SGA-01

by Sally Malcolm

  She knew how they felt. “Major Sheppard…!”

  “We were attacked,” he said, as the gate shut down and the room plunged back into the semi-darkness of the ocean. “Sumner and some of his security team were taken—”

  Weir reeled at that. Sumner was gone? They’d been there less than a day! Forcing aside her distress, she said, “Who are all these people?”

  “Survivors from the settlement,” Sheppard explained. He looked exhausted, and pretty shaken. “It was wiped out—”

  “Major,” she said quietly, trying to keep her voice low, “we’re in no position to help anyone…”

  Another tremor rippled through the floor, setting the newcomers clutching at each other and whimpering in fear. Behind her, Weir could hear other noises too. Her people assembling as ordered.

  Sheppard noticed them too, his eyebrows rising. “What’s going on?”

  “We were about to abandon the city—”

  He shook his head. “Going back there’s a bad idea.”

  Her answer was cut off by the sudden blare of alarms as the quaking continued, intensifying every moment. “Major Sheppard, the shield is about to fail and the ocean is about to come crashing in on us!” she yelled over the sound of the alarms. “If you have a better place for us to go—”

  Sheppard turned suddenly to the kid, grabbing his arm. “Jinto, do you know the address of another place we can gate to?”

  “Yes,” the boy answered bravely. “Many.”

  Sheppard looked at her, head cocked, as the city began to shake itself apart. Well?

  “He’s just a boy!”

  The kid looked at her. “I am Jinto—”

  Not waiting for another answer, Sheppard yanked the boy into motion. “She’s pleased to meet you,” he said, hauling him toward the control room. “Follow me.”

  As the Major sprinted up the stairs with Jinto in tow, the lights flickered. Weir glanced up, just in time to see them sputter and fail. All that was left was the blue light of the ocean and the sounds of creeping panic from the new arrivals. Her own people, Weir noted with bleak satisfaction, remained steadfast and calm. She’d chosen them well, and she’d be damned if she let them die here.

  At a flat run, she too headed for the control room.

  In horrified fascination Rodney McKay stared at the monitor displaying the shield status. All areas were flashing red now. It was over. “The shield is collapsing!” he yelled over the rumbling and shaking of the dying city. “The shield is collapsing!” And he was going to die with it. He was going to drown in an alien city in another galaxy, and no one would know. He wished he’d called his sister. He should have called her…

  Suddenly a massive jolt shuddered through the entire city, throwing personnel and equipment to the floor. People were screaming, the gate itself flickering and dying. The noise was incredible, the shaking so intense McKay could feel the fillings rattle in his teeth.

  I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!

  He was clinging to the console for support as the floor bucked and twisted beneath his feet. So frightened he could hardly breathe, he was unable even to screw his eyes shut and blot it all out. Which was why he suddenly noticed the monitor going crazy. The shield was still failing, but something else was happening too. Something else was happening all over the damn city!

  Self-preservation finally besting sheer panic, he hauled himself upright and staggered over to the DHD. “I’m dialing an address!” he announced. Any damn address. He refused to die here. He refused to drown like a rat in a goddamn trap!

  “No, wait!” Weir stumbled into the control room. He stopped, hand poised over the first symbol. “Dialing out now will just use the last of the remaining power,” she yelled over the noise. “This whole section will flood before we can make it out!”

  “Staying is not an option!” he yelled back.

  She grabbed his arm, her fingers cold on his wrist. “Something’s happening, can’t you feel it?”

  Actually, no. Aside from the brain-rattling tremors and the rumbling and the—

  “We’re moving.” It was Sheppard, struggling up the steps room with the kid.

  Moving? It was impossible! How could they be moving? Where the hell would they go?

  Sheppard staggered into the control room, and McKay spun around suddenly noticing a shift in the light. It was getting brighter. And the noise was changing timbre too. The rumbling had changed to a sound of… Rushing water, straining metal. Flooding? No, the sound wasn’t inside. It was outside.

  He could feel it now, his stomach was lurching like he was in an elevator. They were moving. They were rising! The entire city was rising!

  So astonished he could hardly process what he was seeing, McKay watched the ocean slip away from the windows. It was replaced by waterfalls cascading from roofs and spires as brilliant, glorious daylight streamed through the water and refracted into rainbows that sparkled across the room. It was a miracle, a bona fide miracle…

  I’m not going to die. The thought hit him so hard he actually gasped and felt his knees turn weak with relief. I’m not going to die!

  Sheppard ran to the nearest window, beaming like a kid as he stared out. Weir followed more slowly to stand at his side and gaze around her in obvious awe. Finally McKay joined them, his legs still shaky.

  “We’re on the surface,” Weir breathed, almost as if she barely dared to believe it.

  Sheppard’s grin grew wider. “That we are,” he agreed, glancing at McKay. “How did you know?”

  If only he had… “I didn’t.”

  Weir laughed softly. “I was hoping for another day, and it looks like we just got more than that.” She smiled, somehow managing to convey her elation and determination in one look. “Let’s not waste it.”

  When she tried, Dr. Weir could really be quite inspiring.

  Chapter Seven

  After the euphoria of escaping a certain and horrible death had faded, the truth began to sink in. Atlantis, the greatest city of the Ancients, was on the surface. Last time it had been on the surface it had been besieged by the Wraith – and having seen these guys up close and personal, John Sheppard could well imagine how much fun that had been. The only way the Ancients had been able to save Atlantis was to sink it. Now his team had brought the city back to the surface with nothing more than a handful of men and a few P90s to defend it. You didn’t have to be a master tactician to understand the implications, and Sheppard’s delight at their escape was swiftly turning to fear that it was merely a reprieve.

  The control room was already flooded, so to speak, with geeks poring over the computers, looking for answers, while McKay – chief geek – was lecturing the rest of them about their situation. As if they didn’t already know…

  “The last Zero Point Module is depleted,” he said, pacing and frowning, “but limited power has returned now that our own generators aren’t trying to hold back an ocean. Life support systems are working, although the planet’s atmosphere is breathable, notwithstanding the inevitable allergens.”

  Notwithstanding? Who used words like that…?

  “Can our generators supply enough power to the shield for defensive purposes?” Weir asked, getting straight to the point. Sheppard liked that about her.

  “Not even close,” McKay replied, arms folded. They guy almost looked smug, as if he’d managed to prove that the world really was out to get him.

  “On the surface without that shield, we’re target practice,” Sheppard noted.

  “I’m acutely aware of that, Major. Thank you for reinforcing it.”

  Sarcasm. Nice. What did they call it, the lowest form of wit? Ignoring McKay’s barb, he said, “When can you tell me where the Wraith took Colonel Sumner and the others?” He didn’t mention Teyla by name, but it was the thought of her being swept up by the ice-white beam of light that was burned into his mind. He hated leaving people behind.

  McKay made a show of condescending patience. “Even with the six symbols Lie
utenant Ford provided, there are still hundreds of permutations—”

  “Seven hundred and twenty,” Sheppard told him. Who did the guy think he was dealing with? The paper boy?

  McKay raised an eyebrow, impressed and clearly unwilling to show it. “I knew that, of course,” he retorted. “I’m just surprised you do.”

  The smug son of a— “Take away the coordinates you can’t get a lock on. That’ll leave you with the right one.” Sheppard made it into an order. “When you find it, send a MALP.” Time McKay began to appreciate who was in charge around here.

  To Sheppard’s surprise the scientist didn’t protest as he headed over to the DHD. He took that as a sign of progress…

  “Major…? A word.” It was Weir, and when he looked over at her he realized that her attention was fixed on the milling refugees from Teyla’s village. After a moment she nodded to Ford. “Lieutenant, let’s get those people settled somewhere else for the time being.”

  Ford snapped to attention; the kid was a bag of energy, even after all they’d been through. “Where would you like them, ma’am?”

  She smiled. “Somewhere else. Thank you.”

  Her gaze slid back to Sheppard, and she inclined her head, inviting him to join her. But then she paused for a moment, glancing around – presumably looking for somewhere private to talk – before settling on a large glass door. “Come with me,” she said, pushing the door open and leading him out onto a wide balcony.

  The cool breeze and tang of salt air hit him instantly, scrubbing away his fatigue. He’d always loved the ocean, which, given their current situation, was amusing in an ironic kind of way. They walked in silence to the railing surrounding the balcony and gazed out across a sparkling ocean, blue as the sky above. There was no land in any direction, nothing but an endless azure sea. Briefly he wondered what would happen if a storm hit the city. He’d never been a good sailor…

  At his side Weir lifted her face to the sun and closed her eyes, breathing out a sigh. He watched her for a moment, and then said, “Let me guess, you’re not going to let me try to rescue our people…”

  Her eyes opened, and the smile evaporated. “Major…” She looked at him, genuinely uncertain. “You don’t even know if they’re alive.”

  Irrelevant, and she knew it. “You don’t leave people in the hands of the enemy,” he snapped. “The fact that you’re having this conversation in private says to me you know damn well it’s not only wrong but would totally undermine your leadership. As ranking military officer, I—”

  “Shut up and listen to me for a moment!”

  Her outburst knocked him off track. Shut up?

  “What do we know about the Wraith?” she asked. “One of the few things we do know is that they were the enemy that defeated the Ancients. An enemy worthy of our respect, wouldn’t you agree?”

  He would agree, but didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of hearing it. He settled for a glare instead.

  “When we first began to use the Stargate we found on Earth, we got ourselves into serious trouble. Why?”

  “Look, I don’t need a history lesson—”

  “Because the people in charge didn’t consider the ramifications before they reacted—”

  “They’ve taken our people!” he objected. “How the hell am I supposed to react?”

  “We’re defenseless, Major,” Weir pressed, “you said so yourself. How do you know that going off on a half-assed rescue mission won’t bring them right back here to our doorstep?”

  Half-assed? Who the hell did she think he was? “Maybe it will,” he said, “but it’s still the right thing to do.” She was about to comment, but he forestalled the question. “Why? Because it is.”

  “John—”

  “If we don’t do this, and I mean right now, we might as well turn tail and pack up, because they’ll be comin’ anyway.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Was she joking? “Our people are in enemy hands, Doctor, what do you think that means?” He paused for a beat, to let it sink in. “It’s a matter of time before the Wraith learn this is our base of operations, and they wanted this piece of real estate a long time ago.”

  He had her, he could tell. He could see her wavering, see the doubt in her dark eyes. “I just need more information. Who knows, maybe we could negotiate a peaceful—”

  “Peaceful? Are you kidding me?” He almost laughed. “We hadn’t been there more than a few hours when they showed up. What are the odds of that?”

  Weir looked genuinely disturbed. “You’re saying they came because of you?” He shrugged his agreement and her eyes darkened, her voice lowering. “Then isn’t it possible that one of these people you brought back tipped them off?”

  He met her gaze, and held it. Carefully he said, “Yeah, it’s possible.”

  Weir all but flung her arms up in exasperation. “That’s just the kind of snap decision—”

  “Not all of them are bad,” he interrupted hotly, “and if we intend to stick around we need friends.”

  “Okay, I see your point. Now see mine.” Her chin lifted, indecision replaced with a hard resolve. “I will not authorize a rescue mission until I know there’s even a remote chance of success and that I’m not just sending more good people, including you, to their deaths.”

  That was that. It was clear from her face that any further argument was futile. And, if he was honest, he understood her point. They had no idea where Sumner and the others had been taken – some kind of Wraith stronghold, perhaps? Without hard intel they’d be going in blind, and no one – not even he – could contemplate leading his men on a suicide mission.

  With a nod he turned away, leaving Weir to enjoy the view as he headed back inside. He wasn’t about to give this up, but Weir was right. They needed information, they needed facts, and he was damn well gonna make sure they got them.

  The pain was all over, like being immersed in a bath of searing heat and light. She remembered screaming, although she had made no sound. She remembered running until the ground had fallen away from beneath her feet, and she remembered the fear – the breath-stealing fear – and that she’d wondered if this was how her mother had felt when she was taken.

  After that everything had spun into darkness, a complete darkness that was only now beginning to crack. She heard the whisper of frightened voices, felt her limbs ache with the echo of pain and the hardness of the floor and the dampness of the fetid air. Her eyelids began to move, struggling to open.

  At first all she could see around her were shadows, blue shadows within shadows. And then a hand touched her arm and she saw a face. Toran. He looked pale as a spirit, as if he were already dead.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  Teyla nodded. “Where are we?”

  It was a hopeless question, and Toran couldn’t bring himself to answer. He simply shook his head, sitting back on his haunches like the prey at the end of a chase. Forcing herself to sit up, Teyla glanced around the cell. Colonel Sumner sat against the far wall with some of his men, and she found herself relieved that Major Sheppard was not among them. She hoped he had escaped. Five of her own people were huddled in the opposite corner – among them she recognized Halling’s tall figure, although not that of his son, which was a small mercy. Halling was watching Sumner and his men, anger lurking beneath the terror in his eyes. He blamed the strangers for bringing the Wraith, and perhaps he blamed himself for bringing the strangers to the village.

  She turned once more to Colonel Sumner and, as if sensing her gaze, he looked at her. His face was gaunt, some of the arrogance had fallen away. He too was frightened, although he hid it well. “Any idea what to expect?”

  “No.” No one who had been taken ever returned.

  Sumner nodded toward Toran. “Your friend was the one who said the Wraith would come if we went down into the ruins.”

  “You should have heeded his warning,” Halling growled.

  “How do I know he’s not the one who
told them?”

  Halling’s retort died on his lips. The sound of footsteps echoed down the shadowy corridor and three dark figures approached. Her heart thundering, Teyla rose and came to stand before her frightened people. To her surprise, she found Sumner at her side. He was breathing fast, but his face was bold, and he did not flinch as the Wraith emerged from the shadows.

  The Wraith was pale as a corpse, his eyes black and lifeless. His breath stank of decay. At a silent command the door to the pen opened. Behind her, Teyla could hear the whimpers of fear from her people and felt her own blood run cold as winter ice.

  Abruptly, Sumner stepped forward. “My name is Colonel Marshall Sum—”

  The Wraith fired its weapon, blasting Sumner across the room. He crumpled against the far wall and fell to the floor in a heap as two of his men darted to his aid. Ignoring him, the Wraith turned his eyes on Teyla, his gaze sweeping across her body like a frozen wind before it came to rest on Toran.

  He shrank back, terrified, eyes wide and filling with tears. With no command given, the two Wraith standing behind the first stepped into the pen and seized Toran. “No, please…” he hissed, so frightened he could barely speak. And then he looked right at her. “Help me!”

  Jolted from her own sense of horror, Teyla pushed herself forward. “Take me in his place!”

  “No.” It was Sumner, shakily back on his feet. “Take me.” The Wraith turned to him, the expression in its dead eyes unreadable. “We’re the ones you’re after, right? I’m the leader.”

  For a moment longer the Wraith regarded Sumner, then it turned away and stepped out of the pen. Locked in the iron grip of the other Wraith, Toran was dragged out after it, whimpering in terror. She couldn’t catch his eye, couldn’t bid him farewell; his mind was lost to fear, and as they pulled him from the cell he began to scream. Sick with rage and guilt, Teyla trembled as his wails echoed the length of the corridor. There was nothing she could do to save him – he was one of her people and she couldn’t save him.