A short burst of static issued from their radios; Sheppard had keyed his microphone experimentally. "On the kid world, M7G-677, we couldn't even use these while we were under the EM shield," he recalled. "How is this different?"
"I don't know yet. It's as if there's a positive intermodulation effect, although I'd be surprised if it could be predicted by a standard Taylor series…" Behind him, Rodney could almost hear his teammates' eyes glazing over. Too bad for them-he did some of his best thinking aloud, and they could just deal with it. "In any case, the energy running through this thing is amplified somehow. When I removed that crystal, I may have altered the conductive paths through the rack, and the circuit couldn't handle the load when the power was reconnected."
"You're saying we blew a fuse?" Sheppard summarized.
Still facing the panel, Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's precisely what I'm saying, except my version wasn't painfully simplistic and utterly superfluous to the point."
"So what is the point?" Ronon seemed to be in a lowtolerance mood.
"That this transporter is-or was-drawing power from something nearby. And while that something is not a ZPM, it has the equivalent energy output of one. It's likely that whatever development occurred in this facility was focused on that energy source." What had begun as a faint nudge of theoretical interest blossomed into genuine excitement. Standing up, Rodney turned toward the others. "We might get more than a weapon out of this. We might be able to, if not end, at least cut back our dependence on ZPMs."
Sheppard gave a low whistle. "You really think that's possible?"
"Possible, yes. Probable, not so much, or we'd have seen the technology in wider use elsewhere in the galaxy. But I won't be able to learn anything more until we can get into that lab and see the extent of the research."
Teyla adjusted her vest. "What do you require?"
Good question. Rodney had no idea how this energy source operated; it might have any number of unstable characteristics. He needed the transporter working, but not at the risk of causing another, perhaps larger, overload.
"A naquadah generator," he replied. "Just a small one, to provide power to the transporter when I bypass its primary power system. And a couple of other odds and ends. If we start back to the gate now, I can have the equipment here in two hours and a functioning transporter in four."
"All right, I guess we're headed back the way we came." Sheppard picked his way through the debris toward the entrance, climbing over a fallen countertop in his path.
Once outside, where he didn't have to concentrate on trying not to trip, Rodney allowed himself to mentally skip ahead a few steps. Any power source capable of sustaining itself throughout the Ancients' ten-thousandyear absence clearly had longevity comparable to a ZPM. Could it have a similar capacity? If it did, what was the tradeoff? Why weren't there wonder batteries like this all over Atlantis?
None of the answers his brain supplied to the latter questions filled him with confidence. Doranda, among other missions, had given him plenty of reasons to be wary of Ancient experimentation. Although their intentions may have been noble, the devil was in the details, and they were unequivocally lousy at cleaning up their messes. Some days he found it hard to believe that the word `hubris' hadn't been coined specifically for them. Other days he was thoroughly convinced that it had.
Still, they'd come up with some damned impressive gadgets in their time, he had to admit. And if any of their technology would help him stave off the mortal peril that seemed to lurk around every metaphorical corner in this galaxy, then he'd do his best not to appear ungrateful.
The team started up the incline that led to the gate. Teyla walked with Sheppard, listening to his muddled description of a movie he hoped the Daedalus had brought to add to the city's DVD library. Ronon hung back beside Rodney and said, unsurprisingly, nothing.
It didn't occur to Rodney to wonder why his team mate looked so watchful until a commanding voice from behind them shouted, "Go no further!"
Then he remembered the brief glitch of a life sign he'd spotted amid the trees upon their arrival. Not such a glitch after all, apparently.
The foursome spun around, weapons at the ready, only to be met by twice as many angry locals and twice as many weapons.
So much for that whole `not dead' thing.
Ronon studied the newcomers over the barrel of his gun. A squad of eight men and women had fanned out to surround the team, all dressed in fitted tunics of coarselooking fabric. Each brandished a coil of unfamiliar material in a manner that identified the object as a weapon. Long and thin, it gave the appearance of metal, but he'd never before seen metal move like a snake.
"Hi there," Sheppard greeted, his pleasant tone belied by his grip on his P-90. Ronon could see the tension in his leader's stance even from the corner of his eye. "We're-"
"Do you have no respect?" spat one of the men, slightly built with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. "Does the Hall mean so little to your kind that you would defile it this way?"
"Our kind?" Ronon repeated, standing as tall as was possible in a shooting stance. He had a size advantage over all these people, and if he had any chance of intimidating them, he was willing to give it his best effort.
"Hang on a minute." Sheppard took a step forward. His motion prompted a flurry of activity from the guards, or whatever they were. They released their metal coils, each now holding the weapon only by a rigid handle at the end, poised to strike.
Lifting one hand in a conciliatory gesture, the Colonel tried again. "Listen, I don't know who you think we are, but it's a good bet that we're not them."
Another guard, a willowy female, examined McKay from head to toe. The scientist squirmed a little under her probing gaze. "They do not resemble Nistra, Kellec," she said finally. "No raider I have ever encountered has worn clothing of this type."
"How does that matter, Merise?" The one called Kellec kept his gaze trained on Sheppard as he spoke to his comrade. "They are raiders, Nistra or not." Addressing the team, he demanded, "Where is your ship?"
"We didn't bring one," Sheppard replied evenly. "We came through that big ring up the hill."
Kellec's eyes narrowed as he considered that piece of information. Before he could offer any judgment of its truthfulness, McKay became emboldened. Studying the weapon in the woman's hand, he raised his eyebrows. "What are those, whips?" A trace of a superior smile appeared on his face. "People, I hate to break up your fun little threat-fest, but if you really want us to capitulate, you'll have to do better than — "
His haughty statement ended there. The woman, Merise, moved before Ronon could react, her whip flying out to snatch the scanner from McKay's hand and fling it to the ground.
McKay gaped at it, yet he still managed to summon a bit of outrage. "Excuse me, that's delicate-"
The end of the whip struck his wrist with a stinging slap and wrapped itself into a succession of tight loops around his sleeve. Throughout the display, Merise barely moved.
McKay's gaze darted back and forth between his ensnared wrist and the less-than-amused whip wielder. "You know what?" he offered weakly. "Forget I said anything."
That felt like provocation enough to Ronon. He took a menacing stride toward the nearest guard.
"Worthless scavengers," the man sneered, brandishing his whip.
"Hey!" Sheppard's voice carried over the group. "Let's calm the hell down." He cast a warning glance in Ronon's direction. "Everyone."
The two apparent leaders regarded each other for a long moment. There were no further acts of aggression, but neither were there any signs of resolution. The standoff was beginning to grate on Ronon's nerves.