Author's disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis and its associated characters. MGM does, for which, for the most part, they have my utmost respect. No copyright infringement is intended in writing these stories.
My deepest respect also goes to the talented actors that brought to life the characters we see in Stargate Atlantis. My portrayal of the characters here is based on my perception of the work of Joe Flanigan, Jason Momoa, Rachel Luttrell, Paul McGillion, David Hewlett, Amanda Tapping, Robert Picardo and Connor Trinneer. Without these people and those that came before them, there would have been no Atlantis as we know it today.
Other assorted original characters (i.e. those that don't really appear in the show) are my own creation, and they, along with the original material presented here are © Eirian Phillips 2008.
Story is rated for mature readers, according to whatever rating system is adopted these days for Fan Fiction. It changes on a site by site basis... It was so much easier way back when...
There may be other virtual seasons of SGA out there in cyberspace. Some may even be unofficially official. However, as a writer, I don't believe that this should discourage others from having their own ideas about things. Mine are presented here.
I can be reached by Email. Feedback is always welcome and Emails are usually answered.
Characters and events are purely fictitious, and any similarity to anyone living, transformed, dead, cloned or in any alternate universe or timeline is entirely coincidental.
Harm's Way
No One Is Left Behind
"Things didn't exactly go well for us after your disappearance. Once I figured out what had happened to you I realised there was nothing that we could do. The Air Force pronounced you KIA, gave you a… a very nice… military funeral back on Earth. Obviously the casket was empty, but erm, you know, it's the thought that counts. From there… well… from there things went from bad to worse. We kept searching for Teyla, but… we just didn't have the resources to cover enough ground. It took us two months before we finally found her… in one of Michael's hideouts… but by then it was too late. She'd had the baby. I guess… after that… he didn't have any use for her any more. So he killed her."
Hologram of Rodney McKay – The Last Man
Previously on Stargate Atlantis:
The instant the cool of the event horizon left him, and he was enveloped by the organic warmth of the Atlantis Gate Room, he found himself surrounded by the ever alert security teams, all aiming P90s in his direction. In their midst stood Colonel Carter and the once more youthful, but frowning figure of Doctor Rodney McKay.
"Whoa!" Sheppard spread his arms, raising his hands to placate the marines. "Whoa."
"John…" Sam Carter greeted him, sounding as confused as Rodney looked.
"Colonel…" he couldn't help but look around. He looked up toward the control room, at the many bubbling pylons that supported the structure of the gate room. Relief and amazement flooded him at the same instant. "It worked. It worked, Rodney, you're a genius."
"Okay," the scientist agreed as Samantha frowned in deeper confusion.
"John, what happened?" she asked.
"How much time has gone by?" he answered with the question that was pressing.
"You've been missing for twelve days."
"Twelve days," he repeated, mostly to himself, "Twelve days is okay; she wouldn't have had her baby yet. Look…" he barely stopped to catch his breath before he looked up at the colonel and told her, "I know this sounds kinda weird but we're on the clock."
"John, what are you talking about?" Carter asked, starting to sound a little frustrated as well as confused.
"I know where Teyla is," he said urgently as the three team members exchanged glances of worried shock.
**
Holding herself up by sheer force of will against the weight of the many truths that began to resolve themselves in her mind Teyla shifted her gaze from the face of her once childhood friend to meet the almost fervent expression of strength she both saw and felt coming from Michael.
"I reached across ten thousand light years and touched your mind," he said.
A small tremor, a knot of something that was not quite fear, not quite excitement and was mixed with something approaching need, began to radiate from deep in her belly. She could not quite bring herself to acknowledge what that might mean for her, but nor could she entirely deny what Michael was saying, no matter how much she looked between him, and the man who had fathered her son.
"There is more of a bond between us than you know," Michael continued, "Once the child is born the bond will grow even stronger."
The knot in her belly tightened.
**
Beside him, Major Lorne pushed open the door. Even before he could fully take in what he saw of the contents of the room, Sheppard's voice sounded in his ear.
"Rodney, you got anything?"
"Hold on," he answered, as he keyed his communication earpiece and then moved, cautiously, further into the room. "Yeah… yeah, I got some kind of… a… of a data terminal." His eyes moved quickly back and forth over the web-like fibres that lent an almost organic appearance to the machinery in front of him. "Let me see if I can power it up and hack in." He hated the feel of the membranous cavity that housed the buttons and switches and shuddered as his fingers moved around from one place to another as he attempted to get Michael's equipment to work for him… but Teyla's life was at stake, and if what Sheppard said was true, so was the future of the entire galaxy. He almost jumped when Sheppard's voice cut across his thoughts.
"McKay, we got something."
"What is it?" he asked breathlessly, without stopping, as power began to flow to the controls and they responded with audible feedback as he pushed them in what he hoped was the proper sequence.
"Some twisted version of a maternity ward… I think we're too early though, but he's gonna bring her here to have the baby."
**
She had no rational argument against what he was saying. Even though the gentle side of her nature screamed at her to deny it, everything he was saying wrapped around her, threatening to suffocate her in the dark comfort of its veracity. Fear of the thoughts and feelings that were welling inside of her rose and as she tried to push them away – find her equilibrium again – she grasped at the only words of which she could make sense… words that in that moment she thought applied equally to her as they did to Michael.
"You're insane!"
She saw the fleeting pass of hurt flash across his eyes, and watched as he swallowed. She tried with all of her resolve to keep a hold of the anger, and not to let his reaction to her words reach inside of her to the place somewhere in her belly, where the knot of breathlessness still dwelled and replace it with compassion, but it was hard, and the ugly, angry expression she had fixed on her face began to fade.
Michael twitched his head upward and took a breath, the hurt still there in his face as he shifted his eyes first right then down before he met her gaze again.
"Spite me all you want," he swallowed again, and continued softly but with a firm, concerned tone, "but don't do it at the expense of the child."
Teyla glanced downward, as if his mention of her son reminded her that he still rested in her belly, relying on her for safety. Fear swelled again, and hard on its heels the anger at all that was happening. She shook her head almost imperceptibly and with a strength that she did not entirely feel said, "My child…" her voice cracked as she spoke, seeing him lower his gaze to take in the curve of her pregnant belly, but she forced herself to go on, "…is of no concern to you."
He lifted his gaze to capture hers once more, and replied with an almost chilling calm. "On the contrary…"
**
Rodney glanced at Sheppard as he gave him the order to take up his part in the conversation with the Wraith. He found the entire matter distasteful. In spite of Sheppard's propensity for giving these creatures names, probably in an attempt to make them seem less threatening, a Wraith by any other name was still as deadly and this one, Todd, was even creepier than the average life-sucking alien.
"One of our people… Teyla… was taken by a dart today," McKay said.
Without blinking, Todd answered, "Then I suppose she's already made some lucky Wraith a very tasty meal."
"This was no culling," he argued. "She was targeted. Someone set a trap."
"And you suspect this…" Todd jerked his gaze, insect-like back to regard Sheppard, "…what do you call him… Michael?"
**
Confusion gave way to a sick feeling as she realised what his mention of reunion meant. "My people… you took them." A frown creased her face. Never had she imagined that he could have been the one responsible. Anyone else… the Wraith, but… not Michael… His tipped his head momentarily to the side, confirming her suspicions. She felt a strange sensations of hope… that soon drained away to be replaced by anger. "Where are they?" she demanded, stepping up to the bars, but still not able to look at him. "What have you done with them?"
"They're alive and well," he told her even before she had finished the question, "and working with me toward the common goal we all share."
"What are you talking about?" She was breathless; felt as though she was suffocating from the implications of everything that was revealed to her in that moment. This time she met his eyes… saw the hurt and anger burning there as he took the four steps that brought him within arms reach of the web of bars that separated each of them from the other.
"The extermination of the Wraith," he said slowly, never once taking his eyes from hers.
**
Ronon knelt beside one of the fallen Wraith, checking for life signs, but he already knew they were dead. Their pallid greenish-white flesh looked even more clammy than usual and their open, catlike eyes retained the ghost of their pain, even in death.
"Well," Sheppard said and pushed his foot against a second of the Wraith, just to be sure, "they're dead."
"There's no marks on 'em," he confirmed, looking up at Sheppard.
"That's because they were poisoned." The third voice had them spinning around, each one of them, McKay included, raised their guns to bear as Todd stepped from around one of the many turns in the passageways of the Wraith ship. "And I suspect… you already know how."
**
"I'm building an army that will soon replace them as the dominant race in this galaxy." Michael's eyes locked with hers as he spoke with quiet, but fervent confidence, of his plans.
"An army of monsters," she said. Teyla recalled, not without a shudder of distaste, the creatures she and the others had encountered when they had searched for the missing Taranan people.
"I'll admit my early attempts were a little… crude." He blinked and she fixed him with an expression of growing understanding, and more than just a little trepidation. "But that's all changed now. I've refined the retrovirus to create the perfect balance. Ability well beyond any normal human, but without… the one weakness that will be the downfall of the Wraith."
She flicked her eyes down to where his hand barely moved. It could have been an unconscious gesture on his part, but she couldn't be sure. She looked up once more to meet his gaze. He held her eyes for a moment, before he too looked down at his right hand, raising it under his inspection, before turning it so that she could clearly see his unblemished palm. Teyla somehow managed to keep her inhaled breath to something less than a gasp as Michael confirmed her suspicions.
"The need to feed," he said.
"It was you." In spite of herself the shock made its way to her face. "You're the one responsible for spreading the Hoffan drug."
**
"I brought you here because… I need your help."
Sheppard scrutinised Todd's face, searching for any sign of duplicity on the part of the Wraith. Finding none didn't mean he was going to trust him, but it did perhaps mean they might have some kind of leverage, should they need it. He glanced over at Rodney, who was looking at Todd in something approaching horrified contempt.
"I'm aware you had a hand in helping the Hoffans refine this drug," Todd continued. Sheppard leaned on the butt of his P90, affecting an indifferent air to try and give nothing away. "I require whatever research you possess in order that I may synthesise a cure for my Hive and my Hive alone."
"That's not gonna happen," he said with more than a little sarcasm.
**
"Hold on… I'm in." McKay moved to look in growing excitement at the data terminal that was now displaying information in Wraith characters across its monitor. "Whoa! Jackpot!"
"What have you got?"
"I got everything. I got gate addresses, I've got subspace communication codes," he gestured toward the codes streaming across the screen as though Sheppard could see through his eyes. "I've even got his research into the hybrids." He turned to Major Lorne with an astonished smile on his face. "He's history…"
**
Teyla forced herself to look away from the monitor, where Michael was showing her the image of her child… swallowing down the mixed emotions she felt she asked urgently, "Why are you doing this?"
Michael turned off the scanning device and moved to another terminal, only just in sight, no matter how much she tried to keep him within her line of vision.
"On the ship, Kanaan said our son would serve the cause." She listened for a moment to the sounds of Michael working at the console. "What did he mean by that…?"
"…He is genetically unique…" he said softly as he returned to her side, "and while I've made a lot of progress with my hybrids there are still some details that need to be worked out."
Looking into his eyes, and he into hers, she tilted her head, the deepest frown on her brow, but was conflicted by the genuine lack of menace toward her son she clearly felt from him. Forcing herself to grasp the fading edge of suspicion she narrowed her eyes.
"This child," he nodded toward her pregnant belly before concluding, "will help me do that."
A thousand questions flooded through her, and she tried to find a place to begin, but Michael turned away from her, crossed toward a bench where equipment and several small vials were placed.
"You've taken good care of him," he told her as he picked up a syringe and one of the vials containing a green serum. "You should be very proud." Carefully he inserted the long needle into the vial and drew some of the liquid into the syringe. "Even so… you could probably use a little help."
**
"What do you care about my wellbeing?" she asked angry in the face of his apparent concern.
"I care a great deal," he answered without looking at her. The resigned almost bewildered look of hurt still lingered on his face as he looked up to meet the confused expression that momentarily creased her brow. "I may not be foolish enough to consider us friends, but… we do have a history." She couldn't take her eyes from his as she listened to his words, the frown deepened as if she were trying to make sense of them, "And even though you've betrayed me repeatedly you're still the only one, Human or Wraith, who's ever come close to understanding what I've been through."
"Really?" she asked, tremulously, trying to deny his words.
"We're not that different, Teyla." He tilted his head, impassive but for his eyes, which bore into her, as though compelling her to understand… to believe once more. "You're a Human with Wraith DNA; a hybrid, just like me."
"I'm no murderer…"
Keller watched horrified as one of their Bola Kai assailants began to get to his feet. She was more than a little relieved to hear Teyla's footsteps as the Athosian woman came to rejoin her.
"That one's dead, but… he's still alive," she said fearfully.
Teyla snatched the long knife, with which Keller had been trying to protect herself, and without breaking stride, descend on the man; slaying him with a single stroke of the blade. Looking on her kill, Teyla threw down the knife.
"We cannot afford to take prisoners," she said.
Once more he tilted his head, challenging her to deny him again. "You kill to protect yourself and your own, so do I. Of course circumstances require me to do it on a slightly larger scale, but the principle is still the same."
**
With a sound like the popping of an old valve television set, the monitor snapped back into blackness, all save for a single Wraith character in the lower right corner that changed with each passing second.
"No, no, no…" he questioned the screen. "No, no, no, no, no. What happened?"
"What's that?" Lorne stepped up behind him and pointed to the changing character, the concern in his voice making it more than clear that the marine already suspected what it was.
"Oh no!" Rodney straightened up and slowly began to turn.
"Doc?" Lorne asked urgently, pressing for confirmation.
"It's a countdown," McKay answered breathlessly.
From around the compound, the sounds of small explosions began, first one, and then another… and another after that.
"Colonel, it's a booby trap," Lorne called out, as a deep rumbling began, and the walls of the compound began to tremble. "We gotta get outa here, now!"
McKay followed him quickly toward the door, but neither man made it before the supportive steel girders came crashing down across the doorway, cutting off their escape. The two of them kept their heads low, trying to avoid the falling debris, trying to see through the rising dust; to find a path through the partially blocked doorway, but both were forced to take shelter when the fall of masonry from the ceiling increased until, with a sound as though they were in the centre of the biggest thunder cloud and the percussive press of what must have been a dozen separate explosions, likely more, the world he knew dissolved into the comfortless black of oblivion.
***
"You should have run when you had the chance, but you let your feelings get in the way."
Michael – The Kindred
Act 1
Unable to explain the nagging unease that had assaulted her the entire time that Colonel Sheppard and his team had been away, Sam Carter paced back and forth from her office to the main control room.
"Anything?" she asked on the third such pass.
"Colonel," Zelenka looked up from his tablet and pushed up his spectacles. "Everything was fine when they checked in. I'm sure that if they'd found anything they would have let us know."
She turned to look at him, and around at the others in the control room, whose faces all showed the same resigned patience at her pacing as did his.
"I know what you're doing, Radek," she told him, "and I appreciate the gesture b—"
"I'm sure they're fine," he said, regarding her from beneath raised eyebrows. She was about to reply when the sonorous tones of the alarm sounded in accompaniment to the rasping hum of energy that passed around the ring of the gate, activating the chevrons one by one.
"Incoming wormhole," one of the controllers announced somewhat redundantly as a second later the muted rush of the singularity's energy collided with the translucent energy shield that was automatically raised to prevent hostile incursions. Sam felt as though they were all holding their breath until the party responsible for dialling the gate was known. "Receiving identification - It's Lieutenant Edison's IDC."
"Lower the shield," Carter ordered and just a second after the shield dissipated, Edison practically fell from the event horizon, stumbling a few steps before his legs buckled under him and he slumped to his knees.
"Or not," Radek Zelenka muttered under his breath as he moved beside her to hurry down the steps toward the Lieutenant.
"Get a medical team," she called over her shoulder, kneeling with Radek to support the injured marine until Doctor Keller or her team could reach them.
"Failsafe," the man gasped, already struggling to rise.
"Take it easy," Sam tried to stop him from moving too much, while at the same time trying to guess from his appearance just what had befallen him, and presumably the other members of the off-world teams. "Just tell me what happened."
"Whole damn building came down around our ears," he answered, his voice broken by many gasping breaths.
Behind her, Sam identified the rattle of a medical gurney being wheeled toward them, and before she could ask him to explain what he meant, Doctor Keller pressed a hand against her shoulder to move her aside and began to perform a triage assessment of the marine's injuries.
"I'm sorry, Colonel, but the debriefing will have to wait," Jennifer told her, an urgent tone in her voice, "I need to get this man to the infirmary."
Sam shook her head, "Colonel Sheppard may not have time to wait," she said, rising to accompany Doctor Keller and her patient.
**
Ronon moaned. Breathing was difficult because of the painful weight that pressed him to the rubble beneath him. It lay across his back like a heat against his skin where his shirt had torn. With a growl he shifted enough to get his hands under him and turn his head to see what was pinning him to the ground.
A heavy steel roof support entered his line of vision as he craned his neck to one side. It was partly resting on a large chunk of masonry, and he suspected it was only that which had saved him from what would have been a fatal crushing blow had it connected fully with his back. If he could somehow shuffle his way toward that piece of fallen ceiling perhaps he would be able to free himself. Slowly, muscle by muscle he began checking himself for injuries; for anything that might stop him from getting out.
"Ronon…?" Sheppard's faint voice interrupted his darkening thoughts.
"I swear," he grimaced as a thread of pain wound itself around his shoulder when he began to drag himself sideways across debris strewn floor toward the raised end of the beam, "I'm going to hunt him down and tear him apart with my bare hands." Gathering himself against the bite of his injuries, snarling to push the pain away as he moved, he began to worm his way free. "No more stun!"
He heard Sheppard chuckle, and suspected that there was little mirth in the gesture. The chuckle dissolved into a rasping cough, little surprise as there was still so much dust in the air, but still it worried him. He couldn't see his friend to be sure that he was all right.
"You okay?" Sheppard asked, as if he could tell what he was thinking.
"Think so," he answered, hissing as he scraped his hands on a sharp piece of masonry that lay between him and freedom. "Banged up pretty bad, but I don't think anything's broken. You?"
"Caught my head against something in the main explosion," Sheppard said. "Haven't tried to move much because the room just won't stay still. You know how it is?"
He recognised that Sheppard was using sarcasm to put a brave face on an entirely screwed up situation and worried that his friend was perhaps worse off than he was saying so he redoubled his efforts to extricate himself from beneath the girder. He snarled as he once more caught the raw skin of his back on the rough metal against which he was struggling, and kept in his mind the images of his friends… Teyla suffering and the rest of them trapped… injured, for all he knew bleeding and dying… limb from limb, he promised himself.
"Take it easy, Ronon," Sheppard said quietly against the sounds of Ronon's struggles. "We're trapped under an entire building's worth of rubble. How much worse can it get?"
He paused for a moment and looked over in the direction of Sheppard's voice. He wasn't a superstitious man, but questions like that, he knew, should never be asked when things looked as bleak as they did. "You just had to, didn't you?" he said worriedly and renewed his efforts for freedom.
"No seriously," Sheppard went on, "Michael isn't here. We've gotta be overdue by now. Atlantis will send a team to investigate. They'll get us out, no problem. Even now I'll bet Carter is mobilising a search and rescue team. We'll be fine. What more could there be?"
**
"How many are there?"
Michael strode across the bridge of the cruiser to take the place of one of his hybrids that moved aside for him without a word. His eyes narrowed and he frowned as he read the telemetry coming in from the sensors aimed toward the facility he'd chosen as his preferred site for Teyla to deliver the child.
"Two small teams," another of his men reported what he could now see for himself, "penetrated into the heart of the compound."
"Of course they did." He tilted his head back a little, peering at the sensor readings and tried to pinpoint their exact locations within the base as he also tried to discover which of them were still alive. "I wouldn't expect anything else from Colonel Sheppard and his men."
For many long minutes he stood watching the data scrolling across the screen of his console. Circumstances and timing told him he should just turn the ship around and head to his secondary location, but a shiver of realisation of what had likely happened made him hesitate. He could not risk that someone survived that had seen and understood something that they should not, not when he had taken such care to protect his work. He took in a deep breath… his irritated sigh hissing outward as he considered his options. Even as he began to formulate a contingency, one of his hybrids spoke again.
"Someone is activating the ring of the ancestors."
"They will be going to bring help." The calm in is voice belied the added irritation he felt. It meant he would have to act quickly; would have less time for consideration before he had to proceed. His choices, however, were simple. He could either take action to ensure that there would be nothing left for a rescue team to discover and thus ensure the continued safety of all he had planned, or he could wait and see what unfolded. For all he knew that the choice should have been an easy one to make, he could not help but hesitate to give the order to fire on what was left of the compound.
**
Rodney McKay moaned… certain he was dead… or dying. Definitely dying, because being dead wouldn't hurt quite as much as he did, he was sure of it. He tried to move, and couldn't, at least not without shifting dust and debris from on top of him and he was afraid of what else might be lodged there, keeping him seconds away from death.
On the other hand, choking on the settling dust was just as injurious to his continuing survival… as unlikely as that was. He took a deep breath, and then held it again as the rubble shifted around him. He tried to focus, to remember where he'd been exactly when the roof had fallen in on them and where the others had been. Then he remembered Lorne.
"Major," he whispered as though he didn't dare disturb the area any more with the sound of his voice, but when Lorne didn't answer, he repeated himself in a louder, raspy tone. "Major Lorne?"
The Major still didn't answer and the last thing McKay could remember was that Lorne had been trying to find a way for them to get through the blocked doorway; had called out a warning to him when the explosions had come nearer and then… he swallowed, remembering the cascade of concrete that had swallowed the marine, before taking his own feet out from under him. Finally Rodney opened his eyes.
"Oh God!" he said as his eyes took in the devastation that surrounded him. "Oh God, no."
A sudden thought crossed his mind and he reached up to his ear, to where his radio earpiece should have been, but it had been knocked away by one of the many chunks of masonry. He winced, and touched a sore spot behind his ear, and moaned again as his fingers came away sticky and wet with blood.
"Get a grip, Rodney," he told himself, "think!"
Slowly, carefully he shifted enough to get his elbows under his back, and lever himself into a semi-sitting position. He stifled the sounds of pain as bricks and pieces of concrete and metal shrapnel slipped and skidded over him, and over each other sending puffs of dust into the already laden air. His left arm screamed in protest of his weight, and he felt a trail of blood make its way toward his wrist and he pushed himself to a more upright, sitting position with his other arm. He added that to the inventory of injuries and then continued to look around, visually searching for Major Lorne.
Not that he could see very much. Between the darkness caused by the collapse and the particles of concrete dust it was a surprise to him that he could see as far as he could. Still he had to try. Judging from his own injuries the Major could only possibly be worse.
**
"All right, people, listen up!" Sam called everyone to attention as the members of the rescue team gathered in the Jumper bay. She had decided, after listening to Edison's report, that it would be safer to take the Jumpers. That way, if anything happened, for instance if Michael and his forces arrived, they would have an outside chance of defending themselves while they got their people out.
She looked around as the hum of voices dwindled away. People were gripping P90s as though they were lifelines. The nervous energy filling the bay was a tangible reminder of the fact that her most experienced teams were the ones currently trapped in what was left of Michael's base.
Her eyes drifted over to where Radek was still deep in earnest conversation with a group of engineers. The three men and two women looked weighted down by the body armour she'd insisted everyone wear. They were among many of the Atlantis expedition unused to setting foot off world, and she regretted forcing them outside of their comfort zone, but the truth of it was she knew she needed every able body she could get.
"Everyone," she called again, and this time all eyes turned her way. "From the report that Lieutenant Edison was able to provide, both teams were caught inside the main building when the explosion was triggered, and very few, if any at all, were able to make it beyond the perimeter, in fact, it's a miracle that Edison was able to make it out at all."
"That would be because the explosive charges were set in a ring around the supporting walls," Radek made a circling gesture with his left hand around his right. "Very effective, actually," he went on, "It would have completely devastated the structural integrity of the building, taking out the supporting external walls and letting the building… collapse under its own weight." He had been there, beside her, as Sam had listened to Edison's halting debriefing. "We're almost certainly going to have to put in braces as we work our way into the rubble to get to our people."
Sam nodded. "It's imperative we don't endanger ourselves during the rescue efforts, or put Colonel Sheppard's team in further jeopardy, but at the same time, we're working under time constraints. Firstly we have no idea if, or when, Michael will arrive and from what Colonel Sheppard and the others reported prior to this mission, he has a Wraith cruiser at his disposal. I have no doubts that if he does reach his base and find us there, he'll have no compunction against launching a further attack in order to protect whatever agenda he's working to. Secondly, we can only guess at the kinds of injuries our people will have sustained, or the severity of them. We only know that we need to get them medical attention, and we need to get it to them quickly." She nodded to Doctor Keller who took over instruction from a medical point of view.
"The most important thing I can tell any of you is to try not to move anyone, or to let anyone move too much once you find them," she instructed, "until one of us can make a triage assessment. Hopefully there'll be more walking wounded that we think there'll be," she added, giving Sam the kind of smile that spoke of the doubt that belied her words. "Each team will be equipped with a full field medical kit. This will help the medics who'll be able to move much more quickly if they're not hauling their own kits. We'll be putting spare kits in the Jumpers, make sure you keep adequate supplies, even if that means sending runners."
"And whatever you do," Sam interrupted, repeating herself again, "don't put yourselves in danger. It won't help Sheppard's team if we start having to deal with our own injuries. Let the engineers assess any areas you're not sure of. Questions?"
After a moment or two of silence, she nodded, and ordered her personnel into their assigned Jumpers.
**
Bleeding, the skin newly scraped from his back and the backs of his thighs, Ronon finally managed to find his feet, though not without a good deal of discomfort, which he pushed aside with another growl and shuffled a little unsteadily toward where Sheppard half sat, half lay propped against a pile of rubble. Sheppard was dangerously close to where a number of steel reinforcing rods were exposed on the edge of a concrete block.
The closer Ronon got to Sheppard the deeper the frown on his brow, until at last it found verbal expression as he said, "John…"
Sheppard laughed a little unsteadily, "Now I know it's bad." he said and coughed, as Ronon lowered himself carefully to his knees at his side.
"Try not to move," Ronon told his friend and leaned a little closer to inspect the offending metal spike emerging, a red tipped poker, from Sheppard's shoulder.
"It missed the bone," Sheppard told him, "At least it feels that way," then he winced, and swore loudly as Ronon examined, as gently as he could, the site of the wound.
"I think you're right," he agreed at last.
"You?" Sheppard waved toward him with a tired gesture.
"Don't worry about me," he said, still looking his friend over. He looked pale, a little grey. "We should find you something for the pain."
Sheppard glanced around them both. "Be my guest," he said. At least his wry sense of humour was intact. Ronon might have laughed a little in relief, but a soft creaking sound had his head swivel; searching quickly for the source of the noise, and finally coming to rest on a fallen section of the roof that perched precariously on a crossways beam almost directly above where John was pinned like some specimen butterfly.
"Crap," he said.
"Now you get it," Sheppard told him, mockingly cheerful.
"We have to move you."
"You and I both know there's only one way to do that." Sheppard drew his eyes back to the metal rod sticking out of his shoulder. "And Keller will kill us," he added, "If what's left of the building doesn't get there first.
Growling in frustration, Ronon climbed to his feet and began an almost frantic search of the rubble around them, nearby to where he had ended up trapped under the beam.
"What the hell are you doing?" Sheppard interrupted his angry searching. He sounded tired, resigned, but Ronon wasn't about to give up on his friend just yet. Just as he turned, ready to unleash a tirade about not giving up, and some of the places to which Keller could take herself if she thought he was about to let someone he cares about die under a ton of falling masonry, he spotted the object of his search. It was lying several feet away from either of them, and must have flown from his hand when he fell. As quickly as he could, he crossed to where his weapon lay, and picked it up. He turned it over in his hand to give it a visual inspection and, not that he would have been lost if it had been damaged beyond repair, he felt the warmth of relief spread from the touch of the grip against his palm. It began easing the tension and pain in his muscles. Or perhaps, he thought as he turned back to face Sheppard and raised the weapon in his hand, it was just another rush of adrenaline.
"Ronon…"
Without waiting to hear the protest about to come out of John Sheppard's mouth he squeezed the trigger. He watched the energy from the weapon wrap itself around Sheppard, barely moving him before extinguishing his conscious awareness.
"I promise I'll let you hit me, one time, for free when we're sparring next," he told his unconscious friend, then before he lost his nerve he crossed the room again to kneel beside Sheppard, and in spite of knowing the risk of doing so, fearing the greater risk from above, he took hold of John's shoulder and in one swift motion pulled it from the impaling spike. He took just a moment to tear a wide strip from the bottom if his shirt to make a bandage of sorts. He knew it wasn't clean, but it was better than Sheppard bleeding to death, and anyway, once Atlantis got them out of this mess, Keller's medicine would more than cope with any effects of the dirt, but the creaking from above told him it wouldn't have the opportunity to do that unless they moved.
He barely had Sheppard onto his shoulder, and out of the area, when the huge block of masonry fell, and the shockwave of its impact took his feet from under him again.
**
His concern increased exponentially as he continued to read the incoming sensor telemetry. One of the figures in the room that he knew had contained his data was more than just the faint life reading he saw from the other, and though he could not know exactly who it might have been, an unauthorised access from the terminal had been one of the triggers for his failsafe device. But how much had they seen?
By now there were Lantean life signs swarming all over the mound of broken concrete and damaged buildings that had once been one of his primary bases as they sought to rescue their trapped and wounded.
A flare of anger cut through the concern. They should have stayed away. They should have known the danger in coming after him, after what they had done… with a wry inward laugh, though outwardly stoic he cut off his mental tirade. Or course they would come… and would not leave him alone until they had Teyla… until they believed he was no longer a threat… until he could be of no further use to them. Such was their way and had always been their way.
One carefully placed shot… for just a moment his hand hovered over the console… and rested there, dangerous potential in the flex of his muscles, in the contact of his mind with the ships neural interface.
No. He was not naïve enough to think that by the simple destruction of these people, he would be free of their interference. Others would come, and while Colonel Sheppard and his people were an annoyance, at least they were known to him… at least he could predict their actions, and perhaps, use them as they had him. The thought did not, however, entirely quell his concern for what they had seen. His plan must succeed and he could not allow them too much of an insight into the steps he meant to take to ensure his survival, and dominance over the Pegasus galaxy.
Quietly lowering his hand to the console, he let his mind slip into unity with the cruiser and adjusted the target lock, on the ship's weapons.
"Monitor communications on the planet's surface," he instructed. "Summon me immediately there is any chatter concerning my research."
He did not need to wait for a response to his instructions, well aware that he had been heard, and would be obeyed. He turned on his heels and headed for the cruiser's newly installed laboratory. Whatever happened, whatever his decision in the end, they would have to move again. He needed to ensure that Teyla and the child were well enough to make another hyperspace jump.
**
The first thing Sheppard noticed, besides the persistent throbbing behind his eyes, was that he was lying flat. The second was that his shoulder was roughly bound and hurt like hell… and thirdly…
"You didn't even check to see if it was on stun!" he protested, trying to sit up.
"Get over it," Ronon quipped back, and for a moment the Satedan's almost light hearted response caught him off guard, until he noticed a small shaft of light filtering through the dust that hadn't been there before.
"Is that…?"
"Yep," Ronon finally turned around from staring impatiently at a section of the collapsed wall through which the light was pushing its way in. "Arrived about twenty minutes ago. They say it's slow going because the engineering team have to put in supports as they go."
"You know this…?" he must have hit his head harder than he thought. Either that or he was confused through loss of blood from where Ronon had damn near ripped his shoulder off.
Ronon held up the radio, "Managed to get it to work for all of a few minutes before it shorted out or something." He tossed the useless piece of equipment his way and Sheppard instinctively raised his injured arm to try and catch it. The movement sent a new wave of fire through the whole of his body and he couldn't help but cry out, bringing Ronon quickly to his side. "I told 'em to get a message to Jennifer. She'll be one of the first through when they can. Don't worry."
Under normal circumstances he might have teased the big man for the use of the doctor's first name or at the very least for the serious level of concern he was showing, but truth be told, he appreciated the gesture more than he would ever let on. "With you watching my back," he answered quietly, "how could I worry?"
"Yeah, right."
He could see that he hadn't fooled Ronon, not even a little, and didn't much like to think how close the two of them had come on this occasion. He would have said something more, but Ronon shook his head.
"Rest," the big Satedan told him, letting a hand come to rest against his uninjured shoulder.
**
A small sound escaped her as she held her breath against the intense discomfort of the needle he carefully withdrew from her abdomen. Not until he caught hold of her sleeve to bring her hand to cover the swab against the injection site did she let out the breath, in a rush that became his name.
"Michael...!"
"I told you," he turned away to set down the equipment in his hand, before turning back to look down at her; to shift her hand away from the swab with barely the whisper of a touch, and make sure that he had been careful enough in his treatment of both of them. "Because of the interference of your friends, we must make another hyperspace jump, and I will not allow the subspace radiation to harm him."
"We are fine," she told him, starting to sit up.
"Wait."
-wait- -wait-
The telepathic echo of his instruction pushed against her mind, and halted her movement. She slapped her hand against the side of the table on which he had her, and growled at him. "Don't!"
"If you refuse to take sufficient care of yourself I shall be forced to use the restraints again," he looked unwaveringly into her eyes, as seriously as he had ever done so, and it did not take the growing mental connection between them for her to see that he would make good on his threat. Slowly she made herself relax, including the fists she'd made of her hands. After what seemed to be an eternity of waiting he nodded to her and presented his leather-clad left arm to assist her. For a moment of defiance, she struggled against her late pregnancy to sit up by herself, but after only a short time, and not being one to engage in a futile activity, she reached out and closed her hand over his offered arm and with his assistance brought herself to a sitting position.
"You are hungry." It was not a question. He caught her elbow as she began to step down from the height of the table, and steadied her.
"Yes," she answered, and Michael glanced toward the door. She knew; could sense him reaching out to summon the hybrid he had assigned as an escort to her from outside of the door.
It was his compromise. She had protested his keeping her locked away when there was nowhere she could go, and little she could do. Since then, to be fair to him, and she could be nothing other, the quarters he had given her were comfortable, and the care she had received was excellent, but the irony of it, of being followed everywhere by his soldiers, did not escape her notice. She felt as he must have on any of the occasions he had enjoyed the hospitality of Atlantis.
With almost a start she realised that he was watching her, waiting, and she looked up to find his head tilted at an almost thoughtful angle as he regarded her.
"It bothers you?" he asked. She shook her head and by way of explanation he continued, "There are many places aboard this ship that could present a danger to you. I only wish to ensure your safety."
"And to be certain that I did not try to escape."
"That as well," he admitted solemnly, "at least in the beginning."
"What has changed, Michael?" And there had been a change, inside of her as well as from him. Her anger remained, as did the fear she felt for the people of the Pegasus galaxy, her people… her son… She dropped a hand to rest on the upper side of her curving belly and felt his eyes shift to take in her movement. The expression in his eyes, for a split second only, showed a depth of concern that surprised her, unsettled the belief in his only motive being one of using her child to further his cause. She felt his concern and for a moment felt protected, almost… safe.
"I realised that if you are to trust me, as will become necessary," he looked up from her belly to find her eyes again, "then I must demonstrate that trust in you also."
But a war between Michael and the Wraith could mean only one thing to the humans and she knew that there would be few who did not become casualties, either of Wraith cullings, Michael's experiments or they would fall to the effects of the Hoffan drug. The weight of it crushed in on her fragile peace and sent a wave of indignant anger flowing through her again; to think that any part of her could be used in such a way.
"You think I will not do everything in my power to ensure I get away and keep my child safe from your cause!" she said harshly, emotional pain finding its way to her face to narrow her eyes and curl her lip like some cornered animal. "My friends will be here soon, and they will rescue me… rescue us."
Michael took in a deep breath, regarding her as a veil of sadness began to descend over his eyes. He closed them in a long, slow blink, and then swallowed before looking at her again and telling her softly, "They aren't coming, Teyla."
With another sigh, and looking away from her abruptly, he turned on his heel and started toward the door, his steps rapid and heavy against the floor of the ship.
"What do you mean?" she demanded, frowning and turning in his direction.
Michael paused in the doorway to turn his head toward the hybrid soldier waiting there. "Take her to find food. Ensure she eats well…"
"Tell me!"
"…and then show her to her quarters so that she can rest."
He started to move away again, striding down the corridor, his pace soon putting a greater distance between them. She hurried toward the door, meaning to go after him, to get answers, but the soldier stepped into her path, blocking her way.
"What have you done to them!" she called out to Michael, standing on tiptoe and holding on to the side of the doorway to keep her balance while she looked over the shoulder of the man standing in her way. Michael did not even slow his step, and soon rounded the corner out of sight.
**
Sheppard watched as Ronon suddenly jumped backwards, and almost tripped over a small mound of fallen brickwork as a shower of dust exploded from the space from which, for the last several hours, the sounds of tapping and scraping had been teasing them with thoughts of freedom. His head was pounding, and he felt cold and a little clammy, but he was determined to meet whoever came through with as cheerful a countenance as he could muster.
"Clear!"
"We're clear!" Shouts from new voices aided in his conspiracy of the lies he meant to tell the doctors when they finally came to him. "Get braces in that doorway, and quickly!"
"Well it's about time," he quipped, as the first of the rescue team made it through the door they'd created – a medic that immediately began to head for the nearby Satedan.
"Forget about me," Ronon growled, and turning the man by the shoulder, pointed him his way.
"It's all right, Ronon," Keller followed her medic through the door, and turned to come to his side. "Let him see to your needs, I'll take care of John."
"About time," he protested again as Keller reached his side, "He tell you he shot me?"
"I'm sure he meant well," she said, starting to make a careful examination, first of his head, and then of his shoulder.
"Meant well?" he said, wincing as she unwound the bandage, and replaced it with a medical swab. "He shot me!"
"Take it easy, Colonel." She finished her assessment and waved over a stretcher. "We're going to get you out of here."
"I don't need that thing, I can wa—"
"You let them take care of you or I swear," Ronon pushed away the medic that was dealing with the cuts and scrapes he had to his arms and back and came over to where Keller was trying to restrain him from getting to his feet, "I will shoot you again."
"Well," he started, looking between the determination etched onto Ronon's face, and the look of concern on Doctor Keller's, "since you make such a persuasive argument…"
With a sigh, he lay back and sighed while he allowed the medical team to lift him onto a stretcher and begin to carry him away… and somewhere between the dusty confines of the room that had all but been a tomb to him and Ronon, and the clear air of the outside of the research facility, he closed his eyes.
**
Replete, her belly no longer churning with the nagging ache of hunger, Teyla shifted on the cot, restless still. She lay on her side and cupped her cheek in one hand, the other rested lightly on the ever lowering swell of the child she carried. It would not be much longer, she knew, but this time that was not the source of her growing concern.
She had barely noticed it at first, and sought now to pinpoint the memory of when she had first felt it. It had been masked in the discomfort of her need for food, and before that, a background hum to their hyperspace travel, but now that neither was keeping the feeling from her, she felt it more and more clearly, and it was mounting.
With a sigh, she began to get up, pacing before she realised and could make herself stop and sit once more; to try and still her mind as she had always done. It was more difficult aboard Michael's ship. The part of her that was of the Wraith reached out to the neural interface the ship possessed, not quite sentient, but close enough to be inherently disturbing to her human sensibilities. That too had been growing more noticeable to her the longer she had been aboard and in proximity to Michael.
She closed her eyes on that thought, breathing deeply and steadily and began a count of her heartbeats, slowing now as she brought herself closer to a meditative state. Bodily weight and sensation lifted, leaving her feeling lighter and more energised than in many a day. He consciously shut her out, she knew, at least most of the time, but she knew the pathways wherein he dwelled. Another breath and she reached out toward the deep unease that sat in the back of her mind, an ever present echo… pushing…
-Countdown… failsafe… how much had they seen…?-
She gasped and her eyes flew open. Thrust so suddenly back into awareness she felt dizzy and nausea crept up to leave her trembling, sweating, and unable to move even as she tried to rise…
**
Michael stiffened and turned his head suddenly away from watching the ever more worrying readings from the planet. With a long blink he tilted his head up and to the side, his right hand hovered over the console that bore the command code he had just entered.
**
… Pushing herself to her feet she staggered forward before stumbling to sink to her knees. She tried to bring her friends to mind, to say their names. They were here, and trapped – in trouble, if they were even still alive. She tried to grasp the very real edge of the danger they were in and use it to steady her own reeling balance.
She did not even register that the door opened, nor the tread of heavy booted feet until the hand closed around her arm, all but lifted her to her feet and turned her back toward the cot where she was, albeit somewhat gently, forced to lie down once more.
She fought the hand that pressed against her shoulder. "I am fine. Let me go," she commanded as forcefully as she could and opened her eyes to fix the hybrid with an angry stare.
Slowly he withdrew, melting as some shadow into the organic darkness of the bulkhead and Teyla was able to sit up again, breathing deeply as she tried to make sense of all she now knew, and the insight it gave her… and to push away the growing fear of everything it might mean.
**
Huddled into the back of one of the Puddle Jumpers that had been commandeered as the centre of the field hospital Carter couldn't help but feel relief at the colour that had returned to Colonel Sheppard's face. The doctor was still adamant about not letting him up for the foreseeable future – and rightly so, for the injury to his impaled shoulder had been a serious one even before Ronon had saved his life by pulling him from under the falling masonry – and he had been unable to give her any more information about what had happened than had Lieutenant Edison, but at least he was alive, and in relatively good humour. At least for now, she thought, as she watched his eyes darting across the view that could be seen from the open rear Jumper compartment.
"Let them do their job, John," she said, trying to give him some small measure of comfort. "You can do us all more good if you concentrate on following doctor's orders and getting well. There's no telling when we're going to need you."
"Where would I go?" he asked, rattling his IV line against the pole.
She shook her head, unconvinced by his attempt at innocence. "I'm serious, Colonel. I know what you're thinking, but there's nothing you can do. We're pulling… people out of the rubble as quickly as we safely can—"
"Bodies, you mean," he corrected her, uncharacteristically serious for a moment. "McKay?" She shook her head. "Major Lorne?"
Again she shook her head. "No news is good news, right?" she said.
"Last thing I heard was Lorne," Sheppard shook his head, "McKay'd found some kind of… data terminal or something and—"
"We'll find them, John." She reached out to squeeze his arm. "This is not your fault."
Frowning deeply he sat up and argued, "No. This was my party. I brought them here. I should have known Michael would have something like this in place. He—"
"And then what?" she asked him, challenging his self recriminations, "You'd have done something differently? You made a command decision – the right decision. You were looking for Teyla. You believed she was here and in peril."
"I don't suppose—?"
She started to shake her head, but turned as a member of the rescue team hurried into the Jumper's rear compartment, closely followed by the imposing figure of Ronon, up and about in spite of the cuts and bruises he'd suffered.
"Colonel Carter," he said breathlessly, "You need to see this…"
**
The shadows from the thin beam of light made his situation seem even more bleak that he had first believed… and he knew there was little hope. Digging around in the ruined masonry he'd managed to locate his fallen companion, but even after hours of dragging chunks of concrete and shattered brickwork from on top of Major Lorne, nothing he could do would rouse the unconscious marine.
Tentatively he reached out and shook him by the shoulder, trying to wake him, speaking in more desperate tones as each moment ticked past.
"Come on, Evan… it is Evan, isn't it?" he reached out, pulled the flashlight closer and visually examined him before he dared to move him much more than the slight jostling his shaking had caused.
Blood seeped from a deep gash on the Major's forehead that stretched across his temple and disappeared into his hairline. His left arm was bent at the kind of angle that could only possibly mean it was broken, and from the combined weight of the many chunks of fallen ceiling he'd pulled off the man, Rodney suspected there would be several crushing injuries that he couldn't see.
"At least you're breathing," he drew his hand away from where he felt for Lorne's pulse, watching the shallow rise and fall of the man's chest before he added, "and that's a good thing."
McKay sat back on his heels, and took a moment to adjust the makeshift bandage he had tied tightly around his own arm. It had already started to soak through.
"They will have missed us by now, right?" he asked, even though he knew he wouldn't get an answer. "Sent a rescue…? We've been, what… hours now… at least… say… five, seven?"
A shift of dust drifted down across the beam of light and settled onto the Major's already dust covered body armour. At first McKay did not register it as anything other than the periodic settling of dust. It had been happening on and off throughout the time they'd been trapped, but when it happened again, with an accompanying sound of scraping and tapping he looked up sharply, and had to make a grab for a nearby beam to steady himself against the accompanying rush of dizziness.
"What's that…?" he looked up again toward where he thought the sound originated until he realised that what he heard was the sound of a team from Atlantis finally arrived to get them out. Afterwards it was a reflex for him to start screaming at the top of his lungs to let them know that they were there.
**
"Hold it…! Wait! Stop!"
Carter clambered over the top of the semi cleared area to which she'd been called by Captain Vega's team. They'd finally been lucky and found a possible way in to the most damaged part of the structure. It had meant putting up a block and tackle to lift away some of the larger roof sections, and steel reinforced blocks. It would also mean they'd have to affect a rescue from above – if there was anyone still alive in the few pockets of space left between the broken rooms of the structure that the scanners had identified – but at least now they had a way in.
She supported herself against the wire cable of the winch as the members of the rescue team came gradually to a stop and the sound died away to near silence.
"Do you hear that?" she tilted her head, listening harder for the cry she thought she had heard before.
"Down here!"
She did not wait for anyone to confirm that they had heard it too, simply scrambled to the edge of the exposed area and called reassuring down into the rubble, before turning around and firing rapid orders at the rescue team who hurried to brace the already excavated area and fight their way down to those trapped beneath.
**
She felt his recognition of her presence and he turned before she even crossed part way toward him on the bridge. A deep frown settled onto his face. Close behind her the hybrid that had followed her took a faltering step or two, but stayed within easy reach. She could almost feel him too, more than in the way one feels when too closely followed. It was a sensation that did not sit easy in her stomach.
"You should not be here," Michael said to her in the soft but authoritative tones he always used when speaking to her. In spite of herself she came to a halt, but did not turn to leave.
He tilted his head up and back, regarding her, examining her. Momentarily she felt the pressure she had come to recognise as his contact, mind to mind. It surrounded her, moved through her as though he stood in the same place and around the two of them the bridge, with the rapid exchanges of information, warnings that passed from one hybrid member of his crew to the next, faded from her awareness, heard only as an echo.
She took a deep breath, pushing back against the mental contact and everything sharpened into focus again. No more than a second had passed, though she swayed with more fatigue than the short walk from what Michael called 'her quarters' to the bridge should have caused.
"You should rest," he told her, beginning to turn back to his console even as the mental push repeated his instruction, more deeply.
-rest-
"You do not need to do this," she answered. "They are no threat to you. They are trapped and hurt, and by the time that rescue reaches them – if they still live – we can be far from here and it will be too late." She pressed a hand to her belly as the child inside of her kicked suddenly, as though he felt her agitation.
"It is regrettable," he said as his hand came to rest lightly on the console, "and more than a little inconvenient. What is the human phrase? 'Better the devil you know?'"
"They cannot harm you."
"On the contrary. There is only one of your team who I know is capable of having activated my technology – albeit incorrectly – and I cannot allow him to survive and risk his remembering even the slightest piece of information he might have seen."
"Michael—" Quickly she stepped forward, reaching for his shoulder to turn him around and look him in the eyes as she tried to reason with him. She had not taken even two steps before a hand closed roughly around her wrist, a restraining arm was wrapped around her waist pulling her away. She gave a barely audible cry of surprise.
Through the mental link they shared she felt his anger flare briefly as she watched him turn to see the way she was held. His eyes bore into his soldier and the man recoiled, letting go of her so suddenly she almost stumbled, and reached out to catch the edge of a nearby console to regain her balance. Before she had, Michael was in front of her and grasped her forearms as though he did not trust it to support her.
"Michael, please," she began, "they cannot har—"
Mid sentence she stopped, and trembled as a nauseating rush of familiar dark coldness deep within assaulted her, and of themselves her fingers became claws that wrapped almost desperately around Michael's arms.
"Teyla?" his frown became one of deep concern. He stepped closer and, she thought, shifted his balance as though he were about to lift her into his arms, to carry her from the bridge.
She tried to push herself away from him, struggle against the restraint of his grip as her colour continued to fade. She looked up into his face and whispered, "They are coming…"
**
"Easy… easy…" Carter crooned as the engineers tugged on one pulley after another to lift a large section of rubble from the hole they had opened. They were almost through. Just a few more, smaller pieces of concrete and they would have the space below sufficiently exposed to allow a rescue party to go down and lift the injured away to safety. Equally though, if anything went wrong, if but one of the part of the rubble slipped and fell against the barely braced sides of the shaft they'd dug it would sent the remaining debris crashing down to cover their ingress and they would have to begin again.
The crackle of her radio made her jump, and Lieutenant Anston's desperate voice filled her with dread.
"Colonel Carter, this is Anston, come in!" He barely waited for a response before he repeated the call, this time with more information. "Colonel, we're taking fire! Respond please!"
"Carter. What do you mean, taking fire?" Sam stepped away from the edge of the pit to begin scrambling down the side of the mound.
"The Wraith—" a burst of P90 fire, interspersed with the sickening sound of Wraith weapons cut off the rest of his sentence and was only made worse by the occasional cry of a fallen marine, or the intermittent whine of the propulsion system of a Wraith Dart.
"Dial the gate," Carter ordered, cursing inwardly at her own lack of foresight. "Get out of there."
"We can't!" Anston yelled over the sound of his own P90. "They came through the gate! Colonel you have to get out of there… the Darts are headed your way."
"Damn it!" Colonel Carter turned and began to scramble toward the top of the mound of debris once more. "Captain Vega," she yelled toward the woman in command of the military team supporting the engineers as they worked to uncover those trapped beneath. "Fan out, defend this area. We have to get our people out of there and we have hostiles headed our way?"
"Hostiles?" Vega shouted back.
"Wraith!" she answered before once more keying the transmit button on her radio. "All teams, this is Carter. Fall back! I repeat, fall back. Head for the Jumpers. Radek, as soon as you have everyone, engage the cloaks."
"Understood, Colonel," his calm voice responded. She couldn't help thinking that he, of all of them, had anticipated this eventuality and was not in the slightest bit surprised by it and nor, she cursed herself again, should she have been.
**
"How many?"
Michael freed himself from her grasp and let go of her before he turned to question the hybrid who had taken his place at the tactical console.
"Seven Darts and ground forces… more are coming."
Teyla moved with him as he stepped forward to where he could more easily see the view screen. "The Hive will not be far behind," he said and then asked, "How close were the Lanteans to rescuing those trapped within the chamber?"
"They continue to try," the hybrid answered, and Teyla could not help but feel a surge of warmth in knowing that those from Atlantis continued to care for their own, even against the increasingly difficult odds presented by the arrival of the Wraith. She turned her head to regard Michael as another wash of irritation momentarily disturbed his almost resigned calm.
"You friends are nothing if not persistent," he told her in clipped tones, "but it will do them no good. They should accept their losses and move on before they are over-run by the Wraith."
"You know that they will not," she said, lifting her chin defiantly.
"No matter," he turned his head then, looking into her eyes, stepping no closer, but surrounding her, possessively, none the less. "The outcome will be the same."
-outcome will be the same- -will be the same- -be the same-
He left barely a heartbeat of silence that screamed at her to demand of him what he meant, but she knew he would not answer. "Put the moon between the ship and the surface of the planet," he instructed his hybrids, "Ensure that when the Hive arrives we remain masked by it." Then he turned his head to regard her once more and commanded, "Come with me," and she, together with several of his soldiers turned and left the bridge.