DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
This is a little different from what I`ve written for Atlantis before. A little darker, a little angstier, and a little... well, a few other things, too.
I`m not posting a summery because that would give away too much. So this is all you get:
John, while supervising an archaeology team, runs afoul of an artifact that turns his world inside out and upside down.
"Okay, seriously, what did we do to warrant this crap assignment?" John groused.
"I believe that Doctor Weir said that our team was next on a rotation for this duty, Colonel Sheppard, and that it would be good for us to experience a simple, peaceful mission for a change," Teyla said.
"I'm usually able to talk us out of this kind of thing," John whined. "Nothing worked this time. Elizabeth wouldn't budge."
Teyla smiled softly. "This planet is quite beautiful. Would it not be possible to simply enjoy the respite from battle?"
"Hey, I'm all for taking a break from the usual recon and whatnot, and if the geek squad is right the Wraith haven't been here since they wiped everyone out—no people, no reason to come back. But couldn't there at least be a beach or something instead just a bunch of ruins and some trees? We get enough of this on every other mission."
Cocking her head to one side slightly, Teyla offered up a tiny smile of hope. "If the Wraith truly believe this planet to be void of human life this planet could be a viable backup for the Alpha Site," Teyla pointed out.
"I know, but, again, there's a difference between scouting for Beta Sites and babysitting Earth's archaeological elite," John replied.
Teyla bit back a comment about the notable exception of one Doctor Daniel Jackson who had been in an ill-timed coma—though Teyla honestly could not think of a good time to be in a coma—when the Daedalus left Earth with the Lantian Senior Staff and the new compliment of scientists and military types.
Elizabeth had sung the praises of the archaeologist, his brilliant mind, his compassion, his quick but dry wit, his patience, and (one girls poker night where too many glasses of Athosian ale had been thrown back) his beautiful body and soulful blue eyes, and Teyla had been curious about both the man and the paradoxical knowledge he held. Battle-trained and scarred, a tactical mind that, while more adept at negotiation and peace, could switch to war in a heartbeat. A scientist who knew of cultures and people so far removed from Teyla's own life that she longed to hear all the fantastic details. And, to top it off, he was also a former Ancestor twice over, though only briefly.
However, as much as Teyla wanted to meet Doctor Daniel Jackson, and Elizabeth wanted her friend and ally to join her on Atlantis, John had made it very clear that he did not want to hear another word about the brilliant archaeologist.
If she had felt suicidal Teyla would have said something to John about his obvious jealousy but, considering he had a P-90 in his hands and, considering his current mood, Teyla decided that it would be wise to hold her tongue on all things that could potentially be tied to Daniel Jackson.
Unfortunately the fact that they were currently supervising an archaeological team made talk of Daniel Jackson and his expertise fairly prevalent. He was something of a celebrity, it seemed, to the other archaeologists. Not to mention that he had trained more than half of them in off-world protocols and other things that were necessary for civilians to deal with the military effectively, which, while helpful for John, was also a reminder of the mythic man that seemed to be all that anyone talked about of late.
"All I want right now is to get away from these dirt-covered scientists," John said, tearing Teyla away from her musings. "Major Lorne is being released from the Infirmary today, McKay and Zelenka are futzing with something they know nothing about, and there is a wild animal terrorizing your people on the Mainland that Halling wants us to take a look into it since the Athosian hunting parties haven't had any luck hunting it down."
Though she wasn't entirely sure what futzing was, Teyla nodded. "You do have responsibilities back on Atlantis, this is true. However, Major Lorne is healing well and will be back to duty in only a few days, and you can see him as soon as we return to Atlantis. Doctor Weir assured us that she was going to keep an extra close eye on Doctors McKay and Zelenka. And Ronan is on the Mainland with Sergeants Livingstrom and Ames hunting the beast," she reminded him. "If there are any problems that require your attention Atlantis will contact us immediately," she added when he didn't look altogether convinced that he wasn't shirking his duties back home by being on another planet half a galaxy away with scientists who were getting excited over things that, she knew, to him, looked a lot like rocks.
"Teyla, are you trying to tell me to chill out?" John asked, his expression and tone letting his teammate know that he was more amused than anything else.
Smiling serenely Teyla shrugged.
John was about to speak again when his radio crackled to life. "Colonel Sheppard," one of the archaeologists—John honestly couldn't remember which one it was, nor did he really care—called over the radio, "we've found some caves about five minutes due south of the ruins. You said to let you know if we found anything like this so you could check it out first."
Sighing, John rubbed his hand down his face. Though he had to give the archaeologist credit for following orders—many of the science teams would have just gone right in, heedless of the potential for danger, their attention only on what could be just beyond their reach—John still wished he was anywhere but M7P-286. "I'm on my way. No one goes inside until I've cleared the caves," John replied over the radio. He also had to, begrudgingly, give the archaeologist credit for telling him the direction and approximate distance he should expect to go; a lot of science teams that John had worked with would just say that they had found something and to come quick, forgetting that, though John and the other military members of the Atlantis expedition were good at their jobs, they weren't psychic.
"Do you wish for me to assist you?" Teyla asked. To be honest, though she was enjoying the respite from war, she was growing slightly restless.
"No. Stay here. Keep an eye on the 'Gate," John said. He sighed again. "I hate archaeology," he muttered as he headed south toward the caves.
It was less than a three-minute walk from the ruins to the caves, and when John got there he found three archaeologists waiting outside. "This is the cave system you found?" John frowned, examining the mouth of the 'cave' carefully. "The people of Munchkin-Land would have a hard time standing up in there."
"We shone a light inside. The ceiling gets higher a few feet in," one of the archaeologists, Doctor Wu, John remembered, said.
"Oh. Good," John said. "You didn't go inside, did you?" he asked, watching the archaeologists carefully for any hint of a lie.
"No, sir," the man who had contacted John on the radio, Doctor Brandt, John recalled, said. "Doctor Paretsky discovered the cave while we were working our way out from the ruins and we tried to get as much light inside as possible to see if it was worth looking around in at all. There are some things that we would like to check out, but, well, we all know what can happen if we just go into an alien cave without someone checking it out first. When we were training for off-world clearance at the SGC Doctor Jackson was very clear on the protocols for situations like this."
"Of course he was," John muttered. "Alright. Stay put. I'll be in touch," he said before heading into the cave.
John moved through the cave slowly, the flashlight of his P-90 the only source of light, the cave being more of a tunnel than anything else, and once he went around the first few curves the daylight became nothing but a memory. Every so often he would find an artefact that he was sure would mean more giddy geekasms, but so far he hadn't seen anything that indicated anything or anyone had been in the tunnel for years, at least a couple of decades, John figured, possibly more, though it was hard to tell based solely on the thickness of the dust that blanketed every surface. Maybe the guys outside could CSI: Pegasus something out of it, but the Air Force had never trained him in anything like that. And, really, all he cared about was that there hadn't been activity in the tunnel of late.
The ground was growing progressively uneven and rocky, and John was finding it more and more difficult to keep his balance. Every few feet he stumbled over an unseen rock or slipped in the loose gravel, often finding himself reaching out for a nearby wall to help stabilize himself.
After stabilizing himself on the side wall John got on his radio, having gone as far as he could, the tunnel having collapsed up ahead leaving John wondering about structural integrity rather than hostiles.
"Brandt, Paretsky, Wu. This is Sheppard. The tunnel dead-ends about half a mile in, but it is secure and chock full of artefacts. Watch your footing. Over."
John waited a minute, then, after getting no response, he decided to head back toward the entrance, having been in many structures and cave systems that interfered with radio signals. There hadn't been any signs of interference upon first glance at the planet, but John knew that that didn't mean anything. He tried to raise the archaeologist on the radio a few times on his way back out, but, again, he got nothing.
When John made it out of the cave and found that, not only were the three PhD's gone, but all of their equipment as well—and John knew how heavy some of that stuff was and how difficult to transport over uneven terrain most of those cases were. They had had to bring most of that stuff through on the FRED—the strange acronym that John still didn't understand clearly emblazoned on the large storage-and-transport device—and Ronan had had to join them for a few hours to help lug a lot of the gear around as it ended up being too heavy and cumbersome for any normal-sized person to carry over any significant distance (meaning, in truth, more than a few yards) without taking long breaks to rest.
Activating his radio again, John began calling for anyone to respond, but no one answered him.
Cursing aloud John began walking toward the ruins, the weak hope that his people were there the only thing keeping him from immediately leaping to the theory that a Wraith Dart had swept everyone he was on M7P-286 to protect. He knew that if that was the case it was unlikely that Teyla, Brandt, Wu, or Paretski, as well as Doctors Donaldson, Jones, Jang and Wilson who were at the ruins would ever been seen again. The Wratih were catching on to the fact that the Lantian settlers knew how to track them through the Stargate system, but only if they didn't go through a 'Gate in between the pick-up planet and their home base. Rondey and Zelenka had all but mastered tracking through one Stargate, but adding even one other brought so many variables into the equation that there was just too much time lapsing between the abductions and any good guess at where the Wraith had taken their people.
There was no one at the ruins, no sign that there had been anyone there in ages. The only footprints that John could detect in the fresh mud were from John's own standard issue boots, and the trail only led from the caves to where he was standing at that exact moment in the middle of the circle of ruins.
"What the hell is going on here?" John said aloud.
Though he expected it, the lack of response was disheartening.
After going over every inch of the area that the science teams had been in—despite their desperate pleas for nothing to be touched or left out of place, their equipment had left serious imprints on the ground—and finding no sign of anyone having been on the planet in the past few hours, John, confused and more than a little worried, double-timed it back to the Stargate and dialled Atlantis.
The Stargate began to dial in, and Chuck called out the standard announcement of incoming wormhole to get the attention of whoever was in charge of the Control Room at the moment. Daniel came out of his office and ordered the shield raised—there were no teams off-world at the moment, the stand down order from Earth having essentially grounded both the facility in the Milky Way Galaxy and the one in the Pegasus Galaxy—but that couldn't stop people from dialling in.
The plume of the unstable event horizon burst forth before regulating itself. Chuck immediately put up the shield and turned his attention to the laptop that recorded whether anything was coming through the wormhole or not. "Uh… sir? You may want to take a look at this," Chuck said, vacating his chair to allow Daniel to sit in front of the computer screen. "What do we do? I mean, has this ever happened before?" he asked.
Daniel shook his head. "Get a full security squadron to the Gateroom. Now!" he ordered and Chuck immediately complied, the security forces spilling into the Gateroom, weapons raised and aimed at the active Stargate. "Lower the shield," Daniel ordered, much more calmly this time, as he moved to descend the stairs down to the main level of the Gateroom. Chuck did so, and a few seconds later a very familiar man walked through the event horizon.
Upon seeing all the weapons that were trained on him, the man shouted, "What the hell is going on here?"
Off to one side Colonel Lorne fired off one shot with a Zat gun, hitting the newcomer with perfect accuracy.
End of Chapter One
This was my annual birthday present to myself. I`ve been out of the game for a while and I`m trying to get back into the swing of things here and on my livejornal (which isn`t much right now, though there are some pics and stories that have also been posted here that I`ve reposted there. Eventually the adult content of stories (like this one, possibly, and CONNECTIONS and another epic I`m working on that needs a new title—those will go there while this site gets the T rated versions. Anyway... I`m 24 today. I took a page from Martin Gero`s book and gave the planet (moon, actually, which is why it`s M not P) my initials and birthdate. M72-P86. Manic seventh-month-second-day Penguin (nineteen)eighty-six. It also works with my actual initials. My beta`s, too.
Anyway, I`ve decided to post this in the hopes that it will bring back my Atlantis muse, who has taken a decidedly different passion lately in Glee and The Good Wife and everything Aaron Sorkin`s ever put on television. My muse, apparently, has eclectic tastes, just like me.