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The gateroom lights flashed, sirens and alarms screamed over each other, techs raced to fix the iris. All in all it was a pretty good show.
It was also pretty damned useless.
"Lorne! God damn it, where's my back up?!" John snarled into his radio.
He kneeled and emptied the last of his clip into the sponge-like swamp monster that shambled from the gate. He switched clips out while Ronon covered him. The rat-ta-tat-tat of automatic weapons fire made his ears ring, but so far only Ronon's gun had even slowed it down.
"It's like shooting pillows, sir!" Lorne complained, moving forward into the fight. It was his P-90 John had heard. Around him, marines spread out in a pincer formation, firing on the creature.
"Then put it full of so many holes it can't find its feathers!" John yelled, and proceeded to do just that. The creature loomed larger, twenty feet up, as John stood his ground.
Searing heat blazed, once, twice, over his shoulder and John flinched away from a blinding yellow flash. His uniform was soaked.
He blinked spots out of his eyes and looked down at bits of white foamy creature flesh and gore all down his chest and arms. Licked his lips and spluttered at the acrid taste of monster. The gateroom was finally silent. His first thought was, We fired a drone in the gateroom? But the explosion wasn't nearly big enough for that.
Certain the creature was thoroughly dead -- or at least in so many jiggling pieces it couldn't get up -- John glanced over his shoulder. Colonel Carter was standing on the steps, shouldering a Jaffa staff weapon. She slowly lowered it and then stood like Moses after parting the Red Sea. If Moses had looked perky and somewhat smug.
"We microwaved the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man?" John grinned as he stood. Next to him, Ronon lowered his gun. Next to John, Lorne was picking at the sticky white stuff on his uniform.
"Not exactly," Rodney said, appearing from behind Carter. "When it appeared Ronon's energy weapon was working but not powerful enough, I went for the bigger stick."
"I got the staff weapon, Rodney," Carter said.
"It was my idea!" Rodney insisted.
"I already had it in my hand," Carter pointed out.
"But--" Rodney began, mouth open in dismay. Then deflated. "True."
Next to John, Lorne was picking at the sticky white stuff on his sleeve. Teyla attempted to wipe the gooey mess from her gun, and was only succeeding in smearing it down the barrel. Rodney only had a little of it on his uniform but as for the rest of them... looked like they'd need new uniforms again. John sighed.
He voiced his next thought, looking around, "Okay, that was fun. But we need a clean-up crew in here, ASAP."
"Oh my God, it's all over the DHD," Rodney said, launching himself at the precious equipment. "I don't even let people eat in here!"
"At least it tastes like marshmallow," John said.
"Does not!" Rodney turned on him. "How could a creature of flesh and blood -- not to mention slime, muck, and whatever kind of lethal bacteria it dragged up from the deep -- possibly taste like marshmallow?"
"People taste like chicken," Ronon pointed out, getting into the teasing.
"I doubt you've even seen a chicken," Rodney said, sounding a little more doubtful.
"The Pegasus galaxy has chickens," Teyla assured him.
John turned his shoulder carefully and waited a beat, a smothered smile hovering at the corner of his lip.
Four... three... two... one....
Then heard Rodney's splutter of rage.
"It doesn't taste anything remotely like-- ugh! Yealch! You--!" Rodney pointed at a minion who was busy with the DHD, probably doing something important. "Get me a soda! Or anything, anything strong. Right now! I'm going to kill you, Sheppard!"
John burst out laughing.
"I'm going to bake some of this in a pie!" Rodney threatened, stabbing a finger in John's direction. "Just you wait!"
John took the can of soda from the minion who'd hurried in from the mess. He dangled it in front of Rodney, slouching over the DHD. "Are you a Pepsi or Coke man? I can send him back to get you the--"
Rodney snatched it from his hand. "Gimme that." He downed the contents with impressive speed, then dove back under the DHD. "You had better have a plan to make this up to me," Rodney's muffled voice came from underneath the panel.
Damn. Rodney had grown to know him too well.
After a moment's thought, John caved. "I might have real marshmallows in my quarters."
"With chocolate?" Rodney added, still pulling out and reattaching wires, an obvious hopeful note in his voice.
"I might even be able to scare up some graham crackers," John said, leaning over to watch.
"You are hereby forgiven. Pending receipt of toasty goodness, of course," Rodney declared. "Did you know I was the best marshmallow toaster in my family? Perfectly golden brown, all the way around," he bragged.
"Really?" John said, not even pretending to be interested. Rodney didn't care.
"Uh-huh. Never burned them." A hand waved under the DHD. "Everyone had me do theirs...."
"Well, toasty goodness, my quarters, 2200 sharp," John said to his team.
He turned to include Ronon and Teyla in this ... and instead found the gate crew, Colonel Carter, and a number of marines smiling at him in a way that looked indulgent. Or perhaps fond. Or any number of other expressions that had nothing to do with respect for their commanding officer -- and the guy who just faced down a scary monster, thank you very much -- and more like the way you'd look if two toddlers had just made up over snow cones.
John cleared his throat and tried to look stern. "And would someone please tell me how that..." he hand-waved over the splatter that currently lacked a noun, "Got into our gateroom?"