Blood Ties

Chapter nine

"You know what would improve this place immeasurably? A duty-free store."

Radek opened a cabinet, stuck his arm in up to the shoulder, and came up with a handful of oatmeal cream pies. "Atlantis does not charge an import tax, but your point is well taken. I, too, was hoping fora shopping opportunity."

"I sent one of the more eager airmen off to the nearest Starbucks to stock up for us." Rodney perched on a stepstool to inventory the contents of the highest shelf.

"Most likely he will not make it back in time," Radek warned, catching the pack of pudding cups Rodney tossed down to him. "We are set to leave in less than half an hour."

"If that's the case, he can put it in my locker for our next visit. Given the size and scope of the current crisis, the odds are exceedingly good that we'll be on M1M-316 for about two minutes before being summarily ordered right back here." A large coffee can sat on the counter. Rodney examined the generic label and blew out an aggrieved sigh. "If we need to muddle through with this slag for a while, I suppose it's a sacrifice we'll have to make."

"Martyrs, all," Radek agreed dryly, sliding the can across to join the collection of snacks accumulating on the counter.

The door of the SGC mess hall's stockroom swung open. "We have authorization to do this!" Rodney called defensively, tensing on instinct.

"No, you don't." Sheppard strolled in and started perusing the shelves. "And neither do I, so how about keeping this just between us pals?"

"Areasonable arrangement. In case you wondered, the popcorn is in the third cabinet from the right." Radek tipped his head to indicate the correct location.

Breaking into a sly grin, the Colonel headed in that direction.

"So what did your FBI acquaintance have to say about our unlocked secrets of the universe once she picked her exceptionally well-formed jaw up off the floor?" asked Rodney.

"She's still getting the Stargate 101 crash course from Elizabeth and Dr. Jackson. All I've heard out of her since she first saw the gate room was a mumble along the lines of `They're trying to reach the Stargate. "'

"`They' being the Wraith-succubus-whatever?"

"I guess. Seems like kind of a big leap to me, but then I'm not an FBI profiler who's been on the trail of these things for years."

"Years?" Rodney paused and glanced down at him. Now that he fully grasped the situation, it seemed conceivable that deaths of a similar nature might have been exasperating authorities for generations. "Hmm. I suppose that tracks, given the context "

A stack of microwave popcorn packets tucked into the crook of his arm, Sheppard eyed the large can in the scientists' pile of loot. "Don't we have plenty of coffee on Atlantis?"

"In the mess hall, yes. The inventory control officer, however, tends to get very unpleasant when anyone borrows from the citywide supply. You never should have given that job to a Marine. Have you seen her biceps'? Anyway, we keep a separate stash and a coffeemaker in the labs. It's inefficient to keep going to the mess for refills."

Rodney climbed down from the stepstool and surveyed their take. "This will have to do. As much as I appreciate the opportunity to replenish some of our most critical stores, this visit has been little more than a waste of time and effort. We've accomplished nothing other than acting as bit players to your obligatory weekly Kirk moment. You were correct in your assessment that Radek and I, not Ronon and Teyla, should have been sent to 316 at the outset, but hey, as long as those in charge can make themselves feel better by yanking us around…"

"At the risk of sounding like an apologist for the brass," Sheppard said, leaning against the counter, "the IOA reacted to this threat pretty much the way you did. They hit the panic button."

Wasn't that just typical? "I did not panic," Rodney explained with far more patience than his teammate deserved. "You know I don't function well in enclosed spaces. Add that to the lemon scented booby trap planted in the SUV, which was just asinine-please tell me the base motor pool isn't in charge of pre-flighting our ride home. It would complete my day to discover that some enthusiastic airman decided to polish Jumper One's windshield with lemon Windex."

"Like I said," Sheppard continued evenly, helping Radek load their supplies into a cardboard box appropriated from a neglected corner. "They panicked, and they told all of us supposed Wraith experts to hike our asses back to Earth and do something about it. The mission to 316 was set up as standard recon because the only thing we could be sure of finding there was a really big carnivore. It's an understandable response, knee-jerk or not." He shook his head as he hefted the box up from the floor. "That said, our friends in the IOA need to wake up and recognize that Teyla and Ronon are two of our very best people for the job back here. Being an Earth native shouldn't be an exclusive requirement."

"As long as we're on the subject of bestowing enlightenment on the IOA, it would be nice if they would spring you loose to come back with us. I'm surprised Elizabeth agreed to let them borrow you." When Sheppard didn't respond right away, Rodney glanced over at him. "Did she have a choice?"

"Tough to say." The sudden tightness in the Colonel's features was a clear signal to drop the subject.

Deciding he might as well lead, Rodney started toward the door. He paused only briefly to grab one last item, a small package of cookies that had fallen behind a row of cans on a shelf. "Oh, jackpot." He ripped the foil open. "Ancients and Ori be damned. Divine light surely shone upon whoever invented Oreos."

"Preach it," Sheppard agreed, relaxing a little. "Save one for me."

After that crack about panicking? Not likely. Rather than reply, Rodney crammed a cookie into his mouth and stepped out into the corridor, the others trailing behind.

Stargate Command was an odd facility, in his view, and not merely by virtue of its mission. Its layout, with numerous levels and narrow tunnels leading every which way, might give an observer the impression that it was short staffed. Only in cases of emergency-granted, around here `emergency' was a common condition-were more than a few personnel ever seen in one place. In fact, the SGC boasted a sizable research staff, but it was dispersed among many separate labs and offices, each enclosed by concrete. Quite a test for a dedicated claustrophobic, though that wasn't Rodney's primary worry. As competent an organization as it was, there were times when he wasn't fully convinced that the program's right hand knew what its left was doing. Since his life frequently depended on the knowledge and proficiency of the people in this building, he found distractions like the IOA to be irritating at best, dangerous at worst.

"Dr. Lam has only just confirmed that the enzyme found in both of last night's victims is a variant of the Wraith enzyme." Radek seemed to be addressing Sheppard. "Additionally, evidence supports Carson's theory that a variant of the iratus gene exists in humans and may be triggered through as yet to be determined circumstances. If that is so, its presence could be subtler than Teyla's ability could detect. Tracking a pureblood Wraith on a sparsely populated planet is one thing. This…is something else."

"In which case I don't see why Jackson can't link up his investigation into Lilith's history on Earth with whatever leads the FBI agent has been tracking." Rodney swallowed the last of his cookie and picked up his pace. There was a rustling sound as the Colonel adjusted his grip on the box. "There's no need for you stay here and play Fox Mulder with them."

"Wasn't I Kirk just a second ago?"

"When MIM-316 was last discussed, I believe you made it clear that you would under no circumstances explore any world populated by, and I quote, `school bus sized carnivores."' Radek had adopted an overly patient tone that set Rodney's teeth on edge. "There may have been mention of a traumatic childhood experience in a museum."

That tore it. Rodney spun around, nearly knocking the box out of Sheppard's arms in the process, and jabbed a finger at Radek. "You know what? I've had it with you lording all your inside information over me. Atlantis has an organizational chain, and one person in that chain who should never be bypassed when dealing with issues of scientific merit and risk is the head of science! Why was I kept out of the loop on this virus?"

Radek glanced at the other member of their trio, no doubt expecting backup. Sheppard didn't oblige, however. "Sorry, Radek. Same question from the military side."

"No information was withheld. I assure you, Colonel." Before Rodney could protest the fact that Radek appeared less interested in convincing him than in convincing Sheppard, the conversation moved on. "This is the nature of research in a new galaxy. Every day we are making new discoveries. Some lead to results of obvious significance; others are more difficult to categorize. While Dr. Weir reads a summary of each report before forwarding it to the SGC, no one person could possibly keep abreast of all our fields of study."

"If you believe that, you've underestimated my commitment and certainly my capabilities." Rodney had always tried to give his subordinates space to work. Evidently he'd allowed too far much latitude if things like this were getting missed. "From now on, I want weekly updates on all ongoing projects, starting with yours."

"You'll be committed then, that's for sure," Sheppard mut tered.

So much for solidarity. Rodney ignored him, walking past him to the elevator and swiping his security card.

Shaking his head, Radek said, "If you wish to increase your tyranny and eliminate sleep from your schedule, be my guest. Micromanagement will not prevent situations such as the one we now face. None of us could have anticipated this-not even you."

And that was the crux of the problem, wasn't it? There was a reasonable chance that Radek was right, that Rodney learning of the virus earlier would have changed nothing. But they'd never know, and Rodney despised the unknown.

The elevator doors opened, and he did his best to shift his focus back to the here and now. Sheppard stepped inside first, and Radek reached in front of him to press the button for the jumper bay.

"For the time being, what matters is getting back to Atlantis." Rodney watched the lights for each floor blink sequentially, not fast enough for his liking. "Also, Dr. Lam will reduce my stress levels considerably when she examines the DNA records from all of our people-" chiefly, me, he chose not to say aloud-"and confirms that the expedition is free of the virus."

Radek offered a wholly unnecessary clarification. "Fragments of the virus, you mean."

"Of course I meant fragments. I hardly think any of us has been harboring the complete unadulterated virus…" A restrained cough from Radek triggered awareness. Wincing, Rodney turned toward his team leader. "Sorry. In retrospect, that shouldn't have been quite so flippant a response °"

"No sweat." Sheppard gave a taut smile but kept his gaze forward. "Glad someone could forget." Just before the doors slid open, he deposited their box of provisions in Rodney's hands. Great. Well, it wasn't as if they had to pass through any kind of security screening to take this flight.

Elizabeth was waiting in the jumper bay, talking with the lieutenant who'd chauffeured her to the SGC days earlier. Upon noticing the arrival of the rest of the group, the lieutenant quickly moved to Jumper Three's pilot seat and began working through the preflight checklist.

A brief, cool glance passed between Atlantis's leader and her military commander. Elizabeth quickly shifted her gaze to Rodney, studying his cargo with amused tolerance. "Critical supplies, gentlemen?"

"You'd better believe it." Rodney lugged the box over to Jumper Three and dumped it just inside the hatch. In his peripheral vision he noticed Landry approaching the group with long strides. "Although I can't say I'm entirely thrilled with the notion of being sent to M1M-316, a place where the average resident has teeth the size of my arm, without my team leader."

"Relax, Rodney. Lome knows better than to let anything snack on you." Sheppard's guardedly wry tone was less than convincing.

"Be that as it may…" Rodney lingered on the ramp of Jumper Three, wanting to push further but not sure what he was up against. He had the distinct impression that there was more behind the decision to keep Sheppard on Earth than the mere fact that he happened to be vaguely acquainted with the FBI agent. The closed expression now worn by both the Colonel and the General served to confirm it.

For his friend's ears only, Rodney said, "This isn't the way it's supposed to work."

"Yeah, well, mine is not to reason why, and all that jazz." Matching his low volume, Sheppard responded to Rodney's intent as much as his statement. "Thank you. Now drop it. And put that popcorn in my quarters, or I'll kick your ass and then tattle to Teyla."

Reluctantly Rodney gave in and closed his mouth. They all could take care of themselves for a while, Sheppard included.

"Mr. Woolsey will be anxiously awaiting your report from M1M-316," Landry told Rodney and Radek tersely before turning to Sheppard. "Colonel, we have a slight change of plans. I need you and Agent Larance to accompany Dr. Jackson. He believes he knows where to find records of what this Lilith might have done after she evacuated to Earth."

"I thought he already knew." Radek's brow furrowed.

Rodney was only marginally gratified by that reaction. It appeared Radek was not entirely conversant with every aspect of this situation, either.

"In general terms. Given the information just recently provided by Agent Larance, it's beginning to look as though the details are a bit more complicated." Landry rolled his eyes. "Imagine my surprise. The original plan was for Colonel Sheppard to assist Agent Larance in continuing her investigation. Now that the good doctor has been briefed on the Stargate and in turn provided us with some very specific details that may be of some use, the IOA has asked her and the Colonel to go along with Dr. Jackson."

And the IOA always got what it asked for, didn't it?

Landry called into Jumper Three's cockpit. "Lieutenant, you have a go. Dr. Weir, we'll bump up the check-in schedule to once every twelve hours. Good luck."

"Safe trip," added Sheppard, hands clasped behind his back in a very military and uncharacteristic manner.

"You, too," Elizabeth echoed quietly.

Somewhat mollified, if not entirely certain he had grasped the entire picture, Rodney settled on a jerky wave as he activated the control to raise the jumper's hatch.

Over the hum of the mechanism, her heard Sheppard ask the General, "Sir, where exactly would a member of SG-1 and an FBI agent need to be accompanied by another field trained officer?"

Rodney had wondered that same thing. The hatch sealed, obscuring Landry's reply. Radek, though, had kept a more careful watch through the narrowing gap, and now he drew back with a wary expression.

"Did he just say Baghdad?"