TITLE: Friendlies Like These
E-MAIL: eli @ popullus.net
RATING: PG-13
POSTED: Nov. 1, 2004
NOTES: A random bit inspired mostly by the Atlantis crew's ability to tick people off.
DISCLAIMER: Read
The weight of the silence in their puddle jumper was enough to squash Atlas. Not into a teeny, tiny Atlas but a flat one, road kill, pancaked on the ground. The guy's legs would've gone first, John imagined, not his spine; those puny shock absorbers would at least gang up to resist whatever force was against them before buckling under the stress.
His own spine was firm and straight, aligned with a kindly assist from the seat that was facing him the right direction to see where they were going and that had the added benefit of keeping his back to McKay's sullen glare. The silence was pressing in hard enough to keep down any more close-cutting comments, but even without eyes back there John would bet his retirement pay on that glare's existence, especially after the way he'd had to hook a hand in the man's belt and physically drag him away from the elders. Agreeing on the issue didn't mean squat when the locals didn't agree and were about ready to take your head off with a fucking scythe.
"That makes us five and twelve, sir."
Swearing aloud, John pulled the ship up level again, negating the Ancient controls' hiccup of a response to his surprise.
"What?" McKay jumped into the opening. "Five what? Twelve what?"
"Five good. Twelve bad." The blandness that had cushioned Ford's first statement was gone from his voice now. "We're not doing very well. Sir."
"No, we're not, lieutenant." John felt the thin smile stretch his mouth, but he determinedly kept his eyes front as the trees fell away beneath them, shrinking into "foliage," and then "land." That was a much better idea than turning and actually seeing the accusation in Ford's little pause. "Thanks for pointing that out."
"Okay," McKay snapped, "somebody's going to explain so that I can stop being tired, irritated, and out of the loop, and just go back to being really pissed off."
"Oh, for-- Try using your brain, McKay, instead of just holding it over everyone."
Silence again; somewhat stunned, this time.
Blowing out an irritated breath, John pushed the controls forward as far as they would go. Damn, it would be nice if he could get some good old fashioned G-forces out of this thing. As handy as the dampeners or whatever were -- when talking "warp" instead of "Mach," pressure suits weren't going to be much help -- he could really use feeling the acceleration that should go with the increased speed right now. Give him something real here.
"I believe what Lieutenant Ford is referring to is the results of our latest attempts at outreach," Teyla offered from behind Ford
Yes, ever the peacemaker. And it sounded so reasonable, coming in her low voice with her careful enunciation. So reasonable and so true, and it bugged the hell out of him that it bugged him that she said it.
"Oh, delightful," McKay said brightly. "So, do share. Are we ahead or behind the other teams?"
"There is no 'ahead' or 'behind.'" John's scowl didn't disappear as the cloudy sky around them quickly faded and gave way to stars. The sun caught the curve of the 'gate in the distance. Good. Just another minute and at least they'd be back on Atlantis, not stuck about to explode out of this tin can. That'd be fun, arguing while breathing vacuum. "I have to keep track, just like Weir has to keep track. We'd all better be keeping track, or we're going to end up in an even bigger mess when the big shit hits and the Wraith are sucking on our souls, maybe thanks to all the people we've managed to antagonize."
"Well, we didn't antagonize these people. At least...not until the very end with all the yelling," McKay said in the same borderline-reasonable tone, and John fought off the impulse to silently mimic the taunt. "They're simply clueless and, therefore, useless."
There was a clatter: Ford swinging around in his seat, his weapon glancing off the console. "They're not clueless," he insisted, still as defensive on behalf of the Sentarians up here as he had been on the ground.
After a quick look, John held off from interfering; the kid wasn't making like he was going to get into it with McKay again and, hell, a little venting might help.
"Just because they're still a farming society doesn't make them any less aware of the problem the Wraith pose," Ford said.
"Yes, well, their form of defense is apparently to make sure the Wraith fill up on the rest of us before they get to Sentaria," McKay shot back. "And they were absolutely thrilled to discover there's a whole planet full of new people, weren't they? I haven't wasted the time to calculate the odds that they think Atlantis should take their place on the buffet table, but I can if you want."
"They have to realize that it doesn't matter how many planets are out there, the Wraith aren't going to go back into hibernation until they've culled them all!"
"Okay, been 'round this block already," John muttered. He took a deep breath and waded back in.
"We tried making that point," he reminded them. "We tried it on every village elder we could get our hands on, and they all turned their backs and waved 'buh-bye,' while making sure to slam the door on our ass." He released the controls just long enough to wiggle a hand in demonstration.
"They are simply not used to outsiders coming to their planet," Teyla said, helping out again with the soothing comment.
McKay's laugh was quick and harsh.
"That's my entire point, only I wasn't keeping count, silly me. Don't you get it? Don't you see what it means, all those planets telling us to take a hike?" Another laugh as he added, "That is if they're not outright running us off or trying to kill us themselves."
"They are not all--"
"It's no wonder the people in this galaxy keep getting cut down to near extinction. The only thing keeping you all from dying out completely is that the Wraith aren't idiots!"
"I beg your pardon?"
Great. Now Teyla was joining them in the crowded pissed-and-ready-to-snap camp. That was the signal for "all done, here."
"Hey!" John barked, and in the second of indrawn breaths to make their cases, he ordered, "Let it go. Now."
When that got five straight seconds of silence, he tapped the console twice. "Ford, dial."
Ford huffed out a quiet, "Yes, sir," and turned back around to face front and put in the address.
And that really might have been it, but on an even more frustrated noise--
"Come on, it's not like you guys don't have a way to communicate," McKay said, apparently intent on antagonizing the only Pegasus native fully on their side. "Did it never occur to anyone to band together in those 500 or so years they give you?"
Lining up with the 'gate, John warned, "McKay..."
"There is a necessary time of mourning--"
"Yeah, how long? A year? Two? And then, what, you're too busy making all the babies you--"
"McKay!" John risked twisting around just long enough to pin the man with a glare.
The silence slammed down as Ford punched in the IDC. It stuck around like a bad stink as they slid through the shimmer. Not even the usual sudden, soft stop, just short of the gateroom wall, could shake it loose.
Screw Atlas, John decided. He'd only had one world to worry about.
**
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