Artist: bmouse
Title: The Tardiest Explorer
Medium: digital painting
Pairing(s): none
Notes: totally G-rated! Extrapolation of alien flora and fauna.

Author: mandykaysfic
Title: Passing the Test
Wordcount: ~5,400
Rating: G
Pairing(s): n/a
Summary: Rodney must find a way to survive on his own until he can find the rest of his team.
Notes: Based on the artwork The Tardiest Explorer by bmouse. This is 100% genfic. Warnings: no warnings necessary. Credits: Usual disclaimers for a work of fanfiction using characters from Stargate: Atlantis apply. George Lucas' Ewoks get a mention, but they don't actually appear within.








This wasn't his bed. In fact, it wasn't any of the beds he'd slept in on Atlantis; none had been so hard or lumpy. With a groan, Rodney rolled onto his back. Wishing for a painkiller, or at the very least a coffee to ease his pounding head, he opened his eyes and squinted up to a bright cloudless sky. He twisted his head from side to side and groaned again when he couldn't see the others. He seemed to be alone. Unrestrained, which was a bonus. The blanket he was lying on wasn't his. It wasn't even one of the Athosian weaves; it was too soft and fluffy for starters.

“Sheppard. Ronon. Teyla.”

Nobody answered. Rodney felt for his radio. Gone, as was his tac vest. His side arm was also missing and he swore vehemently. His hand stole to his ankle. The emergency knife Ronon had pressed on him a month or so back remained safely strapped in place and he heaved a sigh of relief. He caught sight of his pack propped against a nearby tree trunk and scrambled to get it, feeling every twinge in his back as he did. It didn't take long to check the contents. The absence of his laptop didn't surprise him, but everything else, including the handheld scanner, seemed to be present.

The sun beat down on his unprotected head. Sunscreen was a priority and he muttered under his breath as he grabbed the first aid kit. With relief he noted the presence of two epipens and then slathered his exposed skin with his own special blend he'd substituted for the standard issue, before examining the parchment scroll he'd tossed aside in his hurry to check his pack. The large double circles in the center could only be the stargate. He puzzled over the crosses in the corners. The one in the lower right, or was it the upper left, was enclosed in a small single circle. There was no way to tell from the perfectly symmetrical diagram which way was up. To that, he was only assuming he was holding it the correct way. He guessed it had been left by their hosts.

They were on a trading mission with the Ewoks. They weren't actually Star Wars-type Ewoks, being almost naked humanoids rather than clothed teddy bears, but they were short, the tallest barely reaching five feet, and covered with a fine pelt rather than skin. With their round, dark eyes and flattened noses, along with the fact they called their planet Endoria, he and Sheppard had a hard time not referring to them in public as Ewoks.

The Ewoks - Endorians - believed integrity, instinct, intuition and a whole lot of words beinning with 'I' to be an important attributes in their trading partners. Rodney only paid attention at the mention of intelligence. They required their trading partners to prove that by solving a puzzle. Just one puzzle, they said. Requiring the use of logic, the powers of observation, the ability to think on many levels to find a solution. Perhaps the Colonel's people would discover new ways to use the familiar.

Rodney had actually rubbed his hands in glee, he recalled with a grimace. The sort of thing that was right up hiss alley. Sheppard's too, if it came to that. Witness his skill at chess, not to mention the math brain he kept carefully hidden beneath his hair. Teyla and Ronon would provide a Pegasus perspective. Muscle too, if needed. But no matter how badly things were broken, Rodney was confident he could fix them. They would have this one in the bag. The Ewoks had seen them coming.

Naturally, there was a toast to their success. Equally naturally, they were duped. Drugged to oblivion once again. Removed from their surroundings. Taken somewhere and dumped. And this was really somewhere else. Rodney's head had cleared enough to actually take in his surroundings. He became aware of the sweat trickling down his back. Shade. He needed shade before his brain fried, then he could concentrate on finding his way back to the stargate. He slowly turned in a circle, hoping for the kind of clues Ronon and Teyla would spot straight away.

“Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore. Probably not on Endor either.”

Endoria had looked pretty much like the majority of planets they visited: tall leafy trees that would not be out of place in a national park on Earth, grass in shades of green, rocks, wood and stone buildings just built on a slightly smaller scale. Different, sure, but normal looking. Here, the vegetation was unlike anything he'd ever seen; not even any movie he could recall came close. Without any sign of leaves, the blue-barked trees looked almost dead, but the native forest was obviously as alive as any he'd been in. He moved to stand in the widest sliver of shade he could find and surveyed the yellowish grass. It was uncanny to see it obviously thriving when its color was one he associated with dying lawns. The botanists would go crazy here he knew, and Rodney even forgot himself long enough to consider collecting a few samples.

A sound he presumed was made by a bird startled him from his reverie and he shook out the map once more. He had to find the others.

Four crosses, equidistant from the stargate – one for each of them. He roundly cursed the ones who drew maps without any indicators of distance and direction. There was no way to tell whether it would take an hour, a day or a week from his present position to reach the center, or whether it would be faster to try and find one of the others.

Preliminary scans confirmed he was the only humanoid within range. The energy readings were unfortunately not specific enough to determine whether they were produced by the stargate or something else. There was nothing to indicate which was the better direction. He recalled something Sheppard had mentioned and pulled a face. Rodney was no John Sheppard, making decisions based on the flip of a coin, even if he'd had one. He performed the scans again. A single spike, visible only for a fraction of a second, caught his eye. Then again, perhaps hanging out with Sheppard so much had rubbed off on him when he decided the direction of the spike was as good as any. It was easy enough to convince himself it was the best way to go in the absence of any other clear indicators.

It was difficult to eat only half of the power bar, but Rodney realized he needed to ration his supplies. He'd have to be careful with the water as well, until he could find another source. Dehydration was a distinct possibility. Two mouthfuls were enough to make him want more. He repacked everything except the scanner and the map. He considered the blanket. There was a good chance the nights would be cold, so Rodney rolled it up and attached it to the top of his pack with the length of lightweight nylon rope he'd taken to carrying after needing some on more than one of their missions. He squinted into the sky once more, but there was not even a wisp of cloud to break the endless blue that was really more aqua expanse. A pair of Sheppard's aviator sunglasses would have come in handy, or even a hat. Rodney gave himself a stern talking to and strode out in the direction of the anomalous energy spike. If indeed this was the test set by the Ewoks, then it wouldn't be through lack of effort on his part that they failed.

Several hours later, if he'd had the energy or a suitable companion, Rodney would have high-fived them. His choice of direction was vindicated by the building that had come into view. He estimated it would take him another forty minutes to reach it, and was suitably pleased with himself when he made it in thirty-five.

The door on the single stone building opened when Rodney turned the handle. He prudently tossed a handy rock through the doorway. Apparently, motion detectors hadn't been included as part of any defenses; neither had anything, it seemed. The coolness of the room was welcome; the dust, not so much. Rodney sneezed half a dozen times as he walked into the room. The window coverings were simple slats, easy to open. Afternoon light slanted through the gaps. There wasn't much to see. A couple of stone benches, situated on either side of a closed door, didn't look very comfortable. That was it. This door, however, didn't open so easily, but a little tinkering with the multi-tool stored in one of the side pockets of his pack took care of that.

“Way too easy,” muttered Rodney. “Where's the trap?”

The sound of his own voice was comforting, even if the topic of conversation involved a bunch of worst case scenarios based on previous experience.

Poison gas. Concussion by falling weights. Darts. Nets. A bomb.

He pushed the door slowly. His face lit up at the sight of what were clearly Ancient panels. He dropped his pack on the floor and hurried over to the closest one.

It didn't take long to determine only one of the consoles remained operative. Concentrating on that one, Rodney found it was a weather station. Unfortunately, a thirty degree segment of a planet was all he could see. For a few moments he watched a hurricane forming off the coast of a landmass. It was mildly interesting, but didn't help him with his current predicament, and he settled to seeing whether he could restore more of its function. When he did, it turned out his earlier supposition was correct – he wasn't on Endoria. He was on its moon, its forested moon; score one for Lucas, even if he didn't quite get the scenery correct!

Eventually, the hunger pangs grew too much for Rodney to ignore. He took the single MRE from his pack. It occurred to him he'd been rather remiss in not checking out the rest of the premises; that was his team's job. Considering the amount of time and energy he'd sent worrying about things that could go wrong, he figured he deserved a telling off and that he could save Sheppard the effort by doing it himself. It wasn't like he hadn't heard it all before, so he gave himself a sound berating. He packed the empty container back in his pack and took out a slim-bladed knife, another of Ronon's gifts, and one he'd been thankful to see still in the bag. He grabbed the flashlight as well. Night had fallen while he'd been busy.

A room off to the left turned out to be a bathroom, which reminded him of another of his body's pressing needs. The round holes with long drops seemed incongruous when compared with the technology in the other room, and the dank substance in the bottom looked decidedly unhygienic, but using them beat risking insect bites and unexpected allergic reactions to local flora, not to mention the possibility of being attacked by the fauna.

Another room held the frames of two beds and bare, dusty mattresses. Rodney gave one a cautious poke. A cloud of small insects, whose whines sounded suspiciously similar to mosquitoes, rose in a cloud. Sneezing until his eyes watered and his head ached, he hurried out; he wouldn't be sleeping in there.

The only other room was a tiny kitchen, empty of anything useful. By dint of removing a couple of crystals from the weather monitors and getting them correctly placed into one of the kitchen units, he managed to get water flowing. It ran clear after a couple of minutes. One cautious mouthful later, Rodney thankfully drank his fill. He could refill his water bottle before he left in the morning. He returned to the work room and shook out the blanket. There was little, if any, further information he could get from the damaged consoles, but he had determined the main thing he needed to know – the direction of the stargate.



“There's never a phaser around when you want one.” Rodney talked to himself as he splashed icy water on his face. “Could have heated water like that,” and he snapped his fingers. He'd woken early, thanks to the cold seeping into his bones. He tried not to think about coffee and scrambled eggs and muffins as he contemplated the two and a half power bars that remained. At least he'd scored all good flavors this time and he gave mental thanks to whoever had restocked his kit. He settled on the half bar and hoped there would be something he could eat off the land he didn't have to actually kill. He reckoned it would take as many as four whole days to reach the stargate, allowing for the one he had to back track as the weather station had turned out to be almost completely in the opposite direction from his starting point. He wondered how the others were faring, particularly Sheppard, whose bad sense of direction on the ground was notorious. He and Sheppard were also at the greatest disadvantage due to their reliance on technology.

Rodney couldn't resist tinkering with the consoles one more time. He longed for his laptop. There was an interface program he'd used successfully in a similar situation he was sure would allow him to restore partial communication with Endoria. It took the need for another bathroom break to make him realize he should get moving. He carefully replaced the covers on the consoles, but left the broken and burnt out crystals where he'd dropped them in the untidy heaps on the floor. He packed a dozen useful ones to take with him, just in case. If the Ewoks wanted their weather station fixed, they could come back here with proper equipment and in a jumper, although it could never be restored to its original condition.

He hadn't been able to determine anything about the weather conditions on the moon, but the sky was cloudless again and the shade just as lacking as the previous day. His pack dragged on his shoulders and he quickly adjusted the straps. That was another thing he'd learned by experience; poorly fitting packs chafed.

Scuffed footprints and broken vegetation were evidence of his previous passage. Rodney didn't know whether to be grateful or ashamed his path was so easy to track. He settled on grateful, as it gave him a clear path to follow and he figured anything likely to be hunting him would have already found him. He was reasonably certain none of the others would cross paths with him. As he plodded along, he cogitated on possible solutions for the often shoved aside due to more urgent matters project of building his own ZPM. Several hours of uninterrupted steady pacing actually proved quite conducive, and he stopped several times to scribble some ideas down on the back of the map. He also made a note to add a notepad or some paper to his pack in the event he found himself without access to his laptop. The paper-covered sterile dressings in the first-aid kit just didn't do the job.

Dusk didn't last very long and Rodney was pleased to recognize the clearing where he'd originally woken up before it was too dark to see clearly. He'd become fairly adept at putting up tents, but Ronon and Teyla had always taken care of the campfire. Now was not the time for regrets. There were rocks on the ground, enough to make the circle to keep the fire from getting out of control. And while the trees may have been lacking leaves, there were enough fallen branches to use as firewood, assuming it would burn, but he needed something smaller to start off with. He stared around, hoping for inspiration. The yellow grass wasn't dry enough, although he pulled up a fair quantity to dry out and use later. He noticed many of the trees sported orange growths. He figured them for some sort of fungus. He stretched out a hand, intent on picking some off for closer examination. At the last minute, he pulled back and retrieved one of his epipens. Feeling safer, he touched one with a cautious finger tip. It felt like cotton wool. When nothing happened, he pulled off a piece and examined it closely. Dry, rather than moist, it seemed to be composed of fine, interwoven threads. He was able to tease the tendrils apart with ease. It would do nicely as a fire starter.

His pack contained a single box of safety matches, stored safely inside a waterproof wrapping. He'd completely forgotten their existence back at the weather station and he cursed when he realized he could have had a fire the previous night. It would have been worth sleeping outside, and the ground would have been more comfortable than the stone floor. Pride bubbled up inside when he finally got the fire going. It would be a lot better if he had something to cook in it, like s'mores. Suddenly, he missed his team again. They weren't always in trouble on trading missions. Sometimes they had needed to camp out overnight. Teyla could be prevailed upon to sing or share Athosian folk tales. Ronon told epic Satedan fantasies. Even Sheppard was good for a horror story or two, or numerous verses of 'Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer'. The Athosian tea that Teyla brewed had a smoky quality Rodney found made it more palatable than when it was made in the clean conditions of the Mess. He could practically see the camp kettle suspended on tripod over low flames.

And then Rodney had a 'Eureka!' moment. He found some sturdy sticks and bound them into a neat tripod. He rummaged in his pack until he emerged triumphantly with a lone pack of instant coffee and his first aid pack. He dumped its contents onto the blanket he'd spread out close by. He murmured happily to himself as he balanced it carefully on the tripod. He recklessly added two-thirds of his remaining water and tipped in the powdered coffee. As he stirred it with a twig, he thanked Carson for replacing Rodney's plastic container with a metal one after the original one met with a nasty accident. He'd tell Carson not to worry about swapping it over when they returned. When he got the idea to heat up a power bar, Rodney could almost kid himself he was having a good time. Eventually, he got the fire damped down in the best Ronon-approved manner and wrapped himself in the blanket.



“Stop it, Cat!” Rodney brushed Cat's tail out of his face one more time. He wasn't ready to wake up properly yet and snuggled back into the warmth that ran along his back. It took a moment for that little fact to register with Rodney's waking consciousness that something wasn't right. Cat often curled up against his neck and shoulders during the night, but she wasn't big enough to warm his whole back. He purr had become a lot deeper as well. And while his bed was firm, it wasn't rock hard.

Rodney opened his eyes. Sky. Trees. Not his living room with his large screen TV. He’d been dreaming he was home again. When the tail flickered across his line of sight again, he sat up in a hurry. At the noise that was in no way feline, or even human, he scrambled back, reaching anxiously for his pack. His missed his sidearm, and while he wasn’t sure he could use Ronon’s knife to any effect, he wished he’d kept it close by while he slept.

The creature blinked long-lashed eyes at him and be damned if its expression didn’t look reproachful. It remained on its knees, tail waving back and forward. Rodney didn’t care how docile it looked. It had horns. He backed further away until he found himself against a tree. One spiky branch stuck into his back, intent on puncturing a kidney, he was sure. He edged slowly sideways, and then with his gaze locked firmly with whatever it was, he maneuvered to his feet. He felt a little better looking down on it, until in a surprising graceful fashion the, the, the thing also got up.

“Nice, er, nice horse-thing.” Rodney stammered a bit as he held up a placating hand. He barely came up to its shoulder. He froze in place as it ambled toward him. “You don’t want to eat me,” he urged. “Erm, you’re vegetarian, right?” He leaned down, pulled out a handful of grass and nervously held it out. The horse-thing showed a set of large, square teeth in a macabre grin before delicately nibbling the ends of Rodney’s offering. He nearly dropped the bundle in relief, contorting himself awkwardly to get another handful of grass while straining to keep the first at mouth height. Rodney picked grass until the horse-thing indicated it had sufficient by nuzzling into his neck with a rumbling purr.

“You’re pretty friendly for a wild thing,” said Rodney as he scratched at its neck. It had surprisingly soft, fluffy white coat and he changed to long strokes. He laughed out aloud when it purred even harder. Reluctantly he gave it a final slap on the shoulder. “I have to go now. My friends are waiting for me.” He pushed its head away. It pushed back and licked his cheek. “Eww. Oh, come on. I can't stay here.” He forced his way past and determinedly began to roll up his blanket.

It took several minutes to organize himself, his pack and make sure the fire was completely out. Ignoring the bright eyes that followed his every move turned to be quite difficult and Rodney had to bite his tongue more than once as he didn't want to encourage the animal any more by talking to it. He gave the area a final once over, checked the map one more time, even though it didn't tell him anything new and resolutely set out.

He concentrated hard on the scanner display, looking for anything that would indicate water. After sipping the two frugal mouthfuls he allowed himself this morning, he regretted his extravagance of the night before. He didn't turn around at the footsteps behind him, but a gentle butt between his shoulder blades forced him to turn around.

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “I can't stop you.” He gave the white fur another stroke. “Wait. Maybe you can solve one of my problems. You are going to need to drink, aren't you, so the odds are good you'll head towards water sooner or later. Come on then, let's keep going. We've got a lot of distance to cover.
“Oh, what now?” demanded Rodney in frustration. The horse-thing had collapsed to its knees and sounded like it was actually whining at him. Trust some neurotic animal to attach itself to him. “Very well, stay there then, just when you might have made yourself useful.” He turned abruptly and headed off again. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when it stood up and started following him again.

After the third time they went through the follow-stop-kneel routine in twenty minutes, Rodney lost his temper. He rounded on the animal as fluently as he would one of his minions.

“I tell you, this is positively the last time I'm stopping for you. I'll find my own water. So for the last time, if you're coming with me, get up. You look like a deformed camel down there. Not that you'd know what a camel is.”

He took two steps and turned back again. The horse-thing stayed kneeling. “Don't tell me, you're not actually wild.” He tilted his head as he considered the idea for a moment. Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes. “Could it be you're part of the Ewok's test?” The animal responded with a slow, single blink. “Very well, then.” Rodney dropped his pack on the ground and unfastened the blanket. He laid it carefully over the animal's back and waited to see what would happen. All he got in response was another slow blink. It was enough. He rummaged around and pulled out the nylon rope. When he held it out in the direction of the animal's mouth, he got a decidedly equine harrumph and head shake. “You'd probably eat it, anyway,” he muttered as he considered his options. He really needed a way to steer, not to mention brake. He figured pulling back would be a fairly standard indication to stop. “How about your horns?” It had no obvious dislike of Rodney's hands touching them, so he took the tacit assent for what it was and soon had the rope arranged to his satisfaction. All it remained to do was secure his back pack and climb on.

For someone who'd never ridden a horse, Rodney was thankful to get himself seated and the animal on its feet without himself falling off. Within less than a dozen steps, he was more than thankful for the padding offered by the blanket. It took quite a while for his up-down-up to become synchronized with the horse's down-up-down motion. He thought longingly of cars and puddlejumpers and Carson's best pain-killing liniment; the pain in his ass was killing him already.

They'd continued on some distance before he remembered to check his scanner and he groaned loudly when he saw how far off course they'd gone. He tugged on the left rope. Horse, as Rodney had taken to calling him, plodded on forward. He pulled a little harder. Horse came to a stop and turned to stare reproachfully at Rodney. Rodney waved the scanner in Horse's direction. “You've gone off course.” A tap on his back from Horse's tail distracted him and the animal took advantage of his loosened grip to continue on in its chosen direction.

“No! We need to go this way.” Rodney gave a hard yank and then found himself falling forwards when Horse came to a sudden standstill. He clutched at its neck and squeezed his thigh muscles as hard as he could, not wanting to fall and risk injury. He had visions of Horse galloping off, complete with Rodney's pack containing the first aid kit and leaving him behind on the ground with a broken leg. He stayed as he was for several minutes, eyes closed, face mashed into soft fur and holding tight as Horse ambled on once more.

It took the sounds of splashing water for Rodney to realize they'd come to a halt. Suddenly aware of his dry mouth and raging thirst, he sat up. Horse had stretched his neck and was lapping at the liquid filling odd, bowl-shaped protuberances that grew from the ends of tree. Unlike the other, now familiar trees that sported the orange thread balls, this solitary plant had grown in twists and curves rather than spikes. The brownish color and lumps which grew in such a manner that their placement seemed to form a pattern, were even attractive in an alien kind of way. Rodney hoped they held rainwater rather than some kind of dangerous exudation designed to attract potential food sources.

When Horse turned and gave him another slow blink, and then aligned himself so he could reach the plant bowls without any trouble, he gave a fatalistic shrug and dipped in his pinky. He waited a minute and when he didn't feel any burning or other sensation indicating a possible negative reaction, he sucked a few drops of the liquid into his mouth. Relief coursed through him as his brain cataloged it as pure, clean water. However, he prudently waited a bit longer before quenching his thirst and refilling his water bottle. He gave a wry snort when this time Horse stepped out in the direction of the stargate.



Two days later, Rodney heaved a sigh of relief when the stargate came into view. Ronon's shout of 'McKay' was the best thing he'd heard in ages. He dug his heels into Horse's side, but stubborn as ever, it continued the same steady pace it had kept to the whole time. It didn't matter; Ronon came running, followed by Teyla and Sheppard.

“Look at you,” said Sheppard. “I see you found a way to get out of walking,” and he smiled, thankful to see Rodney in one piece even as he petted Horse's neck a trifle enviously.

“I am pleased to see you, Rodney,” greeted Teyla, “and your friend also.”

“He's not as co-operative as he looks,” grumbled Rodney. “Has anyone got anything to eat on them? I've been forced to exist on some kind of weird moss that may possibly have hallucinogenic properties when consumed in large amounts, some rather doubtful mushrooms and not much else for the past two days.” He believed he was being perfectly honest with respect to the moss, although he acknowledged his hypoglycemia may have contributed to the dreams he'd had.

“Here.” Sheppard pulled a squashed power bar from his pocket at the same time Ronon and Teyla produced one each.

“Thanks, guys.” Rodney barely remembered his manners as he pulled off a wrapper and took a huge bite. “What about you? How is it you all still have food left?” he asked when his mouth was empty again. He remained on horse as the others walked them to the stargate.

“The area I traveled through had a heck of a lot of fruit trees. No mushrooms in sight,” said Sheppard.

“Ronon and I both managed to hunt game.”

“Bagged one of those.” Ronon indicated Horse.

“You can't have this one,” said Rodney firmly. He didn't take Ronon to task over killing a horse-thing. You did what you had to survive. He knew that.

“He won't, buddy, but you know, McKay, we've been searching for you. You're not coming from the direction you should have been.”

“Yeah, well, about that. You can blame Horse for insisting we take the long way round.” Horse had on several occasions insisted on taking a different direction to the one indicated on Rodney's scanner, and after the incident with the water, Rodney had been inclined to let him have his head. “Why didn't you contact the Ewoks?”

“Gate won't dial. We're still stuck here.” Sheppard didn't mention their missing equipment.

“Lucky for you, I have just the thing.” Rodney scrambled down from Horse, and forgetting his stiff back and aching legs, drew out the undamaged crystals he'd salvaged from the weather station. It only took ten minutes to fix the problem. In the mean time, Teyla and Ronon packed up their remaining gear from the camp site they'd established earlier. It had only taken Ronon a day and a night to find his way to the stargate. Teyla had joined him several hours later and John the following evening.

Rodney was rather sorry Horse did not insist on coming through the stargate with them. It stood some distance away and waved its tail in their direction.

Back on Endoria, the locals accepted Rodney's offer to return to fix the weather station to the best of his ability. Eventually he could restrain himself no longer. “What was the test? The puzzle we had to solve?”

“Our people were once a great people, until the Wraith came. Seven alone did survive the massive culling and destruction of everything we held dear. Separated, each had to travel without so much as a direction indicator to guide them, until they were reunited and set about rebuilding our world. You have proved yourselves to be like those of our ancestors and we deem it an honor to trade with you.”

Rodney was still blustering about the practice of potentially killing of one's trading partners by sending them on death quests as they returned to Atlantis.