Warnings: Squickyness. No blood, but severe injury.
The Atlantis gate room was quiet, given that it was well after midnight and most of the city was soundly sleeping. Only one technician worked the control consoles, with the minimum security contingent of two heavily armed marines standing silent guard. Not that Rodney McKay saw any of this as he exited the wormhole behind Ronan and Teyla. He appeared to perform a clumsy pirouette as he came through the gate, so that he now stood facing the shimmering event horizon.
Rodney usually made a bee line straight to the lab, infirmary or shower, depending on what type of mission it had been. But now he just continued to stand there in front of the gate, and although he was drenched with sweat and feeling pretty damned uncomfortable, he wasn’t going anywhere. He was momentarily confused, trying to sort through what he thought he’d glimpsed from the corner of his eye as he entered the off world gate. He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and dropped his pack to the floor, waiting for the familiar flicker signaling an arrival, in this case, either the last person to leave the planet, or the MALP they had sent through days ago to monitor weather conditions on M3X-141.
Or more appropriately, “Sauna Hell”, as Rodney had come to call it over the course of the past four hours. Uninhabited for a thousand good reasons … number one being the killer humidity; number two the killer wildlife; and number three the completely depleted, piece of useless crap ZPM.
“McKay. What are you doing?”
Rodney ignored Ronan’s question, even as the big man moved closer to stand beside him. Sheppard had been slightly to McKay’s right and only a step or two behind him. Rodney had caught a flash of movement and a weird whooshing noise from Sheppard’s position and tried to turn around, but it was too late, Rodney was already being swallowed by the wormhole. In that last split second Rodney may or may not have heard John utter a surprised grunt of pain as well. He couldn’t say for sure.
Touching the radio in his ear, Rodney said, “Sheppard?”
Teyla’s voice sounded somewhere behind him. “Rodney, is there a problem? Where is Colonel Sheppard?”
Rodney’s concern was ratcheting up at lightning speed. Still no sign of John Sheppard coming through the gate, and no reply on the radio to say he was still on ‘141 either.
He yelled over his shoulder at the gate technician, “You registering an incoming traveler?”
“No signal yet, sir.”
The gate remained open, yet ominously still.
Then a crackle sounded in Rodney’s ear, followed by the sound of rapid breathing. Sheppard panted, “I stepped on something. I’m in trouble here.”
Big trouble, if the tension in Sheppard’s voice was anything to go by. Rodney immediately turned around and sprinted towards the control area. Once he was at the main console, he pushed the technician aside and began typing commands. Ronon and Teyla had followed and were waiting as patiently as possible for Rodney to fill them in.
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chiming
So Near, So Far PG Part 1 of 2
Date: 2011-01-09 12:22 am (UTC)From:The Atlantis gate room was quiet, given that it was well after midnight and most of the city was soundly sleeping. Only one technician worked the control consoles, with the minimum security contingent of two heavily armed marines standing silent guard. Not that Rodney McKay saw any of this as he exited the wormhole behind Ronan and Teyla. He appeared to perform a clumsy pirouette as he came through the gate, so that he now stood facing the shimmering event horizon.
Rodney usually made a bee line straight to the lab, infirmary or shower, depending on what type of mission it had been. But now he just continued to stand there in front of the gate, and although he was drenched with sweat and feeling pretty damned uncomfortable, he wasn’t going anywhere. He was momentarily confused, trying to sort through what he thought he’d glimpsed from the corner of his eye as he entered the off world gate. He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and dropped his pack to the floor, waiting for the familiar flicker signaling an arrival, in this case, either the last person to leave the planet, or the MALP they had sent through days ago to monitor weather conditions on M3X-141.
Or more appropriately, “Sauna Hell”, as Rodney had come to call it over the course of the past four hours. Uninhabited for a thousand good reasons … number one being the killer humidity; number two the killer wildlife; and number three the completely depleted, piece of useless crap ZPM.
“McKay. What are you doing?”
Rodney ignored Ronan’s question, even as the big man moved closer to stand beside him. Sheppard had been slightly to McKay’s right and only a step or two behind him. Rodney had caught a flash of movement and a weird whooshing noise from Sheppard’s position and tried to turn around, but it was too late, Rodney was already being swallowed by the wormhole. In that last split second Rodney may or may not have heard John utter a surprised grunt of pain as well. He couldn’t say for sure.
Touching the radio in his ear, Rodney said, “Sheppard?”
Teyla’s voice sounded somewhere behind him. “Rodney, is there a problem? Where is Colonel Sheppard?”
Rodney’s concern was ratcheting up at lightning speed. Still no sign of John Sheppard coming through the gate, and no reply on the radio to say he was still on ‘141 either.
He yelled over his shoulder at the gate technician, “You registering an incoming traveler?”
“No signal yet, sir.”
The gate remained open, yet ominously still.
Then a crackle sounded in Rodney’s ear, followed by the sound of rapid breathing. Sheppard panted, “I stepped on something. I’m in trouble here.”
Big trouble, if the tension in Sheppard’s voice was anything to go by. Rodney immediately turned around and sprinted towards
the control area. Once he was at the main console, he pushed the technician aside and began typing commands. Ronon and Teyla had followed and were waiting as patiently as possible for Rodney to fill them in.