by Stargate
Teyla nodded. “In his honor, I will do so gladly.”
Rodney pressed himself as flat as he could into the lee of a support beam and gritted his teeth. He felt the numbing edge of static backwash from the Wraith stunner blasts arcing past him, and he was in no rush to meet one full-on. McKay was far more familiar than he wanted to be with the highly unpleasant after-effects of taking a hit from the alien weapons. It had happened with enough regularity that it sometimes kept him up at night, wondering about how many neurons the stun shots fried each time; the very thought of losing some of his precious brain cells made Rodney feel quite unwell.
Blind-firing, he poked the muzzle of the P90 out into the corridor and let off a burst of rounds, but it didn’t seem to slow the return fire from the Wraiths. Across the corridor, similarly in cover behind another pillar, Sheppard was aiming down the barrel of his assault rifle and planting careful three-shot clusters in the enemy line; further back, lying prone so he presented a smaller target, Lorne laid down cover fire, trying to keep the Wraith off-balance. It didn’t seem to be working, though.
“They’re dug in tight,” called the major.
“Yeah, I’m getting that,” Sheppard replied dryly. “We should have asked Carter to magic us up a bunch of grenades.”
McKay chanced a look around the support. Between the two sides of the firefight, a handful of Risar stood mute and confused, blinking and clutching at the air, completely oblivious to the bullets and energy bolts streaking past them. One of the organic drones was clipped by a blast from a Wraith warrior and stumbled to the floor without a cry.
“What is wrong with those things?” said Lorne. “They’re right in the line of fire!”
“Fenrir,” said McKay. “He’s not controlling them any more. Without any orders, they’re just going around in circles.” As if to underline his statement, the lights along the floor dimmed for a moment, and in concert the Risar reached for their heads.
At the far end of the corridor, where the passageway branched toward a heavy hatch, the Wraith warriors had ripped out a wall panel for use as a makeshift barricade. Behind them, he could pick out one of the black-tunic-wearing scientist caste working at the controls to the door. For a second he thought it was the same Wraith they’d left looking like a fool back on the Hive Ship; but then there was no way he would have been able to get over to the Aegis this fast. The truth was, it appeared relatively rare to find differentiation between the different Wraith sub-groups; from the research started by Carson Beckett three years back, it seemed that each of them were formed in egg-sac pods as basic ‘blanks’, and then transformed in utero by the injection of biochemical triggers by a Queen. It wasn’t much different from the way hive insects worked on Earth. The right mix of genetic code could create a low-smarts, high-strength warrior, a thinker for the scientist caste, a ship commander, even a new Queen.
There was a sparking and a cough of smoke from the hatchway, and Rodney’s heart sank as the doors slid open, granting the Wraith scientist access. A stun bolt hissed past him and he yelped, ducking back into cover.
“We’re out of options. I’m gonna rush them,” said Sheppard. “On three.”
“Three what?” McKay snapped back. “Bad plan! You step out, they’ll cut you down!”
“Then how — ?” Lorne was starting to speak when lights went out in the corridor, and for one stark moment the only illumination was the muzzle flare of the rifles.
“What the hell?” said Sheppard.
There came a sound that made Rodney’s skin crawl, a weird keening moan that echoed down the corridor. With a start, he realized it was coming from all around them.
“The Risar…” said Lorne. “It’s them.”
The lights flickered and came back, both humans and Wraith brought to pause by the brief blackout. The moaning grew louder, more strident. The Asgard drones were agitated, clawing at themselves and stumbling against the walls.
“Oh no.” Rodney felt a jolt of comprehension. “Fenrir… I think he’s dead.”
One of the Wraith warriors fired a shot into the shambling, directionless Risar and knocked it to the deck; it was a grave mistake. As one, the rest of the drone-creatures howled incoherently and surged toward the Wraith barricade, into the teeth of the alien weapons. The densely-muscled Risar attacked on reflex, shattering the line. Without their Asgard creator to guide them, they had become primitive and animalistic, reacting to only the most savage and basic of instincts.
Sheppard shot the others a look. “C’mon, move up! This might be the only chance we get.” He broke from cover, moving and firing, with Lorne charging after him. McKay swallowed hard and followed.
Teyla placed her hands on the half-spheres of the control console as Colonel Carter had shown her, and moved them gently. On the holographic screen in front of her, a disc of color turned and flexed, showing the power train from the energy reactor in the heart of the Aegis.
“Careful,” said Carter. “I need you to manually regulate the flux from the core while I fire up the sub-light drives.”
“I understand,” she replied, although she had only the most basic grasp of what the colonel was actually doing. The Asgard ship’s controls were not like those of Wraith ships; there was none of the unearthly sense-connection between flesh and machinery.
Carter’s hands moved over the neighboring panel in long loops, as panes of data unfolded in the cold air before them. Teyla saw an exterior view flicker into life on the large oval screen. There, blotting out the distant ball of Heruun’s orange sun, was the monstrous arachnid silhouette of a Hive Ship. She saw it shift. “They are turning,” she reported. “They see us moving.”
“External sensors are picking up energy transfer.” Carter chewed her lip. “Yes, there. The Wraith are charging weapons.”
“Will they risk firing on us? Do they not wish to keep this craft intact?”
The colonel glanced at her. “My guess is they’ll be more than happy to put a few dents in it if they have to. And worst-case scenario…”
“They will destroy it if they cannot possess it.”
Carter nodded. “Here we go, sub-light engines to one quarter thrust.”
On the screen the Hive Ship slipped away, turning even as it dropped past them.
Teyla studied her console. “The shields… The indicator ribbon here is barely a third full.”
“I know. We’ll have to do what we can to avoid getting tagged —”
The decking beneath their feet rocked and pitched; on the power screen, a schematic of the Aegis flashed up, a series of red circles appearing all along the aft of the vessel were the first salvo from the Hive Ship impacted.
“Or not,” Carter frowned. “We have to get some distance, give the weapons grid time to charge up, otherwise they’ll pick us apart.”
Teyla’s mind raced. She had been both the hunter and the hunted, on foot in the forests of Athos and on other worlds across Pegasus; but the rules of the hunt there or here in the void of space were still basically the same. Evade your enemy. Deny them their advantage. Strike from cover.
She nodded at the exterior view. “We should make for Heruun. The planet’s ice halo. We could lose them in the clutter.”
The colonel angled the ship and applied more power to the drives. “Good call. I’m taking us in.”
Sheppard’s rifle ran empty and he spun it about as he advanced, slamming the skeletal butt of the G-36 into the chest of the Wraith warrior blocking his path to the computer core chamber. The alien cried out as it was knocked back over a shallow railing; built for the diminutive Asgard, the safety rail only came up to the Wraith’s knees, and it tumbled headfirst to the chamber’s lower level twenty feet below.
The colonel threw a glance over his shoulder as Lorne and McKay followed him in, both men laying down blasts of gunfire. The few remaining Wraith outside had been mauled by the wild Risar, but in their uncontrolled state there was a chance the drones might turn on the humans as well. They had to mo
ve quickly.
The core chamber reminded Sheppard of an amphitheatre, with tiered concentric levels dropping downward to an open area in the centre. A broad column of crystalline circuitry glowing with power dominated everything, and from it extended spokes of Asgard technology that connected to other, smaller cylinders of systemry around the edges of the room. Hanging over the floor were glass maintenance platforms with no visible means of suspension.
Lorne dispatched a pair of armed Wraith left behind to guard the entrance as Sheppard dropped into a crouch, reloading his weapon. On the lowermost level the other Wraith were reacting to their presence, firing stun blasts toward them, moving into cover. The larger group of them were clustered around a cylinder of smoked glass; glowing blue vanes circled around it, humming with power. Sheppard spotted one of the Wraith leather jacket brigade working a console under the watchful eye of a senior warrior. The soldier Wraith looked familiar; he had been in the control room when Fenrir had first brought the Atlanteans aboard the Aegis. The colonel raised his rifle, but the angle was poor. He couldn’t draw a bead on either of them from here.
Lorne voiced the question forming in Sheppard’s thoughts. “What are they doing down there?”
McKay made a face. “That cylinder… It’s the matter converter platform.”
A sphere of white light appeared inside the smoked glass and then faded away; the panels retracted to reveal a barrel-shaped object half the height of a man. It was constructed out of the same featureless, matte grey metal that formed the walls of the Asgard starship. About the sides of it, there were rings that pulsed slowly with dull red color.
Sheppard’s throat went dry. “Rodney. Is that what I think it is?”
Two of the Wraith warriors gathered up the device and removed it from the converter; in doing so they turned it, revealing an oval plate attached to the side of the object. On it was a single Asgard rune, a simple vertical line like a downward knife cut. The symbol ‘isa’.
“Oh no,” managed McKay.
“I really hate it when you say that,” said Lorne. “So that’s a bomb?”
Rodney nodded. “And then some.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ronon emerged into a chamber formed by the natural growth of the great tree’s thicker trunks, following Keller and the others. Flooring had been set across it, and a circular door had been fitted into a curved bole. Two more of Soonir’s men were waiting for them there, one at a viewing slot in the door. He nodded to the rebel leader. “No sign of any more Wraith. The others may not have been alerted yet.”
“Good,” said Soonir. “Our luck is holding.”
“For now,” said the Satedan. He wondered if Sheppard and the others were faring any better.
There was a commotion behind him and Ronon turned to see Takkol barge past Lieutenant Allan. The fear the elder had shown in the cages was gone and his usual haughty mien had returned. “Is this one of your bolt holes?” he demanded, glaring at the rebel. “Is this how you moved around the settlement, to plant your seeds of sedition and plot to overthrow my rule?”
“Yes,” Soonir replied evenly. “And now it has saved your life. I think gratitude would be in order.”
“To you? Never! For all we know, you are the instigator of all this! Perhaps you are in league with Kullid and Aaren, perhaps you are one of the pawns of the Wraith!”
Soonir’s face clouded. “I had hoped your eyes would have been opened when your precious Aegis renounced you, but I see that was too much to ask for! You are still the same blinkered fool you ever were.”
The two men squared off, each a moment away from resorting to physical violence. Ronon’s face twisted in a sneer and he stepped between them. “Both of you, be quiet before I beat that noise out of you.” Both the rebel soldiers and the remainder of the elder’s guards bristled at his words.
“How dare you threaten me!” Takkol retorted.
Soonir eyed Ronon. “The sickness has made you foolish, voyager. You are in no state to fight.”
“If you think that,” Ronon glowered at the two men, each word a razor, “then you’re a poor judge of character.” He snorted. “Look at you. Away from the Wraith for less than a minute and you’re already falling back into your old patterns.” The Satedan shook his head. “Your people need help, not your damned posturing.”
“You know nothing of our society,” Takkol replied defensively.
“I know this.” Ronon prodded him in the chest. “I’ve seen more worlds scoured clean by the Wraith than you can count, my own home among them.” He coughed and spat. “And I know that the only way to fight the Wraith is to be willing to give everything. Even your life.” He shot a look at Soonir. “So if you want Heruun to have another sunrise, put aside any rivalry you have. Fight together or die apart. It’s that simple.”
His grim pronouncement brought silence with it. Neither Soonir nor Takkol could dare to deny the truth of what he had said.
Finally, Keller spoke up. “The Wraith who came to the cages… There will be others. Sooner or later, they’re going to do what they always do. Start the cull.”
“We’ve gotta hit them now,” said Allan wearily. “We have the element of surprise.”
Ronon nodded. The lieutenant’s suggestion made good tactical sense. “We’ll need your help,” he said, turning back to the elder and the rebel. “The Wraith must be staging from somewhere…”
“The sick lodge,” said Soonir. “Kullid has given it over to them.”
“If we can get close without raising the alarm, we can tip the balance.”
Takkol frowned. “There are many of our people there, many of the sick who have come lured by Kullid’s promises that the Wraith have a cure for them.”
“Laaro’s parents…” murmured Keller.
“Can you get us there unseen?” said Ronon.
Soonir paused, thinking. “It can be done. But we must move now.”
“I will come with you,” Takkol added, drawing himself up. “I should be there.”
“The more, the merrier,” said Allan.
Ronon felt a hand on his arm and turned. “Are you really sure you’re up for this?” Keller spoke quietly. “I’ve been watching you. You can fool the others but you can’t fool me, I know the pain and disorientation are getting worse.”
He shook her off. “I’ll be okay.”
The doctor’s jaw set firmly. “I’m sure you think that. But just in case you’re not, I’m coming with you.”
“No,” he began, “that’s not going to happen. You need to stay out of sight, take the others and find a safe haven.” Ronon gestured towards the nurses and medical staffers who had come with Keller from Atlantis.
“This isn’t a discussion,” she replied. “And besides, you’re not the reason I want to go back to the sick lodge. If Kullid is telling the truth, and the Wraith do have a cure for the sickness, that’s where it will be.” She folded her arms and stared defiantly at him.
He sighed; he couldn’t muster the will to argue with her. “Fine. Just don’t get yourself killed.”
“Lorne!” Sheppard shouted to attract the major’s attention and jabbed a finger toward a shallow curved ramp leading down toward the lower level of the computer core. “Take McKay, get down there and stop those creeps from using the collapsar.”
“What are you going to do?” said McKay.
“Something daring to keep them off your asses. Now go!” If he had paused to think seriously about it, Sheppard knew that the recklessness of what he was about to do would convince him to stay put; so he threw caution to the wind and just winged it.
Yelling at the top of his voice, he burst from cover with his assault rifle at his hip, the fire selector slotted at full auto. It had exactly the effect he wanted, catching the Wraith off guard as he looped around the raised walkway, laying down a fan of bullets. Shots whined off the support stanchions and blew warriors off their feet. All around him were the buzzing flares of stunner bolts, some of them so close he could
feel the numbing corona of energy.
Reaching another curved ramp on the far side of the chamber, he let himself fall backwards into a half-slide, coming down against one of the low safety railings. Ignoring the friction down his thigh, he rode the smooth banister toward the lower level. A pair of Wraith moved to block his path and he kicked off, spinning around to land bodily against the pair of them. Reacting without thinking, Sheppard slammed the still-hot muzzle of the G-36 into the face of one of the aliens, and sent it howling away, clawed fingers grabbing at flash-burned skin. The second Wraith grabbed a handful of his gear vest and yanked him backward; he lost the rifle and let himself drop. The warrior overbalanced and fell hard against a steel wall. The colonel mirrored a move he’d once seen pulled by a WWF wrestler and put all his weight behind his elbow, driving the Wraith’s skull into the wall with a nasty crunch of bone.
More of them were coming. He couldn’t spare a second to see if Lorne and McKay had made it down; instead he flung himself across the floor and snatched up a fallen stunner rifle, clutching the metallic, maggot-shaped weapon to him. He squeezed the firing pad and dispatched the aliens advancing on him.
Gunfire rattled on the far side of the chamber and he scrambled away, pausing only to snag the strap of his discarded G-36 and swing it over his shoulder.
“Sheppard!” He heard Rodney shouting his name. “Stop him!”
He didn’t need to ask who. The Wraith veteran — the one from the bridge — was shoving two of his lackeys across the chamber, toward another of the room’s cylindrical alcoves. The bigger warrior drones were carrying Fenrir’s isa unit between them.
Unlike the matter converter, this other alcove was a shallow dais under lit by green and white strobes, pulsing in a regular rhythm. To one side, a curved panel was connected to the device and standing over it was a Wraith scientist.