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for impavid
The first warning should have been that things were going well. Most of their more recent missions had been exceptionally dull in the way he generally prefers, where his job was mostly to act as window dressing for the diplomatic dream team of Teyla and Sheppard. No shooting, no explosions, no Wraith. It's a recipe for disaster: the afternoon breeze on MR4-662 is pleasant and balmy, they're already familiar with the locals, and Rodney has an evening of feasting to look forward to.
Passing through the stone and thatch huts that make up the village proper, he doesn't expect much when Teyla graciously accepts an invitation to visit the Eleezian's temple, though he makes the appropriate noises of interest when he's suddenly pulled out of his bored distraction with one of her sharp looks, then one of her sharper elbows.
That interest had become very real once they were inside. Looking past more recent additions of primitive local architecture, he finds obvious signs of Ancient influence, and when he digs out his data pad to check, there are even weak but unmistakable energy readings. Of the mind that it's usually better to ask for forgiveness than permission, Rodney had checked to make sure that their hosts were adequately distracted before edging closer to the orb and pedestal filling the center of the room, squinting to try and read the faint etchings, reaching out to spin it a little more --
"If you hadn't turned it on, they probably wouldn't have cared." Yes, he absolutely has the audacity to sound offended, because they had cared a lot when Sheppard had come sneaking up behind him, close enough to activate the projection by the sheer power of his stupid gene's presence; first filling the chamber with a blue hologram of the planet's surface and a stunned silence... and then chaos.
One side of him aches fiercely where he had been wrestled down to the ground by an overly enthusiastic guard, but he doesn't feel quite as bad a John looks. Unlike Rodney, he had clearly made more than a token objection to their arrests, and there's an itch of guilt nagging him as he watches the other man from his uncomfortable seat on the dirt floor.
"How's your jaw?"
Passing through the stone and thatch huts that make up the village proper, he doesn't expect much when Teyla graciously accepts an invitation to visit the Eleezian's temple, though he makes the appropriate noises of interest when he's suddenly pulled out of his bored distraction with one of her sharp looks, then one of her sharper elbows.
That interest had become very real once they were inside. Looking past more recent additions of primitive local architecture, he finds obvious signs of Ancient influence, and when he digs out his data pad to check, there are even weak but unmistakable energy readings. Of the mind that it's usually better to ask for forgiveness than permission, Rodney had checked to make sure that their hosts were adequately distracted before edging closer to the orb and pedestal filling the center of the room, squinting to try and read the faint etchings, reaching out to spin it a little more --
"If you hadn't turned it on, they probably wouldn't have cared." Yes, he absolutely has the audacity to sound offended, because they had cared a lot when Sheppard had come sneaking up behind him, close enough to activate the projection by the sheer power of his stupid gene's presence; first filling the chamber with a blue hologram of the planet's surface and a stunned silence... and then chaos.
One side of him aches fiercely where he had been wrestled down to the ground by an overly enthusiastic guard, but he doesn't feel quite as bad a John looks. Unlike Rodney, he had clearly made more than a token objection to their arrests, and there's an itch of guilt nagging him as he watches the other man from his uncomfortable seat on the dirt floor.
"How's your jaw?"