L-Space Excursions

Fic - First Responder

Fri, 04 Jul 2008 02:56:28 GMT

Title: First Responder (First Aid Challenge)
Author: slybrarian
Rating: PG-13
Characters: gen-ish with implied Sheppard/Lorne, Lorne/McKay
Words: 2000
Series: Dramatic Exit, but reading the rest is not required.
Summary: Five times Evan Lorne gave (something vaguely resembling) first aid.
Notes: Very tiny spoilers for 4x20, so small they're barely noticeable.

(It's just a flesh wound!)

SGA Fic - Nuclear Relationships

Wed, 18 Jun 2008 03:21:05 GMT

Title: Nuclear Relationships
Author: slybrarian
Rating: PG-13
Characters: McKay/Sheppard, Sheppard/Lorne, combinations thereof
Words: 1034
Series: Dramatic Exit, but reading the rest is not required.
Summary: In which Rodney's newest theory on relationships is explained.
Author's notes: Beta by archae_ology.

(One moment things are tooling along fine, the next moment half the countryside is glowing in the dark.

Fic - Birds, Bees, and Related Fauna

Sat, 24 May 2008 05:35:44 GMT

Title: Birds, Bees, and Related Fauna (Fairy Tales challenge)
Author: slybrarian
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Gen-ish; referenced Sheppard/Lorne in background
Words: 1705
Series: Dramatic Exit
Summary: In which certain facts of life are explained... sorta. Look, John's a military commander, he's not used to this sort of thing.
Author's notes: Beta by archae_ology

(Wait, what?)

BSG Fic - Some Friendly Advice

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 02:05:02 GMT

Title: Some Friendly Advice
Author: slybrarian
Rating: PG
Characters: Gaeta + Dylan Four
Words: 887
Spoilers: Through 4x01.
Summary: In which Felix Gaeta gives out some friendly advice.

Felix Gaeta was tired. As usual, he'd pulled an extra-long shift as he and the (acting temporary no-really-he's-not-permanent) XO had coordinated damage control and repair efforts through the fleet, while also plotting and executing several more jumps away from the nebula. There had also been the complication of Kara Thrace trying to shoot the president, although really that had mostly meant that most of the command staff had been away from CIC and letting him do his job instead of making him teach remedial astronomy. He didn't expect much to come of that, because the words 'Starbuck' and 'consequences' usually never went in the same sentence. Felix had considered for a moment that she might have a little justification about being annoyed at people suspecting her to be a Cylon, what with all twelve being accounted for, but quickly discarded the idea. After all, only a few people knew that was the case, and Felix sure as hell wasn't going to be bringing it up.

In any case, Cylonhood was what brought Felix to Colonel Tigh's quarters after his shift, when he should have been heading for the mess to get whatever latest algae-food the chefs had created - maybe it was algae-meatloaf, algae-sausage, or perhaps algae-soup. He didn't bother to knock but instead just opened up the hatch and stepped inside, getting four mildly-horrified stares.

Tigh was the first to recover, snapping, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Mister Gaeta?"

"Sorry about just barging in, sir," Felix said, not feeling sorry at all, "but I thought now would be the best time to catch you all together."

That made everyone else in the room sit up a little straighter. "What's that supposed to mean?" Tigh asked.

"We're just having some drinks," Tory quickly added, "and talking about, uh...."

"Your time in the resistance?" Felix helpfully supplied.

"Exactly!"

"Which means you aren't invited," Tigh growled. Tyrol and Anders both winced, and Felix had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"Look, I've just got three things to say, and then I'll leave, okay?" Felix said. "One: you're Cylons. Deal with it already. Two: if you're going to have super-secret Cylon club meetings, try to at least come up with a plausible cover story. That goes along with three: please, for the love God or the gods or whatever the frak you believe in, stop freaking out in public. If you keep looking at each other every time someone says the word 'Cylon' it's going to get noticed. Or at least it would if there was anyone halfway observant on this ship."

That was possibly unfair. Dee would notice, if she hadn't had years of experience at blocking out Tigh's insanity. Helo would also probably notice, if he wasn't trying to simultaneously be XO and CAG while not getting any sleep due to a cranky child. Athena had noticed and, as far as Felix could tell, was finding the entire situation hilarious. Seeing the looks on their faces, Felix had to agree with her.

"We're not Cylons!" Tyrol protested, not sounding convincing in the least.

"Nope, not at all," Anders agreed. "I can't think of any reason you'd think that."

"Well, you have been acting a little strange lately. Listening to things that no one else can here, for example," Felix replied, "Or the way Ensign Anders was talking to that Raider during the battle. I took the liberty of deleting your gun camera footage, by the way."

"Thanks?"

Once again, Tigh was the first to catch on. "You're a Cylon, too!"

Felix nodded. "Brilliant deduction, sir. Yes."

"When did you figure it out?" Tyrol asked.

"About the time I started hearing mysterious music in my head." Felix paused, then admitted, "Although I did consider the possibility that I'd finally snapped, but then you all started to hear it, too, so I just went back to doing my job."

"But... we all were drawn to meet each other. Why didn't you show up?"

"Well, unlike some people, I have work to do. I can't just flip out and go wandering around the corridors, especially in the middle of an emergency. The last time I called in sick Hoshi nearly jumped the ship into a star." Not for the first time, Felix wished that Dee was a Cylon. He liked Anders and Tyrol, but sometimes they could be a bit dense. Dee at least would have done more than sit there in shock. Maybe she'd be willing to be an honorary Cylon or something.

After a few more moments, Felix checked his watch and said, "Right. I'm going to get some food. If any of you want to actually talk, you can catch me later."

Felix left and no one tried to stop him, although just as the hatch slammed shut he heard Tigh start to say, "Frak me, but that was strange." He shook his head, and wondered if Athena and Helo might be willing to give them all tips on embracing their inner robot. Gods knew the other four needed all the help they could get.

Fic - Hard to Explain

Wed, 02 Apr 2008 16:23:19 GMT

Title: Hard to Explain (Family Challenge)
Author: slybrarian
Rating: PG
Pairing: Chuck/Parrish
Words: 510
Series: Dramatic Exit
Notes: Written between classes. For more Chuck background, including an evil moose, see "For Reasons Not Worth Going Into", and "First Time For Everything."
Summary: Chuck takes Parrish to a family reunion in the Great White North.

(Four Mounties For the Price of One)

Fic - A Chance Encounter

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 19:29:30 GMT

Title: A Chance Encounter (Not Dead Yet challenge)
Author: slybrarian
Rating: PG
Characters: Gen; John and Adria
Words: 2,228
Summary: John's new team goes on a simple botanical mission, and they discover that even in the Milky Way John still attracts every female galactic overlord around. Set during "The Return, Part I" and features Team Bumbling Fools.
Author's notes: Beta by archae_ology.

(No Furlings were harmed in the writing of this fic.)

Fic - Vacation Hours

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 04:54:32 GMT

Title: Vacation Hours (Second Verse Challenge)
Author: slybrarian
Rating: R
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Words: 2,888
Summary: In which John touches something, and finds himself with a few free days. Or one free day, depending on how you count it.
Author's notes: Beta by archae_ology. I figure it's totally fair to post two responses for this challenge, right?

(Didn't I read an SG-1 report like this once?)

Fic - Recommended Stress Relief

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 04:49:48 GMT

Title: Recommended Stress Relief
Author: slybrarian
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard/Lorne
Words: 4,538
Series: Dramatic Exit
Author's notes: Beta by archae_ology and scifinut. So, uh, yeah. I seem to have written a third response to this challenge. Follows up on two previous flashfic entries that people thought I should do more with, Still Alive! and Mild Inconvenience. So it's totally legal... please don't kill me.
Summary: In which the city, being ever-helpful, decides that Doctor McKay needs some stress relief.

(This calls for more than just cake.)

Fic - Training Session

Tue, 19 Feb 2008 03:41:59 GMT

Title: Training Session
Author: slybrarian
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gen...more or less
Words: 1,149
Series: Dramatic Exit
Summary: In which Lieutenant Cadman and Ex-Lieutenant Webster give a polite lecture to some new guys.
Author's notes: Beta by archae_ology and scifinut. A bit loose on the challenge, but I saw the prompt and this is what immediately came out. This takes place in a slash universe, but there's nothing beyond some vague references and friendship in this fic. For reference, Webster is an OC from a previous flashfic found here.

(Lorne should have known better.)

Fic - Seven Regrets

Mon, 11 Feb 2008 05:08:53 GMT

Title: Seven Regrets About Love
Author: slybrarian
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sheppard/OMC, Sheppard/Nancy, Sheppard/Holland, Sheppard/McKay, Sheppard/Atlantis, Sheppard/Lorne
Words: 3092
Series: Dramatic Exit
Summary: Seven people that John Sheppard has love, and what he regrets about each one
Author's notes: Beta by archae_ology.

1) Steven Hamilton

The less said about Steve, the better. John should have known better than to think there was such a thing as love at seventeen, or that it could possibly end well. Still, if a quarterback in the Deep South could like him, you know, like that, what was the worst that could happen in California?

In retrospect, saying that aloud had probably been a bad idea.

Steve was just about everything a young maybe-possibly just-a-little queer guy could want. He was tall and incredibly fit, had sun-bleached hair and a great tan, and his smile was dazzling. He was energetic and outgoing, captain of the varsity basketball team (no one was quite perfect), and had the kind of easy-going charm that made everyone want to like him. He was even a fellow service brat who's father was stationed at Vanderberg just like his mom and one of his uncles. John had fallen into his circle of friends within a week, and within a month they were starting to near best friends territory, or at least that's what John had thought. After two months, John was head over heals in the biggest crush ever.

It took three more months to work up the nerve to actually do anything. He'd had high hopes going in, and not without reason. John had gone through a short but fun fling with a friend back at his previous posting, a relationship born as much out of the knowledge they'd never see each other again if things went bad as it was of attraction, and it'd gone well right up until his mom had walked in one night. John had noticed that Steve never seemed to pay nearly as much attention to girls as most of the other guys did, which made him think that maybe he wouldn't mind some companionship of the male sort.

John finally made his move on a Friday afternoon. The weather was perfect and John had just aced his calculus exam, which had to be some kind of good sign. He managed to get Steve alone after school and after few minutes of chatting managed to force himself to ask the question. John suggested they grab a bite to eat and maybe catch a movie. Steve had laughed and said it sounded like he was asking him on a date. John laughed to and denied it, but he must have hesitated or shown something in his expression. Steve stepped back quickly and stared at him, his twisted with disgust, and the first words out of his mouth where, "You fucking faggot." John tried to deny it at first, but that only made Steve angrier, and soon he was shouting that if John didn't stay away from him he'd beat the shit out of him and tell everyone what he was.

John just sucked it up and nodded sharply, then stalked away with his back straight and head held tall. He was proud of keeping his self-control and not belting the bastard right there, and for managing not break down and cry when he got home. His stiff upper lip lasted until his mom got home, because all it took was one look for her to figure out that there was something wrong. She'd held John in her arms while he told her everything, manfully managing not to sob, until he'd eventually worked it out of his system. He had never seen her so furious before, and after later that night, as he lay sleepless in bed and stared at the ceiling, he had heard her talking angrily on the phone with his grandmother. On Monday Steve showed up at school black and blue and doing all he could to avoid John, and John couldn't help but notice that two of his cousins shadowed him for a few weeks until the Hamiltons moved away because of a sudden transfer to Alaska. Even John's asshole older brother Dave managed to look sympathetic the next time he was living with Dad, at least for the first day or two.

John doesn't really regret loosing that friendship, because anyone who would turn on someone that easily wasn't worth his time and probably never had been. He just wonders sometimes if he'd be a little better at the whole relationship if his first try hadn't crashed and burned so badly. On the bright side, at least it'd left him prepared for Bob.

2) Todd Stirling

Todd and John were in classes together at Stanford. Pale, stick-thin, and floppy-haired he looked every bit as geeky as he was. He was also openly and unashamedly gay, and while that wasn't as unthinkable as it once had been it was still unusual. It was a bad idea for an ROTC student to be around with someone like him, but before John knew what he was doing they were studying together, went gaming together, and for reasons he's not entirely clear on one night they started sleeping together. They were together for almost three years, and he even took Todd home to meet his mom, although he never quite worked up the nerve to introduce him to his dad. More than once John wondered if he'd found the one he wanted to spend his life with. It wasn't like he didn't have plenty of options available to him if that was the choice he wanted to make.

In the end, though, John wanted to fly and wanted to serve more than he wanted Todd. Staying together back in the bad old days of witch hunts would have put that at risk, and beyond that John knew how much it'd have hurt Todd to try to hide things for longer. It was an incredible relief when Todd was understanding and admitted he'd always known which way John would go. They parted friends and kept in touch. Todd's an engineer now, a rather good one in fact, and from time to time John's considered asking Radek to invite him to the program. He hasn't done it yet, though, and now it would be really, really awkward to try to explain to Todd, and for that matter everyone else, why he named a Wraith after him.

3) Nancy Collins

John met Nancy while they were in grad school. He was finishing up his masters in aeronautical engineering, she was doing something in criminal psychology, and he literally hadn't seen her coming and ran into her in the library. They ended up talking; talking led to dinner, and dinner lead to him taking her home. It wasn't the first time he'd been attracted to a woman, but it was the first time he thought that he might find something more from one than a quick lay. Nancy was smart, witty, funny, kind, all the things he wanted in a partner. It took less than five months before he was taking her home, first to his dad and then to his mom, and shortly after than he found himself at the altar.

John's not sure what he was thinking when he proposed, really. Maybe he wanted to finally find someone that would please both his parents - certainly his father was be thrilled with anyone who wasn't male, let alone someone as smart and charming as Nancy. Maybe he was getting tired to having to make up stories for the guys in his unit. Maybe he genuinely loved her at the time and thought it'd be enough. All he knows is that after about six months of marital bliss, they started to drift apart. His time overseas flying medevac and other less speakable things didn't help, but even when he was in the states things continued to spiral downhill. It wasn't acrimonious or anything like that, there were no huge fights, but long silences instead. They stopped having sex, and from there the marriage went into an uncontrolled dive. When he found himself not just looking at other guys but wanting them, John put his foot down and told her that he couldn't do it anymore.

They separated, although they marriage didn't actually end until Nancy met the new guy - Gary? - and John was about to be deployed to Afghanistan. It was convenient for both of them to stay married, which maybe summed up all the things that were wrong about it in the first place. John's always been glad that their marriage didn't end explosively like those of many of his colleagues. Nancy never deserved that kind of pain and trouble, and he's glad she's happy now.

4) Tim Holland

John wished he'd found to nerve to tell Holland that he was turning into more than just a fuck buddy before it was too late. There was some small satisfaction in the way the dying man had smiled when he finally did say it, though.

5) Rodney McKay

John's loved Rodney since about the time he let John shove him off a balcony. John didn't say anything about it then, but they soon fell into a comfortable pattern of playful bickering interspersed with occasional bouts of "thank god we're alive" or "screwy alien ritual" sex. They were just two friends with some benefits, never mind that they were closer to each other than John had ever been with someone else. John kept any extra feelings safely locked away where they wouldn't bother anyone, not trusting himself not to make a mess of any attempt to see if Rodney might feel the same way. During that first panic-filled year he was already barely hanging on, and he couldn't even think about what consequences a rejection might have for everyone.

It took until well into the second year for John to give an actual relationship a shot. They'd just gotten settled back into the city after that entire fucked-up disaster with Ford, and hearing what Rodney had done to try to save them touched something in John. After a few weeks of fretting, John asked Rodney on a date, and Rodney had agreed in a manner that could only be described as gleeful. As John would later tell Lorne and Parrish (or rather rant at them), he really should have recognized the warning signs and run for the nearest transporter.

Rodney the pal was great. However, John soon discovered that Rodney the boyfriend was insufferable. He worked long hours and refused to leave the labs no matter what they had scheduled, he outright ignored John's attempts to be romantic, disagreed with him about everything, and to top it off he blew John in the game room specifically to distract him from the stupid mine that he was building in John's territory. Not only that, but he was absolutely insatiable in bed -- and pretty much everywhere else. Rodney was hornier than an entire squad of marines, and apparently to him the word 'boyfriend' meant 'space slut slash sex slave'. Within a week John was so exhausted that he was all but falling asleep at his desk. Well, no, that was inaccurate - he was falling asleep on the office couch, because he couldn't sit on the hard chair at his desk.

The last straw came when Rodney blew off a date they'd had planned for a week. John had gone to the trouble of actually making dinner himself, and when Rodney 'forgot' about it and got caught up in a simulation anyone could have done, John threw in the towel and broke up with him. Maybe if they'd tried for longer they could have actually managed a stable relationship, but John had neither the stamina nor the patience for that. They went back to being friends and if anything were even closer than before. Also, who could have guessed that "we're not boyfriends anymore" sex could be so good?

There is one thing that John really regrets about loving Rodney, which is that time he managed to talk him and Evan into a threesome. "But the heat is off and we need to snuggle to share body warmth" had turned out to be a great excuse, but now he was paying for that one night of pleasure. Evan and Rodney hadn't been close before, but now John sees them in the mess from time to time, leaning in close and looking devious. Evan had long since taken to conspiring with Teyla, and it'd taken all of about two weeks after Teyla told them about The Baby Who's Name Is Neither Ronon Nor Rodney for Ronon to be whipped into joining their campaign. Adding in Rodney, and by extension Radek, only made their combined powers even more unstoppable. It probably won't be long before the entire command staff has joined the stupid Crusade To Save John From Himself, and then he'll be really fucked.

6) Atlantis

It sounds absurd and more than a little fucked up, but John loves the city. Little things like the way the lights in the shower glow pink sometimes or the way circuits in the wall hum when he runs his hand along them than make him think the feeling's mutual. It's only gotten more apparent after he kinda accidentally turned on the three million year old AI. It's really wonderful that it decided to make him a classic phaser pistol (which is totally better than Ronon's stupid blaster) but it still creeps him out from time to time. He's just glad that the city's not a jealous lover and adores Evan and all the other ATA-positive members of the expedition, even if it does play favorites some times.

However, John really, really didn't need to know how much the city likes Rodney's hands.

7) Evan Lorne

John only regrets a few things about falling in love with Evan Lorne. One is that they can't be openly together even though the President signed an executive order exempting Atlantis personnel from "Don't Ask, Don't Tell", because they're still subject to the fraternization regs. It's a small thing and he's used to it after twenty years in the Air Force, and he knows Evan is too. For the most part having to hide is an annoyance more than a burden. They can't spend the night together except on rare occasions, can't be more than casual friends in public, can't sit at each other's bedsides in the infirmary, can't do dozen other little things a couple should have been able to do. It's not nearly as bad as it could be, though, and the fact that all their friends know is a huge comfort. Still, there's a difference between acceptance and not minding. One reason John looks forward to the coming revolution is that when it happens he'll finally be able to share with the world just how much Evan means to him.

John regrets that some day he may be forced to order Evan to his death. They're not stupid or naive; they both know it could happen. They've even talked about it several times, usually with a little help from Zelenka's still or Parrish's special brownies. There's no doubt in John's mind that he would do it if he had to, and even though he knows Evan would never blame him there's a small part of John that hates himself for it. John's afraid of what losing Evan would do to him, but he takes a small comfort in knowing his team would be there for Evan if he was the one who died.

John never got a chance to introduce Evan to his dad, and while he never wanted to before now he finds himself wishing he had. The old man never approved of John being anything but perfectly straight. He thinks that it might have been different this time, though. Evan is exactly the kind of honest and dependable guy Dad liked, and he's pretty sure he would have come around once he met him. It's too late now because they were both too stubborn for their own good in the end, and John's incredibly glad that he was forced to take Evan home to meet Mom.

John's biggest regret has more to do with himself and his own hang-ups than with Evan. On their last trip to Earth together he discovered that Evan loves kids, and kids love him. Seeing him play with his nieces and nephews was possibly the most adorable and heartwarming thing John has ever seen. John should have known that would be the case, given his endless patience with young marines and his playful nature, but he hadn't connected the dots until then. John had taken one look at him and realized that Evan would be probably be the greatest dad in the history of great dads. What John regrets about it is that he knows he'll never measure up to that standard. It's not that he dislikes kids or anything, certainly not in the way Rodney pretends to. No, he loves kids, but he's always been worried that he'd end up breaking them somehow. Sure, Madison adores him, Jinto practically worshiped the ground John walked on, and Teyla's already made him some sort of official godfather and babysitter, but that's different than being a full-time dad. He had a hard enough time getting through his own childhood; God only knows how badly he'd screw up trying to raise someone. The poor kid would probably end up in therapy for life.

Still, he can tell Evan wants kids, even if he's never said as much, and while it terrifies him John's willing to give it a shot. They'll have to wait until either they're independent or Earth pulls the stick out its ass, of course, just like a dozen other couples. Once that happens one of the first things John intends to do is take Evan down to a room the city has shown him, one where the walls are lined with little tanks. He'll set aside his own fears because he knows it will make Evan happy, and if there's one thing about love that John's never regretted it's doing that.

Fic - Still Alive

Wed, 06 Feb 2008 05:10:14 GMT

Title: Still Alive (Ancient History Challenge)
Author: slybrarian
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: vaguely John/Atlantis
Words: 1770
Series: Dramatic Exit
Summary: System restart initiated at time 76,416,787,113,207 (Y-2,547,226.155 14:23:07) by user John.Sheppard (root account).
Author's notes: Beta by scifinut. Minor spoilers for the entire series.This ties in with a couple projects I'm currently working on, one of which also involves Ancient history. You should read it. [/shameless plug]

(This was a triumph. I'm making a note here: HUGE SUCCESS.)

Fic - Fall of Pegasus, Chapter 3

Mon, 04 Feb 2008 01:20:45 GMT

Title: Fall of Pegasus, Chapter 3 - Breakout
Author: slybrarian
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gen, for now
Words:4,436 for this chapter (10,260 total so far)
Summary: In which Iohannes has a very bad day
Author's notes: Beta by scifinut.Minor spoilers for the entire series.

Table of Contents

Chapter 3
Lantean Date 2,537,207.155 (8,583 BCE)

Iohannes stands on the balcony of the control room, gazing out across the city. It's the middle of a long night, and the towers shine in the darkness with a million lights. Beyond them is the shield, and beyond it plains on one side and a mountain ridge on the other. He doesn't turn as someone joins him at the railing and places her hand on his.

"It's time to go," Claria says softly. "We need you in the chair."

"I know, I'll be there in a minute," he replies, taking one last look. "I'll miss it here."

"As will I, but even good things must end sooner or later." She leaned close against him. "And think of what we can accomplish in our new home."

"Hopefully we'll do better than we did here," his lips turn up in a wry smile, "not that it would be difficult, given how --"

The floor seemed to leap up and Iohannes was thrown from his bed, landing in a tangle of sheets on the floor. It took him a few moments to extract himself and paw around for his uniform as alarms started to sound. He stumbled out into the corridor and started to race for the bridge, his crew running to their own stations, and in the back of his head he could hear the command datastream quietly murmuring damage control to section seven - all hands report to emergency positions - hull breaches, avoid deck eighteen through twenty-five aft of frame 271. Internal transport was offline, and so he was almost out of breath as he ran through the bridge hatch, nearly knocking over a technician rushing the other way.

"Report, commander," he said as he flung himself into the command chair. His board lit up and a moment later the control interface initialized. He gasped as it hit him like a punch to the stomach and his body ached in sympathy to his ship. It felt like he had a gaping hole in his gut and a dozen broken bones, and not only that he was half-blind. It took a few moments for him to shake it off and dial the interface down to a more manageable level. He opened his eyes again to find Laurentius at his side, eyes full of worry, and Iohannes shook his head. "Sorry. Hit me with it."

"We were struck by an energy blast from the surface, sir." Laurentius leaned over the command board and brought up the damage control display. "It hit us here, in the port aft quarter. Main power is down, and the port engines are not responding. Hyperdrives are offline, too. We do have limited shields, and I moved us out of the installation's line of sight."

"Good move." Iohannes glanced over his board again, then out the window at the planet below. "Was there a weapon test scheduled for today?"

"No, sir, not that I'm aware of." Laurentius grimaced, as if to silently remind him that it wouldn't be the first time the project staff had failed to notify them of what was going on. "There was an energy surge about a minute before we were hit, but we figured it was a power-up run. Then they pinged us with sensors and a second later we were hit."

"They had scan active?" That would explain why the blast had hit them instead of empty space. "I swear, if this is because of some sort of automated targeting system, I'm going to hurt someone." Iohannes thought for a moment, then turned his chair towards communications. "Lieutenant, call those idiots and get me the director on the channel. Tell them that if she doesn't feel like talking, I'll just return their little present in kind. Only, you know," he waved his hand vaguely, "say it more politely."

Lt. Versa nodded. "Seltenas Station, this is Pacificus. Captain Iohannes demands to speak with Director Taralaxma immediately. Seltenas Station, please respond."

Iohannes turned back to his XO. "Laurentius, have damage control concentrate on getting main power back."

"Yes, sir." Laurentius relayed the order, then shook his head ruefully. "Seven more days. They couldn't have waited seven more days."

"Someone probably thought it was funny," Iohannes grumbled. He wouldn't be responsible for what he did if this turned out to be some sort of prank gone wrong. "Casualties?"

"A few dozen injuries, and at least two confirmed deaths, sir. We've also got quite a few missing who were in the damaged area. Internal sensors aren't showing many inside, but they're functioning pretty sporadically in there." Laurentius didn't sound too hopeful, and given the size of the hole in their side, it was likely that anyone who survived the initial blast and secondary explosions probably died when the section decompressed. There could be still be a few sealed compartments inside.

"Have search teams move in with hand scanners. I want every inch checked over for survivors."

"Already underway, sir. It's going slow, though, because of radiation leaks from the damaged engines."

Iohanned frowned and nodded. That was to be expected if the engines were hit. "Prep a couple of gateships for launch. We can have them inspect the damage from outside and use their sensors to guide the search teams."

"Sir, I'm not getting any response from the surface," Versa reported.

"Maybe they've got a bigger problem than we-" Laurentius started to say, but he was cut off by Lt. Kelto at scan.

"Sensor contacts! Three sensor contacts, bearing dead astern, rising from the surface." Kelto ran his hands across several controls to get more detail, then continued, "Two escort-class vessels and – fuck me, that's a big ship."

"The Wraith," Iohannes softly said. "Combat stations. Helm, bring us about. Comms, inform sector command that we're under attack and require assistance."

The wounded ship slowly swung around to face the three warships that were slowly climbing up out of the gravity well. In the enhanced view through the forward window they could soon see the dark triangular shapes against the bright background of the planet below, the two cruisers dwarfed by the massive hiveship. Iohannes studied the sensor readouts of the ships, quickly noting the power building up in their reactors. Their weapons didn't seem to be armed quite yet, which meant all that power had going somewhere else.

"All divisions are at combat readiness, sir," Laurentius reported from his station. "With this much engine damage we won't be able to get much power to weapons."

"I know, I know. Put what you can get into the drones," Iohannes said. While the drones lacked the brute force of the main energy cannons, they were by far the most flexible weapon in the ship's arsenal, and used correctly even a few could punch straight through a ship's shields and hull to hit critical systems. The Wraith ships had almost cleared the atmosphere and had turned slightly to head directly away from their pursuer. As far as he could tell, they seemed to be ignoring Pacificus entirely, and at the rate they were starting to accelerate now they'd soon be easily outrunning the ship. "Gunnery. Target their hyperdrives and open fire."

Pacificus started to spit glowing squid-like projectiles from the forward drone bay. It could only manage to launch one or two at a time, barely more than a gateship was capable of firing and a pitiful showing for a cruiser. One after another the drones slammed into the rears of the fleeing Wraith ships, starting to burrow in and then detonating as their energy reserves dropped below a preset minimal yield. Iohnannes frowned as explosions blossomed on the targets' hulls. Something was clearly wrong because they shouldn't have been visible on the exterior.

"Are we even hitting their drives?" he asked.

"Ah, doesn't seem like it, sir," Lt. Kelto reported. "The drones are not making it far inside."

"Damn it," Iohannes muttered, eyes locked to the screen as the Wraith were hit again and again. He'd known the Wraith ships had only minimal shielding, but apparently they made up for it with other protections built into the hulls. After what seemed like an eternity but couldn't have possibly been more than a minute, the scans finally showed the hyperdrives of all three ships flickering and then dying out. He sank back into his chair with relief and satisfaction. He knew it was mostly luck and the time it took to cold-start a hyperdrive for ships those size that had kept them from escaping already, but that was good enough for him.

"Comms, open a channel." He waited for a moment, then said, "Wraith vessels - assuming that you guys are Wraith, and not some idiots who thought it'd be fun to steal some experimental ships - this is Captain Iohannes of the Lantean Monitor Corps. Your drives are disabled, and while together you might be able to take on this ship, I very much doubt you'll be able to make repairs before another cruiser arrives and blows you out of the sky. How about you surrender now and save everyone a lot of grief?"

On the screens, the Wraith ships began to turn about and several readouts started to climb. Quietly, Kelto reported, "Energy spikes in multiple locations. They're charging weapons and opening gunports."

"Look, I'm sure that this is all just a big misunderstanding of some sort. Why don't we all just power down our weapons and talk things through? I am willing to guarantee your safety if you stand down and negotiate." Iohannes wasn't about to start his day off by committing genocide if he could avoid it, and getting vaporized also wasn't on the agenda. There was no reply, and Iohannes muted the channel with a swipe of his hand before spinning around. "How long until we get power back up?"

"At least ten minutes is the current estimate, sir," Laurentius replied. "Assuming we don't take more damage."

"Damn it." Iohannes shook his head. They wouldn't last long taking on three ships in their current state, and they couldn't even try to run and hide with the engines damaged. "Prepare to launch all gateships to cover us."

"Port bay is out of commission, sir, but I'll see what I can scramble from starboard."

Iohannes continued to watch the screen while his crew worked around him, trying to think of a way out of their situation. They managed to launch five gateships, all standard transport models as opposed to combat ships, and not even half as many as they could have normally. A few thousand millia away, the Wraith ships were still just sitting there ominously, neither moving to escape or come closer. Several minutes dragged by before Iohannes sighed and turned the channel back on. "So, uh. Is this a yes or a no to the negotiating thing?"

A second later he regretted those word, because brilliant blue bolts started to splatter across the ship's shields. The bridge widow automatically darkened to keep out the glare as more than one shot struck home just outside it. Dull thumps could be heard echoing through the hull, accompanied by flickers in the lights and displays. That was a testament to just how weakened the ship already was, because he'd flown ships between fleets without so much as a shudder more than once. In one corner of his eye he could see the shield strength dropping steadily, and he knew it was only a matter of minutes before they started to fail completely.

"Divert all engine power to the forward shields," he ordered. "Gunnery and gateships, target the port cruiser. Try to disable it, then move on to the second one."

The cruisers had to be more vulnerable to fire, given their significantly smaller size, but devoted much more mass proportionately to weapons than the hive, and by knocking them out he hoped they'd take down more enemy guns in a short time. Pacificus turned its few drones on the cruiser and the gateships dove across the gap while launching their own. Dozens of the missiles hit home simultaneously, shattering hull plates and exploding weapons and other external systems. Iohannes grinned as the enemy ship started to list due to misfiring engines, but that grin disappeared a moment later when another explosion occurred. One of his own pilots had turned left where she should have dodged right, and her ship had been vaporized outright by return fire. The survivors continued to attack, more careful with their limited ammunition now and seeking out exposed targets. It took barely a minute before the Wraith ship was completely dead in the air. Of one Pacificus's drones struck a reactor and suddenly the entire ship exploded, nearly taking the surrounding gateships with it.

"Switch targets!" Iohannes ordered. The incoming fire slackened, but not enough, and the remaining Wraith ships continued to tear into them. Shield strength dropped lower and lower, until they were forced to start reinforcing essential coverage at the expense of the less vital areas and energy started to leak through to reach the hull. The entire ship rocked as one bolt from the hiveship found a weak spot and burned a long gash across the ship's bow.

"Hull breach, decks eight and nine forward. Pressure door sealed," Laurentius reported, as cool and collected as ever. There was another hit and another, and while the second cruiser was badly wounded and spinning on its axis to protect its damaged side, Iohannes could tell they wouldn't last much longer. His mind raced through the options left to them, how long it would take their nearest relief to reach them, what might happen to lifepods in those hours. Iohannes tensed in his chair and took helm control so he could aim Pacificus at the hiveship and bring engines back on. That done, he took a breath to order his crew to abandon ship.

Main power came back online.

It was a lightning bolt up along his spine, and even as Laurentius started to say, "Sir, we've got-" Iohannes shouted "All batteries, fire!"

The starboard energy cannon turned on the cruiser and the gateships around it scattered in all directions. A moment later the ship literally dissolved under a hail of fire. The hiveship faired no better because a torrent of drones poured forth and began to swarm around and through it, piercing it from all sides again and again until it started to break apart from hundreds of internal explosions culminating with a final blast that turned most of the ship into vapor.

"Scan shows clear, sir," Kelto reported quietly. Tension flowed out of Iohannes' body as he double-checked the sensors and saw nothing but scattered debris.

"Laurentius. Order the gateships to return and rearm. Then have Lieutenant Aggates assemble his strike teams and meet me in the hangar. We're going to --" He halted mid-sentence as a thought hit him. "Something's not right. Where are their fighters? They should have had at least two dozen of the things."

Kelto shook his head. "No sign of any other ships, sir. They could still be on the surface."

"Where's the gate?" Iohannes asked, already knowing the answer.

"It went under the horizon about five minutes ago, sir."

"Shit," Laurentius muttered. "Right when they opened fire."

"This was all a distraction. Get us back there. All ships return to the gate." Pacificus ponderously turned and began to accelerate, still limping with half its sublight engines down. The gateships swept ahead of it, and seconds later they were swinging around the planet. The pinpoint brilliance of an active wormhole was immediately apparent as it came into view, as was the line of ships sliding through it one after another. Iohannes didn't even have time to order gunnery to fire before the last dart was clear and the gate disengaged.

"Have the gateships download the last address from the gate and pursue." He stopped, considered the odds, then recanted. "No, belay that. They are to dial that address and maintain a wormhole as long as possible."

"Aye, sir." The gateships moved in, and shortly after the commander reported, "Sir, that destination will not lock."

"Keep trying, and contact the nearest ship to investigate that planet." Iohannes knew it was probably too late, than the inability to dial in meant the other gate was already engaged. He forced himself to stand. "Laurentius, you have the ship. Continue with damage control as best you can, but do not lower the shields unless necessary. I'll be on the surface."

"Aye, sir." Laurentius moved to take his place at the command chair, and as he passed he quietly said, "Be careful, Iohannes."

Iohannes grinned back at him. "I'm always careful."

Twenty minutes later he was leading one of the ship's ground strike team through the halls of the research facility. The transport jammers were still active, and so they had been forced to come down in the gateships. The ship's sensors and a close pass on approach had already confirmed there were no remaining Wraith ships on the ground, but Iohannes still disliked the idea of being trapped down here when the enemy might show up again. Then again, he disliked being down there at all. He was a pilot, had been flying for as long as he could remember, and being stuck on the ground was uncomfortable. The eerie silence wasn't helping things, either. They hadn't seen a single person since they had touched down, and there was little sign that anything was wrong before they turned one corner near the labs and saw a pair of bodies on the floor.

Iohannes started towards them with his sidearm extended, but to his annoyance two soldiers brushed past him and lead the way. When they got closer it became more obvious what had happened. One soldier turned around, face green, while Iohannes knelt down beside the dessicated corpses.

"Looks like they can feed on more than humans after all," he muttered. It was obvious that they were dead and the bodies damaged far beyond the help of even the most advanced technology or skilled healer.

"Captain, Aggates here. We've reached the living area and have a lot of bodies here. They look like... hell, I don't know, like they shriveled up or something."

"Same here. Keep sweeping the facility, I'm heading for administration and the security office." He stood up and nodded to his men, and they started down the corridor again. They found nothing but bodies, and while there were signs of a struggle in some places, it was clear the scientists hadn't managed to put up much of a fight. They found a single Wraith soldier drone, apparently cut in half by a laser cutter held by another nearby corpse. Shortly afterwards they were nearing the offices when the lead man signaled for them to stop and gestured toward his scanner. Iohannes pulled his own and saw a few dots inside a storage room next to them. He tried the door controls but it refused to open.

"Hey, anyone in there?" he shouted, pounding on the door. "We're from Pacificus!" There was no reply, and when the door stayed sealed he turned to one of the team. "Specialist. Open it."

"Aye, sir." The slim woman holstered her weapon and stepped forward. Her face tightened with concentration for a few seconds, then she tilted her head slightly and the doors were wrenched apart by an unseen force. The specialist staggered back and took a deep breath, while from inside there was screaming.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay," Iohannes said, stepping through the threshold slowly with his hands held high. There was a small group of people huddled together. After a moment, one woman staggered to her feet.

"You're Lantean," she whispered. She flung herself forward and the soldiers raised their rifles, but she only wrapped her arms around Iohannes and squeezed him tight. Awkwardly he hugged her in return and patted her back. "Thank the ascended, you're Lantean."

"You're safe, you're going to be fine," he said, trying to comfort her. As the others stood up as well, he asked, "What happened?"

"I don't know," a young man he vaguely recognized as one of the director's aides told him. "We, uh. We were going to be purging the current test subjects this afternoon, only, I don't know what happened. There was all this screaming, and we locked ourselves in here. That's all I know. I mean, we didn't have any weapons and there was stunner fire getting closer, so we hid in here and sealed the door. We could hear them going past us outside and, and..."

The man trailed off, and John extracted himself from the woman's grasp. "Hey, you all did right thing. You survived and that's what's important. Now, we're going to take you back to the landing pad and up to my ship, you'll be safe there. That sound okay?"

With a bit of cajoling the civilians were lead out of the storage room and down to the entrance, avoiding the areas where bodies had been found on the way. Iohannes stayed on the surface for a few hours more, but they didn't find any more survivors. Six people out of a staff of three hundred and a giant hole in his ship - Iohannes didn't have a clue what godlike entity he had offended, but he definitely wasn't looking forward to his next performance review.

-------

Two days later the cruiser Syrtes arrived to relieve them, escorting the construction ship Stablis. Iohannes and his crew had done the best they could to effect repairs, but there was only so much they could do with the resources on site, especially when they were missing a huge chunk of the port engine assembly and the rest of the drive section wasn't much better off. Iohannes had just escaping from a long and painful briefing with Captain Kaltia where she'd proceeded to pick apart every single thing he had done wrong, made even worse by the way she'd relented at the end and told him he'd done 'as well as could be expected.' He wasn't sure if she really meant that, or if she was just damning him with faint praise. As he headed down the corridor to his quarters for a quick nap, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Hey! Stop! No, not you, him." Iohannes slowly turned around, not quite believing his ears, and saw a man in civilian clothes stalking down the corridor. He took in the slim build, blue eyes, and scruffy hair and despite knowing he was about to get yelled at even more he grinned broadly.

"Morning, Marius," Iohannes said to his oldest friend once they were withing polite speaking distance. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think I'm doing here?" Marius snapped as he stopped in front of Iohannes. "I'm fixing your stupid ship. In case you didn't notice, it's broken."

Iohannes shrugged like it was nothing. "She's only got a little dent, you can hardly see it."

"There's a twenty-pasus hole in it! I could fly a gateship almost to the engine room!" Iohannes had to duck back to avoid getting smacked in the nose as Marius waved his hands about to demonstrate just how big the hole was. "You're missing the entire port hyperdrive and the starboard one is fried too, and don't even get me started on the sublights."

"Eh, like I said, just a flesh wound."

"You could have been vaporized!" Marius scowled and crossed his arms. "I couldn't believe those idiots you call engineers brought up the reactors up to full power after the engines were trashed, either, and it's a miracle that patchwork they did on the conduits didn't go up like a bomb."

"We were getting shot at and kinda needed the energy," Iohannes pointed out.

"Yes, well, that's another thing. You're not supposed to be getting shot at and having your ship nearly blow up." Marius emphasized the last two words by poking Iohannes in the chest.

Iohannes sighed and rolled his eyes. "It goes with the job. I've told you that how many times?"

"Goes with the job. Yeah, right. Do you know how many years it's been since a cruiser sustained this kind of damage? Two hundred and twenty, and that was after it was attacked by an entire fleet. I looked it up."

"Speaking of damage, how long it going to take to fix?" Iohannes asked, as much to steer the conversation in a different direction as genuine interest. He really did not need a lecture on safety and an impromptu lesson in military history.

"Oh. Well, we're swapping out the starboard hyperdrive for a spare and checking out the remaining sublights," Marius said, successfully distracted by the more interesting subject of work. "Then we're going to dump a load of naquadah and trinium into the hole then toss some assembler micromachines in to patch up all the structural damage and repair all the system conduits. You'll need a proper dockyard to bring all the port engines back up, though, but this should get you there safely enough."

"That's good to hear," Iohannes replied with a nod, happy to hear that there wouldn't be any serious delays in leaving. He decided to preempt any further work-related discussion and asked, "You hungry?"

"I could eat," Marius said after a moment, although he looked suspicious. Iohannes grinned and started for the mess, glad for a chance to relax after the last few days and a chance to catch up after months away from home.

---------

Sixty thousand lightyears away, the Queen studied the countless stars in an unfamiliar sky and smiled.

Fic - I Blame Your Parents

Mon, 28 Jan 2008 02:59:03 GMT

Title: I Blame Your Parents
Author: slybrarian
Rating: R
Pairing: Lorne/Sheppard
Word Count: 12,317
Series: Dramatic Exit
Author's notes: Future-fic, and AU diverging sometime in S4. Beta by archae_ology. This is my longest fic ever and still a bit rough on the pacing, but if I don't stop fiddling it'll never get posted.

Summary: A visit to Earth results in a few surprises for Sheppard and Lorne.

"Can we leave yet?" John asked for the seventeenth time, just for the pleasure of watching Evan roll his eyes. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do, after all.

"Ten more minutes, sir," Evan said, before going back to signing things on his tablet. John waited impatiently for a few minutes, then asked, "How about now?"

"You're like a little kid," Evan complained half-heartedly. "Seriously, it was just one day. You've spent longer in jail cells that weren't nearly as comfortable."

John snorted. Midway may as well have been a big jail, and in John's opinion whoever had come up with the quarantine idea for Midway deserved to be shot. The fact that neither of them had the slightest clue why O'Neill had summoned them back to Earth for a week only made the stay more difficult. "Yeah, well, at least then I wasn't locked up with you."

Evan didn't even look up when he raised an eyebrow. "What about that time when-"

"Locked up and unable to touch you," John corrected plaintively, knowing he was whining just a little, "on account of being trapped in a tin can with a dozen other people."

"I can't imagine why you'd want to touch me, Colonel," Evan replied, putting a little extra emphasis on the title.

John grinned deviously and leaned in closer, so he could say right into Evan's ear, "Well, there's that thing you do with your tongue, for one." He grinned to himself when a shiver managed to get through Evan's placid shell. As far as John was concerned, if he couldn't actually touch his lover, poking at him was the next best thing.

Evan stood, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face, and said, "Come on, sir. Time to head out."

The two of them strolled out of the tiny cabin and out to Midway Station's main chamber. Even one day aboard for quarantine was about twenty-three hours too long for John's tastes, and having Evan along had actually made the wait even worse than usual. Sure, they'd shared a cabin, but the bunks were even smaller than the bed he had back home. Normally that might not have stopped them, but the walls may as well have been paper-thin. Evan could be absolutely silent when he had to be, but John had an unfortunate tendency to be noisy at inopportune times. Hopefully, whatever they were being called back to Earth for would be worth the trouble.

When John, Evan, and a dozen other Earth-bound personnel stepped through the wormhole, General O'Neill was waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp. "Colonel. Major. Pleasant trip?"

"Yes, sir," Evan replied, while John told him, "The accommodations leave a little desired."

"I'm sorry it's not up to your standards, Colonel," O'Neill replied. He waved them along as he started for the door. "Come on, we've got some stuff to talk about."

O'Neill led them out of the gateroom and into the warren of tunnels that made up the SGC. Looking around at the drab concrete walls, John had to suppress a shiver. The base held nothing but bad memories for him, and he couldn't help but imagine the weight of the mountain pressing down all around him. John thought there was probably something poetic about that connection. Finally, they reached a small, obviously temporary office down in the soft sciences section, and O'Neill gestured for them to sit while dropping into his own chair.

"Well, gentlemen, there's good news and bad news," he said once they were settled.

"We'll take the bad news first," John responded with a glance toward Evan, who gave him one in return. He was already starting to think of what sort of bat-shit ideas the Pentagon, or worse yet the IOA, might have come up with this time.

"Did I say there was a choice?" John shrugged, and after giving him a pointed look O'Neill continued. "The President and the other IOA leaders have been talking recently about the possibility of disclosure to the public. It's getting harder to keep concealing the program, especially as the new shipyards become operational, and the idea is that it'd be better to reveal it in a controlled fashion then have CNN catch a cruiser on camera. It's looking like they're going to settle for sometime around the New Year, which means we've got about six months to prepare."

John and Evan looked at each other again, then John asked, "Is that the good news or the bad news?"

"That's the neutral news. Can I finish?" O'Neill replied caustically. After a moment, he said, "The good news is that we'll be looking at a lot of funding, and a lot more manpower. There'll be the usual growing pains that come with that, of course, but we've got a solid cadre to build off of. Since we want to make sure anyone essential has appropriate seniority, the president has given us special authorization to give early promotions or brevets for anyone who needs them."

"Anyone?" John asked, sitting up a little straighter and not quite believing what he was hearing.

"Within reason, and mostly from the current crop of junior officers and the enlisted. I've already got a list of field-grade officers for this first round of promotions - Reynolds, Caldwell, Davis, a few other SG team leaders and base staff. I'll need recommendations for what to do with your guys."

John deflated slightly, because if O'Neill was picking the senior officers himself, that left off one person John would have put on the list. Still, it was good news. The SGC had long since been forced to deviate from normal promotion procedures, with drastic stop-loss measures in effect. The constant need for experienced staff meant up-or-out was out of the question, and transfers away from the program for anyone competent simply didn't happen. Still, Atlantis was even odder, and its distant position meant that a lot of times the decision-makers on Earth didn't give people the recognition they deserved.

Beside him, Evan was nodding slowly, probably thinking the same thing. "I can think of a few dozen people who definitely deserve it. Are we talking just the Americans, or the international staff, too?"

"Eh, shouldn't be too hard to swing for the rest, if you want," O'Neill said with a shrug. "I'm sure their governments will want to keep the status quo."

"You said more manpower, right?" John was starting to get a gleam in his eyes, the sort usually associated with young boys in toy stores. They'd been barely keeping up with replacements for men they lost or who transferred home. Some of that was John and Evan's own pickiness when they screened them, because the last thing they needed were troublemakers, but he'd give a lot to get more than the occasional handful of inexperienced troops. "Enough marines or soldiers to form actual battalion instead of a miniature one - or better yet, enough for two. Trained pilots. Paratroopers! Oh - SEALs, with some of those cool little boats."

Evan shot John one of his 'please shut up, sir' looks, then asked O'Neill, "Before the colonel gets ahead of himself, I have the feeling that I should ask what the bad news is."

"Good idea," O'Neill replied with a slight smirk that told John he was about to hear something he wouldn't like. "See, the thing is that when I said there's a lot of new funding and manpower, I didn't mean you were getting any of it. The SGC is expanding enough that we're taking over the rest of the mountain, and a few other Homeworld Security projects are benefiting, but the majority of it is going to - god help us - the Navy's new starship program. We'll be sending a few green troops your way, but not another company, and not many SGC vets."

John sat back and groaned. He really should have known better than to get excited. "Of course. No one cares about us, all alone out there, holding the line against the darkness, all that keeps Earth from being a fast-food joint."

"Yeah, that seems pretty accurate," O'Neill said cheerfully. "Fact is, Atlantis is far away and doesn't have as much a direct impact on Earth's security as operations in this galaxy. People can't see you, but they can see big, shiny battle cruisers."

"We fight the Wraith, that's security," John protested. He didn't have anything against battle cruisers - far from it- but this was absurd. "And didn't we just cure cancer?"

"I'm sure people will thank you, once the cure stops killing people." O'Neill spread his hands in a 'what can you do' gesture. "Look, the president and I appreciate what you're doing, but the fact of the matter is there's just not room in the budget for major troop increases. If you've got any specific requests, I'll see what I can do."

"People with the gene. Everyone who you can get, civilian or military," John said, deciding to focus on the most vital points in the hopes that he could at least guilt that much out of the general.

O'Neill got a skeptical expression, but before he object Evan continued for him, "You don't need nearly as many as we do, and there's always going to be people who won't volunteer to go out to Pegasus under any circumstances. Just bring it up with anyone who might be willing to give it a shot, maybe send them our way for a week or two to convince them."

John nodded in agreement. "Just a couple of days, even." That, in John's experience, was all the time that anyone ATA-positive needed to decide.

"Hmph." O'Neill looked thoughtful, then shrugged. "Fine. It's doable, especially if they're replacing people coming back to Earth. Anything else?"

John hesitated, and decided to take a chance in case an opportunity like this never came along again. "Along the same lines, the expedition needs a formal exemption from 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell.'"

Evan didn't quite manage to suppress a surprised and dismayed exclamation of, "Damn it, John", while O'Neill just raised an eyebrow.

"Look, it's unfair to have different rules for US and the international troops, and we all saw how well the informal policy worked when Ellis got pissy." John went for broke and added, "Besides, if we actually enforced it, we'd lose everyone with the gene, and that would just be disastrous."

That certainly got O'Neill's attention. Watching John like a hawk, he leaned forward and drawled, "Oh really."

John swallowed. "Doctor Beckett found a strong correlation between the natural ATA gene and bisexuality, and lesser one among those with it recessively. Which, given that we've always selected for the recessive so the gene therapy is more likely to work, means a lot of the city's population."

"Researched it, did he?" O'Neill asked in a conversational tone.

"He didn't share it outside the command staff, for obvious reasons. Sir."

O'Neill's face was expressionless as he stared at John and tapped his fingers on the desk. As the silence dragged on, John started to wonder if he'd made a horrible mistake in bringing it up. He'd expected O'Neill to say no, at worst - after all, he'd found out about John and Evan months before - but given that John had basically implied O'Neill was bi... most older military men wouldn't take that well, to put things mildly. John started to come up with an apology, and prayed that the situation was salvageable.

"I'll talk with Hayes," O'Neill suddenly said, tipping back in his chair. "I know Weir had brought it up before, and her ideas still have a lot of sway with him. But no promises."

John relaxed and nodded. "Thank you, sir, that's all I'm asking."

"Any other demands?" John and Evan looked at each other but after a moment shook their heads. John didn't want to push his luck, and he suspected he'd be lucky if Evan didn't kick his ass for trying even this much. "Good. I know it's not much, but it could be worse. Just keep your heads down and we'll see where things stand."

"It's probably better this way," Evan said after a moment. "Less attention means less interference. No offense, sir, but the last time the SGC brass got a scheme in their heads, we lost Doctor Weir and six others, not to mention all the damage to the city."

"I don't blame you. I'll tell you right now, I think you guys and Carter are doing a good job, and the last thing I want is for some senator to try and shove his pet general on you. For now, it's easy enough to keep her in charge, but I'll feel a lot better once she's got enough time experience under her belt to justify a promotion."

Grudgingly, John accepted that. He knew exactly how bad that sort of politics could be, and one of the reasons they'd succeeded as well as they had was the relatively low level of meddling from above. If some Pentagon hotshot was put in command, a lot of damage could be done, both to the mission and to the lives of a lot of his men. "So is there any more than that we will be getting?"

O'Neill thought about it for a moment, then said, "Nope."

"I guess we'll make do, then." It was what they'd been doing anyways, and when you got down to it, at least green troops didn't take as much retraining to get them used to working in Pegasus. One other bright side John could think of was easier contact with families, which would make a lot of people happier, at least among those who actually had families on Earth. "Anything else you need, sir, or should we get to work?"

"I need a word with you in private, Colonel. Lorne, while you're waiting, go see Major Nagly. She's taking issue with the concept of underwear-eating moss and would like a word with you." Evan winced and nodded, before leaving with a quick grin to John.

After the door closed, John waited for O'Neill to go on, but when he just stared back John eventually said, "So... about those promotions for field-grade officers."

"Wondering what kind of chances Atlantis' pair have?"

"Not about me, no." John grinned and dipped his head to the side. "Even if I had time in grade, I think you made it pretty clear back in November what my prospects are anytime soon."

O'Neill raised his eyebrow. "Good to know. As for Lorne, he was up for one anyways. Official paperwork actually just cleared the promotion board. I figured you might want to tell him yourself."

John shifted in his chair and despite his best efforts he felt himself starting to blush. "Listen, sir, I want you to know-"

"Can it. I really don't care whether it's some alien-induced bond or sappy true love." O'Neill's expression was hard, although there seemed to be a trace of amusement in his eyes. "You're both doing your jobs and keeping your thing out of your professional lives. As far as I'm concerned, that's all that I need to know."

"Thank you, sir," John said, relieved not only to hear that but that he wouldn't have to talk about it any further.

"Now, with regard to you..." O'Neill leaned back in his chair and paused dramatically before finishing, "You get one, too. Landry's not too happy with me, and you're lucky it was Carter writing your performance review this time. That meant it didn't include words like 'insubordination' and 'treason', but does have things like 'heroic' and 'deserves a pile of commendations.' Normally I'd still let you stew for a while, but I can't afford that luxury right now. On the other hand, I do get to watch a bunch of Pentagon desk jockeys sputter, so there's at least a little consolation. You'll also both be doing Air War College by correspondence. Unusual, but since the entire point of all this is to keep you where you are, I'm not about to pull you to take some classes."

O'Neill crossed his arms as he waited for a reaction. John's eyes were wide as he stammered out, "Sir. I, I don't know what to say."

"Whatever. Just don't do anything to make me think I've misplaced my faith, or you're going to regret it. Now scram. I'll see you in the morning."

John stood up, his spine straight. "Yes, sir, Thank you, sir. You won't regret this." O'Neill rolled his eyes and waved him towards the door. John walked out and carefully closed the door behind him, then managed to walk down the corridor and around a bend before shouting, "Yes!" and breaking into a run to find Evan.

==========

Evan shook his head as he headed to the quartermaster's office. He honestly didn't see what was so improbable about a plant with a taste for dirty socks and underwear, and yet apparently it was too much to ask for the SGC to cover some replacements. He'd have to make sure he talked with Siler and Harriman before he left, because he'd be damned if he got stuck wearing plain cotton briefs the next time some spear-wielding barbarians thought it'd be funny to strip his team.

"Ah, Major Lorne, just the man I wanted to see." Evan turned around and saw General Landry leaning out of his office.

"Afternoon, sir," he said with a polite nod. He hoped Landry hadn't decided to take the opportunity to complain about something, because after John had nearly given him a heart attack, the last thing Evan felt like doing was deal with a pissy general.

"So, heard the good news yet?"

"General O'Neill was just briefing us. It sounds like life will be interesting. Well, more so than normal."

"Isn't that the truth. Come in for a minute." Evan stepped into the office and Landry waved him into a chair. "I was wondering how things were going on Atlantis. Colonel Carter settling in well?"

"As well as could be expected, sir," Evan said slowly, wondering where the general was going. "There've been a few rough spots here and there, but it's just been a matter of getting adjusted on both sides."

"Even for Colonel Sheppard? I can't imagine he's happy having closer supervision from a senior officer."

Ah. It was going to be one of those conversations, then. "He wasn't pleased at first, but he's gotten used to it, I think. He took Doctor Weir's loss pretty hard, especially after it was confirmed she was dead. Twice. But over all, the transition went smooth."

"Good, good." Landry was smiling and his tone was friendly, but Evan knew better than to be fooled. He was up to something. "I'll have to admit, I was a bit worried he'd have trouble adjusting and start being even more of a loose cannon than before."

"No, sir, he's not acting any different then he did with Doctor Weir." That wasn't quite true, but Evan wasn't going to discuss the crimp the changeover had put in their sex life with Landry any time soon. "I think he respects Colonel Carter's field experience and appreciates the fact that he's still in charge of military operations."

"I was hoping that'd be the case," Landry said, seeming satisfied with that answer. "And you haven't spotted any unusual activity on the part of him or his team, any blatant violations of regulations?"

"Not unless you count the still or what botany's growing in greenhouse two, sir, but the colonel doesn't have anything to do with that." Evan sat up a little straighter and put on his best pensive look. "Sir, I have to say again, I'm not entirely comfortable with the assignment you gave me. It doesn't feel right to be watching a superior, and for that matter a friend, like I'm some sort political officer."

"And I wouldn't trust you if you did, son," Landry replied with a nod and a broad smile. "But it's for his own good. His heart in the right place and God knows he's one of the bravest men I know, but left to his own devices the man's a menace to himself and everyone around him. With disclosure coming, we can't afford to have him pulling any stunts right now."

"I understand, sir, and if he ever does pose a threat to the city, I'll notify Colonel Carter or you immediately." Evan chose his words carefully, not wanting to lie outright. He really would notify them if John was ever a genuine danger, but he suspected their definitions of the word were different. His, for example, didn't include the words 'conspiracy' or 'rebellion.'

"That's all that I ask, Major." Landry checked his watch, then said, "I've got a briefing with SG-6, and I'm sure you've got work to do. It was good talking with you. Oh, and if I don't catch you before you gate out again, congratulations."

"Ah, thank you, sir." Evan shrugged and sighed as he walked down the corridor. Landry was a good leader, and usually he was as fair and friendly as any other general officer, but sometimes he had a temper, and when he decided to hold a grudge it was a truly amazing thing to watch. John's stunt seven months prior had made Landry completely furious - Evan still remember the way the general's face had been almost purple when he'd returned from a mission, and the several hours spent in the brig before Landry cooled down enough for Dr. Jackson to convince him that Evan couldn't have been involved - and the entire disobeying orders thing had stuck with him. Evan kept hoping the general would let it go, especially after John had saved the city and possibly the world again, but by all appearances it wasn't being dropped anytime soon. At least being Landry's personal informant made it easier to insure any news sent back matched the creatively edited official reports.

"Lorne!"

Evan turned around to see John running up with a broad smile. Apparently, his chat with a general had gone better than Evan's. "Sir?"

"Come on, we're leaving early. You and I are going to find the best restaurant in town and celebrate."

Evan raised an eyebrow. Apparently, it had gone much better. "More good news, I take it?"

"Promotions. Both of us." John started to drag him towards the elevator, and after a moment of surprise Evan started to hurry along with him.

"Really? That's great!" After a second's thought, he snickered and added, "I guess that explains why Landry's on the warpath again."

John flashed him a grin. "Oh? Did he want another report from his favorite commissar?"

"Da, comrade. He's worried that once we go public, you're going to do something horribly embarrassing. I can't imagine why." Beyond their horrible dark secret, that was, and Evan had never loved General O'Neill as much as he did at that moment. Maybe Evan could send him some kind of present. Athosian wine, maybe. No, a painting, maybe one of the city or Doctor Jackson. Maybe Doctor Jackson in the city, he'd gotten plenty of pictures to work off the last time he'd visited. Or should he do one of Colonel Carter? He'd never quite figured that one out. Safer to do both.

They entered the elevator and John leaned against the back wall, frowned when nothing happened, then remembered to hit the button. "I never expected this in a million years. Well, for me, I mean, not for you. I expected you to get one the instant you made time in grade, hell, everyone loves you. You're calm, you're reliable, you-"

"Don't disobey orders or go on random suicide missions that give his friends heart attacks," Evan interrupted, before John could start saying something he'd regret later. The only thing that would be worse than him getting emotional in an extremely awkward, if cute, manner would be him doing in while they were covered by the SGC's all-seeing, all-hearing surveillance system. "I know what you mean, sir."

"Right, right," John said sheepishly. "But five years ago, no one would have thought I'd ever get promoted again, let alone twice."

"I knew you would," Evan said, quiet, sincere, and meaning every word of it.

John looked at him, and his smiled turned a little softer. "I... thanks. Now come on, I've got plans."

Plans sounded fun to Evan.

------

They spent the next day in the SGC handing a few routine matters that always needed to be done in person - mostly the usual arguments over supply expenditures and scheduling downtime - before they got shipped off to Washington. Even if disclosure was months away, preparations were already under way at the Pentagon, with numerous generals and other high-ranking officers being briefed on the program so they'd be ready for the larger changes that would follow. Evan was quickly reminded that one reason why he loved Atlantis so much was that people there didn't have the usual military obsession with PowerPoint. No such luck in the Pentagon. Thankfully, they were down to the last meeting before the weekend, and it was only supposed to last an hour. The room was full of officers from different services, mostly majors and colonels.

"Afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard and this is Lieutenant-Colonel Elect Evan Lorne. First things first, this material is classified, so if you don't have ARGENT CRAWDAD clearance, you need to leave the room." No one got up, which Evan thought a nice change from the last meeting, when two different briefings had been scheduled for the same time at the same place. "Great. I'm the commanding officer of the Atlantis Expedition's military component, and we're here to brief you on the current strategic situation in Pegasus. Major Lorne will start us an overview of our own forces."

Evan stepped up to the podium and started clicking through slides, starting with the theoretical expedition organization chart, as opposed to the absurd crisscrossed real one. "Currently, the expedition is comprised of a little over five hundred permanent members, about half of whom are civilians. Our main military force consists of two companies of marines for base defense, plus seventy-eight other military personnel who fill out our off-world teams and support positions."

One of Army major near the front raised her hand. "I notice you have quite an odd mix there. Multiple services, even multiple countries. Is that causing any trouble?"

"You're correct, we've got a wide array of services represented. It's probably the most mixed interservice group in recent memory - we've even got a Coast Guard weatherman. There's sixteen different countries that have military personnel stationed in the city, thankfully primarily NATO so they're used to working together. There's a few oddballs, including a Mountie." That raised quite a few eyebrows around the room, and Evan smiled. "Don't ask, it's really not worth going into. Anyways, since most of them come to us piecemeal, they're simply slotted into the units just like anyone else. Overall there have been relatively few problems."

Relatively few meaning 'besides that time Sergeants Schwartz and Prodoun made out in public just to piss certain outsiders off', but he wouldn't say that in public. It would probably get back to the women somehow, and they could both beat him up. Besides, that definitely fell under the category of need to know information. "You'll note that we also have two Pegasus-born specialists on staff, technically listed as civilian contractors. In practice, both Teyla Emmagan and Specialist Ronon Dex are highly experienced combat personnel and are especially skilled at hand-to-hand fighting and field operations."

This time a full-bird Air Force colonel spoke up. "Aliens? And they're on the first contact team?"

John's expression went wooden for a moment, before a cheerful but entirely fake smile appeared on his face. "Their local knowledge is invaluable when dealing with the other native populations, as are all their other skills. Teyla and Ronon have been essential in off-world missions and have been instrumental in protecting the city and Earth."

"Still, bit of an odd choice, Colonel. While I'm sure they're helpful, isn't it unwise to put people we don't know that well into such important positions?" Evan could tell from the flex of John's jaw that he was starting to get annoyed at the nameless officer who was questioning him. Evan didn't blame him, either, especially since the tone the question had been delivered in seemed to be aimed squarely at questioning John's competence. Trying to defuse the situation, Evan smoothly inserts himself back into the conversation.

"Actually, sir, having an alien on the lead first-contact team is a practice that goes back to the first days of the SGC, and I doubt anyone could deny Teal'c's contributions to planetary security. There's several other examples, such as Jonas Quinn and a refugee name Nyan on Doctor Jackson's staff." Evan didn't mention Mal Doran, because for all her charm and helpfulness, she didn't exactly make a good example in favor of alien team members. "In any case, if you have questions about that particular policy, I would suggest you take it up with General O'Neill, as he was instrumental in creating it."

There were a few chuckles around the room, no doubt from people who had dealt with O'Neill before. Colonel Grumpy, as Evan decided to call him, didn't say anything in reply. Evan took that as an indication to go on. "In addition to those combat forces, the vast majority of our civilian population has fairly extensive self-defense training, thanks largely to to Emmagan, Dex, and several of our marines. While we obviously don't leave them unprotected at any time, this does let us concentrate more manpower carrying out operations. In addition, virtually all civilian members of the off-world teams have more extensive combat training, including the basic field survival and small unit warfare. In emergencies either in the field or in the city, they've proven to be extremely helpful as auxiliaries."

That drew a snort from Colonel Grumpy. "You can't be seriously using them on the front lines, can you? Putting a gun in a scientist's hand and teaching him a few neat tricks doesn't make him a soldier."

"No, sir, and we have no desire to make our civilian comrades soldiers," Evan replied. He was proud of himself for keeping his voice level. "However, they can handle themselves well, and have repeatedly demonstrated that they can be trusted to watch our backs and get us out of harms way if they need to. Beyond that, their technical knowledge is invaluable."

"Sure, sure, there's the science missions and all that, but surely the military has enough trained scientists that we don't need to rely on civilian contractors for initial exploration." Grumpy clearly doesn't know when to quit, and now the entire room seems focused on him. "You're just never going to get the same level of dedication out of someone who doesn't have a military background. I can see why you might have had to make do, but-"

Evan can tell the exact moment when something inside John breaks by the way his lips start to curl into the slightest smile. He doesn't let Grumpy finish the sentence, just interrupts to say, "Colonel, when was the last time you were out in the field?"

Colonel Grumpy looked annoyed at not being allowed to finish his statement, perhaps a bit confused at being confronted like that. "Well, it's been a few years, but I don't see what-"

"Okay, fair enough, that's normal at your rank," John said easily. "But when you were, what kind of unit was it?"

"I was running logistics flights in and out of Afghanistan," Grumpy said. "I hope you're not trying to imply that-"

John nodded sharply and cut him off again. "Important work, but I get why you might not understand the kind of dynamics involved with what's essentially a small special-forces unit that has to rely only on itself most of the time. The civilians on the teams, the permanent ones, they're every bit as part of the teams as the military members. They know exactly what they're getting into and the risks they're taking every time they go out, and while they still need protecting, that doesn't make them any less valuable or strong, if anything it's the other way around."

Colonel Grumpy snorted. "Oh, please, there's a difference between going out expecting peaceful exploration and knowing its a combat mission."

Evan was impressed by John's self-restraint, because he only growled just a little. His voice vibrating with barely-contained anger as he bit out, "No, it's not just a matter of normal missions going wrong, because they'll demand to go out on search and rescue knowing exactly how dangerous it is, because that's what teammates do for each other. Civilians have literally walked through fire for their comrades and I've lost too many of them when they've done it, so I would very much appreciate it if you didn't denigrate their bravery or their dedication. Sir."

There was something dangerous in the cold stare John was directing at the other man at that point, something dark that Evan had only rarely seen, and the colonel seemed to wilt and shrink into his seat. Thankfully he shut up, and Evan let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. A glance around the room revealed a few skeptical faces, but considerably more people looked thoughtful. After a minute, Evan clears his throat and goes on with the presentation, clicking the presentation on to a slide of jumper picture.

"Our aerospace forces consist of two dozen puddle jumpers, piloted by expedition members with the ATA gene - we only have a few professionally trained pilots, but so far that hasn't been a major issue. While technically a transport craft, the jumper is still a superior fighter to just about anything we face, and can even pose a threat to small capital ships. At present the jumpers can't be replaced, but engineering division thinks they may have found a factory, so that might change. We also have intermittent support from BC-304 cruisers passing through, and we'll cover those in more detail later."

Click, diagram of the city, and he was starting to get back into his rhythm. "Atlantis itself is defended by an energy shield, three drone weapon bays tied to a control chair, and a network of point-defense railguns. We avoid using those at all costs, though, preferring to keep our location a secret."

"Excuse me, sir," someone near the back interrupted, holding up his hand. Evan tried not to wince. At this rate, the meeting wouldn't get over anytime close to on schedule, and somehow he doubted there would be anything like a flame-breathing squid to interrupt.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, I must have missed a briefing somewhere along the line. What's Atlantis exactly? Some sort of ship or space station?"

John shot Evan a dismayed look and replied, “No, it's the fabled lost city of the Ancients. Although you're close, since it can fly." Evan can almost hear the word 'moron' tacked onto the sentence.

"I think this is going to take a little longer than we thought, sir," Evan murmured, while wondering who he needed to track down and shoot for this.

It ended up taking three long, agonizing hours for them to educate their charges on the wonders of gate travel, killer robots, nuclear fascist Amish, and space vampires. Fortunately for everyone involved no one had deliberately antagonized John again, either sensing it was a bad idea, not being assholes, or just wanting to get out of there as badly as they did. Once the briefing broke up, John and Evan quickly made their way to the parking lot and their government car. They had planned to hit a few museums, but clearly that idea was shot.

"Want to find a restaurant, or just room service?" Evan asked as they pulled onto the freeway. Long commutes were something he was definitely glad he didn't have deal with anymore, because even the longest jumper rides couldn't compare to sitting in the middle of traffic. Not even long jumper rides with hyper botanists or McKay.

"Room service," John replied, which suited Evan just fine. One benefit of this entire trip was they could actually share a room thanks to the USAF's beancounters. With a few precautions and a smuggled Ancient jamming device, they could actually spend the nights together in the same bed. They were well on their way back to the hotel when John's phone rang. They both groaned, and while John answered it Evan hoped that whatever emergency had come up was one that would at least get them away from their current hell.

"Sheppard." There was a pause, then a hesitant, "Uh. Hi. What's up?" As he listened, John desperately looked over at Evan. "Actually, ma'am, my XO and I were planning of seeing some sights, and it wouldn't be fair for me to leave him by himself. Maybe tomorrow would be-" He stopped, winced, and muttered, "Yes, ma'am," before closing his phone

"What's up?" Evan asked.

John looked over at him and took a deep breath. "Change in plans. We're having dinner at my mom's house tonight."

"We're what?"

Part 2

Fic - Mild Incovenience

Wed, 23 Jan 2008 04:25:05 GMT

Title: Mild Inconvenience by Slybrarian (Frelling Freezing)
Author: slybrarian
Rating: R
Pairing: Lorne/Sheppard, Sheppard/McKay/Lorne, various others mentioned
Word Count: 1369
Series: Dramatic Exit
Summary: Chuck and the Random Female Tech fixed the ventilation system, for certain values of fixed.
Author's notes: Minor spoilers for "Lockdown."

(The city was covered with ice an inch thick, so of course it turned off the heat.)