Title: Puddle Jumper Down (Part 1)

Author: ltcoljsheppard

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 7706

Summary: John Sheppard's puddle jumper crashes on an alien planet with one passenger on board - Colonel Steven Caldwell. The two men have to depend on one another if they're going to survive.

Special Notice - This story is based on an original RPG story; conceived, edited and revised by ltcoljsheppard, with permission from the original co-writers/players, including; drdanieljackson_sgc, kadiluv, mercurypagen, evangelinekent and longshot72_01.

Each writer of the characters in this story writes under a pseudonym (i.e. internet user name or their character/s name). This is a collaborative effort and each person has contributed a tremendous amount of time and effort on this story and the characters, whether they be Stargate Canon characters or characters that have been created for this story specifically; such as Dr. Madison Garman created by kadiluv; Ioann created by ltcoljsheppard and mercurypagen; Adam Carver created by evangelinekent; and Lili'th of Dakara created by drdanieljackson_sgc. I'd like to thank everyone who contributed to the original RPG for allowing me to undertake this wonderful project to novelize the story. The only thanks any of us gets is the occasional kind word in regards to our writing efforts and we would like to thank all of the readers who take the time to let us know how much you like this story.

In the 302 bay of the galactic starship, USS Daedalus, Lt. Colonel John Sheppard prepared to embark on a routine mission to extract the Atlantis Science Team from the planet's surface. That planet being designated P24-907, known by its indigenous people, and those who have a trading alliance with the teeming culture here, as Zoser. However, Zoser itself posed an anything-but-routine hazard and he didn't relish taking this trip yet again.

The majority of the planet's climate ranged from sub-tropical to tropical with a few more temperate zones. While the seasons tended to be, either, cool and rainy or hot, humid, and rainy, one thing was certain, the weather was notoriously unpredictable, especially in the mountainous regions. Rogue, hurricane force winds that came up without warning were frequently responsible for deaths and known for downing many aircraft. The planet possessed a particularly infamous area for this sort of thing which had borne a legend that very much resembled the lore of the Bermuda Triangle.

Zoser's atmosphere was equivalent to Earth's normal gravity with a single solar star. The sun, much larger than the one inhabiting the Milky Way system, was the sole reason for the green house temperatures of most of the planets in its particular solar system. Zoser itself was host to two natural satellites. With binary moons, like those visible from New Atlantea; the second, smaller satellite had been deemed too small and too distant from its host planet that its presence didn't seem to play a major role in the planet's gravitational fluxes.

The planet's range of topography consisted mostly of mountainous regions, most of it uninhabitable due to extremes of weather or the geography itself, if not both. The primary habitable areas of the planet were the tropical and sub-tropical bands bordering the planet's equator. This vast continent that nearly encircled the entire globe proved to be extremely and sometimes dangerously mountainous and densely forested with tropical and sub-tropical jungles and rainforests.

The mountains themselves appeared relatively young, in the grand scale of universal evolution, with very high and jagged ledges, caverns and peaks. To look upon them from the air, one would immediately think of the Himalayas or Colorado Rockies, only they were covered in forests and jungles instead of ice and snow.

During one of the first recon flyovers in separate Jumpers, both Lorne and Sheppard had noted that nearly every mountain was riddled with deep, almost bottomless ravines and cave systems. These caves and ravines were the main reason for the team being here and were of greatest interest to the Atlantean scientists, for they contained large deposits of a mineral known as Zosite.

A naturally occurring mineral, Zosite was best known for giving off a potent electro-magnetic type of radiation. The radiation itself was a non-lethal form to humans and other organic life forms, but its elements enabled it to act as a natural cloaking device. The mineral substance, in its raw form, could emit enough energy to disturb and sometimes totally corrupt electronic, man-made, and computerized navigational aids. It could blank out sensors and disrupt radio communications and, therefore, while Zoser itself can be easily detected from space, once a ship has entered deep into its atmosphere, all shipboard systems were at risk of malfunction. Combined with the rogue winds, smaller vessels entering the atmosphere often crashed and were forever lost in the deep forests or ravines or would crash through the earth itself into the vast cave systems beneath.

Besides the meteorological and planetary hazards, there were also several types of mega-fauna found in the deep forests. We're talking creatures similar to those found on an Earth 10+ thousand years ago and the likes of the Giant Sloth and Saber-toothed Cats, Dire Wolves and the like. The flora also widely varied and, while not overtly hazardous, some of the larger varieties could easily house dangerous insect life forms, like the giant mosquito-looking thing that John had seen on his first foray to the jungle planet or smaller reptilians.

Because of the rough terrain, the Zosan people relied mostly on a large four-hoofed creature for transportation. The animal reminded John of a cross between a giant llama and a horse, which he quickly dubbed as Equinox; a blending of the names for an equine and an ox. McKay had huffed at the naming of the creature, because he'd never been given a chance to christen anything. Colonel Carter, who'd returned to the Pegasus Galaxy on the SGC's request specifically to study this new and potentially powerful mineral, had grinned with amusement though, for John just had a creative way of labeling things, whether they were ships or animals… or Wraith. McKay had responded to her with a slight roll of his eyes before heading off to begin his tasks, which only made Sam chuckle softly at his back.

The Zoser council had allocated a number of the Equinox for the science team's use, along with experienced guides, to accompany them during their excursions to the mountains. They were a large, sturdy animal with a crest of ridged cartilage running down the length of their necks rather than a true mane. They were also slightly more intelligent than the average horse, though not by much, and often showed their stubbornness to obey when they felt the trail or task was too dangerous. The Zosan people had learned over the centuries to trust their animal's instincts, since they more than the humans, were adept to the ever-changing environment of the mountain ranges.

The people of Zoser had established their main settlements in broad, volcanic crater valleys which were a natural shelter from the extreme winds, afforded to them by the vast height of the mountains around them. These valleys were lush, fertile, and quite beautiful and had rivers or wide streams weaving through them and distant waterfalls that could be viewed cascading gloriously down the mountainsides. More than one Atlantean scientist murmured the word Hawaii as they looked up at the palm-like trees and the waters winding their way through the rocks to fall great distances to pools far below.

Okay, so… even with all that information there was one thing that made Zoser a real pain in the ass for Lt. Colonel John Sheppard - Zoser didn't possess a Stargate.

Due to the mineral's enormous effects on any type of electrical system and their power sources, the Ancients, in their infinite wisdom, chose to not locate an Astria Porta within range of the debilitating effects of the Zosite mineral. So it was with that wonderful news that the Atlantean team had taken a journey aboard the U.S.S. Daedalus, On board with them were two guests as well, returning from the Milky Way along with Colonel Carter was Dr. Carson Beckett who'd been handed his first official mission off world on his return to Atlantis while Dr. Keller remained behind with Mr. Woolsey to keep the home fires burning. With a small fleet of Puddle Jumpers they'd ferried out aboard the battle cruiser, Sheppard and his small crew of gene-possessing pilots took turns shuttling teams and supplies back and forth between the galactic starship and the planet's surface. The team, led by Colonel Samantha Carter, had been exploring, researching and testing all kinds of exotic finds on the newly discovered planet.

McKay's main task on this mission was to focus on ways in which they could establish a Stargate system on Zoser after harvesting one of the many portals in orbit around dying or dead planets throughout the Pegasus galaxy. This would not be an easy task in the least, for even after locating a Stargate on the planet's surface, the portal would need to be re-configured for its new location in the galaxy and put online in reference to the other Gates in the system.

The rest of the members of the science team were focused on mining the mineral and testing its properties, which proved to be difficult at best due to the fact that the mineral itself caused havoc with their equipment. Slowly, but surely though, they were making progress and testing their theories for the mineral's successful use in numerous applications. It would take painstaking refinement to achieve a controlled and workable compound from the mountains' raw mineral, but it'd been deemed possible.

Meanwhile, Sheppard and his flight crews spent two excruciating long weeks shuttling back and forth between the Daedalus and the planet's surface and, as much as he lived for the thrill of flying, Colonel Sheppard simply couldn't wait to get back to Atlantis.

John simply couldn't shake the feeling that every time he entered Zoser's atmosphere he was testing fate. And to make matters worse, the reports now coming in showed a weather system developing over the area he needed to fly through to pick up the team and their cargo. This new development caused him a bit of concern, but John was sure that he could get in and load the equipment before the wind speeds reached dangerous velocity.

As it was, he had to off load most of the Jumper's normal supplies to make room for all the science gear, equipment and samples the team would be bringing home with them. He refused, however, to remove some of the more important stocked items. He knew from experience that it didn't matter the distance or duration of the journey, never ever leave your basic survival equipment behind.

Sheppard tucked the medical pack and the food and water rations back into the overhead compartment where they usually remained forgotten and rarely needed. He liked it that way too. Once the crew members from Caldwell's team had off loaded the last of the optional equipment on board, he exited the rear hatch of Jumper One rubbing his hands together with a wide grin.

"Okay, boys and girls. Your assistance is most appreciated and won't be needed again until it's time to put all that stuff back in here in, oh, I'd say four hours, tops," he informed them with an obvious look at his watch. The weary men and women made unintelligible comments of complaint under their breath, but it was all in jest.

"Right!" Sheppard exclaimed, disregarding the bemused whines by ignoring them completely.

"And if there's nothing else..." John added, marching back up the ramp he strode through the cargo bay of his favorite ride toward the cockpit. Jumper One welcomed him aboard by powering up and turning on all the onboard lighting when she sensed his presence in the command module. The cargo bay had been lit and humming for the past hour as he supervised the Daedalus crew and guided their choices of which equipment to disassemble in order to make room for the science team. Dropping down in his left-side seat, he tapped his earpiece to announce his intentions to the bridge.

"Flight, this is Sheppard. Jumper One is ready to disembark on your "go". Colonel Caldwell? Is there anything you need, Sir, before we proceed back to the planet's surface?"

He was riding this flight solo and the "we", he inadvertently spoke of, was an unconscious reference to himself and Jumper One. It was not an uncommon thing to the Atlantean personnel to hear Sheppard speak of his interaction with the city or the city's systems as if she, Atlantis, was a living breathing partner. At first, the reference unnerved some of the expedition members, fearing that their military commander could be suffering from space dementia or some such illness. Over the years though they'd all witnessed Sheppard's uncanny relationship with all things Ancient and it seemed like a natural course for the unusual kinship.

"Nothing I needed other than you waiting on me to arrive..." Caldwell's non-modulated voice came from behind Sheppard as he walked up the ramp and through the cargo bay area of the Jumper. He was wearing his usual flight suit, but with his own black field vest, zipped up and secured but with no weapons save the field knife on his left hip and his sidearm in the holster secured along his right thigh. Caldwell slipped over into the right hand seat and dropped into it with the ease of someone who had spent a lot of time in cockpits. "I'd say that just about covers it."

When Caldwell's voice came to him from over his right shoulder instead of his left ear, John's eyes went wide. Stiffly, he turned his head to see the Daedalus' commander strolling through the Jumper as if ... as if he was coming along. Sheppard kept his hands on the controls as his eyes darted around the cockpit, wondering if he should ask... but then, nope, he didn't have to ask because the colonel simply dropped into the co-pilot's seat as if he really was coming along.

Caldwell tapped his earpiece, "Bridge this Caldwell. I am aboard and Jumper One is cleared for launch." He glanced over to Sheppard, waiting.

Wasn't there some rule about asking permission to board another man's ship before just commandeering it? John was certain there was, and he tried to recall if that was an actual law or just a show of good manners. His thoughts were preoccupied with that dilemma unaware that he was looking at Caldwell with a narrowed gaze until the colonel turned to him with an expression that clearly and silently demanded "Well?"

Sheppard turned to face forward sharply. 'Okay, this is gonna be weird.'

"Umm.. Flight, Jumper One... ready for launch," he finally reported to the bridge. Then he turned a hesitant grin to the man sitting beside him and offered officially, "Welcome aboard, Sir."

Sheppard prepped the ship for launch, initiating the inertial dampeners with a thought and the engines powered up at his command. Jumper One lifted evenly off the hangar floor and slowly spun its nose toward the hangar opening. On the other side of the great door was a black sea dotted with thousands of pinprick lights. He assumed the hangar had been cleared of personnel when the yellow strobes came on, accompanied by the audible alarm that signaled danger area.

Sheppard tossed a glance to Caldwell as the large hangar doors separated to reveal the vacuum of space beyond. With a final word from the Flight controller on the bridge, Sheppard gripped the controls lightly and Jumper One moved swiftly forward and exited the ship's fighter bay at speeds that rivaled the 302's. He immediately steered the tiny craft toward the planet's lower orbit, gaining re-entry without so much as a jolt to the passengers inside. He navigated the Jumper more by thought than the hand controls, most of the time not even realizing it.

As they neared the land mass where the Science Team had been holed up for the past two weeks, the Jumper was buffeted by a blast of wind. The small craft careened to the right and Sheppard's eyes widened and his expression turned serious. "We should never have felt that," he mentioned to Caldwell who dropped back into his seat as he rebounded from the right side of the cockpit. The dampeners should quell any movement of the ship, unless the outer force was truly more than the system could handle. John swallowed thickly and tightened his grip on the controls, setting his feet firmly on the floor.

As the ship descended toward the mountainous terrain and the thick canopy of the jungles that surrounded the area, the evidence of the gale force winds were unquestionable as the towering trees bent over each other and nearly in half. He had no clue what speeds those winds were coming in at, but he was fighting the Jumpers responses to it with everything he had. Tossing a wild look to the other pilot beside him, John warned him, "Hold on..."

Caldwell heard Sheppard's words and caught a hint of panic in his voice. Steven was like every other pilot who ever held a stick in his hand, which meant he would rather die than ever sound like he was not in total control of his aircraft, so if Sheppard was actually sounding a little worried, then they were probably well and truly screwed. Caldwell's eyes darted along the instrument panel out of reflex as he gripped the sides of the chair tightly.

"What the hell's the matter with this crate?" He managed amidst all the bucking.

'Crate? She's not a crate,' Sheppard thought in the back of his mind as he suddenly found himself fighting the controls with all his might. The Jumper careened wildly as a sudden wind shear smacked the backside of the ship, tipping its nose down. John threw a glance at Caldwell as the other man got thrown over the console in front of him but was able to lever himself in place with his hands on the edge of the console's shelf. John too was thrown forward but he held tight to the two control handles now pressed up against his ribs.

Sheppard concentrated on nothing but strengthening the dampeners if at all possible and sending more power to the engine pods. He got slammed to the back of his chair as the shear suddenly stopped, abating the strong push from behind and the nose came up sharply since he'd been trying to pull back to level her off to begin with. Now, with no resistance, the Jumper seemed to stand on it's back end for a second before John recovered control.

He took a deep breath and blew it out, looking over to Caldwell with concern. "You okay?" he asked. That was all he had a chance to say as another wall of hurricane-force wind slapped the side of the shuttle craft and rolled it over in mid-air. John was vaguely aware of the passenger to his right whose body that went flying onto the ceiling and then in an instant disappeared behind him… somewhere.

The Jumper was being pushed toward the ground, fast and furious, under an onslaught of crosswinds and downdrafts. The very speed of the Jumper caused them to lose altitude at an extra-ordinary rate and before he knew it the ship pitched off the top of a clump of trees. The impact sent Sheppard out of his seat and onto the console, slamming him into the angled window, then tossed him back to hit the chair like a rag doll. He clambered for the seat, reaching for the controls at the same time, but the ship skated off the tops of the trees and dropped into an opening in the canopy. The sun was blocked out suddenly by the surrounding jungle, blinding John as his pupils suddenly dilated and his vision tried to compensate in the sudden darkness.

He had no clue which way was up from there. The solid impact with what he presumed had to be either a large tree trunk or the ground itself, jarred his teeth together and flung him again like a beanbag under the console. Tucked in the small space nicely, he was forced to ride out the rest of the uncontrolled landing from the floor, then the ceiling, then something slammed him in the mouth and he was sure it tasted like boot leather so he took that as a sign that Caldwell had at least not been thrown from the craft.

The ship plowed through small trees and underbrush, shattered a few fragile shale type boulders and actually landed on a steep incline and came to a jarring stop. When the ship stopped moving, Sheppard took a moment to assess his surroundings from the floor and then slowly crawled out from under the seat where he'd been pinned by gravitational forces. Getting to his knees he peered out the windshield, noting the very sharp incline the cylindrical ship was perched on.

"Oh crap," he muttered and, as if on cue, the Jumper began to slide sideways in the shifting gravel. It hit something solid that felt like maybe a rock outcropping and the ship listed and tilted sharply and then began to roll to the downhill side. "Colonel! Hold onto something!" John shouted, not knowing if Steven was even conscious. He could only hope as he dove toward the back, into the cargo bay, and grabbed the storage netting with both hands. He got slammed around as the Jumper rolled down the slope, picking up speed, before the roll slowed a bit and John realized... they were suspended in the air. Hovering?

No. Dropping. Crap! The ship disappeared over the edge of a vast ravine and Sheppard wasn't aware of the final impact or when exactly the ship finally came to a stop.

~*~*~*~ Two Hours Later ~*~*~*~

Sound slowly came back to Caldwell's senses as a dull rumble that grew louder until it suddenly stopped, turning into a stillness that was very spooky. He felt all of his senses returning until finally his eyes crept open. He felt horrible to put it mildly and he blinked once, then again until his vision sharpened. The interior of the jumper was mostly dark, save for the dim emergency lighting and the moonlight filtering in through the front viewport which was amazingly intact and littered with sand, rock debris and leaves. Caldwell took a few breaths, feeling small jabs of pain through his ribs as his lungs expanded, then he began to slowly move, shifting himself so he could sit up and assess their situation.

Caldwell's intrepid and heroic move, however, was brought to a screeching halt as the pain from his right leg blasted up into his spine, drawing a sharp sound of pain from his mouth, which in turn made the dull pain in his head erupt into a white hot spear that pierced his brain. The Jumper's interior suddenly spun wildly in a sickening circle and threw off his sense of balance. Caldwell's hand faltered on the bulkhead support and he collapsed back to the floor of the cargo hold with a thump, fighting the overwhelming urge to vomit as the visual anomaly stopped moving. He raised his hand slowly, fingers brushing the right side of his head above his eye, he felt a wet, sticky substance that only meant one thing...he'd been bleeding. Caldwell let his arm drop and exhaled through gritted teeth.

"Sheppard..." The sound of his own voice startled him a bit with its rough, dry tone and the volume brought into focus just how quiet it was. How long had he been out? It was nighttime now? How long had he been out? This wasn't good. He coughed a few times, wincing with each spastic movement, then tried again. "Sheppard! You alive?" He could see the shape of the other man lying on the floor toward the front of the ship, face up, splayed out and not moving. "Sheppard?"

He was floating or sinking, maybe he was tumbling, he couldn't tell really. Maybe he was flying... or dropping... flipping over.

John groaned softly as awareness slowly came back to him. He was laid out on his back, arms flung out wide and breathing. Yep, he was breathing. What the hell happened? Another soft groan accompanied his exhaled breath, his fingers moved, then his hand, then he was able to bend his arm. Things were moving, pieces were still attached. That's good. That's always good.

John assessed himself slowly as his head swam in darkness, he didn't really feel like opening his eyes yet, he was sort of re-living a specific moment in Afghanistan when his Pave Hawk got shot down and slammed into a mountain, spinning out of control and sliding down the mountainside until it dropped off a ledge where it split in half on impact, throwing his crew to the four directions.

Oh crap, he realized... they crashed. Not flying or floating or hovering... no, tumbling and tossing and falling and sudden impact and ... ouch.

Slowly and with some effort he rolled onto his side with a groan and finally became aware of a voice calling his name. Caldwell? Oh thank god... Wait… Oh crap.. he's going to kill me.

"Colonel?" he groaned out.

Rolling onto his stomach, John rested his chin on the plated floor catching his breath. His head was spinning and throbbing and he just wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep. The metal of the ship's deck felt cool against his skin. The air around him felt as if he'd dropped into a sauna. The jungle, that's right. They crashed in the jungle... an alien, unknown jungle. Full of alien unknowns too probably. Yeah, right, with my luck, there's no probably about it, that'd be a definite.

He opened his eyes and peered at the jumper's floor a foot in front of his nose before chancing a glance around, first just his eyes moved about and then he turned his head carefully. Moving slowly, John got up on his hands and knees and slowly sat back on his feet feeling a bit light-headed. His head hurt and he reached up to find a knot above his left temple and the tackiness in his hair told him he'd bled a bit. It had stopped though, so that was good. Looking down at himself he focused on all his parts... nothing felt broken. He stretched his back and then turned suddenly realizing he'd heard the voice of his passenger.

"Colonel?" Spotting Colonel Caldwell lying in the rear of the jumper John crawled over to him. "Colonel Caldwell? You okay?" Noting the bloody knot on the man's head he figured no, probably not.

Caldwell let out a breath at the sound of Sheppard's voice, and if a silent breath could sound relieved and irritated at the same time, Steven Caldwell could manage it. He knew he was in pretty rough shape, but at least Sheppard was also conscious. It wasn't much of a start, but it was a start at least.

"Colonel? Sir? You all right?" John asked as he came closer, crawling along the floor.

"No.." Caldwell replied, managing to sound angry. As if to emphasize his condition he coughed, turning his head to the side slowly to avoid the vertigo and tasted a bit of blood. "I am definitely not okay. What the hell happened anyway?" Caldwell asked, squinting a bit at the silhouette above him, since that was about all he could make out in the dim jumper interior.

"We, umm… we survived an uncontrolled landing," Sheppard told him, looking at the ranking officer a bit abashed.

"Is that your way of saying you crashed the Jumper and we're lucky to be alive?" Caldwell retorted.

John chewed on his lower lip a bit. "Something like that," he nodded.

"Okay," Caldwell stated slowly from his supine position on the hard floor. "So why did we crash?"

Sheppard settled on his knees just to the side of the Colonel's feet, letting his eyes scan the other man for obvious injuries as he began to offer an explanation. "Well," he started, blinking a bit against the mild headache that was starting, "the weather system that grabbed us was pretty intense. Unfortunately, our sensors didn't pick up any anomalies due to the Zosite interference. The speed of those winds simply overpowered the inertial dampening capabilities... and that's saying something. We got slammed by crosswinds, updrafts and downdrafts...

"I've never felt so many changes in wind direction that didn't show a visible cyclonic system... but then again, maybe it did and we just couldn't see it. Our instruments are so screwed up from the interference even if they had detected it they might not have been able to alert us." John felt some stiffness seeping into his neck and shoulders, so he stretched a bit to try to keep his muscles from freezing up. He slid up toward Caldwell a bit, looking a bit pensive, then he ventured forward, "I should take a look... assess your injuries…."

Sheppard already ascertained in the few moments he'd been sitting next to the other officer that he had at least a minor head injury, that was obvious, and so was the odd deformity of his lower leg. The hitched breathing and the use of extraneous muscles when breathing especially while making minute adjustments to his position told John that the colonel probably had bruised, if not actually broken his ribs. It'd been a long time since he'd been an active Para-Rescue Jumper but he didn't get through all that training by not paying attention.

"Is it okay if I help you?" he asked before attempting to touch the other man.

Knowing Caldwell had always felt that he was more suited to be in command of the military of Atlantis than John was made Sheppard feel he always had to prove himself as a competent officer in front of Caldwell. And although the two men had learned how to at least work together and Caldwell had too much class to outwardly sneer or harangue him over their opposing views, the kind of trust it took to allow another person to help you when you're injured could be a touchy subject. His head was beginning to pound now and he looked up at the supplies on the shelves behind him as he rolled his head back trying to ease the tension in his neck.

"No, No...I got it..." Caldwell waved one hand dismissively at Sheppard's concern. He braced the other hand on the floor and tried to sit up. The sudden onslaught of pained ribs, vertigo and the slight shifting of his broken leg snatched a sudden sound from his lips...not a word exactly, but if it had been one it would most definitely have been a bit of profanity.

John watched as Caldwell tried to actually wave him off, as if he'd just simply smacked his funny bone on the end of a table. He wondered just exactly how much it would take before the colonel would place any amount of trust in him. He focused his attention a bit more as Caldwell tried to shift himself unsuccessfully and ended up causing himself a lot of pain. John just waited for him to settle again and finally concede to letting him help.

Caldwell slumped back to the deck, hurting and very angry at himself for being such a mess. "Fine, you can… assist me...but don't try to move me..." Caldwell ground out through clenched teeth, feeling the warm flow renewed and moving along the side of his head above his eye. His head wound had begun to bleed again and he closed his eyes and willed himself to not throw up.

Sheppard reached out and pulled open the front pocket of Caldwell's vest, pulling out his field dressing. "Yeah, I won't try to move you... yet. That was one aspect of medic training they drilled into us. 'Don't move the patient unless absolutely necessary and only after appropriate measures have been taken to secure all injury'," he told the older man with a small dry grin.

Standing up, he reached over his head and grabbed the large medical pack, dragging it to the floor as he sat back down. Opening the pack John found a pair of medical shears and used them to cut the long straps off the thick padding of the field dressing. Since the Colonel's head injury was a real bleeder John figured it'd take quite a bit of padded dressings to soak it up. Using a roll of medical tape, he carefully secured the thick pad to the injury. He'd save the long strips of fabric for securing the leg splint as soon as he could get out of the jumper to find a couple of sticks or something. He didn't think there was anything on board that he could use for one, although he'd request FracPacs on the jumpers from here on.

"How's the ribs? You look like you're having a bit of trouble breathing." Sheppard disconnected the buckles of the man's vest, then reached around one side to unlace the string holding the vest together, then unlaced the other side and pulled the vest off over Steven's head and put it aside within reach. He looked at Caldwell closely, then slowly unzipped his flight suit to palpate his neck, shoulders, ribs and torso.

Caldwell nodded slowly. "They hurt, yeah...but I can breathe well enough..." Caldwell kept himself still as Sheppard carefully tugged on the zipper, sending little jolts of pain through his torso.

"Sorry."

He winced and sucked in air as Sheppard checked for injuries with a soft touch, figuring out which ribs were cracked or bruised. John didn't see any evidence yet of abdominal bleeding or intense pain in the belly so that was good. He'd check that again a bit later though.

"I can wrap your ribs with an ace bandage. It'll help give you support and make it more comfortable to breathe and it should help you to move a bit if you need to. But I want to splint that leg before I try to sit you up," John informed him. "I need to get out of here first... find something to use as a splint."

John looked around the interior of the Jumper, noting that the power was out except for two small emergency lights running on a power pack unit. Could be a cracked crystal, he'd check that out in a bit. Retrieving a small object from the med pack, he turned to regard Caldwell seriously. "I have some morphine here. Have you ever had morphine before? Are you allergic to it or any other meds?" he rattled off out of habit. "It's either this or Tylenol and something tells me you're going to need something stronger than acetaminophen -."

Caldwell blinked and took a deep breath. "Just..!" The word came out a bit angrier than he wanted, but he was having some trouble reining in his feelings and the hissed word brought John up short. "Just… bind everything up and I can help you get me out of this thing. You… don't have to… do it alone. Okay?"

Sheppard ignored the uneasy feeling that was peaking inside him. Caldwell had a manner that reminded John way too much of his disapproving father back on Earth. He shook off the urge to wince or cringe since disapproval was something he'd gotten used to long ago.

"Yeah, I'll bind you up after I find a splint and secure that leg," John repeated. "Then we'll get you sitting up so I can bind your ribs. Don't want you flat on your back for too long, you'll end up with fluid in your lungs and… that won't be good either. As far as getting out of this thing... we're not. I have no idea where we are or what's outside that hatch. This is the shelter we know and unless I find something a whole lot better out there we're staying put. You're staying put," he amended the last.

Steven scowled at Sheppard, not used to being told what he would or wouldn't do by a person of lesser rank. He couldn't deny though that in this instance, the Lt. Colonel was in a better command condition at the moment.

"So how about it?" John asked, still looking at the vial in his hand. "You ever have morphine? Any problems with taking it?"

Caldwell gave a sharper shake of his head. "I've had it before with no adverse effects. Just don't overdo it. I don't want a fuzzy head right now. All right?" he said and John looked at him with a twisted expression.

Fuzzy head? He thought as he blinked at the bald dome. Then he shook himself from that humorous image, realizing that wasn't what the colonel meant. Steven caught the perusal and remarked sardonically, "I don't want my thinking to get fuzzy."

Sheppard tossed him an odd look again. "Right, 'cause you're thinking pretty clear right now..." he stated a tad sarcastically. His head was starting to pound and he pressed a palm against the knot on his head. Taking a deep breath John pressed the morphine metered-dose syringe against the colonel's good thigh so as not to disturb the injured leg and held it in place for a few seconds to let it deliver the entire dose. "That should be enough to take the edge off. If you need more in a while I'll re-assess."

Caldwell felt the cool water sensation in his leg and then it warmed up as it began flowing into his body from his thigh, it spread up through him with each heartbeat, pushing back the waves of pain for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. He felt his muscles relaxing with the ebbing of the pain and he settled back, letting his eyes drift closed partly as everything in his vision got a bit soft around the edges

John watched him closely, waiting a couple of minutes for the pain medication to take full affect.
When the colonel's eyes drifted half closed and his body visibly relaxed John reached out and wrapped his fingers around the colonel's wrist, counting out his pulse. Once he'd gotten a good read on his heart rate he then took a quick blood pressure. As he was doing that John realized he should've done that before administering the morphine, but obviously he wasn't thinking too clearly either. He unhooked his canteen and shook out a few Tylenol from the bottle in the med kit before depositing the bottle in his vest pocket. He popped the two pills himself for his own pounding head and aching muscles and guzzled the water. He offered the colonel a drink and held his head aloft as he helped the injured commander take a long sip.

"That's enough for now. Want to make sure you don't get nauseous from it. Don't need you passing out and throwing it up only to aspirate it when I'm out scrounging around." He secured the canteen and put it out of Caldwell's reach, then moved to the cockpit.

After a few moments of moving around a few crystals in the "fuse box", as he liked to refer to it, the power came on strong for a brief moment then dimmed again. He moved to the rear hatch and hit the palm plate. It hummed, but didn't move. John pressed his hand against it and kept it there, leaning into it with frustration and then concentrated as hard as his throbbing head would let him. "Open, dammit!"

As if on his command, the hatch whined and creaked and slowly opened. Caldwell watched from the floor behind him, unsure of what to make of this Ancient gene that Sheppard possessed. It still took a few attempts to coax the hatch all the way down to the ramp position, but they worked as a team, as usual.

Caldwell studied the younger man's back as Sheppard leaned against the plate, murmuring under his breath as if talking to the ship and watching the tiny shuttle slowly respond to him. Once the ramp was down, Sheppard complimented his ship for her cooperation and peered out into the darkness of the underground cave. He drew his pistol from his thigh holster and listened to the dark outside. Stepping out of the back of the Jumper he descended the ramp slowly, his pistol raised and keeping alert.

He used his pocket flashlight to search the immediate area. All seemed quiet so he circled the Jumper to check its condition and how she settled on the ground. One drive pod had popped out from the side of the ship on impact but they were sitting on solid ground so that was good.

Venturing a short distance from the Jumper's port side John noticed that there was a light coming from above them and looked up to see the dense trees of the jungle high above. Immediately he looked down and searched the ground for splint materials. With the high winds on this planet there just had to be sticks and branches down here that would have been strewn around in the frequent storms.

A few minutes of searching the area of the underground cave yielded a great variety of timber, from kindling and tinder to start a fire to larger sticks and branches to make a splint and even a travois if needed. He returned to his patient who seemed to be resting more comfortably and began to splint the leg carefully. Normally it would be two people doing this, John was well-aware, but he didn't have an assistant available, so the task did cause Caldwell to be moved and shaken more than he would've had he had assistance. Sheppard kept apologizing and deflating inside as he realized none of this was endearing him to the colonel at all.

Sheppard removed Caldwell's boot and sock so he could keep an eye on the skin coloration through time, but the movements sent random jolts of pain through Caldwell's leg, dragging him part of the way back out of the morphine fog. Each tug and pull as Sheppard set and then tightened the splints...a few of the moves actually made Caldwell's entire body shift to one side or the other, drawing out a teeth clenched hiss of pain or a bitten off curse, his brows furrowed as the pain returned.

Once the leg was wrapped tightly and securely, John made sure he still had a pulse on the distal side of the splint at the top of his foot, to be sure the splint or the break itself hadn't cut off circulation to the limb, then he helped Caldwell to sit up carefully. He wrapped the man's ribcage firmly, but allowed for respiratory expansion, then he dragged him carefully to the side of the cargo bay to rest his back against the bench.

John looked at the colonel as he crouched beside him. "Hungry?" he asked.

Caldwell settled against the bench, eyes closed tight to fight back the spinning sensation the movement caused. The morphine made the discomforts a lot less severe than before, but it was still there. He finally willed his eyes open and looked at Sheppard. "Yeah...I can eat. Or should I ask, can we?" He looked around the dimly lit jumper slowly. "How are we set on supplies?"

"We're good for now," John assured him. "We have three days worth of food and water, Power Bars and MRE's..." he sat back to count off by memory what he kept in the packs. "I figure the water in our canteens will last just under two in this heat but we've got two Gerry cans… so I'll figure something out."

He stood up to retrieve the rations kit and got up a bit too fast, his vision blanked a moment indicative to a head rush and he reached out to grab the shelf. A second later he was good as new and set the rations kit on the bench and sat down beside it, tossing a look to Caldwell sitting opposite him on the floor and watching him closely. He shuffled through the MRE packs, reading the labels.

"You like beef stew... spaghetti..." John made a face, thinking that sounded nasty right about now although the stew made his stomach growl. "Chili with beans... no, no chili, thanks," he glanced down at the colonel and tossed that pack back into the kit, "… chicken and rice, chicken tetrazzini… we even have hash browns with bacon or mashed potatoes with chicken gravy as a side." He was already holding the beef stew and chicken with rice packets up in front of him as he waited for an answer.

Before Caldwell actually was able to grumble out his choice, John got up and walked down the ramp. Looking up to the sky he saw that the brilliant blue had turned a deep purplish blue and the stars were beginning to shine through spots of the overhead canopy. Time to make a fire.

He thought he heard a sound, a shuffling in the shadows around him. John scanned the darkness of the cave again, certain he wasn't just imagining that something was moving around down here. He stood still and silent, frozen in place, waiting for it to show itself… whatever It was.

Caldwell watched Sheppard for several moments before catching on to his actions. "What?" He asked in the barest of low tones, the kind that carry less than a whisper. Caldwell reached with his good hand, fumbling at the release of his holster and finally tugging the Beretta free, letting it rest on his lap as he gasped a few times from the effort. "Sheppard!...what the hell are you hearing?" he hissed again, anger seasoning his words.

John remained still for a moment longer before shaking his head and dismissing the sensation. "Nothing, Sir. I just thought I heard something. We're okay," he told the other man and then scooped up a bundle of twigs and branches and dropping them all a short distance from the ship.

He set to building a decent fire a few yards from the base of the ramp then prepared the chicken and rice dinner for Caldwell. When it was done he walked the pot back inside, stirring it carefully to be sure the heat permeated the entire dish and also to cool it enough to be eaten. A small but decent meal in his stomach and John would give him another hit of morphine to help him sleep through the night.

Handing Steven the small pot carefully with the spoon, John then went back outside to prepare his own meal. He could've easily prepped his with the warming units provided with the MRE kits but he wanted to sit outside by himself and use the extra time quietly, to assess whether they were alone in here or not. Sheppard strongly sensed that they were not.

Once he'd prepared his own meal, he moved back to sit down at the top of the ramp, close enough to Caldwell in case he needed anything, but far enough outside to keep watch.