A/N: Yeah, sorry guys. I know it's been a while since I posted, but here ya go... I finished "What Have I Done?" and so now I present to you a new chapter here as well! Hope you're enjoying the suspense!
Radek Zelenka rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He'd only managed to get a few hours of sleep before Dr. Weir had ordered the briefing in which he and the remaining senior staff manning the city were now in attendance. The same circles that ringed his eyes graced both Teyla's and Dr. Weir's as well, and he wished that he had something to say that could've alleviated some of the stress and worry that was afflicting his friends, but there had been none. The only one who didn't seem thoroughly exhausted was Ronon, but as good as he was at hiding his fatigue, the others at the table knew him better than to think that he did not also suffer with them.
"Whoever designed the device did a very thorough job of encoding the information within it," he explained tiredly, pushing his glasses back up further along the bridge of his nose. "I cannot break the encryption algorithm, not without many, many weeks of computational processing. And by then…"
No one blamed him for being unwilling to finish those dreaded words. No one wanted to accept that it might be too late Colonel Sheppard, Dr. McKay, and Dr. Beckett already. Dr. Weir rubbed at her chin, trying to push the exhaustion out of mind.
"Do we have any options or alternatives?" Dr. Weir addressed the question to no one in particular, but the expressions of those around her remained uncharacteristically aloof.
"Of course we do," Ronon chimed in unexpectedly, turning expectantly to Zelenka. "You can turn that thing back on, can't you?"
Everyone's eyes shifted to Zelenka, then to Ronon, then back.
"Well," Radek began furtively. "Yes, I can."
Ronon's eyes tracked back to Dr. Weir. "Send me through."
Radek scoffed disbelievingly, shaking his head and trying not to offend the Satedan too much with his harsh words. "Ronon, even if I could manage to make the device think that you have the gene, that's suicide."
"If we want them back, we may not have much of a choice any more," Teyla reluctantly agreed.
"Give me one of your homing beacons and send me through," he affirmed plainly, not moving a muscle. "I can take care of myself until the ship can track us down."
Dr. Weir sighed, her brows furrowing. "You do realize, Ronon, that we have no idea what kind of resistance you might encounter wherever you end up, don't you?"
"Yeah," Ronon confirmed simply.
"If the Wraith are behind this, it may very well be suicide," she said with great trepidation. She didn't want to rashly risk Ronon's life in this manner, but there were no other options available to them at the moment, and if he was willingly volunteering himself, the idea did have some hope of succeeding. "And there's no way of telling for sure how far the Daedalus will have to travel in order to find you. Are you sure you understand the risks?"
"Does that mean you're actually going to let him do this?" Radek asked incredulously. He could hardly believe that she was considering the ludicrousness of the whole idea.
"If they've been taken just because of the gene, then it's probably safe to say that Colonel Sheppard, Dr. McKay, and Dr. Beckett are still alive, and I don't think they'd immediately kill Ronon, either," Dr. Weir explained logically. "Can you do it, Radek?"
He sighed and frowned, but did not argue further. "Yes, I think so. I'll need a couple of hours to put the device back together, though."
"Then do it. Give Ronon a sub-space transmitter, and inform Colonel Caldwell to stand by at the planet for coordinates once you're ready to activate the device."
John was thankful that Rodney's pain hadn't lasted long. He wasn't sure how much longer he could've stood by and simply sat and watched as his friend writhed on the floor of the hut. Carson had stayed by his side, not that there was much that he could do for him. But now, between John's infection and fever, Rodney's pain, and a decisive lack of healing herb to go around, it was John himself that had kept Carson the busiest.
When a squabble between members of the two different camps had broken out, Carson had been quick to act in order to stop it before it came to blows, and somehow, John remarked to himself that Carson seemed to appear less human with each passing minute. The dark clumps hair on his wrists that had appeared patchy earlier that day were now fully mane-like, and had spread up his chest, arms, and neck, and had made his short, but dark and gruff beard appear thicker and more fur-like. He was truly beginning to look like he would fit in with the creatures that lived in these camps quite well.
There just wasn't enough time. Struggling to prop himself up on his elbows despite the chills that the fever was giving him, John motioned to speak with Lo'Nan. Carson had gone to help Anara retrieve more water from the well, but had returned quickly and was just behind Lo'Nan. Rodney dozed huddled up uncomfortably in another corner of the cramped hut, and was woken up by their conversation, but said nothing.
"I think we should organize a raid on the compound as quickly as possible," John said to Lo'Nan weakly. "If we don't focus our efforts on escaping from the Wraith quickly enough, I'm concerned that the suspension of hostilities between your camps won't last very long."
"I would tend to agree," Lo'Nan affirmed reluctantly, settling down to sit at John's side.
John swallowed against the taste of bile in his mouth. "I think we should act tonight."
"You're in no condition to do any fighting tonight, Colonel," Carson said firmly and protectively while he helped to set up a pot of water to boil over the fire.
"Nevertheless, he has a point," Lo'Nan said softly. "We do not have much time to act before our attempt to form an alliance fails. Our camps have been fighting for a long time now, and if we do not band against the Wraith quickly, our warring will not be forgotten."
"If you fight, you'll reopen the wound on your chest," Carson explained irritably, unwilling to negotiate. "Not to mention the fact that your fever is too—"
John and Rodney both watched in horror as Carson's face contorted with an expression of pure pain and anguish as he fell to his hands and knees. John sat up straight through the pain, but his aching body would not permit him to go to Carson's aid. Rodney went to his aid, though, and held his head steady as he thrashed about for a few moments, and then was still. It had seemed to be over far too quickly for Carson to have suffered from another spell of pain himself, but as he sat up, he panted heavily against the lingering discomfort.
Carson's skin itched everywhere, and his jaw again felt as if he'd just been kicked in the face by a horse. It took him a few moments to realize that the reason everyone was staring at him so strangely now was because his transformation into a beastly image of a man had just completed itself. Rodney shivered with apprehension as Carson looked up at him with eyes that seemed to glow red.
Nia had gone to retrieve what assistance she could from the rest of her camp some time ago, and now Lo'Nan, Carson, Rodney, and John all waited among the trees just out of sight of the compound's rear door for them to arrive. It had been a struggle for John to walk with them there, but he had done his best not to show his discomfort and shivering as Rodney helped to keep him steady on his feet.
Only the softest of footfalls had given away Nia's group as they made their approach, and even Noraan had managed to muster the strength to follow them into the depths of the compound that had treated them all so cruelly. He limped forward with Nia's aid and the aid of a strong walking stick, and Carson then realized why Tregan, and not Noraan, had always led the raids on their enemy camp. Noraan was lame.
Even Anara and Jol'Nan had come to make their stand, despite the danger. Lo'Nan had smiled proudly when his son had spoken of his desire to assist his father, and had originally planned to have Anara and Jol'Nan to watch over the entrance, but had come to the realization that if their plan was to succeed, that they should all escape together, or none would. Tonight would be the night that their freedom would be either won or lost, and it would be done as a single people united, just as it should always have been.
"Looks like just about everyone made it," John said feebly as he peered around at the myriad of beastly faces that surrounded him, and then turned to Rodney. "Are you ready try the door again?"
Rodney sighed, then handed John over to Carson's care, and remarked to himself that at least he did not seem to struggle so much to support the burden of John's weight. Deftly ripping the panel from the door's entryway, he cross-circuited a few wires until the panel shorted. The resultant click was exactly the same as he had heard last time, and Rodney found himself hoping that it was the last parallel to their previous attempt at breaking in that they were to encounter.
Lo'Nan and a few of his stronger friends stepped forward to pry the sliding doors apart, then hesitantly stepped back to peer into the ensuing darkness before cautiously entering. The architecture was plain steel, spartanly laid out with no paint, nor even sheetrock wall panels placed to cover the clusters of ducts and pipes overlaying the walls everywhere. The darkness parted in the distance to a well-placed, but ill-powerful light bulb that illuminated a section of walkway.
John fearlessly stepped forward, continuing to ignore his discomfort, and Rodney, Carson, Lo'Nan, and Nia followed close behind. There were no Wraith, nor any of their human worshippers in sight, but that did not mean that they weren't lurking in some dark corner, waiting to ambush them. But so far, no alarms or sirens had sounded.
A shot from a Wraith weapon streaked through the darkness, nearly catching John on the shoulder. He backpedaled away from the railing unsteadily, but caught his balance just in time to see a glimpse of a Wraith warrior on a floor far below them, who promptly ran toward the wall. It manipulated a control panel, and suddenly all around them, alarms began to blaze. So much for sneaking in.
"Everybody, move!" he shouted irritably, and then began to jog across to the other side of the walkway. Upon arriving at a confusing crossroads of intersecting corridors, he could not be sure which way to run. He began pointing and motioning, dividing the raiders up into teams, trying to make their haphazard group into some semblance of order. "You, you, you, and you, split up and find the Stargate! Report back here in a few minutes! We'll hold them off!"
More Wraith warriors appeared from other corridors, and mass chaos ensued as beasts threw their bodies against them, fighting viciously for their freedom. Then suddenly, a shadowy figure that had lurked unnoticed at the rear of the group appeared and turned on Lo'Nan, sinking his claws deep into the flesh of his back. Yelping with pain, Lo'Nan tried to fight back, but was put at a severe disadvantage by the injury.
"Tregan! No!" Carson yelled at the top of his lungs, but his warning went unheeded. With a snarl that frightened John, Carson threw himself at the shadowy creature and sent it flying back against the walkway railing, over which it toppled in a flurry of desperate grasping, to no avail. Tregan plummeted level after level down to the bottom-most floor, landing back first. He lied there for a moment before he miraculously picked himself up off the floor, just before being quickly surrounded by a dozen Wraith. They attempted to tackle him, but despite his profuse bleeding and injuries, he threw them off of him and ran.
A group of scouts returned a moment later and motioned with their claws in the direction of one of the corridors. "We found the Stargate! This way!"
But the scouts were promptly cut down by a rain of weapons fire from a group of Wraith that had managed to circle around behind them. Beastly bodies were being stunned into unconsciousness left and right, and before long, the only ones who remained standing were John, Rodney, and Carson. When a Wraith stepped forward brandishing his stunner menacingly, Carson snarled and stepped protectively in front of his friends. The gesture earned him a shot in the chest from their weapons, and he fell at their feet.
John and Rodney's hands were bound behind their backs, and then were promptly led to a cell where they were made to wait for their fate. Little did they know that in the very next cell, the unconscious form of Ronon Dex also waited for his fate.