No Way To Spend Christmas
“I’m on it.” Rodney dismissed Sheppard with a flick of his wrist. “You, go shoot something.”
“That’s the problem, can’t shoot anything. Without power, we’re sitting ducks.” John looked out the window of the puddle jumper at the distant space gate hoping it remained inactive. The wraith had found a way to track them from gate to gate, and in the constant fire-fights, the jumper sustained heavy damage.
“Thank you, I’m acutely aware of that. The thruster controls have suffered a meltdown, and the right nacelle won’t retract. Sound familiar?”
“Alarmingly so.” John winced at the memory and rubbed at the side of his neck, “Worst case scenario?”
“The wraith come through the gate and blow us to smithereens. And if you don’t shut up and leave me to deal with this it will be the only scenario.”
Great, just great. John mused. I’m stuck in the forward section of a crippled puddle jumper on Christmas day with a grumpy and stressed McKay, and all we have to sustain us is a packet of fruitloops.
“Uh-oh” Rodney crawled out from underside control panel and sat back on his haunches, mouth set in a grimace.
“We’re in trouble.”
“You say that like it’s a revelation, Rodney.”
“Well, we’re in bigger trouble now.”
“The thruster controls aren’t our only problem. Environmental controls are fried and I can’t get them back online.”
“No, we’re fine there,” Rodney pointed to the open consol, “The Ancients had a real love of redundant systems so that’s one problem we wont need to worry about. It’s the temperature that’s the issue.”
John sighed and let out an involuntary shiver. “How cold are we talking here?”
“Deep space cold.”
“Oh, so… chilly then?”
“No, more like frozen. Think popsicle, icicle, frosty, frigid-,”
John held up a hand for silence. “I get it, McKay. What can we do about it?”
Rodney though over that for a few moments before a loud rumbling caused him to rub his stomach in sympathy. “Err, put up some tinsel and break open the fruitloops?”
To John it sounded like the only thing they could do… until the lights on the space gate lit up and spewed forth the wash of an incoming wormhole.
“Umm,” Rodney waved a hand at the viewscreen, “You don’t think that’s our rescue, do you?”
“I don’t think so.”