Out of Legends
by Soledad
Author's Notes:
For disclaimer, rating and other details see the Introduction.
Some elements might seem familiar from the three-parter "The Siege". However, let me assure you that they are, in fact, very different from the original.
Beta read by erinnyes. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Chapter 14 – Heroes, Part 3
When a devastated Rodney McKay came back to Atlantis, good eighteen hours later – he didn't dare to fly the jumper at full speed on his own – Atlantis was in the middle of the evacuation process.
"Stackhouse has found a suitable Alpha site," Major Lorne told him, "and when your call came in, we ordered all non-military personnel to evacuate."
"What about the military personnel?" Rodney asked.
Lorne shrugged. "We've decided to stay here for a while and defend Atlantis as long as possible. Halling and Sheppard are discussing defensive measures with Dr. Weir and Mr. Kirkitadze right now. The Athosians want to stay, too, at least those of them who know how to fight."
"Where's Major Vogel?" Rodney asked.
"In the Infirmary," Lorne answered grimly. "He had an… encounter with our resident Wraith."
"Our resident Wraith?" Rodney's voice gained that slightly hysterical quality again. He couldn't help it. Things were simply becoming too much for him. "Since when do we have a resident Wraith again?"
"Apparently, since a couple of weeks," Lorne said with a shrug. "We're still trying to figure out what he was doing here all the time." He nodded in the direction of the Control room. "You should join them, Doc."
"Me?" McKay asked nervously. "What for?"
"Sheppard has an idea," Lorne said. "And he needs you and Dr. Z to make it work."
For some reason – perhaps because he had become way too familiar with Sheppard's ideas for his own comfort – that piece of news didn't help to soothe Rodney's frayed nerves. "Am I gonna like it?" he asked.
Lorne didn't answer him at once, and the darkening of his face told otherwise.
"No, I don't think so," he finally said. "Just… go and let him tell you. I'll be with you as soon as the last evac group is prepared."
Rodney was so exhausted, both physically and emotionally, that his legs were trembling while he descended the stairs from the jumper bay. Entering the Control room, he found it fairly crowded. He saw Sheppard, Halling, Kirkitadze, Naseband, Ford, and Theresa Weir – a pale and tense, but determined Theresa Weir – gathering around a table. The Wraith ships' route was displayed on a large screen. Zelenka was sitting in front of it, adjusting the scanners, and that Danish lady pilot, Annalisa something, was standing behind him.
"Welcome back, Rodney," Theresa said, giving him the ghost of a smile. Rodney nodded absent-mindedly.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Our scanners show that hive ships have started moving again," Zelenka replied tiredly, without turning to him, "although their pace has slowed considerably."
"Obviously, you gave them something to think about," Sheppard commented.
Theresa Weir shrugged. "If they get here in two hours or two days, doesn't change the fact that we're out of options. We can't hope to fight them. So unless either of you have any more ideas..."
"Actually," Sheppard drawled, "I do have one." Before he could elaborate, though, Lorne entered.
"The last group is assembled and ready for evac," he reported. "But before we start arming the self-destruct device, you should hear out Sheppard, ma'am. I really think that his idea has its merits."
Theresa Weir rubbed her burning eyes and turned to Sheppard. "All right, Major, I'm all ears. Tell me about that idea of yours."
"It's a simple one, really," Sheppard said. "We wait till the hive ships are within range, and then target 'em."
"With what?" Rodney asked acerbically. "By throwing stones?"
"No, we fly a puddle jumper in stealth mode right down their throats."
"And that's gonna help us how exactly?" Rodney demanded. "Even if we overload the jumper's engines, the explosion won't be nearly strong enough to destroy a hive ship."
"It will, if it has a naquadah bomb aboard," Sheppard said.
"We don't have a naquadah bomb!" Rodney retorted.
"But we have naquadah generators," Sheppard pointed out. "It couldn't be so hard for you and Radek here to turn them into bombs."
"Perhaps not," Rodney admitted sullenly. "But in case you've forgotten, those generators happen to power the entire city, including the Gate room. There will be no self-destruct without them; we won't even be to gate to the Alpha site!""Which is the reason whey we've evacuated all non-military personnel already," Sheppard said.
"You do realize Major, that what you're suggesting is basically a suicide mission, don't you?" Kirkitadze asked.
Sheppard shrugged. "I'm volunteering. It's our only chance to save Atlantis, and I think it would be a shame not to try everything else before we actually give up."
"I concur," Halling spoke softly. "Our people have no weapons that could destroy hive ships, but should the Wraith land, we shall help you to defend the city of the Ancestors."
"Are you so eager to have even more people dead?" Theresa Weir asked with controlled bitterness. "Have we not lost enough friends already?"
"If we give up Atlantis without a fight, they'll have died for nothing!" Sheppard retorted hotly.
"And if even more people die needlessly, that won't make them alive again… or give their deaths any more sense," Theresa answered evenly. "That's not what truly matters at the moment. What matters is that we might have a chance to save the city, and the entire knowledge of the Ancients with it. The only question is, whether we can afford the moral responsibility for the price it will cost us." She looked at Kirkitadze. "What do you think, Sevarion? Should we take the risk? Aside form Major Sheppard's personal sacrifice, those naquadah generators will be sorely missed on the Alpha site, if we fail to save the city after all."
"True," Kirkitadze said, "But if we're forced to leave Atlantis, we'll have to adapt to a more… low-tech life anyway. As much as I hate the thought to send people to their certain deaths… we're at war, Theresa."
"And where's war, there are casualties," Zelenka added grimly.
Theresa sighed. "I'm still less than happy about this, but… with a very great deal of luck, it actually might work. Radek, you and Rodney should start working on those naquadah bombs immediately. We're running out of time."
Zelenka nodded and stood, swaying slightly on his feet, and rubbed his stubbly face. "Will need something to stay awake," he said to Rodney, already on his way out. "Coffee would be good thing right now."
"Right, right," Rodney was hurrying after him. "Coffee's good. Or we can ask Carson for something, you know, more efficient?"
"That leaves us with another unpleasant question," Kirkitadze said after the doors had closed after them. "Who's going to be the other kamikaze pilot?"
"Well, Major Vogel is in no position to do so, and Miller's dead," Lorne said. "That leaves me."
"No," Kirkitadze shook his head, "we can't afford to lose you, too. With Major Sheppard out of the equation and Major Vogel invalid, you'll be the only senior officer left to serve at your full abilities. We can't leave our soldiers without a capable leader. You must act as the military commander, until Vogel has recovered."
"I'll go," Annalisa Lindstrom, who'd taken over the supervision of the long-range sensors from Zelenka, said calmly.
"Lisa, no!" Aiden protested. His friend gave him a gentle smile.
"Aiden, I'm the logical choice," she said. "I'm a combat pilot, and an experienced one; they didn't call me 'Stinger' without a reason. And I'm single; I won't leave anyone behind."
"Yes, but you're a…" Aiden trailed off, realizing the utter stupidity of his argument.
"A woman?" she laughed. "Yes, I am, but I'm also a soldier, just like you. You don't need to protect me, just because we're friends."
"Lieutenant," Lorne said quietly, before Aiden cold have protested any more," she's right. I hate this every bit as much as you do, but she is the logical choice – not to mention the fact that she's a much better pilot than either Major Vogel or me."
Annalisa grinned. "To think that I had to volunteer for a suicide mission for my CO to admit that! We girls don't have it easy in the armed forces, no matter in which country."
"Lieutenant Lindstrom… Lisa… are you really sure you want to do this?" Dr. Weir asked.
Lisa nodded. "Yes, ma'am, I'm absolutely sure. It needs to be done, and I'm the best woman for the job."
Theresa sighed. "Very well, then. If we've covered here everything, we should start organizing our defences."
"I'll see to that, with Lieutenant Ford's help," Lorne rose. "Halling, I could use your insight as well. Oh, and by the way, where is Teyla?"
"She wanted to try getting some information from the Wraith," Sheppard said.
Aiden frowned. "Sir, is that a wise thing, after what happened to her?"
"I was the one who asked her," Theresa said. "We need to know if the Alpha site was compromised. Don't worry, Aiden; two of your men are with her, just in case. But you can go down to the brig and check on her if it makes you feel better."
"I think I'll do just that," Aiden replied. "Thank you, ma'am."
When he reached the brig, Teyla and the Wraith were staring at each other unblinkingly through the bars of the holding cell. Teague, looking more like a polished black Buddha statue than ever, was sweating profoundly, while aiming his pistol at the Wraith. Rickman had one hand on the off switch of the energy barrier surrounding the cell, ready to drop it any minute Teague might need to shoot the prisoner.
"What are you doing, vermin?" the Wraith snarled. Teyla didn't answer, just kept staring at it. The Wraith's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to get inside my mind?" It stared back at her with the same intensity. "Well, in that case… allow me."
It obviously concentrated, taking over the link with brutal force. After a few moments, Teyla gasped, clutched her head and collapsed to the floor, wailing in pain.
"Teyla!" Aiden cried out in alarm. "Stop it! Shut it off! "
As he rushed to Teyla's aid, Rickman deactivated the forcefield around the cell. Teague stepped forward and shot the Wraith twice with his pistol, straight in the chest. The Wraith snarled in anger, but his link with Teyla was broken.
Aiden helped Teyla to sit up. "Are you okay?" he asked in concern.
Teyla nodded, still a little nauseous from the experience. The Wraith glared at Teague with a sneer, delighting in the big man's obvious discomfort.
"My wounds will heal," it said. "And then, I will feast on you… on all of you!"
"I do not think so," Teyla rolled to her feet smoothly, snatched Teague's pistol and shot the Wraith thirteen times in rapid success. "No-one makes me hurt my friends and lives to tell the tale," the Wraith fell to its knees, and Teyla shot it two more times. She then ejected the cartridge and reloaded, snatching Aiden's spare ammo to do so. "No-one, have you heard me?"
Still on its knees, the Wraith snarled at her. She fired another three shots into the creature, and it finally collapsed to the floor. It raised its head and glared at her with pure, undiluted hatred.
"Those who feed upon you will know what you've done to me," it rasped.
"Good," Teyla said coldly. "I would hate to see my reputation as a warrior ruined." And with that, she shot the Wraith three more times.
"Hey," Aiden said, "don't you think maybe you've gone a bit too far?"
"Not far enough, I would say," Teyla answered. "Besides, we do not need him any longer. What we needed to know, I have learned. There is no need to endure his presence anymore."
She aimed again and emptied the entire magazine into the creature's chest. The Wraith fell back and died.
Teague, as if released from some bad spell, nodded in appreciation. Whatever Sergeant Bates might have thought of Teyla, she was very obviously a highly capable warrior.
"Neat work, ma'am," he said. "Have you learned anything useful?"
"I have," Teyla replied. "It was as Dr. Zelenka thought. The Wraith was sent to study the city's layout, spy out its most vulnerable spots… and to sabotage our power sources. Unfortunately, he learned about the self-destruct plan from me, and managed to transmit the information to his hive."
"Shouldn't we have picked up the transmission?" Rickman asked with a frown.
Aiden shrugged. "If we can send secure messages, there's no reason why they couldn't."
"Actually, it was a telepathic message," Teyla said. "There was no way you could have intercepted it."
"Has the Alpha site been compromised?" Aiden asked.
Teyla shook her head. "Since I was not aware of its location, the Wraith could not take that knowledge from me. We will be safe there."
"That's good," Aiden looked at his men. "Boss, Al, get this… thing to the Infirmary, maybe Dr. B wants to take a look at him. I'll go to Dr. Weir with Teyla."
'Boss' Teague nodded. "Understood, sir. Hey, Rickman," he looked at his team-mate, "perhaps we could use a gurney here, eh?"
"That could help," Rickman agreed, and he hurried off to get one.
Charlie Miller came to in a room of indefinite designation. It was of moderate size, of a rectangular shape, and there were dysfunctional consoles and dead screens all along the walls on each side. Nonetheless, the whole thing had a distinct Ancient feel – in fact, it vaguely reminded him of Atlantis' Gate room, right after the expedition's arrival.
Before Major Sheppard would have touched anything, called the whole place back to life.
Could this be – wherever this was, although he believed it might be the inside of the asteroid – some abandoned Ancient outpost? If yes, then perhaps a true miracle had happened, and he, Charlie Miller, might get the chance to live beyond the five-hour air limit of the EVA suit.
He clambered to his feet and walked around in the room, randomly touching controls on his way. Some controls came alive immediately. Others blinked awake a bit more sluggishly. About a third of them showed no reaction at all. They were probably damaged – or had run out of power a long time ago. He regretted not having a laptop with him, with the regularly updated Ancient technical database. That would have helped with the recognition of the various systems, which was his first priority right now. He needed to find the environmental controls before his air supply would run out.
His Ancient being sketchy at best, he decided to simply try out each working console, one after another. The configuration of the systems was only vaguely familiar, as if he had to deal with something older, less sophisticated than the Atlantis standard. Older even than the outpost on Antarctica, if the reports he'd read were any indication. Still, all this had to be of Ancient origins, as the systems reacted to his gene. Besides, he had nothing else to do.
Unlike in sci-fi movies, where these things always happened in the last nanosecond, he still had air for about twenty-four minutes left when, with a low, humming noise, the environmental systems came alive around him. Lights blinked, then stabilized in a steady glow, artificial gravity slowly established itself, breathable air was being pumped into the room. He managed to figure out the readings on the environmental control screen and took off the EVA suit in relief.
For an hour or two, he fell into exhausted sleep, right there on the control room's floor. It was hard and cold, but the suit served as an acceptable bed – if one was tired enough. The heating system was still working itself up to a decent temperature, but he was just too drained to care about the possibility of catching a cold. He had to sleep to be able to think clearly afterwards.
He awoke to the dual feelings of hunger and the pressing urge to relieve himself. Groggily, he got up to restart his survey. Fortunately for him, the systems still reacted to his gene, even though a little sluggishly, and a slide door, leading to the Ancient equivalent of a washroom, opened on his left. It was strange, how much small creature comforts could mean in extreme situations; he nearly wept at the sight of the familiar facilities.
Having used the washroom, he continued his search for something edible. Making himself understood by the systems proved to be a lot harder in that particular area – it seemed that the Ancients had had a very different concept of food. After several fruitless efforts, he mentally asked to be shown the other rooms of this outpost, and found something akin a dormitory with six double bunks, a small mess hall with three tables, and an even smaller kitchen that consisted of a deep freezer unit of the size of a walk-in closet and the Ancient version of a microwave to thaw them. At least he hoped it was a microwave. He chose a random package – they all looked the same, and the writing on the wrappings didn't tell him much – put it into the microwave… or whatever it really was… and fervently prayed for a hot meal.
A few moments later the… thing beeped. Small metal pincers within removed the wrapping, then the door opened, and a steaming bowl of something indefinable slid out on a tray. It was… it was green. He reached for it carefully and found, to his relief, that the outside of the bowl wasn't hot. In fact, it was barely lukewarm. He bent his head over the bowl, half-expecting the unmistakable scent of spinach, based on the look of the substance in it, but the foodstuff had no particular scent.
It had no particular taste, either. It wasn't actually bad, it was just – well, it was bland. Even MREs were considerably better. But at lest was hot, and it did make him feel full and refreshed after he'd eaten it. Healthy and nutritious, most likely.
He pulled a face. No wonder the systems hadn't understood his request for food earlier. He'd mentally associated enjoyment with the idea of eating, and that, apparently hadn't been part of the Ancient concept. Well, at least he wouldn't starve here. The deep freezer unit contained thousands of these little packages. If he ate them long enough, maybe his taste buds would go all dormant on him and stopped expecting any stimulation.
He drank some water to wash down the lack of taste, and then continued his survey. His priorities were external sensors and some sort of comm system, now that his most basic needs were provided for. He wanted to know if the satellite weapon had done its work as expected, shooting the hive ships off the sky – or if Atlantis was still in grave danger.
It took him hours to locate the controls for the sensor array. Some of the circuits were broken, but he could bypass them with relative ease, and the screen above the console blinked alive, showing… nothing but empty space. He swore softly under his breath, realizing that learning how to adjust and aim the sensors would take a long time, even for someone of Dr. Zelenka's format. And there was no way he could compare himself with the scruffy little Czech.
So he abandoned the sensors for the time being and began to search for the comm system. Several hours – and another bland, tasteless meal – later, he finally found it… or what was left of it. The comm system was clearly beyond his skills of repair. The inside of the console was full of broken circuits, burned-out crystals and corroded parts. He doubted that even a certifiable genius like Rodney McKay would be able to do anything about it,
He sighed and slumped into the central chair of the control room. It was nothing like the command chair of Atlantis, or even Antarctica, but he had little doubt that it somehow served as the focus for all systems here. It had to. He wondered what might power it…
Without warning, the chair tilted backwards with him, and the holographic image of the outpost's layout appeared on the ceiling. He could see how the individual systems were interconnected, which systems were still working and which ones weren't, and in the centre of that complicated web, the power source was displayed as a true image.
It was a ZPM. Or, to be more accurate, something very similar. Perhaps an older prototype. Perhaps that was what this entire outpost, in the inside of a hollow asteroid, had been about: a place to test various systems and power sources. A science lab of some sort, as he could find no weapons within it at all.
He was unable to hold back a slightly hysterical giggle. There he was, with an intact ZPM, or, at least, with the next best thing to a ZPM, with enough food to live to the ripe age of a hundred and twenty, in a perfectly controlled, comfortable environment – and unable to contact Atlantis or to return to his colleagues. He had what Atlantis desperately needed, and had no way to deliver it, as his refuge had gone mute and deaf centuries ago, by the looks of it. He was going to die here, forgotten and alone, all the time having the very thing that could have saved him and all the others.
Life could be truly weird sometimes.
Standing on the balcony above the Gate room, Dr. Weir and Sevarion Kirkitdze watched Aiden Ford, who was organizing the distribution of the railguns they had brought with them right at the beginning but had never got the chance to actually use them, given that they were too large and heavy to be placed on a puddle jumper. In case of a siege, however – assuming that the city had been warned in time – they presented impressive firepower, delivering an impact velocity of Mach-five at fifty miles; plus, a standard magazine held ten thousand slugs.
They had originally been slated for the Prometheus to replace her close-in armament for the next refit, but – mostly at the late Colonel Sumner's request – had been reassigned to the Atlantis expedition in the last minute. Back then, Theresa had protested against the additional weaponry, pointing out how much valuable space it would take from more important scientific equipment, not to mention the items of simple creature comfort. For the first time, though, she was glad to have them. She still didn't believe that they would be able to stop the Wraith with those weapons, but at least they might slow them down… and hope for a miracle.
"Do you really believe that we have a chance, Sevarion?" she asked. "Not even the Ancients, with the command chair functioning and controlling thousands of drones, were able to stop them. No matter how many Wraith ships they destroyed, more kept coming. The Ancients won almost every battle, but they lost the war, in the end. And we are nowhere near as powerful as they had been."
"So are you suggesting to give up just like they did?" Kirkitadze asked. "To blow up the city and run, without a fight?"
She shrugged. "Even if we, by some miracle, might beat them this time, they'll come back. Until we kill the last one of them, they'll always come back. All we'll achieve is the death of even more friends… good, decent people, like Dr. Brendan, Lieutenant Miller and…" she couldn't speak Peter's name. It just hurt too much.
"And Dr. Grodin, yes, I know," Kirkitadze said gently. "I'm so very sorry, Theresa. I know the two of you were… close."
"Not that sort of close, we weren't," she clarified. "We were… friends, associates, good co-workers… on our way to perhaps, one day, become more. That day won't come now. Ever. And I'll live out my life, wondering about what could have been. It's almost worse than losing something… someone that I've actually had."
Kirkitadze nodded. "Sometimes it is worse indeed. And the worst part of it is not having any hard proof of our loss."
"Haven't we?" she asked. "He was aboard that satellite, Sevarion! It was blown to atoms by the Wraith! How could I have any doubts that he's gone?"
"The chance is slim, I know," Kirkitadze admitted. "But as Dr. Zelenka keeps telling us, Ancient technology is extremely redundant. Who knows, perhaps they had some sort of failsafe mechanism aboard the satellite to evacuate any endangered personnel. As long as we don't have a body, there's still hope. For Grodin, for Miller… for us all."
Theresa shook her head. "I can't let myself be mislead by illusions and 'maybe's. The sooner we come to closure and cut our losses, the better."
Kirkitadze was about to answer something, but the citywide alarm cut him off. "What's happening?" he called down to the Gate technicians working in the Control room.
The Canadian sergeant of night shift – his name was Charles Lenoir, but everyone simply called him Chuck, for some reason – glanced up to them in concern. "Multiple signals, sir. Closing fast."
"How comes that we haven't detected them earlier?" Kirkitadze asked.
Major Vogel, who'd been brought to the Control room in a wheelchair to orchestrate the city's defences, took a look at the control screen.
"They must have come out of hyperspace right on top of us," he remarked. "It's inconvenient but wasn't entirely unexpected. Are the gunners all in position?"
Aiden nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm on my way out to keep an eye on the situation." And he left indeed, with Yamato and Toussaint in trail. The other members of their team had been assigned to the guns.
"How about damage control parties?" Vogel asked.
"They're all in position," Naseband reported. His civilian security team had scattered across the city, leading other volunteers to strategically important places.
"Very well, then," Vogel said. "Darken the city, Sergeant."
"Darkening the city, yes, sir," Lenoir replied and threw the necessary switches. The Control room went almost completely dark.
The lights dimmed all across the city. The Marines at the railguns were gearing up, waiting for the first target to appear.
"Remember: short, steady bursts!" McKinney barked. "Make every single shot count. This is gonna be a long a tough fight."
The Marines lined up. Some of them, like Rickman, Aiden Ford, and even Major Lorne himself, had RPGs on their shoulders – those shoulder-held, anti-personnel rocket-propelled grenades had proved useful before, both against Goa'uld death gliders and Wraith darts. In the near-complete darkness, the characteristic whining sound of the latter one could soon be heard.
"Here they come!" McKinney shouted.
The railguns began to rattle. Missiles were fired all over the city at the incoming Wraith. Darts began to crash into the city, having been hit by RPGs. Shots were fired all over. Aiden whirled around to aim at a dart that had somehow managed to fly by and launched his next RPG. He had apparently been a bit hasty, as the RPG recoil hit him really hard. He winced. If he lived beyond this night, that would make a nasty bruise; not his first one, either. But at lest the dart had been hit and exploded in a fireball, just beyond the city. Good. Its smouldering wreck wouldn't damage anything within Atlantis.
Sheppard and Lindstrom couldn't afford to take active part in the current fight – they needed to survive long enough to take up the jumpers with the naquadah bombs, hopefully in time, to the approaching hive ships. But the waiting was getting to their nerves.
"Let's go down to the lab and see what McKay and Zelenka are doing," Sheppard suggested, and Lisa didn't need another invitation.
When they all but burst into the lab where the two scientists were working furiously on turning two harmless naquadah generators into bombs, they found Carson Beckett there with them. The doctor was injecting McKay with something.
"Hey," Sheppard said. "What the hell was that?"
"Just a little stimulant, Major, no need to get your BDUs in a twist," McKay replied. "I need something to keep me awake."
"Yeah, me too," Zelenka stretched out an arm in Carson's direction without even looking up from his work.
"Is that wise?" Sheppard asked, not liking the idea of artificially sending Rodney's already over-active mind into complete overdrive.
McKay turned bleary eyes at him for a moment. "Yeah, well, we're building nuclear bombs here. Staying awake is sort of a prerequisite, you know."
Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "Snappy, isn't he?" he asked Beckett.
The doctor sighed. "You have no idea, Major."
"Any idea when you'll be finished?" Sheppard turned back to McKay.
"No," Rodney said snappishly. "This is not what we do on a daily basis, so we have to be careful, or you'll have your firework a lot earlier than you'd wish. It'll be done when it'll be done!"
Sheppard and Lindstrom exchanged worried looks.
"We'll be in the jumper bay," Sheppard said. "Just send us the nukes when you're done."
"Right, right, you'll get them," Rodney answered, barely listening to him.
Sheppard and Lindstrom returned to the Control room, from where they had the easiest access to the jumper bay. Major Vogel had, in the meantime, manoeuvred his wheelchair closer to the balcony doors, to see the firefight with his own eyes. He felt woefully inadequate. Although an experienced pilot and a military lawyer, he'd never been in an actual battle before. He'd been often assigned to deal with the aftermath, often in dangerous places, yes, but never had missiles firing all around him.
Sheppard or Lorne, or even Lieutenant Ford would be much better suited to be in my place, he thought, following with his eyes the two pilots as they were climbing the stairs to the jumper bay. He'd have preferred to go and let Sheppard act as their dux bellorum, but they had no other choice. He was injured and expendable, so he got to sit here in relative safety and gave orders to the men who knew better what to do than he could hope.
Had the situation not been so desperate, he'd have laughed at the irony of it.
His earpiece came alive, interrupting his thoughts. "Major Vogel, this is Ratner."
He checked the man's position on his laptop. "Go ahead."
"Looks like some of them are starting to make kamikaze runs, sir!" Ratner reported.
Vogel paled, but before he could answer, there was a large explosion nearby somewhere, shaking the Control room. It went completely dark at once.
"Sergeant, what happened?" Dr. Weir asked.
"We've lost primary systems, ma'am," Lenoir answered grimly.
"Switch to secondary power," Dr. Weir ordered.
The power came up again, although with less intensity. Vogel saw a dart fly by, sweeping the whole area with its culling beam. He had a bad feeling as he was calculating its direction.
"Ferrell," he warned, "a dart is coming your way." There was no answer, which made him very nervous. "Ferrell, why aren't you firing?" he demanded. "Ferrell, report!"
Kirkitadze came over to him. "Is something wrong?" the lawyer asked. "I mean, beyond the obvious?"
"One of our gun positions is dark," Vogel replied. "I get no answer from the team leader."
"And I'm afraid you won't, sir," Aiden Ford's voice was grim in his ear. "The entire gun crew has just been swept up in the dart's culling beam, before my very eyes. I'm taking over the gun position and trying to shoot that dart down. It will be better for our people than…" He trailed off, as there wasn't really any need to elaborate.
A moment later, he reported in again, his voice terse. "Dart's down. I'll keep the gun position till relief arrives."
"I'm on my way, Lieutenant," Toussaint replied. "Hold on, I'm near your position."
It only took a few minutes for the grim-faced Aiden Ford to arrive in the Control room, his eyes glassy with pain. He was fingering his shoulder darkly.
"Are you injured?" Dr. Weir asked.
"Nothing serious, ma'am, just an RPG recoil bruise," he answered with a shrug; then he winced involuntarily. "Those things are damn hard to launch when you're ducking at the same time."
"I'll take a look at that shoulder in a minute, son," Dr. Beckett promised.
"Nah, doc, it's okay," Aiden said. "I've had worse… and I must go back to my men. I just wanted to see Lisa for a moment, before…" He swallowed hard. Theresa Weir nodded in understanding.
"Lieutenant Lindstrom is in the jumper bay," she said. "Make it short, please."
"Yes, ma'am," Aiden was already running up the stairs.
He found Lisa checking out the systems of Jumper Two – the little ship she usually preferred to fly. All pilots had their pet jumper; it seemed that each ship had its own personal quirks and that they were every bit as particular about who flew them as the pilots themselves. At least that was what the pilots said, although most people doubted it.
Lisa was honestly surprised to see Aiden there. "Haven't you got a few thousand Wraith to shoot at?" she asked.
"They'll be still there in five minutes, I'm afraid," Aiden replied. "Dr. Weir gave me those five minutes to say my good-byes."
"And you're not trying to talk me out of it?" Lisa asked.
Aiden shook his head. "Not anymore. I hate to let you go, but you were right: you are the best for the job. I just wish I could go instead."
"Don't," Lisa said seriously. "To know that you might survive because of what I'm gonna do will give me the strength to do it."
"Lisa…" Aiden was definitely uncomfortable; she'd never spoken of her feelings openly before. "This is not the time…"
"Nonsense," she interrupted. "This is the only time, Aiden. If I don't do this now, I'll never get another chance. I'm going to die in the next half an hour or so, don't you understand? I have to do this, right here, right now."
"Do what?" Aiden asked, more than a little bewildered.
"This," Lisa said, grabbing his lapels, yanking him close, and kissing him on the mouth, long and hard. Aiden was petrified with shock, unable to put up any resistance, and feeling this, Lisa went right in for the kill, her fingers sinking into his thick hair.
After a seemingly endless liplock, during which Sheppard discretely pretended to be very busy with checking his jumper (which was, of course, working at peak efficiency), she let go, her eyes surprisingly bright, and gently pushed Aiden away.
"Thanks," she murmured. "I really needed this."
"Lisa, I… I'm sorry," Aiden muttered. He might not eel the same way for her as she felt for him, but he did like her as a friend… and truly regretted not being able to give her what she yearned for.
"Don't be," she replied. "Just… go. You're needed – and so am I. Let's do what we have to do, before it's too far."
Aiden nodded and ran back down the stairs, still vaguely feeling like a stupid coward. Lisa glanced at Sheppard.
"Sorry, sir. That wasn't very professional of me."
Sheppard shrugged. "Hey, every convict sitting in death row has the right to a last meal. Speaking of which..." He switched on his radio. "Rodney, time's up!"
"Well, what a coincidence," came McKay's sarcastic answer. "We're done. You can send someone whose hands aren't shaking to transport 'em."
Sheppard gave the necessary orders, and soon enough, Marines from Lt. Miller's orphaned unit arrived to lade the bombs into the jumpers, followed by a highly agitated Dr. Zelenka.
"Slow, slow, slow, slow, slow," Zelenka warned; then, when the bombs were finally placed, he let out a sigh of relief. " That's it. Right here."
"Jumper bay, are you ready?" Vogel asked through the radio. "We're running out of time. The sensors are picking up the hive ships."
"How far are they?" Sheppard asked.
"Close enough to send out another wave," Dr. Weir said in Vogel's stead. "Major… John, I hate to send you on this particular mission, but… you have to go, now."
"I know, I know," Sheppard was already climbing into the jumper. "I'm leaving." He started the engines, and the jumper began to rise as the roof retracted. "Hopefully, if I take one out, the other one will back off."
"I wouldn't bet next month's salary on that, sir," Lisa said grimly.
"You should," came Sheppard's answer through her earpieces as the jumper cleared the bay, "or else you'll have to do this again."
"I'm prepared to do that, sir," Lisa replied.
Zelenka shook his head. "Pretty young ladies shouldn't be so eager to die," he said. Lisa gave the exhausted man a fond smile.
"Sometimes we have no other choice, Dr. Zelenka," she said. "It's all right, really. Just prep Jumper Two for me, would you?"
"Under protest," Zelenka replied tiredly, "and only because there's no other way."
In the control room, Theresa Weir, Kirkitadze and Major Vogel were gathering in front of the sensor control screen. The two Wraith ships were marked as small dots at the edge of the screen. Right above Atlantis, countless scattered dots symbolized the incoming Wraith darts, all on the kamikaze run.
"I've cleared the bay," came Sheppard's voice through the radio. "Switching to stealth mode. And Vogel… don't allow Lindstrom to start before you've confirmed that this actually works!"
"Of course, Major," Vogel chose not to be offended for being considered an idiot. He also refrained from wishing Sheppard good luck. That would have been a little morbid, under the circumstances.
"Major Vogel," Theresa said quietly, "please help me arm the self-destruct device, in case this fails. Rodney, keep monitoring the events. Carson, see to the evacuation of our wounded to the Alpha site. The rest of us will follow if… if it becomes inevitable."
Ralph Vogel wheeled over to the other console, and the two of them entered the codes required to set the self-destruct mechanism. The alarm klaxons began to howl all across the city.
"Self-destruct is armed," Theresa said. "John, Lisa, you have ten minutes to… deliver the package."
"Understood," Lisa answered. "I'll clear the city and remain on standby to see if it works. If it doesn't, I'll try to take out as many darts as possible, to buy you some time."
"Thank you," Theresa turned to Sergeant Lenoir. "Prepare to load the virus into the Ancient mainframe. Then give me city-wide."
Lenoir did as he'd been asked, then he nodded. "You can speak, Dr. Weir."
"Thank you," Theresa touched her headset. "This is Weir. I know you're all tired and desperate, and that we've demanded a lot from you in these past few days. Now we've come to our last stand. If it works out, we might win this battle, but we'll need to hold out just a little longer, to buy time for Major Sheppard and Lieutenant Lindstrom. If during the course of this battle our mission fails, I will give the order to evacuate. If that happens, don't hesitate, because you'll only have minutes. Good luck to us all."
She gestured to Lenoir to cut the connection and looked at Vogel. "Any news?"
"Lieutenant Lindstrom has just reported that the hive ships are approaching the planet," Vogel replied grimly; then he switched on his radio again. "Defence teams, to your positions. Sheppard, report!"
"They haven't detected my approach," Sheppard answered. "Weapon is armed and ready. I'm going in."
There was tense expectation in the Control room, underlined by the constant howling of the alarm klaxons and the rattling of the rail guns and multiple explosions from the outside. In stealth mode, the jumper didn't appear on the scanners, so that they couldn't have a clue what was going on – until the sky went brilliant white for a flash second. One of the dots symbolizing the Wraith hive ships began to blink, then turned for a moment into a stylised starburst… and then vanished.
"Target has been destroyed," Sergeant Lenoir said in a flat, emotionless voice.
Unlike the first time, there was no cheer in the Control room. Unlike the first time, they already knew what it had cost them to destroy the hive ship.
"Atlantis, this is Jumper Two," Annalisa Lindstrom reported in a moment later. "I have visual proof that Major Sheppard has succeeded. I'm moving in onto the second target."
"Understood, Lieutenant," Theresa replied, "and thank you – from us all."
"It's an honour, ma'am," Lisa answered. "You'll see it if… when I succeed. Lindstrom out."
She broke the connection and changed course, determined to reach the remaining hive ship before the countdown of the self-destruct device ran off. There was no time to waste.
She nearly got a heart attack, though, when the aft sensors of the jumper picked up a huge object, right behind her. It was a ship, without any doubt, but of a completely unknown configuration. Not even the Ancient technical database, that had been downloaded in each and every jumper, could make heads and tails of it.
She wished fervently that the jumpers had their own version of biometric sensors. Unfortunately, they had not, so she had no way to find out whether there were Wraith aboard that ship, or humans, or some other kind of beings that they hadn't met so far. She didn't dare to contact Atlantis again – that might have drawn the attention of the newcomer, and who knew, perhaps they had sensors advanced enough to locate her, despite the clock.
She decided to go with the original plan and blow the hell up the remaining hive ship. The newcomer providing a distraction might even prove helpful.
"Fare well, Aiden," she whispered and accelerated to full speed.
Down in Atlantis, the gun teams – and Marines with RPG launchers on their shoulders – were still trying to fight off the incoming Wraith darts. Everyone else, including Major Vogel and the majority of the engineers, had already been sent through the Gate. In the near-abandoned Control room, only Theresa, Kirkitadze and Zelenka were watching the screen, with Sergeant Lenoir keeping an eye on Gate operations.
They were waiting for the second explosion, but it wouldn't come. The countdown was at three minutes and ticking. On Zelenka's laptop, the words Virus loaded and ready flashed every ten seconds.
"Oh, no!" Zelenka suddenly said.
Theresa turned to him. "What happened?"
Zelenka gestured towards the screen. "We've picked up another ship. Here. See?"
The others stared at the screen in shock. "Wraith?" Theresa asked.
Zelenka shrugged apologetically. "I can't tell. Is smaller than hive ships but larger than Wraith cruiser. Much, much larger."
"What does the Ancient database say?" Kirkitadze asked.
Sergeant Lenoir looked it up; then shook his head. "No match, sir."
"Which means, it has to belong to a race that must have risen after the Ancients' departure," Kirkitadze said. "But that still doesn't tell us whether they're friendly or hostile. Should we try to hail them?"
Theresa hesitated for a moment. Before she could say anything, though, there was another blinding flash of white light in the outside, and the dot representing the remaining hive ship began to blink – then it was gone, too.
"Well," Kirkitadze sighed. "At least we know that Lieutenant Lindstrom has accomplished her mission. Shall we abort the self-destruct?"
"No," Theresa said. "There are still Wraith darts swarming around us. But let us stop it for the time being – until we find out who this new player is."
"Dr. Weir," Lenoir glanced up from his console. "We're being hailed. From that ship out there."
"Punch them through," Theresa ordered, and Lenoir threw the switch. A clear, carefully articulated male voice sounded through the loudspeaker, in a grammatically correct English that, however, curiously lacked any recognizable accent.
"This is Captain Dylan Hunt, commander of the High Guard ship Andromeda Ascendant," the voice said. "Atlantis, do you require any further assistance?"
At the same moment, Teyla came in running. "Dr. Weir," she cried, "the Wraith are in Atlantis!"
The others exchanged worried looks. This was highly unpleasant news, but when could they ever hope for things to end easily in the Pegasus galaxy?
"They must have beamed in from kamikaze ships," Zelenka said. "We've got fight on our hands on two fronts. So yes, I think we can use assistance from strange ship, now."
"We've heard you," the voice of the unknown starship captain said. "We'll take care of the smaller ships – and then come down and help you with the invaders. Hunt out."
Theresa looked at Lenoir with tentative hope. "Call back all able-bodied personnel from the Alpha site, Sergeant. Perhaps we'll be able to keep this city, after all."
And she bent down to the console and typed in her code to disengage the self-destruct.
TBC