As soon as Ford and Sheppard turned up, the team dialed up the next planet on their list of likely ZPM locations and walked through the 'gate. Rodney reviewed the information Teyla had provided about this planet: inhabited by a nomadic people who traded sporadically with the Athosians. She recalled that they had significant technology, although it wasn't up to Atlantis's level of sophistication. Sheppard caught his attention and Rodney stepped into the 'gate, hoping that whoever was on the other side wasn't fond of parties and ceremonial foot-baths. He'd had enough of them, thank you very much.

Rodney emerged on the other side of the wormhole and found himself in near-darkness. The air was crisp and cold, sliding slowly through his hair. They were definitely outside--he could see a few stars twinkling in the sky.

"Teyla?" Lt. Ford said, looking around warily, "I thought you said this place was inhabited."

"It was," She replied. "However, I was last here several years past, and the Taim'la are a nomadic people. Perhaps they have since migrated to another world."

"Or the Wraith stopped by for lunch," Rodney commented, squinting into a thick, predawn murk. The planet's sun was just beginning to rise, and without any man-made lighting to illuminate the area, the team was swathed in darkness. "Just how nomadic were these people anyway?"

"How nomadic?" Major Sheppard echoed sarcastically. "I never realized there were degrees of nomadism."

Rodney let his eyes roll heavenward. "Well, the Taim'la could migrate every year, or every few years. Or, they could move every season. They might be on this planet, but in another area or continent--from what little I can see, it's not exactly springtime here. Nomadism isn't an all-or-nothing lifestyle, Major."

John's attention wandered away from Rodney's diatribe as the creeping light began to uncover distinctly man-made structures. "I don't think it matters, so long as nobody's planning to ambush us," He said as Rodney's voice faded away. "Wherever and whenever the locals took off, they left their city behind."

The rest of the team turned to look down the hill upon which the stargate was located. Following the Major's gaze they saw the rough outline of a fair-sized city laid out in a narrow valley. Even in the unclear light, they could see that the city, while abandoned, looked far more modern than most of the places they'd visited so far.

"Ford, Teyla, take point. Rodney, try to make sure there aren't bad guys lurking." Sheppard said as they started walking down paved road that appeared as the sun crested the horizon. The Major stayed back a few steps behind Rodney, quickly noting both the composition and condition of its surface.

"Nothing so far," Rodney murmured, his gaze darting between his scanner and their surroundings. "Their paving tech looks like mid-twentieth century; judging by the type of particulate matter used in this road."

Sheppard nodded in agreement. "I'm not thinking this road's been made of 90,000 shredded radial tires," He concurred. "What's the climate like?"

Rodney started to access his scanner's data file, but Teyla was quicker to respond. "As I recall, the winters are extremely cold, with a great deal of snow. Their summer is short and hot, but the growing season is long due to extended springtime and autumn."

"You remember all that?" Ford asked, impressed. "I don't remember what I had for breakfast."

"We were trading for food," Teyla replied. "And had the misfortune of visiting during a winter storm. They generously allowed us to stay until the weather cleared."

"Not too friendly?" The Major asked as they neared the city. Now that they were closer, he could see that their initial estimates had been correct--this had been, at one point, a civilization about to enter the information age. "I'm thinking they left maybe five years ago," He added. "The road's not gone yet, but it's suffering, and the buildings are in the same boat."

"Still wondering why they left," Ford commented. "Even if the Wraith came. I mean, once they cull, it's not like they're gonna be back for a while, and this isn't a bad setup. Well...the buildings are a little small and kinda boring," He said, pointing to the single-story structures. "You'd think they'd have figured out stairs, right?"

"They were nomads," Rodney reminded the lieutenant. "The construction style reinforces that. Low buildings made out of lightweight materials, a city laid out in a symmetrical pattern. They never planned on staying here. Interesting how they were sophisticated enough to design this kind of dwelling to suit a transient lifestyle. Also, I seriously doubt stair usage indicates any particular level of technological advancement, merely the desire to be off the ground."

By that time, the team had reached the center of the small city, which took the form of a now-dry pool sunken into a large circular green. "I dunno," Ford murmured. "I'm not sure I'd just walk away from this place. I mean, it's kinda...pleasant, even if we never did see a power plant or anything."

"Indeed," Teyla agreed. "I detected no others here," She added, glancing at the Major. "We should investigate the buildings. Perhaps there is a generating plant elsewhere in the city."

Sheppard took stock of what they'd passed so far, and what he could see from their current position. "Ford and Teyla, take the left side of the main street. McKay and I have the right side. If you find anything remotely interesting, call in. We'll send for more hands and some jumpers if there's usable stuff here."

"What do you think?" John asked Rodney as they walked through the unlocked door of the nearest building. The interior was stale and shadowed, but there was enough light from the open door to work by. "Are we gonna find something we can use?"

"Hard to say," Rodney replied, taking out his utility knife. He began prying at a wall panel. "It depends on what direction their technology was going. If they were where we were at this point, the most we're going to find is things to trade with--like the glass in the windows. You never know, though. They might've perfected solar power generation or something."

Sheppard snorted. "Unlikely we're going to find pocket-sized fission reactors lying around here," He commented. "Do you want help?" He asked, even as he reached for the wall panel. "And what the hell are you doing?"

Rodney grimaced as he scuffed his hand on the panel. A moment later it came off the wall with a crack, sending the Major stumbling back a few steps. "I want to know what kind of circuitry they were using. They've obviously got some type of electrical system--they've got wall controls and light fixtures."

John joined Rodney at the wall. The space behind the panel was filled with an array of narrow, translucent tubing and wires. "That doesn't look like standard-issue copper wiring," He said, running a tentative finger along one tube. "Can you get any readings off them?"

Rodney was already scanning the wall, moving the scanner between three different tubes. One was a dull, matte grey. The second one had a slightly opalescent finish and the third reminded John of a glow-stick, only silvery instead of neon. "Hmm," Rodney hummed, moving the scanner around some more. "Fascinating."

John quirked an eyebrow. "What's fascinating?"

"This tubing," Rodney said, tapping the scanner against the dull tube. "I can't say for sure, but I've got a suspicion about what's inside. We need to take down the rest of these wall panels first, though." He put his scanner away and reached for the next panel. "This might be easier if we detach the panels here," He muttered, pointing to a clasp on the interior of the next panel. "It's a modular system."

Sheppard swallowed his questions about what Rodney thought he might have found and began fiddling with the clasps. Once he got the hang of how to unhook them, the rest of the wall's façade came down easily. "Wow," He whispered, stepping back to the center of the room. The now-denuded wall was a twisted mass of tubing. "What the hell?"

He looked over at Rodney, who was smirking in a way that told John that the man thought he was onto something. He had his scanner out and was taking readings along a series of tubes, then going back and comparing them to others. John decided to leave him where he was and explore the rest of the building.

After the third room, John decided that the place had been some sort of dry-goods store. There wasn't a whole lot left, other than the structure itself; some broken containers and papers with exotic lettering on them sat in neglected disarray along otherwise bare shelving. One room had a couple of benches along a wall, but furniture was strangely absent. It was as though the Taim'la had left carrying everything that wasn't nailed down.

That thought led him to another one, so John went back out the front door and studied the exterior of the building more carefully. When he reached a corner, he used his knife to pry back the plastic-like trim and found what he'd suspected he would find--connecting joints from the two walls. The entire building was modular, and he'd have put money on every structure in town being the same way.

So if literally everything the Taim'la had was portable, why leave the buildings? With enough people, they could've moved the city's structures in a few weeks. Instead, they'd taken all their possessions but left their shelter. It didn't make sense.

John went back into the building to retrieve Rodney. He wasn't as comfortable in the place as he'd been a few minutes before. "Well?" He murmured, looking pointedly at the wall.

Rodney fairly bounced in excitement. "I think we're going to need all the help from Atlantis we can get over here," He said, not noticing John's discomfort.

"Planning to take a house back to the city?" John inquired dryly. "I don't think they'll fit on the piers, but the Athosians might like having a few on the mainland."

"Not an altogether bad idea," Rodney agreed. "Certainly better than tents. The entire city is movable, isn't it? It makes sense, really. Why make the interiors of the buildings modular if the exteriors aren't also? Anyway, that's not what's exciting."

"Dare I ask?" John muttered, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"It's their power source," Rodney replied, staring at the wall. "We never passed a power plant because they don't have one--or any centralized power source. It's all in this tubing, see?"

"Not really," John said. "How's their power in there?"

"It's not the tubes themselves," Rodney continued, almost as though John hadn't spoken. "It's what's inside them--it's an organic matrix. The system's been sitting here for a few years, so parts of it are degraded. Those are the dull ones. But those bright ones? I think they're still active, just not charged up. From what I can tell, the system requires an input of water and halides--salts--and maybe a few other things. The output is a consistent, low-level electrical current. I'm guessing that as long as you keep the inputs at the correct level and do regular maintenance, the system goes on indefinitely."

"How low is low-level?" John asked, trying to avoid becoming the least bit hopeful. It didn't matter how neat Rodney found the system if it wouldn't power a 40-watt light bulb.

Rodney shrugged. "Everything here is small-scale, Major. However, what's installed in this building was enough to power its lights, circulation and so on."

"So you think we could use this tech?" John asked, reaching for his radio.

Rodney nodded and used his scanner to pick up a few more pieces of data. "I think so, yes."

John contacted Ford and Teyla. They'd need supplies from Atlantis if they were going to take anything back with them.

•••

Rodney and John stood at the edge of the dry pool, watching the bustle of activity around them. The Atlantis mission's scientists and engineers were poking and prodding the entire area, even as the military and quite a few Athosians were busy dismantling the best-looking buildings. "What happens if the Taim'la come back and want their city?" John asked as he watched Ford direct some marines as they loaded boxes of glowing tubes into a puddlejumper.

"Finders keepers?" Rodney offered. "They've been gone for years, Major. They had to have known that someone might move in, or worse."

"True," John agreed. "Have they figured out why the city got abandoned?"

Rodney shook his head. "The language isn't related to anything we know, and Teyla did say that only a few Taim'la spoke her language." He was about to go off on how stupid it was that they couldn't do any better with translations considering how many linguists they'd brought when he was approached by a group of his own scientists. "What?"

John watched in amusement as the younger scientists automatically flinched in Rodney's presence. "We think we know why the Taim'la left," One scientist said, his voice a lot more confident than his facial expression would've indicated.

"Oh?" Rodney murmured, only vaguely interested. "Will it kill us?"

"Only if we drink the water," Another scientist replied. "It looks like there was a small earthquake about five years ago. It didn't do significant damage to the city itself--the construction methods assured that--but it did open a fissure in the ridge that borders the city to the west."

A third scientist picked up where the second left off. "The problem with that is the aquifer. There's a natural deposit of arsenic in the ridge, but it used to be encapsulated. The fissure exposed the aquifer to the arsenic--

"So the water's toxic?" Rodney concluded. "And not just for the people. If their power source is what I think it is, then high levels of arsenic in the water would've denatured the matrix. It also explains why they left their city."

John frowned. "So this stuff isn't usable?"

Rodney smirked. "If they left because of the arsenic, then they obviously couldn’t remove it. We're a little more advanced than that--and so are the Ancients. Atlantis's desalinization units also remove trace minerals, including arsenic. We should be able to make use of what's left here."

"Which is nice," John agreed, "But that also makes this a shitty Alpha site, unless we can't find anything else."

"This valley, yes," Rodney concurred. "Without a reliable and portable filtration system, it's not a good choice, no. That doesn't mean there aren't other places in the vicinity of the 'gate."

"Which the Taim'la would've gone to if they existed," John countered. "Well, what we've got is more than what we had," He said, figuring that optimism was better than pulling his hair out. They'd already made plans to store as many of the portable buildings as possible on Atlantis, even if that meant stacking them along the piers. They couldn't justify setting them up on the mainland yet, not until they'd resolved the looming issue of the Wraith hive ships bearing down on Atlantis.

The Athosians were justifiably excited about the buildings, and it genuinely bothered John that he had to limit the number they took with them at the current time. They simply didn't have the manpower or the time to spend disassembling the entire city, not when they had less than two weeks to find a way to keep everyone from dying. If worse came to worse, they could use this planet as an alpha site, but it would require finding a clean water source and either relocating the city or hauling the water, and neither one was optimal.

John was also skeptical that Rodney and the other scientists could adapt the new power technology to Atlantis in time for it to do any good against the Wraith. He'd been the one to challenge Rodney to find a new power source, though, so he kept his mouth shut for the moment. If Rodney didn't get his ass in gear and go back to Atlantis soon to start on that project, John was going to haul off and throw him through the gate. Sheppard was all for the excitement of discovery, but he was even more for living through the next Wraith attack. He figured he'd give Rodney another couple of hours here before herding the man back through the 'gate. John knew full well that if he didn't, McKay would stay on this planet all night, right up until the moment he passed out from his oft-mentioned hypoglycemia and got carried back to Atlantis on a stretcher.

Sometimes John wondered if he'd signed on to explore a strange new galaxy or herd absentminded scientists--until he remembered his brief time at Cheyenne Mountain. General O'Neill seemed strangely content riding herd on his pride of very scientific cats. John thought he might've gotten gypped--his scientists weren't nearly as friendly or personable as O'Neill's. McKay could drive any man to homicide, and John considered himself a pretty laid-back kind of guy. Still, as soon as that aggravating Canadian opened his mouth, John could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and the beginnings of a growl try to claw their way out of his throat. He just wanted to throw the physicist to the ground and...

Well, that's where John's impulses invariably got a little fuzzy. Sometimes he wanted to pummel Rodney's brain into a gooey grey mass. Most of the time, however, he wanted to do wonderfully, obscenely biological things. Those impulses usually made John gape like a fish, which left Rodney plenty of opportunities to mock him fiercely.

At least all the mockery brought back the pummeling impulses and John could escape with a little dignity, even if it was of the sort only a twelve year-old could appreciate. John knew he came off looking like a petulant jackass, but he couldn't help it. And now, now they were facing extremely long odds and he had to go round up his annoying lead scientist and get him back to work before they didn't have enough time to make Rodney's harebrained plan a reality. Whatever that plan was, since John had no idea what Rodney was thinking, but he was oddly sure it was a good plan. Except that it was still a plan, not a reality, and that was John's job. Get Rodney to make something real and working.

Right.

John looked at his watch and determined that he'd frittered enough time thinking about random stuff and pacing through the abandoned city like he knew what he was doing. "McKay!" He barked, almost-stomping up to where Rodney was frowning at some dried-up tubing.

"What?" Rodney asked, not bothering to actually look at John.

"Now would be a good time to go back to Atlantis and start making this stuff into something...useful," John said in his best I-am-in-charge voice.

Rodney finally turned around to look at him. "And who put you in charge of our schedule?"

"The Wraith."

John didn't regret saying it, even if it made Rodney wince. He half-expected the man to say something cruel and sharp in return, but Rodney just handed the piece of tubing back to his assistant and began walking to the 'gate. John followed behind, radioing Ford to let him know that he and McKay were leaving.

•••

Rodney fished a chocolate-peanut butter power bar out of his desk and booted up his computer. He was slightly annoyed at Major Sheppard, but he was also grateful to be off that planet and away from all those people. Finishing up the plans he'd started yesterday was going to be difficult work, and he couldn't do it when a dozen people were clamoring for his attention. The Major had given him a free out by dragging him away before he lost his temper--again--and further alienated his staff. He didn't have much room there anyway, not after spending so many uninterrupted months on Atlantis. It wasn't as though he wanted them to like him, but his job was made all the more difficult when he had to constantly battle his staff over petty control issues and whether Kavanagh was being respected for his input. This way, Rodney could finish up without being distracted and the Major would take the heat for removing him from the worksite.

The plans themselves were almost finished; what was left was the detail work that always left Rodney with a lot less hair on his scalp by the time it was finished. Drawing up schematics for generators based on the organic matrix was easy enough, but he was going to have to do a lot of testing and guessing in order to make those theoretical plans a reality. No one was exactly sure what the makeup of the matrix was supposed to be, as they only had contaminated samples to work from. They also weren't exactly sure what needed to go into the fuel, other than water, and they also weren't entirely sure what the current output would be, only that it was substantial.

He already had some staff working on those questions; once the chemists were back from the planet he was going to have them produce samples of the various versions of the matrix they'd devised. Meanwhile, he was going to rig up some makeshift generators--just to see what kind of output they could get. His preliminary calculations were promising, but he needed more proof.

Rodney was completely immersed in calculating parameters for his generator design when his staff returned to the city. A voice belonging to Dr. Zelenka buzzed in his ear, but Rodney only paused long enough to mutter something about prototypes and testing and handed off a set of schematics to the man. He also said something about the organic matrix, but that elicited a sharp negative and Rodney ignored it for the time being.

An hour later, he looked up from his computer screen. "Why won't you get the matrix tests started?" He asked Radek, who was trying to explain Rodney's drawings to Kavanagh.

Radek scowled. "You are asking me to ask Dr. Beckett to borrow expensive, irreplaceable medical equipment in order to create a product we don't really understand--a process that might damage or destroy that equipment."

"Yes," Rodney agreed. "And the problem is?"

"You do it," Radek said firmly. "Dr. Beckett takes care of me when I am ill." Kavanagh snickered, which made Rodney want to reach over and thwack him on the head--if not for the fact that it would require actually touching Kavanagh.

"Fine," Rodney said, rolling his eyes at cowardly scientists. He closed his laptop and went in search of the chemists, who were supposed to have narrowed their ideas for the organic matrix to five or fewer versions.

He found them arguing with each other, pointing and gesturing at a computer screen. "Time's up," Rodney said sharply, making them jump nervously. "Jarlsen, come with me."

"Er...ok," Dr. Jarlsen said, grabbing his computer and grimacing at Rodney's departing form. Whispered encouragement followed him out of the lab as he trotted to catch up to his boss.

Carson saw Rodney enter the infirmary and automatically began looking for injuries. After a moment, he noticed a spindly young man behind Rodney. Neither man looked the least bit ill, although Dr. Jarlsen appeared more than a little frightened. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" He asked, eyeing Rodney and his companion.

Rodney smirked. "Those tests you ran on the organic matrix," He began, tapping his feet nervously. "Very informative."

"Yes," Carson replied cautiously.

Rodney looked around the infirmary. "We need to do some more tests," He continued, waving a hand at Dr. Jarlsen. "On the matrix."

"I see," Carson murmured. "And you want me to--

"Make up some samples of the matrix," Rodney interjected. "Actually, let us make up the samples. We know what needs to go into it, but our equipment isn't built for the job. Yours is, so we need to use it."

Carson blinked, hoping his jaw wasn't dropping. "You want to use my equipment to make sparkly goo?"

"Yes."

It crossed Carson's mind that Rodney was possessed of extraordinary amounts of of what Dr. Weir might charitably call chutzpah. "Do you have any idea what that stuff could do to my equipment?"

"Do you have any idea what the Wraith will do to us if we don't find a way to get the shield working?" Rodney countered.

Carson was beginning to hate the Wraith. No, that wasn't right, because he already hated the Wraith with the fiery passion most doctors reserved for actively evil, people-killing entities that took pleasure in torturing their friends. What he was just now starting to hate was the use of the Wraith and the constant threat of their arrival to get him to do things. Carson hated being coerced, especially by people he honestly liked, and even when it was for an ostensibly good reason. Instead of saying any of that, however, he just sighed. "Do I really have a choice?"

"No," Rodney said, shrugging slightly. "He's got all the information," He added, pointing to Dr. Jarlsen. Rodney walked out of the infirmary with nary a backward glance.

"So..." Carson began, feeling somewhat used, "Exactly what is it we're making here?"

•••

"And the mad scientist emerges from his lair, in search of fresh brains," John murmured as Rodney exited his lab. Rodney paused in mid-yawn to glare at the Major.

"I prefer 'evil genius' to 'mad scientist', and I'm in search of something a little more pedestrian than brains--an MRE would satisfy me nicely, thank you," Rodney replied. John fell into step next to the man as he headed to the mess hall.

"How's it going?" John asked, not quite managing his best casual voice.

Rodney considered being bitchy and rude, but thought better of it. John hadn't actually done anything to deserve it, and since John did things to deserve such treatment on a regular basis, Rodney figured he should reserve his snark for those moments and be somewhat civil on the odd times when John was as well. "Better than I'd hoped for, but not as well as I'd like," He admitted quietly. "We're well into building the actual generators and getting a final version of the matrix constructed and none of us are completely sure if it's going to work or not."

John winced at Rodney's honesty, even if it was presented less caustically than usual. "Yeah, that's a little frustrating."

Rodney nodded slowly. "I think I know how those first scientists working on the bomb felt. It's exciting, to be this close to a new technology's implementation, but if it doesn't work out, the ramifications..." His voice faded, out of exhaustion as well as simple fear.

"This isn't the same," John cautioned, leading Rodney into the mess hall. "It's not like you're designing a weapon like the bomb. If this works, you're saving lives, not creating a brand new moral dilemma."

Rodney smiled weakly and let John pick up an MRE from the meager selection laid out. While it was heating, Rodney slumped down in a chair and drank the water John procured for him. Despite the city's ‘round-the-clock schedule, there were hours so ungodly that few dared enter the mess hall, and it was one of those times now. Rodney sighed and was startled by how the soft noise echoed in the empty room.

"Here," John murmured, sliding a tray in front of Rodney. "Eat this. Then you're going to get some sleep."

Rodney tucked into his MRE and ignored the directive to rest. It was presumptive of John, but it was also true that he needed sleep badly--all of them did. The fact that Rodney didn't have the energy to spare arguing with John about ordering him around was further proof that he needed to do just that--sleep.

John watched Rodney eat, fascinated that the man could eat and very nearly sleep at the same time. It was a trick he'd only seen soldiers pull off before. Then again, Rodney was a lot more like a soldier than most people realized, even with the scientist's aversion to all things military. John saw Rodney's eyelids slide closed and stay that way and felt a quiet tug somewhere in his stomach. It was the kind of feeling that made him want to reach out and smooth down Rodney's slightly mussed hair, wrap gentle fingers around his wrists and lead him off to bed.

Of course, that implied that John wanted Rodney and nothing could be more absurd--except for the fact that John wanted Rodney. He wanted Rodney and that wasn't really a good thing because they were friends and John was military and Rodney was straight. John considered himself straight for the time being, since the military liked it when he was straight and he liked being in the military. It wouldn't have mattered if the military liked him as a flag-waving, pride sticker wearing drag queen, he wasn't going to take Rodney to bed. He didn't like Rodney enough for that. Or maybe he liked Rodney too much for it.

Besides, he and Rodney argued too much and Rodney couldn't stand so many things about John. They bickered and fought and if they'd been in elementary school they'd have been pushing each other down into dusty playground dirt and calling each other sissies and dorks and dickwads and bitches. They'd have played catch, only John would've thrown the ball way faster than Rodney could run for it, and Rodney would've slowly backed John up until he was catching in a tangle of poison ivy. They'd have cheated each other at Monopoly and tortured girls together and hated each other ten times a week and fuck, Rodney was his best friend.

John felt like an idiot for not realizing that. Rodney was his best friend--the guy who didn't put up with his shit but put up with him anyway. All of a sudden, John felt very bad for treating Rodney the way he did sometimes. Then again, their ugly little cycles of friend-antagonist-friend were part of their friendship. That probably meant something. John knew it did for him, but he wasn't going to think about it.

He certainly wasn't going to think about what it meant when he also wanted Rodney naked and sweaty and on his back. Still, John made himself promise to be nicer to Rodney, at least on occasion. John looked over at Rodney again and saw that the poor man had fallen dead asleep, leaned back on the wall. He still had a spoon balanced in one hand, poised over a now-empty tray.

John smiled wryly and reached over to wake him up. Maybe now he could convince Rodney to go to bed for a few hours.

"Wha?" Rodney murmured, blinking widely. "Er..."

"Bed," John said firmly, guiding Rodney up by one elbow. "As in, you are going to go to one, lay down, and sleep. I don't trust your brain when it hasn't had any rest in two days."

"Ok," Rodney said, obediently walking alongside John. "If I promise to go right to my room and go to bed, may I please go there without an escort?"

John smirked. "Are you going to go past go?"

Rodney mock-saluted with his free hand. "I will not pass go, and I will not collect two hundred dollars--U.S. or Canadian."

"Yeah, that exchange rate is a bitch," John agreed sagely. "Go on." Rodney waved back over his shoulder and slowly made his way along the hall. John watched him disappear, not turning away until the man was around a corner and out of sight.