~ The Power Of One ~

Author's Note: This story takes place in early 'Season 7', when Atlantis is newly returned to the Pegasus Galaxy and all the familiar faces are back in the city.

Another Author's Note follows this chapter.

Word Count, Chapter 1: 8100

Characters: Sheppard, Rodney, Teyla, Ronon. Brief appearance by Keller, Zelenka. Sort of Beckett and Lorne.

Warning: Vague references to multiple incidents and characters in the series.

Disclaimer: 'Stargate Atlantis' and its characters are not mine. I would not have left them under the aegis of those whose interest lay elsewhere.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

John Sheppard looked up from his paperwork as Rodney McKay halted in front of the desk. The abrupt entrance and the determined set of the jaw made it clear McKay had come to John's office prepared to make a stand. John set down his stylus and gave polite attention to his visitor.

"I have need of your oh-so-glorious gene," Rodney began.

John pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. "Okay."

That took the wind out of any argument. "You're not going to give me one of your looks or tell me whatever I need you to do won't work because Atlantis doesn't really talk to you?"

"Nope."

"Oh..." McKay sounded deflated, then he frowned suspiciously. "I can still hear a 'but'."

"Just don't expect me to understand any 'feeling' I may happen to have," John warned. He checked his watch as he came around the desk. After two hours of reports ~ and hours more to go ~ he needed a break. "How long d'you figure this'll take?"

The two men left the office and headed down a corridor. Rodney huffed, "No time at all, if your 'feeling' isn't any more definitive than anyone else's."

"No progress?"

Rodney huffed again. "Progress? Hah. Technical teams can't find anything technical to study. Wilson on the initial survey team said she 'felt something'. Packer said the room felt 'strong', and hours of examination haven't added a thing. So far no one who volunteered has detected anything noteworthy and Carson says he's too busy to check it out, but I think he's afraid to go near the place. He's flown the city, for heaven's sake," McKay ended with a grumble.

John didn't say anything. When he sat in the Chair he could 'feel' every component of Atlantis. Having the city respond at every level in order to realize a focused thought ~ including the intricacies inherent in the simple concept 'fly' ~ actually took less control than trying to determine the purpose of a room by finessing a vague feeling into an unknown action. Beckett was right to be afraid of power that could be unintentionally released.

"Everyone else has given up on the room's having any significance, so I decided to jump to the top of the list rather than hit-and-miss with any more volunteers," Rodney continued. "It really would be helpful if we could find a way to refine our list to identify specific affinities, not just strengths of gene carriers."

McKay had been trying to do just that for several years. Rodney looked sidewise at John with an expression John interpreted as 'frustration looking for blame'. They stepped into a transporter and McKay tapped the screen. A moment later they exited and began walking in the direction away from the city center.

Rodney huffed yet again. "You could've paid more attention during those six months instead of making Kirk-eyes at your meditation tutor." McKay's frustration had assigned John the blame. "Information about how and why individuals acquired certain powers as they neared Ascension would be very useful."

John kept walking, saying nothing, while Rodney vented.

"It stands to reason that not all Ancients could command the Chair; people with certain abilities would've been used in specific capacities. So, if we know someone's genetic affinity places that person on track eventually to be a Healer ~ if we were naturally on track to ascend and weren't ten-thousand years removed from being an Ancient ~ we could assign that person to medical duty. Or, an affinity for telekinesis would be helpful in battle."

"Even if that person has no training in military strategy?" John asked blandly. "And what if your medical person were squeamish and couldn't stand the sight of blood?"

Rodney looked flummoxed, as if choosing not to take advantage of one's affinity were beyond his comprehension. He was still frowning when they arrived at their destination.

The room looked like dozens of similar rooms in the city. It was an average space, not very large, with common Lantean features. There was nothing to draw the attention of a visitor ~ nothing in the paneling nor coloring nor dimensions. And there was nothing to give any clue to what had been housed there.

"So?" McKay prompted as he strode to the room's center and stood on the large, triangular tile in the flooring. He moved his open hands in a sweeping arc to indicate the vacant space. "What does your Super Gene tell you about an empty room?"

John stood just inside the doorway. "That it's not empty."

Rodney dropped his arms and made a face of 'looking hard' as he peered at the open area. He snarked, "Could you be just a teensy bit more specific?" He walked over to a corner to pick up his tablet and handscanner from the floor. He studied the equipment. "There's no energy reading, not even second-order."

John took a single step into the room. "There's power. And purpose." He took another step. "And something is here." He looked around, his gaze sliding over paneled walls, up to the decorative ceiling, down to the geometrically patterned floor. He stared at the motif under his feet and walked closer to the room's center. As he approached he raised an outstretched hand.

Rodney squeaked when three consoles rose suddenly from the floor, backs aligned with a band of tiles that outlined the center triangle. "How did you know to do that?" McKay breathed in awe. He hunched over his tablet and began tapping the screen, not waiting for an answer.

John didn't have an answer. A strong hum pulsed at the back of his mind. He felt a rush pulling him in while a sharp note tendered a warning. He lowered his hand but stayed where he was.

"We certainly can have teams working on this now," Rodney exclaimed, oblivious to John's stillness. He glanced around at the typical, average Lantean space. "Three consoles. It's not a lab. And each console is not quite like the others. We're out in the middle of nowhere, so what are they meant to interface with?" His gaze settled on John, who hadn't moved. "What's wrong?" McKay's eagerness was slipping into panic.

John spoke in a calm but cautious voice. "Just be careful," he warned. "There's power here, even if you can't detect a signal."

Rodney's features relaxed slightly. "You don't have any 'feel' for what the consoles do? Try to activate something," he urged.

John didn't move. "No. And use only non-gene personnel."

Rodney looked as if he might argue, but there was just enough panic left in him to rein in his recklessness. "I'll have Radek bring back his team."

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

"If you didn't want to do this you shouldn't have volunteered," Rodney groused, looking at the tablet in his hand.

"I didn't say I didn't want to do it." John's answer was curt. He leveled a stare. "And I didn't volunteer." Which wasn't exactly true ~ anything to keep Rodney's mind off a room he wasn't allowed to enter and reports that were, in his opinion, never frequent nor complete enough to be really useful. John had been 'requested' by Richard Woolsey to assist in diverting McKay's attention from sending a daily diatribe detailing the inadequacies of the ongoing investigation in the room of consoles. Since they were all currently prohibited from exploring the galaxy, the best use of time was to concentrate on exploring the city.

"Anything?" Rodney all but tapped his toe. He studied his tablet screen and waited for John to respond.

The 'anything' was a small device, one of many Ancient objects that had been found in the city and that had purposes as yet undetermined. All such items were documented, photographed and stored. Over the years a number of them had been studied and catalogued, but Rodney was of the belief that some pieces could be identified simply by the touch of Colonel Super Gene.

"Nothing," John admitted.

"Are you trying?"

John responded with a glare. He understood why, but even so, McKay was getting on his nerves. Everyone in Atlantis was unsettled and uncertain. The fate of the city lay in the hands of people who didn't necessarily have the same goal for the Expedition as the personnel who had lived in Pegasus for years.

John grimaced silently in derision at their situation: Gate travel limited; activity on the base hampered. Thirty-one days waiting on the IOA. It was all too similar to the months on Earth spent presenting arguments to return Atlantis to the Pegasus Galaxy. And after relocation was approved, two more months waiting while Expedition personnel were reassigned to the city. At least with a complete staff familiar with Atlantis, the current 'downtime' was being used advantageously ~ exploring the city had never received top priority in the past. John shook his head at the illogic of burying the city in red tape and maintaining a skeletal staff. Nearly a year wasted on Earth because the IOA had wanted the city for Earth's defense even while fearing its power, and had therefore disallowed study of the resident Ancient tech.

So, here they were. The IOA negotiating with the Coalition. The Bad and The Worse. John had warned Woolsey it was better to apologize afterward than to seek permission beforehand. Sure enough, after two weeks of meet-and-greet to re-introduce themselves to the natives, Woolsey had contacted the Coalition as a 'politeness', and the Coalition had 'politely' requested that the Expedition members 'refrain' from further Gate travel. Within three days of the report being sent to the SGC, the IOA had shown up and, as a 'gesture of good faith', had made the Coalition's 'request' an official order.

The whole setup made John want to punch something. Or someone. And he wasn't the only one. He'd heard Lorne had tried to break up a fight between Rivers and a new recruit and had been pulled into the altercation himself. Both Rivers and Lorne had ended up in the infirmary and were given a dressing down by the doctor. There were other reported confrontations; the situation was affecting everyone.

"The analysis would proceed much faster if we set up a remote method so I could direct the examination." Rodney had returned to his standard argument. "That room could be connected to ZedPM research or drone production. And the experts are sitting on the sidelines?" He raised his voice and hands. "What can we expect from the second banana and a green team?!"

'Fruit salad' was an answer, but McKay didn't expect a reply and John knew better than to voice his thought. He gritted his teeth instead; he'd been bombarded with some version of Rodney's Rant for the last nine days. Work in the consoles room had begun slowly, with, as Rodney pointed out, many personnel not normally employed in such research. Forbidding scientists with the gene to participate did hinder the process, but Zelenka's team had just broken a section of encryption on one of the consoles. Continual shifts would now be investigating day and night. Even McKay couldn't ask for more than that.

To avoid encouraging Rodney's mood John turned his attention back to the device in his hand. He concentrated, focusing on its shape. He 'felt' he should know its purpose and see a mellow glow of power. Could he divine the object's function? It fit in his hand, the warmth of his skin against the smooth surface.

McKay cleared his throat impatiently. "I said, 'Try another one'," he repeated his command.

John clenched his fist around the lifeless object. "No. The deal was 'one object per day'. I'm outta here."

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

John was out the door and running before conscious thought had formed a plan. His bare feet slapped against the floor. He rushed down the corridor, twisting deftly to speed past someone coming toward him. Awareness suddenly sank in ~ there were no alarms, no other harried personnel reacting to the emergency. Instinct was giving way to reason. John looked over his shoulder; the casual passerby had gone. With slowing steps John rounded the corner and nearly collided with a security detail ~ the night shift. Both men were understandably surprised to see their CO, shoeless and in sleepwear, in the hall in the middle of the night.

With as much decorum as his attire and the circumstances allowed, John turned around to head back to bed. His heart was still racing. He'd been on his way to the Control Room because he actually had believed the city was under attack.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

Security would have submitted a report, but from the lack of furtive glances in the mess hall John knew his late-night dash was not public knowledge. Except his teammates were not 'the public' and it was clear they had knowledge. John set his breakfast tray on the table and sat down. It didn't take long.

"So, is this like before?" Rodney asked around a mouthful of muffin. "Bad dreams and sleepwalking?"

After pulling back the peel of the Pegasus version of banana, John began to slice the tubular fruit onto his shredded wheat and bran flakes. "No. Not like before."

"You don't think Atlantis is trying to tell you something?" McKay washed down muffin with reconstituted milk.

John leveled a stare while holding the knife and banana. "I just told you it was not like before." He bit off each word.

"My, aren't we testy."

John ignored Rodney's comment. "This was more...anxiety. I was sure, I mean I really knew, the city was under attack." John curled his lip. "I still feel it. Like an itch on the back of my neck. I know somethin's gonna happen."

"You are under stress and not sleeping well," Teyla inserted.

"We're all under stress," Ronon added. He bit into a slab of ham. "What's there to negotiate? We're here to stop the Wraith. The Coalition should be glad of our help."

"The IOA was very reluctant to allow Atlantis to return to Pegasus," Teyla reminded them. "Perhaps they have found an ally here to help them reverse their decision."

"If the Genii are still behind this they may want the city for themselves," John suggested. "You know, 'under new management' so Ladon can get his hands on Ancient tech."

"The IOA wouldn't allow them to take the city away from us," Rodney offered hesitantly. "Would they?"

John tensed. "If they try, they'll have a fight on their hands."

Teyla soothed Rodney's fear. "The IOA would not give up Atlantis. It is our role in this galaxy that is being questioned."

Rodney was unconvinced. "I don't trust that woman; she still wants Woolsey's job. I don't know the Russian but Bates is okay, I suppose." He looked at Teyla, who looked at Ronon, who shrugged. Rodney became sulky. "So, Dumb and Dumber talk things over and we check for spiders in empty closets. Spring cleaning. I could analyze Radek's information in real-time if I had a direct link. The gene-thing means no direct access and he says it's too inconvenient to send a report more than once per day. What about my inconvenience of only one report per day?"

John brought his fists down on the tabletop, quietly but with intent. "You demand a report from Zelenka first thing each morning, then you complain all through breakfast. You're giving Ronon indigestion." The big guy stopped chewing and looked fierce. "We finally have our full crew and the time to focus on the city. Teams are re-investigating every 'empty closet' because we know 'empty' on the map doesn't really mean 'empty'. You could help those teams, but you'd rather gripe. You've said for years you haven't been able to pursue your 'groundbreaking research' because going on missions and saving the city take too much of your time. We have no missions. The city doesn't need to be saved." John leaned in and spoke in a dead-serious voice. "The 'inconvenience' is not all about you. You don't want to get involved in a project because you're biding your time, hoping Zelenka will call on you. Quit second-guessing the 'second banana'. Let Radek do his job. You do something else."

Stunned silence followed the severe delivery. They had all heard their team leader shout orders or even yell in frustrated anger, but not steel his voice in this kind of articulation.

"John is right," Teyla said gently. "We must use this time."

"Let's see. I could lend my expertise to Paine or Beil," Rodney allowed. "Beil's team is working on what we think are banks of datafiles we located when IOA 'leadership' nearly blew up the city. The banks are not connected to the Control Room or central database and with no way to power them up, it's like running a magnetic pencil over a smashed harddrive. They get bits and bytes but no 'big picture', so it's a waste of my time."

Which, John knew, was why McKay wasn't working on it. If he thought there was anything interesting in any current pursuit Rodney would have jumped at the project and taken over as lead.

"On the other hand, Paine's team is cataloguing a room of equipment that has no interface and again, without power we don't have any idea what anything does so it's also a waste of my time. I certainly have a difficult choice on my hands," Rodney snarked. He finished, "I'll get a broom for the spiders."

Ronon looked at Teyla. "The IOA can't stop us from visiting friends. And they can't stop our friends from giving us information. Or showing us something we may have asked them to look for." He steadied his gaze. "We can still gather intel."

"Will Mr. Woolsey agree to that?" Teyla asked doubtfully.

Ronon stabbed another slab of ham. "We don't need to tell him," he declared, then tore off a bite as an end to the matter.

"For..." The word was barely a whisper, as if the colonel had something else on his mind.

Rodney shuffled the napkin to uncover the fork, thinking it an odd implement to eat cereal. "Here." He waggled the utensil but failed to catch his friend's attention. "Sheppard?"

"John?" Teyla shook the colonel's sleeve.

Sheppard refocused his gaze and looked at his team. "What?"

"What just happened?"

"Nothing, Rodney. I thought I saw someone." The colonel redirected his gaze back over the crowd, then stated vaguely, "I need to apologize for barreling through the hallway last night."

Rodney looked across the mess, wondering which of the people standing in line at the food tables had seen Sheppard in his pajamas and had managed not to blab about the striped pants.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

"I should find a way to clone me," Rodney proposed. "That way I could be working on the consoles and if anything went wrong, there would still be a me, just in case."

The city could blow up or other people could be killed, but there would still be an extra Rodney, just in case. John wasn't going to advance that line of thought by giving any response. He watched as McKay checked an inventory list against several boxes. "Let me see the one from yesterday."

Rodney paused with his finger on the screen. He asked warily, "Did you feel something?" Not awaiting an answer he added, "It doesn't count. You still have to try a new one for today."

With the object in his hand John tried again to 'feel' some sense of its purpose. It was familiar ~ the shape, touch, glow. John closed his fingers around the solid warmth, cradling it in his palm. Something flitted at the edge of recognition.

"Well?"

"Nothing." John shook his head and reluctantly handed back the item. "Let me have a new one."

Rodney adjusted a cable and tapped a couple keys on his tablet. "I've spoken with both Beil and Paine, the latter appellation evidently being very apropos, since two people requested transfers due to 'friction' in his team. Beil, on the other hand, is hard at work trying to make sense of raw data that has no point of reference, which is like trying to piece together confetti after a Christmas Parade. We have our usual teams number-crunching through the Database and after all these years we're now about twelve per cent into it and that's transferring, not translating. Since we're prohibited from going off-world to look for Tech solutions to our power and defense problems and we're limited in the number of scientific teams available to look for spiders, I'm left with updating the list of planetary Gates and star maps."

"Be glad you aren't Woolsey. Look at what he has to deal with." John waited while Rodney checked the inventory list, opened another box, and handed over another object.

Rodney snorted. "I heard they hold a two-hour debriefing every evening to tell him what they didn't get done during the all-day session. Maybe I should have a debriefing with Radek every evening rather than wait until morning for him to write up his report and tabulate data of the previous day's activities. Why should I wait until the next day to learn about the decryption or to find out he's noticed a blip in the room's energy reading?"

John ignored Rodney as he segued into a modified rant about Zelenka's bull-in-china-shop approach to deciphering the purpose of the consoles. McKay just couldn't let it go. And, once started, the man could go on and on. John sighed and considered the weight in his hand while tuning out McKay...which was hard to do, when the city's defense was foremost in his thoughts.

"Sheppard!"

John looked up; McKay was waving the tablet. "What?"

Rodney waited a moment and seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say. "What is wrong with you?"

"Wrong? Oh, I don't know. What about trying everyday to activate...gizmos when there's no clue to what they do?" John rose to his feet, preparing to leave. "I don't have time for this crap. I have another meeting with Woolsey because he's pretty certain the IOA's going to cut our funding and we have to figure out how to stop it or what to cut." John handed back the device. "As for you, I mean it, Rodney: Leave Radek alone or I'll have you barred from being anywhere near the consoles room."

John knew it was childish but he left in a snit. He was irritable, tired and he still had reports and spreadsheets to evaluate. How long would it last? Weeks of stagnation, rotating through Gate teams because only one team per day was allowed to make one trip, for humanitarian purposes. It was taking as long to visit friends and re-establish contacts as it took to set up the initial relations for trade and the 'neighborhood watch'. Six weeks back in Pegasus and a month of that spent under house arrest. John scoffed silently. At least he didn't have Woolsey's job ~ making 'nice'; he didn't think he could keep his fists in his pockets.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

"There's our fearless leader," Rodney announced. He lowered an un-sipped spoonful of soup and frowned. "Looking lost."

Sheppard was framed in the doorway of the mess hall, perusing the room as if he were seeing it all anew. He eventually approached the team without going through the chow line.

"You're late."

Even Rodney's accusation brought no response. Sheppard stood by the team's table, still visually inspecting the hall.

"John? Do you not intend to eat?" Teyla voiced her concern. She pushed back her chair and by taking hold of Sheppard's arm she essentially guided the man to his seat.

"Where have you been?" Rodney wanted to know. The luncheon crowd was still arriving, but many people had already eaten and departed. Rodney peered closer. The colonel looked...odd. And he hadn't answered their questions.

Sheppard touched his brow and shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. He looked at Teyla. "I'm not hungry." He switched his focus to Rodney. "I left your lab. I was on my way to my office and then... I was heading for the Chair Room." Sheppard looked down at his palm, opening and closing his hand.

Rodney was reminded of the Ancient object that had held the colonel's attention. "Is Atlantis trying to tell you something?"

"I don't think so." Sheppard actually sounded pretty sure. "This isn't like before. It's not sleepwalking."

"John, you should visit the infirmary," Teyla said quietly.

"I don't need a doctor," Sheppard argued defensively. "I need sleep and I need the IOA and the Coalition to take a hike."

"Talk to Jennifer," Rodney advised Teyla, "not Carson. I asked for help in his professional capacity and he snapped at me. I had to take care of the problem myself." Rodney raised his index finger to display the bandage he'd applied on his own.

Sheppard was staring into the middle distance. Ronon turned around to look over his own shoulder for whatever was holding their teammate's attention.

"John?" Teyla asked softly. There was a moment of delay before the colonel looked at her. "What is happening?"

Sheppard shook his head slowly. "A couple times I've had the feeling I recognize someone, but I don't know them..."

Rodney raised his sore finger. "He 'spaced out' on me when he was testing a device. It happened twice, but he said he didn't 'feel' anything and there were no measurable energy readings."

"John?" Teyla prompted. "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know. It feels like always, but I know it's not. I can't explain. I'll remember something, but I know I don't know it." Sheppard closed his eyes. "When I think back, on our arrival, I know it wasn't like that. Not at first." He angled his head. "So, since the whole IOA thing? Hell, could be only a couple days."

"It's too much like before." Rodney looked at Teyla and Ronon. "Atlantis is probably telling him something and we need to ascertain the message and determine the problem."

"It's not like before. I've told you that." Sheppard puffed in impatience. "When I'm around Ancient tech there's a...'hum' in the background. I can almost hear it. In Atlantis, I...I 'feel' her" –he grimaced at Rodney– "like 'vibrations' along with the gentle hum. There's no discordant note now. Nothing to make me feel anything's wrong with the city." The tone was definite.

"The city's not in trouble, but you are," Ronon stated.

"What about more anxiety attacks?" Rodney asked.

"If you're asking if I 'feel' something's gonna happen, the answer's 'yes'." Sheppard frowned. "But I remember it, as if something's already happened, but I know it hasn't."

Rodney waited, but Sheppard didn't continue. After a few seconds Rodney became uncomfortable with the look on his friend's face. "Sheppard? Sheppard!"

"Quit shouting, Rodney. I'm fine."

"You are not fine!"

"John, you should eat something," Teyla said gently.

"I told you I'm not hungry!"

The team set Rodney's bowl of soup, Teyla's fruit salad and Ronon's roll in front of Sheppard. Teyla held up a clean spoon.

The colonel nodded once, acknowledging the proffered meal. "Thanks. Maybe soup. Then I have to get back to paperwork."

Teyla looked at Ronon and slanted her gaze at John. The big man nodded ~ he would accompany their teammate to make certain the colonel took no detours on his way back to his office.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

Barely an hour later John ran from his office, radioing his team to respond to an explosion in the consoles room. Into the transporter, back out, sprinting down hallways, he reached his destination, maneuvering through the frantic crowd and thick smoke. He elbowed past obstructing onlookers and stepped into quiet order. No damage. No destruction. Seven people in the room, standing, sitting, working with computers at small tables.

Radek Zelenka looked over and slid his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "Colonel, you shouldn't be here."

John backed into the hall. He knew there had been an explosion. And there should be only three people ~ at the consoles.

The sounds of hurried footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. John's teammates had arrived. McKay stuck his head past the doorframe and looked around.

"Not you too, Rodney. Stay out," Zelenka ordered tiredly.

Rodney turned back into the hallway and hurriedly began typing on his tablet. He juggled items in his pockets and pulled out a handscanner. Teyla and Ronon approached John. "What happened?" Teyla asked carefully.

John looked into the distance. "I can't explain it. I know there was an explosion. That room was destroyed, then rebuilt. It was designed for three specific people at the consoles, each console attuned to the individual's ability."

"John, look at me," Teyla commanded. "What did you see?"

"Smoke. People screaming in the hall."

Ronon asked sotto voce, "Are there whales here?"

Rodney stiffened. "Different planet and no, it's not whales."

"But those images seemed very real," Teyla countered. "Perhaps it is something like that here."

"I don't think so," Rodney replied, still typing while monitoring the handscanner. "It may not be Atlantis herself, but it's something in the city. There's a shift in the ATA field, strongest and most focused here, but emanating from... where Beil's team is working on the datafiles." Rodney looked at his teammates. "Sheppard's picking up a broadcast."

"Why now?" Ronon asked.

"Ronon is correct," Teyla stated. "Dr. Beil's team has been working on the databanks for almost a month. Why is John only now seeing these images?"

"I have to go to the Chair Room," John declared. He headed back down the hallway, moving around people who seemed real and familiar, but by their dress he knew they weren't physically present. He stopped suddenly. "Another explosion."

"Are you viewing a loop?" Rodney inquired.

"Yes and no," John replied as he rubbed his brow. "It's like the history through the ages but all at once. They tried several times to make the weapon work. It took out the room, then most of the wing. Then the entire pier."

"Well, that answers that question," Rodney snarked. "Why the room is so far from anywhere. They knew it was dangerous."

"Is it dangerous now?" Teyla asked. Her attention was on John but she prompted Rodney's analysis of the situation.

"I don't see how. Zelenka said they noticed an indication of power in the room yesterday morning and again this morning, but it's hardly measurable and doesn't seem to be connected to the consoles. Nothing happened, like a background blip."

The teammates paced behind John as he walked briskly through corridors, voicing a running commentary of what he could see and what he knew was happening in the city. As they passed a window John looked skyward and said, "The attacking force is not Wraith. The stars are wrong for Pegasus."

Rodney nodded. "We know some of the Ancients' past; they didn't come from here. It also means they were at war with other races in other galaxies before Pegasus and the Wraith."

At another window John studied the sky intently. "Smaller than Aurora-class. I can't believe the number of Jumpers."

The group entered the transporter and exited, bound for the Chair Room. "They stockpiled ZPMs," John announced. "It requires a lot of power to manage the interface."

"What interface?" Rodney queried with keen interest.

John stopped again. "Ford. He's heading for the railguns."

"You can see him?" Teyla questioned.

John canted his head. "No, but I know it. I thought I saw him at breakfast," he murmured before continuing to the Chair Room. The team passed an alcove near a large room. John kept walking but he smiled and said, "That's not what we use the room for."

Rodney glanced curiously into the alcove as they walked by. "Do you see how they make ZedPMs?" he wanted to know. "Or what about drones? Can you see drone manufacture?" he pressed.

"I can't slow it down," John answered and squeezed his brow with one hand. "It's like a compendium of Atlantis under siege."

"Great," Rodney muttered. "The speed-reader's version of the CliffsNotes of 'War and Peace'."

Upon reaching his destination John slowed. The occupant of the Chair had pixie features and short, dark hair. She was born to the position; it was in her bones. Her eyes were closed as she focused her strategy, intent on the task at hand ~ managing the defense of the city. She opened her eyes as if she knew John was there. It felt like an summons.

"John? What are you doing?" Teyla commanded an answer.

"We're under attack." John stepped onto the dais.

"John, I assure you, we are not under attack. Please step down." Teyla signaled to Ronon to approach the Chair.

But John sat down and the lights glowed around him.

"Rodney? Are you doing something?" Radek Zelenka hailed McKay over the radio.

"Why? What's happening?"

John leaned back in the seat. "The consoles are specific to the individual's talent. They're needed to control the subspace flow."

A chill of shock froze Rodney's spine just as Radek's voice squawked in his ear: "Rodney, there is surge of power in the room, but no power in the consoles. I don't understand."

John heard their voices distantly as unimaginable power and knowledge flowed into his being. "I can see it all clearly. The entire history of Atlantis at war. Every battle."

Into the silence generated by the statement came another communication from Zelenka: "There is reconfiguration occurring in the central triangle. A containment field is forming."

Rodney looked at Sheppard, then at his tablet and the handscanner. If the interface was powered by the ZedPMs, were the Ancients attempting to power the weapon by directly extracting energy from subspace? And the consoles, manned by specific Ancients, were necessary to control the extraction?

"Rodney, what is happening?" Radek sounded worried.

"Get him out of the Chair!" Rodney shouted. "No, wait! The Chair is stabilizing the interface. Sheppard! Shut it down!"

"John! Can you hear me?!" Teyla shook John's arm.

John opened his eyes. Superimposed over knowledge of the past was the sense of the current danger. It felt as if energy were being channeled through him. He focused, concentrated, slowed the course of power raging through him from the Chair. "Can't-hold-it-for-long." John uttered the words through clenched teeth.

"Radek! Get out!" Rodney shouted into his radio. "Leave everything and get everyone as far away as you can! Run!"

Teyla turned her back and tapped her earbud. "Major Lorne, this is Teyla. You must immediately remove the ZPM from the power grid! ...No, this cannot wait! ...You must–"

"Lorne!" Ronon's voice boomed. "Do it!"

Rodney could only stare in helpless horror. Would the explosion take out the room, the pier, or the whole city? Or could Sheppard contain the interface? And at what cost? Rodney checked his tablet. The ZedPM was showing a minor depletion, but the colonel was under immense strain. The veins stood out on his temples and sweat beaded his brow. The man's face was red, his knuckles white, and the tendons in his hands were prominent as he gripped the Chair's palm panels. How long could such intense concentration be maintained?

Rodney couldn't breathe, but his heart was pounding in his ears. After what were surely the longest four minutes of his life, the lights went out in the Chair and the colonel slumped.

Ronon and Teyla pulled Sheppard from the Chair and supported him on unsteady legs. They helped him to sit down on the floor and then to lie back. His breath rasped unevenly.

Hazel eyes rolled, closed, opened wide and several times blinked owlishly. "Whoa. That felt like about twenty Gees."

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

"Guys, I'm telling you, I'm okay," John insisted. And he meant it. The sense of foreboding, the anxiety ~ it was all gone. He felt ...fine. After fifteen minutes of lying on the floor just to catch his breath, he did feel fine. Now, if the interfering asses known as the IOA and the Coalition would just dissolve in the rain...

The team was on the way to the infirmary, a unified, tight-knit group. Teyla marched alongside John on the left, Rodney on the right. John looked over his shoulder at Ronon, who was so close he was practically stepping on John's boot heels. He was probably supposed to catch John if he fell. John was more concerned about being trampled by size-sixteen Satedan shoes.

"Look. I told you I don't need a medical unit. I'm fine." John used his most persuasive voice. "I'm tired and have a bit of a headache, but things feel back to normal. Really." John looked at the resolute faces of his team and tried again. "The room is sealed, no one hurt, crisis averted. I'm fine. Don't need a doctor."

"If you are fine," Teyla commented, "the doctor will say so."

"What are you doing, McKay?" Ronon grumbled.

Rodney answered without looking up from his tablet. "I'm checking the latest data from Zelenka."

"What?! I thought everyone was outta there," John barked. "I ordered that room sealed and red-flagged!" John made a hop-skip to be sure he stayed safely in front of Ronon's feet.

"Yes, yes, they're doing it," McKay assured. "These are just the final readings Radek acquired before everything shut down." He tapped the screen and paged through data. "And if I'm correct, this was a perfect storm."

"What does that mean?" Ronon asked.

"We know the Ancients weren't big on user manuals and explanations. In this case there was some slight precaution, although I doubt they thought of it that way. This is just another one of their mistakes left around for us to trip over and–"

"McKay," John interrupted patiently.

Rodney refocused his narration and glanced at his audience. "We'd been in the consoles room before. It was 'empty'. No one had any 'feeling' about it. But this time–" He lifted his bandaged finger. "...Sheppard raised the consoles because Beil was already accessing the databanks, Radek decrypted a console, and then Colonel Super Gene picked up the gizmo. Perfect storm."

John grabbed Rodney's tablet and came to a stop in the corridor. "What're you talkin' about?"

"You have a nice, big, 65-inch plasma screen. Only it doesn't work ~ it shorts the power supply every time you connect to the internet. A minor explosion. You don't want to junk it because you think you might repair it one day or at least make use of the parts. So you put it out of the way in storage and you shove the remote into a drawer somewhere. No note, of course, to tell anyone why it's in storage or what the remote connects to or..."

John raised an eyebrow and flattened his stare.

"Ahem. Yes. Well," Rodney continued, "even when your tv is not on, there's background power so the remote will be able to switch it on. By working on the databanks Beil 'turned on the wifi' nearly a month ago and it's been 'looking for a device' ever since. Sheppard was able to 'turn on the tv' because he could 'feel' the consoles. Radek's decryption focused the wifi broadcast, and then Sheppard activated the remote."

"There's a weapon in all this?" Ronon demanded.

Rodney looked sheepish. "Remember the Doranda mishap?"

"...'Mishap'? You blew up a solar system," John responded.

"Yes, well, this is microscale," McKay clarified.

Teyla asked slowly, "Why allow such danger in Atlantis?"

"They thought they could control it." John shook his head. "They may have thought it was worth the risk to develop it on a smaller scale than Doranda. Last-ditch effort against the Wraith."

"So, it's a weapon," Ronon challenged.

"Yes," Rodney verified, "but not a useful one at this time."

"I still do not understand the effect on John," Teyla said.

John kept hold of the tablet but gestured the team to begin walking again. "We can hear about it later. I just want Beckett to give me two aspirin for my headache and send me to bed."

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

In the infirmary Jennifer Keller waited. "I have everything ready, Teyla, as you asked," the doctor stated. "How are you feeling, Colonel?" she inquired professionally.

"Slight headache," John admitted. He gave McKay his tablet.

"Where's Carson?" Rodney inquired, looking around.

Keller was amused. "He's taking a day off. I think he's embarrassed by his behavior the past few days."

"Naturally!" McKay crowed. John lay down under the Ancient scanner as Rodney questioned Keller. "In the last few weeks have you had a lot of minor incidents resulting from squabbles? Have there been complaints of general irritability, insomnia, anxiety, people being argumentative and not being themselves?"

The doctor pushed some buttons on the computer and began the scan. "I suppose so. More than usual, but nothing serious."

"And they were natural-gene personnel?"

"I don't know..." Keller looked up from the monitor. "I couldn't say for sure, but the ones that come to mind, yes, I believe they are natural-gene personnel. Why is that important?"

McKay was already back at typing keys on the tablet. "When the IOA restricted us to the city, Beil's team got the job of examining the databanks we found when 'Great Aunt Madge' had us doing useless room searches a few years ago. There's no power to the databanks, it's a bit-by-bit job done manually, and we never checked for anything but energy readings. What's in the files is being transmitted via the ATA field," Rodney addressed Keller. "A history of Atlantis's battles, broadcast diffusely. Like a background irritant or a subliminal message. That's why natural-gene personnel have been on edge and ready for a fight. He, of course," Rodney indicated John, "was hit hardest."

"Doesn't seem very practical," John muttered.

"You're not an Ancient. I'm sure it wasn't meant to work that way and it wasn't supposed to be 'broadcasting' for no purpose."

"We had considered that the Ancestors would keep their history separate from the main database," Teyla mentioned. "Is there a way we could view their history by playing the files?"

"It's not a signal we can link to a device," Rodney explained. "Only natural genes pick it up ~ and react to it."

Keller studied the scan results. "There's evidence of some elevated brain activity, but beyond that, I'd say you're in tip-top shape, Colonel. I do want a blood sample, just to be certain."

John sat up and rolled up his sleeve. "What about non-gene personnel? Face it. Everybody's irritable."

Keller smiled indulgently. "Irritation is actually contagious. Like yawning. Plus," she made a moue of disgust, "the current circumstances have been enough to put everyone on edge."

"So, Beil starts the ball rolling by broadcasting, and that means the consoles are primed so they can be 'felt'–" John hopped to the ground after the blood-draw, pulling down his sleeve.

"Then," Rodney took over, "Radek manages decryption and starts working day and night, and finally you activate the gizmo and start 'remembering' the history of Atlantis in 3-D."

"What does the gizmo do?" John asked.

Teyla interrupted Rodney's explanation. She patted John's arm. "I am glad you are well. I must check on Torren. I will hear the rest of the story later." She nodded to everyone and left.

Rodney touched his tablet screen and typed some keys. "It's the only thing I can see that's linked to the Chair."

Ronon had lost patience. "How is this a weapon?!"

The answer was given absently as Rodney continued to page through data on his tablet. "Three people at the consoles to control the subspace flow into the triangular containment field; one person in the Chair to operate the weapon and decide the tactics of battle based on history of previous battles in the datafiles." He looked up grinning. "I think the gizmo actually is a remote ~ to connect the broadcast and subspace processes to the person in the Chair. You have the strongest expression of the gene and you have the greatest affinity to work with the Chair. Once you held the remote, the Chair was, in effect, 'calling' you. That link you 'felt' is why you were drawn to the Chair Room."

John shook his head. "It's all like a distant memory. I can't seem to recall any of it clearly."

"Which makes sense. When you're in the Chair you have a sense of everything in the city, right?"

"Yeah...?" John's drawl held suspicion.

"In addition to connecting to the city, you'd be able to access the databanks to help direct the battle, to recognize ships, adversaries, previous encounters, tactics, strategies, et cetera, but you aren't meant to retain the data. It's accessible while it's playing but it's not actually forming memory."

John rubbed his brow. "Headache's going away at least."

"Which also makes sense," Rodney stated.

"How so?"

"It requires four Ancients to work three consoles and the Chair. You're generations from being an Ancient, and you're only one person. You, alone, were trying to control the subspace breach with one working console and only one ZedPM."

"So, Sheppard saved Atlantis," Ronon declared.

"After he activated the weapon. We're lucky he didn't blow up the city or drain our ZedPM," Rodney argued. He looked at John. "If you hadn't raised the consoles or picked up the gizmo, you wouldn't have sat in the Chair and activated the interface."

"And who was it," John asked evenly, "who dragged me to the consoles room and handed me the gizmo?"

Rodney lost a beat before hiding behind his tablet. He grudgingly conceded, "You did an excellent job. Most likely because you have a military affinity that helps you in the Chair. Who knows. Radek had only begun access on the single console, so the process would be more stable and controllable with all three consoles, and if you had three ZedPMs–"

"It seems to me, Rodney," Jennifer inserted, "if he had had all three ZPMs, the effect on John might have been worse."

"Forget it, McKay," John ordered. "Three consoles and three ZPMs and even the Ancients couldn't control it." He added soberly, "Keep Doranda in mind. I will not risk lives."

"I suppose we'll have to put a red flag on Beil's project, too," Rodney admitted. "There's no way to access the databanks without driving the natural-gene personnel crazy and Sheppard can 'see' the history only if the gizmo and consoles are in use."

"Put the remote back in the drawer," John instructed. "And this time put a note on it," he added.

Jennifer shook her head. "I'd say we need further safety measures when exploring the city, but how do we take precautions against something when it's unlike anything we've ever seen?"

Rodney snorted. "Another case of not knowing what we have because we can't power it up."

"Should we tell Woolsey?" Ronon asked.

"I think we can tell Mr. Woolsey, but no written reports," John advised. "Last thing we need is the IOA thinking the city is too dangerous to be utilized at all. Anyway, less paperwork."

Glances passed amongst the four members of the group.

"Is he still off-world?" Keller asked.

Rodney said, "I heard he was allowed to attend this time to hear the compromise agreed upon by the IOA and Coalition."

"Actually, the 'compromise' turns out to be even more paperwork," John responded snidely. "The IOA will 'review more closely' our activities 'on behalf of the Coalition'," he quoted, then blew out a breath. "Which makes this day about perfect."

"You did have a first-hand experience of Atlantis," Rodney offered in consolation. "Do you remember anything at all?"

"I can't explain it. It's like watching home movies. Things were recognizable, sort of familiar, but distanced and faded. I knew the city, the people. It was all timeless." John continued wistfully, "Jumpers were in pristine condition. Lots of 'em. Sub-Aurora class ships had pretty good maneuverability. And there was a woman in the Chair. We had kind of a connection."

McKay threw his hands in the air, then crossed his arms over his chest. "Leave it to Kirk to remember nothing but the woman and the spaceships. What is with you and Ancient women? Did your 'connection' give you her phone number?"

"Not that kind of connection, Rodney." John spoke with a tired patience. "She had green eyes..." *~*

...

Author's Note: My own view is much of 'Season 6' would be taken up with all kinds of puffed-up posturing and finger pointing on Earth before it was resolved eventually to return Atlantis to Pegasus. [There would also have been a lot of sleight-of-hand to maintain the secret of the city's presence, some adventures which only Our Gang and Ancient tech could accomplish, some fun stuff with Ronon on Earth, and the thread to return Todd to Pegasus as the best hope of promoting a solution to the war with the Wraith. Besides, how would they feed him...?] The salient argument for Atlantis to be returned to Pegasus would be the city's unique ability to monitor and to deter the Wraith in order to keep the war at a distance. It would be far better to prevent the Wraith from reaching the Milky Way than to ignore the danger and allow the battle eventually to reach Earth's 'home court'. I assume if SG-1 had continued there would have been other bad guys to take the place of the Ori, and somehow a method would have been found to defend Earth so Atlantis could be released from the Milky Way. [I made brief references to this in the first section of 'Hurdles'.]

Some readers may wonder and yes, I did think of Sheppard's panda sleep-shirt, but I think it would be pretty well worn by S7.

This story is related to 'Underlying Cause' and 'Override', slightly, by referencing the fact that a weapon wouldn't be recognized if it couldn't be powered up (UC) and by the existence of banks of datafiles, which were discovered when 'Aunt Madge' was in the city (Ovrr). So, this story is VERY loosely part of the UC, Ovrr, ITFire series.

There is another tag scene (Chapter Two). This is a note to tell people to read no more if they are not John-and-Teyla fans. The story can end here and it is complete as a sci-fi drama. Stop here, if you do not want to read ship stuff.

For Iuvsbruce, who doesn't mind the minutiae.

Feedback is always appreciated.

Thanks for reading.