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"What do you mean, 'no'?" McKay's eyes narrowed. "You have to be kidding me?"
There were levels of McKay glares, starting with the everyday, you aren't worth the trouble it would take to insult you, on up through I will invent a machine, travel back in time, and kill your mother, your father, and everyone they ever knew, to prevent your birth. (The stage before the last one was I will travel back in time and tell your mother what you just did, and it frightened a surprising number of people.) This one was no more than level two or three, somewhere in the clearly I need shorter words to accommodate your limited intellectual capacity range. John had seen this one, a lot, and it didn't bother him.
McKay using it right now meant he hadn't really expected John to let him sneak in and loot the nice people's temple.
The Thaniatins had a very pretty holy temple, all blue-colored rocks and gray mortar. Very attractive. Something in the holy temple was producing faint but interesting power readings of the kind that were like catnip for Dr. McKay. No big surprise that he was yanking at the leash to get inside.
"I'm just saying, we should wait until this Pursan guy gets back from whatever ritual he's off conducting and ask the nice man it if it's okay first," John said. "Ask him what he knows about what's in there."
"Please, Colonel," McKay scoffed. "Just because these people have bits and pieces of Ancient tech lying around doesn't mean they understand them."
"I'm not so much talking about understanding," John reminded him. "As about things like, oh, whether or not that square one bit someone the last time they touched it. That kind of thing."
"That— It—" McKay sputtered. "It didn't bite me. It was a blood sampling device." He didn't miss John signaling Ronon to get between Rodney and the temple door but Ronon was immune to all intensities of the McKay-glare.
"Turns out," John agreed. "But we didn’t know that at the time, did we?" He was feeling generous, so he didn't mention Rodney's complete and total oh, god, this time I'm going to die, the Pegasus galaxy has finally killed me meltdown.
"I'm not going to touch anything," McKay insisted. "I just want to take some readings. While we wait for this priest or whatever he is to finish his—thing—and come back and talk to us."
"And, what if while you're taking readings, you step on the holy, forbidden floor panel and it beams you away to the Ancient space lab on the other side of their moon and then you die horribly because there's no life support and you're not wearing a suit?"
"That's just ridiculous." Rodney looked wistful. "I wonder if the Ancients did have any kind of beaming technology hidden away?"
"I doubt it. None of the Ancient ships we've run across so far have had it." John was running out of scientist-distracting tactics so it was lucky that an older man, wearing some kind of formal-looking orange robes, came scurrying into sight just then, helped by the messenger that One, the village elder, had sent for him.
He was tiny—at first John thought the One's messenger was dragging a kid. The Pursan was just over five feet, John guessed, and skinny as a rail. He made John look beefy.
"My apologies, gentle guests," the Pursan gasped, yanking his arm out of the helpful grasp of the young woman. "I am told that you wish to view the resting place of the Ancient gifts? Had I known that we were to be honored with your visit, I would have rescheduled my visit to the—"
"Yes, yes," McKay interrupted impatiently. "Ritual, blah, blah, cleansing, blah. They told us. Can we go in now?"
John stepped into the breach caused by the Pursan's stunned reaction to McKay's rudeness. He had a lot of practice doing that. "The people of Dr. Meredith adulate the asshat aardvark for alternate aural interpretations," he said with a smile. "Our apologies. Their way of speech can seem discourteous to those not acquainted with them. He meant no disrespect to your ways." John liked that last bit; he'd copied it from things he'd heard Teyla say over the years. That was the magic part of the formula. Calling Rodney an asshole, however obliquely, was just a bonus. As was the muffled snicker from Ronon.
"I see." He clearly did not, but the Pursan nodded his head, and stopped looking quite so insulted.
Rodney's new glare, the one that Meredith always produced, didn't go away, but John didn't care. If they wanted to get in the temple, pissing off the guy with the keys was a bad first step.
"We would like to examine the interior of your temple," John persisted. "Dr. Meredith has a device—" John motioned to the scanner, "—that allows him to read the air and he is very interested in doing that kind of thing." Taking scanner readings to identify locations, sources, and kinds of Ancient power sources was hard to explain.
"Power readings?" The Pursan looked interested. "To scan the Ancient machines?"
Or, not.
"Precisely." Rodney gave John one last, don't think I'm going to forget that Meredith thing stare, which actually ranked pretty close to the top, then turned to wave the scanner at the Pursan. "I'm getting some anomalous—strange—readings from inside your temple. I'd like to explore further, but obviously we didn't want to enter without your permission."
"You are very gracious." Rodney shot John a smug look as the Pursan turned to the door. "Let me just—." The Pursan touched four of the symbols on the door ritually.
"Is that how the lock works?" They hadn't actually tried the door, the natives had been watching, but John was interested in knowing if they could have gotten in anyway.
"The door does not lock," the Pursan said casually. "There is no need. No one would enter without invitation, although all are welcome." He pushed the blue-rock door open. "It is a formal gesture of respect, no more."
"Okay." John stepped in front of McKay, ignoring the impatient huff, and followed the Pursan in. He glanced around. The room was well-lit, natural light from the high-placed windows. Two of the five walls had paintings or maybe inlaid designs. A lot of the same orangey color as the Pursan's robes. At the far end, toward the pointy end of the squeezed pentagram shape, was a large, black—sculpture? Looked sort of like a DHD pedestal.
McKay shoved past him, eyes fixed on the scanner.
"Is that a DHD?" John had to nudge him to get his attention.
"What?" McKay looked up and then pointed the scanner at the object. "No. I'm reading solid rock. Just decorative or something, I'm guessing."
"Pretty big rock to haul in here just for something to look at." That was Ronon, leaning against the door behind him.
"Art is like that," John told him. "Doesn't have to make sense. There's this guy on Earth, he got a big piece of this really flimsy fabric and he wrapped a whole building in it.
"Why?"
John shrugged. "Art." He'd never been able to forget the story, after he'd heard about it. There wasn't any point to a waste of labor and materials on that scale.
Ronon thought about that. "What about the people inside?"
"I don't know," John admitted. "I'm guessing they evacuated the building first."
"So, all these people standing around, they can't go back into their homes because some guy comes by and turns the building into 'art'?" Ronon shook his heads. "Your people have too much time on their hands."
"A lot of them do," John agreed. He watched McKay searching from wall to wall, taking readings and then moving on. "Okay. I need to get back to Teyla and the village elder guy to talk about trade. You good here?"
"I'll keep an eye on him." Ronon nodded. "Try to keep him from beaming himself into space."
"If the Pursan guy reaches for a spear, remind him about the asshat aardvark thing," John said. He wished he could stay here and send Ronon to Teyla, but he couldn't. First, One would be insulted. Second, John didn't have a big enough gun to force Ronon to sit through another trade negotiation.
"Maybe. Can't say I'd blame him." Ronon headed toward McKay who had switched the scanner for the datapad and was typing frantically.
John knew Ronon wouldn't actually let anyone stab Rodney, no matter how much he deserved it. He'd probably just pick the little guy up and make him sit on the DHD sculpture until he calmed down. "McKay," he called.
"Yes, Colonel?" He didn't look up or stop typing, but John was used to that.
"Anything interesting?"
"Too soon to know. The power readings are very faint, so probably nothing significant."
"Be careful," John ordered. He left Ronon on scientist-watching duty and went to do his own duty, making nice with the villagers who had some kind of beans and a really impressive valley full of fruiting vines. Crops that they might be willing to trade.
* * *
The meeting wound on through the usual two hours of eating, drinking the local equivalent of tea, talking to folks, describing the defeat of the Wraith—that one was always good for points in a trade negotiation—the local weather, all the normal stuff.
After the first hour, John stepped aside to check in with Ronon. "How's it going?"
"I'm outside," Ronon said.
"You left McKay alone?"
"I'm at the door," Ronon said patiently. ” McKay said I was distracting him. They talked about the holy things, but the guy said they're not holy. McKay says this isn't really a temple, more of a museum. Anyhow, the guy brought a bunch of them out and McKay took readings and stuff. None of them did anything, so the guy's getting some more. "
"Okay. Call me if anything happens." John wasn't sure if he was more comfortable when things seemed to be going smoothly, or after the inevitable disaster struck, because then he could stop waiting for it and get to dealing with the fallout.
The talks finally ended, for the day. Teyla stayed with One, arranging for a follow-up visit around putting in an irrigation system for their farmland, while John headed back to the temple. "How's it going?" John stopped to check in with Ronon, still lounging in the temple-museum doorway.
"That priest guy took off a little while ago." Ronon shrugged. "I've looked in a couple of times." McKay's still bent over that computer.
John stepped past him and into the blue-gray temple-museum. Rodney was at the far end, using the DHD sculpture for a desk. "Hey, McKay. Finding anything interesting?" He wandered over to check the nearest paintings. The designs might mean something to McKay, be mathematical or something, but they looked like the sort of stuff John had produced in kindergarten. Probably art.
"I think he's broken," Ronon said, his voice sharper.
John at Rodney. Hunched over a computer, staring at the screen, ignoring everything around him. Situation normal. "He looks okay."
"He's not working."
John took a longer look. Ronon was right—Rodney wasn't moving. Not just not talking, he wasn't even typing.
"Rodney!" He charged across the room, Ronon right behind him. Rodney was staring down at one of the Ancient gadgets, his fingers white-knuckled where he was holding it. It glowed—a faint light, but definitely on and doing whatever the hell it did.
Shit. John reached to take it out of his hand, but Ronon grabbed his arm. "What?"
"Do you know what that is?" Ronon stared at him. "What it's doing?"
"Of course not."
"Then don't touch it," Ronon ordered.
He was right, dammit. The gene. "See if you can get it out of his hand," John said.
Ronon tugged, then pulled harder. "He's got a good grip on it. Might have to break a finger."
"No," John said quickly. "Whatever it's doing, it might not be done—doing it. We need to get someone here to tell us what they know. How's his heartbeat?" If he shouldn't touch the device, he probably shouldn't touch the guy touching the device. Dammit. He hovered and watched Ronon check the pulse in Rodney's throat.
""Strong. Normal." Ronon stared down at McKay's blank face. "This is my fault. I should have noticed."
"He knows better than to handle unknown, Ancient devices," John said. "That's not what you were here for." His own heartbeat was racing. Hands—a little clammy. Adrenaline, but nothing to do with it. "When was the last time you actually heard him talk or saw him move?"
"When the Pursan guy left," Ronon said. "Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. No longer."
"Okay." So, Rodney hadn't been sitting there in a trance for the last two hours or anything. And the empty powerbar wrapper next to him meant he'd eaten, so not some weird hypoglycemic thing that John didn't know about. That was—a little reassuring. Or, not, because Rodney's hypoglycemia was something the infirmary could deal with. "Radio Teyla, tell her what's going on and get her back here. Both of you keep an eye on McKay. And gather up the rest of those things." He pointed at the other devices scattered around the top of the monument. "They may have something to do with this; we'll take them with us. I'll get back to the Gate and radio Atlantis."
He took off through the village at a run. The people had built pretty close to the Gate, so he didn't have far to go.
At the Gate, John punched in the address and sent his IDC. The seconds until they answered seemed endless. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Atlantis." Bates's voice?
"Atlantis, we have something of a situation here," John said.
"A situation? " Now it was Woolsey. "What's happened, Colonel? "
John described it.
"Very well. I'll send a medical team through; I assume that's what we need? " Woolsey was a lot calmer than he'd be if he'd been through some of these things with them in the past.
"No, we need Radek and an armload of those diagnostic things he and Rodney use," John said. "McKay's breathing fine, he's eaten recently, his heartbeat is normal." He hesitated. "Have the medical team standing by in the Gate room, just in case, but I think this is a tech problem."
"I see." There was a long silence. Dr. Zelenka says he can meet a team in the Gate room in ten minutes. They'll be coming through then."
"Okay, I'll wait here." The wormhole closed down a second later. John radioed Ronon. "Situation?"
"No change, " Ronon said. "Teyla's here and the village leader. They've got someone looking for the Pursan."
If the guy had taken off, that might mean he knew—or had arranged—whatever was going on with Rodney. "They need to find him," John radioed. "Zelenka's going to need to talk to him. The team will be coming through in five or six minutes. I'll bring them to you." He fought the urge to go look for the Pursan himself—to move, to do something.
"John." That was Teyla.
"Yeah?"
"One tells me that he has several people looking for the Pursan. In the meantime, Rodney's heartbeat is strong and stable, very normal. He is blinking and when I poured a few drops of water onto his tongue, he swallowed. I do not believe he is in any immediate physical danger."
"Okay, that's—. That's good to hear." The panic John was pretending not to feel eased.
"We will await your arrival with Dr. Zelenka. "
* * *
When Radek came through the Gate, he was empty-handed, but two of the Marines with him were loaded with gear. Sensible—they could run with fully loaded packs but any extra weight would slow the small scientist down. Someone else was there—Iverson? One of the lab techs.
"This way." John let them to the temple-museum building at a quick trot.
"Bring the equipment," Radek puffed, shoving past him. He was at Rodney's side a couple of seconds later. Iverson took a machine and one bag from a Marine and followed him, kneeling down to unpack the equipment.
John watched while Radek stared at the datapad screen, without touching it, checked the scanner readings, and pulled a couple of the other devices out of Ronon's bag to look at them. The gene therapy hadn't worked on Radek—he couldn't activate the Ancient tech but that meant it was usually safe for him to touch it. That didn’t affect his effectiveness—next to Rodney, there was no one John trusted more when it came to Ancient tech.
Major Edison stopped beside John. "Anything else we can do at the moment, sir?"
"No, now we let the brainiacs do their thing." John glanced at him. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but I was kind of expecting Lorne and his team."
Edison wasn't smiling, but he only avoided it by a hair. "Lorne's in the infirmary getting treatment."
"What the hell happened?" Lorne's team hadn't been scheduled to go offworld today. "Tell me no one blew up the city or something."
"He was in the mess hall," Edison said. "Showing them how to make something he called a 'fried pie.' Burned his hand on some hot grease. Not bad, but the docs wanted to take a look at it."
"I'm offworld and my 2iC gets himself benched in a cooking accident?" Even though his worry, John couldn't resist the grin. "Remind me to discuss that with him." Radek, taking readings of Rodney's device, looked intent but not worried.
"Yes, sir." Edison grinned back. Lorne was going to be a while living this one down.
There was a movement down the street—lane. Most of the villagers had gone to ground at the first sign of trouble, so John could clearly see Ronon coming toward, them, one of the Pursan's arms firmly in his grip. The man's hair was standing on end and the orangey robes he was trying to hold closed flapped around his bare knees. His mouth was flapping, too, but at the pace Ronon was setting, he probably didn't have enough air to talk.
So, the guy had been off taking a nap? If so, then he wasn't responsible for, Rodney's situation. That was good and bad. Good, because the new trading partner with food to offer wasn't an enemy in disguise. Bad because he probably wouldn't know what had happened to McKay or how to fix it.
John touched the comm unit as he and Edison stepped outside the door. "Teyla?"
"Dr. Zelenka is still checking."
"Okay. Keep me posted. I'm going to talk to this Pursan guy, and then we'll be in."
"Very well.”
"This person tells me that one of the devices has activated," the Pursan wheezed, yanking his arm out of Ronon's grip. He fastened his robes, muttering something that sounded a lot like asshat aardvark. "I know nothing of this. Many, many visitors have seen and handled the Ancient devices and none ever lit up before." He glared up at them. "If your Dr. Meredith has damaged the device, I will tell One."
If he'd been calling Rodney 'Dr. Meredith', it was no wonder McKay had run him off. "His name's actually Dr. McKay," John said apologetically. "Meredith is—it was kind of a joke."
"I suspected something of the sort." The Pursan nodded. "It seemed to annoy him when I said it; his face turned very red." He frowned darkly. "So I, in turn, used it when he annoyed me with his religious rudeness. We—did not do well together."
Edison turned away, coughing. John should have stuck around, that one would have been worth popcorn and maybe videotaping. He liked this little guy better already. "Sometimes Ancient devices need someone with the gene to activate them," he said, moving on. "We think that's what happened here."
"Gene?" The man looked up at him with a frown. "And what is a gene?"
John gave the quickest, simplest possible explanation of genetic structure and the genetic link some people had with the Ancients. Long practice made the explanation short. Not that informative, but short.
"We had never thought of that." The Pursan looked disturbed. "I have never heard of such a thing. These devices were of the Ancients, and meant for their touch but we have always assumed that they could have value to no one else."
"There aren't many people in the Pegasus galaxy who have the gene," John told him. "No reason you would have known."
"Your Dr. Meredith has this gene. And he knew," the Pursan said shrewdly. "I can see that now, in the way he handled each device."
"Yeah, he did."
"Then he knew there could be danger. A thing I did not know. What he has brought upon himself is not the fault of the Thaniatins."
That was too true to argue with. "Look," John said quickly. "We're not mad at you or anything. We're not blaming you. We just hoped that you might be able to help us figure out what happened. If you were in the middle of something important—"
"No matter." The Pursan looked depressed. "She will have left by now." Edison choked, then stepped away and pretended to be coughing again. "I will be happy to offer what limited assistance I can."
"We really appreciate it," John said with all the sincerity he could project. "Really."
The Pursan stopped by Edison and frowned up at him. "I am told that your people have many advanced medicines. You should ask a healer about that cough." He swept through the doorway, leaving Edison red-faced and embarrassed behind him.
As John followed him though the blue door, he decided that he really, really liked the little guy.
* * *
Inside the stone museum, things stopped being funny again immediately. Teyla and Iverson were each pointing machines at Rodney and repeating readings to Radek, who was entering them into his own datapad. Rodney was—doing nothing. Still. It was unnerving and not a little scary. Rodney moved more than this when he was unconscious.
The Pursan made a beeline to One and was probably complaining about the offworlders' bad manners, his interrupted date, and how none of this was his fault.
John headed for the group around Rodney. "We know anything yet? Anything else you need, Radek?"
The scientist pushed his glasses up his nose. "An EEG machine and a qualified technician, possibly?"
John patted his pockets. "Don't think I packed those this morning. You want me to call Atlantis and get a medical doc here?" He leaned over to look at Rodney's face. "He's somewhere else, all right."
Radek came over and pointed at the device. "This is the only instrument in the room that is giving off any power readings of significance. We must assume that those Rodney discarded were unresponsive to the gene-touch. We have not tried again to remove it from—"
Rodney's hand spasmed and opened. The light went out and the Ancient gadget dropped onto the black stone. John reached for it, but Radek snatched it before he could touch it. "Are you mad?" He stared at John. "I can only deal with one reckless fool at a time, Colonel."
"Sorry." John felt stupid. "Reflex."
Rodney twitched. He twisted his neck, then both hands went to his back and he stretched carefully. Oh, my god, how long was I sitting here. I'm going to be laid up for a week, why didn't anyone come to check on me?
John was pretty sure that's what he was saying, even if he didn't know why he was saying it in what sounded like—Orc?
"Uh, McKay?" John got there a second before Radek. "You okay?"
No, of course I'm not okay. I'm practically crippled here, can you not see that? Only, it came out as "Exclk freafe q-agm eegn-er'l selk'n'gelso!" Or, something a lot like that.
"Well." Radek looked at McKay thoughtfully. "This is interesting development." He looked at John. "He is aware—himself?" He said it very quietly, and John nodded. Iverson backed away, looking a little wild around the eyes. She hadn't been in Pegasus long.
"Looing sat oi'nfnvi engre?" How long have I been here? Rodney felt his pockets and pulled out another power bar. "Q-emgi." I'm starving. He took a bite, and then looked around, frowning. "Mofene jphhen do?" What's going on?
"McKay—Rodney." Zelenka got in first this time. "Can you hear yourself speak?"
"Freafe'l oi'selk'n," Rodney said thickly. Of course I can. "Ols?" Why? His eyes widened. "Leipe jsled ginel? Leipe'n mofe?” Did something happen? What happened?
"Nothing happened, Rodney," John said quickly. McKay screaming Orcish through a panic attack wouldn't help the situation.
"Bitl euf." Oh, really? McKay glared at Zelenka, and then at John, suspiciously. "Radek jsled leip'n sela dou-me sak."
Hard to say—he seemed to be pointing out that something must have happened, or Zelenka wouldn't be there—where he hadn't been that morning. Not important. "Look,' John went on, "I don't know how much you remember. We're in the temple-museum place still, you remember that?" McKay nodded, still chewing. "Okay, well, you were looking at the Ancient devices the Pursan—" the mention of the little man made McKay's eyes narrow, "—was showing you. He left, and you kept working. Eventually, one of them activated when you touched it. Do you remember that?"
"Voel, theng q-me elgion," McKay said impatiently. Yes, because I'm not an idiot.
"Then," John said carefully, "You went into some kind of trance or something for about forty-five minutes. You just came to and—you're not exactly speaking English anymore."
"Q-agm?" I'm not? Rodney shoved the rest of the power bar into his mouth and chewed for a moment. "D-azm me on.veme geltn. V'coa oi'emx nvnie toe." Sounds like English to me. And I seem to be talking to you.
Yes, he was. Which was, kinda strange. "I'm mostly guessing at what you're saying," John admitted. He'd had five intensive years, learning to speak McKay. He looked around. "Anyone else getting any of this?"
They all looked at each other, but no one spoke.
Okay, then. John turned back to McKay. "I'm getting it because I have a pretty good idea what you say in these situations—" Rodney crashed out a furious mouthful of Orc that John didn't even try to understand. "Yes, you do do this a lot," he interrupted. "This one is—a little different, I'll admit. We just need you to stay calm while we figure this out."
"Toes?" You? Rodney rolled his eyes.
"Yes, us," Radek said belligerently. "How many times do we agree that a problem cannot be solved if it is not understood? If you cannot hear yourself, you do not understand problem. Also, you are making my head hurt, so please be quiet for a moment."
McKay huffed and crossed his arms, his mouth firmly shut. Radek was the only person in the city McKay took that kind of thing from.
In John's very private opinion, this was Radek's superpower. The ability to silence the rabid McKay.
"Very well," Radek said. "Now we know the device affects the speech center of the brain. This is a big help. Perhaps some temporary—scrambling. Rewiring. I think we should escort Dr. McKay back to Atlantis. Some of the equipment in the medical infirmary may be of assistance." Rodney's mouth set stubbornly and he didn't move. Radek sighed and dug out Rodney's datapad. "Try typing, perhaps you will be more intelligible."
McKay's face brightened. He snatched the computer. His fingers poised over the keyboard and—didn't move. After a couple of seconds, he looked frustrated, then panicky. "Exvik'oi meili tu!"
"Don't wig out, Rodney," John ordered.
Radek pulled the datapad away gently. "It was worth a try," he explained. "The part of the brain that governs audible speech and the part that handles writing are separate. It did not work, but—" he looked at McKay hopefully. "—is more data. Which is good."
McKay just stared at him.
"Let's get back to Atlantis," John said.
Rodney held up a hand, his eyes losing focus.
"McKay?" John stepped forward. "What's wrong?"
Rodney shook his head, and waved John off. Radek took his arm and pulled John back a step. "Idea," he breathed. "I will need you to translate."
"I don't speak Orc, Radek," John hissed. "I'm only getting what's he's said so far from tone of voice and because this isn't our first encounter with weird effects from Ancient tech. I can't translate something I've never heard before."
"Q-agm Orc," Rodney said.
"No, I don't think it is," Radek agreed. "Are not enough guttural sounds." He blinked at Rodney. "You said 'orc.' In English, I mean."
"Orc?" Rodney blinked. "Sell flienyn. ti'mef engeli bngoing!" There was a lot more to it, but John wasn't getting any sense out of it, so he didn't try to untangle the sounds. "Q-agm bmefl, entxiv enlnig nobgebi ogege!" It went on for a while after that, even. Iverson backed toward the Marines.
Radek, though, was listening and nodding. "Quite brilliant," he said briskly. "Ground-breaking, I am certain. Unfortunately, no one here could understand it, so perhaps you should save your breath?"
Rodney shoved his face close to Radek's. "Orc," he yelled. He stood back and crossed his arms. "Begno." He pointed to the floor. "Ingolfe," he added, pointing up. "Woweva." He was calmer.
"It's a language," Ronon said unexpectedly. "Sounds like gibberish, but it's a language."
"Of course." Radek looked excited. "And the word 'orc' came out in English because there is no word for that in his current vocabulary!" He stared at Ronon. "That is really—very insightful."
Ronon shrugged. "He figured it out. I was just—"
"Speaking McKay," John suggested. He watched Rodney hand Ronon a chocolate bar. "I think he appreciated the translation. For what it's worth."
"No problem," Ronon told McKay. He opened the chocolate bar and took a bite. "Thanks. Missed lunch."
"Oh můj bože." Radek lunged at Rodney and grabbed the collar of his shirt."Is it— Dr. McKay, are you speaking Ancient?"
Rodney nodded, looking smug. He hashed out some—not-Orc—and picked up the device he'd been holding while he was in his trance. He waved it at Radek, who was still looking stunned.
"A teaching device?" Radek frowned when Rodney nodded, then shook his head. "Perhaps for children?" Rodney shrugged, then shook his head again. "Or—" Radek stopped moving. "The Stargates?" Rodney nodded slowly.
John spoke McKay, but he didn't really speak Zelenka that well. "Radek?"
"The Stargates," Radek said impatiently. "We have known that they provide translation service so that even long-separated cultures are able to communicate with each other. The Ancients must have done much research. A device like this—" he pointed to the gadget Rodney was still holding, "—would have most likely been a part of that research."
"So." Interesting, but not immediately useful. "Cool, huh?"
"Yes, yes, very cool." Radek rolled his eyes, looking amazingly like Rodney, who was doing the same thing at the same moment. "This is an amazing discovery!"
"I'm sure it is." John nodded. "But let's not lose sight of the immediate situation, here. This gadget stirred McKay's brain so that he could speak Ancient and, I agree, very, very cool, but now he can't speak English. Or, apparently, write it. Which is a problem."
"But a much smaller problem," Radek insisted. "To arrive at a solution, we needed to understand. Now we do. And we know the Ancients solved the translation problem, so all we need to do is to research the database."
"Well, okay." John looked around. "Can we go home now?"
"Of course. We should not be wasting time here." Radek called Iverson back over and they started packing up the equipment under Ronon's watchful eyes. Rodney stood and watched, his face some weird combination of panicked and fascinated as he muttered various things to himself in Orc—Ancient. John went to collect Teyla.
"We do regret this problem," One told them. The Pursan was at his elbow, probably making sure no one tried to blame him. "I promise you that we were not aware there were any people capable of making use of the Ancient devices or you would have been warned."
"We understand," Teyla said gently. "Our people will solve this. We, in turn, regret any misunderstandings that might have arisen at first."
"Surely you will not blame the Thaniatins for this misunderstanding?"The Pursan looked at John hopefully. "You are not angry?"
"Well, I liked you better before you broke my scientist," John told him. "Knowing about that whole, 'touch of the Ancients' thing would have been helpful." That wasn't really true but John wasn't done being weirded out yet, he wouldn't be until McKay was back to speaking English.
Also, they'd offered to triple the Thaniatins crop yield and the One had only offered them twenty percent of that yield in payment. Maybe a little guilt would improve the offer.
"Where are they taking the devices?" The Pursan's face went angry. "The devices are missing. You have taken them!"
"Dr. Zelenka," John called. "I had Teyla and Ronon pack up the stuff Rodney was looking at. You think you'll still need it?"
"The other devices? No." Radek bustled over. "The translation device, yes. It could be very useful."
"Those are the property of—" The Pursan caught John's glare—Sheppard-speak No. 7, or which knee can you spare, and stopped. He cleared his throat. "Of course, if the one object will be of use in your work, you may borrow it and return it when you no longer have need of it."
* * *
Back on Atlantis, the infirmary ran every test Zelenka could think of and a couple more. They confirmed that the centers of Rodney's brain responsible for language, speech and writing, showed a little more activity than usual but other than that, they insisted that all the readings were dead on target for McKay-normal. Of course, they wanted Rodney to spend the night there anyhow, so they could keep an eye on him.
"Leipeten tilmet," Rodney said. Not happening. He climbed off the bed, his mouth tight.
"Tell me, doctor," Woolsey said. He'd met them at the Gate and followed them to the infirmary. "Is there any suggestion that Dr. McKay is beginning to experience any additional adverse reactions, at this point?"
"No," she said. "But I'd feel better if he weren't left alone. Not all of these Ancient devices are safe for use." Understatement of the year. "Someone needs to monitor him, especially for the next twelve hours."
Rodney slid John a begging look. He'd tried talking to the medical staff but none of them had gotten a word of it.
"Okay," John told him. He looked at Woolsey and the doc. "I'll keep an eye on him. Won't be the first time."
"Q-imneat eghslin" McKay didn't seem to think John was sufficiently excited about giving up the next twelve hours of his life to babysit a reckless scientist.
"Hey, you're welcome," John said with a grin. "No problem, buddy. None at all."
Rodney rolled his eyes and huffed. John wasn't fooling him, but he hadn't really been trying.
"Dr. McKay needs to eat a meal," the doctor said firmly. "Not powerbars. A meal. And then I'd really rather he stayed in his quarters and rested. And, of course, call me immediately if there's any change in his condition."
Rodney Orcished—Anciented at John cheerfully as they headed for the cafeteria. He didn't seem to expect John to listen or try to understand, so John let the sounds go in one ear and out the other. A pretty normal conversation, in other words.
People they passed glanced at Rodney and shook their heads, but they all moved on without comment.
John was starting to wonder when the level of weird in the Pegasus galaxy got so high that not even someone speaking Orc merited a double-take.
* * *
After dinner, John steered Rodney toward his quarters, ignoring his tendency to drift toward the lab where Radek was working. "Forget it. The doctor finds out, she'll have you shackled to an infirmary bed." Rodney said something brief and insulting about doctors and mediaeval medical techniques that didn't need translation. They stopped by John's for a change of clothes; John wasn't sleeping in his dirty post-mission gear, even if he did have to sleep in a chair.
"How about a movie," John suggested, once they made it to Rodney's quarters. He woke up the computer and scanned the shared movie files in the database. Rodney was quiet—never a good sign—it meant unhappy. "I'm thinking, it's a Sleepless in Seattle kind of evening, what do you say?"
"Veny cynllgit effillntngy," Rodney snapped. He jerked the computer away and ran his own search.
John leaned over his shoulder, grinning, to help pick. "Hey, Die Hard, that's a good one."
"Leipeten tilmet," Rodney muttered. He elbowed John and pointed.
"What? 2001? Forget it," John said. "It's slow and boring." Rodney made insulting remarks about people who equated 'entertainment' with a body count. They argued for a while, before settling on Star Trek VI. John wasn't a big fan, but it was better than 2001.
There was a moment, about an hour into the movie, when Rodney's mouth drooped again. John had been waiting for it—Rodney forgetting about a problem, especially one that affected him for an entire evening wasn't possible. John dug out the bag of cheez doodles he'd smuggled out of his quarters and dropped them into Rodney's lap. "I've been hanging onto those. Seems like a good time for them."
"Qeirtty doodles!"
"Well, now we know the Ancients never invented the cheez doodle," John told him. "Also, queirtty means cheese. That's valuable intel, right there." Rodney ripped the bag open and ate a handful. "Hey, you have to share."
Rodney generously offered him the bag. John settled onto the bed next to him, staying close was the only way to get any before the bag was empty.
The movie went on.
"Aengni gnyilla Shatner aggting," Rodney said with a smirk.
"Yeah, he's looking rough," John said. He nudged Rodney. "It's the blond thing. Fair-haired people don't age well."
"Q- jphhen lu." Rodney touched his face where he thought John wouldn't see him, frowning.
"The amount of sunscreen and girly moisturizer you put on your face, I'm sure you'll be young and pretty forever," John teased.
Rodney took the cheez doodles back and ate two handfuls deliberately.
On-screen, the conspiracy theory started unfolding. "Baling elinge nooneet neuse retested weor woeg urnely," Rodney objected.
"I know. People always think governments are smarter than they are." John shook his head. "And better at keeping secrets. If the US government really tried that, about fifty people would be running to the New York Times an hour later. No way."
"Baling inbenty lurgreg noeewew enthor," Rodney said.
"The Stargate program, the SGC is mostly a military secret," John objected. "It's entirely different. Not a lot of government people know about it, only a few at the highest levels."
Rodney looked at him and frowned. He made a few Orcish sounds. John didn't catch the meaning this time. Rodney tried again, waving from John to himself to the computer screen.
Oh. "We've watched this movie together four times, Rodney. By now we both know what we're going to say."
Rodney didn't seem reassured. John rolled his eyes, making sure Rodney saw him. "Is there any movie we've watched together that you don't know my opinion of?" He turned back to the computer screen, watching Rodney out of the corner of his eyes. Rodney thought about that. He shook his head, but his mouth wasn't doing the unhappy, crooked thing, so John let it go.
He was thinking, though, not watching the movie, so John knew what was coming. "Oi'bente toe," Rodney said, hesitantly. ”Oi'gennat naeogla gehops genis oi'bente egnsa toe." His face was an unfamiliar combination of expectant and worried.
"Okay, now you're just messing with me," John said, not looking around. "I already said I'm not a magic translator. I know how you react in a lot of situations, especially in the field or watching a movie we have half-memorized, but you're not predictable, so stop worrying."
Rodney huffed, grinning, so, okay, whatever John hadn't got—probably an insult or at least something Rodney hadn't really wanted him to understand.
They argued again when it was time to sleep. John settled the chair where he could grab some space at the foot of the bed and stretch out his legs. Rodney Orcished objections about John's back, the stupidity of the medical staff, thinking he needed a minder, the fatal spine damage John was inevitably going to suffer, and so on.
John nodded and pretended to listen for as long as he could stand it. Finally, he interrupted. "For the record, this one's going down in history as the time you Orc'd at me for an hour."
"Q-agm Orc," Rodney muttered.
"Anciented doesn't have the same ring." He waited, but Rodney didn't seem to have a comeback for that one. "Get to sleep," John ordered. "I'm sure Radek will have something by morning."
"Q-navnie toe," Rodney muttered. He glanced at John. "Zenge onet oi'be. Oi'bente toe." He smiled, his eyes unexpectedly warm. "Oi'bente toe," he said, with gentle emphasis.
It sounded like—. No, couldn't be.
John closed his eyes and went to sleep, figuring he was never going to know.
**end**