Fic: A Cave, A Cat And A ZPM - 1/3 (R)
Title: A Cave, a Cat and a ZPM
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: McShep
Genre: Comedy, fluff
Rating: R
Summary: Set during season one, sometime after Underground. The team visit M-25, a curious planet with not enough digits, no major roads and friendly inhabitants. Strangely enough, they find a cave, a cat and a ZPM.
Beta'd by the lovely kitty_poker1
“My people have known them for many generations,” Teyla explained. “They are very peaceful.”
Surely he wasn’t the only one thinking it? “Forgive me if I’m not entirely comforted by that,” Rodney said. He was careful to keep his tone neutral. Which in Rodney McKay terms meant that he was careful to snap only as much as was necessary rather than going for a full head removal.
John shrugged slowly and awkwardly. “Well, there was the whole Genii thing.”
Yeah, they were thinking it too. At least John was, and that was enough to mollify Rodney and prevent any further snark.
“That was different,” Teyla said. “I could hardly have been expected to know…”
Something on the Puddle Jumper’s main control panel beeped. A semi-transparent screen popped up and Rodney pointed. “Energy readings. Huh.”
“Huh?” John asked. “What’s huh mean?”
Rodney ignored him and watched the readings on the screen. “Huh.”
“Rodney?” John persisted. “Is that a good huh or a bad huh?”
Rodney concentrated for a moment longer. “Huh? Oh. Yes. If it were a bad huh, it wouldn’t be a huh; it would be a run for the hills. Or, uh, a fly for the hills. Or maybe stars would be more accurate.”
“Rodney,” John warned.
“It’s a good huh,” Rodney finally confirmed. “Numerous energy readings, small, admittedly, but at least there are a few scattered about, probably signalling villages or suchlike. Head for the centre there,” he said, pointing at the screen. “It’s most likely to be their central population.”
“A city?” Lieutenant Ford asked.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Rodney replied. “But let’s just say that I have high hopes that this civilisation has grasped the concept of drainage.” His nostrils twitched at the memory of the last planet and their ‘it’s good for the soil’ policy.
Teyla cast an irritated glance Rodney’s way. “These are good, clean people, Doctor McKay. As were the last. It is not their fault that the Wraith…”
“Okay, kiddies, okay,” John said. “Let’s keep all our toys in the stroller.”
“What?” Rodney shook his head. “Major, where do you get these sayings from? Actually, never mind. Land over there, would you?”
John looked incredulously over his shoulder. “Yes, sir.”
Rodney noticed that John still landed exactly where he wanted him to. Well, kind of. Maybe a mile or so to the left.
**
Major John Sheppard deliberately landed the ‘Jumper with a thud. He grinned even before Rodney opened his mouth and abruptly insulted his ability to park. John loved, no, adored winding Rodney up. Not too much, though. Every man had his limits and Rodney’s were the epitome of almost non-existent. But as long as John kept within certain parameters, he could wind Rodney up all day.
Like a clockwork mouse. Wind him up and watch him go.
And why did he do it? Because he loved the banter. He loved the snark. And he knew that Rodney did too. And the best part? That was the making up part that came when they were alone.
Rodney stomped past him and stepped out of the Puddle Jumper. “Oh, good. It’s hot enough to bake a turkey. That’ll make all the walking easier.”
John groaned and followed him out. “Don’t say turkey.”
Rodney winced and bent to check his thigh holster was done up correctly. “Ah. Sorry.” And he genuinely was. John could tell. John couldn’t tell anyone else how he could tell, but he could.
“I have a sudden craving for cranberry sauce and roast potatoes,” Ford said from in front.
This time, both John and Rodney groaned. “What I would give for a yam,” Rodney said, giving his stomach one short tap.
Teyla smiled and said, “Is that what you’re calling it these days?” as she passed them.
Rodney looked appalled and John silenced him the only way he knew how. With a discreet hand on his ass. “Actually, that isn’t what a yam is,” John said. He whipped his hand away and clutched his P-90 when Teyla turned around and said, “Oh?”
John spent the rest of the walk to the central village describing roast dinners and the contents thereof. Everyone was very hungry by the time they arrived.
**
“Zero Point Module,” Rodney explained. He drew a rough little sketch on his notepad and handed it to Tragan. He was pretty sure these people relied upon a ZPM to power their equipment. So far, Rodney had seen something that resembled an oversized washing machine, a generator that supplied disco lighting to the central area of the village and some little tiny gadgets that Rodney suspected were Tamagotchis.
Tragan said he wasn’t sure. He had no clue where their power came from, just that they had it, and thank goodness they did because how else would they keep their children quiet?
But he said he would look into it.
Tragan was this planet’s version of a Liaison Officer. He wasn’t in charge, but he represented those who were. The man was a little slow and had an annoying twitch in his left eye that distracted Rodney enough to make him miss his mouth twice while drinking his Welcoming Broth. Rodney was quite glad about that. The broth tasted like a camel’s hump: rough, lumpy and not entirely pleasant. Ford drained his own bowl dry and commented that it tasted like his grandma’s soup. That prompted Rodney to vocalise a perfectly valid assumption that Ford’s grandma was the idiot child of a backwards bumpkin.
After the fight that followed, the team were led out by Tragan into the village square where the Amejitharians treated them to a spectacular, non-stop mini-festival with dancers and ribbons and drums and big wooden plates crammed full of chicken feet and squidgy things in sacs that Rodney wouldn’t have touched even if he was dying of starvation.
Throughout the first hour of the welcoming, and somewhat noisy, celebrations, Rodney sat with Tragan and discussed the population’s situation regarding the Wraith. It soon became clear how different these people were compared to those Rodney had met on other worlds.
The Amejitharians were intelligent, cautious and, most importantly, practical. Rodney found himself warming to them, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. While these people worshipped the Ancients, they weren’t blinded by that worship. The only protection they had from the Wraith was themselves. They kept their technology to an absolute minimum and practiced a type of population control that was agreeable to everyone.
“I must say, you and your people are incredibly…enlightened,” Rodney said. He put his hand up to decline a bowl of cat’s paws and turned to face Tragan.
“Thank you, Dr McKay. Our people are great believers in taking responsibility. We know what attracts the Wraith and we do what we can to prevent them from returning. Our only regret is that if and when the Wraith pass us by, they will instead seek out another world and ravage it as they have done to us so many times. For that we are truly sorry.”
“Well, you can’t feel guilty for that…” Rodney started.
“No,” Tragan replied. “But I can curse the Wraith. Despicable demons!!!” And with that he spat on the ground, and those who had heard him did the same.
Rodney grimaced. “Just lovely,” he muttered to himself.
“If we could help another world to survive the Wraith, then we most certainly would.”
Rodney’s ears pricked up at that. So did John’s, and he came over to join the other two. “Would you consider helping us?” John asked.
“I will need to discuss it with the others but I believe that we can do more than consider it.”
Rodney and John grinned at each other.
**
“And what sort of help do you think they could provide?” Elizabeth Weir asked.
John shrugged. “Food, crops, a safe haven should we ever need it.”
“Coffee.” Rodney’s slightly sunburned face shone with childish delight. John couldn’t help smiling with him.
“They have these beans,” John explained.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Magic beans?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” Rodney said. “They make the finest blend you’ve ever tasted. Pure heaven, Elizabeth. He pushed a mug towards her and waited.
She took a sip and closed her eyes. “Oh, god. Give them anything they want.”
“Actually,” John said. “They don’t want anything.”
Her eyes popped open at that. “Say that again?”
John opened his mouth and Rodney’s voice came out instead. “He said they don’t want anything. At least they haven’t asked.”
“But I’m thinking maybe we could provide them with some basic items. Medical supplies, information, recipes,” John said.
“Recipes?” Elizabeth asked.
“Like, how to make bread and sandwiches because, damn, their entrees suck.”
“I’m afraid I must agree with the Major,” Teyla said. “Animal body parts really were not appetising.”
Rodney nodded in agreement, his face scrunching up in disgust. “The kids were sucking cat tails like lollipops and, wow, that sounds wrong in so many ways.”
Ford snickered and earned a glare from John. “Anyway,” John interjected before the conversation shifted around to second guessing what was in the white creamy desert they had been offered, “we don’t know yet what help they’ll actually offer. Tragan has to talk to the elders first.”
“And by Elders,” Rodney said, “he actually means Elders. Fully grown people.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Well, how about that. When will you return to the planet?”
“Tomorrow morning,” John answered.
Elizabeth closed her notepad and stood. “Then good luck for tomorrow.”
**
“My place or yours?”
Rodney really considered the question. “Logically, I would have to say mine, seeing as we’ve used yours the last two nights. Plus, I need my laptop…”
“You have your laptop,” John pointed out. “It’s under your arm as we speak.”
Rodney glanced down at it. “Ah, erm, the other laptop.”
“The one with all the porn?”
“No,” Rodney said pointedly. “I believe that’s the laptop you commandeered last month and never gave back.”
John grinned and ignored Rodney’s accusing glare. “Oh, yeah. So, there’s another one? Can we say obsessed?”
Rodney straightened himself as he walked and lifted his chin. “No, but you and Tom Welling can.”
“Hey, Clark Kent is hot,” John argued.
“Yes, for a Kansas yokel. But that doesn’t mean you have to talk about him every hour of every day.”
John smiled again. There was something about a jealous Rodney that was so very hot. He’d take him over Kal-El any day. “I’d love to see you in a plaid shirt. Tight jeans. Pitchfork.”
It amused John greatly to watch Rodney roll his eyes in disgust. “Really, Farm Boy Erotica?”
“Yes, really,” John answered. “I wouldn’t mind dressing up for you.”
Rodney’s step nearly faltered, John was pleased to note. “You’re just trying to wind me up,” Rodney said. “But if you absolutely insist on dressing up for me, perhaps you can do Spock. You already have the ears, after all.”
“And thank you for that, Rodney.”
“You’re welcome. And yours.”
John frowned and wondered what an earth Rodney was talking about. Rodney’s brain was a brain that changed subjects more quickly than a person could change flaming socks. “Yours what?”
“Your place.”
“I thought you wanted your laptop,” John pointed out, confused at how Rodney had come to his sudden decision.
“Well, I’m in a good mood and, all things considered, I think I deserve the evening off. And you have the laptop with the porn.”
“I think that’s a fair decision. Just one thing, though.”
Rodney shot him a worried expression. “What?”
“We’re walking the wrong way.”
John and Rodney abruptly stopped and turned the other way.
**
Rodney clutched his cloth sack full of beans. He was letting go under no circumstances. He watched John nodding at a farmer and wished they could get a move on. Coffee was calling - in a big way.
Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee.
Trade negotiations were going well. The kindly people of M-25 had agreed to provide space, supplies and labour for whatever crops Atlantis needed. It struck Rodney that these were people who could easily be taken advantage of. Still, he had more beans - coffee ones.
Yum, yum, yum, yum, yum…
“Hey, Rodney, look alive.” John motioned behind him with a tilt of his head.
“Ah, Tragan.” Rodney beamed at his new best friend and moved to meet him as Tragan walked from the wooded area around the crop field.
John shook hands with the farmer and moved to join them.
“My friends,” Tragan greeted. “I trust that everything is fine?”
Rodney lifted his beans. “Oh, yes, just wonderful.”
“And the arrangements for your foodstuffs?” Tragan asked with an indulgent smile.
“That’s wonderful too.” John elbowed Rodney as Tragan turned and headed back into the woods. “We can’t thank you enough.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you. You’ve been very generous,” Rodney added.
“It gives us pleasure to aid others. The fight for survival against the Wraith is a great battle. The coming together of our people will ease that burden.”
“You know, you’d think more people would see it that way,” Rodney said with a semi-sarcastic chuckle that made John elbow him again.
“We completely agree,” John added. “And don’t forget there’s a lot we can do for you.”
Tragan waved John’s comment away. “In time, young man. There is no rush. However, there is something else I can do for you now.”
It was almost too good to be true and Rodney was careful not to think that too much lest he jinxed them all.
Tragan pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it to reveal the sketch of the ZPM that Rodney had drawn the day before. “This…power source you spoke of, I have seen its image.”
If Rodney had possessed bunny ears they would have stood to rigid attention. “You have? Really? Where?”
“An engraving, at the caves,” Tragan explained. “Legends say that a power source was kept hidden in case the Ancients ever needed it. I believe they hid it here, on this planet, in addition to whatever mystical force powers our own devices.”
Rodney and John exchanged a curious, subtly excited look that was also an eye-fuck. It was no different to any other look they ever shared.
“Follow me.”
**
There it was. A cave, complete with an Indiana Jones-style boulder blocking the entrance and a big engraving of what appeared to be a ZPM slap bang in the middle of said boulder. John hoped he wouldn’t have to move it.
“It looks the same, yes?” Tragan asked.
Rodney ran his fingers over the etching and nodded. “Identical.”
“You think there’s a ZPM inside?” John asked.
“No,” Rodney said, dropping his hand and giving John his best you’re-so-dumb look. “It’s probably on top of a fluffy white cloud fifteen miles from here.”
“I meant still in here. Maybe the cave has been…pillaged.”
“Hey, I’m meant to be the pessimist,” Rodney pointed out. “Did you pack any C-4?” he asked.
John eyed up the cave entrance warily. “I’m not sure an explosion would go down too well. Not sure it would hold up.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it?”
“No. The point is to get inside and find a ZPM, not bring down the entire place and sift through the rubble later.”
“Hm. Good point. Maybe we could set up a clever system of ropes and pulleys, or maybe if we can get enough men we could just push… Ah, although we wouldn’t want to crush anything that might be-”
“You could try crawling through,” Tragan suggested, pointing to a small hole at the bottom left of the entrance.
Rodney squatted down to look. “Ah, yes. There’s an idea.” When he stood again, he was noticeable paler. “What an incredibly small space. Has, erm, anyone ever got stuck? At all? Ever?”
Tragan shook his head. “No one has ever tried.”
“You haven’t been inside?” John asked. “Aren’t you even the tiniest bit curious?”
“This cave is the home of vermin!” Tragan spat. “Gangleberries!”
Rodney stepped back at the man’s sudden fury. “Well, I’m not sure there’s any need for that kind of language,” he said.
“No. They are named Gangleberries. They run rife through our villages, digging up our crops and smothering our children. Parasites!”
One of the parasites ran through John’s legs and dived through the hole in the cave. It was the cutest vermin he’d ever seen, and that included his Aunt Bessie’s rat. John inwardly sighed as he remembered her frozen roast potatoes. His Aunt’s, that is, not the rat’s.
Distinctly cat shaped, the Gangleberry had long powerful legs, giant sized paws, and a bushy tail. It had big bulgy eyes and tiny ears that stood up and curled over at the top.
It was pretty darn cute.
“That’s a Gangleberry?” Rodney asked. By his delighted, widened eyes and big smile, John was pretty sure that Rodney thought so too.
Tragan nodded. “Yes. We do not go near such creatures, unless it is to cull and serve them up on a platter.”
John swallowed and realised where he’d seen those paws before. And the tails. Euw.
“I will leave you now,” Tragan said. “Good luck. Return to me when you are finished and I will arrange a great feast for you and your team.”
They said their goodbyes. John was absolutely sure there would be no feasting.
**
John’s voice drifted from inside the cave. “Clear.”
“Right. Good.” Rodney wasn’t so sure it was. “Uh, shouldn’t Ford and Teyla be here?”
John had already radioed them to give their position and set up a meeting time. Ford and Teyla were at the village, liaising or possibly just slacking off, Rodney thought, while he and John were doing all the hard slog.
“No. Come on, Rodney. I’ll protect you from the vicious puddy tats.”
“Ha, ha, it is to laugh. Actually, I’m more worried about the enclosed space and possible suffocation. Have I mentioned my claustrophobia?”
“Many times. Now, get a move on. I’ll give you mouth to mouth if it gets too much.”
Rodney muttered a complaint under his breath, but moved to kneel down at the hole anyway. He was tempted to back his way in feet first. Somehow that seemed safer. But John had gone in head first so perhaps that was the best way to go.
“Head first and stay low,” John called from the other side.
“What if I get stuck?”
“Then I’ll unstick you. Look, just take it slow and feel your way-”
“But I’m bigger than you.” It was a good point.
“There’s plenty of room as long as you take it easy.”
Rodney thought about it. He wouldn’t get stuck. No way. It was just a fear thing. “Okay, I’m not going to get stuck. I’m not going to get stuck. I’m not going to get stuck.” He stuck his head and arms in the hole and found purchase with his hands. Using the cave wall for leverage, he pulled himself forward. “Uh, I’m stuck.”
There was a brief silence from the other side of the boulder. Finally, a curious voice spoke up. “Did you remember to take your pack off?”
Rodney slid back out and removed his pack. There was a chuckle from John’s side. “Shove it through in front of you.”
“Right.” Rodney was starting to sweat. And not in a good way. “Okay. Okay, okay. I’m coming through.” With the pack pushed ahead of him, Rodney climbed into the very dark hole.
“You okay?” John asked after a minute. “I’m not hearing a lot of shuffling.”
“I’m just weighing up my options. You know, shall I squeeze forward, back up a little or just freak the fuck out!”
“Language, Rodney. Take it easy.”
That wasn’t as simple as it sounded, not when panic was beginning to settle in. “Take it easy?! My elbow is stuck; I can only move my pack along with my head; and I seem to be missing a foot! Excuse me if I find if difficult to take it… Ah! Bright light!”
The light clicked off and Rodney felt a clammy hand take his.
“What are you, a Gizmo?” John asked as he reached over to unstick Rodney’s elbow and ease him forward.
“No, no, no! We’ll both get stuck!”
“No, we won’t. Trust me.”
Rodney’s hands were shaking now, but John’s felt strong and sturdy. They weren’t hands that felt like they would get stuck. Closing his eyes - because he couldn’t see a thing anyway - he tried to relax and let John guide him. “It’s not a Gizmo. It’s a Gremlin or, more accurately, a Mogwai. The main one was called Gizmo.”
“You’re absolutely right. I love that movie.”
“Really?” Rodney fought to keep his voice steady as his hips caught against the rocks. John, true to his word, unstuck him again. “I only watch it at Christmas.”
John laughed quietly. “Well, nothing says holiday cheer like Gremlins in a microwave.”
One more awkward manoeuvre and Rodney felt the cool breeze of the cave as he popped out at the other side. “Exactly. It’s a Christmas classic.”
The light on John’s P-90 clicked on again. He waved it about the cave while Rodney composed himself.
“Uh, thank you. For that.”
John turned and smiled. It was a genuine smile, warm and kind. “Welcome. You okay?”
Rodney smiled back and nodded. “Now that’s over with? I’m good to go.”
“Good. Which way?” John swung the light from left to right to indicate two passages.
Rodney pulled out the flashlight from his pack and scanned the walls with the beam. “No markings on the walls. No indicators. It’s fifty fifty. But left has always been my best side, so how about we go with that?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Major John Sheppard raised his P-90 into position and led the way.
The pitter-patter of paws followed them.
TBC…
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: McShep
Genre: Comedy, fluff
Rating: R
Summary: Set during season one, sometime after Underground. The team visit M-25, a curious planet with not enough digits, no major roads and friendly inhabitants. Strangely enough, they find a cave, a cat and a ZPM.
Beta'd by the lovely kitty_poker1
“My people have known them for many generations,” Teyla explained. “They are very peaceful.”
Surely he wasn’t the only one thinking it? “Forgive me if I’m not entirely comforted by that,” Rodney said. He was careful to keep his tone neutral. Which in Rodney McKay terms meant that he was careful to snap only as much as was necessary rather than going for a full head removal.
John shrugged slowly and awkwardly. “Well, there was the whole Genii thing.”
Yeah, they were thinking it too. At least John was, and that was enough to mollify Rodney and prevent any further snark.
“That was different,” Teyla said. “I could hardly have been expected to know…”
Something on the Puddle Jumper’s main control panel beeped. A semi-transparent screen popped up and Rodney pointed. “Energy readings. Huh.”
“Huh?” John asked. “What’s huh mean?”
Rodney ignored him and watched the readings on the screen. “Huh.”
“Rodney?” John persisted. “Is that a good huh or a bad huh?”
Rodney concentrated for a moment longer. “Huh? Oh. Yes. If it were a bad huh, it wouldn’t be a huh; it would be a run for the hills. Or, uh, a fly for the hills. Or maybe stars would be more accurate.”
“Rodney,” John warned.
“It’s a good huh,” Rodney finally confirmed. “Numerous energy readings, small, admittedly, but at least there are a few scattered about, probably signalling villages or suchlike. Head for the centre there,” he said, pointing at the screen. “It’s most likely to be their central population.”
“A city?” Lieutenant Ford asked.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Rodney replied. “But let’s just say that I have high hopes that this civilisation has grasped the concept of drainage.” His nostrils twitched at the memory of the last planet and their ‘it’s good for the soil’ policy.
Teyla cast an irritated glance Rodney’s way. “These are good, clean people, Doctor McKay. As were the last. It is not their fault that the Wraith…”
“Okay, kiddies, okay,” John said. “Let’s keep all our toys in the stroller.”
“What?” Rodney shook his head. “Major, where do you get these sayings from? Actually, never mind. Land over there, would you?”
John looked incredulously over his shoulder. “Yes, sir.”
Rodney noticed that John still landed exactly where he wanted him to. Well, kind of. Maybe a mile or so to the left.
**
Major John Sheppard deliberately landed the ‘Jumper with a thud. He grinned even before Rodney opened his mouth and abruptly insulted his ability to park. John loved, no, adored winding Rodney up. Not too much, though. Every man had his limits and Rodney’s were the epitome of almost non-existent. But as long as John kept within certain parameters, he could wind Rodney up all day.
Like a clockwork mouse. Wind him up and watch him go.
And why did he do it? Because he loved the banter. He loved the snark. And he knew that Rodney did too. And the best part? That was the making up part that came when they were alone.
Rodney stomped past him and stepped out of the Puddle Jumper. “Oh, good. It’s hot enough to bake a turkey. That’ll make all the walking easier.”
John groaned and followed him out. “Don’t say turkey.”
Rodney winced and bent to check his thigh holster was done up correctly. “Ah. Sorry.” And he genuinely was. John could tell. John couldn’t tell anyone else how he could tell, but he could.
“I have a sudden craving for cranberry sauce and roast potatoes,” Ford said from in front.
This time, both John and Rodney groaned. “What I would give for a yam,” Rodney said, giving his stomach one short tap.
Teyla smiled and said, “Is that what you’re calling it these days?” as she passed them.
Rodney looked appalled and John silenced him the only way he knew how. With a discreet hand on his ass. “Actually, that isn’t what a yam is,” John said. He whipped his hand away and clutched his P-90 when Teyla turned around and said, “Oh?”
John spent the rest of the walk to the central village describing roast dinners and the contents thereof. Everyone was very hungry by the time they arrived.
**
“Zero Point Module,” Rodney explained. He drew a rough little sketch on his notepad and handed it to Tragan. He was pretty sure these people relied upon a ZPM to power their equipment. So far, Rodney had seen something that resembled an oversized washing machine, a generator that supplied disco lighting to the central area of the village and some little tiny gadgets that Rodney suspected were Tamagotchis.
Tragan said he wasn’t sure. He had no clue where their power came from, just that they had it, and thank goodness they did because how else would they keep their children quiet?
But he said he would look into it.
Tragan was this planet’s version of a Liaison Officer. He wasn’t in charge, but he represented those who were. The man was a little slow and had an annoying twitch in his left eye that distracted Rodney enough to make him miss his mouth twice while drinking his Welcoming Broth. Rodney was quite glad about that. The broth tasted like a camel’s hump: rough, lumpy and not entirely pleasant. Ford drained his own bowl dry and commented that it tasted like his grandma’s soup. That prompted Rodney to vocalise a perfectly valid assumption that Ford’s grandma was the idiot child of a backwards bumpkin.
After the fight that followed, the team were led out by Tragan into the village square where the Amejitharians treated them to a spectacular, non-stop mini-festival with dancers and ribbons and drums and big wooden plates crammed full of chicken feet and squidgy things in sacs that Rodney wouldn’t have touched even if he was dying of starvation.
Throughout the first hour of the welcoming, and somewhat noisy, celebrations, Rodney sat with Tragan and discussed the population’s situation regarding the Wraith. It soon became clear how different these people were compared to those Rodney had met on other worlds.
The Amejitharians were intelligent, cautious and, most importantly, practical. Rodney found himself warming to them, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. While these people worshipped the Ancients, they weren’t blinded by that worship. The only protection they had from the Wraith was themselves. They kept their technology to an absolute minimum and practiced a type of population control that was agreeable to everyone.
“I must say, you and your people are incredibly…enlightened,” Rodney said. He put his hand up to decline a bowl of cat’s paws and turned to face Tragan.
“Thank you, Dr McKay. Our people are great believers in taking responsibility. We know what attracts the Wraith and we do what we can to prevent them from returning. Our only regret is that if and when the Wraith pass us by, they will instead seek out another world and ravage it as they have done to us so many times. For that we are truly sorry.”
“Well, you can’t feel guilty for that…” Rodney started.
“No,” Tragan replied. “But I can curse the Wraith. Despicable demons!!!” And with that he spat on the ground, and those who had heard him did the same.
Rodney grimaced. “Just lovely,” he muttered to himself.
“If we could help another world to survive the Wraith, then we most certainly would.”
Rodney’s ears pricked up at that. So did John’s, and he came over to join the other two. “Would you consider helping us?” John asked.
“I will need to discuss it with the others but I believe that we can do more than consider it.”
Rodney and John grinned at each other.
**
“And what sort of help do you think they could provide?” Elizabeth Weir asked.
John shrugged. “Food, crops, a safe haven should we ever need it.”
“Coffee.” Rodney’s slightly sunburned face shone with childish delight. John couldn’t help smiling with him.
“They have these beans,” John explained.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Magic beans?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” Rodney said. “They make the finest blend you’ve ever tasted. Pure heaven, Elizabeth. He pushed a mug towards her and waited.
She took a sip and closed her eyes. “Oh, god. Give them anything they want.”
“Actually,” John said. “They don’t want anything.”
Her eyes popped open at that. “Say that again?”
John opened his mouth and Rodney’s voice came out instead. “He said they don’t want anything. At least they haven’t asked.”
“But I’m thinking maybe we could provide them with some basic items. Medical supplies, information, recipes,” John said.
“Recipes?” Elizabeth asked.
“Like, how to make bread and sandwiches because, damn, their entrees suck.”
“I’m afraid I must agree with the Major,” Teyla said. “Animal body parts really were not appetising.”
Rodney nodded in agreement, his face scrunching up in disgust. “The kids were sucking cat tails like lollipops and, wow, that sounds wrong in so many ways.”
Ford snickered and earned a glare from John. “Anyway,” John interjected before the conversation shifted around to second guessing what was in the white creamy desert they had been offered, “we don’t know yet what help they’ll actually offer. Tragan has to talk to the elders first.”
“And by Elders,” Rodney said, “he actually means Elders. Fully grown people.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Well, how about that. When will you return to the planet?”
“Tomorrow morning,” John answered.
Elizabeth closed her notepad and stood. “Then good luck for tomorrow.”
**
“My place or yours?”
Rodney really considered the question. “Logically, I would have to say mine, seeing as we’ve used yours the last two nights. Plus, I need my laptop…”
“You have your laptop,” John pointed out. “It’s under your arm as we speak.”
Rodney glanced down at it. “Ah, erm, the other laptop.”
“The one with all the porn?”
“No,” Rodney said pointedly. “I believe that’s the laptop you commandeered last month and never gave back.”
John grinned and ignored Rodney’s accusing glare. “Oh, yeah. So, there’s another one? Can we say obsessed?”
Rodney straightened himself as he walked and lifted his chin. “No, but you and Tom Welling can.”
“Hey, Clark Kent is hot,” John argued.
“Yes, for a Kansas yokel. But that doesn’t mean you have to talk about him every hour of every day.”
John smiled again. There was something about a jealous Rodney that was so very hot. He’d take him over Kal-El any day. “I’d love to see you in a plaid shirt. Tight jeans. Pitchfork.”
It amused John greatly to watch Rodney roll his eyes in disgust. “Really, Farm Boy Erotica?”
“Yes, really,” John answered. “I wouldn’t mind dressing up for you.”
Rodney’s step nearly faltered, John was pleased to note. “You’re just trying to wind me up,” Rodney said. “But if you absolutely insist on dressing up for me, perhaps you can do Spock. You already have the ears, after all.”
“And thank you for that, Rodney.”
“You’re welcome. And yours.”
John frowned and wondered what an earth Rodney was talking about. Rodney’s brain was a brain that changed subjects more quickly than a person could change flaming socks. “Yours what?”
“Your place.”
“I thought you wanted your laptop,” John pointed out, confused at how Rodney had come to his sudden decision.
“Well, I’m in a good mood and, all things considered, I think I deserve the evening off. And you have the laptop with the porn.”
“I think that’s a fair decision. Just one thing, though.”
Rodney shot him a worried expression. “What?”
“We’re walking the wrong way.”
John and Rodney abruptly stopped and turned the other way.
**
Rodney clutched his cloth sack full of beans. He was letting go under no circumstances. He watched John nodding at a farmer and wished they could get a move on. Coffee was calling - in a big way.
Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee.
Trade negotiations were going well. The kindly people of M-25 had agreed to provide space, supplies and labour for whatever crops Atlantis needed. It struck Rodney that these were people who could easily be taken advantage of. Still, he had more beans - coffee ones.
Yum, yum, yum, yum, yum…
“Hey, Rodney, look alive.” John motioned behind him with a tilt of his head.
“Ah, Tragan.” Rodney beamed at his new best friend and moved to meet him as Tragan walked from the wooded area around the crop field.
John shook hands with the farmer and moved to join them.
“My friends,” Tragan greeted. “I trust that everything is fine?”
Rodney lifted his beans. “Oh, yes, just wonderful.”
“And the arrangements for your foodstuffs?” Tragan asked with an indulgent smile.
“That’s wonderful too.” John elbowed Rodney as Tragan turned and headed back into the woods. “We can’t thank you enough.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you. You’ve been very generous,” Rodney added.
“It gives us pleasure to aid others. The fight for survival against the Wraith is a great battle. The coming together of our people will ease that burden.”
“You know, you’d think more people would see it that way,” Rodney said with a semi-sarcastic chuckle that made John elbow him again.
“We completely agree,” John added. “And don’t forget there’s a lot we can do for you.”
Tragan waved John’s comment away. “In time, young man. There is no rush. However, there is something else I can do for you now.”
It was almost too good to be true and Rodney was careful not to think that too much lest he jinxed them all.
Tragan pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it to reveal the sketch of the ZPM that Rodney had drawn the day before. “This…power source you spoke of, I have seen its image.”
If Rodney had possessed bunny ears they would have stood to rigid attention. “You have? Really? Where?”
“An engraving, at the caves,” Tragan explained. “Legends say that a power source was kept hidden in case the Ancients ever needed it. I believe they hid it here, on this planet, in addition to whatever mystical force powers our own devices.”
Rodney and John exchanged a curious, subtly excited look that was also an eye-fuck. It was no different to any other look they ever shared.
“Follow me.”
**
There it was. A cave, complete with an Indiana Jones-style boulder blocking the entrance and a big engraving of what appeared to be a ZPM slap bang in the middle of said boulder. John hoped he wouldn’t have to move it.
“It looks the same, yes?” Tragan asked.
Rodney ran his fingers over the etching and nodded. “Identical.”
“You think there’s a ZPM inside?” John asked.
“No,” Rodney said, dropping his hand and giving John his best you’re-so-dumb look. “It’s probably on top of a fluffy white cloud fifteen miles from here.”
“I meant still in here. Maybe the cave has been…pillaged.”
“Hey, I’m meant to be the pessimist,” Rodney pointed out. “Did you pack any C-4?” he asked.
John eyed up the cave entrance warily. “I’m not sure an explosion would go down too well. Not sure it would hold up.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it?”
“No. The point is to get inside and find a ZPM, not bring down the entire place and sift through the rubble later.”
“Hm. Good point. Maybe we could set up a clever system of ropes and pulleys, or maybe if we can get enough men we could just push… Ah, although we wouldn’t want to crush anything that might be-”
“You could try crawling through,” Tragan suggested, pointing to a small hole at the bottom left of the entrance.
Rodney squatted down to look. “Ah, yes. There’s an idea.” When he stood again, he was noticeable paler. “What an incredibly small space. Has, erm, anyone ever got stuck? At all? Ever?”
Tragan shook his head. “No one has ever tried.”
“You haven’t been inside?” John asked. “Aren’t you even the tiniest bit curious?”
“This cave is the home of vermin!” Tragan spat. “Gangleberries!”
Rodney stepped back at the man’s sudden fury. “Well, I’m not sure there’s any need for that kind of language,” he said.
“No. They are named Gangleberries. They run rife through our villages, digging up our crops and smothering our children. Parasites!”
One of the parasites ran through John’s legs and dived through the hole in the cave. It was the cutest vermin he’d ever seen, and that included his Aunt Bessie’s rat. John inwardly sighed as he remembered her frozen roast potatoes. His Aunt’s, that is, not the rat’s.
Distinctly cat shaped, the Gangleberry had long powerful legs, giant sized paws, and a bushy tail. It had big bulgy eyes and tiny ears that stood up and curled over at the top.
It was pretty darn cute.
“That’s a Gangleberry?” Rodney asked. By his delighted, widened eyes and big smile, John was pretty sure that Rodney thought so too.
Tragan nodded. “Yes. We do not go near such creatures, unless it is to cull and serve them up on a platter.”
John swallowed and realised where he’d seen those paws before. And the tails. Euw.
“I will leave you now,” Tragan said. “Good luck. Return to me when you are finished and I will arrange a great feast for you and your team.”
They said their goodbyes. John was absolutely sure there would be no feasting.
**
John’s voice drifted from inside the cave. “Clear.”
“Right. Good.” Rodney wasn’t so sure it was. “Uh, shouldn’t Ford and Teyla be here?”
John had already radioed them to give their position and set up a meeting time. Ford and Teyla were at the village, liaising or possibly just slacking off, Rodney thought, while he and John were doing all the hard slog.
“No. Come on, Rodney. I’ll protect you from the vicious puddy tats.”
“Ha, ha, it is to laugh. Actually, I’m more worried about the enclosed space and possible suffocation. Have I mentioned my claustrophobia?”
“Many times. Now, get a move on. I’ll give you mouth to mouth if it gets too much.”
Rodney muttered a complaint under his breath, but moved to kneel down at the hole anyway. He was tempted to back his way in feet first. Somehow that seemed safer. But John had gone in head first so perhaps that was the best way to go.
“Head first and stay low,” John called from the other side.
“What if I get stuck?”
“Then I’ll unstick you. Look, just take it slow and feel your way-”
“But I’m bigger than you.” It was a good point.
“There’s plenty of room as long as you take it easy.”
Rodney thought about it. He wouldn’t get stuck. No way. It was just a fear thing. “Okay, I’m not going to get stuck. I’m not going to get stuck. I’m not going to get stuck.” He stuck his head and arms in the hole and found purchase with his hands. Using the cave wall for leverage, he pulled himself forward. “Uh, I’m stuck.”
There was a brief silence from the other side of the boulder. Finally, a curious voice spoke up. “Did you remember to take your pack off?”
Rodney slid back out and removed his pack. There was a chuckle from John’s side. “Shove it through in front of you.”
“Right.” Rodney was starting to sweat. And not in a good way. “Okay. Okay, okay. I’m coming through.” With the pack pushed ahead of him, Rodney climbed into the very dark hole.
“You okay?” John asked after a minute. “I’m not hearing a lot of shuffling.”
“I’m just weighing up my options. You know, shall I squeeze forward, back up a little or just freak the fuck out!”
“Language, Rodney. Take it easy.”
That wasn’t as simple as it sounded, not when panic was beginning to settle in. “Take it easy?! My elbow is stuck; I can only move my pack along with my head; and I seem to be missing a foot! Excuse me if I find if difficult to take it… Ah! Bright light!”
The light clicked off and Rodney felt a clammy hand take his.
“What are you, a Gizmo?” John asked as he reached over to unstick Rodney’s elbow and ease him forward.
“No, no, no! We’ll both get stuck!”
“No, we won’t. Trust me.”
Rodney’s hands were shaking now, but John’s felt strong and sturdy. They weren’t hands that felt like they would get stuck. Closing his eyes - because he couldn’t see a thing anyway - he tried to relax and let John guide him. “It’s not a Gizmo. It’s a Gremlin or, more accurately, a Mogwai. The main one was called Gizmo.”
“You’re absolutely right. I love that movie.”
“Really?” Rodney fought to keep his voice steady as his hips caught against the rocks. John, true to his word, unstuck him again. “I only watch it at Christmas.”
John laughed quietly. “Well, nothing says holiday cheer like Gremlins in a microwave.”
One more awkward manoeuvre and Rodney felt the cool breeze of the cave as he popped out at the other side. “Exactly. It’s a Christmas classic.”
The light on John’s P-90 clicked on again. He waved it about the cave while Rodney composed himself.
“Uh, thank you. For that.”
John turned and smiled. It was a genuine smile, warm and kind. “Welcome. You okay?”
Rodney smiled back and nodded. “Now that’s over with? I’m good to go.”
“Good. Which way?” John swung the light from left to right to indicate two passages.
Rodney pulled out the flashlight from his pack and scanned the walls with the beam. “No markings on the walls. No indicators. It’s fifty fifty. But left has always been my best side, so how about we go with that?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Major John Sheppard raised his P-90 into position and led the way.
The pitter-patter of paws followed them.
TBC…