Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Stargate Atlantis, or anything else you recognise.
Author's Note: Hey! So, if you got an alert from me, and expected a Supernatural story... sorry! This little thing took me under a week to write - which is the shortest amount of time any chaptered fanfic story has taken me. Granted, it was a week I could have used for exam revision, or even for writing the self-reflexive papers due in two days that I haven't started yet, but this would just not leave me alone! It was freaking addictive, like the show (it only took me a week to watch all four seasons - be proud!)
Anyways, as you can tell, this is my first ever Stargate Atlantis fic, and I'm really proud. If you don't know me, you soon will, and you'll soon realize, if you haven't already, that I like to blab on a lot. As in, A LOT.
That being said, here's my latest offering. And for all my Supernatural fanfic fans, I am still writing them, it's just that this one would not go away!
IN MEMORIUM
Chapter 1: A Lost Hero
The Wraith Dart hurtled through the outer layers of the small planet's atmosphere, its pointed tip a bright orange as it moved too fast from space. It was already smoking, losing control as it all but dropped out of the sky, the pilot within desperate to keep the alien technology steady.
A sudden explosion rocked the very air, and the pilot within the Dart was suddenly very glad the cock pit was covered by its opaque shield. He didn't really fancy watching the blast come his way as the Hive ship he had just destroyed finally erupted. He was having a hard enough time concentrating as it was.
In the cockpit, Lt. Colonel John Sheppard ignored the sweat dripping down his temple, couldn't afford to wipe it away and lose grip on the shaking controls. The Dart was heating up, going too fast, he knew it. He was a pilot, he knew exactly how too fast he was going. One more time he pulled on the jammed joy stick, pulled as hard as he could.
He really didn't want to crash at this speed.
"Come on!" he cried, pulling with what strength he had left.
His muscles strained – they had already been tired from a bullet wound, a long day and a difficult rescue before he had even gotten in the Dart. His hands, burning with the effort of keeping them closed, threatened to slip from the controls and send him spiralling out of control. But somehow, some way, after countless attempts, the joy stick finally moved, and he pulled back, desperate to slow the Dart down enough so that the bumpy landing wouldn't kill him. His arms shook with the strain as the controls fought him. He could do this.
As the sensors flashed at him, he realized it might be too little, too late.
He pulled back anyway, not about to give up on hope, even granted it was all he had left, and abruptly realized he very much wanted this opaque shell to become transparent, just so he could see how long he had left…
The Dart seemed to scream as it flew into the lower layers of the atmosphere, still going too fast, but slowing down, it was slowing down, and maybe, just maybe, John would get to see his friends again.
The surface drew closer, and the sensors inside the cockpit flashed and beeped, and the pilot tried to ignore them, muscles weakening as he kept a slipping hold on the controls, keeping a desperate hold on hope. He could survive, he could!
A small explosion ripped that hope from him, and he cried out, ignoring the flying sparks from whatever had burst behind him. He kept his grip on the controls, now more from instinct than any belief that he was going to survive, but leaned forward, trying to avoid the singing electricity, or whatever it was that the Wraith used to fly these things.
"If anyone can hear me!" he yelled, hoping he was still transmitting through the radio attached to his ear. "I'm going down!"
Another burst of sparks from behind and he cried out with the burning at his ears, and down his back. The Dart was still screaming with the pressure, and John was sure it was screaming at him. A final victory for the doomed craft and the masters aboard the Hive ship the human had destroyed.
"I can't slow the Dart down!" he cried. "I'm going way too fast, and the surface is way too close! If anyone's getting this… I'm going to crash."
Another explosion behind him and suddenly the dim light of the cockpit was a bit brighter. John craned his neck, hearing it crack as he looked behind him and saw the orange glow.
"Oh God, the Dart's on fire!" he cried, leaning as far away from the back of the cockpit as he could. Fear made him want to scream. "Is anyone getting this? I don't think I have enough control! I am going to crash!"
The sensors that were screaming warnings at him flashed again, faster, quicker, and he knew he was getting close to crashing into the earth. Oh God, he was going to crash!
The realization dawned deep within him, a sickening, crunching darkness that seemed to chill his very bones, and he gaped, hands still tight on the joy stick though he had in fact forgotten about them. All he could see was death.
"If anyone's getting this," he whispered, knowing he was doomed. "Say good bye for me."
He didn't even feel the crash. Didn't feel the jolt that sent him sprawling forwards, head cracking into the alien controls he had been trying to manage. Didn't feel the too sudden stop as Dart met earth and his entire body was whipped from movement.
All he knew next was nothingness.
In orbit, high above the small planet, the warship Daedalus sat in complete silence, shocked to its very core. They had seen the Hive ship explode, and had wondered what had caused it. Had gotten word from the cloaked puddle jumper, from Major Lorne, who had been with Sheppard. Had been. They had heard Sheppard's final moments, heard the crash, and they knew.
No one could have survived that.
"Is the radio back up?" Colonel Steven Caldwell demanded of no one in particular. There was silence for a moment.
"No, sir. It's not."
The voice was thick, full of signs that the owner was barely holding back shock.
He turned to his right, to the captain sitting there. "Any signs of life on that planet?" he asked, hopeful. The man stared at his screen for a moment than shook his head dejectedly.
"None, sir."
Caldwell didn't even move. He was stunned. But he managed to get his head working again and gave the order.
"We need to get back to Atlantis," he said in a voice void of emotion. "They need medical attention. Take us back."
Slowly the control room began moving again, people pressing buttons and calling commands as if in a daze. Caldwell sat still in his seat, not listening, knowing his people could get them back there without his orders. He just couldn't believe it. Sheppard had survived so much in the past few years, it was hard to actually believe what had seemed the impossible.
But apparently in this galaxy the impossible was proven wrong all the time. It had only taken the death of a good soldier to show them that.
Okay, should have said earlier - I SWEAR it's not a deathfic!