.. back for more stories ..

Title: Taking Stock
Author name: Icarus
Author email: icarus_ancalion@yahoo.com
Category: Gen
Sub Category: Humor
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: John, Rodney
Summary: After Sumner's death, the new senior officer of Atlantis takes stock of weapons and, er, personnel.
DISCLAIMER: The characters and universe contained in this story are Copyright MGM, Showtime, Gekko, Double Secret. No infringement on their copyright is implied. Copyright 2006 All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced in whole or part without the author's explicit permission. Ask, guys. I'm easy to reach and usually quite generous.
Author notes: Written in appreciation for Wilderness Guru's military expertise.


Taking Stock
By Icarus

Sheppard narrowed his eyes at the AT-4s and said, "Whose bright idea was it to bring these?" He picked one up and examined the barrel.

Weir handed Peter a clipboard, and continued their inspection. Over a million rounds of bullets, just for the P-90s alone. At the time she'd thought it overkill on Sumner's part but didn't want to interfere. Now she only hoped it would be enough. "What's wrong with them?"

"Well, nothing, if you have a constant supply. But if you're cut off from Earth it seems you'd want weapons you can reload." Sheppard set it down with an aura of frustration. "These we fire once and we've gotta throw 'em away."

"You're kidding," Weir said. Suddenly their arsenal looked a little more flimsy.

"Yep. That's the good ol' American military wastefulness once again," Rodney sighed, trailing in their wake. He quickly brightened. "Although they did give us an Olympic grade ping-pong table at Area 51." He blinked at the room Peter and Sheppard's irritated faces. "What? They said institute a fitness program. It was either that or the pool, but we couldn't find a contractor with the proper security clearance."

"Your fitness program was ping-pong?" Sheppard said, looking Rodney up and down. "Why am I not surprised...."

"It was recreational," Rodney said, sucking in his gut.

"Look," and Sheppard's stance was all military as he turned to Weir. "There are going to have to be a lot of changes around here. I need everyone to qualify on at least a nine mil, if not both that and the P-90."

"All right," Weir nodded, slowly, thinking of the ramifications of scientists arming themselves. This is not what they came here to do.

Rodney squinted at him as if he were ignorant or insane. "I don't have time for that. This city is ten thousand years old -- we don't even know if the toilets flush. Have you any idea how much it's going to take to get this place up and running?"

"Trust me, you'll be a lot happier if, when people are shooting at you, you can shoot back," Sheppard smiled at him, all charm once again.

"Shooting? At me? You're not going to risk a mind of my calibre out there." He flapped his hand generally in the direction of the Stargate. "I'm far too valuable a resource."

Weir took a deep breath, but Rodney clearly read the truth of it in her face.

"Oh no."

"Unless you can teach other people how to recognize and properly handle a ZPM..." she offered. Rodney's crestfallen look told her how difficult that would be.

"And we need to institute a fitness program," Sheppard broke in, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "One that's not... ping-pong."

"What is this? China? We're going to do our joyous morning calisthenics before we ride our bikes to work for the good of The People's Republic of Atlantis?" He left in a huff, John smirking after him.

Weir cringed as she swallowed a laugh. "I'm not sure how rigid we can be, John. People are already under a lot of stress."

"I know. It's a good thought anyhow," he said. "I'd just rather people get in shape before they have to run from the Wraith. Not during."

His face suddenly froze in a strange smile. Major Sheppard glanced in the direction Rodney had left.

"What?" Weir almost laughed.

A look of sheer gleeful mischief sparkled in Sheppard's eyes.

"Just... no one tell him we didn't institute this policy, all right?" He gave her a sly lop-sided grin. "Let's see if we can run off a little of that puppy fat."

"I will disavow any and all knowledge of your activities, Major Sheppard," Weir said, with mock sterness.


With the eagerness of a kid let out to play, the Major jogged after Dr. McKay.


Or email Icarus with your review.

Your email (for reply): 

I appreciate any and all of your thoughts and comments on the stories (I work for feedback and the occasional chocolate bar). This will be sent directly to my email, and I generally do reply. Well. If you give me an email of course.