FEAST OF THE SAMHAIN
The charade went on for months without incident, across countless worlds that blurred together. Sheppard had to give himself a mental pat on the back for the plan, as the various battles in the pit went well. No one came back to the cells afterward crippled or maimed beyond repair, nor did anyone die under Sheppard's watchful eye. In fact, the worst injuries sustained were little more than scrapes and bruising, barely classifiable as anything worse than a minor boo-boo.
The Garou, oddly, slowly warmed to him in turn. He began to glean small tidbits from them here and there. Mostly the Garou offered tips and tricks from their varied fighting skills and techniques, but, rarely, they offered fleeting glimpses to their lives and worlds. Ar'kahl and Tanik, for example, were welders, working in the same metal shop. They'd been scooped up by the Wraith when they knocked off for the night to head to the local bar. Cierros had been a sheep rancher – which was an endless source of amusement for Sheppard. They shared small tales here and there, between practicing with Sheppard for the pit; he told them passing stories of Atlantis, without outright saying her name. Sheppard could not honestly call them friends, but they were allies to say the least.
It went very well. They switched their fights and the resultant winners around, but kept the same general favorites in the pit as the winners. Each fight, they were rewarded with various small mammals for food, the type depending on the world. The blood, they carefully saved for Sheppard for the fights, for him to spit or spill at the right moment. Sheppard thanked his lucky stars each time that the offered meat had red, iron-rich blood. Anything else would arouse suspicion and forced the Garou to actually cut him to keep up with their little ruse.
All the while, Sheppard searched in vain for some way out of this mess, some means of escape for all of them including the Lady, yet found none. Every arena was a fortress and secured tightly. Sin'ai left no stone unturned when it came to locking up his prize fighters.
It went quite well for months until one little slip brought it all crashing down.
Cierros circled about for him in the pit and slashed through the air at Sheppard, exactly as planned and rehearsed. Sheppard tucked back, waiting for the paw to connect just enough to his cheek to look convincing. As it swept towards him, he spat the blood from his mouth as planned, but there was one small problem. Cierros had been too careful, too cautious not to injure with a blow that any Garou could handle but could possibly kill a human. Cierros missed by a mile.
Sheppard watched with wide eyes as the meaty paw cut through the air before him, and his heart sank. He had stared with fascination at televised wrestling for several years before a massively missed punch dashed Sheppard's childhood belief in a heartbeat. It was a small yet critical mistake. Sheppard staggered back, trying his best to look stunned from the punch. He knew he hardly had to try, considering how shocked he was from the complete miss.
The colonel glanced up to Turali Sin'ai and watched as the nobleman shook his head; the damage had been done.
He stumbled out of the arena to the catacombs below to wait with the other Garou for whatever punishment Turali Sin'ai might have for them.
xxxx
The Garou sat in wait for some time for Turali Sin'ai to come. When he did, the nobleman said nothing. Instead, he simply paced back and forth before the cell and his captives, glaring intently at the floor. The Wraith hung off to the side, waiting for any order from his master, yet Sin'ai gave none for some time.
When he spoke, it was curt and to the point. "How long?"
No one dared open their mouth; no one would dare add fuel to the fire raging in Sin'ai.
"HOW LONG?!" Sin'ai bellowed angrily.
The Garou and the lone human glared back but said nothing in return. What could they say to defend themselves? They had no rights, no lives in Sin'ai's eyes, nothing to them but what he demanded. Anything they might have said would have just damned them further than they already were.
Cierros hung his head in shame as Sin'ai paced before them, but Sheppard held his breath and grit his teeth. This had been his plan, his failure, not Cierros. His life had been nothing but a long string of failures woven together seamlessly from one to the next. Holland. The Wraith. Sumner. Ford. Carson – the original Carson, not the clone. One after the other, all leading up to this. He chastised himself mentally for being so stupid, so naïve to think a plan revolving around costumed wrestlers could possibly work.
"Well, you stupid beasts have cost me a very large sum of money, indeed." When Sin'ai looked to them again, his eyes held cold delight. "But, worry not. You'll earn it back."
Sin'ai left them, but Sheppard knew they were far from off the hook. The nobleman had something planned; Sin'ai always did. Turali Sin'ai was a businessman and entirely used to twisting losses to profits; he would make them pay for this misdeed and make a pretty penny on the side to boot. John shivered to himself and looked to the Garou. They knew, much as the human did. If they were to survive, there could be no more stalling, no more pretending. They had to escape, that night if possible.
xxxx
Lady Birkita waited until she felt safe enough to slip from her quarters, still clad in her silver dress and filigreed jewels. Turali Sin'ai might have been overly cautious with his fighters, but he had grown sloppy when it came to her keeping. He relied on her mental and emotional shackles to her kin and the innocent Lantean to keep the lady in check coupled with his personal security force. Yet the guards had grown too comfortable with their all too plush of occupations.
Her personal quarters were much the same as they had been before the arrival of the Lanteans. A lavish suite with luxurious appointments in gold and silk. It offered little in the means of a weapon, but Birkita, like the rest of her kind, was resourceful and strong, a weapon in her own right.
She stole the scarlet duvet from her bed, shredded the blanket to strips and bound her right hand in the fabric before approaching the windows. Turali Sin'ai had replaced all of her glass windows with a tough, durable material that felt like glass but ten times stronger. She had tried, in the past, to break it, to punch through, with limited luck, only succeeding in cracking the glass and hurting her hand. She had tried the furniture, but it was all bolted firmly down, allow for no other tool but her own strength.
Birkita focused herself, feeling her stomach knot and clench with the change. Not too far, though. She shifted herself just enough to put on a bit of extra muscle mass, to harden her bones slightly. The human body was a limited weak form, but the wolf inside was not nearly as dexterous with door handles and buttons as those pallid, worms of fingers. She needed the blend in between.
She punched the window; it did not give. Something in her hand twanged and stung from the blow, but the force did nothing. It did not even leave the faintest of marks upon the window. Birkita bit her lip and struck again. Her hand shrieked in pain, but the glass held firm. The albino sworn bitterly and spat; Turali Sin'ai had spared no expense in keeping his bargaining chip against the Garou.
In her frustration, her anger and her utter terror for Sin'ai's other captives, she hit the window again and again, pounding at it with everything she had until her knuckles split and the blood bled through the silk wrappings. Scarlet streaked the window.
Birkita slumped, shaking her head. It was hopeless to dream of escaping. She had been a fool, a damned fool. She drew a breath and steeled herself. The albino forced herself to stand, to fight. Sin'ai was an unforgiving bastard, and he would not be kind to his fighters for the financial losses of the night considering he had to refund every bet taken. She had to get them out.
She punched the glass again, and again, until finally, it gave a tiny crack. Just one. It spanned only an inch at most. Birkita licked her lips. Just one crack was all she needed to encourage her.
xxxx
Sheppard and the Garou tested every inch of their cell. They scraped at each and every brick for a loose one. They tugged and jerked on the bars, seeking anything that might give beneath their force. The colonel did not have the brute strength of the wolves, but he knew a thing or two about where to check. However, their search yielded nothing, not a single scrap of hope of escape.
That did not stop them from trying.
In his desperation, John snatched a bit of discarded bone from one of their prizes and began to scratch furiously at the base of one the bars. He dug and bore away in haste, rubbing and scrapping until sweat beaded at his forehead from the effort. At first, there was nothing, not even a scratch on the hard stone. Sheppard grit his teeth and worked at it harder, rubbing away bitterly like a prisoner with a file in one of those old movies in the black and white movies that someone kept putting in with the community dvd collection. Then, quite abruptly, the bone snapped, splintering with a down stroke and sending Sheppard crashing forward.
He banged his head into the bars and swore. In his impotent anger, the colonel cast the bone fragment aside, but it bounced off the wall to his side and skittered neatly back to him. Sheppard shook his head and nearly laughed.
The colonel could almost hear Rodney's voice mocking him smugly in the back of his mind. 'If it didn't work on Mythbusters, why would it work in the real world?'
John wanted to chuckle. It had worked on the show. However, it had taken several hours – possibly days through the art of creative editing - of diligently working at the bars with an actual file, as well as a variety of chemical and electrical concoctions. However, Sheppard did not have days or even hours, or any other tools, just his piece of bone.
He glanced to it to pick up the bone once more and continue chipping away as best as possible, but, then, he noticed something. The bone had snapped to a point. John tested the edge with his thumb and hissed when it actually pricked the flesh. Ar'kahl momentarily pricked his attention to the human at the sound, but the colonel popped his thumb into his mouth and shrugged it off.
Sheppard marveled at the bone for a moment before slipping it into his pocket and returning to laboring away at the base of the bars with the other half of bone.
xxxx
It took the better part of an hour for Birkita to punch a hole in the glass wide enough for her long, bloodied fingers to reach through. It took a further hour for the girl to pry a hole wide enough for her to wriggle her slender body through and onto the balcony outside. Her arms and fists ached from the effort, and her palms bled from the glass, or whatever it was that Sin'ai had used to maintain her gilded cage for so very long.
Birkita paused long enough to survey her mangled palms. They were scored with cuts and scrapes from the glass, and dotted with tiny shards that glittered in the moonlight. She gingerly plucked the larger pieces from the wounds before binding her palms with more scraps from the stolen bed linens. It hurt, enough to draw small, stifled hisses from the Garou as she worked, but Birkita held her tongue, careful to make as little noise as possible. The blood instantly soaked through, but there was nothing she could do for her injuries beyond what she had already done.
The balcony was large, and lined with decorative railing that bled into the detailing of Sinai vast citadel. She peered over the edge of the balcony and drew a sharp breath. Unlike the last fortress of Sin'ai's that she had escaped from, this balcony extended over a sheer drop to a vast darkness below – a cliff or trench, or possibly a murky water way too dark to spy from above. There was no way to be certain without potentially drawing unwanted attention to herself.
Birkita held her breath. The body of a Garou could take much more abuse than that of a human, but there were limits to the kinds of damage her kind could easily shake off. A fall from height like that could kill or cripple for life a Garou just as easily it would any human.
Birkita swung her leg over the marble rail and stepped out onto the ledge that circled the building. It was barely wide enough for to support the balls of her feet and her long toes. She pressed herself against the chilled, damp masonry of the citadel, clinging to the narrow grout lines between the stone blocks that composed the fortress. Those paltry grooves offered little to no hand hold, and her bloodied palms could barely grip the stone, slipping with each and every movement.
She shimmied along the ledge, too frightened to even lift her feet from the stone. Then, suddenly, her feet slipped out from beneath her. Birkita bit back a scream as she fell, hurtling through the air. She lashed out with her long arms, hoping to find purchase. Those blood slicked fingers of her found grip on a ledge below, just like the one she had previously occupied, just enough to stop her descent with a sudden rending sensation ripping through her arms. She grunted from the pain, clamping her eyes shut and gnashing her teeth.
Birkita hung there for a moment, her legs dangling out over nothing as she struggled to regroup. When the pain had subsided enough to think, to move, the albino desperately pulled up, trying to haul herself back up onto the ledge. Her arms throbbed and refused to allow her to pull herself high enough to mount the ledge once more, even if she could considering the frightfully narrow space.
A sound caught her attention, below her and to the side, the soft murmurings of speech inside a room. She looked down and spotted a balcony below with an open door. Silk curtains wafted in the breeze in languid motions, illuminated by a shaft of light that poured out, onto the balcony. Birkita felt her lips curl into what might be considered a smile granted the pain and the effort before inching herself along the ledge by her hands.
When she was close enough, Birkita held her breath and let go, dropping down to the balcony. She landed off, biting her lip so hard that it drew blood to keep from crying out as her ankle dished outward uncomfortably. Birkita pressed herself against the wall once more, hiding herself in the shadows from whoever lurked inside.
"Stupid beasts."
Birkita held her breath; Sin'ai. She listened as he stomped heavily across the room before a body – presumably his – plopped down onto some unseen piece of furniture with a muffled thump.
"Damned mutts," he fumed once more. "Had to refund all the bets and tickets to smooth this mess over." He gave an exaggerated huff. "I'll never be able to show my face here again."
"You should have anticipated that they would eventually sour to the pit," a voice attempted to croon but produced only a thick, vile hiss; the Wraith. "The dogs fancy themselves too clever for your sport."
Sin'ai sighed bitterly. "I had. I just didn't think they would go so quickly, or all at once."
The Wraith made a sound, something not unlike a laugh but impossibly nothing like it at all. "You underestimated the Lantean."
"Don't remind me," the nobleman groused.
Sin'ai rose and began to pace once more, his footsteps clipped and even. He drew close, too close to the balcony for Birkita's comfort. Yet, knowing the Wraith to be there, the albino could do nothing save freeze, holding each and every muscle perfectly in place, keeping her breaths as soft as possible. Turali paused before the doorway, possibly even looking right out.
"My reputation is ruined."
The Wraith crooned slickly. "Not necessarily." He paused, as though considering, but Birkita knows as well as Sin'ai that every small syllable to cross his thin lips was a calculated measure. "This lot is all that sullies your name."
"And?"
"Remove that which sullies them," the Wraith offered simply, too easily that it sounded rehearsed.
Birkita blinked in the darkness, but, on further inspection, it should not have surprised her so. The Wraith loathed Sheppard, perhaps more so than any of the other prisoners. She had known since their first failed escape attempt together, when the Wraith could have slaughtered them all with appallingly laughable effort. Instead, he had been distracted and uncoordinated. The Wraith had allowed himself to be blinded by his desire for Sheppard's suffering, and it had only been by that grace that any of them had escaped. Every move, every word, and every subtle gesture since then had been nothing but a complex choreography to push Sheppard to this moment, and Birkita had been too blind, too stupid to notice.
Turali Sin'ai said nothing for a moment before breathing, "Sheppard."
"Naturally. And a few of the dogs as well, to underscore the point and to remove any potential further instigators." The Wraith moved, the placement of his voice shifting despite a lack of sound from his feet. "Put them down."
"No."
Birkita bit her lip so hard that she drew blood; her lungs ached from trying so desperately to control her breaths.
"No," Sin'ai repeated, more firmly. "We're already taking a significant loss. I've had offers for Sheppard. More than enough to cover the expense of collecting a new batch of recruits…"
The conversation was cut off as Sin'ai and the Wraith stepped from the chamber, closing the door behind them. Birkita could relax and breathe once more, but not for long. She forced herself to move, to creep like a spider across the terrace and over the edge. The albino mouthed a silent, wordless prayer to the Moon and climbed out, into the safety of the darkness around her.
xxxx
"They'll be coming soon."
Sheppard started at the voice, the cold, dark rumble of Ar'kahl's deep tones. He had been working so furiously at the bottom of the bar without any progress for so long that Sheppard had completely lost sense of time. He had not even noticed the hulking Garou approaching, nor standing over him.
Sheppard closed his eyes slowly, nodding and considering, "Yeah. I guess so."
"Any last minute brilliant ideas?"
"Yeah." He gestured for the Garou, all the Garou to come to him. As they did, Sheppard scrawled with his bit of bone the address to the Alpha site, an address he had already drilled into Birkita's memory over the long, dull months. "Remember this. The Gate – Ring of the Ancestors or whatever you call it – needs addresses of symbols in specific order. Put these in, and it will take you to a safe world where you can hide out until help comes."
Sheppard tried not to think about the consequences of bringing Garou back with him to Atlantis in such large numbers. Atlantis could handle its self if and when the time came, while the colonel had to focus on the moment.
"And then?" One of the other Garou asked in a gruff voice.
Sheppard sighed. "And then, with a little luck, they'll be able to trace the dial to this world." He looked to the Garou, certain now. "We're getting out of here. All of us."
Ar'kahl nodded appreciatively, but a sound drew his attention before he could respond. It caught all of the Garou. It was too soft or perhaps simply too distant for any human ears to capture, but the Garou each heard, cocking their heads slightly to the sound. It sent a shiver down Sheppard's spine to know there was something there without actually hearing it himself. To his very great surprise, Ar'kahl pressed a hand to the human, shoving him back and away from the bars.
"You're no match for the Wraith."
"Neither are you," the colonel countered smartly.
Sheppard pressed the sharpened bone into Ar'kahl's broad palm. The Garou considered the thing briefly, testing the tip. Then, he chortled, shook his head and returned it to the human.
Ar'kahl chuckled darkly. "Keep it." He grew out long, dirty talons and smirked. "I've got better."
It was not the Wraith that approached; the footsteps were too heavy, too graceless for a predator such as the Wraith. Sheppard opened his mouth to warn the Garou, but Ar'kahl moved swifter than lightning. He reached out from beyond the bars as the guard unwittingly stepped too close, unprepared for such defiance from the Garou. Efficiently, Ar'kahl snapped the guard's neck and allowed the limp body to slip from his hold.
Sheppard frowned. The guard had a young face and was clearly inexperienced. No well trained guard would approach a cell of prisoners too closely. Or, perhaps, he had just grown too accustomed to the Garou's submission, taking their obedience absolutely for granted.
That did not stop the colonel from reaching between the bars amid other long, groping hands. They quickly turned the body over and searched the corpse for any keys or tools. Unfortunately, the guard had been armed with only a simple, metal baton. The Garou gave that to Sheppard. Ar'kahl nudged the body between the bars and curled his lips.
The Garou shook his head. "Well, there goes the element of surprise."
Sheppard shrugged half heartedly. "It is what it is."
A soft scuffling of footsteps upon the stone corridor caught their attention and sent the Garou starting in surprise. Sheppard groaned inwardly; he had been hoping for some small respite before the guards came once more. However, he stood with the Garou, the baton in one hand and the bone shard in the other, ready for whatever might be coming their way.
To his shock, it was neither the guards nor the Wraith. It was Birkita who burst into the dungeon. She looked pale and sweaty, exhausted, it seemed. The lady took in the body with limited interest before looking to the prisoners. She stared with wide eyes at the captives, her eyes scanning the many faces of the Garou. Sheppard took a single step towards her, and those frigid eyes warmed with recognition as her lips curved to a faint smile. She rushed to the bars, threw her arms between them to meet him in a desperate embrace. Birkita clung to him oddly, and, to the colonel's shock, the albino trembled.
"Birkita… what is it?" he asked, suddenly afraid.
Her voice came as a whisper, her words meant only for his ears. "I thought you were gone already."
"I don't leave people behind." It spilled forth as a promise, a pact to the wolf. "I wouldn't have left you."
"No. You don't understand." She parted from him, shaking her head. "Sin'ai intends to sell you." The lady turned her gaze upon the wolves, her own kind. "And probably kill the rest of you."
Sheppard leveled a stern gaze upon her. "When?"
She gave another shake of her head. "I don't know. He didn't say."
He nodded, focusing now. "Birkita, are there any keys out there?"
"No." The girl glanced behind her frantically, looking to the hall over her shoulder. "There is nothing. Sin'ai and his security keep them."
"Any kind of tools? Anything we can use to break out of here?"
"I told you there isn't anything," the girl blurted out, frantically now. She cocked her head to the side. "Someone's coming."
"Go."
Birkita blinked at the word. She gave pause, the confusion clearly written upon her features. Then, she shook her head once more, unable to voice her refusal.
Sheppard gave a firm nod. "Go."
"Sin'ai will kill you."
The colonel reached between the bars, snatching Birkita by the chin. He held her tight, but not so tight as to bruise. He maintained just enough of a hold to force her to meet his unyielding gaze.
"Birkita, if you do not go, we all die. You know the Alpha site address." He had frequently drilled the Garou during their time together on the address; he did not need her confirmation. "Go there. Contact Atlantis. They'll find us. I promise." When she gave no response, John begged her, pleaded with her. "Please. Please, Birkita."
The sound drew closer, close enough that Sheppard easily heard the many feet that plodded through the stone halls of Sin'ai's vast keep. Birkita froze in his grip. Sheppard mouthed the word 'go,' once more. He could see the worry in her, the fear for him, but Sheppard also saw the youth in her, the innocence. He wordlessly repeated the order to her, and, then, she bolted. Sheppard closed his eyes and stepped back, letting out a breath he had not realized he had been holding.
Cierros put a meaty paw on Sheppard's shoulder and breathed admiringly, "At least one of us will live."
The colonel smirked and flashed his bone stiletto. "Why? You plan on rolling over and showing Sin'ai's goons your tummy?"
A few of the Garou, Ar'kahl included, laughed faintly at the jest, but it was short lived. The march of several guards echoed deafeningly in their ears, drowning out any further sounds from the Garou. Sheppard stood his ground though, his muscles tensing and flexing amid the wolves as some took half-skins with wild howls. Birkita would get out, and that was enough of a win situation for Sheppard.
Sheppard tucked the bone knife into his pocket and gestured with a wide, calming hand for the Garou to stand down as the security squad came down the hall. To his surprise, the wolves actually listened. They shifted back to human skin for their partial pelt, slinking back to the darkness of the cell.
The man at the head of the squad looked to the corpse, scowled, and ordered one of the others, "Remove this."
The head guard took a key from his uniform and gesturing for the guards to cull out the wolves as they had after their failed revolution so very long ago. They were heavily armed and outnumbered their prisoners easily. Sheppard grit his teeth, waiting for his moment as the commander slipped the key into the lock.
Before he could turn it, a white blur struck him down. Birkita! She tore at him with her pearled fangs in all her ivory half-pelt, her silver dress flowing with her. The guard fell to her, tackled to the ground beneath a furious maw of slashing and snapping teeth. He shrieked once before her teeth found his throat and crunched through it. The shrill scream quickly tapered to a stomach churning gurgling noise as blood bubbled up through the massive wound.
The guards were taken by surprise by the attack, stepping back. It took them a moment to regroup and gain some semblance of understanding of what had just happened. Birkita lifted her head and made a hooting bark, mocking them, and, then, realization settled over them.
"Get her!" one of the guards ordered harshly.
Sin'ai's security force opened fire, but Birkita moved too quickly. She sprang from the corpse of their fallen commander and fled the scene. Her hind end waggled as she did, inviting them to give chase. The guards, foolish and impulsive, did, but only for a few feet before remembering the captives in the cell. Before any of them could recall the key, Sheppard flung himself at the cell door. He curled his hand about the key, wrenched it sharply and flung the door open.
The Garou spilled outwards, a tidal wave of primal fury. They pounced upon the guards as easily as a cat might catch a mouse. Sheppard moved with them, swinging the baton with a ferocity that he would not have ever imagined in himself. He growled as the Garou did, baring his teeth in wild abandon as the baton cracked the skull of at least one guard. The fray lasted no more than a few minutes, but, by the end of it, several Garou and humans alike had been felled until their bodies littered the hall and only the Garou remained.
Sheppard glanced to the end of the hall, to Birkita in her human skin. Scarlet stained her pale face and delicately structured cheeks where it had splattered her. Long streaks of red from the commander's brief struggles marred the Garou's silver locks. She looked to him, lifting those frozen eyes of her and fixing her icing gaze upon Sheppard imploringly. He shivered to himself; he had forgotten the beast that slumbered in the heart of all Garou – perhaps in all men and women.
She stepped daintily between the fallen corpses and touched Sheppard's hand ever so softly, bringing his focus back.
It was time to go.
They ran, all of them. Ar'kahl led the pack, along with the strongest of them. Birkita practically loped at Sheppard's side. They cut through the maze of corridors and halls, Ar'kahl occasionally lifting his nose to catch at some scent before turning a different corner. Sheppard followed; he had no other choice.
They burst forth from the stone catacombs into the arena, and crossed the sand once more, together, reaching the side of the expanse as one. Sheppard crossed his fingers that the force field which had held them during the matches did not run. He did not even want to consider what they would do if it was functioning. Sheppard let one of the Garou give him a leg up before scaling the wall wreathing the arena and tumbled out into the stands, grinning madly as he did. The Garou scrambled up the wall around him. Sheppard marveled midway up the wall as one of the wolves reached down to give him a hand up, surprised at how very much their situation had changed over their time in captivity. From enemies, to allies.
At the top, Sheppard's heart gave an uncomfortable lurch in his chest, suddenly worried about the force field he had seen up close and personal during so many matches in Sin'ai's various pits. While the Garou helped one another up around him, Sheppard reached out a hesitant hand. However, his hand thankfully met no electric shock, repulsion, or any force of resistance.
They bolted through the night, racing up the stands and to the exits where twittering fans had clamored for the sight of them. Tunnels pierced the sides of the stands, not unlike ballparks or stadiums on Earth. The Garou listened at the end of one before deciding to dart down it and through Sin'ai's grand arena. To Sheppard's very great horror, they streaked past what seemed abandoned concession and betting stands. It sickened him still to think of people munching on hotdogs and pretzels while placing bets on human suffering.
It seemed too easy until the colonel realized he had forgotten two key issues with a swear. The Garou halted simply, stopping on a dime on the pads of feet meant to chase down the most nimble of prey. They stared in silent irritation, but John paid them no heed. He had been so foolish, so utterly stupid. They had rushed out, into the night, with no plan, no escape route, no idea where the gate was…. and worse. Birkita snatched John by the crook of his arm and dragged him back into a shadowed corner while the rest of the Garou followed suite, ducking into the darkness with them.
"What's wrong?" Cierros hissed through his teeth.
Sheppard shook his head, bitter at the thought of his own error. "The Wraith." He blinked angrily. "We forgot about the Wraith."
"It doesn't matter now," one of the others argued with a harsh snap.
Sheppard growled through clenched teeth. "He's been to Earth. He has Earth's coordinates." He balled his fists and shook with rage, struggling to compose himself. "We've got to go back."
"Are you kidding me?" Tanik barked, his voice low and dark. "We cannot go back."
Birkita shushed any arguments with a quick flick of her hand. "He's right. Sin'ai's just going to send the Wraith right back to Earth for a fresh crop of fighters. We've got to go back."
"My lady!"
"No," the female snapped sharply. "He's only got the one ship. If we stop Sin'ai here, if we destroy that ship, we stop him from taking any more of our kind." She looked to Sheppard, to the slow, appreciative nod of the colonel. "It is our duty."
"I'll go," the colonel volunteered immediately.
"I'll go, too," Birkita pressed, moving to his side.
Ar'kahl stepped in her path, blocking her. "No. I'll go." She opened her mouth to balk, but Ar'kahl silenced her with a fierce glare. "You are more important than us. If we fail, and Sin'ai gets a hold of more of our kind, you're just a pawn again."
John nodded once more reassuringly at her. "He's right, Birkita. Go. Find the gate." As an after thought, he added, "We'll catch up at the Alpha site."
Birkita bit her pale lip, obviously intending to argue further. However, there was nothing to say to convince Sheppard or Ar'kahl otherwise. She knew it, as much as the two men volunteering. She bowed her head to them, the only response the girl could offer when faced with such an offer. She did not trust herself otherwise to answer.
When the albino made no indication of leaving, John squeezed her arm and stated firmly once more, "Go."
He and Ar'kahl watched as the albino and the Garou slunk towards the exits. They waited in the shadows until the other escapees had vanished about a corner. They allowed just another few more moments to pass, hopefully giving the others enough time to put distance between them before returning their attention to the stone keep they had just fled.
Finally, Ar'kahl spoke. "Brave thing you're doing." Sheppard shrugged, but the wolf went on. "You don't owe us anything, you know that, right? I could go smash up his little ship. You don't have to do this."
"Yes, I do," John ground out between clenched teeth.
Ar'kahl sighed heavily. "Y'know, we probably aren't going to get out of this alive?"
"Nope. Not likely," John answered honestly, shaking his head. "But let's do this before you make me change my mind."
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