Humor, Week 3: Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Insanity (2/2)

[sholio]

Title: Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Insanity
Author: blade_girl
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up through “Travelers”
Prompt: Paperwork and Documentation
Genre: Humor
Characters: Rodney, Team
Summary: The reason for McKay's disappearance is beyond crazy, but the situation that precipitated it manages to surpass it. Another day, another set of Pegasus absurdities.
Word count: 19,433



Back to Part One

Standing at the foot of the gate ramp on the Surrosan homeworld, Teyla briefed John and Ronon on what to expect.

“They are a peaceful, cerebral people who devote themselves to study and learning. Their city is not far from here.” She gestured in the direction they should travel and the three of them began walking briskly.

The surroundings were pleasant, rich with vegetation. “Kinda like a park,” John noted as they headed down a path paved with stones cut into geometric shapes. He glanced around. This place could be made into a decent Frisbee golf course. He wondered if the Surrosans would be up for a little cultural exchange.

“The Surrosans are meticulous about their environment,” Teyla said. “Their architecture is clean and mathematically precise, their buildings immaculately kept. They approach life with scientific precision and great attention to detail. They are a serious-minded, hard-working people.”

So probably no Frisbee golf, John thought with a grimace. What was it about serious-minded, hard-working people that made them such total stick-in-the-muds? Hadn't they ever heard that all work and no play makes... John's right foot struck unexpected unevenness and he was headed for a face-plant, fortunately averted by Ronon's steadying hand on his arm.

Bending to the ground, John picked up a piece of broken paving stone. “Meticulous, huh?”

Teyla looked disconcerted. “I am sure that repairs will soon be made. Perhaps they are unaware that the path needs mending.”

Nodding, John straightened and they resumed their progress. Teyla continued to wax knowledgeable about the Surrosan cultural obsession with science, order, and precision. All the while, John was aware of the increasingly decaying state of the path. By the time an errant thorny vine caught hold of the sleeve of his black tee and drew blood from his arm, John had heard enough.

“All right, I've heard enough,” he said, 'cause he was clever like that. Pulling free of the grabby sticker-vine, he added, “Y'know, Teyla, I can't help noticing that this path seems a little ratty.”

Teyla raised an eyebrow. “I have seen no trace of the animals you refer to as 'rodents.'”

Fine, be like that. John said, very patiently, “Would you say that this path meets the standard of 'immaculately-keptness' that you would normally expect of the Surrosans?”

Her face fell minutely; John barely managed to contain a triumphant, “Gotcha!” It wasn't very leader-like and besides, she'd only get revenge later during his beati... uh, their sparring session.

“I must admit,” she said, “I am a bit surprised by the state of this path. On my previous visits, I never saw so much as a stone out of place or a bush less than perfectly trimmed.”

“When were you here last?” Ronon asked her.

“I last visited shortly after I became our leader,” she answered. “But others among my people made trading visits later and never reported anything amiss.”

“Well, you did say your people haven't heard from them in a while,” John said. He gestured with his head that they continue and they resumed walking, now more cautiously. Ordinarily, poor groundskeeping wasn't cause for alarm, but this was Pegasus; in this galaxy, a trip to the garden of Eden could turn to shit even without a treacherous serpent. Hell, even without apples.

“Ronon,” Teyla said, “you have been here much more recently. What do you recall from your visit?”

“I was here twice,” the Satedan said. “First time, it was pretty much like you said.”

They kept moving in silence until John realized Ronon really wasn't going to continue without prompting. “And the second time?”

Ronon shrugged. “Second time, it was different.”

Boy, the big guy really knew how to spin a yarn.

Teyla stepped in front of her large teammate, fixing him with a stern glare. “Ronon, I believe you know more about what has become of the Surrosans than you are saying.”

“Yeah,” John said, never one to miss a good pile-on. “The second time was different, how?”

They were interrupted in their pursuit of truth by the sounds of nearby combat. Profuse grunting and occasional swearing were punctuated by the sound of wood striking wood and, less often, bodies. Instantly alert, the three of them hurried cautiously down the path toward the sounds.

Turned out they were almost to the end of the path anyway, finding themselves in a clearing that looked to be on the outskirts of the city. What was happening there was... well, if John didn't know any better, he would have thought it was some sort of riot. What convinced him it wasn't was the fact that all the “rioters” were dressed identically in white tunics and black shorts, and all of them were armed with long bamboo-like sticks. In real riots, people didn't dress alike and they generally armed themselves with the most lethal objects they could lay hands upon. Bamboo-y sticks of uniform thickness and length were not the spontaneous violence implements of choice among discerning vigilantes

A closer look told him that the apparent melee was really a group of people sparring in pairs. Swinging their sticks with extreme concentration but an utter lack of skill or precision, it was clear that each combatant was directing his or her aggression at only one partner, although there was a disturbing number of inadvertent strikes, pokes, and tripping up of people in surrounding pairs.

John glanced at Teyla to see if she had any better understanding of what they were looking at here, but her expression was one of complete astonishment. He felt vaguely sympathetic; she'd come here expecting to renew ties with a society of tidy Einsteins, Stephen Hawkings, and Frank Lloyd Wrights and instead had found the Pegasus version of the Keystone Kops.

“Boy, even their hair's different than you expected,” he said, failing as usual in the tact department.

“Quite different,” she answered tightly.

John frowned, watching the nearest sparring pair as one man got the end of his stick lodged in a hole in the ground and his opponent tripped over it. The first man then slipped and landed on the second, their wild, frizzy locks flying in their faces.

“In fact,” John said, turning toward Ronon, “their hair looks a lot like yours.”

Teyla grabbed Ronon's arm ungently. “Ronon, who are these people? What happened to the Surrosans?”

“These are the Surrosans.”

“That is impossible. The Surr...”

They became aware of a sudden lack of noise and saw that the sparring session had ended. The ground of the clearing was littered with injured, bleeding, groaning people, and even those left standing were bent, bruised, and nursing nosebleeds and eyes swollen shut. Those capable of focusing outward were staring at the three newcomers.

John flashed a friendly smile and waved. “Hey.”

When no one reciprocated or, indeed, seemed to notice that he'd spoken, he realized that the people weren't staring at the three of them.

They were staring at Ronon.

A portly short man, completely bald on top but wearing the sides in long reddish-gray dreads - which, yeah, looked every bit as ridiculous it sounds - stepped forward and reverently addressed their Satedan teammate. “Ronon! You've come back! At last, we have a chance to demonstrate our progress. Come, please! The board of governors will want to know you're here.” Turning to the erstwhile combatants, he yelled, “That's all for today, students! As you can see, we have an honored guest. We will resume from this point tomorrow. Dismissed!”

“So,” John said dubiously, “this was a class.” Maybe a class for first aid responders?

The portly man beamed proudly as his students limped away, some of them leaning on their sticks or each other for support. “Yes, my advanced personal combat students. Finest group I've ever taught.”

John kept a smile pasted on and nodded politely. If Atlantis established a trading relationship with these people, he guessed that medical supplies would be top of their wish list.

The portly man's attention was once again on Ronon. He clasped his hands together in almost childlike glee. “Oh, I really cannot wait for you to see all that we've done! I know you are going to be very surprised.”

“I am already surprised,” Teyla said with deceptive mildness.

The man seemed taken aback, as though it had only just dawned on him that Ronon wasn't alone. Gesturing with a hand each toward Teyla and John, he asked Ronon, “These are your... attendants?”

Ronon folded his arms and smirked. John knew it was time to earn that gate team leader stipend and stepped forward. “Lt. Col. John Sheppard. This is Teyla Emmagen, and you obviously know Specialist Ronon Dex.”

“I am Juzo, chief cleric and minister of training,” said the man, wearing a look of confused annoyance, as though he'd stuck in a DVD he'd really been anticipating and now found himself subjected to a series of ads for other movies that he couldn't simply fast-forward through to get to the feature, which he'd been waiting for for over six months because someone at the SGC kept forgetting to put it on the Daedalus.

Of course, John might be projecting a little.

Juzo nodded to him and Teyla with an insincere smile and then resumed looking at Ronon.

Waving a hand in a way that kinda screamed, “Taxi!”, John said, “Actually, I'm the leader of our team.”

Juzo's head turned and he sent a look to John that clearly demanded, Why do you keep speaking?

Teyla stepped forward before John could justify himself. “My people and yours once enjoyed a fruitful trade relationship,” she told Juzo. When he looked confused, she clarified, “My people lived on Athos at the time.”

“Oh, yes! I remember them.”

Teyla's smile was like the sun coming up, and Juzo responded in kind. She continued. “We have not heard from your people in some time and were unaware of the... immense cultural changes that have taken place here.”

Juzo smiled some more. “Yes, many things have changed here since those days. Once we were foolishly focused on matters that seemed vastly important, but were of little true significance.” He again looked reverently at Ronon. “But we were very fortunate to have a visitor who showed us how our efforts as a people were best applied. Since that time, the Ancestors have certainly smiled upon us.”

John looked around at the neglected landscaping and crumbling pavement. “I don't know. Kinda let the infrastructure go, didn't you?”

“Well, yes,” Juzo conceded. “Actually, that's an example of our once misguided cultural focus. Before, my people were constantly distracted by frivolous pursuits. Today, we are firmly on the path the Ancestors have laid out for us.”

Teyla frowned in frustration. “But-”

Ronon interrupted. “We're here because we're lookin' for a guy. Member of our team. Someone kidnapped him.”

John felt startled by this reminder of the purpose of their mission. He and Teyla exchanged a guilty look.

“That's right,” John said, belatedly taking over. “We have reason to believe that someone from your planet may have kidnapped him.”

Teyla brought out one of the fliers with Rodney's picture and handed it to Juzo. “I don't recognize this man,” he said firmly, handing it back to her. “And frankly, I have trouble believing that anyone from here would have had anything to do with this. Our people are all quite busy with physical training.”

“This paper has been posted on many different worlds,” Teyla said. “On one of them, a young woman was seen showing great interest in the paper. She was described as wearing her hair in the style of your people.” She glanced at Juzo's silly attempt at a Rononesque coiffure. “That is, the style your people once embraced. Shaved on the sides, long at the crown...”

A dark look arose in Juzo's eyes that he quickly submerged. “As you say, that is the old hair tradition. Now, we wear it like this.”

He ran a hand through his limp dreads and beamed proudly. John cleared his throat and said, “Real nice. But maybe there's somebody-”

“You said something about the board of governors,” Ronon interrupted again. Juzo exploded once more in enthusiasm.

“Oh, yes! Let's hurry into the city proper. They'll want to know of your arrival right away.” Juzo turned to begin walking across the clearing, turning once to make sure they were following.

John hung back to keep enough distance between them and their host to murmur, “Has there been a change to the team hierarchy I should know about? Because I could swear that I used to make the decisions on missions.”

Ronon seemed untroubled by the implied accusation. “I remember this guy. We're better off talking to someone else. 'Sides, you guys really didn't seem to be gettin' anywhere.”

John wanted to make a cutting remark so he could avoid admitting the truth of that, but Teyla had seen an opening and taken it.

“I assume,” she said to Ronon, “that you can explain why these people seem to have changed the emphasis of their entire culture to emulate you?”

With a one-shouldered shrug, the big guy responded, “They formed a wrong impression the first time I was here. Next time I came, they'd changed everything. No one was more surprised than me.”

Once they'd passed through the treeline and into the city, Juzo began the play tour guide, enthusiastically pointing out the archery range (the trunks of the trees behind the hay bale-mounted targets were absolutely riddled with gashes and puncture marks), the cross-country trail (upon which lay a woman having her ankle wrapped and her arm splinted), and the newly finished obstacle course.

“I designed it myself,” Juzo stated proudly. “It is the most challenging course we've ever had. Our runners have been using it for less than a week, and already seven of them have been injured.”

John reflected on the obvious pride in this announcement. “Don't get me wrong, Juzo - I'm sure you did a great job designing the course - but if seven people have gotten hurt trying to run it, maybe a little tweaking's in order. You know, for safety's sake.”

Juzo waved a hand dismissively. “Their injuries will only make them stronger.” He beamed at Ronon.

“Injuries do not make people stronger,” Teyla said. Her voice was velvet-covered steel. “To subject your athletes to a dangerous course is not very responsible. It benefits no one to subject people to pain for no reason.”

John found himself thinking of their stick-fighting sessions and wondered if he should risk calling hypocrisy.

“Injuries,” Juzo intoned, “are part of being a runner. Pain is simply an incentive to keep moving.”

“Well, yeah,” John countered, “in a life-threatening situation. On a training course, pain's a signal that you're doing something wrong.”

Juzo's facial expression was becoming less and less tolerant. “Clearly, we have very different philosophies.”

Ronon pointed to one of the many once-grand structures in the city that seemed to have been left to fend for itself against time and weather. “That still the place where the governors meet?”

“Yes,” Juzo said, clearly elated that Ronon would deign to remember such a detail, “but they'll all be at their respective training stations now. I'll need to sound the summoning signal inside.”

“Great,” Ronon said, starting toward the building. “Let's go sound it.”

Teyla glanced at John before following. Juzo had already started, taking a series of quick strides to catch up and walk next to Ronon. John called, “Right. Ronon, you take point. I'll watch our six.” His peripheral vision caught Teyla's turn of her head but he refused to look at her.

* * * * * *

They'd had to take the long way around to reach the Gymnasium Formerly Known as Observatory in order to avoid running into any more Surrosan citizens. After miles' worth of walking around literally joined at the hip and shoulder with Tarru, Rodney had developed a unique understanding of what life as a conjoined twin must be like. He had a crazy urge to sit down once he got back to Atlantis and send Jeannie a heartfelt email thanking her profusely for not developing from the same fertilized egg as him.

As they stood with their backs pressed against a wall on the backside of the building, waiting for Tarru to be sure that no one would see them as they sneaked in, Rodney took stock of what he could see of the city. The buildings in the immediate area seemed well-built but poorly maintained, the paved areas in general were in need of attention, and all the vegetation showed signs of neglect. Clearly this culture's sudden rejection of a science and engineering emphasis was taking its toll on the city's infrastructure and upkeep.

The gymnasium, as one of the newest buildings, was still in pretty good shape, if a little weird-looking. That's to be expected, Rodney supposed; if you start constructing an observatory and switch to building a gym midstream, you're bound to get a result with a bit of an identity crisis.

“Come on!” hissed Tarru, pulling him toward her. They slipped through the back door, assumed conjoined-twin positions, and hobbled hurriedly down a corridor.

“Where's this lab of yours?” He thought he was whispering, but she still shushed him harshly.

“Up those stairs, two levels, to the left, all the way down the corridor.”

“Well, naturally. It couldn't be one of these rooms right here on the main level, could it? That would be too easy. We can't have- Ow! That was my foot!”

“I know. If you don't lower your voice, I will make sure the next kick finds something more sensitive before they find us take us into custody.”

“All you had to do was ask, you know. I'm not an unreas- Ow! Stop that!”

Excited voices suddenly had them dragging each other into a nearby alcove. “What's happening?” Rodney demanded.

“Here,” Tarru said, “let me give you a full report, since I'm obviously in a position to know what's going on given that I've spent the last few hours right beside- Ow!”

“Quiet!”

A man and a woman, each sporting incongruous, poorly executed dreadlocks, hurried past their alcove on their way to the stairs. “You really think it's true? He's come back after all this time?”

“Narvan saw him,” the woman answered. “He just walked in on the personal combat class.”

“Where are they now?”

“I hear they are headed to the governors' building.”

“Let's hurry, then.”

The voices trailed away. “Who are they talking about?” Rodney asked.

“Who cares? Whoever it is has given us the distraction we need. Come on.”

The lab was a cluttered room filled with disparate kinds of scientific instruments and supplies. It looked like technological yard sale. “You really could pick up the place when you know you're having company,” Rodney said, wrinkling his nose. “Now, where are the components for this stupid machine of yours?”

“Over here.” She led him to a corner, pushing objects out of her way with a casual kick and a careless shove. Rodney cringed every time something rattled or crashed.

He looked at the object on the table she pointed to, picking it up and turning it over as he examined it. “Well done,” he said. “This is wholly and completely not what I asked you for. It is in fact very far removed from what I asked for.”

“We'll fix ourselves in a while,” Tarru said. “First, I want you to help me strike the first blow for the rebellion.”

“You know, you should see a doctor about your problems with retention. I distinctly remember telling you that I would not be assisting in any coup attempts.”

“You won't have to do a thing! Just show me how to work this thing. Show me what to do so I can start the rebellion, and then I'll show you to the things you need to fix the brain thing.”

“You'll really do that? You'll let me fix the stupid device if I show you how to work this thing?”

“Yes! Absolutely!” she said, beaming. She had quite a nice smile for a scientist with no discernible scientific knowledge or aptitude.

Rodney looked it over again, opened a compartment, looked around on the table and picked up a cylinder, and popped it into the compartment. He closed the compartment and slid a lever to make a locking sound. “That should do it.”

Tarru looked eager. “Okay, what do I do now?”

“Do? Oh, nothing, really. Just...” He raised the object, which had a long projecting barrel in front, and pointed it at Tarru, who gasped and raised her hands reflexively. “... smile!”

Rodney pushed a button. Tarru gave a tiny shriek as the object clicked and whirred. Rodney turned a crank until a thick piece of paper began to emerge from the side of the device. He ripped it out and looked at it, chuckled, and handed it to Tarru. “There you go. Not very flattering, but I think it captures your utter cluelessness rather well.”

“You... you...” She decided to express herself by slapping at his upper body repeatedly. “Why didn't you just tell me it was an image-making device?”

“Because I wanted you to see just how... stop! Just how ridic- will you stop? I wanted you to see how ridiculous it is for you to even be thinking about launching some kind of revolution when you can't even tell the lethal from the benign.”

“I'm perfectly capable of learning. I just need someone to teach me!”

“I'm teaching you right now!” He held up the camera. “You can't tell a piece of photographic equipment from a... from a...” He glanced around nearby and finally selected a large bazookalike object. “...from something that looks to be a light intensifier that functions as an energy weapon. Hm. Neat.”

He put it and the camera down and grabbed her by the shoulders. “I know you're unhappy with your life and believe me, I can sympathize with that. But if you try to use weaponry you don't understand and don't know how to use, you're only going to hurt people and do a lot of damage. I'm telling you this for your own good. Now: where's the stuff I need to repair this box? I want to be able to walk a straight line when I leave this building.”

Shoulders slumped, Tarru looked near tears again. Rodney felt a little brutish, but hell, it was all in her best interest as well as his. She showed him to another table. “Here. This is the stuff I used to make the device. There should be enough extra parts for you to repair it. In fact, I'm sure you'll make it work a whole lot better.”

She plopped onto a stool and slouched dejectedly. Yeah, he was definitely feeling like a prick now.

“You know, I wouldn't mind if you, uh, wanted to, you know... watch me work. You might learn some things. Not that I'd be narrating every move and I could only take time to answer a very few questions, but just watching someone of my caliber would undoubtedly be instructive.”

Dully, she looked at him and shook her head before resuming staring at the floor.

Okay, then. He may be a prick, but he had made the offer. Forcing himself to forget about her for a while, he set about figuring out how to repair the device and restore their equilibrium... and his freedom.

* * * * * *

“I still don't understand,” said Banar, one of the seven-member Surrosan board of governors seated at the large oval table. She had white hair that was far too thin to make respectable dreadlocks. “Why have you come back now, Ronon, if not to judge our progress?”

Teyla could see that John had had just about enough of not being acknowledged as the leader. “As I said a few minutes ago, we're only here because our investigation brought us here. We're not here to check up on anybody.”

Tamma, a small, thin man whose brownish-black hair actually looked fairly good in this style, frowned. “And... who are you, again?”

Clearly controlling his temper, John repeated his rank and name. “Ronon is part of my team.”

“This team... you compete athletically?”

Sensing an impending diplomatic breach, Teyla stepped in. “No. We visit different worlds to explore and to trade.”

“And these... explorations and trading missions,” said Banar, “they are... peaceful?”

“Of course!” John said. “Why would you think they aren't?”

“It is hard not to notice, Col. Sheppard, that you travel... heavily armed. Or am I wrong in thinking that large object you carry is a weapon?”

“You're not wrong, Banar,” Teyla answered. “We have not always received friendly treatment in our travels. We arm ourselves for defense, not aggression.”

Juzo impatiently entered the conversation. “I'm willing to accept Col. Sheppard's word for who they are and why they have come.”

Banar smiled at him. Teyla did not think it was a friendly expression. “According to Col. Sheppard, they are not here to evaluate your achievements in transforming our society, Juzo.”

Scowling, Juzo said, “I understand. But that doesn't preclude Ronon from having a look around, does it? He is responsible for all that we've accomplished; I'm sure he's anxious to see just what that is.”

Teyla was filled with curiosity. How - and more importantly, why - had Ronon convinced these people to alter their entire way of life?

“I'm not responsible,” Ronon said.

There was a moment of rather shocked silence before Juzo laughed far too heartily. “He's joking, of course. Everyone knows that it was Ronon's influence that set our transformation in motion.”

“That was your doing,” Ronon stated flatly. “I never told you to change how you lived.”

“You didn't?” Tamma said rather shrilly. To Juzo, he repeated, “He didn't? You always said-”

“I said that my conversations with Ronon gave me the blueprint for this new societal order. I never claimed he actually told us to do anything!”

“You suggested that he was some sort of religious figure,” Banar said. “You told us that he had been blessed by the Ancestors, that he had immunity from the Wraith. You said that if we followed his example, the Ancestors would bless us, too.”

Ronon snorted and shook his head. “Wraith can't feed on me. It's a genetic fluke. The Wraith use people like me to practice their hunting.”

Another of the governors, Brahno, spoke up. “They... hunt you?”

“They did,” John said, “until our doctor removed their tracking implant. He's no longer being hunted.”

“That is wonderful,” Juzo said briskly. “But it only further proves Ronon's blessing by the Ancestors. It is my job as chief cleric to interpret matters of spiritual import. That is exactly what I did when Ronon first happened upon our world.”

Brahno, a hefty but quiet man, turned to Juzo. “I'm curious to learn more about your process of spiritual interpretation, Juzo. Specifically how you translated Ronon's tragic enslavement by the Wraith into a call to abandon our highly productive lifestyle for one that has plunged this city into emotional depression and financial hardship, and wrought epidemic levels of physical injury.”

A weight lifted from Teyla's heart as it became clear that Ronon had not, in fact, deliberately triggered the changes that had derailed a society she had always admired. But her anger hadn't dissipated; it had merely found a different target.

“Am I to understand,” she asked Juzo rather severely, “that you initiated a complete restructuring of your society simply because you met a man who could not be fed upon by the Wraith?”

Juzo bristled, understandably; as an outsider, Teyla really had no right to accuse or censure him. She realized, however, the she didn't really care.

“That's an oversimplification!” Juzo growled. “Meeting Ronon gave me a new perspective. We've always lived in the shadow of the Wraith. He had actually fought them and won.”

Tamma snorted. “He didn't win. He was just genetically incapable of being fed upon.”

“I've killed Wraith,” Ronon said. “Lots of 'em.”

A little thrill of admiration ran through the board of governors. Teyla saw John shifting his weight and looking vaguely unsatisfied and realized he was fighting the urge to announce that he, too, had killed many Wraith. She rolled her eyes. She would ensure he received extra correction for this ridiculous vanity the next time they sparred.

“It wasn't his killing of Wraith that interested me,” Juzo insisted. “It was the circumstances of his life. He spent his life on the run, eluding capture even as he hunted his pursuers. He had to be ready, at a moment's notice, to fight, to defend himself, to flee. There was a kind of... purity... to his existence.”

Teyla looked at Ronon to see how he was reacting to this unconventional assessment of his prior life. His face was a gathering of storm clouds.

“Just look at him!” Juzo commanded. “He is lean and hard and strong. He can run like a cat and fight like a demon. A finer specimen you'll never see in your life.”

Ronon gazed darkly at Juzo. John cleared his throat softly, looking a little upset, as though the implication of his inferiority as a “specimen” was gravely insulting. Yes, he would definitely be getting a few lessons in their next session.

Banar shook her head. “But clearly Ronon was already predisposed to a physical life. He was a warrior.”

“You're missing the point,” Juzo told her. He turned to Ronon. “You told me a little about your home world, remember? He comes from a world that was much like ours - highly developed technologically, although they were far more inclined toward weapons development. And they fell to the Wraith in spite of all their hardware.”

“I still seem to be missing your point,” Banar said dryly.

With a noise of frustration, Juzo said, “I thought long and hard about the implications of the fate of Ronon's world, about what it implied about the Ancestors and their preferences. Clearly, a life focused on science and technology had not been rewarded with safety.

“But,” and here Juzo's eyes began to gleam with enthusiasm, “look what happened when all that technology had been taken away. Stripped of all but his absolute necessities, Ronon began to train his body ever harder to meet the challenges of his hard life. He was forced to live simply, often primitively. And he often had to swallow pain and keep moving to avoid capture. He had to run while injured - sometimes severely injured - or face death at the hands of the Wraith.

“Ronon made these sacrifices, and the Ancestors smiled upon him! They rewarded him by keeping him alive, and now we learn that he finally found a measure of safety and comfort with a new people on a new world.”

“A new people,” said Brahno, eyeing John's P-90, “who seem to have embraced technology with some enthusiasm. Your logic is flawed, Juzo. I knew you were bad with the sciences, but I had always thought you'd found your calling in the realm of the spiritual. Now I see that you're just as incompetent in that field, and as a result, our culture has paid a terrible price!”

“What do you know of the spiritual? You build knee-braces!”

“And your designs create the demand for knee-braces!”

As the meeting devolved into a shouting match, Teyla found herself reminded of Rodney, belatedly once more.

“All riiiight!” John shouted, managing to gain everyone's attention. “Now, I appreciate that you've got some internal stuff to work out here, but we're here to find our friend, and that's gotta take precedence. So, can anyone tell us where to find a young woman who doesn't wear her hair like Ronon's?”

Absolute silence greeted the question. Finally, Banar spoke. “Why do you ask that?”

“Our investigation indicates that our friend may have been taken by a woman who wears her hair in your traditional style,” Teyla answered.

She watched, puzzled, as every governor turned an accusatory gaze on Juzo.

“Is there no end to the havoc you can wreak on our people?” Brahno demanded quietly.

Teyla glanced confusedly at John. He seemed to share her lack of comprehension and sought to make sense of what was happening. “Unless you guys have a brilliant make-up department, or some kick-ass sex-change technology,” John said, “I'm afraid I don't see how Juzo can be blamed for our friend's kidnapping.”

“I think I do,” Ronon said unexpectedly. He looked at Juzo. “How's your daughter?”

* * * * * *

“All my life,” Tarru said morosely, “I watched my fellow citizens study and experiment and think and plan and build.”

“Uh huh,” Rodney answered automatically, not really listening. Okay, yeah, this was definitely the component that controlled selection of the area of the brain to be affected.

“They were always so productive, so filled with purpose,” she continued.

“Mm hm.” So this part went here, and that one must... oh, cool.

“I wanted that for myself. I wanted a life of purpose and concrete accomplishment. I think that sort of upset my father.”

“Ah!” Father, right, whatever. He needed the part that controlled range - wonder what it looked like? The old one had been crushed to powder.

“You see, he had tried many different fields earlier in his life - architecture, construction, design, even triage medicine - but he wasn't successful in any of them. He was bitterly disappointed.”

“Huh? Who was?”

“My father! Aren't you listening?”

“Oh. Him. Sure. Go on.” Ah! There was the component he was looking for. It had to be.

“Eventually he gave up and entered into a religious life. That he seemed to be good at; after a while, he became chief cleric.”

“Huh.” Yes! It was the range controller. Now to adjust it...

“Something happened when I was younger,” Tarru continued. “Some guy came through the ring who really impressed my father. I was absorbed in the stars; I didn't pay much attention. But I should have, you see, because after that, everyone started talking about how technology wasn't the answer, and that the Ancestors rewarded physical stamina. Stuff like that.”

“Yeah.” It wasn't fitting, it wasn't fitting... There! Perfect.

“That shift changed my life. Took my life away, really.”

“Mm.”

“But today... Today, I'm taking it all back. I'm taking everyone's lives back for them. I'm going to put things back the way they were.”

“Yeah, okay.” Now to secure it all. Where'd that screwdriver get to? There it was. Turning, turning, turning...

“Got it!” shouted Rodney. The repair had been astonishingly quick; he'd really outdone himself this time. Twisting the dial carefully, he took a hesitant step, then another and another and another. “Yes! I could pass a field sobriety test with no trouble at all now.” He looked around. “Tarru? Where are you? Try to walk. How do you feel now?”

“Wonderful,” she said, her voice coming from behind him. He turned to see her leaning slightly out a window. “Watch this - let's see if all those archery sessions have paid off.”

He shouldn't feel too badly about what happened next. Even if he'd immediately noticed that she was wielding that energy weapon, he was too far away to have stopped her from firing. Still, he would always be disturbed by the memory of the little war whoop she gave as she pulled the trigger.

Star Trek always made it look like firing an energy weapon had no more impact on the user than turning on a laser pointer. Of course, Ronon's weapon seemed to lack a kick as well. This particular weapon, however? Yeah, not so much. The gun dispensed a massive sphere of fire, kind of like a giant flaming musket ball, and sounded like a small cannon. The fireball tore across the city, connected with something that looked like a playground, and boom! No more playground, but lots and lots of smoke and small fires.

The recoil from the shot sent Tarru flying backward, slamming her against a work table. Rodney ran to her side where she lay, stunned and blinking.

“Are you okay?”

“I... I think so.”

“Good! Because I am totally gonna kick your ass for that later! What the hell were you thinking?” He stood and looked out the window at the devastation. “You torched a playground! You might have... oh, god! Were there any kids out there?”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? Are you sure? How can you be sure?”

“Because! That wasn't a playground.”

He started to turn away from the window to argue that he certainly knew a playground when he saw one when his attention was caught by a stream of people running out of various buildings and toward the site of the destruction. “Good god, everyone here wears dreadlocks? Oh wait, not everyone; there's a guy with spiky... Hey! Hey, that's... that's my team! They found me! I can't believe... John! JOHN! TEYLA! Up here! RONON! Hey! Oh, screw this. I'm going down there.”

“Wait!” Tarru wailed, getting to her feet. “You can't just leave me! What about the revolution?”

“Start it without me,” he said, snickering at the stupid joke she had no way of understanding, and ran out of the lab.

“I already did!” he heard her yelling.

Getting out of the building was a lot faster than coming in, now that he didn't give a shit who saw him. Once outside, he just followed the crowd as they all headed toward the playground. Pushing past people, usually without excusing himself because, hey - he was a victim here - he kept moving until he spotted Ronon towering over everyone. The Satedan saw Rodney before he got there and nudged Sheppard.

The whole team met somewhere in the middle of the distance between them. Teyla flashed a brilliant smile. “I am so glad we have found you,” she said, pulling him close to press her forehead to his. Ronon slapped him on the shoulder hard enough to bruise the bone. Sheppard looked him up and down and said, “You okay? Ya look like shit.”

“You have no idea what I've been through! When we get back, Keller will need to do a complete set of scans on my brain just in case there's permanent damage. Although I feel okay now, but I couldn't necessarily tell if there was anything... See, there's this girl, and she's crazy, and kinda cute but seriously lacking in common sense and well, just about any kind of sense, really, and I totally, totally hate you because it's all your fault this happened, because remember that personal ad you wrote? It-”

Sheppard held up a hand. “Skip the stream-of-consciousness, McKay. We already know what happened.”

Rodney gaped. “You do? How?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Ronon. “And why the hell does everyone here look like they're staging a you lookalike contest? Everyone except the crazy chick, of course. You wouldn't believe her hair.”

“Ponytail at the crown, shaved on the sides, silvery spikes on top?” Sheppard asked. “Heard all about it.”

Rodney fumed. This was so unfair. He should at least have the satisfaction of surprising them with his epic tale of pain and weirdness.

Further annoying him was some gray-haired woman addressing the crowd. She seemed to be getting them all pissed off at some short, round older guy. Totally bald on top with reddish-gray dreads hanging from the sides like a ratty shower curtain, he looked like Friar Tuck by way of Jamaica. He also looked very put-out.

“What's going on?” Rodney demanded irritably. If they had to stay on this crazy planet, he at least deserved a little peace and quiet.

“Social revolution,” Teyla said serenely.

“Oh, don't even.”

“To add to our troubles,” the gray-haired old lady was saying, “it appears that his daughter, Tarru, has kidnapped someone from another world, potentially exposing us to conflict with his people. Obviously, this is not-”

“There she is!” cried a voice, and the crowd began to grumble ominously and murmur things like “What is she doing?” Rodney and the others turned to see what everyone was looking at.

Tarru had climbed atop of a large piece of smoking wreckage.

“That's the crazy kidnapper chick,” he said to Sheppard. “She blew up the playground.”

“'S not a playground,” Ronon corrected him. “It's an obstacle course.”

“It is not.”

“My fellow Surrosans,” Tarru bellowed. “I claim responsibility for the destruction of this obstacle course.”

Ronon nudged Rodney, who rolled his eyes. This day so sucked. He probably did have residual brain damage.

“I destroyed it, even though my own father designed it, because I consider it to be a symbol of the decline of our society.”

“You did us a favor!” cried a man in the crowd. He was wearing a hip-to-toe cast on his right leg. “It would have killed somebody eventually.”

A wave of murmured agreement passed though the assembly. Tarru seemed nonplussed, but gamely continued.

“My friends, ever since we abandoned our old ways, we have steadily slid into decline.”

“That's right!” yelled a woman.

“Our lives have been uprooted,” Tarru said. “Our focus was forcibly turned toward activities that have not allowed us to thrive.”

“We know that!” Rodney couldn't see who yelled this remark.

“We can't survive if things continue on this path,” Tarru said. “I knew that someone had to take action, and so today, I committed a criminal act.”

“Kidnapping,” shouted a young man impatiently. “We know. We heard.”

Tarru looked thrown. Rodney thought she'd probably been memorizing this speech for hours, and now her concentration was blown.

Plunging ahead, Tarru cried, “It's time for us to stand up to this oppressive system! We have to stand together as one unit and say, 'No more!' We will fight if necessary, for as long as necessary, and we will not stop until-”

“Oh, Tarru,” Friar Tuck-mon shouted, “shut up. Please, just shut up.”

“Yes, Tarru,” said the gray-haired woman. “You can stop calling for war. We've sorted it all out. The governors have decided to go back to the old ways.”

“What?” Tarru said, eyes bulging in shock and confusion. “What did you say, Banar?”

“It's over,” Tamma yelled up to her. “We're abandoning the new way of life and going back to following the path of science and learning. You can come down. You're not a revolutionary anymore.”

“We... you... but why?”

“Oh for god's sake,” Rodney yelled. “Does it really matter why? You've won, okay? Congratulations on a concise and efficient rebellion. Now get down off the wreckage like a good little nutcase before it collapses underneath you, all right?”

“Nice to see you've managed to steer clear of Stockholm syndrome,” Sheppard muttered.

Looking deflated and more than a little disappointed, Tarru grudgingly began to climb down - rather skillfully, Rodney noticed.

* * * * * *

Tarru had chosen to accompany the team back to the stargate, which made Rodney a little uncomfortable. For one thing, she was walking beside him, and hadn't they really had more than enough of that for one day? Or for that matter, forever? For another thing, halfway along the path, she'd actually taken his hand. Thinking uneasily of Katie, he considered pulling away, but feared - oddly enough - that this would hurt her feelings. He told himself he simply wanted to avoid one of her extreme emotional outbursts, but when he honestly examined his own feelings toward Tarru, Rodney was shocked and rather horrified to discover they were dominated by - of all things! - affection.

He needed to get off this planet before his brain stopped working entirely.

She chattered excitedly about the Surrosans' plans to restore life to normal. A massive clean-up effort was already underway to give their buildings and environment some much-needed maintenance, and Tarru had been assigned a team of her own for this purpose.

“We'll be identifying all the damages and prioritizing them,” she said proudly.

“How's your dad feel about all this?”

“Oh, livid,” she said casually. “He's been removed as chief cleric. I'm not sure what he'll do next. But I'm all set to start studying astronomy again.”

“Well, that's.. something.” Rodney couldn't quite bring himself to say it was good.

Once they'd reached the clearing where the stargate sat, she tugged his arm to get him to hang back. He told Sheppard, “I'll be right there,” and turned back to Tarru.

“I'd like to thank you for your help,” she said, “but you didn't really do anything.”

Blinking, he replied, “I'd like to tell you you'll make a fine scientist with a little training, but it will actually take many years of hard work, a team of instructors dedicated solely to teaching you, and your body possessed by an alien entity with scientific aptitude.”

She raised her chin. “No matter what you think, I'll be a good astronomer.”

“No matter what I think, you'll think you're good.”

Smiling wryly, she said, “I turned out to be a pretty good kidnapper.”

“You were a very lucky kidnapper.”

Her face went serious. “I should apologize for what I did,” she said, looking at the ground. Rodney folded his arms, waiting. Finally, a sign that she understood the import of her actions.

But then she looked up, wearing a sly grin. “But I'm not sorry, and I'm not a hypocrite, so I won't.”

He opened his mouth to extemporize a scorching rant on her colossal gall, her utter lack of basic consideration, and whatever other failings of hers that floated to the top of his mind while he talked. Perhaps sensing what was coming, she managed to render him speechless by grabbing him by the arms, pulling him toward her, and kissing him on the mouth.

She was... pretty good at it, actually. Good energy but plenty of control, imaginative use of tongue, excellent overall technique...

“Holy crap,” he muttered into her mouth once he'd resumed breathing.

Tarru pulled her head back just enough to say, “You don't have to go just yet if you don't want to. My family has a little cabin in the woods. We could-”

“I've already experienced the family cabin, thanks. It's a bit drafty for me.”

“That? Oh, that's just a shack my father and I built together a few years ago.”

“I see. So the engineering incompetence is actually genetic.”

Tarru pouted. “So... you don't want to stay?”

Extricating himself from her embrace, Rodney cleared his throat. “Tarru, I have to get back. The people back home won't last a week without my genius, working the many miracles that keep them all alive. And besides, there's... well, I've got a... well, see, there's this girl, um, woman, and we-”

“Oh.” She blushed (rather prettily, he shouldn't be noticing) and laced her hands behind her back, looking embarrassed. “I... I'm sorry. I mean, I...”

“Hey, McKay,” Sheppard drawled. “Is this Casablanca scene gonna go on much longer? The wormhole can only stay open for thirty-eight minutes, you know.”

And right then, looking into the smirking face of Col. John “The choice of hot alien kidnappers everywhere” Sheppard, Rodney was overcome with a sudden need to wipe that smirk away. And through some strange, kiss-borne epiphany, he knew exactly how to do it.

In a rare moment of social self-consciousness that was not dominated by overwhelming self-doubt, Rodney reached for Tarru and swept her toward him. His right hand at the small of her back and his left cupping the back of her head, he proceeded to kiss her with the thoroughness, inspiration, and determination that had made him a five-time regional science fair champion. He kissed her until her felt her knees begin to buckle, until she was soft and pliant in his arms and making cute yet erotic little whimpering noises. He kissed her until an image of Katie appeared in his mind, cleared its throat, and stage-whispered, “That's enough.”

He pulled away from her lips and released her; smiling into her wide eyes as she struggled to catch her breath, he said, casually, “Take care of yourself.”

Turning away, he glanced triumphantly at Sheppard, just to confirm that he'd watched, and sauntered toward the gate, totally floating along on utter exhilaration. That was absolutely, flat-out the coolest moment of his entire life. Well, that is to say, it was the moment of his life in which he was at his coolest; the coolest moment of his life was probably the first time he went through the stargate, or...

You know what? Shut up and enjoy the moment.

“Good advice,” he murmured with a smile, and walked through the gate.

* * * * * *

John had to admit, that kiss had been pretty damn good. Maybe not as good as Rodney thought it was, but it certainly had done a number on Tarru, who was staring at the wormhole breathlessly even though Rodney had already disappeared through it.

McKay, I didn't know you had it in you.

John sidled up to Tarru while she was still distracted. “I'll take that back, if you don't mind.”

“Huh?” Her eyes turned toward him, but took a moment to focus on him. “What? Take what back?”

“What you took from Rodney the first time you kissed him,” John said. He held out his hand expectantly. He was smiling, but he knew she could tell he meant business.

Scowling, she shoved a hand into a pocket and slapped the life signs detector into his palm. “How did you know?”

He smirked. “Let's just say I've played this scene myself recently.”

She was looking at the stargate again, wistfully. “Do you think he'll ever come back?”

“I don't know.” He started up the ramp. “Maybe he and his girlfriend will come here for a vacation.”

“You are quite welcome to stay away.”

“That's my motto: Always leave them wanting no more. Just be careful with future kidnappings, okay? Some people won't be as understanding as we are.”

She sneered at him, and John went through the gate chuckling.

* * * * * *

Stepping into Atlantis, Rodney felt as though he'd been gone for weeks. He was briefly tempted to kiss the ground, but it wasn't ground but a floor, and who knew how recently it had been mopped? People walked on this floor after visiting alien planets, after all. Not to mention restrooms.

“Welcome back, Dr. McKay.”

“Oh. Yeah, thank you... thank you, uh...”

“Chuck, sir.”

“Oh. Right.” Rodney forgot the name and the man instantly upon spotting Sam hurrying toward him.

“Rodney! Thank God! Are you all right? Where are the others?”

Okay, really, couldn't she have waited until he'd answered the question about his well-being before asking about the others? “Um... I'm not sure, really. Thought they were coming through at the same time as me.”

Teyla exited the wormhole at that moment and headed toward them. At the gate technician's greeting, she responded with “Thank you, Chuck.” She was such a show-off. Most people didn't notice it because she was subtle about it, but Rodney saw.

“Welcome back,” Sam said. “I see the search-and-rescue was a success.”

“Actually,” Teyla said, glancing at Rodney, “the search was successful, but Rodney effected his own escape.”

“Really.” Sam turned to him expectantly.

Mentally apologizing to Teyla for the show-off accusation, Rodney said, “Yes. Well, you know how it is; after you've been out in the field for a while, you develop a sort of instinct about this kind of thing.”

Sam was nodding, just waiting for him to continue. Clearly, she didn't know a thing about the instincts, which, given her years of experience, was a little disappointing.

“Yeah, so you know, you get a feel for how to deal with dangerous people, how to exploit their weaknesses, how to-”

He heard the wormhole closing and turned around. “It's a about time,” he said to Sheppard and Ronon. “What'd you guys do, take the scenic route back?”

“Sorry,” Sheppard said. “Tried to get away sooner, but you know how Ronon tends to go on and on.”

“So,” Sam said, “glad to see you're all back in one piece.”

Sheppard nodded. “Nobody had to die. It was a good mission.”

She frowned slightly, perhaps wondering if he was joking. “So, it's all okay? No political fallout to deal with?”

“Nah, don't think so.”

“No,” Rodney confirmed. “I mean, we did sort of trigger a complete overturning of the operations of an entire society, but they were headed that way anyway.”

“Oh yeah. They were on the brink of a revolution.”

“What?” Sam demanded anxiously.

“'S okay,” Ronon assured her. “It was a real stupid system.”

“What Col. Sheppard means,” Teyla said pointedly, “is that there was already great unrest. The revolution was going to happen; we just happened to be there when it occurred..”

“Good.” Sam's tone suggested she feared there was a huge “but” coming up.

“The gir... the person who kidnapped me? Wanted me to help with the rebellion. Identify weapons, tell how to use them, that sort of thing.”

“But he successfully resisted,” Teyla added.

“Right,” Rodney said, “of course. But as it turns out, the whole revolution took place in a conference room.”

“Yep,” Sheppard agreed. “We were there. It was very peaceful.”

Sam looked faintly horrified. “You brokered a revolution?”

“Aren't you listening?” Rodney demanded. “They were already about to rebel.”

“You just triggered it.”

“No!”

“Well,” Teyla conceded, “I suppose Ronon's presence could be considered to have triggered the event.”

“Ronon? Why? What did Ronon do?” Apparently realizing that she could ask the man directly, Sam turned to the Satedan. “What did you do?”

“Just told 'em the truth.”

“Truth?”

“Yep,” said Sheppard. “And it set them free.”

“You just couldn't resist, could you?” Rodney demanded.

“No. Sorry.”

Sam's voice was harder, which he'd noticed she did whenever she felt things had gotten out of control. “What truth did you tell them, Ronon? And what people are we talking about?”

“Actually, this is gonna be kind of a long story,” Sheppard said.

Rodney nodded. “He's right. We probably oughta save it for the briefing.”

“I agree, Col. Carter,” Teyla weighed in. “There is much background to tell you about.”

“It'll explain everything,” Ronon added.

They were like a well-oiled machine, Rodney reflected. It was like they didn't even need Sam. Well, until they did, of course.

For her part, Sam seemed to willing to defer the explanations until the formal briefing. “All right. Conference room in one hour. Or as soon as you're all released from the infirmary.” She put a hand on Rodney's elbow. “McKay, I'm really glad you're all right.” She turned to leave.

“Right, thanks, but well, I didn't actually say that I was,” he said, raising his voice to cross the growing distance as she continued to move away. “There's still a distinct possibility of permanent brain damage; only Keller will be able to tell for sure, and in fact, I don't know if all the scans can be done in an hour, so maybe we-”

“Can you not see she's already back in her office?” Sheppard asked. “C'mon, guys. Let's get the post-mission checkup out of the way.” He grabbed Rodney's arm to slow him and stuffed the life signs detector in his hand. “Tarru said to give this back to you.”

“I... she... when did...” Realization sank into the pit of his stomach and took his high spirits along with it. “Oh, the kiss, right? That's why she kissed me. I should have realized, I should have-”

“Yeah, guess she fooled you the first time. But you gotta wonder why she decided to give it back, huh? It's not like you knew it was gone.”

Rodney frowned uncertainly. “My kiss? You think it... I mean, you think maybe she...?”

“I think you knocked her socks off, McKay. Now let's go get your head examined.”

“You know, maybe I should try that on Katie.”

“You've never kissed your girlfriend?”

“Well, obviously, I've kissed her. I mean, maybe I should try it like that.”

“You've never kissed your girlfriend like that?”

“Yes, yes, but you're... you know what? I'm not having this conversation.”

Rodney fell silent the rest of the way to the infirmary, concentrating on recalling every detail of the way he had kissed Tarru. A kiss was, after all, governed by physics. And any valid result had to be repeatable.

The last thing he thought before entering the infirmary was that the shaved hair on the back of Tarru's head had, indeed, felt like velvet.