Sploosh
Chapter 2 - Big Blue Dot
Written 2009.
John Sheppard's head popped around the doorway, bearing a grin and looking a good deal more tan than a few days ago. Catching him in her peripheral vision, though valiantly keeping up the effort on her now sputtering laptop, Elizabeth lifted a hand in greeting, though her elbow never left the desk.
"How were the waves?" she asked.
Perching on the corner her desk, he cleared his throat. "The Athosians are all settled back in, thanks for asking. And if it's waves you're after, you're welcome to come along anytime you want, Elizabeth."
"I think I'll pass," she said, slapping a folder across the desk to get him to stand up. "Anyway, I'm glad you came. We've been having a few problems with the power because of some flooding."
Feigning an indignant open-mouthed expression, John slid the folder back to her but didn't sit down again. He opted to stand, one arm hanging by his side, the other gesturing back over his shoulder. "Yeah, Ford was telling me. Sounds like we won't get the city pumped before the next storm."
"It's beginning to look that way."
Elizabeth glanced up at him to smile wryly, and caught sight of two scientists scurrying across the walkway. She didn't need to see their faces to know who her latest visitors were – both were holding onto an electronic tablet and attempting to pull it away from the other, all the while arguing heatedly.
By the time they reached the door, Rodney had won the tablet.
He presented to the expedition leader, smiling smugly. "This is our problem."
"A big blue dot," Elizabeth mused, trying not to laugh at the contrast of apprehension on Zelenka's face, complete with twitching eyebrows.
"And this is a problem how?" John asked.
Radek dropped a hand on the tablet, explaining, "The creature is of a great mass, enough that it is disrupting the currents and forcing large waves over – "
"Yes, yes, I was about to say that," Rodney interrupted, shaking him off. "You will notice in the time lapse here that the water levels have been rising and falling – and rising still more – in the past forty-eight hours."
Elizabeth directed her next words at John. "You think you can handle going back to work so soon?"
Offering a sarcastic grimace, Sheppard clicked his fingers once towards the scientists. Rodney glowered at him, but Zelenka pried the tablet away to hand over. John stared at it and shrugged. "It's worth taking a look. Where's the big blue dot now?"
"West pier," Zelenka supplied.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It took only a few minutes for John Sheppard to realise he missed the peace and quiet of the mainland, where he was more likely to be followed by a bunch of insects than bored marines with their weapons half-cocked. Added insult to his senses was the abrupt gate-crash as performed by Sgt. Bates who somehow equated every threat as his personal business – not to forget that Rodney was constantly trying to shoulder past everyone to take the lead. The only two people he didn't secretly want vaporised right this moment were Ford and Teyla, who were wisely keeping their distance.
"Is this much manpower really necessary?" John asked broadly.
Predictably, it was Bates who marched up to match his step. "Until we know what threat this poses to Atlantis and its ongoing security, we need to take every precaution."
"And the concept of quietly observing never occurred to anyone here?"
Now there was silence. Or would could be termed "Rodney-silence" because of one scientist's background noise that everyone was far too used to. By the time they reached a pontoon on the West pier, it was a fair bet that every safety was off and so were various inhibitions, worn down by being uprooted by a storm the other week.
"Okay Rodney, where is this big blue dot?" John demanded, tucking his P90 under his arm.
The scientist looked over at him. "Ah, hmm. Judging by the water levels, somewhere around us – which proves that just because you can't see something, doesn't mean it can't drown you in your sleep."
Deciding not to touch that one, John gave the general order to stand ground. Impatient murmurs settled over his ears in a light breeze. Someone shuffled, another person coughed. Ford seemed to be wrestling with his pockets.
"Rodney, have you found anything?" John called.
A dismissive wave was his answer.
The Major repeated the question.
This time, something very big and very nearby roared.
A shimmering grey mass burst from the surface of the ocean, throwing torrents of water over the awaiting personnel. Blinking rapidly and spitting out salty gulps, John mentally cursed at the universe. This happened way too often to him. He rolled his eyes as Rodney ducked behind him.
His eyes then travelled up. And up. And up again.
Flickering scales descended with a bone-crunching smack as the tail – it had to be a tail – swung down onto the pontoon. Bits of grey and light blue panelling and plexiglass went sailing off into the wind like scraps of paper.
Then the head appeared. About the size of car, it bore dirty beige fangs from which a waterfall crashed down on top of them. The rat-tat-tat of concentrated weapons fire preceded minute punctures all down the solid pillar of a neck. Punctures which stayed for a moment before disappearing.
John opened his mouth to call for a cease fire but the wide tail flapped hard against the pontoon, sending him flying back into a forest of legs. His right foot bent beneath him and a hot stab of pain pinged down his heel. Cursing, he grabbed hold of the nearest body and pulled himself up.
Only to be sent flying back onto his arse, this time on the other side of the pontoon. He latched an arm around a metal support and clawed his way back onto the stable ground. Rodney's electronic tablet shot past the side of his face before beginning a short plunge into the water.
McKay himself was soon to follow, but John used his free fist to gather his team mate by the back of his shirt. The soaked material gave and tore, so he snatched more of it.
A sound that would have made thunder run very far away whipped vibrations through John's aching arms – and that horrible screeching roar – then all he could hear was the slapping of water against metal.
"McKay, can you stop squirming?" he commanded.
He heard a tumble of insults and what sounded like a profanity directed at Moby Dick shouted back up at him. Blowing out a terse breath, John counted to three and attempted to hoist Rodney back onto the flat surface. His shoulder protested vehemently and Rodney went swinging again.
"Is this a bad time to offer a hand?" asked a voice from above.
Peering up at Teyla, the Major wasn't sure if he'd ever been more relieved to see someone – well, in the circumstances of dripping onto a wildly struggling and swearing team mate who seemed to have lost his mind. Her hair was just as sodden as everything else, obscuring part of her eyes.
"Very funny, Teyla," John muttered. "A couple of hands would be nice."
He managed to get enough swing on Rodney that Teyla pulled the scientist up and had enough strength and dignity to wriggle up himself. He cast a quick eye over the pontoon and, by some miracle, counted the same number that had come along for the ride.
Shaking out the mop now coating his head, Sheppard snapped, "Rodney! That was a little more than a blue dot, don't you think?"
"The system is used for basic life signs only," Rodney pointed out sharply, "which you would know if you'd bothered to listen to one of my many briefings on the matter!"
John limped out across the walkway, wincing as he tried to keep his weight off the offending limb. He worked his way to the group of flattened marines who seemed to have taken most of the pounding. But it seemed best to stop for a bit and balance on one good foot and a tentative touch of the toes of the other.
"You need to go the infirmary," Teyla told him, drawing up beside him.
"I just twisted it."
"Perhaps we should call Doctor Beckett and let him be the judge of that."
Pulling a face, John tapped the water-slicked headset nestled in his ear and hoped it would work. "Beckett. We have men down, requesting medical assistance."
The radio spat static into his ear but over the hissing and crackling he made out the distinct Scottish lilt that he'd come to expect whenever something went belly up on a mission.
"How serious is the situation?" asked Beckett.
"A few aren't going to be moving any time soon," John answered.
Several sizable waves washed up against the pontoon. Momentarily unbalanced, John listed to one side and would have fallen over onto his already complaining shoulder had Teyla not taken his arm and put it over her shoulders.
A very long pause filled with crackling, then – "And you're sure the beast is gone?"
Covering the mouthpiece with his hand, John called out, "Rodney, it is off the radar right?"
Rodney suddenly looked very busy as he muttered into his own earpiece, presumably consulting Zelenka for the matter. By the creases deepening on his forehead and the constant rolling of his eyes, John took this as a bad sign.
"It's..." He glanced sidewards at Teyla who raised an eyebrow. "It's safe for the moment."
"I'll decide what's bloody safe. We're on our way. Beckett out."
John sneezed and careened against Teyla. He sighed. "Okay, I get the hint. I will have it looked at, but I'd rather talk to my men without...you know."
"Your wounded pride is safe," Teyla teased, setting him straight before withdrawing.
Slowly shuffling down through the marines, John stopped when he came to Ford, who was holding something shiny and pink. Sheppard indicated the device.
"Waterproof camera, my cousin gave it to me last birthday," the Lieutenant explained, skimming the pictures.
"Ford, do I want to know why you decided to bring that down here?"
"Join the military, see the universe?" Ford grinned. "It wouldn't be an adventure without it. And besides, photos or it never happened."
Something akin to bright angry red fireworks started to explode behind John's forehead. Rubbing his temples, he said, "It was a rhetorical question."
"Yes, sir. Taking valuable pics up to the labs for the geeks to analyse."
The salute that Ford offered looked a bit casual, coupled with an infuriatingly positive expression and also happened to flick water in John's direction. The Major decided to let it slide, on account of there being other things to worry about. Aiden started back towards the main spire.
"And Ford – " The Lieutenant stopped and turned around. John conceded, "Good thinking."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It didn't take long for teams decked out in the customary medical garb to turn up and start wheeling people off. The sky decided to look almost black and dropped a few splatters of water but didn't do much more than threaten. Waving everyone off, John checked in on the last soldier whose eyes were open but staring at nothing.
"Careful now, keep him steady," Beckett ordered those shifting the soldier onto a stretcher. "Okay, take him to the infirmary. I'll be there momentarily."
The Chief Medical Officer stood up, shaking out his pants which were soaked from the bottom up to his knees. He tapped the stretcher as a signal and it was swiftly jogged away. With everyone else either in a shower or incapacitated, this left one thing, and John hoped it wasn't what he suspected.
Carson began his attack. "Teyla tells me you took quite a fall."
"I'm fine," John defended. "Nothing Tylenol can't get rid of for a bit."
This answer earned him the reproving stare which morphed into an extremely scary expression as Dr Beckett advanced on him. John had seen bigger doctors in his life but the CMO was a force to be reckoned with. After a trying moment or two, John managed to stand up straight, but in a relaxed pose with his hands hooked onto his belt.
"If I'm not mistaken, and I rarely am, you're favouring the right leg," Carson stated firmly.
A taut muscle twitched somewhere in John's ankle and he bit hard on his lip. "I don't have time for this, Beckett, and if you think I'm going to spend the next week sitting – "
The pontoon shook violently and a fresh squeal tore through the air before settling into a deep roar, which made the surface beneath their feet buck even more. Without a helpful and understanding team mate nearby, John Sheppard ended up on his already dodgy shoulder with his legs scissoring in the air. He reached out for his P90 – for whatever use it could be – but his fingers slipped and the weapon went clattering off towards Beckett who was back on his knees ten metres away.
"Good Lord, what is it?" Carson exclaimed.
The broad head struck down at them, chiselled fangs stabbing towards its target...which, conveniently, was not the good doctor but John once again who really had enough of this.
"Shoot it!" he shouted over at the CMO.
Beckett's eyes widened at him.
John slapped the ground with his hand. "Pick up the damn thing and shoot!"
Watching Carson gingerly pick up the gun with no more than three fingers and then drop it, John inwardly cursed and rolled hard down the pontoon towards him. He scooped up the P90 and aimed. Waiting just a moment for the slimy grey missile to streak for them, he sent a burst right down its gullet.
A gush of foul air smothered them as the sea monster howled before it sloshed back into the ocean.
"I'll have that Tylenol now," Major Sheppard said.
"How were the waves?" she asked.
Perching on the corner her desk, he cleared his throat. "The Athosians are all settled back in, thanks for asking. And if it's waves you're after, you're welcome to come along anytime you want, Elizabeth."
"I think I'll pass," she said, slapping a folder across the desk to get him to stand up. "Anyway, I'm glad you came. We've been having a few problems with the power because of some flooding."
Feigning an indignant open-mouthed expression, John slid the folder back to her but didn't sit down again. He opted to stand, one arm hanging by his side, the other gesturing back over his shoulder. "Yeah, Ford was telling me. Sounds like we won't get the city pumped before the next storm."
"It's beginning to look that way."
Elizabeth glanced up at him to smile wryly, and caught sight of two scientists scurrying across the walkway. She didn't need to see their faces to know who her latest visitors were – both were holding onto an electronic tablet and attempting to pull it away from the other, all the while arguing heatedly.
By the time they reached the door, Rodney had won the tablet.
He presented to the expedition leader, smiling smugly. "This is our problem."
"A big blue dot," Elizabeth mused, trying not to laugh at the contrast of apprehension on Zelenka's face, complete with twitching eyebrows.
"And this is a problem how?" John asked.
Radek dropped a hand on the tablet, explaining, "The creature is of a great mass, enough that it is disrupting the currents and forcing large waves over – "
"Yes, yes, I was about to say that," Rodney interrupted, shaking him off. "You will notice in the time lapse here that the water levels have been rising and falling – and rising still more – in the past forty-eight hours."
Elizabeth directed her next words at John. "You think you can handle going back to work so soon?"
Offering a sarcastic grimace, Sheppard clicked his fingers once towards the scientists. Rodney glowered at him, but Zelenka pried the tablet away to hand over. John stared at it and shrugged. "It's worth taking a look. Where's the big blue dot now?"
"West pier," Zelenka supplied.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It took only a few minutes for John Sheppard to realise he missed the peace and quiet of the mainland, where he was more likely to be followed by a bunch of insects than bored marines with their weapons half-cocked. Added insult to his senses was the abrupt gate-crash as performed by Sgt. Bates who somehow equated every threat as his personal business – not to forget that Rodney was constantly trying to shoulder past everyone to take the lead. The only two people he didn't secretly want vaporised right this moment were Ford and Teyla, who were wisely keeping their distance.
"Is this much manpower really necessary?" John asked broadly.
Predictably, it was Bates who marched up to match his step. "Until we know what threat this poses to Atlantis and its ongoing security, we need to take every precaution."
"And the concept of quietly observing never occurred to anyone here?"
Now there was silence. Or would could be termed "Rodney-silence" because of one scientist's background noise that everyone was far too used to. By the time they reached a pontoon on the West pier, it was a fair bet that every safety was off and so were various inhibitions, worn down by being uprooted by a storm the other week.
"Okay Rodney, where is this big blue dot?" John demanded, tucking his P90 under his arm.
The scientist looked over at him. "Ah, hmm. Judging by the water levels, somewhere around us – which proves that just because you can't see something, doesn't mean it can't drown you in your sleep."
Deciding not to touch that one, John gave the general order to stand ground. Impatient murmurs settled over his ears in a light breeze. Someone shuffled, another person coughed. Ford seemed to be wrestling with his pockets.
"Rodney, have you found anything?" John called.
A dismissive wave was his answer.
The Major repeated the question.
This time, something very big and very nearby roared.
A shimmering grey mass burst from the surface of the ocean, throwing torrents of water over the awaiting personnel. Blinking rapidly and spitting out salty gulps, John mentally cursed at the universe. This happened way too often to him. He rolled his eyes as Rodney ducked behind him.
His eyes then travelled up. And up. And up again.
Flickering scales descended with a bone-crunching smack as the tail – it had to be a tail – swung down onto the pontoon. Bits of grey and light blue panelling and plexiglass went sailing off into the wind like scraps of paper.
Then the head appeared. About the size of car, it bore dirty beige fangs from which a waterfall crashed down on top of them. The rat-tat-tat of concentrated weapons fire preceded minute punctures all down the solid pillar of a neck. Punctures which stayed for a moment before disappearing.
John opened his mouth to call for a cease fire but the wide tail flapped hard against the pontoon, sending him flying back into a forest of legs. His right foot bent beneath him and a hot stab of pain pinged down his heel. Cursing, he grabbed hold of the nearest body and pulled himself up.
Only to be sent flying back onto his arse, this time on the other side of the pontoon. He latched an arm around a metal support and clawed his way back onto the stable ground. Rodney's electronic tablet shot past the side of his face before beginning a short plunge into the water.
McKay himself was soon to follow, but John used his free fist to gather his team mate by the back of his shirt. The soaked material gave and tore, so he snatched more of it.
A sound that would have made thunder run very far away whipped vibrations through John's aching arms – and that horrible screeching roar – then all he could hear was the slapping of water against metal.
"McKay, can you stop squirming?" he commanded.
He heard a tumble of insults and what sounded like a profanity directed at Moby Dick shouted back up at him. Blowing out a terse breath, John counted to three and attempted to hoist Rodney back onto the flat surface. His shoulder protested vehemently and Rodney went swinging again.
"Is this a bad time to offer a hand?" asked a voice from above.
Peering up at Teyla, the Major wasn't sure if he'd ever been more relieved to see someone – well, in the circumstances of dripping onto a wildly struggling and swearing team mate who seemed to have lost his mind. Her hair was just as sodden as everything else, obscuring part of her eyes.
"Very funny, Teyla," John muttered. "A couple of hands would be nice."
He managed to get enough swing on Rodney that Teyla pulled the scientist up and had enough strength and dignity to wriggle up himself. He cast a quick eye over the pontoon and, by some miracle, counted the same number that had come along for the ride.
Shaking out the mop now coating his head, Sheppard snapped, "Rodney! That was a little more than a blue dot, don't you think?"
"The system is used for basic life signs only," Rodney pointed out sharply, "which you would know if you'd bothered to listen to one of my many briefings on the matter!"
John limped out across the walkway, wincing as he tried to keep his weight off the offending limb. He worked his way to the group of flattened marines who seemed to have taken most of the pounding. But it seemed best to stop for a bit and balance on one good foot and a tentative touch of the toes of the other.
"You need to go the infirmary," Teyla told him, drawing up beside him.
"I just twisted it."
"Perhaps we should call Doctor Beckett and let him be the judge of that."
Pulling a face, John tapped the water-slicked headset nestled in his ear and hoped it would work. "Beckett. We have men down, requesting medical assistance."
The radio spat static into his ear but over the hissing and crackling he made out the distinct Scottish lilt that he'd come to expect whenever something went belly up on a mission.
"How serious is the situation?" asked Beckett.
"A few aren't going to be moving any time soon," John answered.
Several sizable waves washed up against the pontoon. Momentarily unbalanced, John listed to one side and would have fallen over onto his already complaining shoulder had Teyla not taken his arm and put it over her shoulders.
A very long pause filled with crackling, then – "And you're sure the beast is gone?"
Covering the mouthpiece with his hand, John called out, "Rodney, it is off the radar right?"
Rodney suddenly looked very busy as he muttered into his own earpiece, presumably consulting Zelenka for the matter. By the creases deepening on his forehead and the constant rolling of his eyes, John took this as a bad sign.
"It's..." He glanced sidewards at Teyla who raised an eyebrow. "It's safe for the moment."
"I'll decide what's bloody safe. We're on our way. Beckett out."
John sneezed and careened against Teyla. He sighed. "Okay, I get the hint. I will have it looked at, but I'd rather talk to my men without...you know."
"Your wounded pride is safe," Teyla teased, setting him straight before withdrawing.
Slowly shuffling down through the marines, John stopped when he came to Ford, who was holding something shiny and pink. Sheppard indicated the device.
"Waterproof camera, my cousin gave it to me last birthday," the Lieutenant explained, skimming the pictures.
"Ford, do I want to know why you decided to bring that down here?"
"Join the military, see the universe?" Ford grinned. "It wouldn't be an adventure without it. And besides, photos or it never happened."
Something akin to bright angry red fireworks started to explode behind John's forehead. Rubbing his temples, he said, "It was a rhetorical question."
"Yes, sir. Taking valuable pics up to the labs for the geeks to analyse."
The salute that Ford offered looked a bit casual, coupled with an infuriatingly positive expression and also happened to flick water in John's direction. The Major decided to let it slide, on account of there being other things to worry about. Aiden started back towards the main spire.
"And Ford – " The Lieutenant stopped and turned around. John conceded, "Good thinking."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It didn't take long for teams decked out in the customary medical garb to turn up and start wheeling people off. The sky decided to look almost black and dropped a few splatters of water but didn't do much more than threaten. Waving everyone off, John checked in on the last soldier whose eyes were open but staring at nothing.
"Careful now, keep him steady," Beckett ordered those shifting the soldier onto a stretcher. "Okay, take him to the infirmary. I'll be there momentarily."
The Chief Medical Officer stood up, shaking out his pants which were soaked from the bottom up to his knees. He tapped the stretcher as a signal and it was swiftly jogged away. With everyone else either in a shower or incapacitated, this left one thing, and John hoped it wasn't what he suspected.
Carson began his attack. "Teyla tells me you took quite a fall."
"I'm fine," John defended. "Nothing Tylenol can't get rid of for a bit."
This answer earned him the reproving stare which morphed into an extremely scary expression as Dr Beckett advanced on him. John had seen bigger doctors in his life but the CMO was a force to be reckoned with. After a trying moment or two, John managed to stand up straight, but in a relaxed pose with his hands hooked onto his belt.
"If I'm not mistaken, and I rarely am, you're favouring the right leg," Carson stated firmly.
A taut muscle twitched somewhere in John's ankle and he bit hard on his lip. "I don't have time for this, Beckett, and if you think I'm going to spend the next week sitting – "
The pontoon shook violently and a fresh squeal tore through the air before settling into a deep roar, which made the surface beneath their feet buck even more. Without a helpful and understanding team mate nearby, John Sheppard ended up on his already dodgy shoulder with his legs scissoring in the air. He reached out for his P90 – for whatever use it could be – but his fingers slipped and the weapon went clattering off towards Beckett who was back on his knees ten metres away.
"Good Lord, what is it?" Carson exclaimed.
The broad head struck down at them, chiselled fangs stabbing towards its target...which, conveniently, was not the good doctor but John once again who really had enough of this.
"Shoot it!" he shouted over at the CMO.
Beckett's eyes widened at him.
John slapped the ground with his hand. "Pick up the damn thing and shoot!"
Watching Carson gingerly pick up the gun with no more than three fingers and then drop it, John inwardly cursed and rolled hard down the pontoon towards him. He scooped up the P90 and aimed. Waiting just a moment for the slimy grey missile to streak for them, he sent a burst right down its gullet.
A gush of foul air smothered them as the sea monster howled before it sloshed back into the ocean.
"I'll have that Tylenol now," Major Sheppard said.