clothing was rough; hand-sewn britches with leather straps criss-crossed over his broad chest. He leaned in to give Tiarna a peck on the cheek, then sat down without a word to the guests to begin shoveling eggs into his mouth.
Next arrived a teenage boy, a smaller version of the man who was obviously his father. Following behind him were a teenage girl in long skirts like her mother. The two teens stared with naked curiosity at John and Rodney, but otherwise were quiet but for the scraping of their utensils on the clay plates.
Tiarna settled herself into the last chair, the toddler on her knee, the babe in her arms, and she alternated prodding the smallest boy to eat and offering teensy bites of the egg concoction to the baby.
John looked at Rodney. Rodney looked at John. The two men shrugged and picked up their forks and dug in. The odd group ate in silence, the father finishing his first and, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, got up, ruffled the toddler’s hair and pointed a meaty finger at the plate in front of the child, kissed the baby and then his wife, and left without a single word having been uttered.
“Man gives Ronon a run for the title of strong silent type,” Rodney muttered through a mouth stuffed with eggs.
The teens finished up their meals soon after, leaving dirty plates behind to kiss their mother as they passed by her and left in the same quiet manner as their dad.
Tiarna blushed lightly. “The rains are coming,” she offered as explanation. “We have much preparation before then.”
Rodney just continued forking in his food, taking a brief pause to shove his food to the side of his mouth and mumble something about them being the best eggs he’d ever eaten.
It was John’s turn to blush in embarrassment for his friend’s unusual lack of table manners. “He got up too late for breakfast, Tiarna. He’s not normally… this bad.”
She nodded understandingly, then got up to start cleaning the mess left behind.
__________________________________________________________________
The afternoon passed hot and dry. John rolled up his sleeves and helped Tiarna with her chores, hauling water in from a well for her to wash the dishes and scrub everything down, then drying alongside her in companionable silence.
Rodney tried, in his own way, offering to baby-sit while the heavy work needed to be done. He offered Japeth a peanut butter power bar, then regaled the tot with the nutritional value packed inside and a lecture on the value of vacuum sealing. The boy just sat nibbling on the bar, chocolate smeared from ear to ear, but seemed entranced by the sound of the scientist’s voice. The baby got her own bar but she contented herself with gumming the foil-wrapped package.
John glanced at his watch, noting several hours had passed since the doc and his party had left. Lifting a hand to his ear he stepped out of the hut and tapped his radio.
“Carson?”
“Here, Colonel,” came the familiar Scottish burr a few seconds later. “We ran into a wee problem. Just getting it sorted out now.”
“What kind of problem, Doc?” John asked, tensing for word of Wraith or an accident.
“One of the native workers fell from a tree. He dislocated his shoulder and I had to pop it back inta place for him. Just finished putting him in a sling- he should be right as rain in a few weeks.”
John relaxed slightly, rolling his head until his neck popped in relief. “Finish up and head on back, okay, doc? And don’t go climbing any trees yourself, okay?”
He heard a light chuckle. “No worries there, Colonel. Besides, Ronon seems quite comfortable in the higher branches.”
“Don’t be telling me these things, Doc. Please. Just leave me blissfully ignorant, alright?”
“As you wish, Colonel. We’ll be in shortly. Beckett out.”
__________________________________________________________________
The doc was good to his word, the trio having been joined by a tall thin blonde Mallomaran in a navy blue field med sling and the two teen children of Tiarna and her taciturn husband who, John realized, still had no name.
Tiarna dropped the broom she’d been using to fight her futile battle against the dust and rushed out to fuss over the native man, leading him into the hut and goading him into a seat. Her fingers ran over the silky fabric of the sling and she asked the man if he was in pain. He appeared to consider for a minute then gave an incredulous shake of his head.
She whirled around to cast grateful eyes at Carson, pulling him into a quick embrace that clearly left the Scot bemused by her affection.
“Och, Lass, it’s just immobilization and a little Tylenol. Haven’t found anyone react badly to it so far so I felt it was safe to give it to him. I’ll leave some more pills for him with instructions, of course, that he can take while he’s recuperatin’.”
“Well, thank you, Doctor. This is Jonlar, my little brother. I sent him along to keep the children out of trouble,” she said as she turned kindly, scolding eyes on the man who had the good sense to stay mute. Or maybe that was just the way of all the Mallomaran men, John thought.
Running a hand over her forehead, she pushed aside a few loose tendrils from where they’d matted in sweat and gazed off at the sun lowering towards the horizon. “It’s about evening meal time - the rest of the harvesters should be coming in soon.” She dropped her hand and grinned broadly at the Lanteans. “I think we have cause for a celebration, in honor of our guests and the help and care you’ve shown.
Gloriel? I think it’s time,” she said, turning to her daughter. The teenager’s face crumpled into a heart-rending frown but she nodded and headed around the back of the hut.
“Um, Tiarna? Time for what?” John inquired with a not so subtle look at the receding form of the girl, taking in her dropped shoulders and slow gait.
“Well, Colonel Sheppard, we don’t just harvest the yupa fruits. Gloriel understands.”
“Oookay,” he said slowly. “Is it something I can help with? Make it easier, whatever it is?”
“She’s sent to slaughter our nawk. One of our domesticated fowl.”
“Like a chicken?” he asked, picturing the first thing that came to mind. “Never mind,” he said with a shake of his head at Tiarna’s oblivious look. “I, uh. That can be dirty work, I suppose, but if has to be done. Tell Gloriel I’ll do it.”
“Oh, Colonel, I couldn’t ask that of you …besides… I’m not sure…”
She cocked her head and appraised him. “It can be tough, catching a nawk. It would be best if Gloriel does it.”
John puffed up his chest and put on the gamest face he had. “Ma’am. I’ve wrangled with Wraith and flown a jumper into the sun. If that little wisp of a girl can do it, I think I can handle it.”
Tiarna smiled and only said, “I don’t know of this chick-en, but I’m sure a great warrior such as yourself will be well able to handle yourself. It’s in the back.”
__________________________________________________________________
Chicken was about as far from what the nawk was as a kitten was from a saber-toothed tiger. Ostrich on steroids maybe? The nawk stood at least as tall as John, its tiny beady-eye punctuated head overwhelmed by a heavy beak with a wicked-looking hook at the end. Dull grey feathers morphed into scales where it met the long neck and strong legs ending in more of the same horny points on its three- toed feet.
The origin of its name was quickly revealed as John entered the fenced-in enclosure. It wheeled its head around to fix one cold, dark eye on him and then opened its beak to let out a loud NAWK!
“Jeez,” John muttered to himself. “Almost wish it was a wraith instead.” He eyed up his quarry, taking a few steps further into the defacto ‘ring’. The bird bobbed its head up and down and backed up the same number of steps.
“Here, birdie, birdie,” he soothed, then tried whistling at it like he would have his old dog, Gus. “Nice birdie. C’mon, don’t make me look like an asshole in front of these nice folks. Just come and be dinner like a good little meal.”
His fingers brushed against the butt of his 9mm, but he could feel the eyes of the family and his team watching him. Good one, John! Make them pick lead outa their celebratory meal!
C’mon …it was still just a bird. And by the size of that skull, it probably had a brain the size of a grape.
His quarry had backed up and was against the fence so John made his move. He dug his boots into the loose, dusty dirt and sprang forward, launching himself at the thing, head ducked down to avoid the cruel beak, aiming to take it out at the legs.
Small, almost vestigial wings sprung out from its side as it NAWKed at him and fluttered several inches into the air, kicking out with its taloned claws. John rolled away barely in time as it thudded back to the ground to scamper away, its head whipping wildly on its snakelike neck.
“Okay, Not fair!” John spat dirt from his mouth and wiped sweat out his eyes. “It can fly?!”
“Hey, Sheppard. You need a hand?” He heard Ronon’s laconic voice float over from where the tall man leaned against the fence, obviously enjoying the spectacle.
“Colonel Sheppard, perhaps your friend is right. The nawk is not a creature to be tangled with if you are unfamiliar with it.”
“No offense, Tiarna, but it’s personal now,” he uttered in his best John McClane voice. “This bird is goin’ down!”
He picked himself up painfully off the ground and beat the dust from his BDUs like a cowboy in a Western. “You and me, Rodan. C’mon!” and he gave bring it on fingers at the bird as it glared back at him.
The bird NAWKed again, then scratched its claws in the dirt and charged. John yelled out an obscenity and threw himself up onto the fence, barely pulling his legs up before the beak had slashed him.
He leapt down and wrapped his arms around the bird, his fingers grasping at the scaly neck, sliding off the dust covered feathers and he slid right off to thud to the ground. The nawk, spooked by its temporary rider, took off the few inches it could manage again, stirring up a choking cloud of grit.
John coughed as it caught in his throat and his eyes began to water but he had presence of mind to roll away again, just in time to see a clawed foot impact the ground where his head was seconds before.
From the sidelines he heard Carson begin to make worried clucking noises. “I’m fine!” he shouted while maintaining his focus on his opponent. “Embarrassed, but fine!”
“Perhaps you should listen to Tiarna.”
Damn! Even Teyla was convinced he couldn’t do this!
“I’ve GOT this!” he yelled as he rose to his feet again.
“Yeah, you’ve got this, Sheppard,” he heard Rodney snort. “Who exactly are you doing this for? There aren’t any swooning spacewomen around for you to impress, Colonel. Not that you’d be impressing them anyways…”
“Thanks for the support, Rodney!”
He turned to look angrily at his supposed friend and took his eyes off the super-ostrich long enough for it to sense its opening in its little reptilian brain.
It didn’t issue a warning NAWK! this time- it took three long strides over and knocked him right off his feet, planting one heavy foot in the middle of his vest-covered chest.
John let out an ooof! and grabbed at the clawed foot to flip it back off of him but the thing weighed at least two hundred pounds.
The tiny head lowered menacingly, the evil beak inches from his face.
And then it spat on him.
A big, nasty, stinky loogie, right on his cheek.
“Oh, now that’s just GROSS!” he heard Rodney huff out.
The bird cocked its head and made a snorty noise as if working up some more salivary ammo and John braced for it, squeezing his eyes shut, almost wishing it would bite him instead when he heard an odd noise from a few feet away.
The nawk immediately lifted away from him and wandered over to the sound where the teenage girl sat perched on the fence making a clicking noise with her tongue on the roof of her mouth. She reached up to pull down some fresh, still green branches down from the tree to pluck a hard-looking fruit free which she held out to the creature.
The bird walked over to take the fruit in its evil beak, cracking the shell with a bone crunching sound. It spat the outer shell out and swallowed with obvious gusto, then laid its tiny head on Gloriel’s shoulder as she wrapped her arms around the bird in a hug, tears falling from her eyes to streak in the tan dust that covered her cheeks.
John sat up and dug his fingers into the spittle to claw it off his cheek, flinging the clingy mucus away distastefully.
He stood and dusted himself off one last time and walked over stiffly to join his team. “Well, that went well, I think.”
“Yeah, you showed it who was boss, Sheppard.”
“Shut up, Rodney,” he replied testily. “And before you ask, Doc, I’m fine. Just a wounded pride is all. And the boo-boo on my finger hurts. I think I got space ostrich spit in it.”
“Eww. Cant imagine it’s any less sanitary than your earlier salivary application, Colonel,” Rodney snarked.
“So, Tiarna,” John said as he cast another glance at the crying girl and her bizarre pet. “Those eggs were really good. Think maybe our feast could just be more of ’em? I think it only fair that he earn a reprieve for uh, besting me in battle.”
“Actually, Colonel, it’s a she. And she provides those eggs you love. It would have been a hardship to lose her.”
“A she, huh? Man, I’m NEVER gonna live this down.”
Authors: Everybetty and Kristen999
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Through season 2. Specifically “Conversion”
Challenge: Sickness
Length: 24,400 words
Summary: CAUTION: The Pegasus Galaxy contains many dangers. Like football, giant space ostriches, and sharp edges.
Genre: H/C and Humor.
Notes: Made it in by the skin of our teeth! Want to thank the mods for extending the deadline. Once we heard about this challenge, Beth and I could not resist temptation.
“So explain to me again, why a scientist is needed to visit a planet that has no science?” Rodney huffed as he fought with the sleeve of his grey uniform jacket.
“Sounds like someone woke up on the wrong side of the laptop this morning,” was the reply from the pilot seat of the jumper.
Rodney paused in his struggle. “Laptop?”
John’s hand rose to mime a tic-tac-toe grid imprint on his own cheek. “You have ‘key face’ again.”
“Oh for…” Rodney’s fingers rubbed furiously at his cheek, leaving a hot red, mottled mark over the clear impression of typewriter keys branded into his skin.
“Jeez, McKay, didn’t you see it when you shaved this morning?”
“I didn’t”
“How’d you miss it?”
“No, I mean I didn’t shave this morning. I don’t have to shave every morning; it’s one of the benefits of being fair.”
“Fair? As many words as I could think of to describe you, Rodney, fair is not one of them.”
“What?” Rodney’s blue eyes grew wide as he framed his face with outstretched jazz hands. “This is fair.” An index finger poked alarmingly close to his eye as he gestured at it. “See? Blue eyes. Light hair. Fair!”
He dropped the brandished pointer slowly as the violence and absurdity of his actions seemed to dawn on him. “You’re just jealous, Mr. Ten AM Shadow,” he retorted.
Now it was John’s turn to raise a hand to rub thoughtfully at his jaw. As his thumb rasped over the roughness of his freshly shaven skin he decided he didn’t want to continue the argument anymore.
“A scientist is needed in case we FIND any science, McKay. Besides, our sensors picked up heat signatures of over 500 degrees.”
“Oh, good. They’ve discovered fire. At least we got THAT out of the way. Ah, Carson. So you’ll be joining us on this little visit back to the Neolithic?”
“Hello, Rodney,” Carson said with a sigh as he dropped his medical bag onto the floor next to the passenger bench. “And I’m told they’ve advanced a bit beyond rocks and spears.”
“Yes, I heard about the fire. Quite the development that,” Rodney muttered as he turned back around to poke at some of the buttons in front of him. A sidelong glare from the pilot stilled his hands.
“Thanks for letting me tag along, Colonel. I want to check out the local flora- especially for fruits. I think folks are getting a wee bit tired of the canned stuff between Daedalus runs.”
“Yes, and don’t think I haven’t noticed all that’s left is mandarin oranges, Carson. You know, maybe I would like some fruit on occasion. Would it be too much to ask for something of the non-citrus variety?” Rodney piped up once again, not bothering to turn his head to catch Carson rolling his eyes. “Probably come down with scurvy,” he mumbled.
“Och, Rodney, there’s still the peaches left you like. And I could always give you vitamin C shots if you’re worried?”
Rodney squirmed in his seat, then made a point of poking furiously at the buttons again.
John turned to smile broadly, almost evilly at Carson, then reached out a hand to still the physicist’s annoying fiddling. His finger raked across a slight burr in the metal of the instrument panel and he yanked it back with a small hiss, instantly popping the traumatized digit into his mouth.
“Oh, now that’s sanitary!” Rodney snorted.
“Wha-?” John said around the finger he continued to suck on. He pulled it out to show the teeniest amount of blood that could be shed and still be seen.
“What I don’t understand,” John continued, brandishing the moistened finger in front of Rodney’s face, “is how it happened? Didn’t your team work on this panel last?”
“If you hadn’t crashed the damn thing it wouldn’t have needed the work!” Rodney spluttered.
“It -- it was a rough landing- I don’t crash. AND it was because the time you fixed it BEFORE the -- rough landing-- someone crossed some of the wiring and I was flying with bad instruments, McKay!”
“But that time we wouldn’t have been fixing it if you hadn’t-”
“-Oh, for the love of …” Carson got up to stand between the two bickering men. “Colonel, let’s see the finger.”
“Doc, it’s a cut. A teeny tiny nothing cut. Look - already stopped bleeding, see?”
“Yes, it would appear saliva cures all ills, Carson. A shade better than the usual rattle shaking you medical people do, too,” Rodney said, folding his arms smugly.
“Yes, I’ll remember to try that next time you come wailin’ to me with your next gunshot wound, Rodney.” The rest of the words turned into Scots Gaelic and sounded completely foreign yet somehow obscene.
“Teyla. Ronon. Nice of you two to join us,” John said with a big grin as the last two members of his team entered the jumper, Ronon hauling the door shut behind him.
“Yes, Colonel. I’m sorry for the delay,” Teyla said with lowered eyes.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who overslept.”
“Actually, Dr. McKay, Ronon and I have been sparring since dawn.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Teyla insisted we shower before we boarded,” the Satedan grunted as he took a seat next to the Athosian.
“Well… thank you for that, Teyla,” John said smoothly, his hands moving in familiar patterns over the panel in front of him. “Okay, kids. Hands and feet inside the ride at all times. Let’s go see if we can find Rodney some science.”
__________________________________________________________________
There was no science to be found. There was a small village; thatch-roofed huts clustered around a large dirt clearing. The natives and the homes and the pack animals were all covered in a layer of tan dust that quickly caked on the skins of the team members. Rodney went through every wetnap in his pockets before finally conceding defeat.
The Mallomarans were intrigued by the appearance of five strangers in their midst but their stargate had allowed other traders through in the past so after greetings were exchanged and the men of the village puffed up their chests and flexed plow-strengthened bulging biceps while they sized up the team, they retired to the home of the woman who had first greeted them on their arrival.
Tiarna was a stout woman; blonde curly hair piled high on her head, loose strands plastered to her florid face. She had a babe in her arms and a toddler hiding behind her skirts who would pop out only long enough to insert a thumb into his mouth while he stared with huge brown eyes at the team before quickly ducking back.
“Ah, look, Colonel. It seems you and he have something in common,” Rodney said, gesturing his head towards the child.
“Colonel, if you don’t mind, I’d like to start my search now,” Carson broke in before the bantering of earlier could re-start.
“Sure, Doc. Why don’t you take Teyla and Ronon with you? Just in case.”
“I’d appreciate the company, Colonel.” He turned to address their hostess, waggling fingers at the face that had popped back out from behind her skirts. “Lass, would you be knowing of any place where fruits grow? Wild, or orchards if you have them. I’m sure we could work something out in trade…”
“Of course, doctor,” Tiarna replied as she set the baby down in a blanket covered woven basket. “We have both. The orchards are mostly our effort to control the harvest of the yupa. It grows all over the hills but it is easier to pick before the rains come with the trees closer to the village.”
“Wonderful!” Carson exclaimed with a wide grin. “I’d love to check out the domesticated and wild variants - if you don’t mind, of course.”
“No,” she said with an answering smile. “The gods provide more than we can eat in a thousand lifetimes. They are free for your taking.”
With the go ahead the doctor and the two warriors set off with baskets given to them in search of - yes, Rodney- non-citrus fruits.
John and Rodney took seats at the rough-hewn table in the small hut and made small talk with Tiarna while she bustled in front of a stove, shoving wood into the oven to feed the fire.
The boy, Japeth, took immediately to Rodney in the way that small kids and pets do to those who want nothing to do with them. When the physicist shoved the small boy back not too ungently a second time John darted a quick look at the oblivious mother, then poked a sharp elbow into Rodney’s side with a hiss and a forced smile. “Play nice, Rodney.”
Tiarna turned from the stove with a cast-iron skillet filled with what appeared to be scrambled eggs mixed with a variety of unfamiliar vegetables. “It’s not much, sirs, but it fills the stomach. I’d be obliged if you joined us for the midday meal.”
Rodney passed his gaze over the eggs, his stomach letting out a loud growl as the smell of a pleasant spice hit his nose.
Tiarna chuckled as she set the skillet down and grabbed up some clay thrown plates. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
She set out five plates, then paused and pulled out two more, laying them out around the table. She stepped to the open door and, leaning out, let loose a ululating cry that had John and Rodney raising eyebrows.
She returned without comment to the table and began ladling out portions, the skillet never seeming to empty, no matter how much she apportioned out.
Seconds later a man appeared. His clothing was rough; hand-sewn britches with leather straps criss-crossed over his broad chest. He leaned in to give Tiarna a peck on the cheek, then sat down without a word to the guests to begin shoveling eggs into his mouth.
Next arrived a teenage boy, a smaller version of the man who was obviously his father. Following behind him were a teenage girl in long skirts like her mother. The two teens stared with naked curiosity at John and Rodney, but otherwise were quiet but for the scraping of their utensils on the clay plates.
Tiarna settled herself into the last chair, the toddler on her knee, the babe in her arms, and she alternated prodding the smallest boy to eat and offering teensy bites of the egg concoction to the baby.
John looked at Rodney. Rodney looked at John. The two men shrugged and picked up their forks and dug in. The odd group ate in silence, the father finishing his first and, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, got up, ruffled the toddler’s hair and pointed a meaty finger at the plate in front of the child, kissed the baby and then his wife, and left without a single word having been uttered.
“Man gives Ronon a run for the title of strong silent type,” Rodney muttered through a mouth stuffed with eggs.
The teens finished up their meals soon after, leaving dirty plates behind to kiss their mother as they passed by her and left in the same quiet manner as their dad.
Tiarna blushed lightly. “The rains are coming,” she offered as explanation. “We have much preparation before then.”
Rodney just continued forking in his food, taking a brief pause to shove his food to the side of his mouth and mumble something about them being the best eggs he’d ever eaten.
It was John’s turn to blush in embarrassment for his friend’s unusual lack of table manners. “He got up too late for breakfast, Tiarna. He’s not normally… this bad.”
She nodded understandingly, then got up to start cleaning the mess left behind.
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The afternoon passed hot and dry. John rolled up his sleeves and helped Tiarna with her chores, hauling water in from a well for her to wash the dishes and scrub everything down, then drying alongside her in companionable silence.
Rodney tried, in his own way, offering to baby-sit while the heavy work needed to be done. He offered Japeth a peanut butter power bar, then regaled the tot with the nutritional value packed inside and a lecture on the value of vacuum sealing. The boy just sat nibbling on the bar, chocolate smeared from ear to ear, but seemed entranced by the sound of the scientist’s voice. The baby got her own bar but she contented herself with gumming the foil-wrapped package.
John glanced at his watch, noting several hours had passed since the doc and his party had left. Lifting a hand to his ear he stepped out of the hut and tapped his radio.
“Carson?”
“Here, Colonel,” came the familiar Scottish burr a few seconds later. “We ran into a wee problem. Just getting it sorted out now.”
“What kind of problem, Doc?” John asked, tensing for word of Wraith or an accident.
“One of the native workers fell from a tree. He dislocated his shoulder and I had to pop it back inta place for him. Just finished putting him in a sling- he should be right as rain in a few weeks.”
John relaxed slightly, rolling his head until his neck popped in relief. “Finish up and head on back, okay, doc? And don’t go climbing any trees yourself, okay?”
He heard a light chuckle. “No worries there, Colonel. Besides, Ronon seems quite comfortable in the higher branches.”
“Don’t be telling me these things, Doc. Please. Just leave me blissfully ignorant, alright?”
“As you wish, Colonel. We’ll be in shortly. Beckett out.”
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The doc was good to his word, the trio having been joined by a tall thin blonde Mallomaran in a navy blue field med sling and the two teen children of Tiarna and her taciturn husband who, John realized, still had no name.
Tiarna dropped the broom she’d been using to fight her futile battle against the dust and rushed out to fuss over the native man, leading him into the hut and goading him into a seat. Her fingers ran over the silky fabric of the sling and she asked the man if he was in pain. He appeared to consider for a minute then gave an incredulous shake of his head.
She whirled around to cast grateful eyes at Carson, pulling him into a quick embrace that clearly left the Scot bemused by her affection.
“Och, Lass, it’s just immobilization and a little Tylenol. Haven’t found anyone react badly to it so far so I felt it was safe to give it to him. I’ll leave some more pills for him with instructions, of course, that he can take while he’s recuperatin’.”
“Well, thank you, Doctor. This is Jonlar, my little brother. I sent him along to keep the children out of trouble,” she said as she turned kindly, scolding eyes on the man who had the good sense to stay mute. Or maybe that was just the way of all the Mallomaran men, John thought.
Running a hand over her forehead, she pushed aside a few loose tendrils from where they’d matted in sweat and gazed off at the sun lowering towards the horizon. “It’s about evening meal time - the rest of the harvesters should be coming in soon.” She dropped her hand and grinned broadly at the Lanteans. “I think we have cause for a celebration, in honor of our guests and the help and care you’ve shown.
Gloriel? I think it’s time,” she said, turning to her daughter. The teenager’s face crumpled into a heart-rending frown but she nodded and headed around the back of the hut.
“Um, Tiarna? Time for what?” John inquired with a not so subtle look at the receding form of the girl, taking in her dropped shoulders and slow gait.
“Well, Colonel Sheppard, we don’t just harvest the yupa fruits. Gloriel understands.”
“Oookay,” he said slowly. “Is it something I can help with? Make it easier, whatever it is?”
“She’s sent to slaughter our nawk. One of our domesticated fowl.”
“Like a chicken?” he asked, picturing the first thing that came to mind. “Never mind,” he said with a shake of his head at Tiarna’s oblivious look. “I, uh. That can be dirty work, I suppose, but if has to be done. Tell Gloriel I’ll do it.”
“Oh, Colonel, I couldn’t ask that of you …besides… I’m not sure…”
She cocked her head and appraised him. “It can be tough, catching a nawk. It would be best if Gloriel does it.”
John puffed up his chest and put on the gamest face he had. “Ma’am. I’ve wrangled with Wraith and flown a jumper into the sun. If that little wisp of a girl can do it, I think I can handle it.”
Tiarna smiled and only said, “I don’t know of this chick-en, but I’m sure a great warrior such as yourself will be well able to handle yourself. It’s in the back.”
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Chicken was about as far from what the nawk was as a kitten was from a saber-toothed tiger. Ostrich on steroids maybe? The nawk stood at least as tall as John, its tiny beady-eye punctuated head overwhelmed by a heavy beak with a wicked-looking hook at the end. Dull grey feathers morphed into scales where it met the long neck and strong legs ending in more of the same horny points on its three- toed feet.
The origin of its name was quickly revealed as John entered the fenced-in enclosure. It wheeled its head around to fix one cold, dark eye on him and then opened its beak to let out a loud NAWK!
“Jeez,” John muttered to himself. “Almost wish it was a wraith instead.” He eyed up his quarry, taking a few steps further into the defacto ‘ring’. The bird bobbed its head up and down and backed up the same number of steps.
“Here, birdie, birdie,” he soothed, then tried whistling at it like he would have his old dog, Gus. “Nice birdie. C’mon, don’t make me look like an asshole in front of these nice folks. Just come and be dinner like a good little meal.”
His fingers brushed against the butt of his 9mm, but he could feel the eyes of the family and his team watching him. Good one, John! Make them pick lead outa their celebratory meal!
C’mon …it was still just a bird. And by the size of that skull, it probably had a brain the size of a grape.
His quarry had backed up and was against the fence so John made his move. He dug his boots into the loose, dusty dirt and sprang forward, launching himself at the thing, head ducked down to avoid the cruel beak, aiming to take it out at the legs.
Small, almost vestigial wings sprung out from its side as it NAWKed at him and fluttered several inches into the air, kicking out with its taloned claws. John rolled away barely in time as it thudded back to the ground to scamper away, its head whipping wildly on its snakelike neck.
“Okay, Not fair!” John spat dirt from his mouth and wiped sweat out his eyes. “It can fly?!”
“Hey, Sheppard. You need a hand?” He heard Ronon’s laconic voice float over from where the tall man leaned against the fence, obviously enjoying the spectacle.
“Colonel Sheppard, perhaps your friend is right. The nawk is not a creature to be tangled with if you are unfamiliar with it.”
“No offense, Tiarna, but it’s personal now,” he uttered in his best John McClane voice. “This bird is goin’ down!”
He picked himself up painfully off the ground and beat the dust from his BDUs like a cowboy in a Western. “You and me, Rodan. C’mon!” and he gave bring it on fingers at the bird as it glared back at him.
The bird NAWKed again, then scratched its claws in the dirt and charged. John yelled out an obscenity and threw himself up onto the fence, barely pulling his legs up before the beak had slashed him.
He leapt down and wrapped his arms around the bird, his fingers grasping at the scaly neck, sliding off the dust covered feathers and he slid right off to thud to the ground. The nawk, spooked by its temporary rider, took off the few inches it could manage again, stirring up a choking cloud of grit.
John coughed as it caught in his throat and his eyes began to water but he had presence of mind to roll away again, just in time to see a clawed foot impact the ground where his head was seconds before.
From the sidelines he heard Carson begin to make worried clucking noises. “I’m fine!” he shouted while maintaining his focus on his opponent. “Embarrassed, but fine!”
“Perhaps you should listen to Tiarna.”
Damn! Even Teyla was convinced he couldn’t do this!
“I’ve GOT this!” he yelled as he rose to his feet again.
“Yeah, you’ve got this, Sheppard,” he heard Rodney snort. “Who exactly are you doing this for? There aren’t any swooning spacewomen around for you to impress, Colonel. Not that you’d be impressing them anyways…”
“Thanks for the support, Rodney!”
He turned to look angrily at his supposed friend and took his eyes off the super-ostrich long enough for it to sense its opening in its little reptilian brain.
It didn’t issue a warning NAWK! this time- it took three long strides over and knocked him right off his feet, planting one heavy foot in the middle of his vest-covered chest.
John let out an ooof! and grabbed at the clawed foot to flip it back off of him but the thing weighed at least two hundred pounds.
The tiny head lowered menacingly, the evil beak inches from his face.
And then it spat on him.
A big, nasty, stinky loogie, right on his cheek.
“Oh, now that’s just GROSS!” he heard Rodney huff out.
The bird cocked its head and made a snorty noise as if working up some more salivary ammo and John braced for it, squeezing his eyes shut, almost wishing it would bite him instead when he heard an odd noise from a few feet away.
The nawk immediately lifted away from him and wandered over to the sound where the teenage girl sat perched on the fence making a clicking noise with her tongue on the roof of her mouth. She reached up to pull down some fresh, still green branches down from the tree to pluck a hard-looking fruit free which she held out to the creature.
The bird walked over to take the fruit in its evil beak, cracking the shell with a bone crunching sound. It spat the outer shell out and swallowed with obvious gusto, then laid its tiny head on Gloriel’s shoulder as she wrapped her arms around the bird in a hug, tears falling from her eyes to streak in the tan dust that covered her cheeks.
John sat up and dug his fingers into the spittle to claw it off his cheek, flinging the clingy mucus away distastefully.
He stood and dusted himself off one last time and walked over stiffly to join his team. “Well, that went well, I think.”
“Yeah, you showed it who was boss, Sheppard.”
“Shut up, Rodney,” he replied testily. “And before you ask, Doc, I’m fine. Just a wounded pride is all. And the boo-boo on my finger hurts. I think I got space ostrich spit in it.”
“Eww. Cant imagine it’s any less sanitary than your earlier salivary application, Colonel,” Rodney snarked.
“So, Tiarna,” John said as he cast another glance at the crying girl and her bizarre pet. “Those eggs were really good. Think maybe our feast could just be more of ’em? I think it only fair that he earn a reprieve for uh, besting me in battle.”
“Actually, Colonel, it’s a she. And she provides those eggs you love. It would have been a hardship to lose her.”
“A she, huh? Man, I’m NEVER gonna live this down.”