Rodney looked up from where he bent over the door with a smile, though he spoke without words. *Teyla likes being in charge. That’s not new, right?*
*Certainly not,* Ember replied, humor in his mental voice though it did not touch his face.
Teyla felt a sense of satisfaction spread through her, familiar and strange at the same time, the dual mental touches of Rodney and Ember, her dear friend upon whom she relied, and Ember who she was coming to like. It was right to reach for them thus, to feel the sense of them.
*And how not?* Ember thought. *This is how it is.*
Rodney got to his feet, a thoughtful expression on his face, and she heard his thought before he concealed it, to know what others thought of him, to feel their acceptance and genuine admiration, to have no doubt of friendship or wonder if someone snickered behind his back…
*You are my dear friend,* Teyla thought to him. *And ever shall be, whether we can speak this way or not.*
The sun dipped behind an outcropping on the caldera rim, casting them into shadow. Rodney turned toward the figures now at the tailgate of the jumper. “Hey Ronon! Bring some lights too!”
Ronon nodded to show his understanding, going aboard to get them from the bench seat storage.
*Do you always carry everything with you?* Ember asked bemusedly.
*We try to,* Rodney said. *Never know what you’ll need, right?*
The day was ending as Ronon belayed Teyla down the shaft. She descended carefully despite the smooth walls, the flashlight clipped to her belt illuminating the walls beneath her. Ten feet, twenty… “I see the floor,” she called up. Another twenty or so feet beneath her was a pitted grid, a round aperture in the midst of it through which protruded the nose of an Ancient drone.
“Great,” Ronon called down.
“Now when you get to the grid,” Rodney called, “if it’s like the ones in Atlantis there will be a panel that swings downward for maintenance. It has a catch on the underside. You’ll need to find the catch, reach through and release it.”
“I will do that,” Teyla promised. Her booted feet were almost at the bottom, and she let herself down the last bit of the way, making certain the grid would take her weight before she stood upon it and unclipped the lines. It gave a little, and she moved her feet off the panel that should open outward. “I have found it,” she called out.
The ropes slithered, Ronon hauling them back up. Teyla reached through and unfastened the latch, then let the panel swing down with a rasping, rusty noise. She shone her flashlight through. It was only five feet or so to the floor, the length of the drone that stood on its carousel lifted into the firing position. Teyla sat down on the edge of the grid, then jumped down to the floor. She put her hand to her radio, as it was probably best to use it at this distance. “I am in the firing chamber,” she said. “All is well.”
A white light jiggled on the wall of the shaft above, and in a few moments she saw Dr. Jackson’s feet as he was belayed down.
Teyla touched her radio again. “Rodney? What is next?”
“If you follow the carousel to the empty side you’ll come out into a storage room,” Rodney replied. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
And leave Ember and Ronon alone above? That seemed unwise. “No, send Ember down next,” Teyla said.
Ronon said something which, via Rodney’s radio, sounded like, “It’s your funeral.”
Teyla shook her head, following the carousel around as Rodney had instructed. She ducked through the opening and was in the storage room. It was empty except for five more drones waiting on the carousel. A very familiar looking door was shut, and though there were intact fixtures there was no light. Well, Rodney would activate them with the ATA gene when he arrived. Teyla tried the door — yes, the manual release was just where it would be in Atlantis. It moved back jerkily on its track.
Dr. Jackson was just behind her. “The lettering on the door says, ‘Caution’”, he said. “This must be the service corridor for the launching system. There’s clearly power. If there’s a working ZPM…”
“That will be very useful indeed,” Teyla said.
There was a sound behind, and Ember ducked through the opening from the shaft. He did not have a flashlight, but then he did not need one. The dim light suited his vision very well. “Is there a ZPM?” he asked.
“We do not know,” Teyla said. “Dr. Jackson is hypothesizing that there may be since it seems that there is power to the systems.”
Ember nodded. “That seems likely. I would guess that the control suite is deeper in the installation, closer to what should be the main entrance. Generally the ZPM is not far from the control room.”
Teyla flashed her light up and down the corridor. There was some Ancient lettering at eye level to the left. “Dr. Jackson, what does that say?”
“It says Watch Your Step,” he replied, his eyes roving over the walls. “Nothing that would give me an idea whether left or right leads us to the control room.”
“And that?” Teyla asked, shining her light over lettering on the floor by the carousel.
“Disconnect Power Before Servicing,” he said. “The Ancients were pretty prosaic sometimes.” He glanced down the corridor. “Let’s try right.”
As Teyla could see no difference between them, there was no sense in arguing for the sake of arguing. She followed Jackson down the hall to the right, Ember behind her.
“I’m starting down,” Rodney said in her earpiece.
The corridor to the right turned and broadened, with several doors along the left hand side before it ended in a downward stair. Flaking paint clung to the ceiling in a shade that might have once been green. Perhaps that meant they were entering less utilitarian parts of the complex? Teyla was forming the question for Dr. Jackson when Ronon’s voice sounded loud in her ear.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said.
At that moment there was a rumble, the carousel coming to life and the drone firing systems coming on line.
“We’ve got a ship incoming,” Ronon said.
Rodney heard the faint clicks, the drone in the firing cradle beneath him coming to life, getting ready to launch. Straight up the tube he was dangling in, still ten feet from the bottom of the shaft. “Oh no no no! This is not happening!”
“Rodney! Get out of there!” Teyla yelled on the radio, for all the help that was. Didn’t she think he’d get out of there just as fast as he could — if he could?
Now the drone’s propulsion systems were coming on. He could feel the wave of heat rising. Wonderful. If the launching drone didn’t simply spear through him and carry what was left of him into orbit, it would probably incinerate him.
“I’ll pull you up!” Ronon yelled. Like he could do that in the approximately one second left.
This was going to be just like that rogue drone that nearly killed Sheppard and O’Neill in Antarctica…
And Rodney knew exactly what to do. STOP he thought with all his strength. STOP. Power down and stop.
The drone’s ignition died. The light that had been building abruptly ceased.
“What happened?” Jackson demanded from below.
“What did you do?” Teyla asked.
Rodney slid down the last ten feet of rope and rested his feet on the grid, hoping his voice was perfectly carefree. “I’ve got the ATA gene. It’s no problem.”
“What?” Ember said.
“He told it to turn off,” Teyla said. She sounded breathless, and as he looked down through the grid she ducked back into the firing chamber hurriedly. “Rodney, are you all right?”
“I’m great,” Rodney said. He unclipped the line and gingerly lowered himself through the hatch.
“We’re not,” Ronon said grimly. “That ship is still incoming.”
“That’s not a good sign,” Ember said.