Floating
What did Sam experience out there, way out there, in deep space? Camelot, Episode 20, Season 9.
Disclaimer: These are not my characters. I'm just borrowing. There is no profit involved, unfortunately.
Sam was almost there, almost done, just waiting for the control crystal to initialize. Feeling the rumble beneath her feet, the surge of the supergate firing up. Oh, God! Too late, too damned late! Losing the magnetic lock, thick fingers unable to grasp, unable to hold on, and now...
Floating. In the frigid, infinite void of space...floating.
Moving away, further away. Eyes taking in the now-gleaming, immense, perfect diamond circle. The huge, blinding flush, the rippling blue shimmer. Four Ori ships, slipping through, so close! The details of the metallic silver, the blue orbs, gliding by. No escape, can't move, can hardly think...
Beyond help, beyond helping, staring...and floating.
Knowing vast numbers of people who refused to bend the knee have been, more will be, wiped out, instantly, by the wave of a hand or a spoken word or the thud of a glowing staff on the ground. Wanting to stop the madness, the wanton, needless, unprovoked destruction of life. Feeling the rising rage...
But still floating...just floating.
A whole armada of ships – earth, Asgard, Lucian Alliance, together, united, a stand against evil. The brilliant luminosity of Ori ships as they fire up weapons. The fervent but ineffectual golden darts defending, seeking their targets, but repelled by Ori shields, answered by beamed, mighty white flumes striking out, destroying with ease. The golden lights, the orange fireballs, the dazzling fireworks of death. Ships, bodies, exploding, consumed by the fiercely desolate beauty of unbounded space. The void swallowing all noise, all screams, in a silent holocaust.
Feeling the nauseous grip of impotence, weeping bitter tears...alone...and floating.
In the fragile womb of the spacesuit, mere inches of protection. What if a piece of debris...? A tiny tear? Oxygen low, must stay awake, wait for rescue...
Or become a lifeless speck...floating.
Victorious, the Ori mother ships slide away, deeper into the galaxy, those inside rejoicing in the carnage. On to conquer new worlds, to harvest countless souls, to fuel the growing and all-consuming power. Blessed, blessed, yes, blessed be the Ori!
Drifting...barely alive...floating.