Ophidia
A Stargate Atlantis Fanfic
Monday, 13 August 2007
Chapter 10: Dawning
What now.
"That's a… damn… good question," Sheppard managed to get out, finding it harder and harder to keep his face above the water level. He tilted his head back, trying to just float instead of putting all his effort into treading water, but he knew even that was dangerous. He was losing what little body heat he had left by submerging his neck and part of his head. "That door was partly open, right?" he asked at length. The colonel was sure it had been, but then, he was also fairly sure that hypothermia wasn't conducive to good memory.
"Mm..hmm…" Kaczynski replied, feeling the effects of the cold himself. "You… wanna try and get through?" he asked, somehow managing to sound a little incredulous.
Sheppard let out a short bark of laughter. "You'd rather stay here?"
The corporal winced, getting a bit of saltwater in his mouth in the process. He shook his head, despite their pitch black surroundings. "No," he added. "Guess not."
"Okay," the colonel said, and Kaczynski thought he could feel the other man release him. "Let's try and find the right wall first, before we start trying to dive or anything."
Sounds like a plan, Kaczynski thought, bringing one shivering arm up from the water, blindly feeling for the edge of the hall.
Instead of slowing their pace, Teyla and Ronon had found this last leg of their excursion to be the fastest— power was most definitely on in this section, with pumps moving enough water out that once they were inside, they could wade along the lower levels instead of swim.
It was unnerving.
It shouldn't be this easy, Ronon thought. There should have been more resistance. More traps, especially so close. Though part of him pointed out, getting here wasn't easy, something deeper told him to stay on edge.
"Looks like they're not down here," he muttered, but Teyla shook her head, placing one finger over her lips. Ronon frowned, but did as she wanted and fell silent— as silent as one could be, breathing heavy and dripping water. Ahead, the Athosian woman was creeping through the water, towards another door leading outside the city— just beyond it was a short staircase, where water was flowing quite rapidly.
"There," she said, pointing. Teyla wasn't sure of what made her so certain, but she was. It was the only place.
Ronon's frown deepened, though. "That balcony would be almost underwater."
She shook her head yet again. "Look at the water's flow. There must be a pump close by that keeps the water levels low enough."
The Satedan sized up the stairwell again, fighting the sudden urge to storm through the door and up the stairs, and plant a very large boot in the face of whoever was sabotaging their city. "That's going to make getting up there hard," he said, instead, reluctantly. They'd have to fight the current to get up those stairs, leaving them vulnerable. "We're gonna have to find another way."
He glanced over at Teyla, who was staring up at the stairs, at the point where the wall blocked the rest from sight— and with them, their enemy. "Perhaps we should split up," she finally said, before dropping her gaze and exchanging a meaningful look with Ronon.
Carrozales and Riley, not to mention the medical personnel, stared at their command staff nervously. When Dr. Weir glanced over at them, they quickly made themselves busy securing Beckett to the stretcher he had been placed on, gathering up medical equipment— anything to avoid hers or Major Lorne's gaze.
To see arguments among their leaders was a rarity— the implication that Dr. Beckett was now a threat had thrown most of them for a loop. When the major had pulled his gun on the unconscious doctor, Carrozales had just about drawn his own weapon, thinking something was wrong with his commanding officer. But not only had Major Lorne been acting sane… Weir had treated him seriously; both now wore dark, unsettled expressions, but weren't letting on as to what this was all about. Carrozales glanced over at Riley, surprised to see that his teammate had a similarly grim look on his face. "Qué pasa?" he muttered, and Riley started.
Realizing it was Carrozales asking, he sighed. "You never served in the SGC, did you?" The man shook his head, and Riley hesitated, letting Lorne, Weir, and the med staff get ahead; Carrozales hung back with him. After a moment longer, Riley shook his head. "Man, you don't want to know." When the other marine scowled, he tilted his head to the side, thinking of what to say. How do you explain this kind of thing to someone?
Giving in, he recounted what he knew about the parasitical creatures— one of which could well be in Dr. Carson Beckett— watching Carrozales grow more and more pale as they walked on through Atlantis. At one point, he thought the guy was going to throw up, and hastily cut story-time short.
When they reached the next stairwell, Riley noticed Carrozales hesitate to move up and help with the stretcher. Stepping up himself, before Major Lorne noticed, Riley helped lift it up over the first few stairs— Carrozales pulled himself together, aiding with the other end of the stretcher.
They hadn't gone more than a few feet like this, before someone ducked over the top of the stairwell and gasped, catching the assembled party's attention. Flashlights and weapons were trained onto a female scientist who let out a yelp of fear, recoiling slightly. Weir raised one hand to call off the military personnel— the two marines noticed that their commanding officer didn't ease up, instead turning to face the stretcher they were holding, finger still close to the trigger.
"Dr. Kusanagi?" Weir called, meanwhile, not noticing the officer's behavior.
The woman looked over at them again, nodding. "Dr. Weir," she replied, relief evident in her voice. "And— oh," she said, covering her mouth with one hand. "Is Dr. Beckett alright?" she asked, anxiously.
One of the medics responded, saying, "He will be if we can get him to the infirmary."
Kusanagi winced, causing Weir and the others below to frown. "I'm afraid the infirmary is currently unusable."
"What do you mean?" Lorne asked, feeling even more ill at ease. Weir glanced over at the Air Force officer, and he caught her expression— she realized, at least, that they needed to get Beckett to the MRI scanner in there, he decided. "What's wrong with it?"
Starting to come down the stairs so as not to have to shout, Kusanagi fiddling with the glasses on her face. "It's all but frozen over in there," she said, almost apologetically. Weir could see that the woman didn't take being the bearer of bad news that well— she was too distracted by the news itself, though, to take much further notice.
"Frozen?" she asked, growing alarmed. "What's been happening in the past few hours?" she demanded.
It was Kusanagi's turn to look perplexed. "The whole city's been malfunctioning," she said, almost uncertainly.
Weir seemed taken aback, and Lorne took that moment to intervene again. "The whole city?" he repeated. "We know the power was going out…"
"Oh," the small woman started, "that's not the half of it. Environmental controls, communications, quarantine protocol," she listed, ticking each one off on her fingers. "Water pumps, fire suppression—"
"Wait, wait, water pumps?" Lorne broke in. "I can get the others, but… what could be wrong with the pumps, we're not under water," he said. Beside him, Weir could feel the hair on the back of her neck rising up.
Kusanagi's lips thinned for a moment, as she exhaled loudly through her nose. "Not yet," she remarked.
Weir seized upon that statement instantly— "Yet? The city is sinking?" The security team froze, realizing as she did what that could mean for their comrades below them.
"Not actively, no," Kusanagi said, expression darkening. "But the pumps are apparently now running in reverse— we're taking on water," she said, not noticing that she was losing the attention of her audience. "The lowest sections are already all but completely flooded." Lorne and Weir were now staring at each other again, their argument of earlier forgotten as their minds drifted down several levels, simultaneous realizations painting horror on their faces.
Kaczynski's hands ran along the wall beneath him, and he flexed his fingers, trying to force some feeling back into them. "Sir!" he finally called, realizing that his teeth were now chattering— he clenched his jaw shut, embarrassed, but his shivering gave him away, even as he exhaled loudly. "I think I found it," he muttered, hearing the slight splashes as Sheppard tried to find his way over in the dark.
"Good job, Corporal," Sheppard said, trying to steady himself against the wall. "Come on, let's get this over with," he added. If they didn't do something soon, it'd have the same results as getting it wrong. A real do or die moment, he reflected, before deciding he didn't like that idiom.
He heard Kaczynski take a deep breath, and imitated the marine, before submerging himself again, this time the temperature not making it so horrible. The only spots on him where he really felt the cold anymore were his chest and head, which the colonel supposed was a mixed blessing. Fumbling blindly across the wall, his hand suddenly slid through an opening that shouldn't have been there— he gave thanks silently.
Trying to make his fingers work, Sheppard placed one boot in the crack to give himself some leverage. He thought he could feel Kaczynski doing the same close by, and after several long moments, Sheppard felt the door give. Only an inch or two at first, but then a foot, and then, it was halfway open. Feeling for the marine, Sheppard eventually found the man's forearm, and his hand closed upon it, before pushing Kaczynski towards the opening. They didn't have time to try and surface for air— they needed to get to that staircase before the cold killed them.
After feeling Kaczynski go through, Sheppard moved to follow him. Strangely, his limbs worked only sluggishly, and he wondered what was wrong, pausing halfway through. He didn't feel cold. He… didn't really feel much of anything. Except maybe weary.
Tired… he was definitely tired…
One step at a time. Forgoing any sense of dignity, Teyla leaned forward, using her free hand to help her up the stairs.
She hadn't realized how much water was coming over them. It was a struggle not to be pushed back off, and even harder to remain silent in that struggle.
The early Lantean sunrise was probably about an hour or so off— the sky was definitely lighter, and taking on a green, yellowed tinge. It cast dim shadows about the area, and Teyla only hoped that hers would not betray her. Or, she thought, with a pang of worry, that the light would reveal Ronon.
Peeking around the corner, she could see a someone settled on the balcony's railing, blithely tapping away at something in their lap, as water rushed under said rail, flooding the balcony and creating the current that she was now fighting. But her mind gradually turned from the current, and focused more on the man sitting in front of her.
A kind of sick feeling worked its way into Teyla's stomach. The figure was relaxed, its movements strangely graceful while it sat straight backed, regarding its work with a half smile. But the person's silhouette was familiar, despite the strange demeanor. Impossibly familiar…
Teyla licked her lips, her mouth suddenly feeling very dry. "Rodney?"
McKay's head snapped up, and he started a little. "Teyla? Oh thank God," he said, sounding relieved and even a little frightened— in stark contrast to what she had just witnessed. Had it been a trick of the light?
"Rodney," she repeated, still uncertain. "What are you doing?" He followed her line of sight to the tablet sitting on his lap.
"Oh!" he said with a note of realization. "Well what do you think I'm trying to do?" McKay asked, as if it should have been obvious. "I'm trying to fix the City! Have you seen what's happening?" He watched Teyla slowly rise, moving towards him through the water, and his eyes widened as he saw the stunner in her hand. "What's that for?" McKay asked, his voice holding a slight tremor.
Teyla ignored him. "I have seen Atlantis. It is suffering many problems, everywhere in the City." She stopped, about halfway between him and the stairs, regarding him carefully. "Everywhere but here."
"What?" McKay replied, incredulous. He set his tablet down on the wide railing, before sliding off, splashing slightly in the foot-or-so-deep water. "You don't think I— whoa!"
McKay came to a halt as Teyla's stunner came up to face him. "Come no closer," she warned him. "Or I will fire."
"What are you doing?" McKay demanded. "Teyla, it's me. Rodney, remember?" he said, voice going a bit high. "I came here because it was the only place that was safe. So I could fix everything!" He licked his lips nervously, eyeing the weapon in her hands. "Think! Why would I try to sabotage Atlantis?"
The Athosian narrowed her eyes, wary. "I would like to know that myself." Perhaps she would have been more willing to accept the proof before her if she had not seen the physicist's earlier behavior— it had seemed so… incongruous. Too much did not add up.
"Of course," he concluded, nodding helplessly. McKay let out a nervous laugh, starting to shuffle to the side. "A stunner. Nice," he remarked, trying to seem impressed but sounding only frightened. The front of the weapon dipped slightly as Teyla began to wonder if she might be wrong. "Wish I had thought of that," he continued, trying to edge past the Athosian, hands going down to feel at the wall behind him. Teyla took one menacing step forward, halting McKay's attempts to get past her. He swallowed. "Pity, really…" he said, forcing a smile, starting to bring one placating hand back up. "All I thought to bring was… this."
Many things seemed to happen at once: Teyla realized that McKay had not been reaching for the wall and his hand was not placatingly empty at about the same time the Beretta let out a thunderous report.
Crying out in surprise, Teyla scrambled to duck, slipping and ending up on her hands and knees in the water.
Snapping her head frantically up, Teyla grew very still, seeing McKay pointing an M9 at her head, little expression on his face, but for a small smile.
