Author's Note: Phew, you all have no idea how lucky you are to be getting this chapter tonight. God the internet at home sucks. Like, really, really bad! Like slow and fat and really, really annoying. I'm dreading summer when I don't have uni halls internet...

Anyways, here's the next chapter, hope you likies!

Chapter 21: Trio

Looking around the conference room that afternoon, Sheppard settled back into his chair, basking in that sense of completion he felt when he studied the gathered leaders. Fairfield and Goldman sat at the head of the semi-circle, both relaxed and looking hopeful. John sat to their right, in his own world, coming to accept the fact that he no longer belonged to these people – these people being the remaining humans of the universe.

Across from him sat Chayal and Damora, comfortable in their own friendship, and coming to trust the Olympians. Sheppard had been a little surprised to learn that the two peoples, the ones he knew as Athosian and Genii, were now firm allies, and had been for some several thousand years. And that the foundations for that friendship had been laid late in the Earth settlement of Atlantis when Michael had held Pegasus in a cold, hard grip.

Chayal didn't even seem that upset that Damora had hidden cloaking technology from her.

"We had a basic plan before you showed up," Goldman began, needing to get Damora up to speed. "And your arrival will only aid it. In fact, I'm almost sure we can win the entire battle now, without help from our own ships."

"What is the plan?" Damora asked, glancing once at Chayal. "And how can we help? Whatever my people can do, to protect Atlantis, will be done."

That was a different sentiment than what John was used to, but he didn't say anything. Let sleeping dogs lie, as the saying went.

Goldman nodded, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table. "We appreciate it, Commander Damora," he began, looking to Fairfield for conformation before continuing. "And now, with your cloaking technology, the plan can only be improved."

Sheppard wondered if he had taken a look at the long range sensors lately. Because while a dozen ships were great, and it took their total to eighteen, there were still fifty Wraith Hive ships coming their way. Complete, no doubt, with their own cruisers, and Darts and sneaky little hybrids equipped to fly them.

In fact, the more Sheppard thought about it – and he had been doing that a lot lately – the more he was beginning to think that this was impossible. No, beyond impossible.

But he didn't mention that either.

Unaware of Sheppard's thoughts, Goldman ploughed on. "Originally Chayal's ships were going to hide behind the closest moon until half of Michael's fleet had dropped out of hyperspace. Our own ship, the Helios, which Sheppard so thoughtfully delivered to us, would be waiting in orbit around this planet, to face Michael's fleet. Chayal's ships would attack from behind. We would take out as many as we were able to take out, and then retreat back to Atlantis to wait for our own ships which are on route from our own galaxy."

"A surprise attack as Michael drops out of hyperspace. Very clever," Damora acknowledged. A flicker in Sheppard's direction showed he thought it was the pilot's plan. Sheppard noticed, and wondered for a moment if these people had actually glorified him in his long absence. "And I'm assuming our ships will be with Chayal's?"

Fairfield shook his head. "No need. Not with your cloaking technology. If you're cloaked until they come out of hyperspace, and lined up with the Helios, you should be able to attack front on with us. It will give the Helios a much higher chance of limited damage."

"And when we have sustained damage?" Damora asked, looking once at Chayal. She already knew the plan, minus the quick revisions due to the Genii arrival.

"We retreat back to Atlantis," Sheppard told him, entering the conversation for the first time. "As soon as you can fight no more, as soon as shields are failing, whatever… get back in this city where the shields can protect you. We wait for as long as the shield's will hold, for the Olympian ships. And hope that we decimate Michael's forces enough for them to wipe the Pegasus fleet clean from space."

"And if they can't?" Damora questioned. "Or the shield's fail before the Olympian ships arrive? What do you plan on doing then?"

"Gate somewhere else," Sheppard told him, knowing the question was for him. Damora was asking what he planned on doing. He didn't care about the Olympians, just the mythical hero Sheppard. God, he had been put on a pedestal, by the Genii of all people. At least Chayal had managed to hide it. "Somewhere within Pegasus, and continue the fight. Of course, the ships might have to try and blast their way through Michael, if it comes to that, but if I'm in the chair, taking shots at them with the drones, you should be okay."

Damora frowned. "Why not just destroy this fleet with your drones? I saw the power of them earlier. They are a great weapon. Surely that would be enough."

Sheppard chuckled. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? But it takes a lot of drones to take down a Hive ship. And, even having restocked them, we only have a limited supply. Not enough to take down fifty Hive ships. I might be able to take out a few, if they remain close enough, which is another consideration. But I doubt I'd be able to destroy them all."

Damora nodded, and then seemed to be out of questions, leaning back and smiling reassuringly at Chayal. Fairfield looked around the table, and then nodded. "Well, if there are no more questions… We have a lot of work to do and only a few days to do it in. Let's get down to business."

Getting ready for a siege turned out to be harder than Sheppard had thought it would be.

The problem was, they didn't know how long they would be trapped here. And they didn't know what they would have at their disposal. Wraith tactics included dialling into the gate address to stop people from escaping via the portal. However, they weren't sure if Michael had Atlantis' Stargate address.

They had to assume he did. And, working under that assumption, they faced several problems. Such as food, space and power. Or lack thereof.

The space issue became apparent when Damora's cruisers began to land. Assuming all his ships survived the initial encounter with Michael, that meant that twelve Wraith cruisers, five Natoshian ships and one Helios had to share the limited pier and sand space that Atlantis had to offer. Assuming they all survived the battle.

It took some careful planning, sharing of specific details such as ship size and some masterful piloting by the Genii to get every one of their cruisers on the ground to be checked over and made ready for battle and still leave space enough for the Natoshian ships, who had demanded they be allowed to land to do some work. John didn't even want to know how that would go when they were trying for a fast landing, when their systems were failing and people were dying.

The other key issue, that of food, was far simpler to address. After some careful negotiating by Sheppard, both Chayal and Damora agreed to share the addresses to several of their safe planets to harvest enough food to last them a long time. With rationing it would last even longer. Assuming Michael did dial in to Atlantis, they wouldn't get many chances to dial out and go searching for supplies. They would have even less chances to dial back in and return safely. If Fairfield's people didn't turn up, they couldn't stay in the city indefinitely.

Which brought Sheppard's mind to the third issue. Power.

As one of his many tasks – as the only one with the ATA gene and extensive knowledge of Atlantis' systems – he helped some of the scientists do diagnostics on the ZPMs and power consumption. And Sheppard was a little worried to find the city was eating up power at a far faster rate than she had in his time. He had told them that age really was taking a toll on her, and here, finally, was proof of what he had been saying.

There was little he could do about that except warn Fairfield. However, when Chayal's people arrived the morning after the Genii had, they had close to a thousand men and women occupying the city. Each Genii cruiser had housed around sixty people, while the Natoshian vessels carried a little under fifty, each member needed to ensure the various ships ran as needed. And no matter how many times he did the math, Sheppard knew it was too many people. Even with many of the Pegasus natives remaining in quarters aboard their ships.

And once the hybrids began firing at the shields, when they had retreated to the safety of the city… there wouldn't be long enough. Sheppard was sure of it.

He sighed and leaned over the railing, trying to ignore the sand and instead imagining crashing waves.

It had been two days since the Genii had arrived. Two days of hectic preparations, of time spent divided between working with Kate on the Helios, helping other scientists with various other systems in the city, and acting as mediator far too often between the three peoples currently vying for respect in the city. Now there was a job he had never thought he would need to do.

Not that Fairfield, Chayal and Damora were nasty to each other or anything. But issues seemed to constantly come up. Such as when Fairfield had begun talking to them about gathering enough supplies for a long siege from their respective planets. The natives had been none too pleased at the prospect of giving up food and water sources to a race they didn't know.

But that had died down in the past afternoon, and now that time was short, they seemed to be working together well. In comparison at least. Those fifty little dots inching closer to their sphere on the long range scanners worked well as a social cohesive.

He heard the door open to the balcony outside the control room and pulled himself out of his troubled thoughts in time to turn to see Goldman approaching, arm still in his sling.

"Thought I'd find you out here," the Olympian said as he came to lean over the rail. He looked up at the poisonous sky and shivered. Sheppard knew he wasn't seeing the sky, but rather the still invisible armada headed their way through hyperspace. "It's nearly here."

Sheppard had seen the scanners as well. He nodded. "Yeah I know. They'll be here in an hour or two."

He didn't add anything, just looked over the city, trying to etch every detail into his mind. It had become a sort of ritual for him, in the face of impending doom. He would come out here, or to some other balcony, somewhere, overlooking the city, and try desperately to imprint every little detail into his memory. He had always found it amusing of a sorts that he had always found something new to remember every time he performed this same ritual of looking over his city.

But try as he might today, he just couldn't see anything he had never seen before.

He sighed, and dropped his head, feeling a terrible sadness well up from within. Atlantis wasn't meant to feel like this. But the city had been alone for too long, and had been in a state of warfare more often than not when she was occupied. It was enough to wear anyone down. Even a city.

Goldman suddenly shifted, and grew uncomfortable. "Do you…" He paused, licking his lips, and Sheppard looked up at him, curious. None of the Olympians he had spoken to had a problem with speaking their minds or emotions, and Goldman had never been any different. So what had him so uncomfortable now?

"Spit it out," Sheppard ordered, needing to know.

Goldman looked at him. "Do you think we'll survive this?" he asked, rushing it out so the words almost sounded jumbled and incoherent. But Sheppard heard. He heard it all.

He turned away and sighed. "Honestly?" he asked. "I don't know. I really don't." He stood up straight, wondering why Goldman had come to him to ask. "But I'll tell you this," he added as he turned away and clasped the man's shoulder reassuringly. "If we don't we'll go down with one hell of a swing."

He retreated to the control room, joining the three leaders by the scanner as he left Goldman on the balcony, and took a deep breath as he saw how close Michael was. Oh God, he really was close.

"I think it's time to set up," Fairfield muttered, and the rest of them nodded in agreement, Sheppard crossing his arms to reinforce his conviction.

"We will go to our ships," Chayal informed them, nodding at Damora. "And may the Ancestors guide us," she included, before turning away and grabbing at her radio to begin giving orders. Damora wasn't far behind.

Sheppard turned, knowing his own part in this. Or thinking he did. He was supposed to go to the Helios and get in the weapon's chair to do what he could with his ATA gene. But apparently someone else had other ideas.

"Sheppard, wait," Fairfield called out, and the pilot turned back, catching the man nod once at Chayal and Damora. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What?" he demanded slowly, looking between the three leaders himself, even as the two natives left to get to their respective ships. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

Fairfield shrugged his head. "From what I've learned of you since meeting you… no." He paused and then stepped forward. "Chayal and Damora and I had a talk, while you were out. And we all agree… you're in charge up there."

Sheppard blinked. "Excuse me?" he asked, sure he hadn't heard right. No, he couldn't be. Could he?

Fairfield nodded. "This fleet, this allied attack, needs to be under the command of a single leader. As you've probably figured already," he said wryly. "None of us are going to let the other have that much control. There's still too much mistrust."

"So you picked me?" he demanded. "I'm not qualified to do this. Besides, I'm in the chair, remember, the one that controls the shiny weapons that are going to do the most damage."

Fairfield scowled. "You can do both, just like you did when the Genii showed up unannounced. And yes, you are qualified. You're a military leader, a smart man, and you know the enemy. Look, you won't even have to do that much. Just tell Chayal when to come out and tell Damora when to uncloak. And, if the need arises, tell everyone to fall back. And you can do all that from the chair."

Sheppard groaned and rubbed his eyes, realizing they didn't have the time to argue about this. "Fine. Okay. Fine. I'll take command. I just hope you know what you're doing."

Fairfield grinned. "Trust me. We do. We wouldn't have it any other way. And you're the most qualified to lead this attack on Michael. Now, guess you better get to your ship."

His ship. Right. He shook his head once more, just so the man knew he was doing this only with a degree of objection, and turned to go find the Helios. Which wasn't hard considering the ship was several stories tall.

He didn't go immediately to the Helios' chair room, but stopped by the bridge first, to see who was there. He wasn't surprised when Goldman walked in after him a few seconds later.

Nodding at the man, Sheppard didn't bother speaking. Instead he took a deep breath and walked to the front window, glancing askance at the captain's chair only once. He paused by the window, and there, waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

Within minutes of near total silence on the Helios' bridge – men staring at him with various mixes of reassurance and hope – Sheppard saw what he was looking for. And the sight took his breath away.

The Helios sat on the east side of the city, while both Chayal and Damora had landed elsewhere, centred on the western piers. And in the silence of the Ancient ship, Sheppard could hear their engines firing up.

The noise rose like a growl above the city, a low humming mixed with the blast of engines that sounded like music to the pilot's ears. The sound rose, getting louder as more and more ships, the result of one of the greatest alliances in Pegasus' more recent history. Unable to help himself, a slow grin spread across Sheppard's face.

And then the first ship hovered into sight. It was one of the Wraith-turned-Genii cruisers, and Sheppard watched it with a newly found appreciation for Wraith technology. It paused in the air, waiting for its comrades before it would take off.

A second later one of Chayal's ships rose to join the cruiser, and Sheppard was taken aback once more by the startling similarities the ship had to the Daedalus. What he wouldn't give for that ship now, and her crew with all their experience in space battles.

And then more and more ships rose to join their friends and allies, and Sheppard felt nostalgia leave him, replaced by awe as he saw great advancements in human history in the Pegasus Galaxy hover before his very eyes. He realized just how far they had come, and how much further they should have been. Could have been. Because this was…

Amazing.

Within minutes the entire Pegasus contingent was in the air, seventeen space ships of varying sizes and potency but all undoubtedly sharing an equal determination to do what they could and much, much more.

Watching them disappear into the atmosphere, Sheppard finally turned away from the window and nodded at the Olympian technicians dotted around the bridge, and at Goldman.

"Fire up the engines," he ordered, grinning. "Let's get this boat in the air."

At his words, the engines came online quickly, purring and ready, impatient almost. And as the Helios rose up from Atlantis' pier and pierced the shield keeping the city safe, John finally sat back in the captain's chair, using the controls there to tap into the radio both Chayal and Damora had agreed to use, seeing as Fairfield had been the only one with enough to go around.

"This is Sheppard," he called out, looking ahead as the air darkened and the expanse of space, comforting in its own way, met his eyes. "Chayal, Commander Damora, can you hear me?"

"I can, Sheppard," Damora answered brusquely, but Sheppard took no offence to the tone. He had quickly come to realize that it was the man's natural way of speaking.

"I can also," Chayal informed him a moment later, her voice crackling with the effect of the moon in between them. "Though it is not easy."

Sheppard nodded though neither of them could see him. "I didn't expect it to be, Chayal." He checked sensors to his right. "Michael's barely ten minutes from dropping out of hyperspace. I want you to maintain radio silence in that time. We don't want him knowing you're here before time."

"Agreed," Damora told him, before falling into said agreement. Chayal did the same a second later, and Sheppard took a deep breath as he cut off contact momentarily. Then he looked up to Goldman.

"Bridge is yours," he told the man. "Shoot with the secondary weapons systems on my order. I think you've got the rest. I'll be in the chair room."

He took off before Goldman had even begun nodding, fiddling with his radio as he ran to the chair. If he was in command, he couldn't be out of contact, not even for a moment. Then again, the chair should help with that.

With a relieved sigh – and liking the familiarity – he slid into the chair and activated it, feeling the weapons control slip easily into his mind. He accessed various other systems – something he had been practising – and tapped into them so he not only had an ear in communications but he could almost see the battlefield in his mind courtesy of the Helios' sensors.

And he waited.

With bated breath, he waited in the chair, poised to attack the moment he saw a Wraith Hive ship in the vicinity. The silence seemed to press in all around him, the radio in his ear quiet as everyone else waited with a stillness that belied the rapid beatings of their hearts.

Because they knew the fate of two galaxies potentially rested on this battle and its outcome. And no one wanted to lose.

And then the moment of waiting passed. Sheppard's radio burst into life, and Fairfield's resigned, worried, anxious voice came over the line.

"The Stargate has been activated," he told Sheppard quickly. "We've raised the shield, but nothing seems to be coming through. Looks like you were right."

Sheppard shifted on the chair but didn't answer. Because a sensor had just gone off in his head, and he knew.

"Heads up, everyone," he called over the radio, knowing it reached Fairfield, Damora and Chayal. "Michael is here."

As if his words were cues, the space he could see in his mind opened up, a flash of bright green smoke-like vapour that faded away, as if blown away by the wind, ripped across the black of space.

A pit grew in Sheppard's stomach, even the battle-hardened colonel having trouble dealing with the sight that met his eyes as ship after ship after ship came through, exiting so close to each other that the darkness of space made way for the sheer intensity of hyperspace windows.

And ship after ship after ship continued to come through, appearing like heralds for the armies of hell.

Ship after ship after ship…

Eesh...