Tony shoved the paper in front of Rodney. “Here. Sign this.”

Rodney looked up, and Tony felt a jab of worry. Rodney had bags under his eyes, and he looked like death warmed over, even as he seemed too hyped to sit still. If he were sitting in an interrogation room, Tony would accuse him of being high as a kite. As it was, Tony still suspected Rodney had something more potent than coffee going on.

The worst part was he couldn't really do much about it. Colonel Hardass had no interest in anything that wasn't directly related to the war with the Wraith. Usually Tony would have counted on Gibbs to handle the hardass Marine, but Everett had confined Gibbs to quarters. Worse, Gibbs was being understanding and talking about crises and the need to not distract the new Marines from Earth who likely wouldn’t be comfortable with an onac in their gunnery sergeant. Personally, Tony didn’t give a rat’s ass about some butthurt Marines.

So it was time for Tony to start doing a little undermining. Well, him and a committee of civilians who had all pledged to try and return Atlantis to a civilian city. If it weren’t for the way Weir kept giving Samas thoughtful looks, Tony could even enjoy this game of civilians versus military, especially since he would bet on civilians every time. Military people had too many rules, and the average civilian was a tricky little shit. With Samas and Ladon on their team, they went from tricky to downright diabolical.

“What am I signing?” Rodney asked as he pulled the paper closer.

“A formal complaint.”

“A what?” Rodney looked up with an expression of alarm. “Why?”

“Because certain Marines have started to taunt you with references to your mouth, what you should do with your mouth, and a disturbing number of references to your ass. I mean, you have a nice ass, McKay, but should Marines really be commenting on it?”

“It's the idiotic posturing of stupid little minds.” Rodney made a face. “Sheppard said to ignore it, that they’re upset because they think I’m gay.”

“Given the number of gay looks you give Sheppard, that’s probably true,” Tony admitted, and he didn’t miss the shock on Rodney’s face. Okay, so clearly Rodney hadn’t realized he’d been mooning over the major. Interesting.

“What? I haven’t… We…” Rodney spluttered into silence and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Hey, I’m all in favor of mooning over guys in uniform, and trust me, Sheppard does his own version of mooning over you when he thinks no one is watching.”

All the defensiveness sort of drained out of Rodney. “Really?” There was a pained hopefulness there that made Tony uncomfortable.

“Would I lie to you, Rod?”

“Yes.”

Tony cringed. “Okay, I probably deserved that. But, I’m not lying about this. And honestly, the Marines are probably acting like asses because they’re trying to defend Sheppard’s honor. Thank god it isn’t the Atlantis Marines doing it, or Gibbs would kick their asses when he got cleared to train them again.” When. Tony was very firmly thinking that it was a “when” he got cleared and not an “if.”

“Right. Like that makes a difference. It never changes, you know. Military people always think they can push everyone else around just because they have weapons.” Rodney stabbed at his laptop, hitting each key with violent little jabs.

“Which is why we teach them different,” Tony said with a smile.

Rodney finally figured out that something was going on. He gave up on typing and narrowed his eyes as he looked at Tony. “What are you doing?”

“My job?” Tony gave Rodney a bright smile, not even pretending that it was the truth. It was almost charming how clueless Rodney was, so Tony tried to avoid confusing him too much. True, sometimes it was fun to screw with Rodney's head, but not today. With as much stress as he was under, his head might pop off. “Look, Teyla and I were talking.”

“Talking?”

“Yes, talking. That thing that people do with their mouths.” Tony dropped into the chair closest to Rodney. “People from Earth have two modes, war and home. When they're at war, they only care about fighting. Then they go home and expect to be safe.”

“And?” Rodney's hand was trembling as it rested against the edge of his laptop, but he was really, honestly paying attention to Tony.

“And Everett is trying to stop life from happening or civilians from living in their normal homes or people from farming without a guard standing over them because he's stuck in war mode.”

Rodney's body tensed up. “We are at war. Did you see Ford? Before he stole a shuttle and ran off, did you see him? And that guy... the one whose name I don't even know. He's like a hundred.”

Tony sighed. Damn Everett for ordering the shield down, even for a few seconds. Yes, they'd taken out three hives, and even the Hoff and the Athosians believed the price was worth it, but they'd lost too many. Seven civilians and four military dead, Ford overdosed with Wraith enzyme and missing in action, and three more military in the infirmary after losing decades of life. Carson still wasn't sure if this was the sort of injury a body recovered from, or if the people genuinely were as old as they appeared.

Samas insisted that he could help by sampling the patients' hormone levels, but Everett had vetoed that suggestion rather soundly. As much as Gibbs was trying to respect Everett’s position, Samas wanted to gut the man, and Tony wasn’t entirely sure that was hyperbole.

“Rodney,” Tony said softly, “this comes under the category of people, and we both agree that I'm better with people, right?”

Rodney got a mulish expression on his face, but he didn't disagree.

“People can't be always stuck in this war mode. Teyla's people live every day in the shadow of the Wraith, but they don't put their lives on hold. Everett is asking us to set everything to one side and focus on the Wraith.”

“Hello! They're Wraith. We have to focus on them,” Rodney snapped. Tony reached out and caught a flailing hand, and Rodney froze. It was like turning off a switch. Yeah, he had something chemical going on with him. Tony made a mental note to talk to Carson.

“We also have to live, Rodney. We may be fighting the Wraith for the next hundred years. We can't put everything on hold. Teyla's right that our way of thinking doesn't work in this universe, so we have to get Everett and his goons to start seeing this as same-old, same-old. We have to get them to start living and stop treating us civilians like we're some obstacle in the way of their grand battle.”

The corner of Rodney's mouth pulled down into a frown. Tony had known Rodney since Area 51, and no one had more respect for how much he'd grown, but sometimes Tony really hated how damn stubborn the man could be.

“Rodney, we need a break. We need to have a movie night or go off-world to trade our eggs or just a day off. Elizabeth is declaring a day of mourning for our dead and having a memorial in the main hall. She’s inviting all the civilians down. Teyla, Holling, Amta, Ladon, and Vish are all helping her plan a ceremony based off traditional rituals. We’ll take the day off and remember the dead and celebrate our victories, and remind everyone that we still have to keep living.”

“Day off,” Rodney echoed in a dismissive voice that made it clear he didn't expect to get one of those any time soon.

“What are you working on, anyway? I never see you in the lunch room.”

For a second, Rodney seemed to lose focus. If Tony had to guess, he would guess that Rodney was on stimulants. People always underestimated how much the over the counter or prescription stuff would screw a person up. “Everett wants to find more drones. I have to find a way to fire them without taking down the shield.” Rodney's eyes darted off to the side as if expecting to see a Wraith appear. Yeah, he was not tracking well.

“We all need some time off. This isn't a war that can be won before we go home, Rodney. This is just the way the Pegasus galaxy works.”

Rodney frowned and pulled his hand away from Tony. “Then we have to make it work differently.”

Tony sighed. The problem with Rodney was that he was so smart he wasn’t used to having to accept failure. That was one lesson life had taught Tony, and he wasn’t sure how to share it. “Maybe we can, Rod, but not in the next two weeks, and I’m not going to let Everett’s goons get away with talking to you like that in your own city. It’s against the law, and it’s a clear violation of code of conduct.”

“And what can you do about it? Hello… you’re not military.” For one horrible second, all Rodney’s misery shone through.

“I’m worse. I’m NCIS. I’m a cop, Rodney. I can write reports that can tank their careers, particularly if I have evidence, and these assholes don’t know where all the security cameras are. I can investigate Everett himself. I’m not military, but I’m not just here as the local light switch, Rod. I’m a cop, and these guys are about to find out what happens when you piss off a cop.” Tony grinned at him. “Now sign the complaint so I can go hand our overlords their asses on a plate. And then Elizabeth and Teyla can show them how little control they have over civilians, and somewhere along the way, we will teach Everett to see us as something other than the furniture that’s in the way of his big, bad Marines. Got it?”

Rodney stared at him for an uncomfortably long time. “Got it,” he finally agreed.

“Good. Now sign.” Tony pushed a pen over, and Rodney took it, signing the printed page with a shaky hand. “If any of them try to talk to you, you ask for me. You are the complainant here, and that means you do not talk to suspects or persons of interest in the investigation. That includes Everett.”

“But—”

“Nope,” Tony cut him off. “Everett has lost his human being privileges. We took a vote. Teyla cast yours for you since you won’t come out of the lab, and we all voted him asshole most in need of an attitude adjustment, and he is officially exiled from the human race until he gets one. Don’t talk to him.”

For a second, Rodney pressed his lips together, and Tony waited for the arguing to start. Rodney surprised him. “Fine, but this isn’t going to end well,” he warned.

“It will end better than it will if we let Everett ride roughshod over us,” Tony said gently. Samas had made that argument very eloquently, and not even Gibbs could convince the stubborn old onac to give Everett the benefit of the doubt. It was strange, but Gibbs was the only one of the Atlantis crew to stick up for Everett, and Tony didn’t know if those two had history, if Gibbs was just sticking up for a fellow Marine, or if he really did understand Everett’s obsessive need to control everything. It honestly didn’t matter, though, because Gibbs had been outvoted.

“Fine. Whatever. I have work to do, work that is actually important, so go away,” Rodney ordered him.

“Now that’s the cranky scientist we all know and love,” Tony said. He grabbed the paperwork and fled before Rodney decided that he did have a list of reasons why Tony was stupid. As much as Tony understood Rodney, he didn’t need his own insecurity issues poked.

 

Tony took a good two days to collect his evidence. He was finishing up taking a statement from Miko Kusanagi when Sheppard appeared at his door and leaned against the side.

“Sheppard,” Tony said with a smile. He stood and offered Miko his hand. “Thank you so much. This is really helpful.”

She stood up and accepted it solemnly, shaking it once. “They should not speak in such a manner about Dr. McKay. He works hard to make sure all of us are always safe.”

“I know.”

“He needs more rest.”

“Yes, I talked to Carson about that.”

Miko made a little unhappy noise at that, and then offered him a very quick and aborted bow. “I shall go, then,” she turned and practically fled. Tony knew she was simply hurrying from place to place because she was busy, and his meeting had interrupted her work; however, she still gave the constant impression that she was fleeing something that was trailing just behind her.

“Tony…” Sheppard said, drawling the name in a way that suggested that the major was less than happy.

“Yep?”

“What are you doing?”

Tony sat down behind his desk and opened his laptop. He had security footage that was visual confirmation of intimidation, but no audio, and now he had statements from six different scientists who had witnessed four different Marines harass Rodney on six different occasions. “Right now I would say I’m building a very strong case,” Tony said.

“Please tell me that you’re talking about a crate.”

Tony gave him a dirty look, and Sheppard sagged more. “Well crap.” He walked into the room and closed the door with a flick of a thought that Tony could feel through his own connection to the city. It was strange. He always knew where Sheppard was and how Sheppard was interacting with the city, even if he couldn’t feel any of the other gene carriers the same way.

“I have a job to do, major.”

Sheppard dropped down into the witness chair across from Tony’s desk. He’d set the place up more like his desk back in Peoria than NCIS, but it worked. “Everett is not happy,” Sheppard warned him.

“I’ve pissed off people in positions higher than him,” Tony pointed out very honestly.

Sheppard leaned forward. “You’re putting Rodney in the middle, DiNozzo. I was starting to get those idiots in line, and now they’re talking about how Rodney had to go whining to a cop.”

Tony tried hard to rein in a gut level need to call Sheppard an asshole. Rodney was the only person not to blame for this whole mess… well, except that he did tend to call people idiots which sometimes set bullies off, but if Marines couldn’t keep control of their tempers, that was not Rodney’s fault.

“I witnessed a crime, I have evidence of a crime, Everett can be as unhappy as he wants.”

Sheppard brought both hands down on Tony’s desk. Hard. “Damn it, he can’t touch you! Who do you think he’s going to take it out on?”

“He should take it out on his Marines, since they’re the ones so offended by a little homosexuality that they feel a need to act like assholes about it.” Tony had even tried diverting their attention to himself. Pointing out that he wasn’t having sex with a gunny, he was just using a gunnery sergeant’s body to have sex with an onac had been particularly amusing, but in the end, they knew he was NCIS. They knew they couldn’t push him too far without risking their careers. They didn’t understand that Rodney’s friends would rally around him and that fucking with McKay would lead to an even quicker case of career suicide.

“Tony, you know that’s not going to happen. You have to get people to back off. Everett is running out of patience.”

“You mean he has any?”

Sheppard’s face lost all emotion and he stared at Tony with deadly calm. “Everett has told the Marines to take up positions around the city. If civilians attempt to congregate in the main hall, he has ordered the Marines to return them to the main dormitories under lock and key. They have authorization to use force, Tony. This is out of hand.”

“Elizabeth is still in charge of civilians.”

“Everett only has to point up to the sky to prove that we’re in a military situation. The Wraith are still firing on us. The trick with the Asgard transport beam is not going to work again. We’re out of drones. The research on the Wraith darts is nowhere near finished. DiNozzo, this base is a powder keg, and you are threatening to light a match.”

Tony leaned back and looked at Sheppard. The man looked like death warmed over, but then Everett had run him ragged. There wasn’t a person on Atlantis who hadn’t heard that Everett had been friends with Sumner and blamed John for the Colonel’s death. And Tony got it. He understood that feeling of helpless rage knowing your friend had died and you hadn’t done anything to stop it. He still remembered the flecks of warmth on his skin, the sight of Kate falling like her strings had been cut, the cold knife of desperation cutting into his guts. He understood Everett, but he sure as hell didn’t approve of the way the man publicly tore down every decision John had ever made while in command.

“How long can we keep going like this?” Tony asked.

Sheppard ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s been better lately,” he muttered. Better. Yeah, ever since Everett had ordered the shield down, he’d been better. He’d come face to face with a Wraith. He’d seen his men turn into withered husks. Hell, maybe the man had figured out that John had offered Sumner a mercy with that bullet. Who knows?

“It’s not good enough,” Tony pointed out. “Atlantis isn’t a tank you can lock up tight, and that’s how he’s treating us. Besides, I’m not going to stand for his soldiers breaking the law, not on my shift. Next contact with Earth, I’m sending through the paperwork and requesting arrest warrants on Peters, Nelson-Wright, and Dupree. You can warn Everett or not, but I won’t stand back and let them turn this into their own private playground.”

Sheppard frowned. “If this backfires, and Rodney gets hurt, I’m coming after your hide, DiNozzo.”

“That could be interpreted as threatening a federal agent.”

Sheppard smiled. “Oh, it’s not a threat. It’s a warning. Make sure that when you send that, you have the ability to keep McKay safe or Gibbs is going to be spending a lot of time searching for your pieces.”

Sheppard stood and strode out without another word. Tony leaned back in his seat and let his eyes fall closed. He might learn to hate Sheppard, only every time Sheppard touched a wall, Tony could feel the desperation, the frustration, the fear and the longing all seeping into Atlantis’ skin. Tony wondered if the other gene carriers could feel this. The few times that Tony had tried to ask Miko, she’s stared at him blankly, so either she didn’t feel it or she was a lot better at lying than he gave her credit for.

The military hierarchy had trapped Sheppard. This time, Sheppard couldn’t save the city, so it was up to the rest of them. Teyla and Weir and Tony and Vish and all the others were going to have to find a way to pry the military away from the controls. Samas had warned them that power tends to harden over time and that whoever held the power the longest had a distinct advantage that sometimes couldn’t be overcome. They all understood that his warning came from experience, and they all agreed that the power couldn’t harden in the hands of the military.

Now Tony had to do his part and hope the others did theirs.

And if Sheppard was right about Everett sending Marines out against their own people… well Tony wasn’t sure how that would end, but he had to trust Samas, Weir and Teyla to handle that news. He had paperwork to complete if he wanted his warrants.

Rodney strode toward the Stargate controls. “Move,” he snapped at the nameless lieutenant at the controls. It should be Grodin up here, but no. And Elizabeth should be in her office, watching everything, but instead she was on Earth trying to get someone to put their damn Colonel Macho on a leash.

“Excuse me?” The lieutenant demanded.

Rodney put on his best annoyed expression. “Power overloads, exploding crystals, losing all access to the Stargate, does any of this mean anything to you,” he snapped, holding up his repair kit. He carefully didn't claim any of that was true here.

“I haven't gotten any anomalous readings.” The lieutenant looked down at the console.

“And you have how many PhDs? Oh yes, we will definitely trust all our technology to you as opposed to the head of the science department.” Rodney physically shoved in, and the guy rolled away in his chair.

“Chair. Gimmie. I'm not killing my back over your console,” Rodney demanded. Thank god for the military kneejerk reaction to authority because the lieutenant got up and handed the chair over. “And down breath down my neck. I swear. The quality of the Marines we're getting just keeps dropping lower every day. Next thing you know they're going to be sending twelve year olds with an IQ equivalent to a monkey.”

Rodney stopped and eyed the very young lieutenant, making it clear that as far as Rodney was concerned, that day may have already come. And now it was time to prove it. Rodney hit the lockdown protocols he'd created.

“What are you doing?” the lieutenant asked as Rodney started dialing the gate.

“Really? Are you that stupid?” Rodney rolled his eyes as the eighth chevron locked.

“You can't do that!” The lieutenant lurched forward only to hit the forcefield Rodney had activated and bounce off.

“Sure I can. I have the dialing device. You don't. Therefore, I can dial Earth, and you can't stop me.” Rodney would have been enjoying this a whole lot more if he wasn't so fucking miserable in general. Hell, he might be signing his own dismissal here, but he didn't care anymore. He couldn't keep going the way they were. Tony had been wrong. Dead wrong. And Elizabeth and Teyla had been wrong. Things were so much worse now, and Rodney couldn’t take it anymore.

“Stargate Command, this is Dr. Rodney McKay in Atlantis. Get General O'Neill on the line immediately.” Rodney didn't bother asking for Elizabeth. It was pretty clear she didn't have any power because she'd gone back to Earth and hadn't gotten anyone to budge. It was time for the big guns.

General Landry appeared on the video. “Dr. McKay? Where is Colonel Everett?”

“Not important. Where is General O'Neill?” Rodney demanded.

“Excuse me? What do you think you're doing Dr. McKay?”

Rodney pulled MREs out of his toolkit. “I am leaving this wormhole open and redialing every thirty-eight minutes until you get me General O'Neill. Leave me here long enough, and who knows, maybe I'll find a way to keep a wormhole open indefinitely. I'm motivated. You don't want to see what an astrophysicist can do when he'd motivated.”

The general looked past McKay to the lieutenant hovering behind him. “Lieutenant Anders, you are ordered to take Dr. McKay into custody.”

“Sir, I can't. He has a force field up.”

General Landry's face did a complete emotional shutdown. “Dr. McKay,” he said slowly.

“Nope. I'm not listening. I want General O'Neill. Now. Or I just keep dialing back in.”

“We have people out there who need to come home!” Landry snapped.

“I have people in here!” McKay snapped back, and then he cut the audio. Landry was still shouting, but McKay didn't have to listen to it. He broke open the first MRE and started eating as he watched.

“Dr. McKay, what are you doing? Do you have any idea how much trouble you're going to be in?”

“Yep,” Rodney answered. “And since I'm one of only two engineers who is still on the job, Everett can throw me in a jail cell and then let the city sink. I'm past caring. I haven't slept in two and a half days, and I'm pretty sure that I'm on the verge of a full psychotic episode, so don't poke me.”

“I think we passed the verge a while back,” the lieutenant said, and then he tried to go over to the other console. The force field blocked him, and he finally ended up leaning against the railing. “This is stupid,” he muttered.

“The monkey finally says something intelligent,” Rodney said, “although we probably don't agree on who’s to blame.”

“Probably not.” The lieutenant crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you locked down the transporters?”

“And all the doors between major sectors,” Rodney agreed. “You really aren't that quick, are you?”

“You talked me out of the chair, so clearly not.”

Rodney grunted. The lieutenant almost wasn't horrible, except for the part where he answered to Colonel Everett. After thirty-eight minutes, the wormhole shut down, and Rodney hit one key to trigger the macro he'd designed. Immediately, the wormhole to Earth opened again.

Rodney still hadn't turned on the video, but he was having fun watching Landry make faces as he mentally made up dialogue to match. He had started to work on some equations for shield resonance when General O'Neill's face appeared on the screen. Rodney reached over and turned the audio back on while turning off the city wide lockdown.

“McKay, I am seriously considering sending a troop of Marines to arrest your ass.”

“Good luck getting them through the wormhole,” Rodney pointed out.

Elizabeth appeared at O'Neill side. “Rodney, we just need to talk this out,” she said in that tone of voice that promised reprisals would be coming later. Rodney suspected that she was trying to sound reassuring.

“Oh, we've moved past talking.” O'Neill was definitely pissed. Yep, Rodney was so fired.

The transporter came open, and Sheppard came flying out. He looked around, his eyes wild, but when he saw only Rodney at the controls, he put his sidearm back in the holster and started moving into the room.

“Rodney?” he asked carefully. “Whatcha doing?”

“Talking to O'Neill.” Rodney turned his attention back to the screen. “You sent Everett, so you have to fix this mess he's made. You. You have to. We can't do this if we have to fight him every step of the way.”

“Christ,” Sheppard swore softly. He moved to the edge of the force field and rested his hand on it. “Come on there, buddy. You don't want to do this.”

Rodney whirled around. “And you're taking his orders. He has all my workers under lock and key.”

“He what?” That was Elizabeth.

“We've had a little strike,” Sheppard admitted.

“Little?” Rodney demanded. “There are only two of us left working the shield, and there are seven hive ships left. Seven. What do I do when Grodin gives up and joins the others?”

“Joins the others where?” O'Neill demanded. “What the hell is going on, Sheppard?”

John answered, his voice tight. “After Colonel Everett put the Pegasus natives under lock and key—”

And Rodney interrupted. “Yes, every plumber, every electrician and welder and farmer that keeps this city running is under lock and key. Samas is under guard, not allowed out of his room. Teyla is locked in the dorms.”

“Hey, it's only while the hive ships are there. We can talk to him again once the crisis is past,” John said. As far as soothing went, John sucked.

“He won't even take a meeting with Teyla. She knows more about the Wraith than anyone.”

“I think that's why he's worried,” John pointed out.

“Major,” Colonel O'Neill interrupted, “get to the strike and why there are only two engineers left working.”

“They said they won't stand for Everett's interference in the scientific side of the mission. Rodney and Grodin are the only two who've stayed on duty,” John admitted. “All the other scientists walked out on their jobs and joined the Pegasus civilians in the dormitory.”

“And I can't keep doing it!” Rodney yelled just as Everett came in, a damn P90 pointed at Rodney as if a gun could solve everything. John immediately moved between them.

“Sir, there's a force field. I don't think we want ricochets in here.”

“Major, stand down,” Everett ordered, but then Everett liked to order Sheppard around.

“Sir, he's talking to General O'Neill. Maybe the general can solve this.”

“He dialed Earth?” Everett pointed his gun at the ground, but he was still looking ready to kill as he charged toward Rodney. Even with the force field in place, Rodney could feel the fear rising up in his belly. “How dare you dial without permission.” He seemed to vibrate with rage for a second before turning toward the monitor. “Sir,” Everett said, offering O'Neill a salute, “I have this under control.”

“Oh yeah, it looks like it,” O'Neill commented.

“You broke the city,” Rodney yelled. “Why don't you just take a hammer and start smashing crystals because I know how to fix crystals, but I can't fix people, and you've broken them and they won't work, and I can't fix it. Damn you.” Rodney took the hammer from his tool kit and threw it right at Everett's face. It rebounded and nearly took off Rodney's toe, forcing him to dance backward.

“Dr. McKay, you will lower this force field immediately!”

“You give orders that don't make sense and expect science people to listen to you just because you can blow things up. The Hoff are part of us. Scientists. Workers. They don't deserve to get locked up.”

John moved in on Rodney's side. “Hey, buddy. I think you made your point now. Let me in, okay?”

“I can't fix this. And I don't know what to do because I’m not good with people, and Radek won't even talk to me, and I can't think anymore.”

“Hey, how long's it been since you slept, McKay?” John sounded worried now.

The lieutenant offered, “He said earlier that it have been two and a half days.”

“Christ, Rodney.”

“I can't sleep. I have to do everything because I can't fix people, and what if the shields go down, and I can't take that risk. The Wraith will kill everyone. Don't ask me to take the shield down again.” Rodney looked at John and begged. He was beyond pride anymore. He didn't have anything else to give. He dropped into his seat, and John crouched down.

“I promise I won't ask that, and if I do ask you to take it down, you can ignore me, okay?”

“Colonel, did you take the shield down?” General O'Neill asked.

“Yes sir,” Everett answered. “One of the other planets donated a load of drones, but they were from an older system and weren’t totally compatible. We dropped the shield for three seconds while we fired our weapons. It allowed us to take out three hive ships.”

“And the men who died because I couldn't get the shield up again fast enough?” Rodney demanded.

“Hey,” John said sharply. Rodney looked over. “Look at me, Rodney. Concentrate here. I'm the soldier, right?” Rodney nodded. God, his brain felt like it was wrapped in spider web. “Then protecting people is my job, not yours. You're awesome at your job, Rodney. You've kept the shields up, and you haven't even had Radek or Samas to help. That makes you the biggest, baddest scientist on the block, right?”

McKay didn't know. He felt like he was fraying on the edges.

“McKay, lower this shield,” Everett snapped.

Rodney whirled his chair around. “Why? So you can lock me up too? We all have to be just like you are we belong in cages, right? Cages where we can’t breathe your perfect Marine air. Hey, Sheppard's an ancient, lock him up for being different while you're at it, or that guy, that guy's black. Lock him up.” Rodney pointed at a random Marine, noting for the first time that he had a lot of P90s pointed at him. Idiots. P90s were nothing compared to the power of physics and a genius brain.

Everett pressed forward, his hand right up against the force field, and Rodney mentally calculated the additional drain on the ZPM as the force field had to compensate for the pressure. “Don't you--”

“Colonel Everett,” O'Neill said sharply. “Get a medical team to the gate room. Dr. McKay is obviously in some distress, but given that his first instinct was to call home rather than head for the armory, I think this is a medical issue. As soon as we can get a wormhole established, I'm going to bring a team through.”

“Hear that, Rodney,” Sheppard said. “O'Neill's coming. I bet he's even going to bring Carter, and then you can wax poetic about how she's the only woman worthy of bearing your young.”

“Oh god,” O'Neill said. “Has he seriously said that?”

“Multiple times,” John agreed.

“It's true,” Rodney pointed out. He always spoke the truth.

“Well that explains her attitude,” O'Neill said dryly. “And yes, we will be bringing Carter. Only we can't bring anyone through as long as you're holding the gate hostage, McKay.”

“Come on, buddy. Shut down the gate. And while you're at it, let me in there, okay? You're worrying me.”

“I can't keep doing this. I can't fix Radek,” Rodney said.

“Radek will be fine. Let me in, buddy. Hey, here comes Carson. I bet he's going to use the big needles on you.”

Rodney looked up, and Carson was coming toward them. He grunted. “I'm surprised he's not in lockup for being Scottish. You can't be a true-blooded Marine worthy of sharing Everett's air if you're Scottish.”

John cringed. “Okay, you are definitely not firing on all cylinders here. Do you have a way to let one person into the force field? Can you let down just one side?” John asked.

Rodney smiled. “Like making a hole in the city shield.”

“Yep, that's it buddy. Let me in there before you crash, okay? Let me in there, and then you can catch up on three days' worth of sleep, how does that sound?”

“Wonderful,” Rodney admitted. “I'm so tired.”

“Yeah, I bet. No one has been dragging you out for meals, either. I wonder where your blood sugar is.”

“MREs,” Rodney said, holding up the packaging. “I wonder if it was drugged because I don't feel so well.”

Carson moved in next to John. “Major, he's been getting stimulants from me for the last week or so. It looks like the daft bugger took too many at once. We might be looking at an overdose, either that or he’s about to crash.”

“Great,” John said. “So now Grodin is the only one keeping the shield up. General O'Neill, how fast are you planning on getting us some science folk?”

“How fast can you get Rodney to turn the gate loose?”

John turned to Rodney. “I'm just going to keep bugging you, McKay. You can let me in now or later, but I won't give you a second's rest until you let me in. I'll go get Tony and we'll double team you with stupid movie references.”

“You're sadists, both of you,” Rodney said. He calibrated the shield to redirect all energy toward Everett’s hand. That weakened the other side, and Rodney gestured toward it.

John smiled. “Yep, I am. Carson too.”

“Don't be giving him ideas,” Carson complained.

John had to force his way through the shield. “Disengaging, General. He reached over and turned off the Stargate, and Rodney realized it was over. He'd given up his position in Atlantis. He'd probably committed treason, although that was debatable because he was Canadian.

John's hands were around his arms, sliding down to catch Rodney's wrists, and Rodney let his eyes drift closed. It was all gone now. Even John was gone, not that he'd ever had a chance with him. Everett showed up, and that was the last time they'd even talked about a relationship, and Rodney had turned him down. Clearly Rodney needed therapy. A lot of it.

“Carson, his pulse is awfully slow.”

“I'm going to need this shield down.”

“I'll do my best. I'm not Radek. Um, sir, do you think someone could go and tell Dr. Zelenka that Rodney managed to trap us inside a force field before passing out?”

Rodney fell asleep to the sounds of Carson and John, and he pretended that they were back the way it had been two weeks ago when everything made sense.

“Jack, are you sure you want to do this?” General Landry asked.

“Nope,” Jack answered. “I’m too old to go through the Stargate, especially to another galaxy.” And the damn P90 felt weird against his chest. When had these things gotten so heavy?

Landry gave him a weary look. “Then don’t go.”

Part of Jack didn’t want to. He really was too old to do this, but he was the one who had sent Dillon Everett. At the time he’d wanted to send the best Marine for the job, but Everett never had much patience for civilians. Clearly that had turned into a major problem, and Jack cleaned up his own messes.

“Sir,” Carter offered as she joined them at the junction of two corridors.

“Carter,” he greeted her. This was feeling like old times. Mitchell joined them at the next junction looking all bright eyed and bushy tailed, and suddenly Jack felt every year of his age. He’d never expected to live long enough to get old and creaky, but compared to Cameron Mitchell, he was positively ancient.

“General,” Mitchell offered with a nod. They walked into the gate room, and a dozen scientists and a half dozen marines were waiting for them. O’Neill made eye contact with Major Lorne, and the man gave him a half smile and a nod. Sometimes it took a more junior officer to smooth out a commander’s rougher edges, and Major Lorne was an SGC veteran. Unless Jack changed his mind, when the rest of them came back, Lorne would be staying. If the man could handle an unas uprising over mining rights, he could handle McKay. Hopefully. Jack felt a little flash of guilt over sticking the major with this assignment.

“So, I hear McKay made a real fuss about Colonel Everett,” Carter commented. She had that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth expression going.

Jack gave a little shrug. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s still thinks you’re worthy to carry his young.”

Carter flushed a magnificent red, and half the scientists turned to stare at Jack with open mouths. Clearly he hadn’t been around enough if they thought that was the most shocking thing he could say.

“McKay is an ass,” Carter finally snapped. Damn, it didn’t used to take her that long to recover. “However, I’ve never known him to be an illogical ass.”

“We all have our breaking point, and apparently a weeks’ worth of stimulants and Dillon Everett is McKay’s.”

Jack snuffed out the little bit of guilt he felt for setting that mess up. When they’d first got the reports, it’d been some damning stuff. Captain Parker and Lieutenant Wilder died in the first conflict on Athos. Sheppard shot Colonel Sumner through the heart. That left Sheppard leading a military structure that had been reduced to one wet-behind-the ears lieutenant who had been sent along as a backup, one gunnery sergeant with a goa’uld in his head, and Bates.

Add in a certain local belief about Sheppard being de-ascended, and the makings for a nice little personal kingdom were all there. Jack had met Sheppard, after all. The man was a cold bastard who had been just as happy to walk away from the expedition. Jack had to apply a little pressure to the man just to get Dr. Weir’s light switch to go with them.

If Jack had any clue that Sumner and Parker would die inside a week, he never would have allowed a loose cannon on the mission. Never.

So sending Everett had seemed like a fucking great idea. If anyone knew how to break up power struggles and take control of a situation, it was Dillon. No one argued with him, not for long, anyway. Jack had watched Dillon plow through situations that would have left other men twitching and calling for backup.

Jack hadn’t taken into consideration that the civilians might not appreciate being bulldozed. And he definitely hadn’t expected to see Sheppard kneeling down trying to talk his geek out of a bad situation. The man he’d seen on that video feed from the Pegasus galaxy was nothing like the emotionally closed off bastard Jack had met flying helicopters. Jack knew one thing—the situation on the ground had changed. If they wanted to hold onto Atlantis, Jack needed a better idea of what was going on.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m here.” Daniel came skidding into the room, his glasses askew and his pack in one hand.

Jack looked over. “Now this seems familiar.”

“Yes, sir, it does,” Carter agreed, her voice affectionate.

“Very funny.” Daniel glared at both of them. “I was trying to catch up on the reports. I haven’t kept up on the local population.” He reached up and shoved his glasses higher on his face. “Jack, did you know there are arrest warrants out for three of the Marines under Everett?”

Jack gritted his teeth. “Yes, Daniel. I did. We will be bringing those three home with us.”

“We aren’t going to let them get away with sexual harassment, are we? Jack, what those three did—”

“Is a disgrace to the uniform,” Jack snapped. “They will go in the brig the second they come through the gate, and they’ll have a fair trial before we throw them under the mountain. Now focus Daniel. I have a civilian population in revolt here. Focus. I’ll take care of the naughty Marines.”

Daniel’s glare got exponentially darker, and Jack did remember Danielese well enough to know that the man was pissed about the word naughty. The fact is that the NCIS agent’s report made it clear that those three were criminals, but Jack couldn’t go there right now. He needed to focus on the situation with the civilians and Everett. Sexual harassment was such a mundane charge that Jack didn’t have room for it in his brain, although part of him wondered if that wasn’t at least part of the reason for McKay’s little break from sanity. Either way, the legal charges were a problem for General Landry to handle as soon as the three men were turned over to him.

Jack would have killed anyone who had talked to Daniel like that, so he didn’t know what it meant that Sheppard hadn’t.

The walls of the room were lined with crates with more ammunition, more nuclear weapons, and more medicines for the city, and the men and women going with them had all claimed crates to push through. Jack eyed some poor corporal in charge of a palate of crates taller than him. If the kid looked like he was steering it off the edge of the ramp, Jack would step in, but one of the perks of being a general was the ability to avoid manual labor.

“SG-1, you have a go,” General Landry said, and the gate started dialing.

“Good to have you with us, sir,” Mitchell said.

Jack grunted. It wasn’t feeling very damn good to have to go and clean up the mess he’d helped Everett make. “Carter, get up to speed on the shield ASAP. See if you can’t talk Zelenka into playing nice now that someone is listening to their complaints.”

Jack watched as Dr. Weir walked into the room as the outer ring on the Stargate spun. She smiled and nodded his direction, but it was a tight, unhappy expression. The IOC had been less than impressed with her request to promote Sheppard and appoint him as the head of the military. Jack had not done a whole lot to support her, either. After seeing Sheppard trying to talk McKay out of holding the gate hostage, he was starting to think that maybe he should have. But in his defense, Sheppard had a large civilian contingent of workers who answered to him, people who thought he was de-ascended, and an alien leader on his gate team. He came off sounding a little like a warlord.

The event horizon splashed and the first of their reinforcements started through.

“We are going to listen to their complaints, right?” Daniel asked.

Jack gave Danny his best grin. “Are you getting jaded in your old age?”

“Yes.”

Daniel used to be more fun to pick on. “Yes, Daniel, we are going to listen to every single annoying gripe they can come up with.”

Daniel glared at him. Jack couldn’t resist grinning back. When he turned to face the Stargate, he found Elizabeth glaring at him as well. Geez. None of these people could take a joke.

“Daniel, talk to the civilians,” Jack said. “We really do need to know how to get the city back on track, so find out where their non-negotiables are.”

“Getting locked up is probably one.” Daniel had his cranky voice out.

“Probably,” Jack agreed. He understood Dillon’s need to get the civilians into a small, defensible area, but Jack had found that a lot of people didn’t appreciate being treated like they couldn’t take care of themselves, even when they couldn’t take care of themselves. Take Daniel, for instance.

“Ready, sir?” Mitchell asked.

Jack would have made a smart ass remark about how he’d been ready since before Mitchell was born, but he was already feeling old and cranky. He didn’t need any more reminders. So he just strode up the ramp and headed into the event horizon one step ahead of his former team.

Atlantis stunned him. It wasn’t just the light pouring in through colored glass or the clean lines that seemed to soar up forever. No, it was the whispers that he could almost hear, the sense of home-right-stay that pulled at him.

“General on deck,” someone called, and Atlantis personnel lined up on either side of the gate went to attention.

“Yeah, yeah, at ease,” Jack groused. He’d forgotten how annoying that was… not that he’d mind a few senators or IOC members going to attention for him. Maybe he could get them to see sense.

“General, in a good mood as usual then?” Colonel Dillon Everett stood at the top of the steps with his own second—a captain whose name Jack could never remember—standing on one side and Major Sheppard standing on the other.

“Yeah, insurrection just makes me cranky, unless I’m the one instigating it.”

Everett saluted, and Jack saluted back before heading up the steps, his old knees complaining just a little. “Good to have you on Atlantis, sir.”

“You may change your mind about that,” Jack warned. Dillon’s chin lifted a little, which from him was as good as a flinch. Yeah, he was smart enough to know that this trip had not improved his career options. Jack turned around and nearly got run over by Daniel who was watching everything except where he was going. Jack caught him by the shoulders, and Daniel blinked owlishly and looked at Jack.

“Watch who you’re walking into,” Jack complained. Damn he’d missed this.

“I’m not walking into you because you always stop me first,” Daniel pointed out before he detoured around Jack and went back to his rubbernecking. That was Daniel logic for you.

Jack decided to focus on the people who might actually listen to him. “Dr. Weir, maybe you can introduce Daniel to your civilian population. Carter, you get to ride herd on McKay—”

Sheppard spoke up. “Sir, he’s still in the infirmary. Dr. Zelenka is back on duty, but he’s promised to end his shift if any more Marines tell him what to do.” He gave Everett a little sideways look.

Jack sighed. “Carter, you’ve got Zelenka. Mitchell, go play with Sheppard.”

Colonel Mitchell raised an eyebrow at him, but Jack was already headed for Dillon. “So, where’s your office, and do you still have the smooth stuff in your desk drawer?” They’d been colonels together in the SGC with O’Neill getting the second-in-command because of his time in rank, but Jack had known Dillon too damn long for them to stand on ceremony.

“Unfortunately, sir, the only thing they have around here is illegally brewed vodka, and I am not about to condone illegal stills on base.” Dillon gave Jack just enough of a look for Jack to know there was a big bottle of the stuff in the office. Good because one of them was going to need it.

Jack left the others to sort the rest out while he followed Dillon to the man’s office. The room was huge with a center table and a balcony that looked out over the ocean. However Jack looked up. The blue sky above them was stained with orange and yellow blobs like jello dropped on a glass top table.

“It’s hard to think that one of those blasts could destroy a big chunk of the city.”

“Not really,” Jack answered Dillon. “You and I have seen enough destruction to expect the worst. How’s the city holding.”

“If it weren’t for one full ZPM, we wouldn’t be,” Dillon answered. “I’m not going to sugar coat this, General, we’re in some deep shit here.”

Jack forced his attention away from the light show the Wraith were putting on for them. “Other than that, how's it going?”

Dillon grinned. “We've taken down eight ships full of Wraith.”

“Yeah. Good job on that. I thought we had all the fun with the enslaving goa'uld, but I guess the Pegasus galaxy got the good bad guys.” O’Neill abandoned the balcony and headed back into the officer Dillon had claimed for his own.

“Yes, sir.”

Jack dropped down on a bench along one wall. “Don't sir me, Dillon. How long have we served together?”

For a second, Dillon studied him as though unsure of what he should do. Finally he nodded and sat on the bench opposite. “A lot of years, Jack.”

“Too many. So tell me what's not in the report.”

Dillon sighed. “The civilians on this base are insane.”

“Yeah, civilians,” Jack shrugged. “They’d be easier to handle if they’d be less like civilians.”

Dillon snorted.

“Christ, Everett, you’ve done a number here—good and bad.”

“So, are you here to relieve me of the command?”

“Do I need to?”

“Fuck, no. McKay was completely out of line with that stunt and if it weren’t for Sheppard.... He has let Weir and McKay stick their oars in military waters. You and I both know that Sumner never would have let a civilian make some of the hare-brained decisions these idiots have. They have unvetted civilians handling critical city systems during a siege. That one was Weir’s idea.”

Jack nodded. “I read the reports.” He wasn’t terribly impressed. And at first, Bates and Sheppard seemed to have shut down Weir’s request for more civilian contractors, and then a couple of months later, Sheppard did a complete 180 on the issue.

“And then Weir tried to lead her own coup. I had ordered all civilians to remain in defensible stations, and she tries to lead them out onto a pier for a memorial service. Shit. We have enemy firing on our position, and she wants to hold a candlelight vigil.”

“You should see some of the stupid shit Danny’s tried over the years.”

“And you complained each and every time,” Dillon pointed out. Jack couldn’t exactly argue the point because he had. In fact, several times he’d handled it exactly like Dillon had, by strong-arming the civilian in question. The difference was that Daniel liked him enough to chew him out in private instead of filing a formal complaint.

“And I listened to him before I decided to stop him from doing stupid shit, and sometimes I stood back and gritted my teeth and really prayed his stupid shit wasn’t going to get us killed as I let him do it anyway,” Jack pointed out.

Dillon leaned back and scrubbed a hand over his face. “These people don’t take the threats seriously, Jack.”

“I don’t know. The Hoff poisoned themselves just to make sure the enemy would kill them instead of eating them. I think they’re pretty serious about all this.”

Dillon gave him a narrow-eyed glare.

Holding up his hands, Jack tried to explain. “I see your position, Dillon. I do. I just think things are a little out of hand.”

“And I should let untrained individuals loose on the city grid while we have Wraith firing at us?”

“Have you met McKay?” Jack demanded. “If those workers didn’t know what they were doing, McKay would have stripped the skin off their backside already. Trust your people, Dillon.”

“They aren’t my people,” he snapped.

“No, your people are sexually harassing the science staff and provoking NCIS agents.” The words came out a lot angrier than Jack had intended, and he could practically see Dillon shut down. Jack sighed. “I don’t get it, Dillon.”

“They fucked up.” Dillon shrugged.

“They fucked up? That’s it?”

For a second, Dillon pressed his lips together and seemed to struggle with his temper. “I have a twenty-two year old kid in the infirmary who looks like my grandfather. Ford is missing in action, half-stoned on this Wraith enzyme. I have men dead, and civilians dead, and civilians who won’t listen despite the fact that there’s a good chance more of them are going to be dead, and right in the middle of this pressure cooker, I have fucking McKay mooning after Sheppard like damn puppy dog. So yes, my guys got out of hand. They were trying to protect Sheppard’s career because they have the bad judgment to like the guy.”

Jack felt like he’d been hit with a zat blast. McKay was mooning after Sheppard? Of all the explanations Jack had been prepared to hear, that wasn’t one.

Dillon gave a rough laugh. “At least when Jackson gave you all those looks, the rest of us knew he had a wife out there—that you were the big damn hero who had come in and saved him from Apophis. It made sense that it was hero worship. But McKay… there’s no way to take that as anything other than serious lust, and I honestly think Sheppard is just clueless enough to not notice.”

“McKay is chasing Sheppard?” Jack’s brain definitely needed bleach.

“He’d doing a piss poor job of it, but yeah, that’s the scuttlebutt.”

“And your Marines decided to teach McKay a lesson?”

“My Marines,” Dillon snapped, “were trying to keep Major Sheppard’s career from getting flushed. I wouldn’t be here if the IOC wasn’t seriously worried about Sheppard, so his career is on the line. My guys were a little too aggressive about trying to humiliate McKay into backing off, I admit that. I should have come down on them harder, but I did tell them to knock it off, even before DiNozzo got involved. But in their defense, they were concerned about Sheppard.” Dillon laughed. “Sheppard. I wanted to hate him, you know?”

“Because of Marshall?” Jack asked. Marshall Sumner had been a damn good man. If it weren’t for the lingering rumors of a little man-on-man indiscretion in his past, he would have been promoted ahead of Jack, and he’d seen Pegasus as his chance to start over without the damn regs hanging over him every single minute.

“He deserved better than a bullet,” Dillon said, his voice rough.

“Yeah, he did,” Jack agreed. “But Sheppard didn’t have a choice. We would have done the same.”

Dillon nodded. “Yeah, after seeing what those bastards did to Chartering, I know I wouldn’t want to survive a feeding.”

“And both of us would die if living meant we gave the enemy more information. Sheppard did what Marshall would have wanted.”

Dillon didn’t answer, but he got up and went over to the desk. Jack watched him retrieve the bootleg vodka and pour some into two glasses. He brought one over to Jack before offering, “To Marshall.” They touched glasses and then Jack downed the liquor. It burned the whole way down, but that felt right.

“To Marshall,” Jack agreed once he was sure the lining of his throat wasn’t on fire.

“How do we fix this?” Dillon asked. He sat on the bench again.

“I don’t know that I can fix the mess DiNozzo’s made,” Jack admitted. NCIS was separate so that the chain of command couldn’t interfere with investigations or reports.

“I was never going to make general anyway,” Dillon said with a shrug, “but don’t let them bury those Marines too deep. Anyone other than McKay would have gotten a clue and the men would have backed off.”

“It doesn’t excuse sexual harassment, or abusing the trust of the civilians we’re supposed to be protecting,” Jack pointed out. “But that’s Landry’s jurisdiction, and I’m not going to go stepping on his toes.”

Dillon looked supremely unhappy, but he didn’t argue.

“I’m putting you in for a commendations for the eight hive ships you have taken out.”

“Then put one in for the men who died and one for Sheppard who used those drones and Ford who took on that Wraith to save two Marines and Steven who brought the Daedalus in close enough for use to use that trick with the Asgard beam and a bunch of nuclear weapons. There are a lot of good people here.”

“Yes, there are,” Jack agreed. “You’re probably not going to be able to keep this command.”

“You’re going to hang me out to dry in order to appease the civilians, aren’t you?”

Jack grimaced. “I really hate the way that sounds.”

“But you’re going to do it anyway.”

“I really hate being a general,” Jack complained. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to get the city functioning. You’re the military commander for now, but find Major Lorne and brief him on operations so that if we have to move fast, we can.”

Dillon stood up. “Yes, sir,” he said, offering a salute.

It made Jack feel about two inches tall. He’d set Dillon up with this mess, but there was no way for Jack to take his share of the blame here. “Go away before you make me feel even worse,” Jack ordered.

Dillon started toward the door, but halfway there he stopped. “Jack?”

Jack looked up. Whatever shit Dillon wanted to dish out, the least Jack could do was take it.

“We get the job done. If these people need a scapegoat to get back on the job, then we give it to them, as long as that means we keep Earth secure, that’s the job. You’ll still have a beer waiting for you at my house on Saturday.”

“Sometimes it feels like we have to give up too much for the job,” Jack confessed. He wouldn’t say that to just anyone, but he and Dillon had fought side by side. They’d lost men together, fought goa’uld together, trained together. They’d shared beers and laughed about the new recruits and how they’d handled the mock foothold situations designed for training. They’d commiserated about getting beat black and blue training with Teal’c and they’d shown up in dress uniforms for too damn many funerals.

“It’s the job we took. I’d rather be in my shoes than yours,” Dillon said, and then he left before Jack could come up with a response. The worst part was that Jack agreed with him.

Jack looked up from the desk as Daniel came in. “Good news?” he asked. Daniel didn’t have that sour expression that meant he’d been talking to people who refused to listen.

“They’ll go back to work on the condition that Dr. Weir is in charge of the city,” Daniel said as he came in and dropped into one of the chairs.

Count on Danny to fix things. “Excellent.” Jack clapped his hands together. “Now we just need to figure out how to get rid of the Wraith, and we can all live happily ever after.” Jack actually liked this plan Sheppard and McKay had put forward. They wanted to blow a nuke above the city, and while the Wraith sensors were blind, cloak the city. It was clever plan, assuming it didn’t end with them all dead. Everett had vetoed it in favor of actually killing the Wraith, but Jack figured that might be one of those long-term goals.

“Are you going to let Elizabeth run the city?” Daniel asked in that tone that suggested he was armed and ready for a fight.

“I don’t want to run it, and Dillon hasn’t done the best job, so why not.” Jack shrugged. Daniel studied him for a few seconds as though waiting for some punch line, but Jack was being honest. He didn’t want the city. He had enough trouble trying to keep the politicians’ fingers out of the SGC—he couldn’t do that from another galaxy.

Eventually Daniel leaned back and started in on his culture crap. “The belief systems here are fascinating. The gate’s linguistic program is much more sophisticated, so identifying the linguistic mismatches is a little trickier, but I’m almost positive that the Hoff, Athosians and Dagans have no word for soldier or warrior. For them, everyone is a potential target and everyone is a potential fighter. The Genii have the concept of warrior, but it basically includes every able-bodied person old enough to hold a weapon and young enough to not fall down while doing it. The idea of a small, dedicated warrior class is completely alien to their way of thinking.”

“Huh.” Jack provided just enough verbal feedback to allow Daniel to keep going. He’d found a long time ago that letting Daniel run himself down verbally was the best strategy if he wanted to work a word or two in for himself later.

“By coming in and trying to protect them, I’m pretty sure that Colonel Everett implied they were either children or infirm, and that didn’t go over well. It’s as if we went back to London during the blitz and suggested that all the English should give up their daily life until the military had managed to defeat the Nazis, only in this case, the cultural taboos against that sort of paternalist behavior are even stronger. At least the English understood the concept of a military.”

“Hard to have a military when the enemy keeps eating it,” Jack pointed out. That was disturbing on a level that Jack couldn’t quite wrap his head around, and he’d seen a lot of very wrong shit in his life.

“I wonder how the Wraith justify that sort of decimation of a sentient species. There has to be some sort of psychological defense mechanism that allows them to dismiss humans as food. The goa’uld not only took on the persona of gods, but they honestly believed that they were gods. It gave them moral license to treat people as slaves. However, the Wraith have no relationship with humans, and they must know that humans are capable of technological feats that equal their own. How can one sentient species completely disregard the most basic of rights when it comes to another sentient species? I would kill to get even a taste of their culture.”

“Taste might be the wrong word, and if you even think of trying to play nice with a Wraith, I’ll hogtie you and toss you back through the gate,” Jack threatened.

Daniel rolled his eyes as if Jack had said something outrageous.

“Try me,” Jack warned.

“I’m not going to invite them for dinner. I’m just curious.”

“Be curious from a distance, Danny.”

“I’m not stupid, Jack.”

Jack wisely chose to not comment.

“The Genii are fascinating. Did you know that at one point, the Genii federation had over fifty systems, shipyard, a faster-than-light space fleet and advanced technology?”

“I thought they were in the 1950s with their technology.” Jack’s gut gave a little twinge of worry at what other surprises these guys might have up their sleeves.

Daniel leaned forward, his face lit with passion, so Jack figured he was about to get a history lesson. He’d missed how utterly geeky Daniel could get over history. “They are now, but that’s after thousands of years of conflict with the Wraith. From what I could figure out, they were one of the most advanced races after the Ancients left. They even had some Ancient technology. While the Wraith hibernated after the fall of Atlantis, the Genii rose up, created a federation of planets, and then got utterly crushed when the Wraith woke up. Several of their ships escaped and formed a separate culture, but the Genii were put back thousands of years. Any technology that was advanced enough to put out an energy reading attracted full-scale attacks they couldn’t defend against.”

Jack made a little humming noise as he went back to scanning his reports. The Genii had tried to take the city by force, so Jack wasn’t feeling very sympathetic about their woes.

“After the Wraith went back into hibernation, the Genii rose again, and from what Ladon Radim isn’t saying, it sounds like they were a much more fascist society the second time around, which isn’t surprising. A lack of resources would have—”

“Danny,” Jack interrupted.

“What?” Daniel looked at him with a wide-eyed curiosity about what Jack might say, not even a trace of frustration at the interruption.

“Ladon Radim was one of the soldiers who tried to take Atlantis and who killed two Marines. Tell me you weren’t alone when you were talking to him.”

“You’re as bad as Everett,” Daniel said with a dramatic eye-roll.

“When it comes to you, yes, yes I am,” Jack agreed. “And I know you understand the concepts of military and military escort and back up, so don’t do it again or you’ll be investigating the inside of an Ancient brig.” Immediately, Jack knew he’d gone too far. Daniel got that stubborn look that never boded well. “Besides, I thought you were going to work with those priest guys who brought the ZPM.”

“The Dagans,” Daniel said. “Colonel Everett seemed particularly annoyed by them. He didn’t even allow them to stay in the library they’d found. The idea that they’re a danger to the city is absolutely ridiculous and to disrespect these men and women who have devoted their lives to trying to preserve some part of Ancient culture while at the same time surviving the Wraith…. Jack, are you listening to me?”

Jack grinned. “Nope.” He did love winding Daniel up. “I already agreed with you. Everett was wrong, about the civilians anyway, and all the city workers should go back to work. You don’t need to keep nagging me after I agree.”

Daniel leaned back in his chair. “Are you agreeing just to keep me from nagging?”

“Actually no. I’m not. I’ve seen the light. I’m an enlightened guy.”

Daniel snorted.

“Before you came in here, I had already decided that Dillon went too far.”

“Are you going to put Major Sheppard back in charge?” Daniel asked. Jack had forgotten how the man could cut through all the protective layers and stick a verbal knife in right where it counted.

“I don’t think I can. He’s not qualified for a promotion, the IOC does not seem interested in making concessions as much as they are in consolidating power, and this is not a posting that I can leave a major in charge of.” Jack held up his hand to stop Daniel before he started. “Which is not to say that I wouldn’t back Major Sheppard if it was possible. I would. And I will leave Major Lorne here to try and smooth over some of the rough edges. However, I don’t have supreme cosmic powers, Danny. The IOC is nervous about Sheppard, and I can’t change that.”

“So convince them.”

This time Jack snorted. He wasn’t good with politics on the best of days. If it wasn’t for all his stories of saving the world, senators and IOC members would never even return his calls.

“You have to find someone better, Jack.”

Jack could feel his aggravation rise. “Dillon has done a damn fine job. He’s taken out eight hive ships. Eight. That’s no small feat, Daniel.”

Daniel crossed his arms over his chest and got that digging-in-his-heels look that Jack dreaded. “Did you know that Everett confined Gibbs and Samas to quarters?”

Jack sighed. He could understand that one, even if he would never admit it in front of Daniel. He valued his life too much. “Nope, I didn’t. Am I going to have another formal complaint on my desk tomorrow?”

“I wish.” Daniel’s lips twisted in disgust.

“Excuse me?”

Daniel’s hands flew up as he started gesturing in frustration. “Samas is working on Wraith programming and he claims he can do it anywhere, so he doesn’t mind, and Gibbs insists that Everett is right and there’s too much of a chance for conflict if he’s in the main city.”

“So, your attempts to be a busybody got vetoed?” Jack guessed.

From the glare Daniel leveled his direction, he guessed right.

“Look, Marines love two things, their mother and their gunny. Sometimes they love their dogs.”

Daniel looked bewildered. “And?”

Some days Jack really preferred to talk to Carter. She got this stuff without him having to spell it all out. “And, the first time one of Everett’s Marines made a fuss about having a gunnery sergeant with a snake in his head, one of Gibbs’ Marines was going to try and stand up for his gunny. It wouldn’t have ended well, and in case you haven’t noticed, the city is under siege. It’s not under siege well, and someone should talk to the Wraith about tactics because leaving the Stargate functioning is just poor thinking, but still…” Jack shrugged.

“So everyone else should suffer because Everett’s men have no self-control?” Daniel sounded supremely unamused.

“Daniel… do not go there.”

“Why? Because you don’t want to deal with the fact that they sexually harassed McKay?”

Jack sighed. He was out of practice with Danielese because he had stepped into that mess with both eyes closed. “This is a man who has, more than once, talked about Carter’s womb being suitable for his children. McKay doesn’t get a lot of leeway on the sexual harassment front. I can’t believe he even pressed charges.”

“So, those three should get away with verbally torturing him?” Daniel was starting to transition into that submerged fury that Jack had learned to fear.

“No, I’m just surprised that he noticed them verbally torturing him. Doesn’t he usually ignore all the little people who are below him, like Marines?”

All the anger rushed out of Daniel and he made a face. “True. I think Tony talked him into pressing charges, and I don’t blame him. Even if Rodney didn’t notice, the other scientists watched soldiers target one of them because he wasn’t strong enough to make the military stop. That’s not a precedent we want to set.”

“Of course it’s not.” Jack did wonder how he always ended up fighting with Daniel, even when they were agreeing.

“And it was gay bashing, you know.”

Jack’s mouth fell open. He really hadn’t though Daniel would find that bit out. “Really?”

Daniel nodded. “I visited him in the infirmary today. Rodney said they had some strange notion that he was being too gay. He thought all three were brain damaged from too many hits in training.”

Jack weighed his options. He could leave Daniel in the dark, but if the man found out later, he would find a way to torture Jack, even from the opposite side of the country or even the galaxy. “It might be they had the idea that Rodney was chasing after Sheppard,” Jack confessed.

“Huh.”

Jack studied Daniel. “Huh, what?”

“What do you mean, ‘huh, what’?” Daniel blinked at him with a look of practiced innocence.

“That’s your ‘Huh, I know something’ huh.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

Daniel glared at him. “I don’t have a ‘huh I know something’ huh.”

“Danny, I’ve known you for years. I’ve spend more nights sharing a sleeping bag or a tent or a prison cell with you than I spent in bed with my ex-wife. Yes, you do have a ‘huh, I know something,’ huh, and that was it.” Jack crossed his own arms and leaned back in the chair to really get comfortable while he glared right back. Daniel might be a champion nagger, but he sucked at keeping secrets.

Sure enough, he broke inside three minutes. “Fine,” he blurted out, throwing his hands in the air.

“Fine what?”

Daniel sighed. “Fine, Rodney had a little thing for Sheppard in the Antarctic.” Daniel shrugged like it was all too unimportant to care about, which was Jack’s first hint that it had been a fairly serious crush.

“Aw, crap. I was trying to pretend it was all a figment of Dillon’s imagination.” Jack ran a hand over his face. He didn’t like McKay, so the idea of McKay having a crush on anyone was just… disturbing.

“There is nothing wrong with being gay.”

“No,” Jack said, drawing the word out, “but mooning after an officer is both dangerous to that officer’s career and kind of stupid when, apparently, the officer in question doesn’t notice it.”

“I know you’re not trying to excuse the behavior of those three men.” Daniel was pretty much daring him to say exactly that.

“Nope. I’m not. They’ve destroyed their careers. However, we’re talking about twenty-one year old kids who handled something badly. We’re not talking about violent offenders.”

“You’ve been hanging out with politicians and their flexible morals too much.”

“Probably,” Jack agreed with a sigh. Daniel had always been his moral center, and it had occurred to him once or twice that without Daniel’s moral indignation around, Jack tended to make a few too many compromises.

Daniel put his elbow on the desk and rested his chin on his hand. “I’m actually surprised that Rodney still likes him. Usually talking to someone is enough to put Rodney off any crush. I don’t suppose Sheppard has some hidden PhD in engineering or something, does he?”

“What? Why would you think that?”

Daniel shrugged. “Rodney’s turned on by smart.”

Jack eyed Daniel, and when he spoke, his words were low and dangerously soft. “Is there something you need to tell me?” If Rodney put the moves on Daniel, Jack was going to go do some sexual harassing of his own.

Daniel laughed. “Give me a break. I’m an archeologist. For Rodney, that ranks up there with bongo drum player and fortune teller.”

Jack’s brain stuttered a little at the idea of anyone considering Daniel unintelligent.

Apparently Daniel didn’t notice Jack’s mental flailing. “Sheppard must have some serious brains under all that hair to keep Rodney’s attention this long. So, Jack, what are we going to do here?”

Jack grimaced. “We need someone temporary. The IOC is standing on regulation. Sheppard is four classes shy of a master degree in Operational Warfare Concentration, and that would put him in line for a promotion, especially after the field experience here.”

“So, we find someone to keep the seat warm for a couple of months.”

Jack leaned back and felt every vertebrae in his back pop. Daniel said that like it was easy—as if military officers could be shuffled around on a board without any trouble. Sometimes the man was too naïve for Jack to even deal with. “We just need to find someone good enough to keep Atlantis from falling to the Wraith, but someone who is old enough to retire, or at the very least give up his command, in four or five months. No, that won’t be hard.”

“You don’t have to be sarcastic.”

Jack didn’t even bother to comment on the irony of Daniel telling him to stop being sarcastic. “Maybe I have someone in mind,” Jack finally admitted, “but I want to talk to Sheppard first. I don’t know that the man is worth all this trouble.”

Daniel smiled. “He is,” he said before standing up. “Talk to the civilians if you don’t believe me.”

“Daniel, if I talk to the civilians, I’m going to start getting suspicious about why they like Sheppard so much,” Jack pointed out. “I’m trusting you on this one.”

Jack was also trusting that Ellis would go along with the plan. Abe had his heart set on one of the new 304 cruisers. Right now he was tentatively slated to take command of the Apollo, but she wouldn’t be ready for six months. It just might work.

Daniel headed for the door. “I’ll tell John you want to see him,” Daniel said and then he was gone.

This is why Jack hated it when he fucked up. It took a lot of effort to fix things when you made a mess. Well, he’d talk to Sheppard and if Daniel was right that the major deserved the posting, Jack would have to buy Abe Ellis a good bottle of whiskey and start schmoozing some IOC members.

Jack groaned. Aw crap. He had to find somewhere to stash Sheppard, too. He needed Lorne here, and this place wasn’t big enough for two majors. Fixing your own messes really sucked.

John stopped outside General O’Neill’s temporary offices and took a deep breath. He knew full well that he hadn’t made a good first impression on the man, and he doubted Everett’s reports were one bit better. Hell, John’s own reports had probably damned him. He’d shot his new commanding officer less than a week into the mission. The Air Force tended to frown on that.

He just wished he had been able to say more than a few brief words to McKay before Jackson had come for him, not that he could say much to McKay under the watchful eyes of Everett’s guards in the infirmary. Hopefully Rodney understood.

Hopefully he would have time to say goodbye before he got bounced back to Earth and probably bounced out of the Air Force. Then again, maybe they’d demote him to captain and shove him in a lab to play light switch at Area 51.

Well he wasn’t one for prolonging the pain. John put on his cockiest grin and knocked at the door, using his mental control over the door to keep it closed until he felt the mental pressure of O’Neill trying to open it. Then he pulled his control back and allowed the door to come open.

“Reporting as requested, sir,” John said. He knew he sounded insolent, but he couldn’t get control of his emotions, and he’d rather annoy his superiors than allow them to see that their games bothered him. General O’Neill looked up from his computer. The man leaned back and studied John long enough to make John uncomfortable. However, he went to parade rest and refused to react.

“Sheppard, you surprise me,” O’Neill finally said.

That was not what John expected. “Sir?”

“When we met in that helicopter, I put you down as one cold son of a bitch. I never thought you'd be the one to talk a geek off a cliff.”

John felt a flash of panic. If O’Neill wanted to talk about Rodney, this conversation could get very ugly. “Is anyone going to hold this against Rodney? Sir, his blood work--”

O’Neill waved his hand dismissively. “Carson has already made the case for stimulant poisoning. He wasn't rational at the time, and knowing McKay, it's going to kill him that he was out of control. He surprised me too.”

“Sir?” O’Neill was strange enough that John was finding that all his experience with commanding officers was failing him. He just didn’t know where O’Neill was going.

“McKay never really cared about people, so putting his neck on the line for his department isn't in character.”

John took a deep breath and tried to tame his temper. “Sir, maybe you don't know him as well as you think. McKay puts his neck on the line every day. His people know that, which is why they're fanatically loyal.”

O’Neill leaned forward with a satisfied smirk, as though he’d just scored a point, but John didn’t know what game they were playing. “Is that your secret?” O’Neill asked.

“Sir?”

O’Neill stood up, and John fought an urge to get closer to the exit. The man had a predatory air about him. Suddenly John understood why the Dagans whispered that he was another ancient. O’Neill stopped at a window and looked out over the ocean. “A lot of these people are more interested in your orders than in Colonel Everett's. He has expressed some concern about that,” O’Neill finally said.

John blew out a long breath. He’d expected this, so he felt like he’d suddenly found some solid ground under his feet. “Sir, in Pegasus, when a leader changes or a group changes traders, the people involved renegotiate everything. Teyla spent years going out on trading missions with her father so that when she took over, she wouldn't have to renegotiate every single deal but could continue her father's agreements. These people have only known me and Dr. Weir.”

“And these stories about how you're a de-ascended Ancient.” O’Neill kept watching the ocean, but John wasn’t stupid enough to think that he wasn’t paying attention.

“I am not proud of this, but DiNozzo and McKay made that up. We found a ZPM on Dagas, but they were religiously attached to the idea of turning it over to an Ancient.”

O’Neill turned and gave him a wry grin. “And people are dangerous when religion gets involved.”

Something in his chest loosed a little. “Yes, sir, they are.”

“So, no burning desire to build your own fiefdom?”

“No, sir. Part of me doesn't even want to allow the Dagans to stay because they're just creepy.”

O’Neill laughed. “Religious people often are, and do not tell Daniel I said that,” he finished with a fierce glare.

“Of course not, sir. I do understand the danger of pissing off the geeks.”

O’Neill grunted and turned back to the ocean view. Sheppard suddenly realized that O’Neill hadn’t decided what to do with him, which implied that John wasn’t necessarily screwed. He just had to convince O’Neill that he wasn’t trying to build his own kingdom or two seconds away from full mutiny. John mentally cursed Weir’s rebellion.

“Sir,” John said, tense but willing to take a risk to save his job.

O’Neill looked over at him.

“The Dagans are calling you Shepherd the Elder,” he said.

“They think I’m your father?” O’Neill sounded offended.

“No, sir. Shepherd, as in someone who tends sheep, is their term for an Ancient. The fact that my name is Sheppard is just bad luck.”

“So, someone told them I have the gene too.” O’Neill frowned. “Do they have religious objections to the people who have the artificial gene?”

“No sir. They’re quite fond of McKay, and honestly, very few of our allies are. The Hoff adore him, and the Genii respect that he’s brilliant, but most of the others have trouble even tolerating him in large doses, and that includes the Athosians who like everyone.”

“Be grateful,” O’Neill said, and John had a flash of confusion before O’Neill continued. “I got the popular geek, and half the time, aliens were trying to kidnap him or marry him… or both. It was really annoying.”

“Yes, sir.”

“When I first asked if you wanted to come, you didn’t seem very interested in saving the world.” O’Neill didn’t ask a question, but Sheppard knew that this was the turning point. Either he convinced O’Neill to back him or he had a future as Captain Light Switch at Area 51.

“I’d tried saving the world. It didn’t end well for anyone,” John pointed out.

O’Neill grimaced. “You shouldn’t have disobeyed direct orders.”

John refused to answer. He’d burn in hell before he’d agree with that, no matter what O’Neill said.

“Usually I make sure the communication equipment is broken before I go haring off,” he said. “And when I do go against direct orders, I report back to a commanding officer other than the one who gave me stupid orders.”

Shock robbed John of any ability to answer for what felt like several minutes. “That wasn’t easy in Afghanistan,” he eventually said. Had a general just given him suggestions on how to be more insubordinate?

O’Neill sighed. “Probably not. But your record makes this difficult. The IOC only sees what’s on paper, and on paper, you’re a bad risk. However, Elizabeth is trying to push through a promotion. She's suggesting that this wouldn't have happened on your watch.”

O’Neill came closer and sat on the edge of his desk, watching John with a sharp gaze. “No comment on that?” he asked.

“I don't know what to say, sir.”

“Start with the truth. Would this have happened on your watch?”

John didn’t know what O’Neill was looking for, so he went with the truth. “No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“I would have listened to the departments before making changes,” John said. He watched O’Neill for some sort of reaction, but the general had one hell of a poker face. “I might have moved children and the elderly into the central barracks or at the very least made it clear that my men could only provide protection for those in that area, but I would not have made it mandatory or placed guards outside the doors to keep people in.”

“And McKay's little coup?”

John felt another flash of fear. O’Neill and Rodney had their own past, and John didn’t want to be used as weapon against Rodney. John accepted that he might lose the city, but he wouldn’t let the Air Force kick Rodney out of Atlantis. “He's always been high-strung. Teyla and I take turns making sure he gets out of his lab every once in a while and eats something. Once he's out of the lab, he's more aware of his need for sleep. However, Teyla was under orders to stay out of the lab, and I had too many duties to get down there regularly. Radek and Samas step in if Rodney is in danger of getting too off-keel, but Samas was confined to quarters and Radek went on strike with the others. There are a lot of people here to support Rodney, and nothing like this every happened until every single one of those people were systematically stripped away.”

O’Neill nodded without commenting on John’s report. “How about the battle plans. Would you have changed anything there?”

“No, sir. Colonel Everett is one hell of a good tactical officer, and I have learned a lot watching him work.”

“A good tactical officer?” he asked. John tried to keep his gaze focused on the wall. Yep, Everett was a good tactical officer—damn good—but John wasn’t going to go farther and call him a good officer, not by a long shot. Scuttlebutt had it that O’Neill and Everett were friends, and John waited for the fallout. If he had any good sense, he’d learn to play politics and suck up, but he was too damn old to learn new tricks now.

“McKay sent back reports calling the use of Asgard beaming technology proof that Colonel Everett didn’t have two active brain cells left that could still send signals to each other.”

John flinched. “To be fair, he’s said things like that about me more than once,” John pointed out. “And he had a point about using the beaming technology within sensor range of the other ships. The other Wraith were able to adapt their shields to compensate.”

“So, would you have held that tactic in reserve?”

“No sir,” John said. “Colonel Everett was right that this was the chance to take out the greatest number of hives before they had a chance to adapt to the technology. Colonel Everett and Colonel Caldwell have taken out more hives than I could have hoped for.”

“But now you want to go for a bluff over a direct fight,” O’Neill said.

John was surprised. Everett had vetoed the plan, so he hadn’t thought the recommendation had made it up to the general. “Yes, sir,” he agreed.

“Colonel Everett is afraid that will give the enemy time to regroup.”

“I doubt the enemy will regroup if they think they’ve killed us.”

O’Neill shrugged. “Maybe. You think they’ll just go wandering on their way?”

“I think they’re used to thinking of humans as cows, and they’re not going to question the fact that they brought their cows back under control. They expect to win. But if we keep fighting directly, our ZPM will fail eventually. This city is 10,000 years old, and McKay can’t hold everything together with duct tape and prayer forever, especially since he’s an atheist.”

“Has McKay told you that?”

“McKay is convinced his brain can do anything,” John pointed out. “But I don’t think he would have lost it if he wasn’t worried. He can’t keep the city together when the Ancients couldn’t figure out that same problem.”

O’Neill nodded.

“None of this is going to save my job on Atlantis, is it?” John came right out and asked. It was the only question that mattered, and O’Neill was being friendly enough that he thought he might get an honest answer.

“Nope,” O’Neill agreed. “I doubt I can even leave you here as a junior officer. The IOC would wonder if you were playing politics behind their back.”

“Sir, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” O’Neill said, “but politicians tend to assume the worst. It’s part of being soul-sucking sons of bitches. They assume everyone else is as empty and pathetic as they are.”

John had to focus on keeping his mouth closed because it definitely was about to fall open. Generals didn’t talk like that. True, John hadn’t known a lot of generals, but this couldn’t be normal.

“However, if you walk away and play nice until you can get your classes done at the War College and qualify for a standard promotion, we might be able to get you back here. It depends on whether you can convince the IOC that you know how to play nicely with others.”

“I’ve never been exactly good at playing nice,” Sheppard warned the general. To demonstrate, he immediately slouched and leaned one hip against a chair.

O’Neill laughed. “Funny, that’s what I said too. Then they made me a general. Watch it. If you aren’t careful, they’ll make you Secretary of the Air Force.”

“I doubt that, sir.”

“Yeah, well I’m supposed to be fishing in Minnesota, and you can see how well that worked for me. The plan right now is to try and recruit Colonel Ellis for Atlantis. That gives us a five to six month window before he’s going to request a transfer out because the Apollo will be finished. That means for five to six months, you’re going to play by the book and smile at every politician you meet.”

“Sir?” John was starting to feel a little panicked.

“Congratulations, Major Sheppard. You’ve just been promoted to my personal staff. Pack your stuff because we’re out of here as soon as we see if this bluff of yours works. Either that or we’ll all get blown up, and this will be the shortest reassignment in the history of the Air Force.” O’Neill still had a manic smile on his face as he strolled out of the room. The man even started whistling.

John had been reassigned to a madman.

John was losing Atlantis.

Even though he knew it had been coming, and even though O’Neill had held out a small hope that he might return, John could still feel the loss like a kick in the guts.

“Get the lead out Sheppard!” O’Neill bellowed.

“Coming, sir.” John trotted to catch up with his new commanding officer. If he wanted to get back to Atlantis, he didn’t have any other choice.