SGA FIC: Tanlines & Dogtags - Lorne/Sheppard - NC-17 (pt 3)
More about those naked pictures of John. The third and final part.
Continued from part one
Continued from part two
Well, they didn't have one emergency. They had three.
Two were simultaneous emergencies: on the asteroid of Pernath, which circled a gas giant -- and that was something to watch rise and set -- Lorne's team discovered a bunch of humans with a fairly advanced civilization who spoke Ancient. Not even a derivative -- the real thing. Almost cute how excited the social scientists got. Until they found a logical explanation. It turned out these people had a hologram program of the Ancients that they used to keep their technology and education up to date. Which in turn could only mean one thing. Yes, a ZPM. They just didn't know where. Sheppard's team was called in for McKay to check it out.
In the meantime, further exploration yielded yet another pleasant surprise: a weapons chair. With the corpse of an Ancient still in it. All of which turned out to be a damned good thing, because Sheppard's team at the gate let them know the Wraith were on their way, suddenly and bizarrely aware of these people who'd been left alone for generations.
So Lorne had jumped into the chair, which quite frankly he'd been itching to try since they'd found it, and triggered emergency number two: booby trap. Apparently the Wraith knew all about this place, from back when they were playing "hunter-seeker" for anyone with the gene. Lorne had set off the alarm bell the moment he set foot in the place, while using the chair triggered a paralyzing poison. Right through the hand, too, ouch. Not enough to kill you. Just enough to keep you there and unconscious to be fed on. Lorne managed to fire off a few rounds before it got to him, enough to dissuade the Wraith, while McKay saved the day.
Took about a week in the infirmary for the doc to figure out how to counteract the poison. When Lorne woke he was given to understand he had that Ancient's corpse to thank for the antidote. Sheppard named the corpse Al.
Meanwhile, Sheppard went on a routine trade mission (if there was such a thing) with Teyla, only to discover that world completely wiped out. Everyone was gone. And it wasn't because of the Wraith; no desiccated corpses, no scorched earth. It was like the legend of the Mary Celeste. Then Sheppard and Teyla were captured by some nice traders from that place who come home to find their loved ones vanished -- and assumed that Sheppard must know something about what happened. Ronon sprang them from that one.
So it had been an eventful ten days. Business as usual in the Pegasus galaxy.
Okay, even for Pegasus that might be considered a rough week.
~*~*~
Back in his quarters, Lorne experimented with walking without a cane. The poison was only slowly working its way out of his system.
He could make it from the bed to the laptop to the bathroom fairly easily, but the straight shot from the bed to the bathroom left him with nothing to hang onto. So he took a breather in front of the computer and remembered the photos. It didn't seem all that weird any more, not in comparison to a week of blinking once for "yes" and twice for "no."
The memory cards were none the worse for wear for a short swim. As he downloaded them, Lorne's jaw dropped. He tapped his radio immediately.
"Colonel Sheppard?"
"Kind of busy here-- hey, Lorne," he interrupted himself, his tone softening. "Good to hear your voice."
"Likewise, sir, and I mean that in every sense of the word. You remember our vacation?" Lorne asked.
John snickered. "How could I forget?"
"Well, the pictures are back from Kodak."
"No shit?"
"I think you should have a look at them at your earliest convenience."
"I'll be right there."
"I thought you were busy?" Lorne teased. "I mean, they'll keep, it's not that important really, I just thought you'd ought to--"
"Shut up, Major. Sheppard out." There was a moment's pause before Sheppard's voice came back on the com. "Wait. Where are you?"
"Thought you might need to know that. In my quarters. Be there or be square."
Lorne spun in his chair thinking, Vanity, thy name is Sheppard. He took the remaining time to sort out the best photos, though in his experience everyone had different tastes.
~*~*~
Sheppard hovered at the door as it slid open, eager and grinning, practically bouncing in his shoes.
"Sorry if I don't walk you over," Lorne said, waving him to the computer. He held up the cane. "I'll be doing the old man routine for at least another week or so."
"Yeah, I know. Once you're up to speed, I've asked Ronon to head your PT."
"Oh, gee. Thanks," Lorne said, with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
"Don't mention it," Sheppard said in a dry voice. Then added with a serious gaze, "We can't afford to have you down, Major. We've missed you out there."
Lorne flushed and dipped his head. "Nice to be needed, sir."
"So...."
"So...."
Lorne stood and offered John his seat with a chivalrous wave, sitting on the table next to him where he could watch John's face, drink in his reaction. Of course, he'd set it up so that some of the best shots opened first, and it closed with the best. He'd also ditched all the duds. He wasn't stupid.
John didn't say a word, just gave him a nervous half smile as he checked left than right, squirming a little as he sat down. With a wary glance up at Lorne, John clicked open the first photo. His face went blank, then softened, his pupils dark as he leaned a little closer to click on the next one. Then he clicked another with a subtle pleased smile. His lips parted and stayed that way, just a shade away from his jaw dropping.
Lorne couldn't resist the wash of smug pride, even as he folded his arms and waited on pins and needles, for John's judgment.
John paused at some, scanning them from top to bottom, leaned forward on his elbows, all over the machine. Others he just flipped through after a quick glance (even though those were some of the better ones in Lorne's opinion). When John got to the one with come on his chest and stomach, his skin golden and sweaty, he sat back with a disbelieving little laugh, shaking his head.
He glanced over at Lorne, blinked fast and swallowed, then kept paging through.
At the end of the slideshow, John drew a long breath. He slumped in the chair, chewing his thumbnail. It was not a nervous habit Lorne had seen before.
John licked his lips, then finally said, his voice thick with emotion, "If that's... these are. Wow." John began again, looking up at Lorne with an oddly vulnerable expression, his forehead creased. "If that's what you see when you look at me, how can you not--?"
--Want me? Lorne mentally filled in the rest of that sentence, wincing.
Oh shit. Lorne took a shuddering breath, his head dropping to his hand. This was a minefield like none other.
Normally, Lorne was a totally honest man. He believed in full disclosure. But this was a situation where a half truth was the only smart way to go. He broke the no touching rule and put both hands on John's shoulders to get through to him.
He said, emphatically, giving him a little shake, "John. You're my commanding officer." And let John read that any way he wanted.
"Right," John said, his expression uncomprehending at first. Then he slowly brightened as the implications seemed to dawn on him, that he hadn't been rejected, that there were other practical considerations. And that part was the truth. "Okay. Yeah." He breathed. "Sometimes it's easy to forget."
Easy for him to forget, Lorne snorted. But in reality, John's rank didn't matter one iota to Lorne. Although it should.
Of course he'd thought about John since the beach. A lot. An embarrassing amount, in fact. Though, hell, no one came within a hair of having sex with a man and didn't think about it later.
Behind the jumper, if John had made a move, hadn't kept asking, but just gone for it, Evan wasn't sure he would have said no. Or at least he didn't say no when he replayed the scene in his mind, with an entirely different outcome, over and over again-which really had to stop. Now.
So, okay, he'd try it with a guy. Maybe. But Sheppard wasn't the type who could do a one-time thing. Lorne had figured that one out. And that was a complication they didn't need.
John looked up at him with warm, happy eyes, and Lorne was content to be the one that got away.
With a lazy smile, John leaned back in the chair. Lorne mentally prepared himself for months, possibly years of coming flirtation. "Hm. You know. There seem to be a few pictures missing."
"Huh?" Then Lorne remembered, ducking his head sheepishly. "Uh." He cleared his throat. "Yes, I, unfortunately there were some that were lost to severe water damage...." He couldn't quite keep a straight face.
"Bullshit." John wiggled his fingers in a cupping gesture. "C'mon, cough it up. That was our deal."
Lorne raised his eyebrows, slanting him a cagey look. "I'll have you know that an agreement made under duress and threat of force is not binding under IOA regula-"
"Fork it over, Major. I didn't destroy your camera when I had ample opportunity. I kept my end of the deal." John pointed at him. "And you've got a lot more on me than I've got on you."
Scowling, Lorne gave in and opened the smaller slideshow. There were only about fifteen very incriminating photos.
"Wow. These really suck," John marveled.
"I told you."
John shrugged. "But it's like the grand canyon." He gestured, full of congeniality, as pleased as if Lorne had handed him a love letter. "With the right scenery, you really can't go wrong."
Lorne let John burn a copy of everything, the pictures of himself included. Then John double checked to make sure his discs worked. Unfortunately, they did.
As John pocketed them with a smirking pat, Lorne rolled his eyes and asked with an accusing glare, "Do I want to know what you intend to do with those pictures of me?"
"Probably not." John's smirk was wide and descriptive. "But I suspect you can use your imagination." On the way out, he paused in the door and added, with a mocking air of concession, "Okay. Let's put it this way: I plan to 'refresh my memory.'"
~*~*~
Epilogue
Weeks later, McKay's email read like this:
To ALL Atlantis personnel (this means YOU!) --
We are doing an upgrade of all Atlantis hardware and software. Yes, that means laptops, too. Yes, that means your laptop. You are going to part with your laptop for all time. Get out the hankies.
I'm not going to bother to explain the vital importance that all hardware in this remote facility far, far, far from your favorite Best Buy be compatible, nor remind you that any laptop in an emergency might be press-ganged into service to our fair city and thus systems compatibility is a security requirement, not a luxury or whim -- largely because you didn't listen to me the last time, and don't ever listen to me until your puny little short-sighted lives are on the line.
So this time -- by which I mean this week, by which I mean this Friday -- jackbooted Nazis in Marine uniforms will come and kick down your door if you don't cough it up. I have a list. I plan to use it.
Back up your porn collection, buddy, or kiss it goodbye. Time and McKay waits for no one.
Dr. Rodney McKay, Ph.D.
P.S. Those of you suffering from "separation anxiety" can go make an appointment with Heightmeyer. I don't want to hear about it.
Elizabeth's email read like this:
To all Atlantis personnel,
Thank you for your consideration in our coming upgrade. The Daedalus will be docking this Wednesday. I'm sure we're all looking forward to the capabilities of the new machines, which will have far more hard drive space than the U.S. government previously allotted.
Dr. Zelenka has DVD discs in a box outside his office for you to back up any personal information on your computers. Please, let's make sure this goes as smoothly and as quickly as possible. We don't want to be still in the midst of an upgrade if the Wraith suddenly choose to attack.
Elizabeth Weir
Her private email to Rodney read:
Rodney,
While we're all aware that personal computers could be potentially used for a variety of activities and we don't have time or personnel to police them, let me remind you that official IOA policy is against storing any illegal material, both copyright infringements and pornography, on machines that are technically public property.
Let me remind you, too, that all official email correspondence (such as this one and your announcement) are a matter of public record.
Also, the Marines didn't appreciate being called jackbooted Nazis. Tone it down a little, Rodney.
Elizabeth
Rodney's next email read:
To ALL Atlantis personnel --
Okay. Fine. Apparently we are to pretend that there's no porn in Atlantis except for the legally obtained and completely legal under Canadian law collection that currently resides on my hard drive. You are all sadly deprived.
Let me inform you that, regardless of the legality of the contents, kind, sensitive and caring Marines will shortly kick down your door and rip that laptop from your trembling hands if you don't give it up willingly.
Our policy is ZERO TOLERANCE, people.
Dr. Rodney McKay, Ph.D.
In her office, Elizabeth dropped her head to her hands and gave up. Rodney was a force of nature.
~*~*~
In preparation for the upgrade, Lorne copied everything he had and peered curiously out his open window. It was a good forty or fifty feet up, above metal planking. He glanced over his shoulder, out of habit, it wasn't like anyone was there, and then with a little smile, "dropped" it. Ten million emails from Mckay, and not one said how to wipe the hard drive. Typical scientists. He was taking no chances.
"Oops," he said quietly to himself. It bounced, impressing Lorne with the quality of Japanese workmanship. He decided he was going to need Ronon's help with this.
When Lorne dropped off the laptop later that afternoon, unfortunately he'd mistimed it and McKay was eating lunch at his desk. Shit.
McKay sputtered crumbs as he said in a voice that hit the upper registers, "What did you do to it?" His eyes went wide and aghast.
Ronon hadn't even asked any questions, just said, "Sure." A lot of pieces had come off. After he was done, Lorne had dunked the whole thing in salt water. Just to be sure.
McKay stared at the battered computer in appalled disbelief.
Lorne scratched the back of his head, and shook his head as he breathed in through his teeth. "Yeah. Sorry about that."
The dented remains were handed over to Zelenka, who peered over his glasses at Lorne. He eyed the computer with a suspicious intelligent glance as he turned it over between his hands. "This is very thorough."
"We should not give the Marines their own computers," Rodney declared with a disgusted gesture, as if Lorne wasn't still present. Lorne declined to inform him that he was Air Force, not a Marine, since it said so clearly on his uniform anyway. "An Etch-A-Sketch! Next time, he gets an Etch-A-Sketch! Based on what tech support tells me these apes wouldn't know the difference anyway."
"I'll see what I can do with it, Rodney," Zelenka soothed him as Lorne beat a quick retreat.
~*~*~
It was 2300 on Friday, but John wasn't worried that any "jackbooted Marines" -- Jesus, Rodney had no clue how idealistic Marines were -- planned to pound on the door of their commanding officer. Instead, he had to contend with Dr. Rodney McKay himself.
With McKay hammering on the door, "Come on, Colonel, I don't have all night," John took his time copying all his files. "Aren't you supposed to set an example for your men or something?"
John had a snack.
"I can over-ride the controls to your locks, you know," Rodney declared, his voice muffled.
John then carefully deleted all his files one by one, stopping to re-read funny emails that he'd forgotten about. He discovered an old Twilight Zone episode someone had sent him a link to, but it was removed from the system, probably due to the upgrade. Damn. That meant he had to ask for it again. Who sent him the email already? He looked it up.
"I need to go the bathroom," Rodney announced. There was a sound of his shoulder bumping tiredly against the door.
John made a face. "That's good to know, Rodney. Number one or number two? Just so we're clear."
Rodney ignored him. "I'll be back in less than twenty minutes, Colonel. "
"Hurry back," John said, just to annoy him. "I'm almost done here."
It was probably a good thing John couldn't hear exactly what Rodney grumbled as he left.
By the time Rodney returned, it had been nearly an hour (John had counted on Rodney's distractibility) and John had finally backed up and cleaned out his entire computer. He unlocked his door and handed the laptop to a very disgruntled and irritable looking Rodney, and couldn't resist needling him.
"There. Now that didn't take so long, did it?" John asked innocently, holding it out.
Rodney folded his arms. "Gee, am I wearing a brown uniform? Does it say UPS anywhere on my shirt? Hm, no, I guess not." He pointed down the hall to the transporter. "The computer drop off is in the science department. I'm going to bed, which just so happens to be in the opposite direction."
"Come on, Rodney," John complained. "You might as well take it with you." He smiled, knowing Rodney all too well. "You're not going to bed. You haven't done your own computer yet, now have you?"
"No thanks to you!" Rodney spluttered.
John held out the computer, cocking his head playfully, aiming for cute. "Well. Since you're going that way anyhow...."
Rodney leaned his shoulder against the doorway, mouth in a firm amused line, arms still folded stubbornly. "I can be bribed," he said.
Oh, this was going to be steep. But it was a matter of personal pride at this point.
~*~*~
At one a.m., or 0100 hours depending on which clock you were using, Dr. Zelenka ran the old computers through the de-com procedures. They had less than twenty-four hours before the Daedalus left, taking the hardware with them, and Rodney insisted that he didn't trust the SGC to decommission them properly. He was probably correct.
He thought he was done when Rodney came in with four more laptops and deposited them on Zelenka's desk. "Have fun," he said, pointing at the door cheerfully. "Now. I'm going to bed."
Zelenka muttered to himself in Czech.
Two of the laptops were wiped according to procedures he had carefully emailed everyone (that almost no one had followed), so they were most likely Rodney's own computers. The third... Zelenka shook his head. "People do not know how to erase," he complained. This was going to take time. While he didn't mind Rodney doing much of the work, once he had taken over this project everyone had stopped listening.
This hard drive wasn't even reformatted. The owner had simply deleted the files as if that did anything at all.
"Hmm. This uses up a lot of memory. What are these, videos?" Zelenka mumbled to himself. He had added quite a few to his personal collection today. He opened the first of them, which turned out to be a large sized graphic file.
Zelenka's hand went to his mouth as his eyes widened. It was the colonel and he was....
Oh.
Oh, my.
Continued from part one
Continued from part two
Well, they didn't have one emergency. They had three.
Two were simultaneous emergencies: on the asteroid of Pernath, which circled a gas giant -- and that was something to watch rise and set -- Lorne's team discovered a bunch of humans with a fairly advanced civilization who spoke Ancient. Not even a derivative -- the real thing. Almost cute how excited the social scientists got. Until they found a logical explanation. It turned out these people had a hologram program of the Ancients that they used to keep their technology and education up to date. Which in turn could only mean one thing. Yes, a ZPM. They just didn't know where. Sheppard's team was called in for McKay to check it out.
In the meantime, further exploration yielded yet another pleasant surprise: a weapons chair. With the corpse of an Ancient still in it. All of which turned out to be a damned good thing, because Sheppard's team at the gate let them know the Wraith were on their way, suddenly and bizarrely aware of these people who'd been left alone for generations.
So Lorne had jumped into the chair, which quite frankly he'd been itching to try since they'd found it, and triggered emergency number two: booby trap. Apparently the Wraith knew all about this place, from back when they were playing "hunter-seeker" for anyone with the gene. Lorne had set off the alarm bell the moment he set foot in the place, while using the chair triggered a paralyzing poison. Right through the hand, too, ouch. Not enough to kill you. Just enough to keep you there and unconscious to be fed on. Lorne managed to fire off a few rounds before it got to him, enough to dissuade the Wraith, while McKay saved the day.
Took about a week in the infirmary for the doc to figure out how to counteract the poison. When Lorne woke he was given to understand he had that Ancient's corpse to thank for the antidote. Sheppard named the corpse Al.
Meanwhile, Sheppard went on a routine trade mission (if there was such a thing) with Teyla, only to discover that world completely wiped out. Everyone was gone. And it wasn't because of the Wraith; no desiccated corpses, no scorched earth. It was like the legend of the Mary Celeste. Then Sheppard and Teyla were captured by some nice traders from that place who come home to find their loved ones vanished -- and assumed that Sheppard must know something about what happened. Ronon sprang them from that one.
So it had been an eventful ten days. Business as usual in the Pegasus galaxy.
Okay, even for Pegasus that might be considered a rough week.
~*~*~
Back in his quarters, Lorne experimented with walking without a cane. The poison was only slowly working its way out of his system.
He could make it from the bed to the laptop to the bathroom fairly easily, but the straight shot from the bed to the bathroom left him with nothing to hang onto. So he took a breather in front of the computer and remembered the photos. It didn't seem all that weird any more, not in comparison to a week of blinking once for "yes" and twice for "no."
The memory cards were none the worse for wear for a short swim. As he downloaded them, Lorne's jaw dropped. He tapped his radio immediately.
"Colonel Sheppard?"
"Kind of busy here-- hey, Lorne," he interrupted himself, his tone softening. "Good to hear your voice."
"Likewise, sir, and I mean that in every sense of the word. You remember our vacation?" Lorne asked.
John snickered. "How could I forget?"
"Well, the pictures are back from Kodak."
"No shit?"
"I think you should have a look at them at your earliest convenience."
"I'll be right there."
"I thought you were busy?" Lorne teased. "I mean, they'll keep, it's not that important really, I just thought you'd ought to--"
"Shut up, Major. Sheppard out." There was a moment's pause before Sheppard's voice came back on the com. "Wait. Where are you?"
"Thought you might need to know that. In my quarters. Be there or be square."
Lorne spun in his chair thinking, Vanity, thy name is Sheppard. He took the remaining time to sort out the best photos, though in his experience everyone had different tastes.
~*~*~
Sheppard hovered at the door as it slid open, eager and grinning, practically bouncing in his shoes.
"Sorry if I don't walk you over," Lorne said, waving him to the computer. He held up the cane. "I'll be doing the old man routine for at least another week or so."
"Yeah, I know. Once you're up to speed, I've asked Ronon to head your PT."
"Oh, gee. Thanks," Lorne said, with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
"Don't mention it," Sheppard said in a dry voice. Then added with a serious gaze, "We can't afford to have you down, Major. We've missed you out there."
Lorne flushed and dipped his head. "Nice to be needed, sir."
"So...."
"So...."
Lorne stood and offered John his seat with a chivalrous wave, sitting on the table next to him where he could watch John's face, drink in his reaction. Of course, he'd set it up so that some of the best shots opened first, and it closed with the best. He'd also ditched all the duds. He wasn't stupid.
John didn't say a word, just gave him a nervous half smile as he checked left than right, squirming a little as he sat down. With a wary glance up at Lorne, John clicked open the first photo. His face went blank, then softened, his pupils dark as he leaned a little closer to click on the next one. Then he clicked another with a subtle pleased smile. His lips parted and stayed that way, just a shade away from his jaw dropping.
Lorne couldn't resist the wash of smug pride, even as he folded his arms and waited on pins and needles, for John's judgment.
John paused at some, scanning them from top to bottom, leaned forward on his elbows, all over the machine. Others he just flipped through after a quick glance (even though those were some of the better ones in Lorne's opinion). When John got to the one with come on his chest and stomach, his skin golden and sweaty, he sat back with a disbelieving little laugh, shaking his head.
He glanced over at Lorne, blinked fast and swallowed, then kept paging through.
At the end of the slideshow, John drew a long breath. He slumped in the chair, chewing his thumbnail. It was not a nervous habit Lorne had seen before.
John licked his lips, then finally said, his voice thick with emotion, "If that's... these are. Wow." John began again, looking up at Lorne with an oddly vulnerable expression, his forehead creased. "If that's what you see when you look at me, how can you not--?"
--Want me? Lorne mentally filled in the rest of that sentence, wincing.
Oh shit. Lorne took a shuddering breath, his head dropping to his hand. This was a minefield like none other.
Normally, Lorne was a totally honest man. He believed in full disclosure. But this was a situation where a half truth was the only smart way to go. He broke the no touching rule and put both hands on John's shoulders to get through to him.
He said, emphatically, giving him a little shake, "John. You're my commanding officer." And let John read that any way he wanted.
"Right," John said, his expression uncomprehending at first. Then he slowly brightened as the implications seemed to dawn on him, that he hadn't been rejected, that there were other practical considerations. And that part was the truth. "Okay. Yeah." He breathed. "Sometimes it's easy to forget."
Easy for him to forget, Lorne snorted. But in reality, John's rank didn't matter one iota to Lorne. Although it should.
Of course he'd thought about John since the beach. A lot. An embarrassing amount, in fact. Though, hell, no one came within a hair of having sex with a man and didn't think about it later.
Behind the jumper, if John had made a move, hadn't kept asking, but just gone for it, Evan wasn't sure he would have said no. Or at least he didn't say no when he replayed the scene in his mind, with an entirely different outcome, over and over again-which really had to stop. Now.
So, okay, he'd try it with a guy. Maybe. But Sheppard wasn't the type who could do a one-time thing. Lorne had figured that one out. And that was a complication they didn't need.
John looked up at him with warm, happy eyes, and Lorne was content to be the one that got away.
With a lazy smile, John leaned back in the chair. Lorne mentally prepared himself for months, possibly years of coming flirtation. "Hm. You know. There seem to be a few pictures missing."
"Huh?" Then Lorne remembered, ducking his head sheepishly. "Uh." He cleared his throat. "Yes, I, unfortunately there were some that were lost to severe water damage...." He couldn't quite keep a straight face.
"Bullshit." John wiggled his fingers in a cupping gesture. "C'mon, cough it up. That was our deal."
Lorne raised his eyebrows, slanting him a cagey look. "I'll have you know that an agreement made under duress and threat of force is not binding under IOA regula-"
"Fork it over, Major. I didn't destroy your camera when I had ample opportunity. I kept my end of the deal." John pointed at him. "And you've got a lot more on me than I've got on you."
Scowling, Lorne gave in and opened the smaller slideshow. There were only about fifteen very incriminating photos.
"Wow. These really suck," John marveled.
"I told you."
John shrugged. "But it's like the grand canyon." He gestured, full of congeniality, as pleased as if Lorne had handed him a love letter. "With the right scenery, you really can't go wrong."
Lorne let John burn a copy of everything, the pictures of himself included. Then John double checked to make sure his discs worked. Unfortunately, they did.
As John pocketed them with a smirking pat, Lorne rolled his eyes and asked with an accusing glare, "Do I want to know what you intend to do with those pictures of me?"
"Probably not." John's smirk was wide and descriptive. "But I suspect you can use your imagination." On the way out, he paused in the door and added, with a mocking air of concession, "Okay. Let's put it this way: I plan to 'refresh my memory.'"
~*~*~
Epilogue
Weeks later, McKay's email read like this:
To ALL Atlantis personnel (this means YOU!) --
We are doing an upgrade of all Atlantis hardware and software. Yes, that means laptops, too. Yes, that means your laptop. You are going to part with your laptop for all time. Get out the hankies.
I'm not going to bother to explain the vital importance that all hardware in this remote facility far, far, far from your favorite Best Buy be compatible, nor remind you that any laptop in an emergency might be press-ganged into service to our fair city and thus systems compatibility is a security requirement, not a luxury or whim -- largely because you didn't listen to me the last time, and don't ever listen to me until your puny little short-sighted lives are on the line.
So this time -- by which I mean this week, by which I mean this Friday -- jackbooted Nazis in Marine uniforms will come and kick down your door if you don't cough it up. I have a list. I plan to use it.
Back up your porn collection, buddy, or kiss it goodbye. Time and McKay waits for no one.
Dr. Rodney McKay, Ph.D.
P.S. Those of you suffering from "separation anxiety" can go make an appointment with Heightmeyer. I don't want to hear about it.
Elizabeth's email read like this:
To all Atlantis personnel,
Thank you for your consideration in our coming upgrade. The Daedalus will be docking this Wednesday. I'm sure we're all looking forward to the capabilities of the new machines, which will have far more hard drive space than the U.S. government previously allotted.
Dr. Zelenka has DVD discs in a box outside his office for you to back up any personal information on your computers. Please, let's make sure this goes as smoothly and as quickly as possible. We don't want to be still in the midst of an upgrade if the Wraith suddenly choose to attack.
Elizabeth Weir
Her private email to Rodney read:
Rodney,
While we're all aware that personal computers could be potentially used for a variety of activities and we don't have time or personnel to police them, let me remind you that official IOA policy is against storing any illegal material, both copyright infringements and pornography, on machines that are technically public property.
Let me remind you, too, that all official email correspondence (such as this one and your announcement) are a matter of public record.
Also, the Marines didn't appreciate being called jackbooted Nazis. Tone it down a little, Rodney.
Elizabeth
Rodney's next email read:
To ALL Atlantis personnel --
Okay. Fine. Apparently we are to pretend that there's no porn in Atlantis except for the legally obtained and completely legal under Canadian law collection that currently resides on my hard drive. You are all sadly deprived.
Let me inform you that, regardless of the legality of the contents, kind, sensitive and caring Marines will shortly kick down your door and rip that laptop from your trembling hands if you don't give it up willingly.
Our policy is ZERO TOLERANCE, people.
Dr. Rodney McKay, Ph.D.
In her office, Elizabeth dropped her head to her hands and gave up. Rodney was a force of nature.
~*~*~
In preparation for the upgrade, Lorne copied everything he had and peered curiously out his open window. It was a good forty or fifty feet up, above metal planking. He glanced over his shoulder, out of habit, it wasn't like anyone was there, and then with a little smile, "dropped" it. Ten million emails from Mckay, and not one said how to wipe the hard drive. Typical scientists. He was taking no chances.
"Oops," he said quietly to himself. It bounced, impressing Lorne with the quality of Japanese workmanship. He decided he was going to need Ronon's help with this.
When Lorne dropped off the laptop later that afternoon, unfortunately he'd mistimed it and McKay was eating lunch at his desk. Shit.
McKay sputtered crumbs as he said in a voice that hit the upper registers, "What did you do to it?" His eyes went wide and aghast.
Ronon hadn't even asked any questions, just said, "Sure." A lot of pieces had come off. After he was done, Lorne had dunked the whole thing in salt water. Just to be sure.
McKay stared at the battered computer in appalled disbelief.
Lorne scratched the back of his head, and shook his head as he breathed in through his teeth. "Yeah. Sorry about that."
The dented remains were handed over to Zelenka, who peered over his glasses at Lorne. He eyed the computer with a suspicious intelligent glance as he turned it over between his hands. "This is very thorough."
"We should not give the Marines their own computers," Rodney declared with a disgusted gesture, as if Lorne wasn't still present. Lorne declined to inform him that he was Air Force, not a Marine, since it said so clearly on his uniform anyway. "An Etch-A-Sketch! Next time, he gets an Etch-A-Sketch! Based on what tech support tells me these apes wouldn't know the difference anyway."
"I'll see what I can do with it, Rodney," Zelenka soothed him as Lorne beat a quick retreat.
~*~*~
It was 2300 on Friday, but John wasn't worried that any "jackbooted Marines" -- Jesus, Rodney had no clue how idealistic Marines were -- planned to pound on the door of their commanding officer. Instead, he had to contend with Dr. Rodney McKay himself.
With McKay hammering on the door, "Come on, Colonel, I don't have all night," John took his time copying all his files. "Aren't you supposed to set an example for your men or something?"
John had a snack.
"I can over-ride the controls to your locks, you know," Rodney declared, his voice muffled.
John then carefully deleted all his files one by one, stopping to re-read funny emails that he'd forgotten about. He discovered an old Twilight Zone episode someone had sent him a link to, but it was removed from the system, probably due to the upgrade. Damn. That meant he had to ask for it again. Who sent him the email already? He looked it up.
"I need to go the bathroom," Rodney announced. There was a sound of his shoulder bumping tiredly against the door.
John made a face. "That's good to know, Rodney. Number one or number two? Just so we're clear."
Rodney ignored him. "I'll be back in less than twenty minutes, Colonel. "
"Hurry back," John said, just to annoy him. "I'm almost done here."
It was probably a good thing John couldn't hear exactly what Rodney grumbled as he left.
By the time Rodney returned, it had been nearly an hour (John had counted on Rodney's distractibility) and John had finally backed up and cleaned out his entire computer. He unlocked his door and handed the laptop to a very disgruntled and irritable looking Rodney, and couldn't resist needling him.
"There. Now that didn't take so long, did it?" John asked innocently, holding it out.
Rodney folded his arms. "Gee, am I wearing a brown uniform? Does it say UPS anywhere on my shirt? Hm, no, I guess not." He pointed down the hall to the transporter. "The computer drop off is in the science department. I'm going to bed, which just so happens to be in the opposite direction."
"Come on, Rodney," John complained. "You might as well take it with you." He smiled, knowing Rodney all too well. "You're not going to bed. You haven't done your own computer yet, now have you?"
"No thanks to you!" Rodney spluttered.
John held out the computer, cocking his head playfully, aiming for cute. "Well. Since you're going that way anyhow...."
Rodney leaned his shoulder against the doorway, mouth in a firm amused line, arms still folded stubbornly. "I can be bribed," he said.
Oh, this was going to be steep. But it was a matter of personal pride at this point.
~*~*~
At one a.m., or 0100 hours depending on which clock you were using, Dr. Zelenka ran the old computers through the de-com procedures. They had less than twenty-four hours before the Daedalus left, taking the hardware with them, and Rodney insisted that he didn't trust the SGC to decommission them properly. He was probably correct.
He thought he was done when Rodney came in with four more laptops and deposited them on Zelenka's desk. "Have fun," he said, pointing at the door cheerfully. "Now. I'm going to bed."
Zelenka muttered to himself in Czech.
Two of the laptops were wiped according to procedures he had carefully emailed everyone (that almost no one had followed), so they were most likely Rodney's own computers. The third... Zelenka shook his head. "People do not know how to erase," he complained. This was going to take time. While he didn't mind Rodney doing much of the work, once he had taken over this project everyone had stopped listening.
This hard drive wasn't even reformatted. The owner had simply deleted the files as if that did anything at all.
"Hmm. This uses up a lot of memory. What are these, videos?" Zelenka mumbled to himself. He had added quite a few to his personal collection today. He opened the first of them, which turned out to be a large sized graphic file.
Zelenka's hand went to his mouth as his eyes widened. It was the colonel and he was....
Oh.
Oh, my.