Rodney desperately wanted to be able to wipe the sweat off his forehead. The clear plastic faceshield that prevented him from doing so seemed like a unique form of torture. On the plus side, they'd confirmed that the station gate did indeed have a shield and that its control mechanisms were contained in the dialing console. If he could get the dialer down to the planet and get it functioning, the crashed gate would be protected from the Cadre. However…
He glanced up from his work and immediately regretted the action. "I realize we're not quite where we want to be in terms of progress, but that Wraith cruiser is getting awfully big in the window."
"Think positive, Rodney." Sheppard supported the keyboard section of the console while Radek loosened the brackets holding it to the base. "How much time do we have left?"
"Of the fifty-minute estimate? Fourteen minutes."
The keyboard came free, and the Colonel staggered backward to prevent it and him from hitting the deck. "The base is attached quite solidly to the floor," Radek observed. "I believe we will need to take only the components from inside and construct an alternate casing for them later."
"All right. We can empty one of the tool kits and transport the parts in that container."
"I'm way ahead of you on the emptying part." Sheppard surveyed the hand tools strewn across the floor.
If removing each crystal and translucent circuit board was a painfully slow process, arranging them all in the tool kit so that they would be protected in transit was excruciating. In the background, Rodney's traitorous brain kept up a veritable feedback loop of anxiety. With what force would the station strike the cruiser? Would the structure crumple on impact, or would it hold its shape long enough for the venting of the remaining oxygen to knock them into some other piece of junk? Maybe out of orbit entirely? Into the planet's atmosphere?
At long last he set the final piece in place and closed the case. "Okay, time to move, and I do mean now. That keyboard section will fit through the hatch, won't it?"
"Guess we'll find out." Sheppard handed the light yet ungainly keyboard to Radek and shimmied down the ladder. The Czech tipped the piece up on its end and cautiously maneuvered it through the hatch into Sheppard's arms. "See? Nothing to it. Somebody get down here to catch the tool case."
Radek jerked his head backwards. Startled, Rodney jumped away. "What the hell was that?"
"My hair is falling in my face," Radek replied, miserably tapping his helmet. "It itches. I thought I could shake it back."
"Guys, time limit?" Sheppard reminded them, as if Rodney could have forgotten. Radek trudged down the ladder, and Rodney handed him one case and then the other before climbing down himself.
Sheppard was already halfway down the corridor by the time Rodney's boots hit the deck and he reached out to take one of the tool cases from Radek. The transition was made awkward when Rodney tried to grip the handle too close to where Radek held it, and their unwieldy gloves collided. The case slipped; Rodney juggled it, stumbling back against the ladder, where he felt the fabric of his suit catch on an edge. He waited a beat, breath frozen in his throat, and soon heard a terrifying hiss.
"My suit!" he yelled, scrabbling to find the leak. His sleeve-somewhere on the left sleeve… Both cases fell to the deck as Radek seized Rodney's arm and bunched the torn fabric tightly in his glove. "That won't be airtight," said Rodney, even as the hissing sound grew softer. "We need to seal it."
Having jogged back to them, Sheppard set the dialing keyboard carefully on the deck and crouched by the tool cases. "Tell me what to do, Radek."
"Second drawer," Radek replied. "Duct tape."
"Duct tape?" The higher pitch of Rodney's voice must have been due to the onset of hypoxia. "Are you serious? The pressure difference would overcome the adhesive, unless you were planning on essentially mummifying me in duct tape, in which case we'll run out of time before-"
"Time is the issue, Rodney." Radek's grip on his sleeve tightened as the Colonel unwound a length of tape and cut it with a blade from the case. "It only needs to hold for a few minutes. We will move quickly."
"You can say that again!" Rodney concentrated on slowing his respiration down to a manageable rate. His suit was losing oxygen through that tear, and asphyxiation was high on his list of worst ways to die.
Radek took the tape from Sheppard, careful not to tangle it between their gloved fingers. He released his hold on Rodney's suit and slapped the makeshift patch into place in one fluid motion. Feeling perspiration gather along his hairline, Rodney pressed his right hand down over the tape. The telltale sound of escaping air seemed to have stopped-or had it merely exceeded his hearing range?
Either way, he wasn't interested in waiting around to find out. As Radek retrieved one tool case, abandoning the other, and Sheppard once again picked up the dialer components that were the goal of this lamentable mission, Rodney bolted down the hallway.
While the infuriatingly similar corridors didn't make the route any more familiar, determination and a healthy sense of self-preservation worked wonders. Each inhalation seemed to require more effort than the last; Rodney couldn't tell whether that was a function of decreased oxygen availability or his lack of running proficiency. His vision began to tunnel-but at the end of that tunnel lay the welcoming hatch of Jumper One.
No sooner had they piled inside than Radek smacked his hand down on the hatch control. When the jumper had sealed and pressurized itself, all three men tore off their helmets.
Even Sheppard was breathing hard, which somehow made Rodney feel a bit better. "Rodney, you okay?"
"Ask again later," Rodney moaned, drinking in the cool, plentiful air. "Thank God."
"Yes, yes, now we can inhale each other's sweat rather than just our own," grumbled Radek. "Will you help stow the gear or will you stand there?"
The problem with Radek was that, on rare occasions, he had moments of seeming a little too much like Rodney. It was disconcerting.
While they secured their newly-acquired dialing computer, or at least the important parts of one, Sheppard headed for the cockpit, yanking off his gloves along the way, and wedged his spacesuited body into the pilot's seat to begin the startup sequence. Rodney followed when his task was complete and attempted to squeeze his own suit into the right seat. Nothing doing. He shot the Colonel a preemptive glare. "I don't want to hear a single joke about donuts."
"I can barely breathe, if that makes you feel any better," Sheppard replied tersely, fingers skipping over the controls. "I don't have time to take this stupid suit off. You do."
"Ah. Quite right." Rodney stepped back into the main compartment, and he and Radek reenacted the initial fumbling spacesuit debacle in reverse. When he was finally free of the wretched thing, he lurched back to his seat and cursed in sheer astonishment at the cruiser now dominating the windscreen.
"Yeah." Sheppard's voice sounded as casual as ever, even as his motions became increasingly harried. "Got a brainteaser for you guys."
"What is it?" Radek asked, settling into his seat behind them. Rodney said nothing, filled with a sudden and terrible sense that he already knew what was wrong.
Sheppard twisted as far around as the bulky suit would let him. "I can't disengage the jumper from the dock."
Chapter fifteen
Elizabeth felt the clinging dampness in the air almost 'before she fully awoke. As she became aware of the heavy canvas tent above her, and the bedroll beneath her, she was struck by a sharp, visceral memory of a camping trip to Vermont. She'd been eleven years old, and her father had dragged her out of a sound sleep to watch the sunrise over the mountains. She'd been enthralled by the colors, the whole world so still and yet more alive than she'd ever imagined. Dad had chuckled at her slack-faced wonder and remarked that everyday problems seemed insignificant next to such a view.