Stargate Atlantis: Death's Door3
The team careened sideways into the opposite wall as the floor tilted under their feet. Faint alarms blared then were oddly silenced. The hit the wall hard, but no one was seriously injured. Several swear words hit the air and were absorbed by the silence.
The floor rocked again, trying to dislodge the team and throw them into the opposite wall, but they steadied themselves, ready for the impact. Nevertheless they slid and slipped on the floor and hit the other wall but not as roughly as the first time.
The city was like a bucking bronco, trying to remove the unwanted riders on its back.
"What the hell was that?" Bates demanded.
"I don't know!" Kavanaugh snapped, trying to access his scanner and adjust his glasses at the same time while keeping his footing as the hallway rocked like a ship lost at sea. A few alarms whispered and lights gleamed until they were doused by an unknown command.
"Did we hit something?" Watson asked, clutching his gun and keeping his back braced against the wall to keep standing. Images of the ill-fated Titanic filled his mind, but there were no icebergs in this ocean. He stifled back a hysterical laugh.
"We're anchored, aren't we, sir?" Larson asked. She knelt and touched the floor, almost expecting it to be buckling but it was flat and stable. It was dry as a bone. She glanced round to see the water in the walls bubbling, but flowing upwards, not downwards as if defying gravity. She blinked and looked away from the anomaly, disturbed.
"Yes, we're anchored on the ocean surface…at least we should be. Kavanaugh?"
"I need a terminal access." He turned pointing, eyes on his scanner. "This way. There should be a ZPM outlet room down this hallway where I should be able to gain access to a remote terminal. It might be more cooperative than the main terminal and I think I can hack my way into the lesser systems to at least get a reading."
"Let's go," Bates agreed.
"What about the three life signs, sir?" Larson asked as she followed the men down the hallway. "They could be survivors and injured."
"They can wait until we get this city stabilized," Bates decided. "We can't help them if we end up drowning, now can we?"
Kavanaugh was muttering to himself as he entered the dark room and made his way to a computer terminal. He set down his scanner and began attacking the keyboard. The monitor blinked to life but the screen was full of gibberish. The only sounds were the clacking of the keys as the scientist kept trying to gain entry to the city's systems.
Watson and Larson stood by the doorway, shining their P90 lights across the dark hallway and listening for any sounds of life.
There were none.
Bates circled the room. He noted the empty containers which should have held three ZPMs to power the city. He noted the absence of any naquadah generators or any kind of arsenal. There was no destruction here, however. It looked as if the ZPMs had merely been removed or relocated. He moved to stand next to Kavanaugh. "Well?"
"Nothing! It's like the city is, is fighting me! It won't accept any basic command codes! Even at this level I should be able to at least access basic systems and get a reading on the city's status! It should be working!" He almost slammed his fist on the table out of frustration.
"Let me try. I have a few command codes. I have Weir's which still might work. And I have Sheppard's." Bates reached into a pocket of his TAC vest and produced a piece of paper. He set his P90 aside and drew the keyboard to him.
Kavanaugh eyed him, skeptical and surprised. "You have Sheppard's code? Don't you think he would have used it?"
"No. I think that Sheppard is dead."
There was a hush, a strange sound like a sharp intake of breath.
"It's the only thing that makes sense," Bates continued, frowning as Weir's code was being rejected by the machine. He typed in the letters and numbers again but still the machine did not respond. He looked up to see his team staring at him. "Look how wrong things have gone here. This attack or infiltration has nearly destabilized the city and almost everyone is slaughtered. That tells me that Sheppard was probably among the first victims unless by some odd chance he was out of the city when this happened."
"I thought you didn't like Sheppard," Kavanaugh recalled. The two men had often butted heads over security decisions.
"I don't. But he did keep this city alive and running for five years and I respect him for that. I also know that he wouldn't give up this city without a fight, unless for some reason he capitulated in the end." Bates typed in the command code. The machine beeped, and power flared. "There, you see? We can get the—"
Sparks flew and an electric surge jolted the machines. A whine of fury filled the air.
Bates yelled and flew backwards as the static discharge hissed through his fingers and made his limbs tingle. He fell onto the floor with a grunt. Kavanaugh drew back as the machine spitted and sputtered and with a shaky hand he reached out to power it down. A thin trail of smoke issued from the fried wires, a tiny spiral of gray that was soon lost in the gloom.
He swore as it zapped him before going dark. For a brief, brief second he could have sworn two words had flashed on the screen and then were gone in the blink of an eye.
Got ya
"What the hell? Sir, are you all right?" Watson was rushing to his commanding officer but Bates raised his hand to halt the younger man.
"I'm fine. Damn!" He moved to his feet, shaking his arms. They had that pins and needles feeling and he vigorously flexed them to awaken the muscles. "It's like it attacked me!"
Kavanaugh snatched his scanner from the table, attributing the words to his imagination or to stress. "I think we better leave this alone for now. Something is blocking our access, either a firewall or a computer virus or some internal damage to the city's systems…" Doubt lined his face as he eyed the console.
Machines couldn't react to people like that, now could they?
"There's no ordnance, sir," Larson reported. She had moved to a cabinet which was devoid of any kind of weapons. There was no C4 or guns or stunners. Not even a knife was to be found. The barrenness was creepy.
"Is it possible that the, the city turned on itself? Could the city turn on its inhabitants?"
Kavanaugh would have laughed at the question, but not now. He considered, carefully walking around the terminal as if he was circling a mad dog. "Possibly. We know that the systems on Altantis are quite complex, and especially reactive to people with the ATA gene. In fact the whole city if not their entire civilization was based upon this prejudice and designed specifically for those who had that single genetic anomaly and they-"
"I didn't ask for a lecture, just answer, doctor. Yes or no?" Bates clarified. He was irritated by the increasingly nervous ramblings of the scientist.
"No. I mean it would have to be directed by either a code or a virus."
"Is the city stable?"
"For now. From what I could access before it all turned to gibberish yes. But it won't remain like that."
"Can we initiate a self-destruct?" Bates asked. "I wonder if Sheppard tried that before it all went to hell and this is the result."
"We can't do that, not if the city is rejecting every code that we have," Kavanaugh answered.
"Let's finish checking this level. Track those life signs if you can. First and foremost this is a search and rescue mission. Watson, take…where's Watson?"
"He was just here, sir!" Larson answered.
Lights shone across the room. There was no sign of the young marine.
"Damn it. Watson! Watson, report!" Bates ordered quietly. He didn't want to shout in case there were hostiles in the vicinity. He gestured and the team quickly exited the room.
"Watson?"
The young man was standing at the foot of a set of stairs, gun lowered. He was gazing upwards as if spellbound. An emergency light was flickering on him, creating an elongated shadow behind him until it melted into the darkness.
The team advanced towards him slowly after exchanging glances.
"Watson? What is it, son?" Bates asked, tone gentle. He touched the young man's arm and Watson nearly jumped. He met the leader's gaze, shook his head, eyes wide. Bates looked at the stairs and let his gaze travel upwards to see whatever it was that had so riveted and reviled the young marine. "Son of a bitch," he said softly, freeing the other man's arm.
Larson and Kavanaugh joined him to see what had caused such a comment. They wished that they hadn't.
All stared.
There was a man hanging above the stairs, suspended by ropes that stretched out his arms and his legs. His back was towards them, head slung over his chest. Blood had pooled under him in a dark, dark stain on the top step. The Atlantis patch had been ripped from his shoulder and was floating on the pool of blood, a little island of pale fabric lost in the gloom.
Bates couldn't see his face, or the name on his uniform, but he knew. He knew by the build of the man. The long, lean lines of the body clad entirely in black. The dark hair on the bowed head was tousled in every direction and against regulations. Bates knew he had not died easily, that he had fought every step of the way, trying to save the lives of his friends and his colleagues and the city. He knew despite their differences this was a good man, a decent man, and it was horrible to see all that goodness and decency torn out and put on display like a terrible trophy.
"Sir…is it…" Watson stammered. Despite the young man's height he seemed to cower in front of the horror facing him.
"Yes, lieutenant." Bates sighed and turned to face his team. "Sheppard."
A noise interrupted.