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Dual Tracking

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You must maintain 22 millimeters of mercury blood pressure under 1 Gravity to get blood from your heart to your brain. For each additional Gravity it multiplies.
2x at 2G
3x at 3G
4x at 4G
5x at 5G

Side note: Work out exactly what the Ancients considered 1G and variance to Earth 1G.

If you are unfortunate enough to still be conscious at 5G you will very shortly lose consciousness. It is not uncommon to crack bones. There are ways around this on Earth, with air bladders and training and tension stuff that can push you up to 9Gs. Of course, as a Chezh scientist have none of that but what I do have is Ancient technology, a slightly modified jumper and what Major Sheppard would call ‘moxy’. I’m going to need all of it to get out of this mess.

You see, in normal circumstances I wouldn’t even be flying a Jumper. I wouldn’t even be off Atlantis but sometimes my brilliance is needed and McKay is. Well, McKay is McKay. He is a good scientist but I am a brilliant engineer. Between us we keep everyone alive which is why I am out here being chased by the Wraith. Alone.

Side note: Remember this is why you are not on an away team. Late at night be thankful for this. Perhaps schedule a pop up reminder at irregular intervals.

Okay, I exaggerate. I am not alone but Lieutenant Ford is definitely of the hit it as hard as you can and that will make it go faster school of thinking. Not unlike the young men I avoided so studiously growing up that definitely felt that painting a vehicle red was the way to go. With us we have Markham who is the only one with the Ancient Technology gene and therefore our pilot. Our extremely nervous and goes slower than my Nana on Sunday with a cart and buggy. Which brings us right back to the problem of the high Gs.

You see I have a theory that the Wraith in their Darts do not have any compensation systems for high speed turns. They haven’t needed them because the Wraith themselves are more able to withstand the gravitational forces than your standard Pegasus Galaxy human and we haven’t found any real space-faring groups beyond the Ancients yet. They literally haven’t had anyone to fight with in thousands of years.

Side note: Highly unlikely there isn’t anyone but with the Gate network it may well have superseded. See also: car v. Train. Could be a scarcity issue as most people met so far are a subsistence level which is stupid. Clearly need to talk to the social sciences.

Side note: Check on status of the still.

Here is the next problem. The Jumper is a flying toaster. A box. A hexagonal shape that pleases the engineer in me and makes the artist weep. Fortunately it doesn’t matter a damn bit in space what our shape is because it is negligible drag. The Darts are long and thin, much like every fighter plane and jet back on Earth.

Side note: Remember to research latest prototypes from crazy MIT students when we reconnect with Earth to see what their thinking is on jets that ignore gravity. See also: Lucasfilm. See also: Doug Chiang

What I need to do is get Markham who is not a pilot to believe me when I say we need to get back into the atmosphere where I can adjust the ability to take Gs or set an autopilot to get us through the Gate while making the Dart pilot pass out.

No problem. Really.


“Doc, what do we do?” Ford’s voice was getting more and more strident as the Dart closed in on them.

“Give me a moment. I am thinking!”

“We don’t have a moment. Markham, how far is the space Gate?”

“Uh…my ancient numbers aren’t too good yet but I’m betting that flashing red next to them doesn’t mean anything good.”

Radek pushed between the seats and squinted at the display. “No, no. Not good. We will fall short of time needed. Instead we need to turn around back to the planet.”

“What? No.” And “Why?” came from the military men simultaneously.

The scientist gripped his hair in both of his hands. “So much easier with Major Sheppard. He would know why I am saying things. Instead I have to explain everything so then we die. I will explain later, yes. Please. Trust me. Head toward the planet, as fast as we can go. Not like little putt-putt, yes?”

“Little putt-putt?” Ford repeated incredulously but Markham was already turning. At least there was one person on this little ship that had figured out that McKay wasn’t the only one with grand (stupid) plans.

“I make adjustment to the jumper’s crystals. We will be able to go very fast but you must turn like a corkscrew - only when we are in the atmosphere.” He was working while he was talking, not sparing a glance for what he was sure was more doubting looks. “You are probably old enough. You see Top Gun, yes? Tom Cruise being ridiculous?”

“Sure. It was my favorite movie when I was in middle school.” Markham chirped.

Muttered curses about age and being too old and something that sounded like the word shit drifted from the crystal banks. “Yes. So you remember when the friend dies, yes? Turbulence? We don’t want that. We want something like the flat spin, but controlled.”

“I’m no pilot, Doc. I just go in straight lines.”

“You are going to be dead molecules floating in spins, corkscrews and straight lines unless you do this. We all will be. So, when I tell you, you are going to start pulling the steering all the way to the left and keep it there.”

“Oh, like doughnuts in a parking lot!” Ford actually bounced in his seat a little bit. “That is fun.”

Radek glanced over his glasses. “Not at all but yes. Maybe. A little.” He paused. “Yes, decent analogy but think 3 dimensions, yes? Doughnuts while going downhill. In the air.”

Later - back at Atlantis

Elizabeth sat back in her chair and stared at the three men. Radek’s hair was frizzed even more than usual. Ford was grinning and he’d just finished a fist bump with Markham. “I think I need you to start over. What exactly does Tom Cruise have to do with this?”

John leaned his body in from the doorway. “Flat spin? Radek? Good choice. You watch a lot of World War 2 movies?”

Radek shrugged. “Snoopy actually. Sopwith Camel. Dogfights but them, they are too young. Instead I figured that the repressed homo-erotism bastion of modern Hollywood would work better. Time pressure.”

John just cackled and walked away with his hands in his pockets.