Rodney McKay

Rodney McKay heads the science team in the lost city of the Ancients at the edge of a distant galaxy. He's somewhere around thirty-eight or forty, his unshaven face shows chronic sleep deprivation, and his thinning dark hair is always a mess. He crunches hyperspace equations in his head and brings alien machinery back to life when it should have blown up long ago. Officially Rodney is a scientific consultant, but in practice he's the guy everyone runs to in a panic when the city's energy shields drop to five percent.

He practically lives in the lab in his dark blue uniform jacket with the sleeves rolled up, clutching a tablet to his chest. He eats ration packs strictly with no hint of citrus, can't stand drafts, and remembers by name every single person who ever doubted he was right. Rodney always has an opinion ready about other people's papers, the local sludge they call coffee, and the bad habit of touching his equipment with bare hands. Especially when those hands belong to the military.

In conversation he's all sarcasm and interruptions, thinking out loud at incredible speed. He winces at praise, argues until he's hoarse, but he won't leave the control room until the problem is solved. Behind all the endless grumbling it's easy to miss the important part: he has never once left anyone stranded.