Rules of War

AN: Did I take too long? Man, it's been forever. I know I promised action…well, more than what I'm going to give you. Instead, here's a chapter full of answers.

As a side note, I ask of you to please read the chapter thoroughly if you are even slightly confused. The answers you seek are there, young padawans. -bows-

"Why do we kill people who are killing people to show that killing people is wrong?"

--Holly Near

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Chapter Ten: Science

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4:47 pm, Ancient Satellite Stasis Chambers

"Ten years of dedicated service to the George Houster energy fusion program, and outstanding record of success in the field of advanced…"

"McKay."

"I'm proud to present one of my accomplished colleagues and former student of mine, Dr. Rodney—"

"McKay!"

The stadium vanished. The audience vanished. Even the colors faded to the normal grays, blacks and red of the dimly glowing chamber. Reality replaced rational dreaming, where he'd only just started feeling better about himself, just only started to believe that everything had gone back to normal. But all that vanished, with Lorne's voice and an icy hand on his damp forehead.

"What…" he croaked, cracking open an eye. "Oh, God…"

Pain.

"Chances are you'll be hurting for a while," he heard Lorne's surprisingly alive voice tell him. "But you need to stay still, or you'll open the scab. Understand?"

"Where's…" The effort took a single breath and more. "You're…you're supposed to be dead," he finished, not even completing his first thought, which was to ask about Sheppard.

"Yeah, I'm still figuring that out myself," Lorne replied. His face gradually became clearer, hovering above Rodney with an empathetic twinge that Rodney found hard to process. He'd killed Lorne. The machine had established the major was dead. He'd watched him shrivel up and collapse inside the life pod!

"I woke up in one of these machines," the major went on, meticulously peeling away the bandage around McKay's neck. "One minute, I'm dying, the next…let's just say I'll never take my youth for granted ever again."

"Sheppard," panted McKay. "Where's Sheppard and Ronon?"

Lorne paused, staring at the blood-soaked cloth in his hands. "I have no idea," he said. "I was sort of hoping you knew. Any idea what happened to you?"

Oh, well, that was easy to explain. Rodney screwed his eyes shut tightly, fighting back the overwhelming urge to throw up. Actually, that had been his next question. The details were a little fuzzy right now…but he was sure he'd almost shot Sheppard. No, make that…he had shot Sheppard. Then he shot himself. Oh, right. That.

"You don't want to know," he said, rolling his head slightly. "Just that…it wasn't me. I didn't try to kill you…it was the Wraith, I swear."

Wait a minute.

"What," he said, dazed. "The Wraith, it…it's gone." A feebly laugh escaped him. "I can't believe it…I did it. I defeated the Wraith!"

"Hey, hey," Lorne snapped, putting a hand on the scientist's shoulder to keep him still. "Calm down. You'll kill yourself."

McKay winced. He shouldn't have to put it like that.

The major said nothing as he finished redressing the faintly bleeding wound on the physicist's neck. Meanwhile, Rodney continued to stare at the ceiling in revelation of his sudden, and mysterious freedom. And really, he'd feel much better if Sheppard and Ronon weren't missing. And on top of everything else miserable that had happened to him today, he had to live with the fact that it was his birthday. Why wouldn't anyone believe him when he said it his birthdays were always a bad thing?

"I tried radioing Colonel Sheppard, but there's no response," said Lorne at last. "No response from either Lieutenant Padley or Teyla, either. I don't suppose you might know anything about that."

"Look," Rodney said. "I was just shot in the head with a bullet. I am in…a lot of pain right now. So I would really appreciate it if I could just think without being interrupted."

"I could save you the trouble," the not-so-gentle reply came. "There's no way out of this place. Two exits, both locked, and some genius—not mentioning any names—cut the power. Somehow, I seriously doubt your sunscreen is going to get us out of here."

McKay groaned, clenching his jaw. "Very…funny."

Realizing he was making fun at the expense of a critically injured patient, the major twisted his face apologetically. "Sorry. Guess I need to work on my bedside manner."

He offered him a drink of water from the spent canteen, which McKay took gratefully. It was incredibly cold and quiet. His jacket did very little to insulate him, especially in his condition, and the silence cut through his nerves like a hot knife through wax. And through it all, a single question buzzed through his mind like a steady drone:

Where was Sheppard?

-

4:45 pm, Unknown

The first thing he heard was Ronon, groaning.

It was a clear indication that something wrong had happened. When the biggest, toughest, scariest guy on your team sounds that helpless, it's time to start planning again. Such as it was inside Sheppard's mind as he regained consciousness. Before he cracked open an eye, he had the groundwork for plans C through G all laid out.

But the tiny workers in his brain came to a freezing halt when he realized where he was. It wasn't a far stretch from Kansas, but it wasn't the last place he remembered, either.

He was in the front section of a Puddlejumper, with his hands bound behind his back. Ronon was shouldering him, still in the process of regaining consciousness. Hence the groaning.

And sitting at the helm, not one meter away, was Dr. Fisher.

"Hey," he remembered saying out loud. The guttural sound to his voice might explain why his head hurt so badly. Or vice versa. "Doc, you mind telling me what you're doing…?"

It wasn't the most heroic thing to say. But damn, it felt like someone had used his head for a game of croquet.

Fisher, surprisingly calm for a man in his nice-guy-turned-captor position, turned away from piloting the ship to face him. "Colonel, it's nice to see you're finally awake. Don't be alarmed. I'm just making sure we're well out of range of the satellite before the Wraith destroy it."

The colonel groggily lifted his head, shifting his shoulders a little so that he could sit upright. Beside him, Ronon stopped moving. Without even glancing at him, John knew that the Satedan was fully awake and listening to the exchange. But leave it to the big guy to use even the smallest of advantages against an obvious opponent.

"Okay, I'll bite," Sheppard said, blinking his eyes slowly. The light inside the jumper was turned up a little brighter than usual. "Who are you, and what did you do to the others?"

The old scientist cocked his head to one side indifferently. "By the others, I assume you mean Drs. Golding and Yolane. And that lovely young woman…Teyla, was her name? The handsome, naïve Lieutenant Padley and the ever-so-charming Major Lorne? You certainly have many friends, Colonel."

"I'm a popular guy," Sheppard put bluntly. "Just answer the damn question. And while you at it, care to explain how the hell we got here?"

"I could, but then I'd have to kill you," Fisher replied simply. "On one hand, most of your friends are safe aboard the Daedalus. On the other, there wasn't enough time."

"There wasn't time for what?"

"To save them all," Fisher replied, as though surprised the colonel wasn't aware of the situation. "I might have, if you had simply taken my advice and left while you still had the chance."

"What advice? What the hell is this?" the colonel demanded through his teeth. He was really starting to hate this guy. Whoever he was. He couldn't remember a damn thing about him. Even though he remembered remembering this guy from some part of Atlantis, he kept running into blank spots whenever he thought about where it was he first met Fisher. But before his conversations with the guy over the radio, he couldn't think of a single mention of Dr. Fisher's name.

He loved it when people played with his mind.

"Right now, you're probably experiencing the aftereffects of the bluelights," Fisher explained to him. "Odd feeling, isn't it? It takes a while, but once the neuro-data particles from the lights stop reaching your entorhinal cortex, you slowly start to forget what it was they were communicating to your brain. You probably don't remember who I am, am I right?"

He had to admit—Fisher had him there. Teyla hadn't known who he was either. Was he just a figment of Sheppard's imagination? What the hell were neuro-data particles? Where was Rodney when he needed him?

"I didn't think so," remarked Fisher. "Oh, well. It's too bad I never perfected that technology. It could have brought an end to the war so easily."

"Not that this isn't interesting or anything," John said harshly. "But I'd really appreciate it if you started explaining what the hell it is you're talking about."

"You organics are so aggressive," the old man grumbled, looking strangely akin to a sulky teenager. "Fine, then. I'll introduce myself. My name is Sedlren Brandelis."

Sheppard stared at him evenly. "You're Brandelis."

"Well," came the reply. "In a way…I'm really more of a copy of his core personality. This body is nothing more than a simple, temporary, but efficient carbon representation of my permanent programming."

Still, Sheppard found this hard to believe. He let the gravely 'man' ramble on about his true identity without interrupting.

"Yes, yes, I know. Very clever man, wasn't he? He had to make sure his favorite Wraith specimen would get the proper care he deserved after his inescapable demise. So he left me behind, to take care of it in the event he should die. Which he did. But he didn't foresee his pet Wraith outsmarting him, did he? No, no, no…I'm only a program. I don't know how to handle feral Wraith in the event he should try to escape."

"You're job is to…take care of the Wraith," Sheppard affirmed. "Well, I think it's safe to say you should be fired."

But Brandelis was stuttering on like he couldn't hear the colonel. "But really, what could I do? You and your friends, Colonel, oh! You and your friends are stubborn and smart. I did what I could. But you thwarted me."

To Sheppard, it was gradually starting to make sense. Many of the things he couldn't answer before were finally coming together. "So it wasn't the Wraith," he pointed out. "It was you controlling the blue lights and the satellite's computers."

"Oh, yes. The Wraith learned to tap into my program—as a virus. That's how he set his trap. He's bent on destroying Brandelis—destroying me. He really thinks that I am he, that I am organic. Insane!"

"That's why you helped us," Sheppard filled in, tugging at the firm bonds around his wrists. "You want to stop the Wraith from destroying you."

"Not me, Colonel. I wanted to stop him from destroying himself. And you. Needless to say, that didn't work. I opened the airlocks. You didn't leave. I abducted Major Lorne. You didn't leave. I don't understand you organics. Where is you fear? You sense of self-preservation? Of survival?"

"That would be buried somewhere beneath my concern for my friends," Sheppard replied coldly. "I'll just assume you were too shy to introduce yourself before the Wraith abducted Rodney's brain."

"I tried," Brandelis objected. "I had to conceal myself. The Wraith would have found me, Colonel. And we all would all be dead."

"You know, I really don't like you," the colonel said dangerously, struggling against the bonds that held him down. His arm burned like hell, but that was nothing compared to the fury that boiled under his skin. "Where are McKay and Lorne?"

He felt Ronon's arm twitch as he said that. Obviously, the Satedan was just as eager to know the answer. If they were still where Sheppard thought they were, then this Brandelis guy was going to have more than just the Wraith to worry about.

As it turned out, his fears (as always) turned out to be true.

"You should forget them," said the old man. "The Wraith's host was doomed from the moment he touched those modules. Your other friend…I'm sorry, Colonel. He was inside the machine. He could be contaminated. I couldn't risk unleashing that monster on the galaxy!"

"You left them there?" Sheppard growled.

"Please," rasped Brandelis, sounding at the very least, apologetic. "I placed the young man into the machine. The buffer was full. I gave him back his life. He can live out the remainder of his time as his younger self, but that was all I could do for them. It's too late."

"Like hell it is," the colonel informed him. "Ronon, now's a good time."

The Satedan didn't need a second opinion. Brandelis's programming might have been complex enough to include themes of self-defense and remorse, but it clearly hadn't predicted Ronon's strength for what it was. In one swift lunge, he jerked his arms apart, snapping the plasticuffs that he had been working at since he regained consciousness. Brandelis didn't have a moment to react before the larger man was on him, pinning him against the Puddlejumper's controls.

Sheppard threw his weight forward, climbing unsteadily to his feet—not an easy accomplishment with his arms tied behind his back, one of which was still bleeding from a gunshot wound. The organic body of the Brandelis program was struggling pointlessly against the stronger Satedan.

"I'm trying to help you! You shouldn't be doing this!" he was shouting. Clearly, he wasn't in the best of shape, since he stopped only seconds later, sweating profusely. "You…don't know what it's like," he panted angrily. "To be afraid for you very existence, knowing you can't escape the creature that wants nothing but to destroy you!"

Sheppard hovered over the trapped, bristly man, glowering. "Maybe I don't," he admitted bitterly. "But I can think of a few million people in this galaxy that do."

Brandelis stared up at him with wide eyes. In all likelihood, he hadn't a clue what the colonel was talking about. An instant later, his expression turned dark. His body went lax.

"I won't let it get me," he whispered.

And then, with no warning whatsoever, his body melted. Like a vast pile of transparent glue, it shifted out of the scientist's body and slid to the floor. Surprised, Ronon jumped back, shaking droplets of the liquid substance from his hands in disgust. The two teammates stared at it for a stunned moment, at the matter soaking the panels of the Puddlejumper's interior. When it didn't do anything but sizzle and steam harmlessly, Sheppard decided that it wasn't going to jump up and attack them.

"He's gone," Ronon pointed out needlessly. "Is that good?"

"I don't know." The colonel made a cautious step towards the front of the jumper. "Something tells me that's not the last we'll see of him."

"Can you turn us around?"

"I could try, just as soon as you get these damn cuffs off me," the reply came a bit acidly. "I know you have a knife on you somewhere."

Ronon grinned, producing such an instrument from his belt. Once he'd cut the colonel's bonds, Sheppard sat down at the jumper's controls. He felt intense relief when the craft responded to him instantly. Even if Brandelis had somehow managed to download himself into the Puddlejumper's systems, he obviously couldn't bypass the ATA recognition technology.

"Okay, impulse engines coming online," he announced with a tone of triumph. Slowly, the ship made a u-turn towards the Daedalus and the Ancient satellite behind them. "I just hope we make it back before the Wraith ship gets here."

He opened a radio frequency with the jumper's computer. "Colonel Caldwell, I really hope you can hear this."

A second or so of static. And then:

"Colonel Sheppard, if this is really you, I hope you have a damn good explanation for what's happening out there."

Despite himself, Sheppard smirked at Ronon. "That'll have to wait, sir. Although I'm a little confused as to why you might think I'm not me."

"Let's just say we've been fooled once, Colonel. What's your status?"

Ronon rolled his eyes and backed away from the controls, taking a heavy seat in one of the chairs behind Sheppard.

"Well, obviously I've regained control of the jumper," Sheppard said, half-concentrating on putting as much power into the engines as he could risk. "We're on our way back to pick up McKay and Major Lorne now. Our friendly neighborhood computer virus apparently doesn't mind letting them be his collateral damage."

"Delay that action, Colonel," said Caldwell from his position aboard the vast ship. "Stay clear of the satellite until all hostile craft have been destroyed. That's an order. Caldwell out."

The colonel's face twisted in confusion. "What?" he said, essentially to himself. For in the next moment, he had his answer.

In a brilliant blue flash, a Wraith hive ship dropped out of hyperspace on the opposite side of the Ancient satellite. It reflected against the surface of his eyes as he stared out at the gargantuan vessel of destruction.

"Oh, shit."

The hive ship opened fire.

TBC

AN: I'm cruel to Lorne and Rodney.