Sonny Whitelaw: Blood Ties

Glancing across the bay at Jumper Two, John saw Major Lorne settling into the pilot's seat, while Teyla and Ronon had just stepped on board with Geisler, who sported a bulky set of sample collection bags slung over his shoulders and a huge grin on his face.

Although John was fully confident in Lome's ability to negotiate the jumper around a T. rex or two on 316, as well as in the rest of the Atlantis crew's ability to look after the city for a few hours, concern for Atlantis or his teammates wasn't what had his insides threatening to stage a revolt. It was the curtness of the communication from the General. Almost two decades in uniform had taught Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard a few things about giving and receiving various types of orders. He'd known straight away that the clipped command to track down Rodney and Radek and report to Earth ASAP foretold nothing good.

At least they wouldn't have to wait long to find out the details. Having acquired three ZPMs after they'd recaptured Atlantis from the Asurans, they could just as easily walk through the gate to the SGC as take a jumper. However, much to Rodney's disappointment, the additional ZPMs had been allocated to the Odyssey and the Antarctic base. In order to make the return trip, they needed a jumper to transfer between the Milky Way and Pegasus gate systems at the midway station.

While Jumper One was powering up under his mental command, John dug one hand into his jacket pocket and tossed Rodney a hoarded Snickers bar. He wasn't in the mood for it, and he could always buy more before the return trip.

The unprompted display of altruism seemed to make Rodney suspicious. His eyes narrowed even as he unwrapped the candy. "What's going on? You know why Landry called us, don't you? Spill it, Sheppard. At a minimum, just tell me that it has nothing to do with nuclear winter, mad cow disease, or an unexpected Canadian civil war."

John blinked. Sometimes the McKay mind was a very strange place. "I don't know what the hell Landry needs me for," he said. It was the truth; he was pretty sure he'd permanently crossed himself off Landry's Christmas card list when he'd hijacked the jumper to retake Atlantis not so long ago. The General was a pragmatist, but one with a very good memory. "You, on the other hand, he needs because Colonel Carter is tied up with some other big project."

"Excuse me'? Oh, for- You made that up," Rodney accused, jabbing in his direction with the Snickers. "There is no field of study in this galaxy or any other in which I should be considered second fiddle to Samantha Carter. You're just trying to mess with me."

"No, that's just a perk." The jumper's systems were online and fully operational. John knew that, in part because of what the displays were telling him, and in part because the neural feedback he received from the Ancient operating systems of the jumper feltright in a way that he'd never been able to fully articulate.

With a fierce look, Rodney twisted in his seat to face Radek. "What about you?" he demanded around a mouthful. "How'd you get roped into this? Has the SGC taken an inordinate interest in any of your reports lately?"

"They may have requested additional data from one of my ongoing projects," Radek answered vaguely. "I would not want to speculate as to their reasons"

"Which project?"

"One in which you evidently had little interest, since you delegated it to me some time ago."

To John's ears, the normally even-tempered Czech sounded tense. Rodney, of course, was paying no attention to nuance. "Withholding information for petty amusement is beneath you," he snapped. "Was it the generator from P5F- 216? If so, recall that I didn't actually claim it was worthless; I simply prioritized it below about sixteen legitimately vital-"

"I was continuing Carson's research," Radek cut him off with more bite than might have been necessary. "It was his work the SGC wanted. Are you satisfied?"

Out of the comer of his eye, John saw Rodney's supercilious expression freeze. How long would it be before they could talk about Carson and not feel every past tense verb like a sucker punch?

A while longer, at least.

"I see," Rodney replied, his voice half a step above inaudible.

Well, this was a fun-filled way to start the day.

"Jumper One, you are cleared for departure °"

"Copy that," John acknowledged, maneuvering the craft down into Atlantis's gate room. The sooner they got to Earth, the sooner they could sort out all this secrecy and get back to coping with their typical, run of the mill hazards. "We'll try to be home before it gets dark. Jumper Two, try not to get eaten."

Ahint of Lome's dry humor accompanied the reply. "We'll do our best, sir. And good luck."

John appreciated the sentiment; he suspected he'd need more luck than Lome.

The familiar liquid event horizon within the Stargate rippled gently as the jumper eased forward. Although John had long since become conditioned to flying through a gate on one planet and emerging seconds later on a different world, the fact that they could now traverse galaxies separated by three million light years with almost no effort was still a fairly novel experience.

The wormhole deposited them in the Stargate Command gate room smoothly. "Welcome home, Jumper One," greeted Chief Harriman, pokerfaced as ever behind his glasses, from the control room. "The General's waiting for you upstairs."

"Thanks, Chief. I assume our regular parking spot's available?"

"Yes, sir."

Guiding the jumper upward to the bay located above the gate room, John watched the stark concrete walls skim past the windscreen. The bland gray was broken by little more than a metal access ladder and collection of pipes and circuit boxes, reminding him yet again of the many reasons why he preferred Atlantis to the SGC as a duty station. There was a kind of majesty in the Ancient city's graceful lines and sky-lit spaces. The air smelled of clean saltwater instead of air conditioning; he could feel the wind and sun on his face anytime he liked, just by stepping out onto a balcony. Practical or not, the SGC's glorified underground bunker was no place for a pilot.

Parking between the jumper found by SG-l a few years back and Jumper Three, which had brought the head of the Atlantis expedition to Earth, John was surprised to see Elizabeth standing with her arms crossed near the metal blast door. Alongside her were General Landry in short-sleeved blues and Richard Woolsey dressed in bureaucratic dullness, which prompted another gut clench. At least two of those three people were supposed to be in Washington reporting to the IOA, an organization that usually didn't tolerate absences or delays. The apprehension that seemed to be radiating from the trio likewise didn't offer John much in the way of reassurance.

As soon as Jumper One's hatch clanged onto the deck, Rodney was out of his seat and striding down the ramp. "We're here, our trip was fine, all's well on Atlantis. Can we move on to some actual explanations, preferably of the rapid and detailed variety?" He gulped down the last of the Snickers bar and looked around for someplace to deposit the wrapper.

"Always a pleasure, Dr. McKay." Landry gave him a tight, closed-mouthed smile and nodded once at John's `better safe than sorry' attention posture. The General turned to the door and ran his card through the lock. Pushing the door open, he led them out. "If you'll all join me in the briefing room, we'll do just that."

The group started down the stairs, where John fell into step beside Elizabeth. "When did you get in from D.C.?" he asked, doing his best to ignore the dingy, featureless walls.

"Two hours ago," she answered quietly. "Shortest and therefore most pleasant 10A meeting I've ever attended-until they told me just what it was that took precedence over their vaunted biannual report "