Radek stepped carefully through the hatch that led to the Hammond's port weapons control system, three large cups of coffee in his hands. The front panel of the main console had been removed, and rested against the far bulkhead; cables snaked across the floor, the thick ones that carried temporary power and the multi-colored cables that connected laptops and Asgard devices to the internal systems. Miko Kusanagi backed out of the console, holding her finger to her lips. Radek stopped, tipping his head to one side, and she nodded to her right. Radek looked where she was pointing, and saw the young German plasma beam expert asleep on the floorplates, tucked into the corner between the larger display panel and the console itself. Miko had covered him with her jacket — a bit ridiculous, considering that Sommer had to be 185 centimeters, and the outspread jacket barely reached from his shoulder to his waist, but that was Miko for you. Radek set Sommer's coffee carefully on the console, and Miko stood to take hers.
"He was falling asleep on his feet," she said softly. "So I told him to lie down for a bit, until we finish this diagnostic. We don't need him for that."
"No," Radek agreed, and took a sip of his own coffee. He'd put in extra sugar and cream, as much for the energy as to cut the taste of the Hammond's very American brew, and tried to tell himself he could feel new energy coursing through him. What he really felt was exhausted, but he wouldn't let himself acknowledge that. "How are we coming?"
"I had to reconnect the secondary cable," Miko said. "Unfortunately, the original port was damaged, and has not yet been replaced, and I don't believe we have time to do that now."
"Indeed not," Radek said, and she nodded, smiling.
"So unfortunately I haven't yet started the diagnostic. But now that you are here, perhaps you —?"
"No, go ahead," Radek said. He glanced at the young man asleep in the corner. He looked like a teenaged boy, with his too-long brown hair straggling over his collar, too young to have much stubble even now. "And we can let Dr. Sommer sleep a little longer."
"Yes," Miko said, approvingly. She leaned over her laptop, calling up the program. "And the diagnostic is running."
It would take at least twenty minutes, and more likely half an hour, and Radek leaned against the bulkhead on the opposite side of the room. After a moment, Miko came to perch on the edge of the console opposite him.
"Perhaps you should also take some sleep?"
"I'll sleep later," Radek said. "The Wraith can wake me up if they need to kill me."
Miko blinked, and then put her hand over her mouth to hide a silent laugh. "Of course we who are older need less sleep."
"That may be true," Radek said. "Though I never thought I would get used to the idea of sleeping through an impending invasion."
"Nor did I," Miko said. She smiled again, but her eyes were sad. "Do you remember the first time, when they said we could send a message to our families?"
"Yes." Radek gave her a careful look. "Do you wish Mr. Woolsey had done it this time?"
"No." She shook her head. "The situation is different, those who wish to can send emails and the like — there will be databursts going out until the last possible moment, I'm sure. It's not necessary, not the way it was then."
"No." Radek wrapped both hands around his cup of coffee, and let himself slide down until he was sitting on the floorplates. He hadn't realized until he was down just how much his legs had been hurting, and he put his cup aside to massage the muscles of his calves.
Miko made a small sound, almost of disapproval. "You should let me do that, Dr. Zelenka."
Radek looked up at her, small and pale with exhaustion, her hair finally fraying from its tight bun, her glasses smudged. "I think I can take care of myself, Dr. Kusanagi." He smiled to take any hint of rejection from the words. "And anyway, I suspect you are in no better shape."
She hesitated, and then sighed. "I am very tired."
"It's very late."
Miko nodded. "I only — I hope we can finish. There is still so much to be done."
"We'll do everything we can," Radek said. "That's all we can do."
"Yes."
She was silent then, staring at her coffee, and Radek tipped his head back against the wall. His eyes ached, but he knew that if he closed them he would fall asleep where he sat, and unlike Sommer he wasn't young enough to wake fast and refreshed.
"I have been thinking," Miko said, and Radek looked up gratefully. "If I were to send such a message again, I think I would speak more of what I had seen, and not so much about my work."
Radek nodded. He had tried that, though he suspected that young Lieutenant Ford had erased the message as soon as it was made — even knowing better, he had had to try, to say something about the miracle that was this city, Atlantis rising from the waves to save them all. "We have seen marvels," he said, and Miko nodded.
"I do not regret this."
"No more do I." And it was true, Radek thought, whatever happens.
The laptop chimed softly, and Miko looked over alertly. "Ah. The program is finished."
Radek hauled himself to his feet, seeing half a dozen flashing notices — worse than he'd hoped, better than he'd feared — and crossed the compartment to shake Sommer's shoulder. "Wake up, please, Dr. Sommer."
"Ja, ja." The boy sat up, shaking himself like a large damp dog, and came to join them.
"So," Radek said. "Let us get to work."
There were doughnuts in the conference room, four enormous trays tented in plastic wrap and obviously brought straight through from the SGC mess hall. And not just plain doughnuts, but the full assortment, frosted ones with sprinkles, chocolate, coconut-covered, and even jelly-filled. John grabbed two of the ones that oozed dark red jelly, then succumbed to temptation and took a third. If he was going to suffer through another meeting, he was at least going to have his share of the treats. Further down the table, Carter was already halfway through her first doughnut, one hand cupped to catch falling sprinkles, and the new Marine major from SG-5 was polishing off the first of four chocolate. Only Woolsey seemed not to be taking advantage of the unexpected bounty. John slid into a seat next to Zelenka — who had just finished something cream-filled, by the marks on his plate — and tried to deal with the jelly discreetly.
Zelenka gave him a wry look. "I hope this is not a bad sign, this breakfast."
"I try not to think too much about it," John answered, and wiped a blob of jelly off his chin. Zelenka looked like hell, red-eyed and disheveled, but he seemed more cheerful than John would have expected. The engineer smiled.
"I have left Dr. Lee's team to get on with the Hammond. I think we will be in good shape there —"
He broke off as Woolsey cleared his throat, and John stuffed the last of the second donut in his mouth and tried to look attentive.
"As most of you know," Woolsey began, "we started evacuating the infirmary last night, and are on schedule to begin the evacuation of non-essential personnel. Thanks to Dr. Gupta and Dr. Miller, we have completed the first download of key data to the SGC, and will be following that with three more transmissions timed to make use of the Stargate when it is already open for personnel transfers. We have also received further support from the SGC, and I would like to acknowledge both Dr. Lee and his team, and Major Holmes and SG-5 and SG-18."
He nodded to the Marine major, who managed to respond with dignity despite the mouthful of donut.
"Dr. Keller, if you could provide an update on the status of the infirmary transfers, please?"
John glanced down the table. Keller was looking better than he expected, in her Atlantis jacket instead of scrubs, her hair damp from the shower, and her voice was firm when she answered.