“Yeah. The entrance itself is just an archway. There are two guards there now, but they weren’t standing outside or anything. They were sitting inside playing a dice game.” Ronon shrugged. “Not a big thing, to stand in the pouring rain, guarding an empty room. No wonder they’re slacking. I couldn’t see very far inside, but it seemed like there was a complex — a bunch of tunnels running in various directions.”
“It’s a maze,” Radek said. “We expect that.”
“Yeah, but did we expect power cables?” Ronon paused to let that sink in. “There were a bunch of power cables running along the ceiling. They’ve got microphones or video or something in there.”
“Which means there is something we can use,” Radek said thoughtfully. Power cables meant a power source. And any power source could be a source of trouble in his hands.
“So here’s the plan. We go down an hour before dawn and slip in. If the guards are outside, I’ll take care of them. If not, we just get past them and get inside. Then we figure out what’s going on, grab Sheppard and Teyla, and get out of here.”
“That works,” Radek said. “But first we get some rest, yes?”
“Yeah.” Ronon settled back in the hay. “Didn’t get any sleep last night hanging on to an overturned boat. We can get a few hours now and be rested when we go in before dawn.” He looked over at Radek, who was contemplating his second egg. “Better than the boat.”
“Here.” Radek handed the egg back.
Ronon looked at it but didn’t take it.
“Go on,” he said. “You are much bigger than me. I have one egg and some bread, you have three and some bread. It is fair.”
“Ok.” Ronon took it back and started to peel it thoughtfully.
Radek burrowed down in the hay, though his stomach still growled. Tomorrow they would rescue Sheppard and Teyla. And then what? He shoved that thought back down. Perhaps Sheppard would have some ideas. He usually did.
Rodney awoke in darkness, struggling up from dreams that vanished even as he grabbed at them. Just as well, really. He probably didn’t want them. Rodney groaned, rolling over and looking at the clock. He’d slept just over three hours.
Great. Six more hours of the stand down. He should sleep more. He should sleep. That’s what he was here to do. Sleep. In and out. Breathing. Sleeping.
Only not. He was wide awake, his blood surging with adrenaline to run away from something that only existed in his dream. When he needed to sleep. Because it was important for him to sleep. So that tomorrow he could go save everybody from whatever it was they’d gotten themselves into this time.
Not really tomorrow. It was a little after 9 am, Atlantis time. Days and nights didn’t match where he’d spent the last three days. Sleep. He needed to sleep. He was supposed to be sleeping. Because later today he’d have to be brilliant.
He should think about something nice. Not sheep. Sheep weren’t nice. Sheep were dirty, smelly and stupid, three things he didn’t like. He should think about something that wasn’t dirty, smelly or stupid.
Sam Carter came to mind. She was neither dirty, smelly nor stupid. Ok, perhaps there had been occasions in the past in the field when she had been dirty and smelly, but she was never stupid. And when he’d last seen her she’d been reasonably well washed.
“Do you want the Lost City?”
Rodney blinked at her. “Huh?” he said. She wore an oversized black t-shirt with drab BDUs, and somehow the effect was pretty stunning.
Stunning in the sense of she’d like to shoot him with a zat gun. She looked irritated. “I said, do you want the Lost City? Dr. Weir is going to be heading up a team that looks at the feasibility of an expedition to the Lost City of the Ancients, based on the information recovered from the Antarctic outpost. Are you interested in being on her team?”
Rodney straightened up, putting his laptop on the desk in front of him. “This is another excuse to send me somewhere other than the SGC, isn’t it?”
Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you had me sent to Siberia for six months? To go be a special liaison to the Russian program? Maybe because of that?” Rodney snapped. “Now you want to send me to Antarctica? I think you just can’t deal with the competition around here.”
Her arms came up, crossing over her chest. “You can think that if you like,” Sam said. “I was actually trying to do you a favor. Dr. Weir’s expedition may not pan out, but if it does you’d be the chief scientist on what might turn out to be the most exciting voyage of discovery that mankind has ever attempted. At least that people from Earth have ever attempted,” she amended. “But don’t let that get in the way of your ego. Of course I’m just trying to get rid of you because I think you’re going to upstage me somehow.” She turned to leave. “Never mind. Forget I said anything, McKay. I’m sure there are plenty of other people who’d be happy to do it. I’ll just call Dr. Weir and Dr. Jackson and tell them you’re not interested.”
“Wait wait wait.” Rodney hurried around the desk to get in front of her at the door. “Dr. Jackson?”
“Dr. Jackson is in Antarctica right now working on the Ancient database, since he has the most complete reading knowledge of Ancient on Earth. He thinks that he may be able to derive a gate address soon, but of course he’s not a scientist. He’s having a great deal of trouble with the technology. But if you’re not interested, I’m sure that General O’Neill can find someone…”
“Who knows more about Ancient technology than I do?” Rodney gave her a jaunty smile. “Wrong. There’s only one person on the planet who knows more about Ancient technology than I do.”
“Me,” Sam said, uncrossing her arms.
“Actually, I meant General O’Neill, but he’s probably forgotten it again,” Rodney said quickly.
“Are you interested or not?” she asked. “Because if you’re not up for it, that’s ok.”
Rodney gave her his most charming smile. “If Dr. Jackson is having trouble with the Ancient technology, I’m sure I can give him a hand.” That was smart. After all, Dr. Jackson was a good friend of hers. She might appreciate him playing nice. Jackson was just a social scientist, and couldn’t be expected to figure out anything complicated. “So,” Rodney said, “How about dinner tomorrow night? We could grab a bite after work…”
“I’m engaged,” Sam said shortly.
“Ok. How about Wednesday, then? Wednesday would work for me.”
She stared at him. “Engaged. To be married.”
“Oh.” Rodney felt the blood rush to his face. “Engaged. As in married. Not as in have an engagement tomorrow night.” He blinked. “To who?”
“Detective Pete Shanahan, with the Colorado Springs PD.” She put her hands on her hips.
“Oh.” Rodney blinked again. “You, um, like action hero types then. Shoot ‘em up stuff.”
“He’s a police officer, not a cowboy,” Sam said.
Rodney nodded. “Detective. Smart guy? Smooth, suave, that kind of thing? Laconic? Dark past? All kinds of unspeakable suffering revealed in his gaze?”
“Not so much,” she snapped. “Pete is a nice guy. He’s outdoorsy and playful and…”