Stargate Atlantis -:- The Collective
Author's Note(s):
Wow! Super-duper thanks to sherry57, firefighter22, highonscifi, JoeyLuv, BMick, shirik, Questfan and sheppardlover928 for reviewing! My muse appreciates you all! Also to everyone else who alerted, favourited and/or simply read the previous chapter – you are all wonderful as well!
Also; 'Present' is now a blanket-term that covers anything post-explosion. The scenes are technically out of order so you'll probably need to pay special attention to the times in the subtitles – but from the reviews I'm guessing you guys are following the time-shifts okay so I'm going to stop nannying now.
Now to ignore my ramblings and get back to the actual story!
Chapter Two -:- Escape and Evade
(Past) 08.30am – Central Tower/Stargate Operations
McKay practically ran the last length of corridor, though he skipped to a casual stroll the moment he approached the gate room. He tugged at his uniform and slowed his breathing all to hide the fact that he had in fact been uncharacteristically eager for a social event. He hadn't seen his best friend for nearly two months, the ever-the-good-Samaritan doctor having been giving aid to a planet ravaged by the Hoffan virus. Beckett was only going to be home for a few days, and he'd probably spend them working, so Rodney was going to very subtly spend as much time with him as he could.
He didn't want to appear desperate or anything.
He entered into the vast gate room with a smile he couldn't remove glued to his face. For all his pretences to the contrary, he couldn't help but feel excited. He probably gave himself away when he actually acknowledged another human being's existence with a jaunty wave. The gate tech he gestured to gave him an almost frightened look and quickened his pace, but Rodney didn't care. He checked his watch as he came to a stop at the bottom of the steps. He was dead on time.
The gate remained stubbornly inactive in front of him. Rodney made a thoughtful hurumph, and checked his watch again. Maybe Carson's was just running a little slower than his, therefore making the doctor not technically late. It was only thirty seconds after all…thirty-two…thirty-three…
"Scheduled Off-world Activation!"
"Well that's not true," Rodney muttered irritably as the chevrons around the gate glowed to live with a low mechanical whir. "He's thirty-seven seconds late."
He waited as close to patiently as he ever got as the vertical blue pool of the Stargate materialised with a majestic whoosh that Rodney barely took any notice of. He'd seen it enough times for the once amazing sight to have dulled to an everyday occurrence. Eventually, the wormhole locked, and Rodney tapped his foot waiting for Carson to appear.
Instead, a large black duffle bag flew through. Seconds later it was joined by another. Nearly a whole minute after that, Beckett struggled through the gate backwards, dragging a huge and rather heavy looking yellow box. Rodney watched him struggle for a moment as punishment for the man's tardiness, and then came forward to help. "About time you showed up."
Carson threw Rodney a tired grin. "You missed me then?"
"You? No, of course I didn't miss you," Rodney put as much arrogant indignance in his voice as he could. After nearly four decades of practice, he pulled it off pretty well. "I simply don't appreciate being asked to be at a certain place at a certain time to help out and then being made to wait. It's just not the way we do things in civilised society."
Beckett could read him like a book and didn't take any of the rant to heart. He just continued to smile tiredly as he grabbed up one of the casually tossed duffle bags. Rodney picked up the other and between them they dragged the box out of the gate room. "Anything interesting happen while I was away?"
McKay shrugged, quite a feat considering both his arms were being stretched by luggage. "Not really. Sheppard's managed to lead us on eight missions with the worst injury received being a rather nasty splinter – don't worry, I had Jennifer look at it. She says I'm fine, and when she says it, I actually believe her." Carson's smile broadened at the love-sick puppy look on his friend's face. "Woolsey has imposed at least twenty new rules that no one has bothered to obey; Torren can now successfully sit up on his own and the Apollo deposited a whole bunch of new recruits – one of whom stole my laptop yesterday."
Beckett didn't immediately reply as the pair of them struggled down a poorly designed spiral staircase. "So you and Jennifer are serious now?"
"Ever since we spent some quality time avoiding a catastrophic disaster in Nevada things have been really great," Rodney was grinning like a kid. Carson remembered when he had first met the astrophysicist more than five years prior; he never would have pegged him as the relationship type. "She's amazing Carson…and she likes me. I mean, come on! She actually likes me!"
"Unbelievable," Carson muttered good-naturedly. It took Rodney a moment to catch the bantered insult, and then they were both laughing. McKay really had missed his best friend.
"Hey! Need a hand?" a voice called from behind them. Rodney turned slightly to see Sheppard jogging towards them, not even slightly out of breath while the pair of them were panting like dogs. He took the duffle bag from Beckett with ease and the doctor then took the yellow box by himself. "Where you heading?"
"The infirmary," Carson answered, grateful for the help.
"Brilliant, the complete opposite direction of where I need to go," Sheppard grinned, matching pace with the worn down men. At Rodney's look he elaborated. "Woolsey wants to see me about something."
"I thought it was your day-off."
"I told him that, but apparently paperwork waits for no vacation time." They turned a corner and the infirmary doors finally came into view. Rodney sighed heavily in relief and Sheppard threw him a sideways smirk at his lack of fitness. He remembered only months before when Michael had stormed Atlantis, shutting down power and the much-relied-on transporters; forcing Rodney to use the stairs. John had been barely taxed while the scientist had been practically floored by the exertion. The moment they entered the infirmary they dropped their loads, Rodney dramatically throwing himself on an unused gurney for a much needed nap. John prodded him. "Bythe way, I passed McKinley on the way up…"
"Who?" Rodney asked, his voice muffled by the pillow he had face-planted.
John sighed then proffered the computer he had tucked under his arm. "The laptop thief. She said she was sorry about five hundred times and that she didn't change any of the settings too drastically. At least that's what I think she said – she was speaking at the speed of light at the time."
Rodney gave a grunt of acknowledgment and blindly reached for the computer. Safely back in his possession he held it almost like a treasured teddy, the look completed by the napping. John rolled his eyes, said his goodbyes and left the infirmary.
Carson came and perched on the edge of the gurney next to Rodney, rolling his shoulders experimentally. His muscles burned from the strain of lugging the heavy equipment, but it was all necessary for him to continue his research. The guilt from having helped Michael create the Hoffan drug drove him to work beyond human endurance. He would never rest easy until he had managed to right that terrible wrong. Unlike Rodney, who was looking very comfortable.
He gave the astrophysicist a poke in the ribs and was rewarded with an irritated mumble. After a minute or so of continual prodding, Rodney eventually pushed himself upright, swatting Beckett's hand in annoyance. "Don't you have work to do?"
McKay grumbled something unintelligible.
"That was a 'yes', wasn't it?" Carson smiled. He himself had a ridiculous amount of work to do, that was honestly going to be easier to complete if Rodney was otherwise occupied.
"My lab may currently be being used for some 'social science' experiment that has no right to be called a 'science', but yes, I do have other important things I should be doing," McKay sighed, rubbing his eyes. Now begrudgingly awake he remembered his stupidly long to-do-list. "There's some lab down in delta that the laptop thief discovered yesterday – I need to delegate the cataloguing to some overpaid underlings. I also need to find a new lab, run diagnostics on some power fluctuations Zelenka's been moaning about and re-re-write a mission report Woolsey found unsatisfactory."
Carson raised his eyebrows, patting Rodney sympathetically on the shoulder. He then stood aside and gestured at the door. "Don't let me keep you."
With another sigh, McKay hopped off his gurney and onto his feet. He hated that he had so little time with his best friend; even when they were on the same planet they hardly got to hang out. "Fine. But we'll meet up again later. I'll come back and make sure you stop for lunch."
"I'm sure you'll remember." Carson said non-committedly. He'd been stood-up by Rodney's forgetfulness enough times.
"I never forget lunch!" Rodney called over his shoulder as he headed out the door. "Unless of course we're being invaded, sieged or otherwise attacked."
"Here's hoping for a quiet day."
(Present) 10.55am – Central Tower/Infirmary
"We'll meet outside the transporter on level 29 in delta section. It should only take about five minutes."
Beckett nodded in agreement to Rodney's plan, then abruptly realised he couldn't actually be seen. "Right. I'll see you there."
With that decided he cobbled together an expansive emergency med kit. He knew Dr. Keller had been pretty close to the explosion when it happened and was the first responder, but Beckett determined that it was better to be safe than sorry. Without anyone answering the radio it was impossible to tell what was going on and who needed his help, so it made sense to be ready for anything.
By the time he had collected together the additional supplies the five minutes Rodney had allowed were practically up. He tapped his radio to let the scientist know he was running late. "Rodney? It's Carson, I'm just leaving now."
He didn't receive a reply. "Rodney?"
Now that's not good Carson thought to himself, his anxiety doubling. He glanced at the infirmary door as he hitched the kit over his shoulders. Something was going on out there; something really bad. Something that was silencing everyone on the other end of the radio. The fear of the unknown enemy made Carson reluctant to leave the relative safety of the infirmary; but he was a doctor, and there were people out there in need of his help. He squashed the fear down as best as he could, took a deep breath, and stepped into the corridor beyond.
Thankfully, he found the it empty. That was unusual though, considering the infirmary's proximity to Stargate operations, the nerve centre of Atlantis. After only a few seconds, Carson was incredibly creeped out. Where the bloody hell was everybody?
"Rodney?" he tried the radio again, flinching at the volume of his voice in the deserted space. Still he received no reply. Carson felt every muscle in his body tense as he forced himself to keep going. The strange emptiness of the usually busy area reminded him of some terrible horror movie Rodney had made him watch. There had been zombies in that movie. Carson hated zombies.
He made his way down a staircase and along several more corridors without meeting another soul. He was only a few turns away from the transporter. He picked up the pace at the promise of an end to the eeriness, taking a corner at a near run; and then froze.
He found himself at the business end of a standard issue sidearm.
"I don't know who you are and I don't really care. I will shoot you if you try any of that robot-cop crap on me." The owner of the gun declared with far more confidence than her shaking hands betrayed. She looked a little traumatised, a bruise forming on her cheek and dribble of blood on her lip.
Judging from her civilian uniform, Beckett concluded that the gun wasn't hers, but he didn't doubt that she could use it. He raised his hands as non-threateningly as possible. "Easy lass, I'm not going to hurt you."
She studied him intently for a moment, noting his non-robotic speech. She relaxed a little, but still didn't lower the gun. "Are you…are you…normal?"
"Aye, lass, or so I've been led to believe," Carson used his best bedside manner voice, smiling gently and reassuringly. It had the desired effect as she carefully lowered the weapon.
"Good, cause I didn't really want to shoot you," her dark eyes darted around the corridor that was still vacant apart from them, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "I've only been here two days and I don't particularly want to gain a reputation as some trigger-happy psychopath. I hate being new, don't you? Particularly when you're in another galaxy and you don't know anybody and then you wake up to your bunkmate from the Apollo suddenly attacking you like some kind of B-movie zombie. I'm Miranda by the way, Miranda McKinley."
Carson blinked, struggling to keep up with the woman. "Dr. Beckett."
"Nice to meet you,Dr. Beckett, especially as you're not trying to attack me." McKinley replied, now practically dancing on the spot. He wondered if it was from nervousness or if she was naturally that restless. "We should keep moving; they catch up to you if you stay still for too long. Are you going anywhere in particular?"
Beckett made a show of his med kit. "I'm a doctor, lass. I was heading towards the accident to help the survivors. You're welcome to join me."
"Sure, that's tons better than being on my own anyhow. Safety in numbers and all that." McKinley fell into step beside him as he continued down the corridor. She lifted the gun back into a ready position, scoping it from side to side.
Within minutes they found themselves at the transporter and he waved his hand over the controls to open the doors. Carson was a little nervous about trapping himself inside such an enclosed space with strange, armed woman, but as she had said – it was better than being alone.
They stepped inside, Carson selected the appropriate dot, and suddenly they were bathed in white light as they were teleported down the building. The doors reopened with a whoosh and they stepped into a hallway practically identical to the one they had just left behind.
They barely made it down two corridors before they found themselves in a warzone. Bullets and stunner blasts ricocheted around them, the sound deafening compared to the previous silence. Beckett instinctively grabbed hold of McKinley and pulled her down, shielding her with his own body. He chanced a glance up and saw Lorne taking cover behind a pillar further up the corridor, firing sporadic shots from his hiding place. "Major!"
Lorne turned at his title and saw the pair of them cowering in the small amount of cover they had found for themselves. Carson saw the debate play out across the soldier's features as to whether or not they were enemy combatants as well. He seemed to decide they weren't though as he lay down a series of shots to pin down the enemy then ran from his cover, closing the distance between them.
"Can't go this way, doc," Lorne quipped as he hooked a hand under McKinley's arm and hauled her to her feet.
Bullets continued to sing around them as the Major shoved them back the way they had come. He stifled a yell as a bullet found its target, but continued their retreat without pausing. He fired off a shot or two over his shoulder until his gun clicked empty. Eventually they made it back to the transporter. Lorne jabbed a random dot on the map and they were whisked away to the safety of the beta tower.
Once they stumbled out of the transporter and into another corridor, Lorne turned on Beckett. "Now please tell me you know what the hell is going on."
(Present) 11.10am – Sigma Tower/Level 4 – Section Zulu
John looked down the barrel of the gun currently pointed at his head. He'd been threatened enough times that the actual weapon didn't scare him as much as it probably should; it was the person holding it that frightened the crap out of him. Teyla was staring at him with eyes far colder than he had ever seen them, her grip sure on the weapon poised to kill him. However, she hadn't.
"The Voice decrees that he is to be terminated." Keller repeated, also noting the delay.
There was the slightest of tremors to the hand that held the gun; John only noticed it because it was mere inches from his face. His gaze flickered from the gun to her eyes as he tried to figure out if it was really Teyla in there. He remembered his own experience with Thalen; how he had been totally aware of his actions and yet completely unable to control them. Was she now fighting as he had fought?
The most distinct memory John had from his experience was the guilt from getting Ronon shot and hurting the others. He didn't think he would've been able to live with himself if he had killed one of them. As Teyla fought whatever forced her finger to the trigger, he searched for a way out. He couldn't let her live with the guilt of killing him.
"As the Voice demands…so shall it be."
This is gonna hurt.
John threw all his weight to the left milliseconds before the bullet left the chamber. The explosive sound practically deafened his right ear from its proximity, but he had succeeded in avoiding the shot. The soldiers holding him had been taken completely off guard – the one on his left was thrown off-balance while the one on his right had been dragged into the bullets path. The force of the hit to the shoulder at close range threw the soldier flying backwards to the ground.
Sheppard was up and moving, adrenaline temporarily masking the pain of his injuries, while the people around him struggled to process what had happened. Maybe whatever was controlling them couldn't make snap decisions, meaning that Teyla and the others lost their reflexes and spontaneity. Whatever the reason for their slowness, John didn't care, he was just grateful. It was the only way he'd ever beat Teyla in a fight.
He easily disarmed her with a textbook move that he never would have gotten away with if she were herself. It was then that they began to react. The off-balanced soldier made a grab for him as Teyla threw a left hook at his face. With a pang of guilt he backhanded her across the cheek with the butt of the weapon as he elbowed the soldier in the nose. With them down, he only had to deal with the hallway full of people.
John saw Keller draw a Wraith stunner and aim it in his vague direction; she never had been very skilled with weapons. He darted forward, simultaneously switching the 9mm to his left hand, freeing up his right to snatch the stunner from her grasp. All around him the others were readying weapons ranging from stunners to P90s, but still their movements were stilted and slow. If he were 100% he probably could have disarmed most of them singlehandedly, but as it stood he decided it was best to avoid the fight.
Stunning a few civilians that were in his way, John pelted down the corridor towards where he hoped a transporter was. He wasn't greatly familiar with this section of the city, even though he claimed to know Atlantis like the back of his hand. Honestly they didn't often have use for the additional cells, instead only really using the one a few levels up for Todd, their regular guest.
With the first turn of good fortune of that day, or at least what he could remember of it, John found himself at a transporter door. Behind him he could hear the sounds of pursuit as his hunters cycled their weapons, the wasted ammunition chipping the walls around him. He threw himself inside the closet-like space and automatically poked at the screen.
When the doors opened again he stumbled out into the familiar corridors of the gamma tower and the crew sleeping quarters. He left the transporter and half-jogged down a few halls just in case one of his pursuers had seen which part of the map he had selected. By the time he came to a stop his breath was coming out in ragged gasps, his right arm pressed tightly against his aching ribs. His head was swimming, whatever he had had for breakfast threatening to make a reappearance. Apparently running for one's life wasn't a good thing to do with a concussion and cracked ribs. Now that the brief adrenaline high had left him he felt the pain ten-fold.
He allowed himself a few minutes to just stand there and recover. Eventually he managed to slow his breathing enough for the burning in his chest to subside a little. The world slowly stopped spinning and his breakfast stayed put, allowing him to try and figure what the hell had just happened.
His memory from before waking up in a decimated lab remained stubbornly blank. He couldn't remember that morning or even the day before – he didn't even know what day of the week it was. The memory loss worried him a lot; but he figured mind-controlled personnel and explosions were slightly more important at that moment in time. The tiny pieces of information he did have didn't fit together anyway, so John decided to prioritise. He wasn't far from his quarters; he'd patch himself up, and then he'd figure out what to do next.
He was still holding the confiscated stunner and sidearm as he began the arduous journey to the other side of the tower and up the stairs. He tried to remain alert as he had been trained, but he couldn't have been that aware as he finally picked up on a distant noise. He was going to blame the fact he was practically half-deaf. As he climbed the stairs the noise became clearer and closer.
Something was crying. Well, wailing would be a better description. John almost kicked himself when he realised who it was.
"Torren."
(Past?) 10.30am – Central Tower/Stargate Operations
The explosion rattled the glass windows of Woolsey's office. The floor shook, light fittings swayed and the photo of his beloved dog fell to the ground with a crash. Woolsey gripped the edges of his desk in fear as well as support until the tremors stopped.
Whatever he had been working on before was instantly forgotten as he leapt to his feet. He could see the gate technicians immediately jumping to action in the control room as they tried to pinpoint the explosion's origin and assess the damage. Woolsey was marching across the adjoining bridge from his office as the first radio calls came in. "What just happened?" he demanded of Amelia as soon as he was in earshot.
"We're not sure, sir," she replied, a concerned look on her face although she was perfectly calm as she navigated the control room's computer systems. She always had been good under pressure; and she was a pretty good kick-boxer as well. "We're getting reports of an explosion in delta section."
"Patch me in," Woolsey ordered, and immediately his earwig was full of radio chatter. He decided to try and bring some order to the chaos. "This is Woolsey, can someone please tell what has happened."
"This is Keller, I'm at the scene. It's lab delta29-B that's exploded. I've been told that there were people inside, but I can't get to them because of the rubble. I need combat engineers down here ASAP."
"Beckett here, Jennifer love, do you need me to come down?"
"No, I need you to prep the OR, if there are any survivors they're going to be in pretty bad shape."
"Understood. Out."
Woolsey shared a look with Amelia. Things didn't sound good. He briefly wondered how many good people he had just lost, before he was able to bury the thought. There was still a chance, and they would do everything physically possible to help. "Major Lorne, can you co-ordinate the engineers? We also need to know if this tower is still structurally sound so that we can organise an evacuation if necessary."
"This is McKay. I've shut down all primary power to that area but it's taking longer to isolate secondary systems so watch out for live electrics."
"Thanks doc," Lorne replied. "Greggs has reported that the tower is still safe, there's no need for an evacuation. The rest of the engineers are on their way Keller, hold tight."
Woolsey let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. He didn't want to think about the disaster they could have been dealing with if they had needed to evacuate. This way, at least, they could focus on rescuing the survivors. "Do we know who was in the lab and what they were doing?"
It was McKay who answered. It was his department after all. "I assigned the lab to Parsons and Volkov for investigation and cataloguing." There was a pause over the line. "They called for an ATA user…I think…I think Sheppard's in there too."
"Understood," Woolsey said, mainly because he wasn't entirely sure what else he could say. That was three people, and one of them was his military commander. But he had to stay focused, calm and in control; he was the leader of this expedition and he had proven before that he could handle the pressure. "Major Lorne, what is your status?"
"The combat engineers are at the hot zone. I'm currently en-route, ETA fi…"
"I'm sorry Major, didn't catch that last part." Woolsey tapped at his earwig, and then glanced at Amelia when he didn't get a reply. She shrugged, indicating that the equipment was fine. "Major?"
The gate technician next to Amelia promptly slumped across his console. She immediately leaned over to check on him. "Harvey? Harvey can you hear me?"
"Hello? This is Keller. I can't get through to Beckett. Rodney is there a problem with the radios?"
Again, there was no reply from either man. Now what was going on? "Major Lorne, Dr. Beckett, Dr. McKay, report." Woolsey instructed with as much authority as his voice could project. Still, there was no reply. "Dr. Keller, we seem to be having difficulty reaching some people. Focus on helping the engineers while we sort out the problem. Amelia, call Zelenka and ask him to run diagnostics on the communications system."
"Yes sir," Amelia begrudgingly left Harvey in order to make the call. The poor man had only been there as long as her so she guessed they were both relatively green to the expedition, but she didn't understand why he had fainted. "Zelenka says there is no problem, sir."
"Strange. Keep trying to contact Major Lorne and the others. Chet," Woolsey called Chuck, who under the circumstances didn't feel the need to correct him. "Help Harvey…"
Suddenly, Woolsey's world became very dark.
The Voice found itself standing in the middle of a strange room it hadn't seen for a very long time. It recognised the elegant décor and crystalline technology to be that of the Ancestors; however it was confused to see perplexing silver boxes attached to nearly every console. Much time must have passed since the last time The Collective had been free.
Inside the room were Ancestor-shaped beings, although their bizarre dress made it apparent that they were not in fact, the Ancestors. Unless of course they had experience a radical change in fashion trends. It wouldn't have been that unlikely, had it not been that the Ancestors were extremely set in their ways. The Voice turned to one such creature, a female with fair hair and skin. She met its gaze, and the Voice found a kindred. She had taken the designation of her host; she would be called 'Amelia'.
"What does the Voice demand?" she asked, her voice perfectly pitched in a monotone. Other members of its kin were also looking to it for guidance. They had woken up in a new world; a world stolen from them before – but this time they would seize it and never relinquish their control.
"Begin memory downloads; update current history archive." The Voice commanded. It wanted to know what it now controlled, the better to fully appreciate what they had achieved. The Voice made its host turn and walk over to an odd shaped perch at the edge of the room. It looked down at the cavernous room below, and the cursed ring it housed. Last time they had lost everything because of that ring. "Shut down the Ring of the Ancestors. There will be no outsiders."
'Amelia' learned how to operate the console from her host and easily found the gate-shield control. The blue film instantly formed across the ring. "Partial memory download complete 12%. Commence broadcast?"
The Voice nodded from its perch; its host's eyelids flickering as it received the data package. It had been over 10,000 years since The Collective had last been free. The Ancestors that had imprisoned them had long since been eradicated, leaving their great city to these mere humans. The humans were divided into classes; Military, Scientist and Civilian, and were helpfully colour-coded as well. The Voice ordered for The Collective to assume the role of its host, his order heard by all throughout the city.
Atlantis now belonged to The Collective.
"What the hell?"
'Amelia' and the one designated as 'Chuck' looked curiously at the human between them. The man wore the same uniform as their hosts and appeared no different from them. And yet he had not assimilated. 'Amelia' looked over at The Voice, communicating the oddity. "He is not of The Collective."
"The what? Amelia, what are you talking about? What happened?"
The Voice grew irritated; a memory from their last Awakening coming to mind. The Ancestors had managed to immunise themselves from their influence – had they managed to do the same to the humans? This complicated matters; their control was not absolute until they were the only free beings in the city. The Voice decided that the uninfected one would be useful for research later. "Contain him."
"What?"
"The Voice decrees that you are to be contained. Surrender willingly and you will not be harmed."
The human's eyes were impossibly wide as he tried to comprehend what was happening. The Voice found his confusion most amusing. He tried to escape, however it appeared that 'Amelia' had also learned a degree of skill in hand to hand combat from her host. She knocked him out with ease, and then ordered a member of the military class to take the human down to the holding cell.
"There may be more," The Voice said both verbally and telepathically as it addressed every member of The Collective. "Take arms. Find them, assess them and neutralise them. Begin excavating the Origin. Our second genesis has begun."
(Present) 11.20am – Sigma Tower/Holding Cell Zulu2-C
McKay woke up to the familiar pins-and-needles-all-over sensation he always got after being stunned. Still disorientated, his eyes not yet open, he half-expected to find himself on yet another hive ship about to be Wraith-chow. He was almost relieved when he actually found himself in a different yet just as familiar cell. He had found himself locked up in their own prison on Atlantis enough times to recognise it purely from the ceiling.
With a groan he pulled himself into a sitting position and took proper stock of his surroundings. He was actually in a different cell from the usual – this one was a larger pen-like space, designed to house more than a single Wraith or a handful of people. This cell could easily hold 30 plus people, and currently contained around twenty. He glanced round at a bunch of familiar faces in varying shades of passed out or petrified, but didn't find anyone he particularly wanted to talk to. Instead he climbed onto his feet and wandered over to where two zombie-marines were standing guard.
"So...mind filling us in on what's going on?" Rodney asked, sarcastically upbeat. Neither guard made a move to reply, not that he was actually expecting them to.
"They won't answer." Rodney glanced down at a green-uniformed person slouched at his feet. Harvey the gate-tech looked utterly defeated, a dark bruise forming over his puffy left eye. "And even if they did, they'd just hit you with some 'collective' bullshit."
Once again, Rodney picked up on the term 'collective'. Apparently that was the word of the day – even the zombies were using it before they stunned you. Maybe that was the name of whatever mind-control was at work here. Or maybe he had fallen asleep watching Star Trek again and this was all just a dream. And incredibly vivid and painful dream. "You got any idea what's happening?"
"Not a clue. I woke up in the control room and everyone was acting weird. Woolsey ordered that I be 'contained' and Amelia knocked me out. Next thing I know I'm in here, and every now and again they bring in someone else," Harvey answered sourly. Obviously he wasn't taking his bad day well.
"Wait, 'woke up'?" Rodney queried, remembering his own rude awakening and Carson mentioning something similar.
"Yeah. Everyone here will tell you the same story. We all passed out, and when we woke up again it was the damn zombie apocalypse."
"Huh," McKay muttered, adding the information to everything else he'd learned. He was still completely in the dark, but he had stopped dismissing intel when a high grunt had proven to have said something relevant. He turned back to the guards, leaning as close as he dared to the invisible force field to try and catch their eye. "Hey! Could you at least tell me who you are? That'd be great. No? How about why then? Come on, you can't ignore me forever; I've been told I'm quite persistent." Rodney paused, half-hoping his interrogation method of 'be as annoying as possible' was having an effect. "Fine. Can you tell me what do you intend to do? Have you got an ultimate goal or anything?"
Finally, one of the guards answered. "We are The Collective. Atlantis belongs to us."
A/N: BTW, really randomly, there is a method to the madness of the location names – in the show they never have to explain where the characters are beyond vague establishing shots, but I needed specific locations to make things easier, so I decided to make some up. The tower names are taken from the Greek alphabet and section titles from the NATO phonetic alphabet. Particular rooms are made up from function/section/level/room. It doesn't really make any difference; I just thought I'd tell you anyway.
See you next chap!
