Fic: Poyekhali

[sgarb_mod]

Author: mdime02
Wordcount:11,763
Rating: R (for violence and occasional bad language)
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard (mostly implied)
Summary: AU. A world where the USSR survives, the Soviets control the stargate, and Rodney still gets sent to Siberia.
Warning(s) highlight to read: non-major character deaths
Notes: The title translates as "Let's go!" (pronounced po-YEK-hali), which is the word spoken by Yuri Gagarin as he blasted off (fifty years ago!) and became the first man in space. This piece was both very exciting and very difficult for me, and I ended up writing it in directions I didn't expect...I found it much harder to incorporate all of the details of the artwork into the fic than I originally thought, and I ended up not incorporating the Russian words and details I imagined I would. I hope the artist enjoys the fic, because I found the artwork very inspiring (and beautifully done), and I hope you enjoy it as well.

Companion piece to Art: Tell me, Comrade, What Would you Give for the Sky?

Poyekhali

The room was rather too warm, almost stifling. Rodney could hear the heavy, even tread of footsteps coming down the long hallway, parquet floors creaking with each step; there were two, maybe three of them. They paused just outside the door, conversing in low tones muffled by distance – probably giving the guards instructions.

He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable.

He heard the door open behind him and took a deep, steadying breath. They were in a tiny, stuffy office in a building serving the Soviet bureaucracy and probably drowning in paperwork, not a KGB torture chamber. Probably.

Rodney watched as a short, middle-aged man seated himself carefully at the desk in front of him, shuffling through a few papers before opening a manila folder. The man folded his hands, resting them on the desk and leaning forward. “So. Comrade McKay. It seems that we have a very serious problem.”

Rodney waited for him to say more, to give some indication of this ‘problem’, but the seconds ticked by in silence, the as-yet unidentified man staring at Rodney and Rodney staring at the wall above the man’s left ear. There was another presence behind him, out of sight; Rodney twitched, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

“I see.”

Again, Rodney waited for something: an explanation, a question, hell, even an accusation, but still there was nothing. Normally, he’d be ranting by now, criticizing his treatment and expounding on the idiocy of those around him, making himself loud and obnoxious and impossible to ignore, bludgeoning his opposition into submission and, quite possibly, tears.

Then again, normally didn’t really apply.

They’d been worried about this. The Americans. For once, Rodney actually wished they’d shown a little bit more paranoia.

Perhaps then, Rodney wouldn’t be sitting here in a nameless office in a nameless building, about to be sent to the gulag for hard labor if he was lucky, or executed for crimes against the USSR if he wasn’t.

*****
two months earlier…

“I don’t like it,” Colonel O’Neill said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. “We’ve had to fight for every little scrap of information from those Commies, even when we were helping them save the goddamn planet, and suddenly it’s all about exchanging ideas and fostering cooperation between –”

General Hammond sighed. “Your objection is noted, Colonel. Again. But the fact of the matter is, the Soviet government is in control of the stargate, and as long as that’s the case, the President wants relations between our two programs to improve.”

“And what’s to stop this from being a one-sided exchange?” Rodney asked. Several other scientists at the table voiced their agreement.

“If I may, sir?” Sam asked. At the General’s nod, she clicked over to the next slide on her presentation. “The first conference is proposed to be in London, with mainly Soviet presenters – papers, panels, Q&A. They’ve already given us a list of likely topics, which you can see here.”

The noise level in the room increased dramatically.

“Obviously,” she said with a grin, “we’re very interested; this would be a big leap for our program. After that, if all goes well, they want to have a Moscow conference four months later – giving us time to work through everything from London.”

“To counter it or add to it?” Dr. Jackson put in.

“Both, actually. Their representative indicated that this could open the door to working much more cooperatively, rather than independently developing the same technology.”

“But why now?” O’Neill asked sourly. “What are they getting out of this deal?”

“Well now,” General Hammond said, “that’s where things get a little more interesting. Their people would like us to believe that it’s about knowledge and sharing resources, and at least in part it is. The USSR would never admit to it, but we’ve known for some time that the cost of the Soviet stargate program is getting prohibitively expensive and we recently received intelligence that they were considering letting the United States play a more active role in operations.”

The Colonel perked up, asking, “Regular gate teams?”

Rodney huffed. “In exchange for our brains.”

“Essentially, yes. The more information they start sharing, the deeper into the program we’ll get. The more invested – intellectually and financially.”

“Which is still a good deal,” Carter added.

“If that were all it was, yes,” Hammond said, motioning to Major Sheppard, who’d remained quiet through the whole briefing. “Unfortunately, I’ve just been made aware of something more than a little troubling. Major?”

“Sir,” he acknowledged before turning towards the majority seated around the conference table, drumming his fingers on the top for a few moments. “They’ve discovered the gene.”

His words dropped like a bomb. The Soviets may have had control of the gate, the Earth’s only spaceship utilizing non-Earth tech, most of the artifacts and technology, and a two-decade head start, but they hadn’t known about the ATA gene. As far as they knew, the Soviets hadn’t realized a gene was needed to operate Ancient tech at all, assuming that the few recovered artifacts were drained or defective – especially given that only some technology was gene-locked.

It had been the Americans’ trump card, and one freely given to their scientists during a thaw in relations once the Soviet scientists had deemed the objects a harmless concession. The Soviets had always been more interested in Goa’uld technology, anyway.

It had allowed the American stargate program to develop and expand much more than the USSR realized. That, combined with leaks of information obtained from spies and dissidents, and the Americans weren’t nearly as far behind as the Soviets supposed.

Colonel O’Neill was the first to recover, any earlier pretense of relaxation and good humor gone. “How sure are we?”

“I can feel it,” Sheppard said.

“Fuck,” the Colonel replied, feelingly. “Sorry, sir,” he added, nodding to Hammond.

The General waved him off.

John had the strongest expression of the gene they’d ever come across. His ability to control and manipulate the Ancient technology had been instant and instinctual, much better even than Colonel O’Neill. Together they’d realized that there was a hidden base deep under the Antarctic ice, and after it had been secured without the Soviets’ knowledge the Major had become even more valuable to the program. Once he sat in the control chair, the technology no longer just responded to him, it called to him. It was as if the chair had opened something up inside John so that he could feel the objects, unlocking their secrets with a thought.

“They recently found a piece of tech that pairs with one of ours – it’s harmless, some sort of educational tool with a neat holographic display. It’s meant to connect with others like it for interactive learning. The part that we’ve got never worked when they had it, but when they brought the companion piece through…”

“It activated,” Daniel said. “Because ours had been initialized?

“And because the soldier holding it had the gene – a weak expression of it, but enough. I turned both parts off as soon as Dr. Simpson realized they were networking, but they must have tried to reactivate it and realized it only worked for that one person…they’ve activated several other devices since then.”

General Hammond cleared his throat. “As you can see, this changes everything. That was three days ago, and this proposal for the conferences and personnel exchanges came yesterday.”

Sam looked troubled. “Do they realize we’ve been holding out on them?”

“It’s hard to tell, but from what we’ve heard it doesn’t seem that way. We’d heard rumor of this conference idea earlier – the Soviets have probably just bumped up the timetable a bit.”

“Well, sir,” O’Neill said, “I’m going to renew my objection to having any part of this. Who knows what they might be up to.”

Rodney cleared his throat. “But we need to find out. Right? Not agreeing would be suspicious at best, for one thing.”

“And for another?” O’Neill asked, knowing that with McKay, there was always something else.

“For another, we don’t know what they’re up to.”

The Colonel glared, but Rodney glared right back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Right.”

“Here’s the thing,” John said. “They’re not going to share any of this at the conference. We kept it a secret, and you can bet they plan to do the same. We need to get someone in who can find out how much they know – about the ATA gene, about us, and about their future plans.”

Sam brightened. “If its cooperation they want, we can certainly do that. Everyone was interested in exchanging some personnel…Rodney, you’ve gotten along pretty well with Dr. Zelenka, right?”

“Zelempa? That second-rate hack? He might shine brighter than those other dim light bulbs, but that idiot wouldn’t know his –”

“That’s a yes, General,” Sam interrupted. “Dr. Zelenka is sure to present a paper in London. We’ll have McKay get into an argument with him…”

“Not a problem,” Rodney grumbled.

“…throw out a few enticing ideas…”

“So he can steal them.” Rodney scowled at John when he was kicked under the table, slumping in his chair.

“…and get himself invited to help work on the new theory.”

“That I – wait, what?” Rodney jerked upright, horrified. “Hold your horses there, blondie, when did I become the sacrificial lamb in this crazy scenario of yours?”

“Zelenka’s about the only scientist on their side that I can picture taking the idea of cooperation to heart; give him a new theory to play with and you’ll be impossible to resist. You know how worked up the two of you get when you’re together.”

“Because he’s –” Rodney’s arms flailed as he searched for a word that could sufficiently encompass what he felt about the other scientist, but first Sam and then John raised an eyebrow at him and he suddenly deflated, anger dissipating. “You’re right. The rest of them are ego-centric jerks desperate for recognition.”

Ignoring the snort from O’Neill, he continued, “But I’m not exactly James Bond material, here. What do you expect me to do once I’m there?”

“Don’t worry, Rodney,” John said. “We’ll figure everything out. You’ll be fine.”

*****

Phase one of their plan had gone off without a hitch. Rodney had been horribly distracted by all the new information, nearly vibrating off of his seat during a presentation on the advancements in hyperdrive technology – not to mention all of the shiny new tech being displayed – but he found it all too easy to challenge Dr. Zelenka’s theory regarding power consumption and conservation in the stargate, faking a few flashes of brilliance mixed with arrogant condescension which would require weeks of equations and debate to hammer out into a new, workable understanding.

While he wasn’t exactly excited about the idea of reworking the work he’d already done with Sam a few months back, the trap had been successfully laid. The government representative and Colonel O’Neill acted suitably reluctant to allow him out of their sights, let alone to the Soviet research complex to work with Dr. Zelenka for the next month or more. Calls were made, an agreement was eventually reached, and then he was off –taken by plane and train and truck to the middle of the vast nowhere known as Siberia, to a military complex in a small town that wouldn’t appear on any map, one of many secret cities scattered throughout the Soviet Union.

The facility was underground, much like the Americans’ complex at Cheyenne Mountain. He hadn’t been told that the stargate was located here, but considering the size of the military and scientific presence it seemed obvious that it was. Normally oblivious to most things not science-related, Rodney made an effort to pay attention the details: quickly learning his way around the labyrinthine base while acting as if he did not; remembering faces and names and schedules; concealing how much Russian he understood; and figuring out where he was most likely to find the records and information he was looking for.

Phase two, actually finding said information and passing it along covertly to Sheppard during their scheduled twice-weekly monitored video conferences, was meeting with significantly less success. While he was at the point where he could convince his minders to wait outside the lab when he was working on equations at the whiteboard, Rodney was never alone in a room with a computer.
Zelenka didn’t watch him too closely while they worked, concerned more with the science than thoughts of espionage, but they weren’t the only scientists in the lab and Rodney could never guarantee he’d have much more than a few unmonitored seconds at the laptop at any given time. And none of the scientists – not even the ones he had had contact with before – would discuss any of their projects with him without specific authorization…not even casually, over lunch.

He was frustrated and it showed, his temper growing shorter as he spun his wheels on the gene front and the team of scientists working on the power equations with Radek and himself bumbled around in circles contributing nothing, despite Rodney’s having pointed the way with everything but a giant flashing arrow.

By the time they erased the equations that Rodney had spent the past week pretending to labor over, calling them “inaccurate” and muttering to themselves about his undisciplined mind, Rodney’s had it. He’s fed up with it, with them. He’s done.

The explosion that followed might only have been verbal, but it was epic, and the part of Rodney’s mind not consumed by utter rage imagined that John would be suitably impressed and half wished he could record this knock-down, drag-out scientific screaming match conducted in at least three languages and a plethora of rude gestures for posterity.

When Radek and Sasha had to hold Oleg back from attacking Rodney, he stormed out, trailed by his two personal guards, still muttering curses and flailing his hands. They’re at least twelve levels underground and there is no direct route to the surface, so by the time he hit the actual exit he’d mostly run out of steam. The first step outside stole Rodney’s breath, frigid night air reminding him that he hadn’t been outside in nearly nine days and that, fuck, yes, he’s in Siberia in February. Rodney took a few steps away from the building and his minders, pulling his coat more tightly around him and burrowing in deep. The air was like glass, so sharp he could feel it as it settled in his lungs and forced him to take slow, shallow breaths.

He looked up at the stars, the Milky Way, shivering as the moisture from his breath froze on the scarf around his face. Rodney could hear the crunch of boots on snow behind him, Thing 1 and Thing 2 waiting impatiently for their ward to come to his senses and go back inside.

He missed John.

It was still another two days until his next scheduled call, and he didn’t know how much more he could take. He was used to his so-called peers not being able to keep up with him – that was nothing new – but they’d never taken that to mean that he was the slow one, that just because he had a thought they’d never considered didn’t mean that he was automatically wrong.

If this was how the Soviets had been running their stargate program, it was no wonder the American-led program was catching up quickly. He was beginning to seriously wonder if they even knew the expression ‘thinking outside the box.’

And now this stupid incident might have jeopardized his mission.

He’d have to go back in with his tail between his legs and apologize to Radek; he, at least, hadn’t really deserved Rodney’s anger. It was late now, but perhaps tomorrow he could explain where he had been going with those equations, let him catch Rodney’s idea and run with it on his own…

Rodney sighed, turning back towards the building. It hadn’t been so bad, working more closely with Zelenka; their previous working relationship had been limited to a few panicked, last-minute, end-of-the-world saves and writing snarky comments in the margins of one another’s papers. Radek was no big fan of the Soviets, he could tell, but he loved the science and the thrill of discovery.

If Rodney were a more subtle man, with a poker face like O’Neill or an all-around smooth operator like Sheppard, he’d probably have sounded the other man out by now, tried to convince him to flee the USSR and join the American stargate program instead. But he couldn’t be sure of Radek’s loyalties – or their lack – and being Czechoslovakian rather than Russian probably meant that the Soviets already had a file on the man as thick as that idiot Oleg’s head, detailing every move he’d ever made and every person he’d ever talked to.

Rodney’s thoughts of Radek’s theoretical defection skidded to a stop. A file. Because if there was anyone who loved paperwork more than the Americans, it was the Soviets. They documented everything – recorded it and filed it away, probably never to be seen again, classified Top Secret and brought to light only if they needed to revise history to make themselves look better.

Rodney hadn’t been able to access the computer files, no. But the physical files…

This was very much not a paperless base. And he knew right where to start looking.

Clapping his hands together at least in part to warm them, Rodney hurried back inside. He planted a scowl on his face, glaring at everyone he passed in the halls and hoping that word of his earlier screaming match with his team had spread in the way that all of the best gossip always seemed to – instantly.

He burst into the lab, erased everything that they had written in place of Rodney’s equation with short, vicious strokes, and replaced it with his own work again, brushing past a gobsmacked Oleg when he stormed back out. As he made his way up three levels and down several corridors, it became clear that no one wanted to be near Rodney so he used that to his advantage, walking quickly to the small lab on level 8 and making a show of slamming every door along the way.

Once in the lab he slammed that door, too, shedding his outerwear and tossing it on the closest table. A few seconds later he could see the shadow of his guards appearing outside the door. Apparently they weren’t willing to test Rodney’s temper either, because neither one even popped his head inside.

He moved closer, listening as they radioed in their new position and were told to just let Comrade McKay work alone until his curfew.

Almost two hours…perfect. If that was all it took to be allowed to work in peace, he might just have to throw a temper tantrum more often.

Rodney quickly scribbled some work on the whiteboards in the room in case anyone thought to check, then walked across the room to the filing cabinets.

He made quick work of the locks, but after briefly scanning the folder tabs he could see that there was nothing of interest. Next he moved to the small adjoining office, mostly finding notes and research on the staff weapons used by Jaffa – interesting, but not what he was after.

There was one more room he could access from here, but that door required a higher level access card then the one which Rodney had been allowed. Grinning to himself, Rodney pulled out the card he had lifted just before coming here: Oleg Andreevich Petrov, it declared. Colonel O’Neill had always encouraged the base Marines to teach the scientists to fight dirty, and the Marines had obliged. After a few lessons from Lieutenant Ford last year, the science team had spent the next week pickpocketing everyone and everything in sight before the General had put his foot down.

He swiped the card, watching gleefully as the lights switched from red to green. With one last glance at the empty lab behind him, Rodney slipped into the next room.

Pay dirt.

Rodney could see a few objects that were clearly Ancient in origin, as well as several tablets and computers. Much as he’d love to do this the easy way, he didn’t have time to try to break the passwords and encryption on the computers and find the information he needed.

He took a quick look at the artifacts, one in particular catching his eye. It looked rather like a Game Boy, with a small display that lit when Rodney picked it up; it must have remained initialized. He could see lines on a grid and a few flashing dots – one by the lower left-hand corner and two others further away. It only took a moment for Rodney to realize its purpose. He tested his theory by walking with the detector in hand, watching at the single dot moved when he did. Now that was a handy piece of technology…Sheppard would love it.

Putting it back for now, Rodney rifled through the papers left on tables, then through the desk. There were several cardboard file boxes stacked on the floor…transferred by order of Colonel Sokolov, the paper taped to the box top read. It was stamped the day John said the Soviets first activated the Ancient artifact.

This was it. It had to be.

Rodney pulled the lid off the first box and started skimming through the reports, slowed down by his imperfect language skills. Descriptions of the Ancient artifacts in their inventory, theories about their purpose, reports on the artifacts given to the American program…knowing he only had about twenty minutes left, Rodney flipped past several folders before finding one labeled ‘Ancient genetics.’ Glancing at the next few labels, he pulled them all, intending to look at them more closely, when something fell out of one of the folders to the floor.

Stooping to pick it up, Rodney cursed. It was a photograph of the joint space mission five years ago, a high point in US-Soviet relations. It was during the celebration of the mission’s success that the American government was first told about the existence of the stargate.

Four astronauts and four cosmonauts stood together, beaming, looking only slightly ridiculous in their bulky spacesuits as the American President shook hands with the General Secretary of the Soviet Union, the facilities at Baikonur in the background.

Two faces had been circled in red ink, an indecipherable scribble beside them: it was Major Sheppard and Captain Lorne, both gene bearers.

How did they know?

Rodney set aside the folders he’d been holding, flipping though the other files in the box quickly until he found John’s. Sitting at the lab table, he scanned the documents for important information, skipping past the records of the Major’s schooling and early career in the Air Force. He was distracted when he came across his own name in what looked like a psychological report; something about their ‘mutual sympathies’? So even the Soviets were speculating about their love life, it seemed. Well, speculating, and trying to find ways to use that against them. Dismissing that for now, Rodney paused again when he hit medical records, cursing the fact that he didn’t know much medical jargon in English, let alone Russian.

One section was obviously added recently, saying something about re…testing? checking?...the DNA, and crap, the Soviets must have kept blood and samples from all of the astronauts who participated in the mission.

So their scientists had discovered that the reason the Ancient gizmo lit up for one person and not for anyone else was genetic. Once they found the gene, they must have tested everyone connected to the program; hell, probably everyone in the military. Then some genius must have realized they had the samples from the American astronauts, and…huh.

Rodney found the word they were using to indicate the gene and then pulled the folder with that tab out of his other stack. Most of it was gibberish, but he looked for information about testing until he found…well. Huh, again.

Only three people so far, in all of their testing, and one of them was the soldier who’d initially activated the tech. Then they tested the four American samples, and found that half were gene-positive. No wonder the Soviets were interested in cooperation – they wanted to know if the gene was more common, probably also if it was stronger. John had said the soldier’s gene was weak, they must have realized they needed a stronger expression of the gene to properly use the Ancient technology. They were probably looking to create a gene therapy just like the Americans were, wanting to keep the other program out of the loop entirely; if there was a gate team stationed here, some scientists, too, the Soviets would be able to take any samples they needed under the pretense of the medical exams. And John would surely be one of them.

Rodney flipped the page. ATLANTIDA? was scrawled across the top, but he didn’t know the word. It was definitely a noun so it wasn’t Atlantic and Atlanta was just Atlanta, but maybe a different place name? Rodney checked the file box and, sure enough, there was a file labeled that way.

He glanced at his watch, then pulled the folder. Ten minutes, which meant he only had about five. Okay, so the Soviet program had come across references to a lost city about twelve years ago and began searching for it; they found an address with eight chevrons, which meant the city was in the galaxy Pegas…the Pegasus galaxy; a crew was gathered and prepared, then sent through the gate.

They never heard from them again.

Someone had recently attached a new report: none of the expedition members had the ATA gene. So the Soviets, in their excitement, had sent their personnel to an Ancient city where they now knew that no one could operate Ancient technology.

There was so much more, but time was running short. Rodney quickly pulled together all of the papers he’d scattered, putting away the folders and slipping back out of the room. All was quiet in his lab, so Rodney picked up his marker and began idly scribbling on the board, thoughts racing.

He needed to get back in there, certainly. Things were much more complicated than even the Americans had guessed, and Rodney hadn’t yet found anything concrete about the Soviets’ plans. He’d have to drop Oleg’s keycard in a corridor on his way back to his room – it would be deactivated soon, anyway – and pick up another just before he came back here.

“Comrade McKay?”

Rodney jumped, startled. “Oh, yes. Time to go, is it?”

“We must take you back to your room, now.”

“Yes, okay.” Rodney wrote ‘Don’t erase’ in large all-caps in both Russian and English, saying, “Make sure no one touches this. I want to work on it tomorrow.”

*****
It was two days before Rodney was able to get back to the lab, forced to explain where he had been headed with the equations that caused the argument and then work through them with the other scientists when they still insisted that he was on the wrong track.

Eventually, Rodney had pleaded with Radek that he needed some time to work alone or else history was likely to repeat itself. Radek must have seen something in Rodney’s eyes because he agreed readily, shooing him off and telling him that he could stay there the rest of the evening.

Though he felt badly about it, this time the card he swiped was Radek’s. Following the same pattern as the last time, Rodney filled a whiteboard with equations before heading over to the security locked door.

Two steps into the room, Rodney realized that he wasn’t alone. He dropped to the ground, crawling behind a lab table and hoping that the other occupants were too engrossed in their conversation to have noticed him.

“…move forward?” One voice asked.

“Yes, sir. All is ready to proceed.” Another answered.

Rodney spotted the detector on the adjoining table; calculating his level of risk, he decided to follow Sheppard’s lead and just go for it. The detector lit up in his hands, showing five dots in the room besides his own.

He missed what was said next, but the second voice replied in the affirmative.

“Very well,” voice one said. “You may return to your post.”

Rodney could hear footsteps, then the door; he peered around the edge of the table, trying to get a look at who was in the room. He could see two men, but their backs were turned.

“He does not suspect?” The first voice asked.

The other man, who hadn’t spoken yet, laughed. “He thinks that he is serving his dear Mother Russia, protecting the Soviet state. He is eager. And foolish.”

Rodney looked down at the detector. Startled, he fumbled it, narrowly keeping it from hitting the floor. There were still four other lifesigns in the room, practically right on top of each other, but he had only seen two people. Risking another look, Rodney glanced from the detector to the men in front of him and back again, baffled.

Why was he reading extra lifesigns when clearly none were there?

Two more lifesigns were approaching from the corridor, so Rodney quickly, carefully put the detector back on the table and prepared to make his move. In the commotion of the newcomers’ entrance, Rodney slipped back to the lab, hoping that no one had seen him.

Heart pounding, Rodney took a deep breath and tried to make sense of what he had seen and heard. God, but he wished for a friendly face to talk to – at this point, even Daniel Jackson would do. He was alone out here, and incredibly ill-equipped, and he should have insisted that Sam be the undercover scientist spy instead of him.

He sat on one of the stools, staring at the whiteboard but not seeing it, until he heard raised voices outside his door.

The door slammed open, four uniformed men Rodney didn’t recognize brushing past his own pissed-off looking minders.

“Comrade McKay,” one of them barked. “You are ordered to come with us. Immediately.”

The four of them surrounded him, escorting him quickly from the room. To his surprise, Rodney found that he was not being led to the base commander’s office as he had assumed, but rather was taken to the surface.

No one said a word to him, not even in response to his questions and demands to know where he was going. As he was bundled into a waiting car and driven away from the base, Rodney cursed, knowing that whatever was coming next, it wouldn’t be good.

Rodney had spent about twenty minutes in his silent staring contest with the nameless Party bureaucrat before there was a commotion in the hallway and a furious looking Colonel Sokolov burst inside.

Nameless Party bureaucrat jumped to his feet and started shouting at the Colonel, and the Colonel shouted right back. They were speaking far too quickly for Rodney to catch more than one word in twenty, but they were both clearly furious.

There was something being said about authority, and the Colonel ended up storming over to the bureaucrat’s desk, grabbing the telephone and viciously punching in the numbers. He announced himself to the other party, then handed the receiver over to the clearly nervous bureaucrat.

The Colonel loomed over him with arms crossed, face impassive as the bureaucrat started out in strident tones and gradually became meeker, mumbling a few words before suddenly falling all over himself to reassure the person on the other end of the phone that he understood, that he was only looking out for the State, that he would of course do exactly as instructed, yes, Comrade, thank you, Comrade.

Nameless bureaucrat gently hung up the phone, closing his eyes and visibly steeling himself to turn around and face the Colonel.

A few minutes later, Rodney was back in a car, sitting beside the Colonel and speeding back towards the base.

“You must not be late for your call with the Major,” Colonel Sokolov said.

“Right. Of course. I…” Rodney paused, bewildered. He didn’t want to jinx his sudden good fortune, and who knew what might await him after the call, but he had no idea what had just happened.

“Sometimes, the State is too…eager in its zeal to protect our citizens. He did not have the authority to retrieve you, but I was not on base at the time and my men did not understand this. We’ve had to deal with such unpleasantness among our own people from time to time, but as a guest of our government you were not meant to be subjected to such questions.”

“He didn’t ask any questions.”

“A complaint was made against you,” the Colonel explained, “and surely you understand that we must take these matters seriously for the good of the Soviet Union. But you are not one of our citizens, and your words and actions, I think, are not anti-Soviet. As it was explained to me, such debate is more…acceptable, among your scientists. There is less importance placed upon rank and seniority, yes? Doctor Zelenka has told me that he finds your arguments useful, not demeaning.”

Rodney kept silent, thinking.

“Please, you must report to your government everything is well. There is no need to worry them about this…misunderstanding.”

Rodney turned towards the Colonel, eyebrow raised. “And why would I do that?”

Sokolov sighed, leaning back further in his seat. “I have already placed a notation in Comrade Petrov’s file, he –”

“Petrov!” Rodney exclaimed. “That little –”

“Please, Doctor, as I said. I have spoken to Comrade Zelenka and agree with him that Petrov’s accusation came from jealousy, a foolish belief that you were attempting to sabotage the project. He will be punished. But we have looked favorably upon your visit with us, and wish for you to continue your work on this important project. For the common good.”

“Hmph,” Rodney huffed, wheels spinning. It looked like no one had discovered his extra-curricular activities, which was good, but it was likely that now everyone would be watching him even more closely, which was not. “Very well,” he conceded, “as long as Petrov is reassigned, I have been finding the research very interesting and wish to continue also.”

“Thank you, Comrade McKay.”

“Well,” he temporized, “there is one more thing. Last week, Radek discussed expanding this cooperative exchange with you, to bring several more scientists and possibly one of our military teams for cross-training.”

“And as I am sure you were informed, Comrade, that decision is not mine to make.”

“But you could recommend it, couldn’t you?”

Rodney couldn’t read the Colonel’s face and hoped that he hadn’t pushed too far.

“I can see the benefit of such an arrangement, but the stargate program is already quite busy. The Goa’uld…”

He stopped abruptly, and Rodney realized that the Colonel wasn’t going to share details with him, a foreigner who’d just caused a great deal of trouble and was resented by most of the scientists on his base.

“I am no diplomat,” Rodney said, startling a chuckle out of Sokolov. “But we all wish for Earth to be safe. Let us help.”

The Colonel said nothing more and they were soon back on base, Rodney escorted to the room where he would speak to John when he called in.

They always left him alone in the room, but Rodney had no illusions of privacy: his every word and gesture was monitored.

Rodney saw John’s unruly hair first, filling the monitor as the Major settled into his chair.

“Hey, McKay,” he greeted brightly.

Rodney smiled. “John.”

“So what’s the word from the frozen tundra? Dr. Zelenka throw you out of the lab, yet?”

Rodney gave a brief report on his progress since they last spoke, not mentioning his recent run-in with the Party in order to stay on Colonel Sokolov’s good side. John reciprocated with the goings-on back home, obviously keeping everything carefully edited.

Business over with, Rodney asked about his cats and the latest scuttlebutt regarding Lt. Ford’s attempts to woo Dr. Simpson, and John told him about the movie he’d seen over the weekend and the latest exploits of his favorite football team.

It was all coded, of course, which is why they’d decided on John as his liaison rather than someone higher up in the program – they’d always had a sort of verbal shorthand, and Rodney was easily able to tell John that tensions were running high here, that it was time to extend the offer of more personnel again, that the Soviets knew John had the gene, and that something really big and really secret was going on.

Rodney desperately wanted to tell John about the clandestine, and presumably doomed, mission to the Pegasus galaxy, as well as the fact that someone on the inside was plotting something against this base, but they didn’t really have words for something so specific. Rodney could only let him know that something was wrong, and secret, and that he really wanted John or O’Neill or whomever to get over here and help him out.

They wrapped up the call, John’s eyes and the tilt of his head offering reassurance to Rodney, a quiet acknowledgement of what they couldn’t say out loud: be careful, I miss you, I’ve got your back. And even though he was thousands of miles away, Rodney believed him.

*****

Rodney spent the next week completely unable to learn anything more. He had figured out the identity of one of the men he had seen – a Sergeant who, according to Zelenka, worked on the gate level – and had passed him a few times in corridors or the cafeteria. Though he tried to take note of who he was with, Rodney couldn’t exactly hang around to eavesdrop on their conversations. He was getting a bad feeling, though, and as the days went by he became more certain that something was going to happen, and soon.

The Soviets were always paranoid, afraid of being turned in by colleagues for saying the wrong thing, seeing traitors and spies around every corner, so most of the scientists kept quiet and their heads down. Even so, the general mood of the base was…off, somehow.

Rodney couldn’t really go to the Colonel with his concerns without revealing why he had them, and something like that could only end badly, especially since he lacked any sort of proof or even names of those involved. Rodney was seriously contemplating having a conversation with Zelenka, but he wasn’t quite sure where to start.

He was staring moodily at the papers in front of him, taking his red pen to Sasha’s recent work on wormhole stability, when someone cleared his throat behind him.

“Doctor McKay,” the young soldier said in incredibly slow and careful English, “you are wished to be seen by Colonel Sokolov. Please come with me now.”

Though he had come up with increasingly wild scenarios about what the Colonel might want during his trip to the man’s office, he hadn’t expected anything like what was before him: six Marines, two Air Force officers, and four scientists – but really, as grateful as he was at that moment, he only had eyes for John.

“Hey there, Doc. Miss us?”

Rodney snorted. “Still an overeager puppy I see, Ford,” he said, by which he meant hell, yes. “Major Sheppard, you didn’t mention a field trip when I spoke to you last.”

“Well, our General and your Colonel here agreed that we shouldn’t let you have all the fun. It seems we have some valuable skills to exchange, and since you’ve advocated so eloquently for more of your scientists, we just hopped on a plane and came over to help. We’re all on Earth’s side, after all.”

“Yes,” Rodney said with a cough, knowing it couldn’t possibly have been nearly that easy. “Quite.”

“Comrade McKay,” Sokolov said, “you are free to take your people to the cafeteria for refreshments and then they will be escorted to their rooms, as I am sure they are quite tired.” He turned to the Major, “The scientists may begin working tomorrow on the appropriate projects, but I am afraid that your men will be subject to some physical tests before their training program can be devised or any gate travel authorized.”

“Of course, Colonel,” Sheppard said, shaking hands with the other man. “Thank you.”

Dismissed, everyone filed out of the office, Rodney vibrating at the feel of John’s hand at the small of his back.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” he exclaimed.

“Glad to see you too, McKay,” John responded, grinning. “We’ve agreed to stay here for the next month, possibly leaving one of the gate teams behind and rotating another in for training. They haven’t really hammered out all the details for what to do with the scientists, yet, plus the Moscow conference is coming up soon. Everyone at the Mountain seems really amped up about it.”

“I’m sure. You won’t stay, will you?”

“Nah. I’m here more to oversee the training and approve all the little details…of course, I wouldn’t object to going through the gate a time or two. It’s been a while.”

“Adrenaline junkie,” Rodney teased, still inordinately pleased by their surprise appearance. “But really, you couldn’t have let me know?”

“No one was really sure until yesterday, and besides, you love surprises.”

“That is a bold faced lie and you know it.”

John shrugged. “Whatever. I’m famished, got anything besides borscht and cabbage around here?”

“Right this way, Major,” Rodney said with a flourish, moving towards the front of their group and greeting his colleagues along the way.

The cafeteria fell silent when they entered, then doubled its previous volume. Most of the Americans went straight for the food, but several were greeted by colleagues they had met at the London conference or, for a select few, when they had consulted here previously. It was actually rather refreshing to see his scientists interacting with their Soviet counterparts when there wasn’t the threat of painful death or world destruction looming over their heads; of course, there were also those who looked on the foreigners with nothing but suspicion, but Rodney was too happy at the moment to take note of who objected to their presence.

John excused himself from their table partway through the meal, asking for the bathroom. Rodney used the opportunity to escort him, receiving knowing glances from both Captain Lorne and Dr. Zelenka, who had joined them soon after they were seated.

After checking that no one else was inside, Rodney allowed himself one quick kiss before holding John tightly, tucking his face in John’s shoulder and whispering quickly.

“They’re watching. They always do. Hardly anyone has the gene – I think they’re working on a retrovirus, too. That’s probably why they let you come, to use yours. Something else is going on though, internally. Not good.”

“Any ideas?” John asked, voice muffled against the top of Rodney’s head.

“Don’t know. Also, they sent an expedition out, 60 people, about a decade ago...hardly anyone even knows about it. A lost Ancient city. Never heard back.”

John kissed him again, whispering against his lips. “Atlantis?”

Rodney jerk back, shocked. “How did –”

“Daniel found stuff.”

“Okay. First thing, we need to –”

The door banged open and they jumped apart, John going to the sink as two soldiers entered, laughing. Rodney tried to compose himself but knew he was flushed while John, of course, looked completely unaffected.

Rodney’s mind was spinning, trying to figure out how and when he’d be able to pass information safely. The Soviets would be expecting that, and he and John couldn’t air their relationship much more than they already had; only the plausible deniability of being in the bathroom had let them be alone together even that much.

They only made it a few feet down the corridor when the base alarms began blaring. One of the men who usually escorted Rodney was talking on his radio, heading towards them at a run. “Comrade McKay! Quickly, you must come – the Colonel needs you to come to the control room.”

“I’m coming, too,” John shouted over the blare of the klaxons.

The man only nodded, saying, “Follow me.”

They bypassed the elevators for the stairwell, heading down several levels. “What’s happening?” John asked as they went through a door and several corridors.

“I do not know – only that the Doctor was needed. There was a –” He halted at the sound of weapons fire. “Chyort!”

The three of them fell back to the closest office, the sergeant swiping them inside. He immediately got on the radio, Russian military shorthand that Rodney had no hope of following.

“The hell, McKay?” John asked.

“I told you there was something wrong, but I didn’t expect –”

“Radios have been compromised,” the Sergeant interrupted, looking tense. “It seems there are traitors among us.”

“Well don’t look at me!” Rodney exclaimed.

“No, no, Doctor, that is not what I meant. But getting to the control room is even more urgent now. Please. Major, here,” he said, passing John a handgun. “A sign of trust.”

“A sign of trust,” John echoed. “Where to?”

“In this situation, many corridors are sealed off. We must go back up one level before we can continue moving west.”

They slipped out cautiously, no sign of anyone else yet. They had crossed one section of the complex and were headed back down when they came across their first bodies. All three were Russian soldiers, but while two held AK-47s, the other had a Zat.

John gave Rodney his handgun and took two others for himself, along with a knife and some extra clips. The Sergeant checked the Zat, turning it over to check for markings. “This is not ours. There are Goa’uld on base.”

“Well, shit,” John said. “I’m not sure I needed this warm a welcome. Ready, Rodney?”

Rodney nodded.

“Quickly,” the Sergeant said. They ran.

*****

When Rodney opened his eyes and couldn’t see, he panicked. Finding out that he wasn’t blind, merely on the floor in a pitch black corridor filled with smoke from a recent explosion, was less than comforting.

“John,” he called out, choking. His head hurt, moving hurt – everything hurt – but he rolled over and started feeling around for the others.

They’d met up with a group of five people about half an hour ago, two soldiers and three scientists, and had been making their way steadily towards the control room when they met up with a Major that Rodney remembered seeing a time or two before. The Sergeant’s relief at being able to turn over authority to a senior officer was unmistakable, right up until the moment a few minutes later when the Major’s eyes flashed and everything went to hell.

The woman next to Rodney was dead, as was the man beside her. Further along he felt another leg, this one attached to a man who was unconscious but still alive. He could hear a few people groaning, and he called out again, “Sheppard!”

Rodney wrapped an arm around his ribs and struggled to his knees. “John!”

“Rodney?”

A moment later he collided with a John-shaped object. “Oh, thank God,” he said, even while hissing in pain.

“You okay?” John asked.

“I’m mobile. You?”

“Yeah. I’ve got two people, not so bad off – had them stay against the wall. One dead.”

“Two dead, one unconscious.”

“Okay,” John wheezed, “okay. We have to keep moving. Find some light, at least.”

“Right. This way, I think.”

“You think?”

“Well, I was recently tossed around by an explosion and since we’re ridiculously far underground, it’s a bit too dark to be sure.” Rodney coughed, sucking in a sharp breath at the pain in his chest. “Come on.”

They stumbled their way down the corridor, the two other survivors in tow. They eventually found an unlocked door and Rodney fumbled for the light switch, elated when it actually worked. Their two companions were scientists – Rodney’s Sergeant hadn’t survived. Rodney only knew one of the men, a linguist named Mikhail who’d mostly ignored Rodney; Mikhail tore off a strip of his shirt to bandage a wound on the other man’s arm, then held another piece to his own forehead.

They quickly ransacked the room for supplies, the scientists seemingly content to let the man with military experience – even if he was an American – take charge.

“Jackpot!” Rodney proclaimed, pulling several flashlights out of a drawer. “That’s one for me, one for the Major, and one for the two of you,” he said, handing them out. “What else have we got?”

“Not much,” John replied, “mostly office supplies. You still know where we’re going?”

“Of course,” Rodney said dismissively, then paused, brow furrowed, before snapping his fingers. “They were Goa’uld!”

“Yes?” John drawled. “We know that already.”

“No, no…just, follow me.”

“Okay guys, let’s move out.”

Rodney headed to the end of the corridor and turned left.

“Major,” the other scientist called, “this is not the way.”

“Rodney?” John asked.

“Can’t go that way yet, have to make a stop first. Trust me.” Not waiting for a reply, Rodney quickly led them to the lab with the Ancient artifacts. “Mikhail, do you have access to this lab?”

“Yes, Doctor, but I don’t see –”

“Just swipe your card, let’s go.”

The file boxes that had been so important to Rodney were no longer there, likely moved back to their secure location, but the shelves of Ancient gizmos were still there. John paused, probably feeling the activated objects through his freakishly strong ATA gene.

Rodney grabbed the detector off the shelf and handed it to John, not bothering to explain what it was. The man probably already knew as much as Rodney did – perhaps more.

“The Goa’uld show up as two lifesigns. Parasite and host. Not sure about Jaffa, but them we’ll know on sight.”

“We won’t get fooled again,” John said, determined.

“Comrade McKay,” interrupted the scientist Rodney didn’t know. “You should not have access to –”

John aimed his sidearm at the man and he stopped arguing, holding his hands up in surrender. John took a step closer, eyes narrowed, saying, “Your base has been invaded. It is under attack by the enemy. Many of your colleagues are now dead. If you want to take your chances alone, you are welcome to do that; if you want to stay here, you are welcome to do that as well. But Dr. McKay and I are going to the control room to try to save this base, and if you choose to come with us you will do as I say and keep quiet or I will ensure that you do so by force. Understand?”

For a moment no one breathed. Rodney figured he shouldn’t find an authoritative, threatening John as mind-numbingly attractive as he did, but then he also figured he probably had a concussion.

“Da. Yes, sir,” the scientist said meekly.

“Good,” John said, then turned to Mikhail. “What about you?”

“Of course I will help,” he answered.

“Well, alright then,” John said. “Looks like we get to test out your gizmo right off the bat, Rodney. Three lifesigns, headed our way.”

They turned out to be friendlies, and the deeper they got into the complex the more people they ran into. They were mostly scientists, and none of the soldiers were officers, so everyone seemed mostly content to provide their expertise but defer to John.

A tense moment came when John had to shoot a young Lieutenant who had a group of six with him, all soldiers, but an exchange of rapid-fire Russian between his soldiers and John’s own led to them lowering their rifles and sharing both intel and their weapons.

Almost immediately after that, another explosion echoed. It was in the opposite direction, but then a few minutes later gunfire and Zat weapons sounded nearby. John checked the detector: it was a large group, eleven lifesigns, but even as he watched eleven became ten and then nine.

“This way!” John dashed down the hallway, the soldiers soon outflanking him to take point. Rodney watched John’s men set up at the corner, waiting as the group – eight now, Rodney saw from over John’s shoulder – approached.

The first person to come into view was Lt. Ford, and Rodney gaped, disbelieving. Ford froze when he spotted the soldiers waiting, eyes darting from one to another, weapon raised. “Friend or foe?” He asked in his terrible Russian.

“Ford,” John called out, smirking as the Lieutenant’s eyes went wide. “Who else do you have with you?”

Aiden lowered his weapon and motioned to his group that it was safe. “It’s damn good to see you, sir.”

“You too, Lieutenant,” John said, eyes flicking to the detector’s display. “You have seven others with you?”

“Now how do you know that, sir?” Captain Lorne asked as he stepped into view, right arm in a makeshift sling.

“McKay got me a new toy. Very useful,” John replied, holding up the detector.

Rodney let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in when he saw Ford and Lorne’s group: three of the Marines, Dr. Simpson, Zelenka, and a Soviet chemist were with them, but he couldn’t help asking, “Where are the others?”

“Not sure,” Lorne said. “We were all scattered early on, I just picked up Sgt. Bates and Dr. Simpson a few minutes ago after that last blast.”

Glancing at the motley crew of soldiers and scientists surrounding his CO, Lorne walked over to John for a quick, whispered conversation. John nodded, placing a hand on Lorne’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Good job, Captain,” he said, then sought out his highest ranking Soviet soldier for a conference.

“What was that about?” Rodney asked, but Lorne just shook his head.

“Not now, McKay.”

After a short discussion, it was decided that their group was becoming too large and cumbersome – they’d been collecting people steadily, but now it was time to split up. Most of the group would head to the lower gateroom level where it should be easier to find a defensible position with the bonus of the armory and infirmary, if not already overrun.

John, Ford, Lt. Akunin, and (after a fierce whispered fight in which Rodney fought dirty) Rodney would try to get to the control room. John and Lorne picked a radio channel for the two of them to share, agreeing to radio silence unless absolutely necessary.

It only took about twenty more minutes to reach the control room, but a lot of fighting. Rodney ducked another staff weapon blast, profoundly grateful for the now-comforting retort of automatic weapons fire. When the last Jaffa fell, their little group still had to flee from the bomb said Jaffa had been setting to break inside.

The heavy blast doors were unharmed, scorch marks the only sign that an attempt had been made. Rodney pulled the broken front panel off the intercom, rewiring what had been damaged in the explosion. “Colonel Sokolov, are you in there?”

“I’m reading two lifesigns, Rodney.”

There was no response, but Rodney tried again. “Is anyone inside? Colonel?”

Lt. Akunin stepped up, repeating Rodney’s questions, but there was still nothing.

“Now what?” Ford asked.

John and the Soviet Lieutenant exchanged a look, but the other man shook his head. “There is no other way in, Major. That is the point.”

“And I suppose that the control for this door is inside.”

“Of course.”

“Of course, he says,” John muttered, mostly to himself, as he paced, “of course.”

Just then, the doors slid open. With a nod from John, Aiden took point, cautiously approaching the doorway. “We’re clear,” he called back as he stepped inside.

Everyone else quickly followed, Lt. Akunin reactivating the blast doors as soon as they were inside. Colonel Sokolov was slumped on the floor by the controls, battered and barely conscious. Rodney figured he had dragged himself over, a trail of blood reinforcing that belief.

The other man was on the far side of the room, unconscious.

Rodney sat down at the computers, trying to find out everything he could about their situation. The others assisted the Colonel, or attempted to, their offers of help ignored as the man struggled to speak.

“You must…evacuate. Everyone you can. I set…set the…self-destruct.”

“But Colonel!” Akunin exclaimed.

“The Goa’uld must not be allowed –” the Colonel broke off, coughing.

“They can’t get off this base,” John finished grimly.

The Colonel nodded. “Alpha site…overrun. Reinforcements came from…that address. I’ll dial. You go…there are –”

“Colonel, I will not leave you,” Akunin insisted. “We will take you with us, treat your wounds once we are offworld.”

“No time,” the Colonel said. “Need to…go. There are others?”

“There are other survivors, yes,” John said. “You know a safe address we can gate to?”

The Colonel coughed again, more weakly. “Zhenya, the supply rooms. Take…everything you can. All…all you…can carry. Throw it through the…everything you find. You need…”

“Yes, Colonel,” Akunin replied. “Of course.”

“Not long…go.”

Rodney stood, shutting open laptops and stacking them up. John looked up, puzzlement turning to understanding and he stood from his crouch beside the Colonel, shedding his jacket.

“In here,” he said as he turned it into a makeshift satchel, proving once again that Rodney loved more than his looks. “You too, Ford.”

Ford copied his CO’s actions, then began gathering as many tablets and drives and cables as he could fit.

They left quickly, the detector indicating no one nearby. “Lorne, sitrep,” John requested as they went.

“Holed up, sir. India, lima.”

“We are bravo, echo, whiskey.”

“Copy that, sir.”

John clicked off, then said, “okay, let’s hustle. Lt. Akunin, how close are these supplies to the gate?”

“The room next door – it’s an emergency supply: food, medical supplies, clothing, everything. All packed for transport.”

“Perfect. Weapons?”

“There’s a locked armory nearby. Where are they?”

“Infirmary.”

“Good,” he said. “We can pick up our people and then gather our supplies. This way.”

Rodney was exhausted, the aches of his body not helped by the near-run John had them travelling at, the computer equipment bulky and heavy. He wasn’t sure how much further he could go, but John turned back and smiled at him, concern in his eyes, and Rodney spurred himself onwards.

Lorne and company were ready to go when they arrived, simply joining in as their small group jogged past. The armory had already been raided but there was still a lot left; they took everything they could carry, loading items onto a few carts they found and continuing on.

There was a brief skirmish as they approached the gateroom, but the Marines lobbed a few of their newly acquired grenades and cleared the opposition away quickly.

Rodney put down his equipment, keeping it out of range of the gate, and headed off to the supply room, listening to John’s shouted instructions. There was soon a large pile of items by the gate, even a few shrink-wrapped pallets, and John signaled to Colonel Sokolov to begin dialing.

“As soon as the wormhole stabilizes, start getting the supplies through,” John shouted. “The Alpha site is not an option, so what we bring is what we have. Bates and Stackhouse, I want you through first – we don’t know what we’re walking into. Lt. Akunin?”

The Lieutenant repeated John’s instructions in Russian, adding two Soviet soldiers to the team heading through to scout.

The stargate lit up, spinning, and the first chevron locked.

“Civilians in the middle, soldiers bring up the rear. Everybody have a pack to carry? Bucket brigade for supplies, right here! As soon as you’re through, clear the path for those that follow.”

The second chevron locked, and the third, and the group scrambled into their backpacks, a few picking up other bags and boxes of supplies to pass and the others falling in line.

As the fifth chevron locked, Rodney glanced down at the detector John had handed over to him a while back. “Shit! We’ve got company coming,” he shouted, and a few of the soldiers ran to the open doorway. They lobbed two grenades and fired a few shots blindly around the corner, pulling in the last of the personnel gathering supplies and quickly shutting the blast doors behind them.

The seventh chevron locked but no wormhole formed. There was an audible cry of dismay from the group, but Rodney knew what that meant. “Goddamnit! John…John he’s dialing Atlantis. We can’t go through, they –”

“I don’t see that we have a choice, Rodney. We have about five minutes until the base implodes, and the path to the control room is cut off.”

The whole room seemed to vibrate and the lights flickered and died as the last chevron – the eighth – engaged. The wormhole burst outward and settled, and Rodney watched the first four of their people run through, lit only by the blue of the wormhole. The supplies were tossed after them, the carts and pallets pushed through and everything else carried as they moved as quickly as possible, people and supplies disappearing into the puddle.

“Go on through, Rodney, get to safety,” John said, still tossing bags.

“Like hell. I’m not going without you,” he replied.

“Alright, time’s up, everybody out!” John shouted, and the soldiers ran to the wormhole, heavily laden, Lorne bringing up the rear.

John grabbed Rodney’s hand, tugging him through.

They exited the wormhole in a large, high-ceilinged room, dark and quiet save for the sounds of their people stacking supplies to either side of the stargate. The light cast by their flashlights showed stairs and an upper level, several corridors leading off to who knew where. John quickly shrugged off his pack and Rodney followed suit, torn between wonder, terror, and bone-deep exhaustion.

The wormhole winked out behind them and John tapped at his radio. “Sgt. Bates, report.”

“Wherever we are, it’s huge, sir. No signs of life – it looks abandoned.”

“Alright, fall back for now. We need to regroup, tend to the wounded.” John turned to Rodney, “Any thoughts on getting us some light?”

“There are probably lights and generators in our supplies, but it will take a while to locate them and get set up.” Rodney spun around, looking. “Radek?”

“Here, Rodney.”

“Ah. A word?” Zelenka walked over to them and Rodney leaned in, pitching his voice low. “Did you know about the Atlantis project?”

“Atlantis like your shuttle or Atlantis like the lost city?”

Rodney gestured to the room around them. “What do you think?”

“You mean –”

“Never mind, obviously not.” Rodney sighed. “I don’t think anyone else who managed to escape was high enough up to know, so we’re completely on our own, here.”

“Well,” John said, stretching the word out. “Atlantis is an Ancient city, right? Maybe I can sweet-talk her into helping us out.”

“Major Sheppard,” Sgt. Bates said, appearing at John’s side, “there are some consoles and screens on the second level. Everything appears Ancient in design, sir. I’d suggest you start there.”

“Alright then, Rodney,” John said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

As soon as they hit the staircase, the steps lit under John’s feet.

“Wow,” he whispered. “Now that’s cool.”

Everything continued to light along his path, and when John swiped his hand over one of the consoles it activated, coming to life beneath his palm. He pressed his hand against it, concentrating, and suddenly the rest of the room was bathed in a soft light that gradually brightened.

“Sergeant,” John asked, “are all of the scouts back?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, first up: head count. Then I want this room secured, a soldier in every doorway. We need time to patch everyone up and figure out a game plan. And send Lorne up here.”

“Yes, sir,” Bates said, already halfway down the stairs.

“Rodney, I’m going to let Lorne initialize these consoles for you – see if you can determine basic functionality, maybe find us a way to secure the gate.”

“On it.”

Lorne approached. “This is pretty incredible, sir.”

“Can you hear her?”

Lorne cocked his head, obviously trying to concentrate. “Don’t think so, sir.”

“It’s faint, just a whisper in the back of my head. She’s been sleeping a long time, and only just waking up, but there’s something important we have to do, soon. Help McKay get the controls up.”

Rodney kept one eye on John as Lorne activated the consoles for him, watching as the Major went from person to person, assigning tasks and getting reports, offering comfort and assistance.

“Hey, Rodney?” John called. “It’s that one.”

Rodney stared at the keys on the just-activated console, trying to decipher which crystal was ‘that one.’ With a shrug he pushed the one on the far right, pleased when an energy shield sprang to life across the gate. He deactivated it, not knowing how much power they had available to them, and made sure Lorne also knew which button to push.

Lorne activated a display screen, and Rodney was shocked to see some words scroll across in Cyrillic. He looked at the underside of the console where the inputs were and noticed a small tablet hooked up…so the Soviets had been here and left, it seemed. Abandoned Atlantis. But why?

John called them back down and told them to get checked by one of the two medical doctors. When everyone had settled in on the floor and snacks and water were distributed, he cleared his throat.

“First things first, is anyone in need of medical attention who hasn’t seen either Katya or Sergei? No? Okay. Sergeant Bates tells me that there are 47 of us here, here being the city of Atlantis. I know that our countries have our differences, and that our two stargate programs are very competitive, but there are 47 of us here and who knows what out there, and we need to work together.”

“This city, Atlantis, was designed by the Ancients. I know that recently, you discovered that there is a specific gene coded to Ancient technology, allowing it to be used only by certain people.”

A few people began muttering, but John quelled them with a look. “I know this because I am one of those people. Yes, we kept our knowledge of this gene secret. So did you. I also know that a number of years ago, the Soviet Union sent an expedition here, to Atlantis. Most of you don’t know this, as it was highly classified. As far as we know, the expedition never contacted Earth again. We don’t know why.”

“I know that this is going to be difficult, and that we’re going to struggle with everything from food to leadership, but I’m willing to work with you if you’re willing to work with me.”

“Thank you, Major,” Lt. Akunin said, moving to stand beside him. “I know that not all of us are happy with the perception that the Americans have taken charge, especially since it was our base and, as you have just said, our expedition that first came here. As the ranking Soviet officer, however, I am grateful that we have a skilled, knowledgeable senior officer here and I know that many of us owe you our lives directly, and that all of us owe you for what you have done to help save our country and our world from our common enemy.”

“Look,” John said, clearly – at least to Rodney’s eyes – embarrassed by the Lieutenant’s words, “everyone here is exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The Lieutenant and I are going to set up a watch schedule and then we’ll all bed down right here for now. Once everyone has gotten some rest we’ll take inventory of our supplies and start forming small teams to explore the building. Okay?”

Rodney settled in against a wall, staving off sleep until John laid down beside him.

*****

When he woke, John was sitting up, staring into the dark.

Rodney flopped his arm towards the other man. “John? What is it?”

“Not sure,” he replied, popping up on his feet. Rodney struggled up after him, trailing John as he wove around their sleeping comrades. He woke Lorne, crouching down to whisper with him.

Lorne got up, too, and the two of them spoke to the Soviet sergeant who was leading the watch. They gathered a few supplies – guns, flashlights, the detector – and motioned for Rodney to follow them down one of the corridors.

“Where are we going?” Rodney asked.

“I think we’re under water,” John replied.

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

John flashed him a quick grin. “There’s no power left, that’s why it’s so hard to hear her. Everything is going to the shields holding the water back.”

“Holding the…oh, God,” Rodney said. “We’re going to drown?”

“Not if I bring us up to the surface first.”

“And how do you plan to do that, oh great and powerful gene-wonder?”

“Well,” John temporized, “if you’d just bear with me for one more minute…aha! Here we are.”

When Rodney stepped into the room John indicated, his jaw dropped. “My God. It’s a control chair.”

“Yup,” John said, grinning like a little boy.

He laid back in the chair and the world lit around him. After only a few moments Rodney could feel a slight tremor, then movement, smooth and swift like an elevator. There was a squawk from Lorne’s radio and he answered, reassuring the watch commander that all was well.

Rodney felt it when they breached the surface, light flooding the corridor behind them as Atlantis settled gently on the water and John’s smile lit the world.

Rodney helped tug him out of the chair and the three of them left the room, Atlantis leading her favored son to a balcony that overlooked the breathtaking scope of the city – larger and more beautiful than Rodney would have ever imagined, a sparkling jewel sitting on the sea.

He turned to John, grinning. “You did it.”

“We did it,” he answered, slinging an arm around Rodney’s shoulders and pressing a quick kiss against his lips. “Come on, let’s head back to the others. Today is a new day.”