"There have been single Wraith in the city who were killed before they could get word back to their hives," Woolsey said.
"Presumably the hive was out of range?" Jackson shook his head. "I don't like it either, but —"
"Look, Dr. Jackson," John interrupted. "I may be out of line here —" And I don't much care if I am. " — but you and McKay have a bit of a history. Are you sure that's not affecting your recommendation here?"
"Rodney and I —" Jackson began, and O'Neill gave an almost soundless laugh.
"Daniel doesn't hold nearly getting electrocuted against anybody. It's not like he was dead. Again."
"Thanks," Jackson muttered.
"Don't mention it." O'Neill's expression hardened. "So what are you suggesting?"
"I don't think McKay should be part of the team flying the city," Jackson said.
And that was it, John thought. That was where they ended up, not able to trust Rodney just when they needed him most. "You're talking McKay," he said. "The best scientist we have, the guy who knows more about the city than just about anybody. We can't afford not to have him."
"Dr. Zelenka can handle repairs," Woolsey said. "He's been a great success as head of sciences."
"McKay stole Hyperion's weapon," O'Neill said. "And it's not where he said he put it." He shook his head. "If Queen Death still has some hold on him, he could do more damage than anybody else on the city. We can't risk it, Sheppard."
John bit his lip, knowing O'Neill was right, and hating it. Right as far as it went, he amended, because it was Rodney, for God's sake, and Rodney would never — except he could remember all too well a Wraith with Rodney's face, yelling about revenge for his brother, all the drones turning at once to point their weapons, ready for a killing shot.
"It's my decision," O'Neill said. "I'll tell him myself."
"No," John said, and added, "sir." O'Neill lifted an eyebrow, and John plowed on. "I'd rather talk to him, General. If you don't mind."
"I figured you might," O'Neill said. "You don't have to, John."
"I know." John made himself meet the other man's gaze, pleased that his voice was still steady. "But I kind of owe him that much."
"Okay," O'Neill said. "It's your team."
John nodded, remembering tardily that O'Neill had been SG-1. He understood about gate teams. "Thank you, sir."
Chapter Fifteen
Alabaster's Gamble
Almost done. Rodney looked around the ZPM room with satisfaction, trying to ignore Ronon leaning against the nearest pillar. Even though he hadn't been allowed to touch anything, he'd managed to make his ideas clear to Zelenka and the lanky German who was currently working with him, and he thought the systems were about as solid as they could be.
"One more thing. You should set up a phased fallback for if we lose a ZPM, or if there's a massive drain on the shields. Which there's likely to be, considering there's a Wraith fleet waiting out there. The city's already programmed to narrow the shield and abandon the city perimeter —"
"Yes, I do know that," Zelenka said.
"But if you set up a phased pullback —" Rodney stopped, the words registering. "Oh. Right, yes, you were there. Anyway, I think if you manage the powerdown so that no one sector has a decrease of more than 18.8 percent, you could avoid triggering that protocol. And that means you can shape the shield to protect more than just the tower."
Zelenka was nodding. "Yes. Yes, I see what you mean, and perhaps —" He reached for his laptop and began typing in numbers. "Yes, you're right, and I think with some finessing of the system we could maybe even stand a decrease at around twenty percent."
"Twenty? I don't think so."
"See for yourself." Zelenka swung the laptop so that he could see the screen, and Rodney frowned at the numbers.
"Oh. Okay, yeah, that would work, but it's risky."
"If we have to do this, that will be the smallest risk we take," Zelenka said.
"True."
Zelenka spun the laptop away again, and typed a few final commands. "And that, I think, is all we can do now."
"Then McKay should probably go back to — whoever needs him next," Ronon said.
"I am not some kind of weird tool," Rodney began, and realized as Dr. Sommer smirked that he could have chosen his words more carefully.
"There you are," Sheppard said, from the door. He looked at Zelenka. "I thought you weren't going to have him work on the ZPM."
"He is the expert," Zelenka said, rather shortly. "And we are very nearly out of time."
"Yeah." Sheppard bit his lip. "How are you doing, anyway? How close to being done?"
Zelenka shrugged. "Almost there. We are ready to lift the city, at least, and the power is optimized."
"Yeah." Sheppard took a deep breath. "In that case — Rodney, I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."
"Come with you where?" Rodney glared at him. "Is this one of those stupid euphemisms like 'helping the police with their inquiries,' because if it is, I'm not going to be nice about it."
"For God's sake, McKay!" Sheppard swallowed whatever else he was going to say, and when he did speak, his voice was careful and cold. "Yes, it is like that. General O'Neill wants you locked up for the duration. For your own protection as much as anything."
"No, it's not for my protection," Rodney said. "It's because you think I'm still working for the Wraith, and you can't trust me. You're going to lock me up while Atlantis goes into battle, and you're not going to have me when you need me."
"Is that a threat?" Ronon said.
"No! No, it's a statement of fact!" Rodney glared at him. "I'm the person who knows more about this city, more about Ancient technology and more about the kind of physics that sustains this place than anybody else here, and for once I say this without ego, you're going to need me. We're up against six hiveships, and unless Todd's decided to join us — and he hasn't, has he? Then you're going to take damage, and you're going to need me."
Sheppard shook his head. "The reason Todd hasn't joined us is that you stole the damned weapon and put it somewhere —"
"I told you where I put it!" Rodney snapped. "It's not my fault it's not there."
"You shouldn't have taken it in the first place!"
"If I'd left it there, every Wraith in the city would have known the location the minute they looked at you." Rodney stopped, abruptly aware that his calculations might have been at fault.
"McKay." Sheppard was glaring at him now. "You took the weapon. The weapon is now missing. No, we — I am not going to let you run around loose during the battle. You said it yourself, most of us wouldn't be able to tell if you were sabotaging something, and the people who could be sure are going to be too damn busy to watch you."
"This isn't O'Neill's call," Rodney said. "Woolsey's in charge here."
"And he agreed," Sheppard said. "I agreed. So unless you want me to have Ronon stun you and carry you back to the detention area, you'll come with me right now."
"You wouldn't dare." Rodney was breathing hard, short indignant breaths that made him wonder if he was going to have some kind of attack. That was all he'd need, and they'd probably find some way to blame that on the Wraith, too.
"Ronon." Sheppard's face was set. Ronon heaved a sigh, and drew his blaster.
"Wait! Just — just wait a minute." Rodney looked from one to the other. They really meant it, he thought, they really were prepared to shoot him. "All right, fine, I'll go with you. You can lock me up if that's what you want, but you know it's not going to solve the problem."
"It just might," Sheppard said.
Rodney threw up his hands, and started toward the door. "Not likely."
"Look, it protects you, too," Sheppard said.
"Oh, that's really feeble." Rodney glared at Ronon. "Walking carpet!"