Round #1 Challenge #7 - Voting
Please read each entry, and comment with the number of the THREE FICS you liked THE LEAST. I know it's getting more difficult as the number of entries gets smaller, but do your best. When voting, you must provide a reason for your selection, why one fic didn't work as well as another for you. Please provide concrete reasons, and don't vote strictly by personal preferences (e.g. pairing, POV, etc.) -- however, your explanation doesn't need to be lengthy. Authors are allowed to vote, though obviously not for themselves.
You may also vote for your most favorite fic, though a reason is not required for that. Please select only ONE (i.e. no ties).
Authors will be provided with any comments their fic receives, upon request; while it will be completely anonymous, please bear that in mind when commenting.
Please include the number AND the title, to eliminate confusion. An example of how to vote:
Least favorite
31) Title - Reason
43) Title - Reason
52) Title - Reason
Most favorite
38) Title
Voting is screened, and will remain open through Tuesday evening. Voting is open to anyone, so please feel free to link to this post - but remember authors, DO NOT reveal which story is yours until the voting is finished. Once the winner & eliminations have been announced, you may post your story anywhere you like.
This week, two authors will be eliminated.
If you would like to make comments about any entries which are neither your least favorite nor your most favorite, please do so here.
01. Come Into My Parlor - PG
Filtered sunlight washed through the barred windows, warming the room slightly. Rodney lifted his head wearily off of his knees, his arms wrapped around his legs. He guessed that he must have dozed, but the cell across from him was still empty.
Tony, their jailer, must have noticed the movement. "Not long," he said calmly. "Questioner sends everyone home at dawn."
"Brilliant. Beautiful," Rodney muttered, pushing himself up stiffly. "Nice to know that a torturer is concerned with pain/homelife balance."
Tony's forehead furrowed, making him look like Cro-Magnon man. "It's not like that." Vocabulary exhausted, he shrugged, and Rodney could hear the keys on his belt jingle. Once they were back in Atlantis, Rodney was going to spend an afternoon or two learning how to pick rusty locks.
The battered radio crackled on Tony's desk, requesting that that the front door be opened. Two more guards entered, half-dragging John between them. He didn't look too bad, Rodney thought. No visible broken bones or blood, but from the way John's head was lolling around, he was pretty out of it.
They headed for John's cell, but Tony shook his head. "This one," he muttered, opening the door to Rodney's cell.
Rodney stood back as they dropped John off in the middle of the floor and clanged their way out of the building again. The moment that Tony re-locked the cell, Rodney was on the floor, running his hands over John to make sure he was okay.
John blinked wearily up at him. "Rodney. Cool." He pursed his lips. "4733. Is that prime or not prime?"
"Oh dear god." Rodney rubbed his hand over his face. "Radek should never have taught you that game." He patted John on the shoulder. "At least everything else looks in place."
"Not so bad," John agreed, laying his hand on Rodney's knee. "Though my mouth tastes like Swiss cheese." He licked his lips and rolled to his side. "Swiss cheese sounds really good, too." He stood, only a little wobbly, and waved at Tony. "Got any cheese?"
"Nope." Tony hooked his thumbs into his uniform pants. "Got some pretty good fried bread, though."
"With the berry stuff?"
Tony shook his head no. "Just salt."
"Ohh, salt." John made some pornographic noises.
"Get the drugged man some breakfast," Rodney snapped. "Or are you two going to stand around and play parlor games all morning?"
Tony blinked at him. "What's a parlor?"
"It's a room where visitors to your home sit around and are entertained, someplace comfortable and completely unlike this cell. Where you serve them, oh, breakfast."
"I ain't got no parlor. But I got a bunk," Tony said proudly gesturing at the pallet across the room.
"Cool! I have a bunk." John said, smiling. "And Rodney. He has my bunk, too."
"Yes, yes, we all have bunks. But we," Rodney gestured at John and himself, "don't have any breakfast."
Tony lumbered off, while John sank back against Rodney.
"Think he's got any cheese?"
Rodney sighed.
02. Do Not Pass Go - G
"What's this supposed to be?"
Rodney let out a loud groan at Ronon's question, while John's grin grew even wider. The colonel reached over and took the small metal item from Ronon's hand. Then he held it up so that Teyla could see it as well. "This is what we call the horse and rider."
"What's a horse?" Ronon prompted.
John shrugged. "It's an animal that's sometimes used a means of transportation back on Earth," he explained. "They're not used as much nowadays, but they used to be pretty popular."
Teyla cocked her head slightly as she studied the playing piece. "This horse is similar to the Tonucans' richta, is it not?" she asked, looking up to meet John's gaze. "I remember Aid ... Lieutenant Ford making a comment relating to the similarities soon after I joined your team.
"It can't be that similar. People aren't crazy enough to ride richtas," Ronon said with a snort.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Don't let the colonel fool you," he said. "Anyone who's willing to risk their life riding on the back of an animal can't be completely sane."
"You're not too big on horseback riding, I take it."
Without saying a word, Rodney just glanced over at Sheppard and raised an eyebrow.
"I'm also guessing you're not a big fan of westerns," John added wryly. He held up his hand when both Ronon and Teyla started to speak. "Don't worry, I'll explain later. I'm sure someone around here has at least one John Wayne movie on DVD. I might even be able to find someone who has Deadwood."
"That's just what I need," Rodney muttered.
John raised an eyebrow. "What was that, Rodney?" John asked innocently. "I couldn't quite hear you."
Rodney shot him a dirty look. "Are we going to start the game anytime soon? I've got more important things to be doing, you know."
"Lighten up, McKay," John said, rolling his eyes. "Don't forget, you're the one who agreed to help me teach Ronon and Teyla how to play Monopoly."
"Only because I was threatened," Rodney shot back. Then he flinched as he realized what he had just said.
Teyla raised an eyebrow as she glanced over at John. He quickly held up his hands in a symbol of mock surrender. "Don't look at me."
They stared at each other for a moment before turning their gazes toward Ronon. He just grinned and picked up the dice. "So how do you end up in jail?" he asked, gesturing toward the board.
03. Paintball Wars -- Scientists vs Military - General Audience, No Spoilers
Rodney jutted his chin out stubbornly. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." Sheppard crossed his arms, leaning back. "Come on Rodney, mil-it-ary." He lengthened out the word to emphasize each syllable and raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying baiting the other man. "We're trained to shoot people. Your scientists wouldn't stand a chance."
"We'll see about that."
~ 2 hours later ~
"So, you shoot each other with paint?"
Rodney nodded.
"Why do you do that?"
Rodney gave an exasperated sigh, looking at Sheppard to clarify the concept. Colonel Sheppard brought a hand up to loosen the muscles in his neck and grinned at Ronon.
"It's a training exercise. You don't want anyone to get hurt, so you shoot with paint. Once you get paint on your clothing, you're considered dead and you have to leave the game."
Ronon still looked completely puzzled.
~ Paint ball skirmish, somewhere on the mainland - Team McKay ~
Rodney paced in front of his science staff, most of whom looked rather nervous and ill-at-ease in their tac vests and protective glasses, carrying homemade paintball guns.
"Okay, we've trained for this. I've come up with an ingenious plan if I do say so myself, and we have the advantage of vastly superior intellects. Now, the aim of the game is to protect that flag." He pointed at the white flag with ‘Team McKay' stenciled in bold letters upon it. "Let's do this. Man your positions."
~ Scientists 0, Military 0 ~
Miko dashed into the trees, Ronon confidently following at a sedate jog. He aimed at the small scientist, only to find himself suddenly pelted from above.
"Ha, got you!" cried Radek.
Ronon pointed upward to fire.
"No no no, you are dead now, see?"
~ Scientists 1, Military 0 ~
"You've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?"
Rodney pointed the paint-ball gun at Major Lorne, a large grin lighting his face as he watched the Major dangle from a leg trap, his own gun well out of reach.
"Learnt that one from Ronon." Rodney fired.
~ Scientists 2, Military 0 ~
Sergeant Campbell moved quietly, Lieutenant Cadman close behind. The apparently unguarded flag was just up ahead.
click
"Sergeant, don't move!"
Too late; as the Sergeant's foot came up there was a resounding bang. Cadman scowled at Campbell as the two soldiers found themselves covered head-to-toe in bright pink paint.
~ Scientists 4, Military 0 ~
Sheppard keyed his radio, not for the first time.
"Cadman, Ronon, Lorne? Anyone? Report."
Nothing but static came back. He scowled, keying the radio off again.
He spun around at the crack of a stick behind him, weapon raised, and fired. Rodney froze, hand outstretched and almost touching the ‘Team Sheppard' flag, scowling as he looked down at the blue splodges of paint now marring his tac vest.
Then Miko, Katie and Radek dashed out into the open, firing in Sheppard's general direction.
Sheppard frowned, looking down to the random dots of pink paint now covering his uniform and back up to Rodney. "Best of three?"
~ Scientists win ~
04. Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe - General, no spoilers
"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe." Sheppard pointed at each of the three paths in front of him as he said the words, doubling back to the first one at the end.
"You've got to be kidding me," Rodney muttered, rolling his eyes.
"What?" Sheppard said, with a shrug.
"A children's rhyme? What are you, four? Next thing you know, we'll be greeting people with Ring around the Rosey."
"Ring around the rosey?" Teyla asked hesitantly, looking between the two.
"It's a children's game," Ford jumped in. "Kids skip in one direction in a circle, holding each others' hands, sing the rhyme and then fall down."
Teyla raised an eyebrow. "And this is a game? Children on your world enjoy this?"
"They're kids; strap them to an office chair with a motor to keep it spinning and you'll keep them entertained for hours," Rodney supplied.
Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "McKay."
"Oh, come on; it's not like I've actually done it."
"Anyway," Sheppard said, "Ring around the Rosey came about from one of the plagues on Earth that killed lots of people."
"Wrong," Rodney said disdainfully. "The plagues were in the 1300s, or at the latest, the 1600s. The first time the rhyme was printed was in the 1880s, and lots of different versions of it popped up in the couple of years after that. If it had been around for five hundred years, why hadn't it been recorded before that?"
"Okay, so it wasn't based on the plagues," Sheppard amended, not bothering to argue with Rodney.
"McKay, how do you know this stuff?" Ford asked.
"He had a very boring childhood," Sheppard jumped in.
"No, I didn't," Rodney defended himself. "It's just… Wikipedia can be very addictive."
"If it is not based on a plague, then what is it based on?" Teyla asked.
"Well," Rodney said as he began to head down the first path, "it may be from a ban on dancing-"
"They banned dancing on your world?"
"Only for a little while...but I think it happened more than once," Rodney continued. "Anyway, to get around it-"
"Rodney," Sheppard said, "where are you going?"
Rodney looked back at him. "Down the path you picked?"
"I didn't pick that path."
"Yes, you did. I did the silly rhyme, and this is the path you picked."
"No," Sheppard said slowly, "I picked the middle one."
"Well, you counted wrong."
"I think I can count, Rodney."
"Huh, didn't realise that was a requirement-"
"Did you use full words or syllables?" Sheppard interrupted.
"Syllables...and you used full words. Well, that explains it. So, the middle path then?" Rodney said resignedly.
"No, I think we'll stick with this path," Sheppard replied as he walked past Rodney.
"Hah! You chose my path!" Rodney said triumphantly.
"No," Sheppard pointed ahead, "Teyla chose your path."
"Fine," Rodney grumbled, trudging along after him.
"What about the rhyme you were using to pick the path, Dr. McKay?" Teyla asked, placatory.
"Has absolutely no meaning whatsoever."
"Oh."
"However..."
The others ignored him.
05. Running Backs and Shotguns - G, spoilers for The Return pt 1
Ronon hammered the last crossbeam into place and leaned his weight against it. Around him, the other builders were stopping too. He looked up at the last thin rays of the setting sun and calculated idly; noticeably earlier than the week before. Winter was coming. No one knew how hard.
The fires and torches began to light, and as always, the Athosian children spilled out into the center of the village. Some of them attacked each other with scaled-down versions of fighting sticks; Ronon could dimly make out Teyla's watchful face across the way. Some of them were throwing around a ball he thought he recognized. Others just ran full out, chasing each other or nothing, their shrieks of delight filling the air.
The oddly-shaped ball came flying toward Ronon, and he reached out to catch it before it flew to close to a torch. A whole pack of children raced up to him, led by Jinto. "I told you to be careful," he said, poking the kid who'd thrown the ball in the arm. "That's from Earth. If you break it we can't get a new one."
Ronon looked back down at the ball. "Sheppard's football?"
Jinto grabbed it from him. "My football. Colonel Sheppard gave it to me."
"I want to throw it again!" the other kid said.
"You can't just throw it. You have to line up and yell 'hut' first. Remember?"
They ran back out to the middle of the field, and Ronon watched Jinto carefully arrange the others to his liking, stopping to lecture a couple of them on proper positioning. If he looked away, it could be Sheppard out there, talking about running backs and shotguns.
"Ready? Ready? Hut!"
Ronon sat at the side of the field and leaned back on his hands. Teyla sank gracefully to the grass next to him. They sat companionably, occasionally calling out encouragement to one of the teams or speaking up to referee a disagreement between players.
"We should talk about Ladon's offer to meet with us," Teyla said quietly.
"I guess." Ronon raised his voice. "Good throw, Jinto!"
He could feel Teyla sigh next to him, but she turned her attention back to the game.
The children played until the smell of the evening meal lured them away, and Ronon and Teyla watched them.
06. Children for a Day - G
Elizabeth tried not to think too hard about why it had taken the rest of Atlantis almost two hours to realise that Sheppard and McKay had been affected - mentally regressed to childhood, in effect - by an Ancient device.
No one had looked twice at them trading whispers over a terminal in the corner of the control room, and they were long gone before every computer on the network flashed an error message referencing either cheese, melon or a Mr Jelly. Elizabeth's personal laptop offered up the opaque gem '+++Divide by Cucumber Error. Please Reinstall Universe And Reboot+++'.
The problem only became obvious when Lorne called for reinforcements to help him disarm the terrible twosome before they killed each other - or him. He'd found them in the armory, hurriedly stuffing their pockets with ammo, each weighted down by at least one of every weapon in Atlantis' arsenal.
They'd gleefully informed him that they were on their way to a Wraith hunt to get Rodney a mask 'a whole lot better than Jinto's!'
It took five marines to hold them down while Lorne and DeLargo checked every flap and pocket for ammo and hastily stashed weapons. They almost missed the knife in McKay's shoe but the limp gave him away as they were led to the infirmary.
There they spent the next few hours blasting - and almost certainly hacking - their way through every computer game the scientists and marines had had to offer. And then…
"I'm bored."
The nasal whine in John's voice set Elizabeth's teeth on edge, and nudged her into accepting Teyla's offer of respite. She was almost out the door when she heard a brief scuffle, followed by Rodney's incensed, "You poopyhead!"
The door swung shut behind her on his, "I was almost at the fortress! You-"
~~~~~~~
Teyla's soft, 'Doctor Weir?' came through while Elizabeth was in the lab with Radek and his team, translating the database entries that referenced the cubic silver 'paperweight' on Rodney's desk.
"Yes, Teyla?"
"Doctor Beckett has moved Colonel Sheppard and Doctor McKay into a side room and ordered the marines to not let anyone into the infirmary unless they are dying."
"Oh, dear G- What are they doing now?"
"They are playing a game they called 'Spin the Bottle'."
Elizabeth didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Just the two of them?"
"Yes, and I find myself confused as to the rules."
Elizabeth waited until she was out of earshot before replying.
"There are usually several players who take it in turn to spin the bottle, and whoever it points to has to kiss the one who spun it. But with only the two of them playing - are they…?"
"Oh, yes, most definitely. They are nominating body parts. Is that not…?"
"No. When you say 'body parts'…"
Faintly, Elizabeth heard Rodney yell, "Kiss my toe!"
"Perhaps food would be a welcome distraction?"
Elizabeth closed her eyes.
"Thank you, Teyla. If you can just keep them calm - and clothed - for one more hour…"
AN: The error messages are taken from Terry Pratchett's Discworld series computer Hex.
07. Marco Polo - G, No spoilers
A stream of colorful clothes, some trimmed in gold, others shimmering red and reflecting light threatened to drown Rodney in an undertow of sights, smells and sounds. Immediately to his right, a peddler waved a silk scarf under his nose, and to avoid getting clotheslined, Rodney twisted away. When he did, he found himself in the stall of a woman selling livestock and clucking chickens were thrust up against his nose. Rodney had to turn and duck yet again, only to find himself face to face with another woman trying to sell him the dried carcass of a Fifo bird.
A strong arm on his shoulder hauled him back to safety.
"I told you to stay close," Ronon grunted.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "You also told me this was a marketplace. How anyone can find anything here is beyond me."
"The Likal Market is the largest fairground that I know of. If we cannot find your material here, then I do not know where else to look," Teyla said, gesturing around.
The three of them continued to follow the throng of people. Rodney couldn't even think of slowing down to look at any of the wares being offered up for sale, the relentless flow of the crowd made it impossible. To make matters worse, twenty minutes ago, Sheppard had gone chasing after a small boy he'd caught trying to pick his pocket. The crowd had swallowed them up, and neither of them had been seen since. Standing up on his tip-toes, Rodney tried to look around.
"Marco!" The noise made everything incomprehensible. "Mar-co!"
It was only when he heard the name being called out, over and over again that Rodney finally made the connection and recognized the voice. Looking around, he smiled in relief when he saw a mop of dark hair coming towards them from a distance.
"Po-lo!" Rodney shouted back.
"Marco."
"Polo."
"Who is Marco?" Teyla asked, looking around in confusion.
"It's a game based on a famous earth explorer who didn't know where he was going when he set off for China," Rodney tried to explain quickly, waving his hand above his head to show their location until Sheppard finally managed to fight his way towards them.
"Slippery little kid almost made off with my night-vision goggles," Sheppard said holding them tight to his chest. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
Rodney shook his head. "This was a waste of time. Let's get out of here."
As they turned around to head back towards the gate, Ronon burst out laughing. "Cold, Sheppard?"
"No, why?" Sheppard asked.
Ronon pointed at the back of Sheppard's pants. The pockets where Sheppard had been holding their money had been cut and were hanging open, and his boxers were showing through some of the holes. "I don't think they were after your goggles. I'm not interested in this Marco-Polo game McKay was telling us about, but if you want to play I Spy again, I want to go first."
VOTING CLOSED; RESULTS POSTED SOON.
You may also vote for your most favorite fic, though a reason is not required for that. Please select only ONE (i.e. no ties).
Authors will be provided with any comments their fic receives, upon request; while it will be completely anonymous, please bear that in mind when commenting.
Please include the number AND the title, to eliminate confusion. An example of how to vote:
Least favorite
31) Title - Reason
43) Title - Reason
52) Title - Reason
Most favorite
38) Title
Voting is screened, and will remain open through Tuesday evening. Voting is open to anyone, so please feel free to link to this post - but remember authors, DO NOT reveal which story is yours until the voting is finished. Once the winner & eliminations have been announced, you may post your story anywhere you like.
This week, two authors will be eliminated.
If you would like to make comments about any entries which are neither your least favorite nor your most favorite, please do so here.
01. Come Into My Parlor - PG
Filtered sunlight washed through the barred windows, warming the room slightly. Rodney lifted his head wearily off of his knees, his arms wrapped around his legs. He guessed that he must have dozed, but the cell across from him was still empty.
Tony, their jailer, must have noticed the movement. "Not long," he said calmly. "Questioner sends everyone home at dawn."
"Brilliant. Beautiful," Rodney muttered, pushing himself up stiffly. "Nice to know that a torturer is concerned with pain/homelife balance."
Tony's forehead furrowed, making him look like Cro-Magnon man. "It's not like that." Vocabulary exhausted, he shrugged, and Rodney could hear the keys on his belt jingle. Once they were back in Atlantis, Rodney was going to spend an afternoon or two learning how to pick rusty locks.
The battered radio crackled on Tony's desk, requesting that that the front door be opened. Two more guards entered, half-dragging John between them. He didn't look too bad, Rodney thought. No visible broken bones or blood, but from the way John's head was lolling around, he was pretty out of it.
They headed for John's cell, but Tony shook his head. "This one," he muttered, opening the door to Rodney's cell.
Rodney stood back as they dropped John off in the middle of the floor and clanged their way out of the building again. The moment that Tony re-locked the cell, Rodney was on the floor, running his hands over John to make sure he was okay.
John blinked wearily up at him. "Rodney. Cool." He pursed his lips. "4733. Is that prime or not prime?"
"Oh dear god." Rodney rubbed his hand over his face. "Radek should never have taught you that game." He patted John on the shoulder. "At least everything else looks in place."
"Not so bad," John agreed, laying his hand on Rodney's knee. "Though my mouth tastes like Swiss cheese." He licked his lips and rolled to his side. "Swiss cheese sounds really good, too." He stood, only a little wobbly, and waved at Tony. "Got any cheese?"
"Nope." Tony hooked his thumbs into his uniform pants. "Got some pretty good fried bread, though."
"With the berry stuff?"
Tony shook his head no. "Just salt."
"Ohh, salt." John made some pornographic noises.
"Get the drugged man some breakfast," Rodney snapped. "Or are you two going to stand around and play parlor games all morning?"
Tony blinked at him. "What's a parlor?"
"It's a room where visitors to your home sit around and are entertained, someplace comfortable and completely unlike this cell. Where you serve them, oh, breakfast."
"I ain't got no parlor. But I got a bunk," Tony said proudly gesturing at the pallet across the room.
"Cool! I have a bunk." John said, smiling. "And Rodney. He has my bunk, too."
"Yes, yes, we all have bunks. But we," Rodney gestured at John and himself, "don't have any breakfast."
Tony lumbered off, while John sank back against Rodney.
"Think he's got any cheese?"
Rodney sighed.
02. Do Not Pass Go - G
"What's this supposed to be?"
Rodney let out a loud groan at Ronon's question, while John's grin grew even wider. The colonel reached over and took the small metal item from Ronon's hand. Then he held it up so that Teyla could see it as well. "This is what we call the horse and rider."
"What's a horse?" Ronon prompted.
John shrugged. "It's an animal that's sometimes used a means of transportation back on Earth," he explained. "They're not used as much nowadays, but they used to be pretty popular."
Teyla cocked her head slightly as she studied the playing piece. "This horse is similar to the Tonucans' richta, is it not?" she asked, looking up to meet John's gaze. "I remember Aid ... Lieutenant Ford making a comment relating to the similarities soon after I joined your team.
"It can't be that similar. People aren't crazy enough to ride richtas," Ronon said with a snort.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Don't let the colonel fool you," he said. "Anyone who's willing to risk their life riding on the back of an animal can't be completely sane."
"You're not too big on horseback riding, I take it."
Without saying a word, Rodney just glanced over at Sheppard and raised an eyebrow.
"I'm also guessing you're not a big fan of westerns," John added wryly. He held up his hand when both Ronon and Teyla started to speak. "Don't worry, I'll explain later. I'm sure someone around here has at least one John Wayne movie on DVD. I might even be able to find someone who has Deadwood."
"That's just what I need," Rodney muttered.
John raised an eyebrow. "What was that, Rodney?" John asked innocently. "I couldn't quite hear you."
Rodney shot him a dirty look. "Are we going to start the game anytime soon? I've got more important things to be doing, you know."
"Lighten up, McKay," John said, rolling his eyes. "Don't forget, you're the one who agreed to help me teach Ronon and Teyla how to play Monopoly."
"Only because I was threatened," Rodney shot back. Then he flinched as he realized what he had just said.
Teyla raised an eyebrow as she glanced over at John. He quickly held up his hands in a symbol of mock surrender. "Don't look at me."
They stared at each other for a moment before turning their gazes toward Ronon. He just grinned and picked up the dice. "So how do you end up in jail?" he asked, gesturing toward the board.
03. Paintball Wars -- Scientists vs Military - General Audience, No Spoilers
Rodney jutted his chin out stubbornly. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." Sheppard crossed his arms, leaning back. "Come on Rodney, mil-it-ary." He lengthened out the word to emphasize each syllable and raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying baiting the other man. "We're trained to shoot people. Your scientists wouldn't stand a chance."
"We'll see about that."
~ 2 hours later ~
"So, you shoot each other with paint?"
Rodney nodded.
"Why do you do that?"
Rodney gave an exasperated sigh, looking at Sheppard to clarify the concept. Colonel Sheppard brought a hand up to loosen the muscles in his neck and grinned at Ronon.
"It's a training exercise. You don't want anyone to get hurt, so you shoot with paint. Once you get paint on your clothing, you're considered dead and you have to leave the game."
Ronon still looked completely puzzled.
~ Paint ball skirmish, somewhere on the mainland - Team McKay ~
Rodney paced in front of his science staff, most of whom looked rather nervous and ill-at-ease in their tac vests and protective glasses, carrying homemade paintball guns.
"Okay, we've trained for this. I've come up with an ingenious plan if I do say so myself, and we have the advantage of vastly superior intellects. Now, the aim of the game is to protect that flag." He pointed at the white flag with ‘Team McKay' stenciled in bold letters upon it. "Let's do this. Man your positions."
~ Scientists 0, Military 0 ~
Miko dashed into the trees, Ronon confidently following at a sedate jog. He aimed at the small scientist, only to find himself suddenly pelted from above.
"Ha, got you!" cried Radek.
Ronon pointed upward to fire.
"No no no, you are dead now, see?"
~ Scientists 1, Military 0 ~
"You've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?"
Rodney pointed the paint-ball gun at Major Lorne, a large grin lighting his face as he watched the Major dangle from a leg trap, his own gun well out of reach.
"Learnt that one from Ronon." Rodney fired.
~ Scientists 2, Military 0 ~
Sergeant Campbell moved quietly, Lieutenant Cadman close behind. The apparently unguarded flag was just up ahead.
click
"Sergeant, don't move!"
Too late; as the Sergeant's foot came up there was a resounding bang. Cadman scowled at Campbell as the two soldiers found themselves covered head-to-toe in bright pink paint.
~ Scientists 4, Military 0 ~
Sheppard keyed his radio, not for the first time.
"Cadman, Ronon, Lorne? Anyone? Report."
Nothing but static came back. He scowled, keying the radio off again.
He spun around at the crack of a stick behind him, weapon raised, and fired. Rodney froze, hand outstretched and almost touching the ‘Team Sheppard' flag, scowling as he looked down at the blue splodges of paint now marring his tac vest.
Then Miko, Katie and Radek dashed out into the open, firing in Sheppard's general direction.
Sheppard frowned, looking down to the random dots of pink paint now covering his uniform and back up to Rodney. "Best of three?"
~ Scientists win ~
04. Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe - General, no spoilers
"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe." Sheppard pointed at each of the three paths in front of him as he said the words, doubling back to the first one at the end.
"You've got to be kidding me," Rodney muttered, rolling his eyes.
"What?" Sheppard said, with a shrug.
"A children's rhyme? What are you, four? Next thing you know, we'll be greeting people with Ring around the Rosey."
"Ring around the rosey?" Teyla asked hesitantly, looking between the two.
"It's a children's game," Ford jumped in. "Kids skip in one direction in a circle, holding each others' hands, sing the rhyme and then fall down."
Teyla raised an eyebrow. "And this is a game? Children on your world enjoy this?"
"They're kids; strap them to an office chair with a motor to keep it spinning and you'll keep them entertained for hours," Rodney supplied.
Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "McKay."
"Oh, come on; it's not like I've actually done it."
"Anyway," Sheppard said, "Ring around the Rosey came about from one of the plagues on Earth that killed lots of people."
"Wrong," Rodney said disdainfully. "The plagues were in the 1300s, or at the latest, the 1600s. The first time the rhyme was printed was in the 1880s, and lots of different versions of it popped up in the couple of years after that. If it had been around for five hundred years, why hadn't it been recorded before that?"
"Okay, so it wasn't based on the plagues," Sheppard amended, not bothering to argue with Rodney.
"McKay, how do you know this stuff?" Ford asked.
"He had a very boring childhood," Sheppard jumped in.
"No, I didn't," Rodney defended himself. "It's just… Wikipedia can be very addictive."
"If it is not based on a plague, then what is it based on?" Teyla asked.
"Well," Rodney said as he began to head down the first path, "it may be from a ban on dancing-"
"They banned dancing on your world?"
"Only for a little while...but I think it happened more than once," Rodney continued. "Anyway, to get around it-"
"Rodney," Sheppard said, "where are you going?"
Rodney looked back at him. "Down the path you picked?"
"I didn't pick that path."
"Yes, you did. I did the silly rhyme, and this is the path you picked."
"No," Sheppard said slowly, "I picked the middle one."
"Well, you counted wrong."
"I think I can count, Rodney."
"Huh, didn't realise that was a requirement-"
"Did you use full words or syllables?" Sheppard interrupted.
"Syllables...and you used full words. Well, that explains it. So, the middle path then?" Rodney said resignedly.
"No, I think we'll stick with this path," Sheppard replied as he walked past Rodney.
"Hah! You chose my path!" Rodney said triumphantly.
"No," Sheppard pointed ahead, "Teyla chose your path."
"Fine," Rodney grumbled, trudging along after him.
"What about the rhyme you were using to pick the path, Dr. McKay?" Teyla asked, placatory.
"Has absolutely no meaning whatsoever."
"Oh."
"However..."
The others ignored him.
05. Running Backs and Shotguns - G, spoilers for The Return pt 1
Ronon hammered the last crossbeam into place and leaned his weight against it. Around him, the other builders were stopping too. He looked up at the last thin rays of the setting sun and calculated idly; noticeably earlier than the week before. Winter was coming. No one knew how hard.
The fires and torches began to light, and as always, the Athosian children spilled out into the center of the village. Some of them attacked each other with scaled-down versions of fighting sticks; Ronon could dimly make out Teyla's watchful face across the way. Some of them were throwing around a ball he thought he recognized. Others just ran full out, chasing each other or nothing, their shrieks of delight filling the air.
The oddly-shaped ball came flying toward Ronon, and he reached out to catch it before it flew to close to a torch. A whole pack of children raced up to him, led by Jinto. "I told you to be careful," he said, poking the kid who'd thrown the ball in the arm. "That's from Earth. If you break it we can't get a new one."
Ronon looked back down at the ball. "Sheppard's football?"
Jinto grabbed it from him. "My football. Colonel Sheppard gave it to me."
"I want to throw it again!" the other kid said.
"You can't just throw it. You have to line up and yell 'hut' first. Remember?"
They ran back out to the middle of the field, and Ronon watched Jinto carefully arrange the others to his liking, stopping to lecture a couple of them on proper positioning. If he looked away, it could be Sheppard out there, talking about running backs and shotguns.
"Ready? Ready? Hut!"
Ronon sat at the side of the field and leaned back on his hands. Teyla sank gracefully to the grass next to him. They sat companionably, occasionally calling out encouragement to one of the teams or speaking up to referee a disagreement between players.
"We should talk about Ladon's offer to meet with us," Teyla said quietly.
"I guess." Ronon raised his voice. "Good throw, Jinto!"
He could feel Teyla sigh next to him, but she turned her attention back to the game.
The children played until the smell of the evening meal lured them away, and Ronon and Teyla watched them.
06. Children for a Day - G
Elizabeth tried not to think too hard about why it had taken the rest of Atlantis almost two hours to realise that Sheppard and McKay had been affected - mentally regressed to childhood, in effect - by an Ancient device.
No one had looked twice at them trading whispers over a terminal in the corner of the control room, and they were long gone before every computer on the network flashed an error message referencing either cheese, melon or a Mr Jelly. Elizabeth's personal laptop offered up the opaque gem '+++Divide by Cucumber Error. Please Reinstall Universe And Reboot+++'.
The problem only became obvious when Lorne called for reinforcements to help him disarm the terrible twosome before they killed each other - or him. He'd found them in the armory, hurriedly stuffing their pockets with ammo, each weighted down by at least one of every weapon in Atlantis' arsenal.
They'd gleefully informed him that they were on their way to a Wraith hunt to get Rodney a mask 'a whole lot better than Jinto's!'
It took five marines to hold them down while Lorne and DeLargo checked every flap and pocket for ammo and hastily stashed weapons. They almost missed the knife in McKay's shoe but the limp gave him away as they were led to the infirmary.
There they spent the next few hours blasting - and almost certainly hacking - their way through every computer game the scientists and marines had had to offer. And then…
"I'm bored."
The nasal whine in John's voice set Elizabeth's teeth on edge, and nudged her into accepting Teyla's offer of respite. She was almost out the door when she heard a brief scuffle, followed by Rodney's incensed, "You poopyhead!"
The door swung shut behind her on his, "I was almost at the fortress! You-"
~~~~~~~
Teyla's soft, 'Doctor Weir?' came through while Elizabeth was in the lab with Radek and his team, translating the database entries that referenced the cubic silver 'paperweight' on Rodney's desk.
"Yes, Teyla?"
"Doctor Beckett has moved Colonel Sheppard and Doctor McKay into a side room and ordered the marines to not let anyone into the infirmary unless they are dying."
"Oh, dear G- What are they doing now?"
"They are playing a game they called 'Spin the Bottle'."
Elizabeth didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Just the two of them?"
"Yes, and I find myself confused as to the rules."
Elizabeth waited until she was out of earshot before replying.
"There are usually several players who take it in turn to spin the bottle, and whoever it points to has to kiss the one who spun it. But with only the two of them playing - are they…?"
"Oh, yes, most definitely. They are nominating body parts. Is that not…?"
"No. When you say 'body parts'…"
Faintly, Elizabeth heard Rodney yell, "Kiss my toe!"
"Perhaps food would be a welcome distraction?"
Elizabeth closed her eyes.
"Thank you, Teyla. If you can just keep them calm - and clothed - for one more hour…"
AN: The error messages are taken from Terry Pratchett's Discworld series computer Hex.
07. Marco Polo - G, No spoilers
A stream of colorful clothes, some trimmed in gold, others shimmering red and reflecting light threatened to drown Rodney in an undertow of sights, smells and sounds. Immediately to his right, a peddler waved a silk scarf under his nose, and to avoid getting clotheslined, Rodney twisted away. When he did, he found himself in the stall of a woman selling livestock and clucking chickens were thrust up against his nose. Rodney had to turn and duck yet again, only to find himself face to face with another woman trying to sell him the dried carcass of a Fifo bird.
A strong arm on his shoulder hauled him back to safety.
"I told you to stay close," Ronon grunted.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "You also told me this was a marketplace. How anyone can find anything here is beyond me."
"The Likal Market is the largest fairground that I know of. If we cannot find your material here, then I do not know where else to look," Teyla said, gesturing around.
The three of them continued to follow the throng of people. Rodney couldn't even think of slowing down to look at any of the wares being offered up for sale, the relentless flow of the crowd made it impossible. To make matters worse, twenty minutes ago, Sheppard had gone chasing after a small boy he'd caught trying to pick his pocket. The crowd had swallowed them up, and neither of them had been seen since. Standing up on his tip-toes, Rodney tried to look around.
"Marco!" The noise made everything incomprehensible. "Mar-co!"
It was only when he heard the name being called out, over and over again that Rodney finally made the connection and recognized the voice. Looking around, he smiled in relief when he saw a mop of dark hair coming towards them from a distance.
"Po-lo!" Rodney shouted back.
"Marco."
"Polo."
"Who is Marco?" Teyla asked, looking around in confusion.
"It's a game based on a famous earth explorer who didn't know where he was going when he set off for China," Rodney tried to explain quickly, waving his hand above his head to show their location until Sheppard finally managed to fight his way towards them.
"Slippery little kid almost made off with my night-vision goggles," Sheppard said holding them tight to his chest. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
Rodney shook his head. "This was a waste of time. Let's get out of here."
As they turned around to head back towards the gate, Ronon burst out laughing. "Cold, Sheppard?"
"No, why?" Sheppard asked.
Ronon pointed at the back of Sheppard's pants. The pockets where Sheppard had been holding their money had been cut and were hanging open, and his boxers were showing through some of the holes. "I don't think they were after your goggles. I'm not interested in this Marco-Polo game McKay was telling us about, but if you want to play I Spy again, I want to go first."
VOTING CLOSED; RESULTS POSTED SOON.