The Survival Course

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"A what?" McKay rolled his eyes incredulously the next day as he swung his lab stool around to face the smaller Czech engineer.

Zelenka was momentarily startled by the circles beneath the Canadian's eyes, but knew better than to mention it. It was an unspoken code in Science not to comment on another man's work hours; they might think you were jealous of their stamina. Instead he responded matter-of-fact, "A... survival course. Or contest. At least, that is what I have heard. It is what the meeting this afternoon is to be about."

The exhausted astrophysicist leaned forward on his stool intently, hands on knees. "And what, pray tell, is the point?"

"To prevent another Gaul," replied a hard voice from the doorway. Both scientists turned to see Major Sheppard leaning stiffly against the doorframe, arms crossed. A nasty bruise had blossomed on the side of his face where the Wraith had backhanded him, causing them both to pause.

For his part Sheppard took advantage of their momentary silence to critically examine McKay. Since they had returned from the planet near the satellite, Rodney had been driven like a man possessed, and looked like he hadn't slept in days. 'Maybe he hasn't...' the soldier suddenly thought. He knew the scientist hadn't been to bed the night before the mission (nervous) after working a full day (which for McKay was at least 18 hours). The trip itself had been 15 hours there, 4 or 5 on the ground, 15 hours back (he flew both ways). It had been 20 or so since they returned home, during which Sheppard had himself finally managed a good night's rest...that added up to 78 hours awake minimum. Sheppard's eyes narrowed considerably; Rodney's uncombed hair, rumpled shirt, dark caverns beneath his eyes, the fine tremor in his hands from caffeine toxicity; yep, all indications that the man had given up sleeping for the duration. Again. Softening his tone, the Major jerked his chin in Rodney's direction. "When did you last catch some shut-eye?" he asked roughly, moving into the room. He had to concentrate on keeping his movements fluid; he was still quite stiff from the pummelling he took back on the planet, and his arm ached despite, or perhaps because of, the thorough cleaning Beckett had given it.

McKay turned back to his computer as he replied in his characteristically higher 'I'm lying through my teeth' pitch, "Oh, last night."

"Uh-huh." 'For about 30 minutes,' John added mentally. Sheppard looked askance at Zelenka, who shrugged incrementally, eyebrows raised. Sheppard decided to drop it for the time being and let the scientist face his demons on his own terms. Still, he'd keep an eye on him, and the first sign that McKay needed outside help, he'd get it.

"Anyway, this exercise is meant to demonstrate the importance of training, both for military and non-military individuals. The idea is to have everyone on base team up randomly in groups of four, be dropped off with basic survival gear a day's hike from the Gate on PXZ-459, and make it back without assistance."

McKay turned back to face the pilot, exhausted eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Sounds too easy; what's the catch?"

Sheppard flashed his brilliant grin; he knew better than to try to put one over on Rodney. "For each exercise, there will also be a group of people pretending to be Wraith. Their job will be to intercept and eat as many of the team members as they can...figuratively, of course. Both groups will be armed with paintball guns; the 'Wraith' can get up again 1 minute after being shot while the 'Humans' have to remain stunned for five minutes." He smirked, "How's that for a catch?"

McKay had visibly paled during his description, then turned away with a dismissive air. "Well, I'm too busy to be playing stupid games. Forget it."

"Weir's making it mandatory for everyone on base, including herself. You think she's not busy? I'll be happy to tell her you said so."

McKay dropped his forehead to his hands. "No, no," he groaned in defeat. "Fine. I'll do it." He raised his eyes in a glare. "But I don't have to like it."