Title: Where Did All the Physics Go?

Author: Amireal

Rating: There be sexin' at some point.

Summary: "But that's just not possible!"

Genre: Crossover of DOOOM

Blame: YOU! *points* ALL of you!

Archive: Wraithbait, Area 52 and my own site

Length: Approx 25,000 words in 4 parts.

Warnings: This should never have been written, ever. It's wrong and… evil and wrong. And they're digging me a special place in hell just for thinking of writing it.

Author's note: I really don't want to tell you what the crossover is because it sort of ruins the punch, if you really want to know, go here and I'll tell you. You find out pretty quick though, so if you're willing to bear with me, you won't be waiting long. Thanks to chopchica for the beta

***********************

"Everyone out! Out out out!" Rodney yelled.

The room smelled of ozone, burnt plastics, and other materials Rodney could name later when he wasn’t running for his life from the glowing, smoking Ancient device. Sheppard was right behind him, the last out of the blast range, making sure everyone else made it through.

Rodney stopped just long enough to grab Sheppard around the arm and pull, which was how, his legs already heavy from exhaustion, he managed to trip over the nearest heavy object.

He fell to his knees and his lungs compressed, leaving him out of breath. Something heavy hit his back and a grunt of pain sounded in his ear. Sheppard’s weight pushed him to the floor just as the first flash nearly blinded him.

They curled up, shading their eyes, huddled together as the flashes got brighter and faster. Rodney was sure there was the vaguest resembles to Japanese TV.

Eventually there was nothing but the light and Sheppard’s body next to his holding him down. The floor seemed to disappear for endless seconds until finally they landed.

His head spun and the thought of opening his eyes was nauseating, but Sheppard was dead weight on top of him and it was starting to get suffocating. Rodney pushed feebly, his arms giving way a few times before they worked correctly. Then suddenly the weight was gone and there were helpful hands under his arms, hauling him up into a sitting position.

A loud whirring sounded in front of his face and he cracked his eyes open, only to close them again as the beam of light pierced directly through his skull.

"That’s it, son, keep your eyes closed," Carson's gentle voice admonished, its cadence soothing.

"You’re fine, just kicked around a bit. I’m going to see to your friend."

"Colonel?" Rodney gasped, "Is he okay?"

"Give me a minute, and I’ll let you know."

Rodney realized that it wasn't actually Carson speaking to him - the voice was distinctly Southern. He opened his eyes slowly and looked around. Gray walls greeted him and he squinted, looking for the muted, rich colors of Atlantis, but there wasn’t a stained glass panel in sight.

Several people walked in and out of his sight line, tall people with lots of deep crimson… and gold highlights… and … no.

Rodney shook his head, headless of the disorientation and squinted again, pointing to the nearest one. "You, what’s your name?"

The man turned around and smiled the most easygoing smile Rodney had seen since Sheppard. "You can call me Jim."

Rodney shook his head again, whipping it from side to side and hoping the jarring would shake something loose and make the hallucination die a vicious death. "Oh no. No I can’t." His limbs scrambled out behind him as he backed away in some sort of demented crab crawl.

"McKay!"

He spun; taking about a half second to be grateful that Sheppard was okay enough to be annoyed with him. "This has to be some sort of big Ancient induced acid trip."

Sheppard’s eyes were wide and his skin pale. "I sure hope so, because otherwise this has just gone past the amount of weird crap I have to deal with in the course of a week."

Rodney nodded frantically. "You!" He pointed to the doctor examining Sheppard. "What’s your name?"

The doctor looked up and narrowed his eyes. "Are you always this polite to people who are trying to help you?"

Sheppard nodded. "For McKay that was downright congenial."

"Name!" Rodney ordered again, voice getting embarrassingly higher.

The doctor gave them a withering look and had just opened his mouth to answer when the wall-- no make that the door-- whooshed open and really, Rodney should be used to that from Atlantis. Still, the noise made him jump.

Both he and Sheppard looked at the newcomer, mouths agape.

The curly haired one-- Jim, turned his puzzled glance away from them and to the lanky newcomer. "Ah, Spock, any idea what happened?"

Rodney thought seriously about passing out.

"Rodney?" Sheppard’s voice sounded suspicious wobbly. "Tell me we’re hallucinating."

Carefully, Rodney got his feet under himself and stood, despite the protest of-- the doctor. "You got a tricorder on you?" he asked Spock, even though just thinking that made him a little woozy.

Spock raised a very well-groomed eyebrow, thought about it carefully, and then slowly handed over the small black box.

With shaking hands, Rodney accepted it and flipped it open. "Wow," he breathed. "Radek would be on the ceiling."

Sheppard appeared over his shoulder. "Hey, can it tell the difference between human life signs?"

Rodney nodded raptly.

"Cool," Sheppard agreed.

"You guys gonna need a room?"

They both looked up to see McCoy’s -- Rodney twitched a bit-- smiling face. "Ah, no." He stared at the tricorder some more. "Can I take this apart?" he asked hopefully.

For someone with no emotions, Spock certainly moved fast and decisively when it involved electronics.

"McKay." Sheppard slapped a hand on his shoulder. "Let’s not destroy the nice man’s toys."

Rodney didn't pout. Really.

"So, Bones, are they going die?" Jim-- who was he kidding -- Kirk asked.

"One day," McCoy groused.

Kirk smiled broadly. "Good. Now, would you gentlemen like to tell me who you are, and what you’re doing here?"

Rodney got the distinct feeling that this was not a name, rank and serial number sort-of situation. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, not sure where to start. "So, what do you know about alternate universes?"

He was actually kind of proud to have put that look on Kirk’s face.

*****

Rodney stepped into the briefing room and stopped abruptly, only to be shoved out of the way almost immediately as John slammed into him.

"Oof- Rodney!" John's annoyed grump came from behind him. "Try not to be a human stumbling block, okay? This is weird enough without wrestling with you again for the same piece of the floor."

Rodney threw a disgruntled look over his shoulder as he stumbled out of the way. "You're the pilot. Be more graceful."

A chuckle interrupted them both.

McCoy was laughing at them.

Rodney resumed staring, possibly with a dumbstruck look on his face, though if pressed, he'd never admit it. He could feel John fall into place beside him, and a quick check showed an equally stunned expression.

"You gentlemen going to sit down, or is that sort of thing not done in your universe?" McCoy was also smiling at them and Rodney was struck by the actual country doctor charisma he exuded.

"Um, yes, sitting, we can do that. Right, Colonel?" Rodney was already reaching for the nearest seat. Only after he sat down did he realize that Spock was directly across from him, being all stoic and Vulcan-like and utterly unnerving.

John chuckled. "I'm sure we're not compromising anything if we take a seat, Rodney." His smile was easy going, but Rodney recognized the slouch as his 'twitch wrong and you'll be eating lead' position. It was oddly comforting.

Kirk leaned forward a bit, looking less constipated than before and more amused. "So, do you have any idea how you got here?"

Taking a deep breath, Rodney tapped his fingers nervously on the table. "Well, if I limit myself to breaking the laws of physics that have been broken by my esteemed colleagues before me? There are three or four possibilities." He shrugged. "If I have to branch out, the possibilities are almost endless." A sour feeling started in the pit of his stomach. "And considering my karmic standing is in the negative numbers, I'm betting on the latter."

Spock raised a curious eyebrow. "You are a Buddhist?"

"What?" Rodney shook his head rapidly. "No. What does that have to do with-- never mind, I don't want to know." He waved an excited hand at one of the styluses littering the table. "Will that thing let me draw circuit diagrams? What about math? What's the computing power on it, will I need to use the ship's computer and what about--"

"Rodney!" John cut him off, sounding amused. "Breathe."

Reflexively, Rodney breathed. "Right." He scowled. "So, computer?"

Kirk nodded. "We can provide you with access for computations and planning, that's not a problem, and Mr. Spock can assist you with anything else you need." He looked at them curiously. "So, where are you from?"

Obviously more amused than was for his own good, John gestured at Rodney. "He's from Canada, somewhere around Toronto I think, I'm from San Francisco."

McCoy snorted. "How about when?"

"2005," Rodney answered, something percolating in the back of his brain. "Hey, can we get full exams while we're here?"

McCoy looked mildly disturbed that someone was volunteering. "I suppose."

"Rodney." John was also giving him an odd look. "Usually, if there's nothing wrong, which is about forty-five percent of the time, you stay as far away from Beckett as possible."

Rodney rolled his eyes and shook his impatiently. "Yeah, well, they're like three hundred years ahead of us. They can probably fix things we don't even know are wrong yet."

"Only you would be a precognitive hypochondriac." John looked incredulous.

"Yeah well, I kinda miss orange juice," Rodney grumped. "And as much as I enjoy food, I can live without needing it every five hours in order to survive. At the very least, being mocked by big, sloping brow-monkeys like yourself when I pass out from manly hunger is not the highlight of my incredibly medically troubled life."

John looked at him mildly for a few seconds before turning to McCoy. "They got psychiatrists here too?"

McCoy thumbed a finger at Kirk and Spock. "I'd be an alcoholic by now if we didn't."

Rodney and John both held back a snort of laughter along with the rest of the table, except of course for Spock, who just raised an eyebrow again.

"My God." Rodney looked on in horror. "That thing really does have moods." It  set them off into another round of near giggles, and left the rest of the table looking at them oddly.

Kirk cleared his throat. "That brings us to the other lurking issue." He looked at them questioningly. "You two seem to know us?"

Rodney abruptly stiffened, and then blushed like a loon. "Erm. Sort-of."

John nodded. "In theory."

"And that theory would be?" Kirk prompted.

Rodney looked at John pleadingly.

John looked back. "Nu uh. I'm not saying it."

"Well I'm not saying it." Rodney shook his head in panic. "If I hear myself saying that, I might have a psychological break of some sort, and then we'd be stuck in a universe where nothing in your lifetime would really be a surprise!"

"Well, you're not going to get me to say it, Rodney. Getting stuck in the real life version of Space Vampires from hell, let alone all the other crap I get to deal, with gives me a onetime exemption from insane explanations, which I'm going to cash in right now." John crossed his arms and looked stubborn. "Besides, as you're so fond of reminding me over and over, you're the genius, you figure out a way to say it without sounding like a flaming lunatic."

Rodney glared at him angrily before looking back at the rest of the table. "Okay, fine, but next time you need me to pull a technological miracle out of my ass in under twenty minutes, I won't be there. I'll be dead from humiliation."

"I'll get Zelenka to build me my nuclear bomb," John said smugly.

"He does shoddy work," Rodney argued on principle.

Spock raised that eyebrow again, tenting his fingers in front of him. "Nuclear bomb."

Suddenly remembering where he was, Rodney flushed bright again. "Ah right, not your thing. Don’t worry, it was perfectly justifiable. Really, they were trying to eat us."

"Of course," Kirk agreed, nodding slowly.

John winced and covered his contorted face, looking like he was torn between laughing and throwing up.

"What's the matter?" Rodney asked.

John waved his hand indistinctly. "Priceline flashback," he muttered.

Rodney choked back laughter. "Don't do that!"

Kirk furrowed his brow, starting to look worried. "Priceline?"

John, who had about almost composed himself, lost it again, burying his head in his arms. He muttered things about 'round trip tickets to Trek, shop and compare' and 'the one with the high heels'.

Rodney took a few deep breaths, clinging to composure by thin, fraying threads. "Right. Ignore him for now. He occasionally has psychotic breaks. It'll be better in a few minutes." He took another deep breath and pressed on. "The thing we really don't want to actually say because we're secretly afraid this is an elaborate Ancient prank and that someone is recording us, is that where we come from, you people are a popular TV show."

Kirk looked ready to give McCoy a silent signal to examine their heads. McCoy looked ready to receive said signal.

Spock just looked at them serenely, raised an eyebrow and said, "Fascinating."

Rodney gave up being stoic and quietly lost it.

******

Twenty minutes and a shot of Saurian Brandy later, they were both a lot calmer, aside from the near fit Rodney almost had at the sight of the uniquely shaped brandy bottle.

"I'm really sorry about that," John explained. "It's just very surreal."

Kirk nodded like he expected John to pull a knife on him at any moment. "I'm sure it is."

Rodney sighed deeply and wagged a finger at John. "If you breathe a word of the next five minutes to anyone, I'll see to it you never get hot water again. Even if that means stalking you back to Earth and sabotaging your apartment."

John raised his hands in surrender.

"Ok, so you're Captain James T. Kirk. Formerly an Admiral, born in Iowa, lied about your age on the academy application, cheated on the Kobayashi Maru, and fathered a son who had your hair and his mother's attitude and then had what I'm sure was the horrible experience of listening to him die." Rodney carefully ignored John's wide-eyed look. "By the way, I'd just like to say I've always admired you for that Kobayashi Maru thing."

Kirk paled, but nodded thoughtfully. "Not bad." He didn't look thoroughly convinced, but he didn't look happy either. At least he was getting there.

"You." Rodney pointed at McCoy. "You were married to a bitch who decided a hard working husband trying to make a career for himself just wasn't appealing. You've got a daughter you don't see enough, you're too brilliant for words and probably have more degrees accumulated than I do, you're consistently pining for the simple life but you know you'd probably get bored within a week." He paused thinking carefully. "And you once had the brilliant idea to hide a terminal illness from your captain and best friend." Rodney frowned a bit and added, "and your other best friend," pointing in Spock's direction.

McCoy had a faint pinkness to his cheeks, but he smiled warmly. "Well, I'd say that thing about my ex-wife might have been a small exaggeration, and that inflexible machine in the corner wouldn't know a friend if it bit him in the ass."

Beside him, John choked, but maintained calm.

"And you." Rodney turned to Spock. "Are a--" A hand on his shoulder startled him.

John smiled at him condescendingly. "Let me, Rodney. You're starting to sound a little hysterical and I'd rather avoid playing a game of 'insult the Vulcan' until later, when I'm not there. They're about three stops from locking us in some loony bin somewhere right now, and if we wait, the possibility of it being over physics is a lot higher."

Rodney clicked his mouth shut, irritated and very close to losing it again, so he nodded. "Go ahead. I'd just like to remind you that your diplomatic skills aren't exactly the envy of Atlantis."

Kirk picked up on the most interesting tidbit right away. "Atlantis?"

John gave Rodney a long-suffering look. "As opposed to your big mouth."

"Please, it's not like it's really classified here." Rodney crossed his arms and continued to glare.

Blinking mildly, John faced a curious Spock. "You are Spock, son of Sarek, son of Skonn, son of Sokar, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, all the way down to Surak. Your mom is a nice lady named Amanda Grayson, originally a teacher specializing in original translation algorithms." He leaned forward and rolled his neck, choosing the next bit of information carefully. "You got that thing with the multiples of seven," he went on, discretely. "And that number in the furs in Sarpedieon probably appreciated you more than you think."

"Hardly conclusive," Spock countered, unperturbed.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Saavik is half-Romulan," he said under his breath. "And had a thing for your tricorder when she was young."

Spock nodded slowly, obviously convinced - or at least well on his way.

Rodney was slack jawed. "You big fake," he said finally. "Seriously, I mean, I knew it with the MENSA thing, but this cinches it. You are so one of us."

"Am not." John frowned.

Rodney frowned back. "I hate to admit it just as much as you, because you bring that whole military mentality that I'd rather not deal with, but you do that in front of Zelenka and he'll wander around Atlantis chanting 'One of us, one of us' until you break down. Finally, you'll let him stick on the Spock ears he made in that lab he thinks I don't know about. Then he'll force you into one of the science blue shirts and attempt to glue down your hair."

John looked a bit piqued. "That's... disturbing."

"Yes," McCoy agreed. "Yes it is. Why would anyone make--" His mouth twisted, as if the words didn't want to come out. "Spock ears?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, John grimaced uncomfortably.. "Well, when we said TV show? That was a bit of an understatement." He bit his lip and slumped further into his seat, like a sixth grader talking about missed homework. "More like a nearly forty year obsession."

Rodney felt a migraine coming on. "Dear God, please don't talk about the fans."

John looked askance. "What do you take me for, an idiot?"

Rodney considered the question. There were so many ways to answer it.

A rush of air left John's mouth and his lip curled in sarcastic disgust. "Just forget it."

"Happily," Rodney agreed.

McCoy waved a finger at them. "You two are positively scary, you know that?"

Rodney nodded.

John crossed his arms. "I consider it a command style."

Kirk's grin was practically incandescent. "A perfectly valid one." He tilted his head, studying them curiously. "So, how much *do* you know about us?"

"Captain." Spock's voice held a warning tone. "Perhaps it is best if we do not ask."

"Ow," Rodney scowled. "The temporal implications just gave me a mini-stroke."

"Indeed," Spock agreed, already typing something into the pad in front of him.

Rodney twitched and muttered, "Okay, never going to get used to that." He turned abruptly to McCoy. "Is there such a thing as a mini-stroke?" He poked at his left arm. "Because I think I lost a little bit of sensation." Rolling up his sleeve, he pinched the skin of his forearm and nodded frantically. "Yes, yes, I sense a distinct lack of sensation!"

McCoy raised an eyebrow, obviously starting to doubt his sanity. "How many degrees did you say you had?"

"Not including the Bachelors? Four."

McCoy nodded. "And are they from *real* universities?"

"Of course they're from real-- is there some reason you're insulting me?" Rodney's voice had reached its upper registers, and he could see Spock holding back a wince. "You have some serious hospitality issues," he finished gloomily. "And if I lose the capacity to understand wormhole physics, Elizabeth is so blaming you." He glared pointedly at John.

John raised his hands, palms out. "Hey, hey! How is your hypochondria my fault?"

"Thinking about the numerous ways I might die or be incapacitated is far better than thinking about you doing something stupid, like flying a nuclear bomb into a hive ship."

John's eyebrows knitted together. "Are you still on about that?"

"Who did you think was going to have to pilot the next one, huh? Since after you, there was no one left who could operate the chair, thus letting us continue with Plan A, the ultimately saner and less incredibly stupid plan?" Rodney's cheeks felt flushed and his chest puffed for air when he was done. One look at John's wide eyes and pale face and he buried his own face in his hands. "I'm sorry. I think I might be a little--" He raised a hand in an expressive gesture "You know."

"On edge?" John asked quietly, though his tone held a little bit of ironic humor.

Rodney took a deep, calming breath. At least he pretended it was calming. "Yes, that." He looked up into the very startled eyes of the Enterprise officers. "It's been a long day."

"Hive ship?" Spock asked.

"Nuclear?" McCoy asked interrupting Rodney's thought process.

"Suicide mission." Kirk stated making Rodney's stomach clench.

Rodney saw John nod beside him. "It's been that sort of year."

Kirk nodded, a little taken aback. "I sensed that."

Spock leaned forward, fingers touching his lips. "However, since neither of you appear to be suffering from any sort of radiation sickness, nor are you significantly injured in any way that I can see, may I assume that whatever battle you went through was at least a limited success?"

Rodney's shoulders relaxed as he was reminded that yes, they had won and they'd won but good. "Yes. Limited."

Spock nodded.

John's eyes narrowed, and he stared at Spock for a few seconds before he retreated back into his chair with a mild "Huh."

******

Rodney, flanked by Spock, entered engineering. The tall column pulsing rhythmically in the center of the room made him pause.

"See." Rodney gestured at it. "Can someone explain to me how that works? Because from where I'm standing it's a glowing, throbbing rod and really-- has no one here read Freud?"

"That, laddie, is the heart and soul of the propulsion system," Scotty's rough brogue answered for him.

Rodney spun around, caught between a sense of awe at being in the presence of a Mecca of fake science, and sadness that news of the actor's death had arrived with the Daedalus. "So, what sort of technobabble are you going to throw at me to explain how that blister in the purity of science not only exists, but works?"

The hue of Scotty's cheeks darkened into a dangerous red before Spock stepped between them. "Mr. Scott, might I remind you that Dr. McKay hails from another universe, one in which our sciences might be... differently organized."

Scotty bit back a response. The determined look on his face didn't fade though, and Rodney could make out some indistinct muttering as they made their way to a station in the back.

"This is probably not where you will do any of your building. I've reserved one of the science labs for that," Spock began, already fiddling with some of the controls. "However, this will be a good place to display diagrams, do a large part of the calculations, and possibly serve as a forum for exchanging of ideas."

Scotty's face darkened at the suggestion, but he nodded, looking like he'd just swallowed a handful of nails.

Rodney was already inputting numbers and getting to know his computer. "Yes yes," he said distractedly. "Now leave me alone while I figure out how to go home without breaking the space-time continuum."

He barely noticed when they shared an amused look and left him to his math.

******

John leaned back in the chair with a quiet sigh. A rec room was a great idea. They had the supplies for one back on Atlantis, but nothing concrete had been put together yet. He made a mental note to look into it when they got back.

The view outside the window made him pause, as it always did when he had the time to be impressed.

"Is that a new sight for you?"

John looked up startled as Kirk down in beside him.

"The stars." Kirk gestured at the window. "You ever see them from this angle? You two weren't very forthcoming about your level of technology."

John lowered his head abashedly. "Yeah, sorry about that, we're just a little... freaked out at the moment." He turned back to the view. "And yes, I've had the chance before." His hand grazed the clear substance, feeling the coldness. "But I never thought I actually would."

"Pure luck?" Kirk asked, a knowing lilt to his voice.

John shrugged. "Earth in our time period is a lot like yours was. No one on has the technology to do much more than stumble around blind, deaf, and dumb, hoping we'll learn something before we kill ourselves, and we have to justify our expenditures to the public." His hand spread across the view like a spider, fingers spreading, as if reaching for something.

"And unofficially?"

"Atlantis," John whispered reverently. "A place that feels like home, in another galaxy." The cold on his hand made him shiver. The jumper was never cold like this, like the vastness of space was creeping up on them despite the safety of their ship. He shook his head. "Unofficially, there are aliens and wars and politics and we're just starting to catch up."

Kirk made a loud sniffing noise. "I smell massive political conspiracy."

John raised an eyebrow. "Funny, I always get that smell confused with shit. How do you tell the difference?"

Kirk shrugged. "More vultures."

A grin spread across John's face, and he turned deliberately from the window. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I'll bet you will." Kirk smiled casually, offering him a drink from a flask that appeared out of nowhere, along with some glasses.

John eyed the amber liquid. "You know, I forgot how often alcohol played a role on the show." He took the glass and swirled it experimentally, "I forgot that you were forged in the ideals of the Sixties."

Kirk obviously had no idea what to say to that. "Without wanting to sound like an alcoholic, I thought you looked like you needed it."

John saluted Kirk with the glass and took a careful sip. "As I said before, it's been a hell of a year."

Kirk drank with him. "I've had a few of those."

Trying not to choke on his drink, John nodded. "I might be familiar with some of them."

"Thought you might." Kirk's grin was hidden behind the rim of his glass. "Trouble is, at my age I have problems choosing only one year for comparison." He studied John from behind the glass and his eyes shadowed just a bit. "I think perhaps you and Spock should probably have a talk."

John found himself holding back words, things he shouldn't say, wouldn't if it were his own timeline. Instead, he nodded and let a companionable silence fall for a short time.

"Dr. McKay isn't going to get annoyed that you're not helping?" Kirk eventually asked. "He seems the type to take offense about whether you're there or not."

Smiling fondly, John looked at Kirk. "I've found that it's better to get out of Rodney's way until he's sure he can't do it."

"And then?"

John shrugged. "Then I smack him with something large and only occasionally metaphorical."

They shared quiet laughter, and John was struck by how right and how wrong the writers had gotten him. Kirk was charismatic, there was no denying that. The urge to spill his guts totally and completely still itched at the back of his throat. Kirk was also very smart; intelligent enough to make some mighty fine guesses, and compassionate enough to know when John just wasn't willing to talk about something.

What threw him was the vulnerability, his own ability to read Kirk; the fine lines about his eyes, and the grayness in the hair that seemed so much starker in person. This was a man who'd lived a long and dangerous career. This was also a man who still laughed. It was a sobering thought.

Kirk elbowed him gently in the side. "Best friends are some responsibility, huh?"

A hard, bitter lump appeared in his throat and John found himself taking a long pull from the glass in front of him, relishing the slight burn as it worked its way down, leaving an acidic feeling in his stomach. "Yeah," he rasped quietly. "At least yours eventually got past the socially retarded stage."

The loud coughing that came from Kirk wasn't really a surprise.

******

"Oh my God, you've just invented a new form of idiocy!"

"Now, laddie, there's no reason to be getting testy."

"Of course there is! Physics has just gotten up, danced on its ears, and taken up residence with a hobo! I can be as testy as I want!"

******

Kirk sat back down looking amused. "You sure security doesn't need to supervise?"

"He's all bark," John assured him. "I'd be more worried if there wasn't any yelling at all."

"If you say so." Kirk didn't sound reassured, but he didn't rescind his orders either.

John went back to the story about the two women with the jello shots.

******

"Overrated! I knew it! My entire childhood values system blown out of the water!"

"There is no need to become agitated, Dr. McKay, I was merely pointing out that--"

"You were wrong! Absolutely and utterly wrong! Go ahead, change your name to Mr. Can't Smell the Abysmally Wrong Physics That's Right in Front of His Face!"

"People have enough trouble with my name as it is, Dr. McKay."

******

Kirk watched as another red-shirt  skittered around the corner to join an increasing number of white faced young men, all looking like they'd just escaped a war zone.

"You know," he said conversationally. "If you could harness that power..."

John nodded and slumped back in his seat. The third glass had numbed most of his nerves, and he was pleasantly relaxed. "We've thought about it, but he'd never sit still for long enough."

They both watched someone in science blue run in with a data pad, show off the screen, collect some information, and then skitter out again.

"Bet he's entertaining," Kirk observed.

John nodded. "He is, when you know, there aren't bullets and energy beams and stuff being shot at us."

Kirk winked. "You're young. It'll start getting entertaining all the time."

******

"Oh that's it. We're screwed. Totally screwed."

"You haven't even looked at my suggestions."

"I'm depressed enough, thank you."

******

McCoy sat down across from them. "Room at the table for another lush?"

John had shifted so his feet were casually draped on the table. He waved magnanimously from his reclined position. "Who you calling lush, Doc?"

Gesturing at the half-empty bottle McCoy smiled. "The evidence is before my eyes, and even I can come to a logical conclusion now and then."

John squinted at the doctor carefully. "How do I know you're the right kind of lush?"

McCoy waved a hand at Kirk. "He'll vouch for me." He was already pouring himself a glass.

"Best lush this side of the galaxy," Kirk confirmed, raising a glass. "To command decisions and their fallout."

John raised his glass. "To classy women and lemon jello."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "To loose-lipped drunks."

They drank, and a nervous looking ensign appeared by their side. “Sir?” he said to John, and handed John a datapad.

"Anything wrong?" Kirk asked, suddenly sober and in focus

"Nah." John put the pad down. "It's just time for me to find my metaphor and smack McKay around with it."

******

Go on to Part 2?