I'm making my (not so) triumphant return to fanfiction by posting a story that I'm probably never going to finish, but enjoyed the concept enough that I figured others might, too. This may or may not expand into a fic dump, one (incomplete) story per chapter, because I've been sitting on SGA stuff for years now and what exists might as well see daylight.

"True beauty is on the inside. In your case, that's a truly beautiful government tracking device."

- Welcome to Night Vale Podcast wtnv twitter

Major General Landry wasn't going to be pleased with John's decision. John wasn't exactly thrilled with himself either, but if it came down to choosing Team or something—someone—else, Team would always come first. He'd carried that resolution with him through Afghanistan and Antarctica and Atlantis, triply so in Atlantis, and he'd stand by it in the future. Jeannie wasn't technically Team, per say, but she was Rodney's sister, and Rodney was Team. Losing either of them wasn't a mission cost that John could live with. He made his decision, and Wallace made his. Still.

Landry was going to be pissed, and while it might take a few days the excrement would at some point hit the rotating blades. John had maybe worded certain things in certain ways in his AAR that sanitized the whole situation to the IOA's preferences (the entire Expedition were old hats at that by now, but AR-1 were the undisputed Masters of Creative Writing for Interfering Civilian Bureaucrats.) SGC wasn't exactly new to this either, though perhaps new to the Expedition's specific methods of making things sound less upsetting than they actually were, and so it was only a matter of time before Landry bothered to read between the lines enough to figure out what, exactly, had happened and call John up on the rug for it.

Technically it had been an Expedition problem, even if it had been in the Mountain's local area, so Landry couldn't do anything too severe, and nothing to compromise the safety of the Expedition as a whole. He hoped. Captains Raleigh, Alves and Erskine were really looking forward to that promised shipment of AT4s.

This left John with a very small window to help Rodney see Jeannie settled safe and sound back at home, arrange transport for Todd back to Pegasus, and get in a quick bit of personal shopping (Teyla would kill him if he came back without popcorn; Lorne would kill him if he didn't at least try to acquire some of the non-requisitionable but very necessary items on the list the Major had put together).

And, of course, to deal with one last issue that had gotten under his skin.

"Look, how can you actually trust this company now? There's going to be new management, new leadership, maybe even an entirely new board." Which might be a bit extreme, but would be an entirely appropriate response by Devlin Medical Technologies given what their previous president had managed to pull. At least if they wanted to stay employed by and in the favour of SGC.

Carter sighed, ignoring the sounds of Rodney and Jeannie further down the hallway, both abnormally quiet though for very different reasons.

She had come back as part of the group to return Todd to the City, armed with both weapons and hard copies of reports she wanted to hand deliver to the appropriate scientists on base. "That," she had admitted in an aside to John, "And to check in on Daniel."

"I hear he's a trouble magnet," John said, quirking a grin.

Carter smiled. "It's actually almost time for his Annual Wake, if you want to stay another couple days."

Thinking of Landry's imminent explosion, "I'm good, but, uh, can I talk to you about something?"

Carter had listened up to the point where John had broached the issue with DMT, then shut him down. "John, I get what you're saying, but it's not feasible to remove everyone's subques and replace them with new ones. Other ones. We don't even have a company on standby to make others. At least this way, we know that DMT has issues and can monitor them."

There were ways to get around monitors, John wanted to argue. He knew there was, had seen and even helped figure out some of those ways, once upon a time when he had thought he could find a middle ground. Carter knew his past, though, one of the very few in the City, and she probably knew what he did. So was she just that confident in SGC's ability to keep tabs on DMT, or did she know something about the future of DMT that John didn't?

"Alright, I was just…."

Carter did slow in her hurried pacing to Rodney and Jeannie, turning to smile at him. "It's your job to worry about the safety and security of the Expedition, I get it. But it's my job too, and I think we'll be okay from here on out."

The subject was dropped as the siblings came into view, quietly conversing as Rodney leaned over to help support a still shaky Jean. Rodney was clearly anxious, Jeannie affectionately scolding. Carter was quick to join the conversation, but John hung back, still feeling ill at ease around his Team Geek. Rodney studiously ignored his presence, though Jeannie took a moment to aim a quick, confused smile his way, before returning her attention to her slow, stumbling pacing down the hallway.

Rodney had broken her leg to give the nanites something to fix, and they had. But as with all injuries there was more to recovery than waiting for the tissues to mend, and while it wasn't standard physiotherapy, it was enough to start.

John had already called up to Vancouver to see if there was a physiotherapist that would see to Jeannie afterwards. One of the Canadians upstairs in NORAD had actually helped, finding one that was registered with CPTBC and was therefore covered—John wasn't sure how that worked, wasn't Canadian healthcare socialized? But at least that was something done and out of the way, and when Jeannie returned home the next day, everything else would be ready for her.

John nodded to her, waved at Carter (and Rodney's back), and turned around to head back to his temporary quarters to pack. He hadn't brought much with him, but he wanted to be ready to go the moment the 'Gate was available. After his shopping trip.

Rodney would be staying back another week or so, mostly in Vancouver and sometimes at the Mountain, as would Carter while SGC took the chance to question Todd. Teyla, Lorne, Zelenka and Keller would be able to handle things if John stayed a bit longer, but being away from Atlantis was uncomfortable at best. The sooner he got back to Pegasus and away from Landry, the better.

Besides, with both Carter and McKay Earthside, it meant John would have largely uncontested control of the Expedition for the next couple days, and he had a project for Engineering, Ops/Tech and the ATA labs that would probably be best completed before either scientist returned.

Lorne was willing to follow his lead on this, as were Teyla and Ronon. Keller looked dubious, but, "As long as it's voluntary, I don't mind performing the actual surgeries."

Zelenka had stared at John across the conference table, wide eyed as though he'd been asked to build a life-size, perfectly functioning duplicate of Atlantis. "No," he finally managed, looking around the table for support. Non-existent support; Teyla and Ronon didn't have a reason to see a problem, Keller had already voiced her opinion, and Lorne was just as upset about the whole thing as John. "No, Colonel, what you are asking for…." He trailed off, unable to find the words to express his reluctance.

"It is a modification, is it not?" Teyla asked, peaceably. "Similar to how you have merged your technology with Atlantis'?"

Zelenka waved her off. "No, no, is against policy. The whole point of beacons is to let our ships find us. What you are asking for would make it impossible!"

"I'm not asking you to completely change our subques," he offered. "Just. Change them a bit."

"Colonel."

John looked to Lorne for support.

"Look, Doc, these DMT people used their knowledge of the Program to kidnap Mrs. Miller and McKay. When people go back Earthside it's usually on leave, so no one is actively monitoring them unless they have a reason to. If DMT—or anyone else—decides to use their knowledge of our subques to track someone down and kidnap them, we wouldn't know about it until they didn't show up at SGC."

"And," John was quick to throw in, "If we implant our own subques instead of letting the Mountain do it, all files and chip numbers or whatever would stay with us on our end. No more worries about family and friends being targeted to get to us."

"Less worries," Ronon grunted.

John rolled his eyes. "Less worries, fine."

"That still does not let Daedalus or other ships find us with subcutaneous transmitter if transmitter has a different frequency!" Zelenka flailed, jabbing at the diagrams on the holoscreen. "And for family to be targeted, there must be leak at SGC!"

"If that is the issue, could you not just give Daedalus the new frequency?" Teyla asked, glancing between everyone.

"We could," John agreed.

Zelenka muttered something in Czech, but did nod his head.

"But if there's a leak at the SGC… well, Daedalus would have to tell them the new frequency too, right?" Keller fiddled with her fingers, even now still getting used to sitting in Carson's seat in Command Staff briefings and being awkward about it. "So if SGC knows, wouldn't it just leak out anyway?"

"Carter knows there's a leak, even beyond DMT," John admitted, leaning back and reflecting on that frustrating hallway conversation. "Everyone at SGC does, given what we had to do to… fix the situation." He was honestly surprised Landry hadn't yet called to ream him out about Wallace. John was privately counting the minutes, seeing how long it would take the General to get around to actually reading his AAR.

Lorne was nodding along beside him. "We're still something of the black sheep out here, so SGC is going to be invested in keeping information about the Expedition and our people as secret and locked up as possible. Not that they don't like us," he added at Keller and Zelenka's expressions, "It's just, uh…."

"They don't like us," Ronon finished.

"They do not like to be confronted with something they feel like they should be able to control, but cannot," Teyla stated diplomatically.

John shrugged. "Whatever the reason, Carter expects SGC to have found the leak and plug it shortly, since it was probably mostly connected to DMT anyway. SGC is insisting on appointing certain people to DMT's board, so they'll be able to influence things in the company that way."

"Then why new subcutaneous transmitters?" Zelenka grumbled, poking at his datapad.

Ronon leaned forward, looming over the table from his standing position. "Because if this happened once, it can happen again."

Zelenka still looked doubtful, but less obverse, clearly starting to lean towards going along with John's scheme. "I do not know…."

"Oh!" Keller gasped, turning to Zelenka while still managing to shoot John and Lorne a suspiciously amused glance. "Actually, if you're reworking the subques, I have an idea I'd like to try and incorporate."

Teyla grabbed John's arm under the table, stopping his objection with a slight shake of her head. He desisted, slumping back into his seat to watch the Doctors at play. He might not always like Keller's ideas, but that was no reason to shut her down when she was finally finding her feet as part of Senior Staff.

"Well, it's definitely not my field of expertise, but I was going through some of Doctor Carson Beckett's old notes—"

Zelenka actually brightened at that, suddenly more into this project. John stifled a groan, Lorne stiffening beside him. Carson had been a good friend, an excellent surgeon and Command Team member of the highest calibre, but his main field of study was—

"You wish to incorporate something to do with ATA gene?" Zelenka asked, laying his datapad flat on the table and ready to take notes.

Keller nodded, shifting her chair closer to him. "Carson noted that it wasn't just ATA technology that reacted to ATA gene carriers, but that it also worked in reverse. The few times he'd been offworld with gene carriers, they seemed to be calmer and more settled if there was Ancient tech in the immediate area. And back in SGC, after the crew of the Tria was found—" John wasn't the only one to wince at that memory, "—while everyone from the Expedition demonstrated difficulties readapting to Earth, gene carriers in particular had problems that ended up with them in the infirmary. Except when carriers were assigned to work in SGC's ATA lab, where they seemed to actually remember things we take for granted."

"Like doorknobs existing," Zelenka commented, joining Keller in grinning at their Military leaders.

"Ha. Ha," John deadpanned.

Keller dragged the datapad towards her, tapping on the screen. "Well, I was going to say lightswitches…."

"Funny," Lorne said, absently rubbing his wrist.

Out of the corner of his eye, John noted Teyla and Ronon smiling and trying to hide it. He couldn't get revenge on them like he could Rodney, but he could be creative. Maybe one of the Mexican soap operas that some of Anthropology brought with them.

"So!" Keller glanced around again, seeing if she still had everyone's attention. She did; she flushed at the scrutiny, but continued, "So, I was thinking, what if we found something small, you know, a little device or a chip of some ancient technology that we could wire into the subques. Well, originally I was thinking just finding a small device and shoving it in a pocket, but that would be too easy to lose or have stolen, so if we can incorporate something into the transmitter—"

"Then it would be there permanently," Zelenka cut in, frowning as he thought. "It would have to be something that doesn't have effect or can permanently turn off."

Keller nodded. "Exactly. But if we can come up with something, then we can maybe… implant some of these in some gene carriers, and implant some without ancient tech in others, and compare the two groups—"

"Colonel should not be part of experiment," Zelenka was quick to argue.

"Too important?" Ronon asked with a grin.

Zelenka shook his head, smirking. "Too strong gene, throw all results off."

"I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now," John quipped. Then ducked his head at the frowns and glares aimed his way.

"Or, we can use the Colonel as our first test subject," Keller said, almost absentmindedly. "See what works on a gene that strong, and then scale it down as needed for everyone else."

"Or don't scale down," Zelenka continued. "Then as long as Colonel is beside someone with ATA transmitter, will maybe have same effect?"

"Oh, good thought, Radek," Keller exclaimed, making a note. "But then we'd need to make everyone's transmitter the ATA one, and we still don't know if we have the tech for that."

"We plan, and adapt as we find."

"Well, sir," Lorne said from beside John, leaning forward to get a better look at his CO's face, "Looks like we'll be getting new subques, just like you wanted."

"Great," John groaned, but couldn't find it in him to be upset at how it had happened.

After some experimentation (and many trips through the 'Gate to a planet that definitely did not have any Ancient tech beside the 'Gate on it), they figured out that a shard of one of the many (many) broken control crystals was enough to mimic the subtle song of Ancient tech that permeated every inch of the City, if the crystal was first grafted into an electrical loop and then initialized by a gene carrier.

("We need to come up with a better name for us," John complained to Lorne and Kusanagi, the three of them sitting on stools in the ATA labs holding slivers of crystal in their hands and thinking ON at them as loudly as possible.

"You prefer Magic Lightswitch, sir?"

"I prefer something that makes me feel less like an alien."

"Are we not all aliens in the City, Colonel?"

"We're probably the furthest from being aliens to Atlantis, actually."

"That doesn't help, Major.")

The actual coding and reconstruction of the subcutaneous transmitters was fairly simple and straightforward. Zelenka had even gone so far as to add specific ID markers that would only show up on Atlantis' monitoring systems, allowing them to pinpoint not just where but who those life signs were. That in turn required additional coding and protection, as well as an interface and housing for the crystal shard, but Zelenka and his team dedicated a day to it and managed to finish their customizations long before the trio in the ATA labs had initialized enough crystal to be incorporated.

As Keller and Zelenka had decided in the meeting that felt so very long ago, John was their first guinea pig. Considering Expedition policy was for everyone to have subques if they went offworld (or even up to the Mainland), it meant John was relegated to sitting in the infirmary as Keller cut his shoulder open, removed the DMT subque, and temporarily stapled him back together as the transmitter was cleaned, sterilized, and handed off to Zelenka's team for analysis and upgrades.

"Once we see how is best to modify, then we will be able to make transmitters ahead of time," Zelenka had explained when asked why, exactly, there wasn't one ready to go in immediately. "But we need functioning transmitter to start, and you were being cut open anyway."

"And while you could technically walk around Atlantis, I don't want to stitch you back up only to have to cut you open again," Keller added, stripping her gloves off. "So as long as you have a hole beside your scapula, you're going to be stuck here in isolation."

When he was feeling maudlin, sometimes John tried to picture what the Expeditions' conversations would sound like to outsiders, out of context. Probably insane.

Thankfully Zelenka's team only took an hour to make the necessary adjustments and additions, presenting the suddenly bigger than a grain of rice subque to John and Keller with great fanfare. Keller picked it up with tweezers, examining it from every angle.

"And there's definitely nothing here that will interfere with muscle movement or create health problems?"

Zelenka nodded, pulling up the schematics on screen. "We made sure is smooth and thoroughly integrated. Size is for additional microchip and crystal shard housing. Is as small as we could make it, without losing functionality."

"Hm," Keller considered it, then John. "Do you think you'd be able to feel it, if I put it back in where it was?"

It was still shaped like a grain of rice, but now was as long as his pinky finger's distal phalanx and as wide as his finger nail. The thin casing shimmered in the light—not quite plastic then, or maybe the Ancient equivalent of plastic? Non-conductive, John saw on the schematics, but beyond that he had no idea. Still, with the size and everything….

"Er, maybe we can stick it somewhere else?"

Keller smiled, patting him on his good shoulder. "Alright. What about your bicep?"

"Should go somewhere fleshy," Zelenka offered, checking over his schematics. Which was worrying. "So it will not interfere with muscle or tendons or—"

"Somewhere that if I lose a limb I'm not going to lose the subque," John requested. He'd seen a lot of battlefield amputations, had even helped with some of them, and they were messy and painful and sucked so much, but always necessary. Hunting through a dismembered limb to find a tiny piece of not-plastic was not exactly how he ever wanted to spend time post-op.

Keller raised an eyebrow at him, but shared a look with Zelenka before they both proclaimed, "You need to shave."

His first instinct was his head, but Keller was eyeing his chest, and not in an appreciative way.

"I like my chest hair," John pleaded.

"You regrow it," Zelenka said, already turning around to go find a razor.

Keller set the subque in a small dish of disinfectant. "And when I was back home last, all my friends were liking men with less hair, not more."

John wasn't sure how to argue that he really didn't care, that he had no problem getting attention from the fairer sex, that he didn't particularly want attention from the fairer sex (or anyone) at the moment. But Keller was still grinning, and apparently a decision had been made.

Still, one last attempt: "I don't have much fat. It's all muscle, see?" And a flex for good measure. "Ow."

"I'm tempted to just put it back in where it was, let you deal with the pain," she said as she moved around to inspect the now bleeding wound on his back. "Two staples! Colonel, really."

"I… forgot it was there?"

"The anaesthetic wore off twenty minutes ago."

"I'm used to being injured."

She paused in fixing up his wound to lean over and actually glare at him. "I know. I've read your chart."

Right, maybe not a smart point to make to an Expedition doctor.

Zelenka returned then, bearing a straight razor and tub of shaving cream. "Is best I could find so quickly."

Keller rolled her eyes but grabbed them. "Well, we'd have to wash and disinfect afterward anyway," she mused, turning back to John. "Alright, Colonel. Do you want just the one patch shaved, or everything?"

"…why everything?"

"You really want a random patch of clear skin on your chest?"

John laid down, closing his eyes and ignoring the new compress on his shoulder. "Just do it."

As it turned out, Keller's idea of adding something for the gene carriers immediately worked out. John, Teyla and Ronon were called on to visit M93-044, an early but mostly tentative trading partner where their two major political bodies had a relationship similar to that between the US and Russia on Earth during the late 1940s. Not quite Cold War levels yet, but not exactly close allies.

The 'Gate was positioned in territory that was controlled by a much smaller but influential—and neutral—clan. Ford, when they had first realized the dynamics of the planet, had referred to the clan as Pegasus Switzerland, been forced to explain the reference, and then treated as most honoured allies for apparently understanding the clan's position.

Since they'd lost Ford they had lost most of the affection Pegasus Switzerland had for them, but they did keep in contact for trading and news about the rest of the galaxy.

"Colonel," the village headman greeted them, looking around for McKay and not finding him. John had to fight to hold himself in check at the relief on the man's face. McKay was difficult, but that reaction was too much.

Teyla noticed his frustration and was quick to jump in. "Headman Jumin, it is always wonderful to see you."

The first hour of the visit was what Teyla called Ensuring Everyone is Aware of Problems in Pegasus and John and Ford had called Galaxy Gossip. Pegasus Switzerland didn't have much to trade in and of themselves, keeping their numbers small and only practicing a subsistence lifestyle since they were most likely to be targeted by the Wraith, but the other two clans had a decent surplus of goods that required trading. Pegasus Switzerland was the planet's designated traders, risking themselves to venture to other worlds more likely to be culled and getting to keep a portion of what was traded for in return. They tended to frequent different markets than the Expedition—they were still actually on the good side of the Genii and their allies, instead of working off an extremely tentative peace treaty—so heard different things than the City.

The Lonu were about to bring in a new harvest of Tuttle Root, which was wonderful news (the Athosians had tried to transplant it to Lantea's Mainland, but it had never taken; apparently it had taken on New Athos and New Lantea, but with the loss of Athos it made the Lonu practically the sole suppliers). The planet and people of no name but the Expedition called M81-419 had gotten on the Genii's bad side by supposedly reneging on a trade deal, and so was largely out of the Genii's favour and alliance. P36-013 and M36-933, a planet and habitable moon from neighbouring systems, had both been culled. And on and on for longer than Ronon could concentrate.

And, once upon a time, longer than John could. But the soft hum of the crystal echoed soothingly against his sternum and through his chest into his limbs, peaceful in a way that not even meditation in the cloister had been.

The subject was still largely boring, but it wasn't so difficult to sit and listen for the nuggets of useful information, not as much as it used to be. Headman Jumin noticed, and made an effort to engage John more in the conversation, even sharing a couple jokes with them. Ronon actually nodded off after three quarters of an hour, but John's apparent interest was rewarded with interest. The second hour evolved into the 'getting to bond with and trust you' discussion that AR-1 had been denied after Ford's loss. Ronon did wake up for that, holding forth on various weapons and their uses, the best strategies to avoid and/or kill Wraith, and comparing Satedan poetry against Pegasus Switzerland's oral tradition's style.

The third hour was when dinner came out and they got down to business: the other two clans were starting to trade between them instead of requiring offworld trade, so Pegasus Switzerland was at a bit of a loss how to make up for the loss. It wasn't valuables or trinkets they were needing, but grain and fruits, as they had vegetables and meat aplenty. But, with a subsistence lifestyle, they didn't have much to trade themselves.

"We normally need those sorts of things ourselves," John admitted, thinking fast. "But, uh…."

"Pellen regularly has a large crop of suida berries," Teyla mused, "And I think the Kahgari are moving into their harvest seasons."

"And Clkshik," Ronon added.

Clkshik—or that-planet-with-the-name-we-can't-hope-to-pronounce-properly—had become AR-1's trading contact strictly for the fact that Ronon could pronounce their name, which was something they held in high esteem. Aside from that, the Clkshiki weren't particular about anything else aside from a fair trade agreement, and the Botanists and Ecologists and Marines actually worked together to put together a slide show about different agricultural techniques that the Clkshiki might be interested in. They liked the, admittedly primitive, thresher design for their grains, and the Expedition liked their grains—closest to wheat they'd ever found in Pegasus.

Even with the threshers they still needed help with the harvest—the last culling had only been a couple decades back, and they were still rebuilding both buildings and population—and the Marines were more than happy to be the extra manpower.

Khagari's trade was more and less straightforward. They didn't need or want anything from the Expedition, but they did have a taste for suida berries. Except the Pellenese refused to trade directly with the Khagari, because of some past slight that had at some point become cultural. The two planets didn't actually have an issue with each any more, and were as close to a Pegasus EuroZone as had been witnessed, but there was still those traditions, and the Expedition was their way around it. The Pellenese, on their part, were happy to trade extra suida berries to in turn be traded with Kahgari, so long as the Expedition continued sending people familiar with even the basics of dentistry to their planet to run clinics. Suida berries were particularly sweet and literally tooth-rotting in large enough quantities, and when the majority of your diet was various ways in which the berries were prepared, it made for a booming dentistry—and dentures—economy. Except the Pellenese only had the most basic understanding of oral healthcare. Enter Expedition, stage right.

John tried to sort this out in his mind. They could introduce Pegasus Switzerland to Pellen and Kahgari directly, though trade with the Clkshiki would probably have to be done through Atlantis. At the same time, the clan didn't have much to trade in the first place, either to the Expedition or the other three planets, except for information about the Genii. John was happy to make that particular trade, but Teyla insisted that it would do the clan (and other potential allies) a disservice. Making them effective spies for Atlantis and therefore potential targets if—when—this supposed Atlantis-Genii alliance went south wasn't something John had a problem with, though he was coming to realize that, when it came to the safety of the City and the people that made up Atlantis' citizens, there wasn't much he wouldn't do.

Teyla was his (and Ronon's, and McKay's) voice of logic and sanity for a reason. Which was slightly disturbing, when you considered that Pegasus morality basically amounted to 'Whatever saves the lives of your people' or 'Whatever kills the most Wraith'.

"Is there… any chance you could plant more? Perhaps something small, like an extra row of hochan?" Teyla asked, trading a quick look with John and Ronon. "It would not be much to trade, but in the right places it could get you something… sufficient to supplement your diet?"

Headman Jumin shook his head slowly. "Our fields are running fallow. We need to switch them every cycle, but that means we often have only just enough to feed our people and no more."

John abruptly became aware of the bowl of stew that was rapidly cooling in his hands, and made a point of finishing it, of complimenting the cooks. Jumin looked pleased. John tried not to look sheepish.

"What if we did a walk around?" John asked. Before today he wouldn't have suggested it—Jumin would never have been comfortable enough around them to let them further into the village—but the man seemed open enough now. "We won't touch anything, just… see if there's anything we could help with."

Jumin still looked dubious, but agreed to spend some time on a tour of the fields around the village.

Some were fallow, most were planted and well-tended, and some—

"They were good fields until three cycles ago," Jumin mused at the completely dry and parched earth, not even a weed to be seen. "We do not know why they are this way. Perhaps they were overplanted too many times."

"I can't believe I'm saying this," John groused to Teyla and Ronon, missing McKay fiercely, "But I wish we had brought Parrish."

Jumin looked up, suspicious. "What is this Parrish?"

"Er, Doctor Parrish," John began, and paused as Jumin's eyes shuttered closed. "Wait, I mean—Doctor is a title where we're from."

"It means they are the most learned and educated people in their particular field of study," Teyla explained.

John nodded quickly. "Right! Right, so, McKay is an expert at, uh, building things, and space—and never lets anyone forget that—and Doctor Parrish is a friendly, excitable man who is an expert on plants."

"Friendly, is he?" Jumin grumbled, still suspicious.

John sighed. They had been doing so well. Baby steps, baby steps. "Headman Jumin… with your permission, can we bring back a small sample of this soil to our botanists to study? They might be able to figure out what happened to these fields, and maybe how you can plant crops here again."

"Your… botanists can do that?"

"They can try," Teyla reassured, "And from what I have seen on other planets where they have helped, Lantea's botanists are very well versed in their craft."

It was sometimes frustrating, keeping the whole 'there is another galaxy of humans out there, one can you get to directly through Atlantis!' secret. Being able to say that the Lanteans were comprised of only the best and brightest in their respective fields, that there was a planet of over six billion people out there that Atlantis' contingent was drawn from would solve so many problems. At the same time, it would mean an open invitation for people and Wraith to try and find a way to the Milky Way, and that was one thing they were trying to minimize, here.

So the continued suspicion was understood, given that Atlantis's trading patterns indicated a fairly small population, which meant a small number of people to draw from for specialties. Being the best in a small community didn't necessarily mean you were good.

Still, Jumin let them scoop a pile of what looked like dirt but felt like sand into a plastic baggy, and sat with the Headman and his family for a small cup of Athosian tea (care of Teyla) before being escorted back through the 'Gate.

"They might make excellent trade partners with Pellen and Kahgari, if they can solve their crop issues," Teyla offered as the trio of AR-1 made their way to drop off their arms and TAC vests in the Ready Room.

Ronon snorted, leaning against the wall as John and Teyla disarmed. "If they're Pellen and Khagari's in between, where does that leave us?"

"Treaty brokers," John quipped. At Teyla and Ronon's unimpressed stares, he shrugged awkwardly. "Or… something."

"Colonel Sheppard to Medical, Colonel Sheppard to Medical."

"We just got back," John called up to the ceiling. "We were heading there anyway!"

Zelenka waited for their post-op physical to finish before pouncing. "So, Colonel? How did it feel?"

"Good," John replied. "Itchy."

He seemed to have a knack for annoying people today, John noticed, or maybe just people he spoke to. Zelenka was tapping his fingers rhythmically on the edge of his datapad, a thoroughly unimpressed look being aimed at John over the top of his glasses.

"Okay, okay! Fine, it was fine."

"John was much less distracted today," Teyla offered. "Unlike Ronon, he actually managed to stay awake during our discussions."

Ronon didn't bother replying to that, staring at John instead. At John's uncovered, completely hairless chest.

John grabbed his shirt to throw it on, glaring at his teammate. "What?"

"'s weird."

"Tell me about it."

"Colonel," Zelenka interrupted.

Once an ATA lightswitch guinea pig, John privately mourned. "Right, well. Teyla's right? Every time I started to get distracted I, uh, focused instead on what I could hear from the crystal. Just a few seconds, but then I could concentrate on the extremely riveting debate about the best colours to wear at the Umyanan festival."

"You should have, we are attending it this year."

"Since when?"

"Since Colonel Carter heard of it and wished to attend," Teyla replied. "We have been asked to be her security detail."

"…and who okayed this?"

Teyla cocked her head, genuinely confused. "Is it not your name on the document on the intranet, John?"

"So Lorne," John answered his own question. He really would have to start reading more of the requests, wouldn't he?

"Colonel, you said you could focus on the crystal to restore your concentration," Zelenka interjected, tapping away at his datapad, actually taking notes this time. "Did you have trouble concentrating before new subcutaneous transmitter? Or before Atlantis?"

Concentration? "I've never had trouble concentrating," John corrected. "There were just some times where I felt… itchy."

"Itchy?"

"Like a rash?"

Keller had the best timing. "Noooo," he drew out. "Like pins and needles. When your leg falls asleep because you've been sitting on it too long, and then you go to stand up and it's tingly in a painful way."

Ronon and Teyla nodded their understanding of their explanation as Keller started making her own notes on the topic. Rodney was going to murder someone when he came back and found out that he'd missed a sort-of ATA experiment. "So do you think that Atlantis is supressing something, and the pressure is only released when you're away from Ancient tech?"

It was close to what John thought it was, but not quite. "More like… pouring molasses into a tub of oil and then straining it out."

Keller was understandably confused, but Zelenka was nodding. "I think I see. Atlantis fills space, but when is removed—or you are removed from Atlantis—there is empty space again and rest of you needs to shift to fill space."

Keller was making a note of it—and probably to ask other gene carriers their perspective on it—but was nodding nonetheless. "Okay, so, the crystal in the transmitter makes you feel… full? Complete?"

"…sure, let's go with that."

Kusanagi skipped into the infirmary then, stripped down to a sports bra and BDU trousers, and hopped up on the bed beside John. "Doctors Keller, Zelenka, I am ready."

"Alright, Miko, let me just double check the Colonel's stitches and we'll get you rechipped," Keller greeted with a smile.

John did his best to ignore Keller stripping off his shirt again—he was cold, seriously, that was it—and focused instead on the tiny programming engineer. "So, you're the next guinea pig?"

Kusanagi nodded, tying her hair up into a bun. "Yes, sir, Colonel. Until we have a greater sample population, we decided it would be better to skip the Major for now."

"Because we're the Military leaders, and we can't both be down and out," John agreed. It was logical.

Teyla sat down beside Kusanagi, resting her hand on the other woman's slightly trembling shoulder. "Doctor Keller can provide you with anaesthetic enough you do not feel the pain."

"I know," Kusanagi agreed, "But I still do not like being cut open."

Ronon nodded. "No one does," and collected his own shirt before walking out of the infirmary.

Teyla squeezed Kusanagi's shoulder again, turning to Keller as she finished with John and then approached the other women with a fresh needle and scalpel. "Doctor Keller, once you are finished with Doctor Kusanagi, perhaps you might try inserting a… subque into me? With both the Colonel and Doctor McKay on my team, would it not be better to have another person nearby with this new transmitter, in case something happens to their own?"

"Well, we were supposed to chip both you and Ronon years ago," Keller admitted with a wry smile. "I think we have yours still lying around somewhere that can be modified."

Zelenka was nodding in the background, gesturing for one of the other science team members to scurry off and, probably, find it.

Teyla smiled at her gratefully, at Kusanagi, and then at John. "I would be very happy if you could."

Kusanagi, for all her apparent fear, only hissed at the needle and made no reaction whatsoever as the scalpel sliced open just enough skin to remove the old subque. Keller was quick to stitch her up as well, handing the transmitter to Zelenka to work his magic on, and then left to help find Teyla's designated subque.

"You don't have to do this," John offered, Kusanagi wandering to a corner of the infirmary to grab a spare datapad and, to no one's surprise, start working on a project while she waited.

Teyla smiled at him, reaching across the distance to pat John's hand. "I do not, but I wish to. It is an easy thing, and will help us if Ronon and I am ever separated from you and Rodney again while awaiting rescue."

Ah yes, the super volcano incident. Daedalus had still managed to grab Teyla and Ronon, but only by their radio signals. Knowing there'd be another way to track at least Teyla was a reassuring thought.

"…think we'll be able to talk Ronon into it?"

Teyla's raised eyebrows were answer enough.

Another two days passed, things going surprisingly smoothly. No cullings, no emergencies, no trick hallway that lead to a lab with superweapons inside, and no trick hallway that lead to a lab with super viruses inside. Rodney was scheduled to return in three days, Carter probably returning with him (or not so probably; she'd likely stay an extra day to avoid being stuck in quarantine with him for twenty four hours).

And still, no blow up from Landry about Wallace.

John stared unseeing at his laptop, musing on that. Did something happen and Landry was too busy to read Expedition AARs, even when they occurred on his own soil? Did Landry just not ever bother to read Expedition reports? Had he read it and somehow agreed with John's decision? Or had he read it, blown up, and was waiting for John's guilty conscience to make him come clean in person? Or worse—waiting to use it in the future, to block potential promotions or John returning to Pegasus the next time he was called back to stand before the IOA? Landry wasn't exactly his biggest fan, but they weren't any sort of enemies, either.

Lorne wandered into their joint office—technically the Major had his own, but John's was more central and hardly ever used, anyway—to throw a pile of file folders on his desk. John wasn't sure where those had come from, since the Expedition was paperless, but they did exist, at least in Lorne's hands.

Lots of things actually existed in Lorne's hands that didn't before or otherwise. The man was an artist, but to John's knowledge there was a difference between creating paintings and creating objects out of thin air. Or maybe it was just Lorne.

"Sir?"

Lorne, who was looking at him with worry.

John tried a smile, pushing his laptop away. "Hey. Anything going on in the Watchtower?"

"AR-12 all got the new subques," Lorne offered, slumping into the seat across from John. "They said that Doctor Bambus was particularly less scatterbrained on their last mission."

To Pellen, to open tentative negotiations on behalf of Pegasus Switzerland, if John remembered right. And he was pretty sure he did—Parrish woke up him (and most of Atlantis) just that morning by screaming in excitement at the results from the soil sample. At least John could reassure himself that everyone in Atlantis was ready to defend the City at a moment's notice.

"Well, that's good. No more broken ankles," which was almost as much of a running joke as the lieutenants.

Lorne smiled in returned, but let his grin drop away as he studied his CO further. "Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"How many times do I have to say you can always speak freely?"

Lorne quirked a grin at him. "Sir… you've been acting out of sorts since returning to the City. Did something happen back on Earth?"

John considered it a moment—the AAR had been filed at SGC, which meant Atlantis' servers probably didn't have the updated report and wouldn't be getting it until the next databurst. At the same time, mission AARs were open reading for everyone on offworld teams (and in the City, even those not on 'Gate teams), in case they should run across a similar situation. Very little was classified in those mission reports, save for particular personal information, and Lorne was the leader of AR-2. He'd read it sooner rather than later, and at least this way John could give him a heads-up.

"Well, you know we had to bring Todd in to help…."

Lorne stiffened. "Did he kill someone?"

John grimaced. "Something like that. I… here," and spun around his laptop so that Lorne could see the screen, read the damning report presented there. "I don't regret what I did, but… I feel like I should."

Lorne took his time, clicking back and forth a couple times to check facts or simply to give himself more time to absorb what it said, but eventually he finished and looked up at John.

"Sir… maybe it says something about me, too, but I don't see you did anything wrong. You said you gave Wallace the option, and he took it of his own free will. That's not ordering a man to be murdered; that's offering a prisoner the choice of their own type of incarceration."

"You mean execution."

"There'd be many a man who would take the chance to choose a medicated execution over the electric chair, sir."

"But what kind of man chooses death at all?"

"The one who can't see a reason for living."

A reason for living. Henry Wallace's daughter—if she had survived…. But no, and Wallace had chosen it. John had offered, had made it look tempting, but most people would balk at such a thought, of offering yourself to be eaten alive.

Would he have been able to make the same choice, in Wallace's situation? Probably—he'd been willing to fly a nuke into a Hive, to steal a jumper to take back the City, to take on any number of suicide missions since coming to Atlantis. What kind of man chose death over life?

The kind that had nothing else to give.

"We're getting kind of philosophical here, Major."

"Doc Heightmeyer would have been proud."

John managed a smile at that. He had generally avoided Kate Heightmeyer like the plague, hating the idea of someone coming in and picking apart his mind, studying his thoughts and making judgements about them. Some people found relief in seeing a psychologist, but he'd once spent hours every day for nearly a year with various psychologists and psychiatrists and other specialists and so-called 'mind doctors', and couldn't associate it with anything other than uncomfortable conversations and unrealistic expectations.

His father could be very determined.

Aside from the simple fact she was a psychologist (and the occasional breach of doctor-patient confidentiality—the Expedition had very few boundaries people were uncomfortable with crossing, but even John had made a note of that), John hadn't minded Kate. He'd do his level best to not stay within her reach for any length of time, but she hadn't been a bad person. Teyla and Elizabeth had liked her, so that had to count for something.

"So, Lorne," John dragged himself out of his thoughts, "When you get the new subque, think that will help with our lieutenant problem?"

Even with Midway there to run relay, the weekly databurst was still a direct dial-in from the City to the Mountain. Less chance of interception, McKay and Carter had decided, and could be done with sufficient naquadah generators instead of draining the ZPM. Still, it meant the wormhole was only open for two seconds at the most, not nearly enough time to greet someone or have a conversation.

Or get chewed out by Landry, John praised silently, standing at attention as the 'Gate finished dialling, connected, then sputtered out of existence less than two seconds later.

"We have received databurst," Chuck reported, already entering the code to send the extremely compressed file over to CompEng for extraction. "Ah, sir, a file was sent separately, addressed to you directly."

"Could be a virus," John joked, worry creeping up on him again.

Chuck smiled at that—not the only one to do so—and obligingly said, "I'll send it on to CompEng to run a scan."

"Hey, I have Norton."

John was promptly booed out of the control room, one of the other techs yelling, "Death to Norton!" as he scarpered off.

CompEng—or Kusanagi, Simpson, and occasionally some of the Ops/Tech people and/or McKay, when he could be bothered—gave priority to the file sent directly to him, and had it ready for him by the time John got to his desk. Not from Landry, John noted with relief, and then felt his stomach drop. Not Landry, but McKay.

Since he'd stepped through the 'Gate, John hadn't really considered what Rodney thought about the Wallace situation, apart from the obvious relief that Jeannie was alive and would be well with some rest and physio. Hadn't wanted to, really. McKay was a pain and obtuse and arrogant and a bit cowardly and sometimes even a bit of a pervert, but he was also a genius and reliable even through his screaming, and always, always John's friend. John trusted the Canadian with his life, with the lives of his Team and even the entire Expedition, and Rodney had never betrayed that, not even with Doranda. He liked to think that Rodney trusted John with all the important things, too, with people's lives and secrets, with his life and secrets, and John had worked to never betray Rodney in turn.

So his reaction to this—to John's decision, Wallace's decision—could either make or break their friendship, their entire team.

It took nearly half an hour—and CompEng sending over files from the actual databurst marked for his immediate perusal (though when, exactly, a review on a supply report submitted six months ago counted as high priority, John didn't know)—before he was ready to read the email.

And then was blindsided, because it wasn't from Rodney.

John,

It's Jean. My brother doesn't know I've grabbed his laptop so I need to type this quickly, because he'll probably only be distracted by the new coffee maker for a couple minutes.

I wanted to say thank you in person, but you left so quickly I didn't get the chance. So: thank you. Not for myself, though I'm grateful for that. Thank you for my brother.

Colonel Carter explained what happened, and I don't blame you or Meredith or anyone for the decisions you made. Mer's still beating himself up for getting me kidnapped—Kaleb is, of course, helping with the guilt trip, no matter what I say—so I guess you're probably feeling out of sorts about things, too. I truly don't think you should take on responsibility for Wallace. You don't have the right to. Wallace had his options, and he chose to offer his life to save mine. As I've been telling my brother, I'm the one who should, and does, feel guilty. If Mer and I hadn't pushed him while we were trapped, or if we had been faster, had better coding for the nanites, then maybe things could have ended differently. I wish we could have saved Sharon, I wish no one had to die, I wish this had never happened. But it did, and I get to live with it.

Mer is actually helping, in as much as he knows how to help with something so illogical as emotions—Madison has started calling him Uncle Spock, would you believe it—and Kaleb is always ready to help.

Madison, though. She's been my rock the last few days. I can get up, I can get through the day, I can even suffer through my physio, because of her.

John, I know you don't have the same kind of rock, but I think maybe your team can come close. And maybe you don't need it. You are career military, right? But just in case you do: I forgive you. And your team, Mer included, they forgive you. And on behalf of Henry and Sharon: I forgive you.

I hope you're doing okay out there, and I'll send Mer back to you as soon as I can convince him that the coffee there is just as good as it is here.

Stay well,

Jean Miller

John reread the letter a few more times, each time focusing on another part of it. He hadn't thought that Jeannie would feel guilty about Wallace's death, but he had given up his life to save hers. That would definitely have left an impact.

She really was a strong woman, and not just because she'd somehow survived being raised in the same household as Rodney. John grinned, feeling minutely lighter. He hadn't needed the forgiveness, hadn't felt guilt about Wallace himself… but he had, about Jeannie. About her getting caught up in this mess, in Expedition problems when she wasn't technically part of them, didn't have the opportunity to be properly protected by them.

I forgive you.

Whenever Landry came down on him, John was going to be able to remember those words. They will be his sword and shield.

John was leaning on one of the decorative desalinization pillars outside the infirmary, chatting to the lineup of people who were there to get their subques switched out. Zelenka and his minions had managed to get the modification and customization of the transmitters down to ten minutes a piece, and that had seemed to be the cue needed for the rest of the Expedition to join in on the switch.

Most had, by now, read the AAR for why two of their division leaders and their Wraith prisoner had been called back to Earth, and had managed to largely get passed the horror at the situation and to righteous indignation on behalf of McKay and Mrs. Miller. Somehow that had translated to joining in on removing the DMT subcutaneous transmitters and replacing them Atlantis-made ones, and John wasn't going to question the decision making process behind it. He would have encouraged people to volunteer to change theirs anyway.

If he was being perfectly honest, he was relieved enough at not needing to press for people to make the switch that he hadn't bothered trying to schedule times. With both Carter and McKay dirtside there were very few offworld missions being run, which meant fewer new things brought back for study and therefore more time to work on projects that had been piling up. Some of those projects were less than thrilling, especially in comparison to the novelty of Expedition-made subques, and so the lineup outside Medical was quite a bit longer than it otherwise would be during lunch. The Marines weren't particularly thrilled at the lack of work, but the suida berry crop would need harvesting within the month and the Clkshiki wheat harvest would likely be even sooner. Both were labour missions that involved large festivals and copious amounts of food and drink, so in a bid to be selected for either mission the Marines were on their best behavior, including standing peaceably in line with the Scientists.

Mostly—AR-8 didn't seem capable of not pranking each other, but at least they were small, friendly pranks that helped to ease the City-wide tensions brought about by the latest slew of reports.

No one was acknowledging what happened with Wallace and Todd, but they weren't looking at John like he was some kind of monster or resisting orders, so as far as he was concerned it was a win.

"When is your next leave, sir?"

John rocked back on his heels, considering. "Hm, not for another year. I'll probably take it here, on the planet with the amazing beaches and swells."

"You surf sir?"

"Went to Stanford," John dismissed with a shrug. "I don't know anyone who's lived in Cali that hasn't surfed."

The line was fairly slow moving—Zelenka and Keller could only move so quickly—and more people had joined the line as time passed, bringing datapads and books and one a portable stereo system. Someone had even brought a game of Twister along to kill time.

"Enjoy a free range of movement while you can," John ended up cautioning them, still feeling twinges in his shoulder and upper abdomen as he sank to sit cross legged, before calling out, "Left foot, blue!"

With a third of the Expedition crammed into the hallways around Medical, and Pluto and other Sci-Fi soundtracks playing in the background from the speakers, it wasn't any surprise that no one outside 'Gate Ops realized that the 'Gate had connected and returned their missing leader to them. Frankly, John was debating declaring this a Sunday, for all the work that was getting done and attention being paid to the outside world.

John had just finished calling, "Right hand, red!" when he noticed her presence at his shoulder. "Colonel Carter, wonderful to have you back, ma'am."

Unlike every other CO he'd ever had, Carter didn't look about ready to drop kick him out of the Air Force post haste. She was actually smiling, staring at the jumble of a line and various time killing methods. "Decided to have your own party, since you missed Daniel's?" She asked, pointing further down the hall where it opened up enough for an impromptu swing dance competition.

John shrugged, getting to his feet and handing the spinner off to Kusanagi, camped out beside him. "Well, we figure it's a time honoured tradition of the Stargate Program."

Carter shook her head at him, but didn't move to walk away. John didn't bother to move, either, watching the Twister game come to a Rube-Goldberg sort of end. "Good trip back? Todd behave himself? Midway treat you well?"

"It was really quiet with my travelling companion, who, incidentally, is safe and sound in the brig," she replied. "Got a lot of work done, and a lot of reports read. Something happened with New Switzerland?"

"I thought we were calling it Pegasus Switzerland," John mock-pouted. "And yeah, the other two clans aren't up for interplanetary trading now, so they need to find a new source of fruits and grains for their people. We suggested Pellen and Kahgari, but there's issues with their crops."

"On Pellen or Kahgari?"

"Pegasus Switzerland, actually. Barely enough to feed their own people, let alone trade. Parrish and Botany are looking into soil samples, trying to see why some fields are practically salted."

"We'll need to keep an eye on them, then," Carter mused. Whether she meant Pegasus Switzerland or Botany, John wasn't sure. The Botanists, when they wanted to be, were terrifyingly creative.

From Medical, Doctor Biro—having no dead bodies to autopsy for the first time in months and so playing triage nurse—stuck her head out the door. "Next! …Sergeant, if that tattoo extends as far down as I think it does, you better have a second favourite place for the incision!"

"Ma'am," Sergeant Kippling nodded, stepping through the door as he pulled off his t-shirt.

Carter raised an eyebrow at John. "And the incision in question…?"

"Well, that report about Pegasus Switzerland… there should have been a note at the bottom?"

"Yes, to another report that wasn't forwarded to SGC," Carter agreed, rebuke in her voice.

"It wasn't ready yet," John answered. "Miko, you mind if I…?"

She looked up from the Twister game, spinner ready to go and giggle already on her lips at the knot of bodies trying to fit on the mat. "Oh, yes, feel free. Welcome home, Colonel."

"Thank you, Doctor Kusanagi," Carter replied, looking over John's shoulder as he grabbed Kusanagi's datapad and quickly brought up the report in question. Technically it was a complete file of multiple reports from both Keller and Zelenka's teams, as well as addenda from John, Kusanagi, Lorne and transcripts of the relevant Command Staff briefings. "And this is… what, exactly?"

"It would be easiest to understand if you read the transcripts first, then the Medical and Science teams reports, and then the addenda from myself, the Colonel, and the Major," Kusanagi offered, still from her spot on the floor. "It did start as Colonel Sheppard's idea, but Doctors Keller and Zelenka were intrigued by the idea and expanded it further."

"So I guess I'll just… read this, then," Carter said, and took a seat on the other side of John from Kusanagi to do just that.

John shrugged, sitting down against the wall as well, and spent the next twenty minutes helping Kusanagi call out positions and refereeing the game. "Crabtree, you can't lean on Higgins if Higgins isn't playing!"

When she was finished, there was an unreadable expression on Carter's face. John figured now might be the time he'd get kicked to the curb, but again she surprised him by looking at the line, looking at John, and then back at the reports. "I guess it's a bit too late to try and put a kibosh on this, isn't it?"

"Would you want to?" John asked.

Carter shook her head, not quite saying no but not disbelieving, either. "Honestly? I don't know what to make of this. I'll need to think about it for a while, but I'm sure I'll have some opinions soon. John… it really bothered you, didn't it? DMT?"

He felt his jaw working, forcefully biting down on what he wanted to say immediately and instead carefully measuring his words. "I know we can't expect the Program to be able to make everything ourselves. I know contracts like the one with DMT are needed. But when it's for something as personal as an interplanetary tracker, when not just us but our families get targeted because of it…. We exposed a weakness, and eventually someone else is going to find out about that weakness, try to exploit it again." He had too much energy, angry or otherwise, and jumped to his feet. There wasn't enough room to pace, but he could swing his arms or twist around, get a better view of everyone in line. The Expedition members, his responsibility, his people, his family. "I'm not saying I doubt that SGC could handle stopping the leak and securing our information; I wanted to ensure that there was no more information or weakness for people to find and take advantage of."

Because some people would take any opportunity they saw to get ahead. Some would even take those opportunities, not to advance themselves but just for the sake of ruining someone else.

…and he really was thinking a lot about his father, recently.

Carter watched him silently, then looked back to the datapad when it was obvious he wasn't going to say anything more. "Well, I can see your point. And with Keller and Zelenka having come up with a way to turn it into a continuation of Doctor Beckett's research, neither I nor SGC could argue against it. But, if it turns out there is any sort of backlash from these homemade transmitters, I will be ordering a new shipment of DMT's to be inserted immediately. Understood, Colonel?"

"Understood," John agreed. Now to hope that Zelenka's team hadn't screwed up somewhere along the lines.

Carter continued to monopolize Kusanagi's datapad, having gotten comfortable on the floor and not looking ready to move any time soon. John wandered off to get some snacks from the galley and brought them back to share between he, Kusanagi and Carter. The line continued to snake along, the Twister game eventually getting competitive enough that it had to be put away and two people sent in to the infirmary ahead of everyone else for treatment of bruising and lacerations.

Captain Alves was near the end of the line, looking slightly ill but nonetheless keeping a stiff back and proud posture before his Marines. "Ma'am," he greeted when he saw Carter, "We've missed you here."

"Didn't Colonel Sheppard and Major Lorne do a good job running the place while I was gone?"

"They did, ma'am," Alves agreed, "But they both went on some offworld missions, and I had to keep my company on standby for a rescue the whole time."

"We're not that bad," John muttered.

Carter smiled. "Thank you for your hard work and conscientious planning, Captain Alves."

"Thank you, ma'am. And, if it's not inappropriate to ask, ma'am, will you be getting a new subque as well?"

Carter, to her credit, didn't immediately dismiss the idea. "I'll need to think about it, first. Just got back, after all."

"Of course, ma'am."

Rodney had chosen to stay back for another week with his sister, ostensibly taking the leave he'd been putting off for the last few years. John didn't fault him—he technically also had some weeks built up, but he was never sure what he wanted to do with that time and so kept putting it off. Rodney simply refused to leave his work without a good reason, and Jeannie was apparently that good reason.

Also, Uncle Spock. John was not going to let that go.

With Carter back, it meant John didn't have to keep up on what was happening in Science, but between Zelenka's subque team and Parrish's Pegasus Switzerland team, he still found himself in the labs more than he'd prefer for the following week. He ended up in the ATA labs with Zelenka for testing to see if the new subque interfered with other ATA tech—it didn't—and avoiding Botany until an hour after Parrish screamed.

Lorne swore the man was worse in the field, but John just couldn't see how.

"The soil! It's amazing, Colonel, really, the—"

"Okay, stop, before you go further," John interrupted, because at this point he was well-versed in scientist wrangling, "I want you to explain whatever you're about to say as if you're talking to a three year old. Okay, go."

Parrish blinked at him, wide doe eyes that should not be legal, before beginning again, slightly less excited. "Well, I'm not an edaphologist, or even a pedologist, but I had to study some before coming here, and—this is really quite remarkable! There's evidence of some type of… mutation in the soil samples you brought back. It's not even what we'd normally see in farm soils, the complete depletion of some types of nutrients and unhealthy buildup of others, but soil type is shifting completely from the sand-silt-clay structural type to… well, I'm not sure what to call it. Pre-crystallization? Colonel," Parrish finally addressed John directly, "To make a long story short, it is beginning to turn into a crystalline structure, based around an atomic structure that we've only seen in one other place."

John absently rubbed at his sternum. "Let me guess."

Parrish nodded at him. "I've taken the liberty of sending samples to Geology and the ATA labs—" John tried to hide his wince, Rodney was going to kill him for missing something else, "—but I'd like to keep researching this. I might not be able to help these fields, but if I can find a way to prevent the other fields from crystallizing, or adapt their crops to the new type of soil, I'd like to try."

Whatever else could be said about Parrish, he was dedicated to helping people. A regular humanitarian. "Like you did adapting the potatoes to soil from the Mainland?"

Parrish's grin was wide. "Who doesn't love a good French fry?"

"Alright, well, keep working at it," John ordered. "And, uh, maybe you could move to a more… insulated lab?"

The botanist was clearly bemused at the suggestion, but nodded anyway and returned to his trays and samples.

John shook his head and left, aiming for the ATA labs. The subque switchover was completely finished (save for Carter, who still hadn't decided one way or another, and Rodney, who was still Earthside with a couple Expedition Marines on rotation at the Mountain for the next month). Zelenka and his team should be in the monitoring stages now, and probably looking for a new project. The crystal mutation probably wouldn't interest them all that much, which meant they'd be chomping at the bit to exploring more parts of the City, few as were left.

Well, supposedly few. In area covered, Atlantis was slightly bigger than Manhattan with 24.6 square miles to Manhattan's 22.8, not including the many floors of the city towers or the various levels within her floating base. There was no way the scientists had managed to actually map out every inch of her in the four years they'd been out here, not when most of that time was filled with medical emergencies and human-killing nanoviruses and Wraith attacks.

Zelenka wasn't in the lab, but Kusanagi and Simpson were. And, based on their hissing whispers over a couple datapads, plotting.

"Doctors, should I be worried about you scheming?"

Both whipped around to face him, Simpson managing a straight face and Kusanagi somehow managing to look guilty by not looking guilty at all. "Colonel! Did you hear what Botany found?"

"The sand is crystals," John repeated what he had managed to understand from Parrish's diatribe.

Simpson valiantly fought not to roll her eyes. John appreciated the attempt.