by Jo Graham
“Zelenka’s going to make you pay for that jumper if you wreck it,” John said.
“He’s not the one out here getting shot at! I’d like to see him do better.”
The Asgard ship pulled up sharply, its shields bumping the jumper’s own ventral shields, making the jumper rattle and kick. He held it on course grimly.
“No, you don’t,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere with our people.” He edged the jumper down, their shields shuddering and protesting as they met, and the Asgard ship veered slightly downwards. It was like a game of bumper cars, with the added entertainment of knowing that if he pushed too far and either shield failed, he’d smash the jumper against the Asgard ship’s hull.
The Asgard ship rolled to port, and he started to follow its turn, and then had to veer away to avoid colliding with Rodney’s jumper.
“Jumper two, adjust your course!”
“I copy, but where do you expect me to go?”
“Follow its turn!”
“Excuse me for not wanting to fly upside down!”
The Asgard pilot had no such reservations, and had rolled his ship entirely over. It edged under John’s jumper, which blared a warning that he was fixed in the Asgard ship’s ventral sights.
“Crap,” John said, and rolled the jumper hard to starboard, but not in time. The Asgard ship’s ion cannons battered against his shields, and the jumper’s alarms began shrieking. Shields at 25%. Shields at 10%. Shields at 5%. “McKay! Get them off me!”
The other jumper veered sharply into the path of the Asgard ship, which pulled up close enough to a collision that Rodney’s jumper must have been shrieking its own protest. John had problems of his own.
“I’ve got damage to main propulsion,” he said. The jumper was handling less like a sleek bird of prey and more like the non-aerodynamic brick that it actually was. With an effort he could keep it flying in a straight line, but he was losing altitude. “Jumper two, you’re on your own.”
“You’re kidding me,” Rodney said.
“Don’t let them get away with Elizabeth.”
Rodney’s voice over the radio was grim. “Damn right I won’t.”
Rodney pushed the jumper for more speed. “So now I’m a fighter pilot,” he muttered. “That’s just great. This is what we have the Air Force for
—”
He broke off as the Asgard ship began climbing steeply again. He maneuvered trying to get above it, but couldn’t do better than staying on its tail.
“You’re letting them gain too much altitude,” John warned over the comm system.
“Yes, because what I really need is back-seat driving,” he snapped.
“If you let them clear the atmosphere
—”
“Then they’ll jump to hyperspace and we’ll be screwed. I know.”
The Asgard ship was still climbing, the overarching sky turning from bright blue to an ominously darker indigo.
“Unknown vessel, respond,” John said. “Damn it, respond!”
“I’m firing drones,” Rodney said.
“Blowing up their ship would be bad.”
“So would letting it get away.” Rodney concentrated, and two drones spun away from the jumper, diving toward the Asgard ship. They smashed against its stern shields, and the ship rocked visibly. Something within it began pouring out smoke.
“Good,” John said. “Now get your jumper above it and ride it down.”
“I’m working on it,” Rodney said tightly. The Asgard ship was losing altitude again, although it was still moving fast. The gate was a long way behind them. But that didn’t actually matter, because they couldn’t get reinforcements from Atlantis because some incompetent idiot had introduced horrible plastic-eating microorganisms, which he couldn’t actually do anything about because he was stuck playing Top Gun.
“Jumper two, what’s your status?”
“The Asgard ship is losing altitude,” Rodney said. “At least, it was.”
“What do you mean, was?”
The ship’s course was leveling out, and there was no more smoke streaming from its stern. “I think they’re making repairs.”
“Stay on them! Don’t give them time to make repairs!”
“Again with the backseat driving!” Rodney dived on the Asgard ship in what he hoped was an appropriately menacing fashion. The jumper’s proximity alarms screamed warnings, but he ignored them, bringing the jumper low enough that its shields were skipping off the surface of the Asgard ship’s shields like a stone off water.
The Asgard ship kicked upward, and he had to veer upward himself to avoid a collision. It began climbing again away from the patchwork of woods and farmland below them, nose up. Whatever damage he’d done wasn’t enough to force it down.
“Come on, damn it!” He was falling behind, and the ship’s sensors blared an alarm; he was fixed in the Asgard ship’s rear sights. “No, no, no… ” He forced the jumper into an improbable series of rolling turns, weaving to avoid letting them lock their weapons onto the jumper as a target. “This is not good!”
“Jumper two, report!”
“I can either fly or talk!” Rodney snapped.
“Damn it, McKay!”
The Asgard ship was ascending more sharply, making no more effort to fire on him, but leaving him behind as it climbed high above the rolling hills beneath them. Any minute now it would be out of range of even drones.
He knew now how the rest of his team must have felt as the Dart had swept him up. He’d been taken by the Wraith, and his friends had moved heaven and Earth to get him back, and he wasn’t about to let Ronon and Elizabeth slip through his fingers now.
The computer reminded him that drones were ready to fire.
“Yes, yes, fire drones,” he said, sending the drones diving toward the Asgard craft. Two of them smashed into the rear shields, and he had the satisfaction of seeing it waver, some of their energy penetrating. The ship was trailing smoke again, whatever repairs its crew had made no longer holding together.
The next two drones struck home at the rear engines, and the starboard engine sputtered and died. The ship’s climb halted, and it began to lose altitude again. “See how you like that,” he said triumphantly. “Yes!”
In retrospect, he thought the next second, firing a third pair of drones might have been a mistake. They sought out the Asgard ship’s engines unerringly, and smashed into the port engine like a pair of bullets crashing into a plate glass window.
“No, no, no,” he moaned. The ship’s descent went from an easy glide to a precipitous dive. Ahead, rolling hills were turning into the rockier foothills of a looming mountain range. “No!”
“What?” John demanded over the radio. “Jumper two, what’s your status!”
“They’re going to crash,” Rodney said. There was nothing he could do but watch as the Asgard ship plummeted toward an unforgiving mountainside.
SGA-22 Unascended
THE ADVENTURES CONTINUE….