Stargate Atlantis: The Chosen (Stargate Atlantis)

by Whitelaw, Sonny

  When the doors opened, it took him a moment to comprehend just what he was seeing. Ford stepped out of the transport with his P-90 aimed, Teyla following behind with Peryn. As they stood in the Sanctuary Hall, whole and unhurt and defying all bounds of logic, Rodney felt his knees give just a bit before he locked them. Likewise, if his eyes were suddenly stinging, it had to be a consequence of the remaining smoke. This changed... well, it changed everything.

  The motion of the doors galvanized him into action. “Don’t let them shut!” he shouted, darting forward. “The next time it shows up, it could be full of Wraith.”

  Instantly understanding, Peryn ducked back to the panel and halted the mechanism. Ford and Teyla barely had time to step away before the children swarmed past and mobbed Peryn, their shouts of joy mingling together.

  “Good to see you on your feet again, Major.” Ford approached his commanding officer with a broad grin and a hand extended.

  Sheppard shook it firmly and clapped the Lieutenant on the back, his weapon forgotten at his side. “Not half as good as it is to see the two of you.” His voice was rough, and Rodney imagined he could see a telltale brightness in the other man’s eyes. Then again, the Major had been pretty glassy-eyed for a while now.

  “Gotta say, though, sir, you’re not looking so great.”

  “Everybody’s a critic.” Sheppard deflected the comment. “Let’s have a sit rep, Lieutenant.”

  “Starting with how you managed to escape the explosion at North Bridge,” Rodney put in, still trying to recover his composure.

  “Yeah, that was close. We’re lucky Peryn’s quick on the trigger, or we wouldn’t have transported out in time. It was bizarre. Somehow all the oil backed up through the fountains or something...” Ford seemed to have picked up Rodney’s discomfort, because he pulled back with a suspicious glare. “You were actually trying to drown us in oil, weren’t you?”

  “Surely you can understand that we might have had more reason to expect the Wraith to be in that transport rather than you.” A rapid shift in emotional states seemed to be an obligatory part of battlefield operations. Falling back onto his natural defensiveness, then, seemed the most prudent course of action to Rodney.

  “Peryn then took us into what remains of the Enclave,” Teyla continued. “It appears that there are two separate systems of transports, one of which was kept secret from all but the Chosen. When we used this hidden transport, we found…something of great interest.”

  “It looks sorta like some weird Ancient technology, sir,” Ford broke in.

  Rodney felt his face go slack. Defensiveness immediately shifted into aggression. “Again with the information that should have been presented earlier.” Striding toward the transport, he was soon caught up in a throng of refugees, swarming around him in desperation. Hands grabbed at him, causing him to wonder if they were purposely trying to drive him into additional therapy.

  “We must leave!” one cried. “The rivers burn. All around the Citadel is fire!”

  The thick black smoke seemed to bear that statement out. It blocked much of the sunlight outside and began to roll into the Sanctuary Hall through the smashed windows.

  “The Wraith are everywhere!” another voice wailed. “There is no place safe.”

  “The safest thing you can do right now is stay put!” Sheppard called back. “Or at least it will be once I take a look at this device.” He reached out to grip a warrior’s arm. “All of you need to stay here and fight off any Wraith that come through the transport.”

  The trainee warriors shared looks of disbelief and dismay. “You would leave us now, when we are most in need?” one demanded. Murmurs of “typical Chosen” reached Rodney’s ears.

  “I’m not running,” Sheppard protested. “Dalera’s weapon is our best hope of beating the Wraith, and I’m telling you I can make it work.”

  You hope, Rodney didn’t add. There were a lot of uncertainties built into that assertion, not the least of which was the hope that they had been able to get sufficient Genes to man the Stations.

  The Hall tumbled into bedlam. Refugees began to push and shove, frantic to pack into the transport. Beside Rodney, people were starting to crush against the children, trying to force them out. Someone was going to get trampled very soon if this wasn’t stopped. Peryn and Yann were yelling at everyone to calm down, but it was useless. Sheppard glanced over at Teyla and tapped his P-90. She nodded, resigned, and he fired a short burst over the crowd’s heads into the far wall. The Major’s features immediately twisted into a grimace. Obviously he hadn’t considered the effect of the gun’s loud report on a concussion. The desired effect was achieved, however, as the shouting halted.

  “The room’s not big enough for all these people to cram in,” Ford said. “And I don’t think it would be such a great idea, anyway, given what else we found in there.”

  “Would you care to elaborate on that statement, Lieutenant?” Rodney snapped.

  Ford glanced around. “I don’t think so. Let’s just say you’re going to have to see it to believe it.”

  “We will transport everyone to the upper level of the Enclave.” Teyla raised her voice for all to hear, and once again Rodney understood why she was the leader of her people. “You will be safe there. I will stay with you.”

  “So will I,” put in Peryn.

  “Major Sheppard will operate Dalera’s Weapon, and the Wraith will fall. Do not abandon your resolve now, after so much has been sacrificed for your survival.”

  “She speaks true.” Yann stepped next to Teyla. “I will return in the transport, and I will not leave it until all of you have a place in the Enclave. The Genes have risked their lives this past day transporting you and your families from the outlying villages. Remember that, and know that as one of that number, I will not betray your trust.”

  Their assurances calmed everyone down enough for the doors to close, and Rodney had to admit that it sounded good. He understood with agonizing clarity that nowhere in the Citadel would be safe. But these people had lived all their lives with a perception of the Enclave as a fortress of strength, always protected. That, if nothing else, had to give them some comfort.

  A new thought occurred to him, and he began to comprehend just what had been at stake when the Chosen had made the awful choice to leave villagers to the Wraith rather than risk being captured themselves. It hadn’t been an act of cowardice or superiority, but instead the only way of protecting the Enclave, and by extension the heart of their defensive system and their weapon. It was yet one more apology he might have made for his earlier assumptions, but, as with so much about this situation, it would come far too late.

  The first group of refugees poured out of the transport and into the gutted ruins. Through crumbling walls and broken windowpanes, a ring of fire and black smoke was visible around the Citadel. Although in places the smoke wasn’t terribly high, corresponding to the level of oil in that quadrant, the conflagration at Black Hill was immense and almost mesmeric. Due to the elevation of the plateau where the Enclave temple had once stood, the air was much clearer, but Rodney knew that wouldn’t last for long. A dark smudge in the sky caught his gaze, and he tried not to think too hard about the possibility that it was a group of Darts amassing for some kind of coordinated run.

  “Getting rid of the Wraith isn’t going to solve the oil problem,” Ford commented, stepping out of the transport and over a blackened beam.

  Would he never learn? “Thank you for once again illuminating the patently obvious, Lieutenant. One problem at a time if you don’t mind.”

  The Marine ignored him and turned to Sheppard. “Knock ‘em dead, sir.”

  “That’s the plan,” replied the Major. “See you back here when it’s over.”

  The transport had finally emptied, leaving only Rodney along with Sheppard, Teyla and the children. The little girl who’d seemingly been tailing Rodney for hours had somehow managed to attach one small, sticky hand to his. He didn’t bother trying to extr
icate himself before pressing the button that Teyla indicated. The doors shut and re-opened again—and never in his life had he been so taken aback. He fumbled for his weapon, but the child clinging to him joined in the chorus of terrified screams and welded herself to his legs.

  “It is all right,” Teyla declared, exiting the transport ahead of Sheppard. “They cannot harm you.” She smiled reassuringly at the children and walked across to the transparent stasis chambers embedded in one wall. “I believe they are in a form of hibernation.”

  Extracating himself from the cluster of limbs, Rodney joined Teyla and Sheppard staring with a mixture of repugnance and fascination at the naked Wraith curled into fetal positions. Noting the framework surrounding the Wraith’s heads, and recalling the little he’d gleaned about Dalera’s experiments, he immediately assessed the situation. “Oh…my. Oh, wow! This is amazing. Do you realize what this is?” But there was little time to admire Dalera’s handiwork. If his theory was correct, the power grid would only work if all of the Genes maintained their positions—and with choking, oily smoke rolling in, that wouldn’t be for long, assuming that they were all manned in the first place.

  “The reason why the Wraith are hell bent on breaking into the Citadel?” Sheppard made no effort to disguise his shock. “I thought you said this was a weapon?”

  The children were wandering around the room with their mouths agape. “Don’t touch anything.” Rodney pulled off his pack, lowered it to the ground, and scanned what looked to be a patchwork of consoles made up from several different types of technology. While some of it was decidedly Ancient in origin, much was unfamiliar to him. “Dalera experimented with a neural interface for a weapon. I had assumed it was something like the weapons chair. Apparently not.”

  Sheppard turned to him. “Didn’t you say that it was unsuccessful?”

  “In her colleagues’ opinion, yes, but I’m wondering if her banishment really was due to her choice in husbands, or—”

  “The nature of her experiments.” Sheppard turned his attention back to the Queens.

  Nodding curtly, Rodney added, “Once exiled, Dalera wouldn’t have had access to much in the way of technology. Instead, she cobbled together whatever she could find—including control panels from…I don’t know.” He examined the consoles again. “Wraith ships, perhaps.”

  “They don’t look ten thousand years old.” Sheppard studied the Wraith uncertainly. “And they’re kind of small—younger than the last Queen I met. I gotta say, the whole eyes-open thing is a little on the freaky side.”

  “Being in stasis,” Rodney muttered, searching for a familiar point of reference, “theoretically they should age, but at a vastly decelerated rate.” Rubbing his forehead in frustration, he snapped, “I’m never going to be able to get this operational. I can’t even use my instruments to create an interface…Wait. Here’s something.”

  He flipped open a panel similar to the one that Kesun had used to display charts of the planet’s land mass. Instead of maps, though, the information offered a tantalizing insight into the weapon’s plan. It vindicated his theory that the Stations were vital hubs in a kind of circuit board that powered a weapon, in addition to providing a defensive strategy. It also indicated something that looked like—

  Realization hit Rodney with almost painful force. That was why her colleagues had dismissed the experiments as a failure. But Dalera had continued with them nonetheless. “That’s why the Wraith are attacking!” He turned to Sheppard. “What role do queen bees play a hive?”

  “They make lots of baby bees?”

  “Yes, of course, Major, but more importantly they control the activity of every bee in the hive.” Now that Rodney understood what was going on, it was hard to keep his words from tumbling over each other. “These weren’t Queens when they were placed in these chambers. They were larvae, babies, whatever you call these things when they’re young. Dalera incorporated them as a biological component to a weapons’ system, but—”

  “In the years hence, they grew into adults.” Teyla turned to face him, a less than thrilled expression on her face.

  “The determination of the Wraith attack and their unwillingness to bomb this Citadel would indicate that their offensive is considerably more than a mere culling. Instead of mounting the intended defense, these two—” Rodney rapped a knuckle against the hood of one of the stasis chambers. “—are most likely using the Wraith equivalent of pheromones to drive the attack, but in such a way that will ensure their retrieval.”

  “Well, there’s one solution to that.” The Major stepped back, raised his weapon and, cringing against the anticipated shock, aimed it at the stasis chambers.

  “Would you just hold on a moment?” Rodney shouted. “Not every solution comes at the end of a gun.” He felt a momentary twinge of guilt when Sheppard winced. The Major really did not look good. And unless he found a solution to this further problem that the vaunted Dalera had failed to foresee, none of them would fare too well when the Wraith burst in here to rescue their Queens-in-waiting.

  “Move back!” Aiden ordered, ushering people away from the entrance of the transport. “We need the space to get everyone in the next group out of the transport as quickly as possible.”

  The Dalerans were reluctant to shift their positions near the doors. Parents grasped children, terrified of losing them in the crowd, while many of the elderly stared at their surroundings with tears in their eyes. In the distance, a squadron of Darts had set up a holding pattern, obviously hovering just outside the edge of the Shields’ influence. They were like vultures, waiting to strike as soon as the Dalerans were forced to evacuate the Citadel.

  Aiden turned to pose a question to Yann, Peryn having returned in the transport for the next group, but it was answered by the wails of the villagers.

  “The sacred Enclave is destroyed,” sobbed a woman near his elbow. “Our last sanctuary offers nothing but false hope.”

  “Surely we are lost now,” cried another. “Who could have done this?”

  “Who is responsible for burning the Enclave?”

  Aiden stared at them. They’d wanted to save these people, from oppression and from the Wraith, but had they ever had a chance at saving them from themselves?

  “This was but one building, the temple,” Yann reminded them as he went back inside the transport to retrieve the next lot. “The heart of the Enclave, Dalera’s weapon, remains untouched. With the help of all the Genes, you will be protected.”

  The transport doors closed, and Aiden’s thoughts turned to Lisera, still at her post in the Station. The smoke was most likely closing in—

  Hearing a noise nearby, he spun around, bringing his P-90 to bear. A short distance away, the remains of a fountain toppled to one side, and an area about the size of a manhole opened up. Elsewhere, timbers creaked and glass shifted as more holes began opening up. People scuttled away, screaming, “Wraith! The Wraith are here!” And this time, they weren’t jumping at shadows.

  It was the childish giggle that alerted Rodney. It was so unexpected that he glanced around. The children were huddled together in the shadows on the other side of the room, about as far from the Wraith as anyone could possibly get. He didn’t much blame them. So what did they find so hilarious?

  “It feels funny,” the little girl supplied.

  Even in the darkness, Rodney could see that she had inserted her hand in something. “I thought I told you not to touch anything!” he admonished, striding across to them. But when he saw what she was touching, instead of batting her hand away, for a brief, insane moment he considered adopting the child. “Major!”

  The children parted to let Sheppard through. He immediately placed his hand against the same rubbery control device that normally existed on an Ancient chair. Nothing happened. Before Rodney could so instruct him, the Major stepped into the stasis chamber and leaned back.

  The resulting hum sounded almost like a sigh, as if the system were somehow grateful to have been awakened
. A blue glow lit the entire room, eliciting gasps of wonder from the children. The little girl who had previously appropriated Rodney’s hand seemed oblivious to their rapidly approaching doom. “It is very beautiful.”

  Rodney didn’t see anything particularly beautiful about a piece of technology. All it had done so far was turn itself on. If the blasted thing performed as he hoped, then he’d consider viewing it more poetically. “Major, think about where we are in the solar system,” he instructed. “Rapidly.”

  “How would I know the first thing about where we are in this solar system?”

  Even as he spoke, however, an image appeared overhead. Rather than a diagram of space, it was instead a map of the planet. The murmurs, punctuated by several ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ from the kids, grew louder. Rodney was fairly amazed himself, and unlike them, he’d seen this kind of thing before.

  Two large blips appeared on the projected image. Wraith hive ships, almost certainly. Thousands of smaller blips winked into existence—Darts, no doubt—and buzzed around the larger blips like gnats.

  “I’m thinking about shooting them down,” Sheppard said in a hopeful voice. Silence stretched as everyone watched the projection for any change.

  “Nothing’s happening.” Rodney felt his pulse accelerate. “Maybe it’s the concussion—maybe you bashed in whatever neurological centers this thing taps into.”

  “Or maybe I’ve used up my allocated brain power for the day,” Sheppard shot back.

  “Major, your propensity for snarking at inopportune moments—”

  “Rodney, unless you want to try this yourself, shut the hell up.”

  They’d found the weapon and activated it. Surely that would be enough. Wouldn’t it? How much more could Dalera ask of them? Come on, come on... “The interface!” he blurted, and scrambled around the console for a piece of curved ceramic that he’d seen earlier. Snatching it up and thrusting it into Sheppard’s free hand, he ordered, “Put it on!”