That Which Is Always Present (2/4)
Just to prevent any disappointment down the line... this isn't the action-y AU. That's the other one. This is just kind of talky and small.
Part One: Elizabeth
"Eriksson, get some chow sent up for our guests and Doctor Weir, please? Make sure there's at least one Diet Coke and an extra helping of mud pud," John told the waiting lieutenant.
"Aye aye, sir."
Sumner followed him to the balcony behind the control room, through the open door and over to the edge. "You're familiar with Lieutenant Ford's eating habits, I see," he said, leaning against the railing and looking out.
"Yeah," John replied. Ford had loved yam mash, had eaten it enthusiastically on every planet it had been offered and then getting double helpings in the commissary when it appeared there. Kid wouldn't touch anything green, but give him something related however distantly to a potato and he'd treat it like it were Christmas.
"How long has he been dead here?" Sumner asked, turning back to face him.
John didn't answer because he wasn't sure how to answer. Or if he should. He'd caught part of Rodney's babbling about alternate realities, knew what a quantum mirror was and that weirder shit had happened to SG-1 because weirder shit had always happened to SG-1. And yet. They'd had two years in this galaxy and the number of times they'd been compromised was really kind of embarrasssing. What if this Sumner was like the evil Terminator in T2, able to take on the appearance of whatever it wanted? What if he was like the Wraith officer on board the Aurora? What if they were there to mine information on the city or on the Ancients or on Earth? The Asgard weren't the only super-advanced race out there; there could be plenty that weren't nearly as benevolent.
"Colonel?" Sumner prompted.
"We don't know that he is," John finally replied, not looking at Sumner. "He probably is, but we won't know until we see a body."
"Wraith?"
"Close enough," John said, finally meeting Sumner's eyes. "But you didn't want to talk to me about the fate of Aiden Ford."
Sumner gave him that little head tilt that he remembered still, the one that conceded defeat without either concession or defeat.
"No," he agreed, looking out over the ocean. "We started off badly, which was my fault, and I wanted to clear the air between us. If McKay can get us back to where we belong, then I would hope that we can bring intel with us and share what we know with you. If he can't... I don't want to make things worse."
Remembering the oddly amenable General Hammond on the mist planet, John gave him a cock-eyed look. But instead of Hammond's earnest amenability, Sumner chuckled darkly.
"I'm a stubborn cuss of a marine, Sheppard," he said. "But I'm not an idiot. If we're going to be here for a while, I'd rather not turn this into a pissing match."
"I don't think you're an idiot, sir," John said, looking away again. When he tended to recall Sumner, it was the tortured man on his knees, not the sarcastic one who'd played alpha dog and yet let him lead the negotiations with the Athosians. "But in two years here, I've had at least three races mucking around in my brain and all three would have been perfectly okay with me and mine dying. You'll excuse my caution just in case you turn out to be the fourth."
Sumner nodded, accepting the response. "In a way, it's good to hear," he said, pushing off of the railing and walking slowly along the balcony. "If we don't get back there, you'll end up in charge of the military. I've never put you in a position of authority. You've never wanted one and I figured that it was for a reason."
Intellectually, John knew that that's the way it was supposed to have gone here, but there hadn't been time to really ponder that particular What If. On the big list of events he wished could have come out differently, there were many others that ranked higher, even here in Pegasus -- worlds he could have saved from the Wraith and friends he could have saved from themselves. He wasn't big on self-reflection and didn't have a good mental picture of where he'd been two years ago, so that he wasn't that person anymore almost didn't matter. He didn't regret who he was now. "I kind of didn't have a choice."
"Necessity is a mother," Sumner agreed. "And speaking of, I'm sorry we reacted to your Ronon Dex. Guy was rabid like a dog when he attacked us; took most of a clip to put him down. Guttierez and Stackhouse were torn to shreds. Eversby's never gonna regain full use of his arm, even if we got him back to Earth."
Eversby had died in the siege, sucked dry by a Wraith and identifiable only by his tags. Guttierez, broken bones and a head wound, had gone back to Earth in the same wormhole that had returned Colonel Everett. Stackhouse was probably asleep in the barracks because his platoon had third shift.
"He was a Runner," John finally said, figuring the knowledge would cost him nothing. If the news would keep any potential invaders away, then it was good to share it. "The Wraith turn the people they can't feed on into training toys. Doesn't do much for their mental health."
"No shit," Sumner muttered, disgusted. He looked up at the sky and they stood quietly for a long moment before he spoke again. "Doctor Weir said that you've had the Wraith attack."
"More than once," John replied carefully.
"You get the automated SAM system working yet?"
John turned to where Sumner had paused by one of the buttresses. Did he mean the drone weapons? Did he want to know if they could defend themselves? "The what?"
Sumner smiled wryly. "Figured that might be a difference between here and my Atlantis," he said a little smugly. "We only found it by accident. Two floors down from the medical suite, fifth panel off of the second door on the right. Busted crystals or wiring or whatever the hell it was. Fix it and it'll bring up a screen on the holographic display in the control room. They're not drone weapons; we don't have the juice to fire those. They're smaller, but we've got a ton of them and we can run the batteries off of naquadah generators. You might be able to rig them to the control chair. We can't run that, either, so it's all theoretical for us."
John understood what this was -- an attempt to prove good faith. Whether it was actually good faith or not was a different matter. He still wasn't convinced that telling him anything was a good idea, but he had to make a choice whether to believe or not to believe before the doubt made him crazy. Elizabeth had chosen to accept the situation as presented and she had far more experience with this sort of thing than he did. He tapped his radio. "Rodney?"
"What?" The annoyed reply came back a long minute later. "I'm busy fighting with your overzealous minions."
"My overzealous minions are only doing their job," John replied patiently. He repeated Sumner's directions to Rodney, who bristled. He didn't pass on to Rodney what Sumner had said would be the effect. If it was on the level, then Rodney would be happily surprised. If it was something nefarious, then best they be looking for everything.
"Is this one of your 'hunches'? One of those vague wild-goose chases you send us on because you think you hear Atlantis when all that you really hear is your own sanity slipping away?"
"McKay," John warned. "Play nicely or you're not getting out there until tomorrow and it'll be Lieutenant Appleman who takes you."
As predicted, that shut Rodney right up.
"Must've been some accident if you remember it that well," John said to Sumner after he'd finished with Rodney. "I don't think even the OCD types in Engineering remember wonky panels off of the tops of their heads."
"It took up all of our attention for a week," Sumner said sourly. "The scientists started three fires and shorted out the control room for the better part of a day. It was memorable."
"We've had a few of those," John admitted. "Flooded rooms, sentient energy clouds, exploding microwaves...."
"Not sure I want to know about the sentient energy cloud," Sumner replied. "The rest I know too well."
"You should find out about the energy thing. Damn near killed us all," John said as he joined Sumner at the railing again. "Kinda got lucky that we stopped it before it did."
Sumner nodded, eyes on the horizon. "If we're here for any length, I'll match you mishap for mishap."
"Not that I'm not eager to hear about how trying to keep this place in one piece is apparently against the laws of time-space theory or whatever the hell got you here," John said. "But I think you'd rather be home."
It wasn't just that Ford, Markham, and Sumner were dead. It was also that he had to fight the urge to perform, to show them that Atlantis was doing well in their absences, that their sacrifices had been worth it. But there was no purpose to that, not really. Sumner could be floored by the Marine Corps efficiency of Little Tripoli, Ford could envy the lieutenants with their own missions and actual time off, and Markham could finally be content that enlisted men were no longer doing officers' jobs and it wouldn't make a difference. The men he wanted to thank -- to apologize to -- were lost forever.
"Ford's gone," Sumner began quietly. "Markham?"
"I had to train Markham to fly a jumper so that we'd have a second combat-capable pilot," John said, remembering the sergeant's dislike of the idea. He'd only finally agreed after realizing that Carson Beckett was the other choice. "He died in a jumper, chasing a Wraith dart over the city. Took Smith with him."
Sumner nodded somberly, accepting it for what it was -- a casualty of war. "Figured something like it. I'm dead, too, I gather?" He looked over at John. "There's a chance I just went back to Earth, but I'm thinking that wasn't it."
John sighed. "No, that's not it."
"In the siege?" Sumner asked, almost converationally, as if they were comparing notes on target practice. "Weir said you lost a lot of people then."
"We did," John agreed. "Forty dead, that many more wounded.... Do you really want to know, sir?"
Sumner shrugged, not looking at him. "Not if it was that dishonorable, but maybe even then if it's something we can use to save my Atlantis. 'If you can't be a good example, be an object lesson' and all that crap."
"It wasn't dishonorable," John replied quickly, then paused. "Only a couple of people here know. I guess it's just down to me and Elizabeth."
And then he told Sumner what had happened and what he'd done.
In his nightmares, the phantom Marshall Sumner had always called him a murderer, accused him of fragging, of cowardice, of taking the easy way out by cutting his losses instead of fighting to save him. But this Sumner just sort of chuckled mirthlessly and sucked loudly on his teeth.
"Not the ending I would have picked," he said. "Still, I've seen people drained dry by the Wraith, so I can't say I would've chosen differently. Can't offer you absolution, either, but I don't think you're looking for it."
There was nothing John was prepared to say to that, so he didn't.
"I guess that explains the difference between our Pegasus and yours," Sumner went on and John felt the familiar pang of guilt. "Our Wraith are still mostly sleeping, I suppose. Wonder how many more hives we can find before they wake up."
"If we knew where any of them were, I'd tell you," John said, meaning it. "We usually don't find them until they're on our doorstep."
"That's usually the way of it." Sumner agreed. "They haven't come to us yet, but it's only a matter of time. They've culled too many worlds where the people know who -- and where -- we are. Most of 'em are probably lunch, but all they have to do is interrogate one."
Sumner gave him an ironic smile, one that clearly said 'like they did here with me.'
"They'll probably show up regardless because they're Wraith and they're like that," John offered, "But they were so eager to get here because they know about Earth and know that it's a place they want to be. Without that, Atlantis itself is just another place to destroy and there's no real hurry to do that as long as you don't go out of your way to piss them off."
Despite the millenia of history, the Wraith didn't consider Atlantis a threat, more of a nuisance. One that hopefully they'd think they were relieved of for a while.
"I'd rather be ready when they do come," Sumner said. "We can fire the missiles, but they'll be useless against anything bigger than a dart."
John made a maybe-kinda-depends face; he'd seen how RPGs could take down million-dollar helicopters if struck in the right spot. The cave-dwellers in Afghanistan had figured it out, as had the khat-addled militias of Somalia. It wasn't as simple as that with the Wraith, but if one nuke could take out a hive ship, there was always hope.
"How did you find your ZPM?" Sumner asked.
"Got it from Earth, actually," John replied, not quite ready to give up Keras's world or even the loons over in the Brotherhood of Fifteen. But he'd consider the latter before Sumner's team left. Melina and her gothic novel crew wouldn't miss it. "You're just going to have to put your faith in General O'Neill."
Sumner snorted. "And that's how I got my ass parked in another galaxy with no way home."
"There's that," John agreed.
"Was kind of hoping the Genii had one," Sumner said after the door to the control room opened and then closed. John realized that they were taking away the designated smoking area for the control room personnel. "They're fleecing us on those damned tava beans. I'm guessing you're not trading for those anymore."
"We never actually got to try them," John admitted.
"Supposed to be like soy beans," Sumner told him, making a sour face. "The Athosians showed us how to process them. They said that you can make them taste like anything, but we've got marines on KP and they know fuck-all about what to do with tofu."
John laughed despite himself and Sumner joined in. For a moment, they were almost colleagues, despite the weirdness.
"The Genii really have an underground nuclear facility?" Sumner finally asked.
"Ours do," John replied, shrugging. If Sumner really was going to be here a while, he'd hear all about the Genii-Atlantis conflicts. "Your world may be different. Next time you're there, take a look in their barns for secret hatches half-hidden by hay. And then see if Sora shows up with a tommy gun."
"Sora?" Sumner repeated, both eyebrows up. He gestured with both hands to indicate Sora's most noticeable attributes. "That Sora?"
"That Sora," John confirmed. "She's the lieutenant of their commando team. We had her in the brig for six months. Tyrus was some mucky-muck for them and Cowen's their leader. He's a little cracked."
"I noticed," Sumner said.
"McKay thinks they're all going to die of radiation poisoning," John added.
"McKay's been there?" Sheer surprise from Sumner.
"He's the first guy I picked for my off-world team," John replied, enjoying Sumner's shock. "Yours doesn't get off-world much?"
Sumner snorted. "Our resident delicate flower prefers climate-controlled environments."
"Not popular?" John asked dryly. It pleased him perversely to realize that he might have had an improving effect on Rodney. He'd never really considered it any more than he'd considered what effect Rodney might have had on him.
"First guy the city'd throw to the Wraith," Sumner said, sounding very much like he'd be the one offering to lead him out there.
"This one's not so bad once you get to know him," John said, mostly to let Sumner know that he'd have to tread differently with this Rodney. "He's mostly all bark now. Still peels the paint every once in a while, but I think it's mostly to keep in practice. But don't tell him that I think he's been defanged."
Sumner laughed, this time less harshly. "Considering that you're the one McKay spends most of his time tormenting...."
John almost asked what his role was in Sumner's Atlantis, but decided against it. He didn't want to know.
"We should go back inside," he said instead. "Get you some chow, see whether Lorne or McKay have emerged victorious from their grudge match."
He didn't offer to take Sumner to Little Tripoli to see the marines at work and at play. It would be too disconcerting for those who had been part of the original expedition -- Laganzo was looking a little flustered still -- and they'd have to pass by The Wall, where Sumner could see his own photo and Markham's among the KIA and John would have to explain why Ford wasn't listed among either the dead or the missing.
When they came back into the control room, Lorne and McKay were by the corridor that led to the conference room, pretty much where he'd left them. Rodney was looking annoyed and Lorne had the long-suffering patient look he got when the only thing keeping him from drawing his personal weapon was the knowledge that he was winning the argument. Which meant that Rodney should quit while he was behind or he really was going to get stuck with Appleman.
"Well, I guess it's my fate in this reality to get interrogated by scary women," Sumner sighed as they headed back toward the small conference room.
"I'm sure Elizabeth--"
"That's called gallows humor, Sheppard," Sumner told him, then waved his hand at the crystals to get the door to rotate open.
Part Three: Rodney
Part One: Elizabeth
"Eriksson, get some chow sent up for our guests and Doctor Weir, please? Make sure there's at least one Diet Coke and an extra helping of mud pud," John told the waiting lieutenant.
"Aye aye, sir."
Sumner followed him to the balcony behind the control room, through the open door and over to the edge. "You're familiar with Lieutenant Ford's eating habits, I see," he said, leaning against the railing and looking out.
"Yeah," John replied. Ford had loved yam mash, had eaten it enthusiastically on every planet it had been offered and then getting double helpings in the commissary when it appeared there. Kid wouldn't touch anything green, but give him something related however distantly to a potato and he'd treat it like it were Christmas.
"How long has he been dead here?" Sumner asked, turning back to face him.
John didn't answer because he wasn't sure how to answer. Or if he should. He'd caught part of Rodney's babbling about alternate realities, knew what a quantum mirror was and that weirder shit had happened to SG-1 because weirder shit had always happened to SG-1. And yet. They'd had two years in this galaxy and the number of times they'd been compromised was really kind of embarrasssing. What if this Sumner was like the evil Terminator in T2, able to take on the appearance of whatever it wanted? What if he was like the Wraith officer on board the Aurora? What if they were there to mine information on the city or on the Ancients or on Earth? The Asgard weren't the only super-advanced race out there; there could be plenty that weren't nearly as benevolent.
"Colonel?" Sumner prompted.
"We don't know that he is," John finally replied, not looking at Sumner. "He probably is, but we won't know until we see a body."
"Wraith?"
"Close enough," John said, finally meeting Sumner's eyes. "But you didn't want to talk to me about the fate of Aiden Ford."
Sumner gave him that little head tilt that he remembered still, the one that conceded defeat without either concession or defeat.
"No," he agreed, looking out over the ocean. "We started off badly, which was my fault, and I wanted to clear the air between us. If McKay can get us back to where we belong, then I would hope that we can bring intel with us and share what we know with you. If he can't... I don't want to make things worse."
Remembering the oddly amenable General Hammond on the mist planet, John gave him a cock-eyed look. But instead of Hammond's earnest amenability, Sumner chuckled darkly.
"I'm a stubborn cuss of a marine, Sheppard," he said. "But I'm not an idiot. If we're going to be here for a while, I'd rather not turn this into a pissing match."
"I don't think you're an idiot, sir," John said, looking away again. When he tended to recall Sumner, it was the tortured man on his knees, not the sarcastic one who'd played alpha dog and yet let him lead the negotiations with the Athosians. "But in two years here, I've had at least three races mucking around in my brain and all three would have been perfectly okay with me and mine dying. You'll excuse my caution just in case you turn out to be the fourth."
Sumner nodded, accepting the response. "In a way, it's good to hear," he said, pushing off of the railing and walking slowly along the balcony. "If we don't get back there, you'll end up in charge of the military. I've never put you in a position of authority. You've never wanted one and I figured that it was for a reason."
Intellectually, John knew that that's the way it was supposed to have gone here, but there hadn't been time to really ponder that particular What If. On the big list of events he wished could have come out differently, there were many others that ranked higher, even here in Pegasus -- worlds he could have saved from the Wraith and friends he could have saved from themselves. He wasn't big on self-reflection and didn't have a good mental picture of where he'd been two years ago, so that he wasn't that person anymore almost didn't matter. He didn't regret who he was now. "I kind of didn't have a choice."
"Necessity is a mother," Sumner agreed. "And speaking of, I'm sorry we reacted to your Ronon Dex. Guy was rabid like a dog when he attacked us; took most of a clip to put him down. Guttierez and Stackhouse were torn to shreds. Eversby's never gonna regain full use of his arm, even if we got him back to Earth."
Eversby had died in the siege, sucked dry by a Wraith and identifiable only by his tags. Guttierez, broken bones and a head wound, had gone back to Earth in the same wormhole that had returned Colonel Everett. Stackhouse was probably asleep in the barracks because his platoon had third shift.
"He was a Runner," John finally said, figuring the knowledge would cost him nothing. If the news would keep any potential invaders away, then it was good to share it. "The Wraith turn the people they can't feed on into training toys. Doesn't do much for their mental health."
"No shit," Sumner muttered, disgusted. He looked up at the sky and they stood quietly for a long moment before he spoke again. "Doctor Weir said that you've had the Wraith attack."
"More than once," John replied carefully.
"You get the automated SAM system working yet?"
John turned to where Sumner had paused by one of the buttresses. Did he mean the drone weapons? Did he want to know if they could defend themselves? "The what?"
Sumner smiled wryly. "Figured that might be a difference between here and my Atlantis," he said a little smugly. "We only found it by accident. Two floors down from the medical suite, fifth panel off of the second door on the right. Busted crystals or wiring or whatever the hell it was. Fix it and it'll bring up a screen on the holographic display in the control room. They're not drone weapons; we don't have the juice to fire those. They're smaller, but we've got a ton of them and we can run the batteries off of naquadah generators. You might be able to rig them to the control chair. We can't run that, either, so it's all theoretical for us."
John understood what this was -- an attempt to prove good faith. Whether it was actually good faith or not was a different matter. He still wasn't convinced that telling him anything was a good idea, but he had to make a choice whether to believe or not to believe before the doubt made him crazy. Elizabeth had chosen to accept the situation as presented and she had far more experience with this sort of thing than he did. He tapped his radio. "Rodney?"
"What?" The annoyed reply came back a long minute later. "I'm busy fighting with your overzealous minions."
"My overzealous minions are only doing their job," John replied patiently. He repeated Sumner's directions to Rodney, who bristled. He didn't pass on to Rodney what Sumner had said would be the effect. If it was on the level, then Rodney would be happily surprised. If it was something nefarious, then best they be looking for everything.
"Is this one of your 'hunches'? One of those vague wild-goose chases you send us on because you think you hear Atlantis when all that you really hear is your own sanity slipping away?"
"McKay," John warned. "Play nicely or you're not getting out there until tomorrow and it'll be Lieutenant Appleman who takes you."
As predicted, that shut Rodney right up.
"Must've been some accident if you remember it that well," John said to Sumner after he'd finished with Rodney. "I don't think even the OCD types in Engineering remember wonky panels off of the tops of their heads."
"It took up all of our attention for a week," Sumner said sourly. "The scientists started three fires and shorted out the control room for the better part of a day. It was memorable."
"We've had a few of those," John admitted. "Flooded rooms, sentient energy clouds, exploding microwaves...."
"Not sure I want to know about the sentient energy cloud," Sumner replied. "The rest I know too well."
"You should find out about the energy thing. Damn near killed us all," John said as he joined Sumner at the railing again. "Kinda got lucky that we stopped it before it did."
Sumner nodded, eyes on the horizon. "If we're here for any length, I'll match you mishap for mishap."
"Not that I'm not eager to hear about how trying to keep this place in one piece is apparently against the laws of time-space theory or whatever the hell got you here," John said. "But I think you'd rather be home."
It wasn't just that Ford, Markham, and Sumner were dead. It was also that he had to fight the urge to perform, to show them that Atlantis was doing well in their absences, that their sacrifices had been worth it. But there was no purpose to that, not really. Sumner could be floored by the Marine Corps efficiency of Little Tripoli, Ford could envy the lieutenants with their own missions and actual time off, and Markham could finally be content that enlisted men were no longer doing officers' jobs and it wouldn't make a difference. The men he wanted to thank -- to apologize to -- were lost forever.
"Ford's gone," Sumner began quietly. "Markham?"
"I had to train Markham to fly a jumper so that we'd have a second combat-capable pilot," John said, remembering the sergeant's dislike of the idea. He'd only finally agreed after realizing that Carson Beckett was the other choice. "He died in a jumper, chasing a Wraith dart over the city. Took Smith with him."
Sumner nodded somberly, accepting it for what it was -- a casualty of war. "Figured something like it. I'm dead, too, I gather?" He looked over at John. "There's a chance I just went back to Earth, but I'm thinking that wasn't it."
John sighed. "No, that's not it."
"In the siege?" Sumner asked, almost converationally, as if they were comparing notes on target practice. "Weir said you lost a lot of people then."
"We did," John agreed. "Forty dead, that many more wounded.... Do you really want to know, sir?"
Sumner shrugged, not looking at him. "Not if it was that dishonorable, but maybe even then if it's something we can use to save my Atlantis. 'If you can't be a good example, be an object lesson' and all that crap."
"It wasn't dishonorable," John replied quickly, then paused. "Only a couple of people here know. I guess it's just down to me and Elizabeth."
And then he told Sumner what had happened and what he'd done.
In his nightmares, the phantom Marshall Sumner had always called him a murderer, accused him of fragging, of cowardice, of taking the easy way out by cutting his losses instead of fighting to save him. But this Sumner just sort of chuckled mirthlessly and sucked loudly on his teeth.
"Not the ending I would have picked," he said. "Still, I've seen people drained dry by the Wraith, so I can't say I would've chosen differently. Can't offer you absolution, either, but I don't think you're looking for it."
There was nothing John was prepared to say to that, so he didn't.
"I guess that explains the difference between our Pegasus and yours," Sumner went on and John felt the familiar pang of guilt. "Our Wraith are still mostly sleeping, I suppose. Wonder how many more hives we can find before they wake up."
"If we knew where any of them were, I'd tell you," John said, meaning it. "We usually don't find them until they're on our doorstep."
"That's usually the way of it." Sumner agreed. "They haven't come to us yet, but it's only a matter of time. They've culled too many worlds where the people know who -- and where -- we are. Most of 'em are probably lunch, but all they have to do is interrogate one."
Sumner gave him an ironic smile, one that clearly said 'like they did here with me.'
"They'll probably show up regardless because they're Wraith and they're like that," John offered, "But they were so eager to get here because they know about Earth and know that it's a place they want to be. Without that, Atlantis itself is just another place to destroy and there's no real hurry to do that as long as you don't go out of your way to piss them off."
Despite the millenia of history, the Wraith didn't consider Atlantis a threat, more of a nuisance. One that hopefully they'd think they were relieved of for a while.
"I'd rather be ready when they do come," Sumner said. "We can fire the missiles, but they'll be useless against anything bigger than a dart."
John made a maybe-kinda-depends face; he'd seen how RPGs could take down million-dollar helicopters if struck in the right spot. The cave-dwellers in Afghanistan had figured it out, as had the khat-addled militias of Somalia. It wasn't as simple as that with the Wraith, but if one nuke could take out a hive ship, there was always hope.
"How did you find your ZPM?" Sumner asked.
"Got it from Earth, actually," John replied, not quite ready to give up Keras's world or even the loons over in the Brotherhood of Fifteen. But he'd consider the latter before Sumner's team left. Melina and her gothic novel crew wouldn't miss it. "You're just going to have to put your faith in General O'Neill."
Sumner snorted. "And that's how I got my ass parked in another galaxy with no way home."
"There's that," John agreed.
"Was kind of hoping the Genii had one," Sumner said after the door to the control room opened and then closed. John realized that they were taking away the designated smoking area for the control room personnel. "They're fleecing us on those damned tava beans. I'm guessing you're not trading for those anymore."
"We never actually got to try them," John admitted.
"Supposed to be like soy beans," Sumner told him, making a sour face. "The Athosians showed us how to process them. They said that you can make them taste like anything, but we've got marines on KP and they know fuck-all about what to do with tofu."
John laughed despite himself and Sumner joined in. For a moment, they were almost colleagues, despite the weirdness.
"The Genii really have an underground nuclear facility?" Sumner finally asked.
"Ours do," John replied, shrugging. If Sumner really was going to be here a while, he'd hear all about the Genii-Atlantis conflicts. "Your world may be different. Next time you're there, take a look in their barns for secret hatches half-hidden by hay. And then see if Sora shows up with a tommy gun."
"Sora?" Sumner repeated, both eyebrows up. He gestured with both hands to indicate Sora's most noticeable attributes. "That Sora?"
"That Sora," John confirmed. "She's the lieutenant of their commando team. We had her in the brig for six months. Tyrus was some mucky-muck for them and Cowen's their leader. He's a little cracked."
"I noticed," Sumner said.
"McKay thinks they're all going to die of radiation poisoning," John added.
"McKay's been there?" Sheer surprise from Sumner.
"He's the first guy I picked for my off-world team," John replied, enjoying Sumner's shock. "Yours doesn't get off-world much?"
Sumner snorted. "Our resident delicate flower prefers climate-controlled environments."
"Not popular?" John asked dryly. It pleased him perversely to realize that he might have had an improving effect on Rodney. He'd never really considered it any more than he'd considered what effect Rodney might have had on him.
"First guy the city'd throw to the Wraith," Sumner said, sounding very much like he'd be the one offering to lead him out there.
"This one's not so bad once you get to know him," John said, mostly to let Sumner know that he'd have to tread differently with this Rodney. "He's mostly all bark now. Still peels the paint every once in a while, but I think it's mostly to keep in practice. But don't tell him that I think he's been defanged."
Sumner laughed, this time less harshly. "Considering that you're the one McKay spends most of his time tormenting...."
John almost asked what his role was in Sumner's Atlantis, but decided against it. He didn't want to know.
"We should go back inside," he said instead. "Get you some chow, see whether Lorne or McKay have emerged victorious from their grudge match."
He didn't offer to take Sumner to Little Tripoli to see the marines at work and at play. It would be too disconcerting for those who had been part of the original expedition -- Laganzo was looking a little flustered still -- and they'd have to pass by The Wall, where Sumner could see his own photo and Markham's among the KIA and John would have to explain why Ford wasn't listed among either the dead or the missing.
When they came back into the control room, Lorne and McKay were by the corridor that led to the conference room, pretty much where he'd left them. Rodney was looking annoyed and Lorne had the long-suffering patient look he got when the only thing keeping him from drawing his personal weapon was the knowledge that he was winning the argument. Which meant that Rodney should quit while he was behind or he really was going to get stuck with Appleman.
"Well, I guess it's my fate in this reality to get interrogated by scary women," Sumner sighed as they headed back toward the small conference room.
"I'm sure Elizabeth--"
"That's called gallows humor, Sheppard," Sumner told him, then waved his hand at the crystals to get the door to rotate open.
Part Three: Rodney