Author's Note: Thanks again to everyone who' reviewed. Those who told me what they think will happen... I'm not going to say if you're right or wrong, but thanks anyway! And I hope you like the bits you are wrong in despite that fact!
Here's the next chapter...
Chapter 25: Epiphany
Via the chair Sheppard knew when the shield's adjustments took over, knew when Michael's combined firepower struck the very centre of the hemisphere protecting the city. He didn't even need the violent shudder to tell him that their… his plan hadn't destroyed them all.
But had possibly destroyed the lives of nearly three hundred and fifty men and women who had only been out there in those ships under his orders.
Swallowing, and ignoring Chayal's and Damora's threats, he contacted the ships now cut off from Atlantis. He knew he couldn't waste time.
"This is Colonel Sheppard. There is a planet maybe ten hours from here at maximum sub-light for your ships. Get there if you don't have your hyperdrives," he looked down and then used the chair to send them the coordinates. "Michael will stay here. He'll only send a ship or two after you, which you should be able to manage. Repair what needs to be repaired and then rendezvous at the coordinates I'm sending you now." He sent them the coordinates to a planet he hoped Michael didn't have control of. "We'll contact you there in twenty-four hours. Atlantis out."
He sat up and got out of the chair, feeling tired and heavy. Taking his S-20 wearily back from Benji, he contacted Kate. "Tell me what's happening."
She sounded shaken. "The shield modifications worked. No more darts are getting through. And gunners have just taken down the last one within our shields. Our ships managed to destroy another seven of Michael's Hives. We lost two, one Genii, one Natoshian. The rest are retreating to that planet. Michael's letting them."
Sheppard sighed and let Chayal's brother take point, feeling distracted and distant. Plus, he didn't really need Kate's next little snippet of information. "Power consumption is still rising," she told him. "I think the new components use more."
It figured. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Sheppard thanked her and turned to the next thing he had to do. "Fairfield, Chayal, Damora. Meet me back in the control room. The rest of the shield teams, you're on hybrid hunting duty."
He was slightly surprised when no one vetoed those orders, but didn't say anything. He just made his way back to the control room, meeting up with Fairfield on the way. The man looked sick, but he nodded as he saw Sheppard.
"You did what you had to do," the man began, before the pilot cut him off with a sharp glare. Neither of them said anything more until they reached the control room.
Both Chayal and Damora were there waiting for him, and they both turned on him the minute the spotted him.
"You had no right to do that!" Damora began, that natural leadership slipping slightly in Sheppard's eyes. "Our ships were still out there! Still under attack. You had no right to leave them there to die!"
Sheppard's temper flared, the result of a long day, no sleep and the feeling that he really had let them down. But he knew realistically that he had had no other choice, and in the end, reality won.
"So you're second-guessing me now?" he demanded. "Where were you when we were putting this plan together? You were right there with me! Would you have forfeited every single one of our lives in the hope that Michael's sheer firepower wouldn't blow this entire planet to hell before our ships could make it back behind the shields?"
"They are not your ships, Colonel," Chayal reminded him coldly, the words cutting him deep. Her eyes were slits, angry and bitter, and Sheppard was finally beginning to lose the vision of Teyla every time he looked at her.
"You know what?" he hissed. "They're not. They're not my ships, not my people, not even my friends or family, or anyone I know! You think I don't know that? You think I don't remember that tiny, little fact every time I even look at one of you!"
His gaze swept over Damora and Fairfield, over Kate, and the various other technicians watching him yell. "I know they're not my ships! But I have still put my life on the line for them! I've been inches from dying just because I still fight for your people, for your freedom from Michael and his hybrids. And what do you do? You lose control every time something happens that you don't expect, every time your screwed up fantasies of this city, and me, don't go just how you might expect them! You dare stand there and verbally slap me in the face just because I managed to keep my head and come up with a plan to save your lives, and those of your people. Not my people, as you reminded me. Your people!"
He took a deep breath, trying to keep control. "You have no right!" he snarled. "I am not here by choice. I didn't ask to be sent 50,000 years into a future where everything that ever mattered to me is a myth. But I'm still fighting for you. If you don't like how I do it, then grow a set. And come up with ideas yourself. But don't you dare speak to me as if I don't care about your people ever again."
He turned away from them, leaving the two natives properly ashamed, and moved towards Kate, who quickly bent over her computer so as to pretend she hadn't been watching. He let her. He didn't care about that. He couldn't bring himself to. He was far too tired.
"Show me power consumption," he ordered her softly, losing his temper. She nodded, giving him a quick look before tapping away on her computer. The graphs and data came up almost instantly.
He groaned, and then shook his head, before standing up straight as Fairfield joined them. Chayal and Damora remained where they were, speaking softly to each other. "What is it?" Fairfield asked, his pitying voice betraying the composure of his face. Sheppard just ignored it.
"It's our power consumption," he told the man, loud enough to be heard. Both Chayal and Damora stopped their conversation and looked over, distracted by the words. With a glance at each other, they joined Sheppard and Fairfield.
"What about it?" the Olympian asked, and Sheppard shook his head.
"It's rising," he explained. "The vaporizer that Chayal so kindly offered is working at keeping the darts out, but it requires a much greater use of power. And this city isn't as energy conservative as she used to be. Back then, those three ZPMs would have been able to hold this shield for years."
"And now?" Chayal asked, her tone careful. It was obvious she didn't want to upset him again.
He sighed, feeling old and drained and sad. "And now… its will be days. Especially seeing the other systems we have to use to eliminate the threat of the hybrids who managed to beam in, and to scrub the air, life support, etcetera. And taking into account the non-stop blows on the shield and the fact that it's holding back lethal radiation from the dying sun and the fact that this city, no matter who her makers were, was not designed to last forever."
"But days?" Chayal asked, her face pale. "This is the city of the Ancestors. Surely it will last longer!"
Sheppard shook his head and at her computer, Kate joined in. "He's right," she told them. "The power's not going to last much longer. Four days. Five at the most."
Seeing their disbelief was unwavering, Sheppard shook his head again. "This city is old," he told them gently. "So very old, you wouldn't believe it. She was already more than 10 million years old when I first arrived 50,000 years ago." He looked around the room, and up at the wall, as if he could hear the city whispering to him. "She's worn out and tired," he told them returning his gaze to his fellow humans. "She doesn't run like she used to. I told you earlier, Chayal. She is nothing compared to what she used to be. And she just doesn't seem to care anymore."
Fairfield studied him as the two natives dropped their heads in grief. Sheppard ignored the stare and sighed. "We can't stay here," he told them, putting up a hand to stop any rebuttal before it left any mouths. "This city isn't going to last much longer. And for that I will be sad. But if we don't leave, than all really will be lost. If Michael kills us, then you can kiss your people goodbye."
"But this is the city of the Ancestors," Damora told him, sharing a horrified look with Chayal. "You cannot leave it to be used by Michael, of all people."
Sheppard looked at him grimly. "I don't intend to, Damora. I intend to destroy this city before Michael even has a chance."
"Destroy it?" Chayal gasped, and Sheppard remembered Halling having a similar reaction when confronted with the plan to end the Ancient city. "That is… that is sacrilege!"
"Trust me, I've heard that before," Sheppard told her dryly. "But would you rather Michael gain intimate knowledge of your Ancestors, knowledge on advanced weapons and power sources, shields, not to mention the stardrive? All of which he will use to end everything you know. You think you have it bad now? Hiding from and fearing Michael's hybrids and what they will do if they realize you're still around? Imagine what it will be like when he has the knowledge of the Ancestors at his fingertips. He will destroy humanity for good."
They seemed to get it, though neither seemed pleased about. They shared another of those looks that Sheppard was beginning to find infuriating. Couldn't they make their minds up separately?
"Then we must evacuate," Damora accepted. "Though the how is a major question, considering our ships are, regrettably, on their way to the other side of the solar system."
"I know," Sheppard told them. "But if they stay there or go to the rendezvous site when their ships are repaired, they are still only a day away. At most. If we can't dial out before power becomes critical, then we can always call them back. It will be a lot trickier that way, but we can do it."
They all looked down to where the gate remained active, the shield up. Fairfield shook his head. "We keep on trying, but whoever's on the other end is fast. We haven't been able to dial out before they dial back in."
Sheppard nodded. "Michael's annoying like that," he allowed, sitting down and rubbing his face. "Kate, do you think you've learned enough about Ancient tech to speed up the dialling process?"
She nodded, but was unhappy about something. She soon told him what that was, and then he was unhappy about it. "I can," she admitted. "But it will use more power. And if the attempt is a failure, then…"
"Then we lose more power, I know," Sheppard told her. He looked to Fairfield for confirmation. The man nodded. "Do it," the pilot ordered. "Speed it up as much as you can."
He stood up, swaying slightly with exhaustion. Fairfield moved quickly and caught his arm before he fell. Not that he was going to or anything. He looked up and yanked his arm out of the Olympian's grip.
"Sheppard, you need to rest," Fairfield realized. "You're dead on your feet."
"I can rest when we're out of here," he snapped, walking away to prove his point. "Now, however, we still have a bunch of hybrids in our city and I bet they're making Goldman's life hell."
He tapped his radio, deciding he needed to check in on the man, seeing as how they hadn't heard from him in a while. "Goldman, it's Sheppard. What's the count?"
The answer came instantly, but it was hushed. "We're all here, somehow. Most of us have a bleeding something, but it's nothing life threatening." The man paused for a moment. "We've taken out a hell of a lot of hybrids though. How many more are there?"
"Hang on and I'll let you know." Sheppard turned to the nearest technician, who's name he couldn't remember. Didn't have a thing on Chuck though. "Pull up city sensors," he ordered. A moment later the screen he was standing in front of flickered into life, and he winced. Partly for the drain on power this was about to be, and partly because there were far too many off-coloured dots for his liking. He contacted Goldman again.
"You sure you want to know how many hybrids are left?" he asked.
"That many, huh?" Goldman returned, sighing. "So how long am I going to be out here, hunting down these suckers?"
"A while yet," Sheppard admitted. "But it's about to get easier. I'll get someone to talk you and the other hybrid hunters I've got out there through finding them. That way you don't have to search for a needle in a haystack. I'll contact you a little later, see how you're faring."
He turned to the technician, and told him to contact the teams and walk them through finding the hybrids. At least now they shouldn't get any surprises. He turned back to Fairfield.
"How long until we can try dialling out again?" he asked, and Fairfield looked at a third technician to check.
She turned to Sheppard, who recognised her as the woman who had been on duty when Michael first showed up on the scanners. Now that seemed like a lifetime ago. "Twelve minutes, sir," she told him. "But the speed up won't be ready by then."
Sheppard nodded. "Try dialling out anyway. And use the address of the planet where the ships are going. That way you can all meet up."
"And if it's one of Michael's planets?" Damora asked. It was a fair question, but Sheppard just shook his head, smiling at memory.
"It isn't," he told the man. "And if it is, it won't matter, because when you take the ZPM there, you'll be able to get this awesome electromagnetic shield thing working and you'll be protected. All of Michael's worlds will be skeleton crew only. Most of them will be here or in Olympus. With numbers, you'll be able to take them out." Hell, maybe some of the kids' descendents were still alive.
He looked around and wondered what he had forgotten to do. But there didn't seem to be anything, and he took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes again. When he opened them, Fairfield was standing by his elbow, and Sheppard jumped.
"Jesus, ever hear of personal space?" the pilot demanded grumpily. Fairfield shook his head and tapped his own radio.
"Webb, I need you in the control room," the Olympian ordered and Sheppard growled, taking a step back.
"I don't need the doctor," Sheppard told him. "I don't need to sleep. I need to stop Michael from destroying you all and from bringing yet another galaxy to the brink of extinction. Or beyond," he added, feeling a now familiar twinge in his stomach as he thought about Earth.
"I don't care what you think you need. You're swaying where you stand," Fairfield told him. "Webb's checking you out. And, if he orders it, you're taking a nap."
"And who's going to make me?" Sheppard snapped. "And where exactly am I going to do it? Nice sentiment, Fairfield, but we've got hybrids crawling all over this city, and Michael's still waiting to blow us all up."
And then Webb appeared, and Sheppard groaned, knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere with any arguments. Saying nothing more, he went with the doctor to sit in Fairfield's office and allow himself to be checked over.
When he realized that sitting down was the sweetest thing in the world, he began to think maybe Fairfield was right. Okay, he had already known that, really. But the truth really was that he couldn't rest. Not yet. Not now. Not even injured.
"When was the last time you even slept?" Webb demanded, shining a light into Sheppard's eyes. The pilot growled: 50,000 years and they hadn't even managed to come up with a better way than stabbing eyes with light.
"I don't know, doc," he admitted. "Before Michael arrived. Probably before Chayal's ships turned up."
The man gave a slight growl. "You're still healing, Sheppard," Webb accused. "You're meant to be resting and letting your body do what it needs to do."
"I need all of me to do what I need it to do, Webb," the pilot told him dryly. "Else this city wouldn't be here. Remember."
"I do," Webb answered shortly. "I also remember practically sewing you back together when you arrived back here after escaping Michael." He shook his head. "I know you're tired-."
"You have no idea, doc," Sheppard told him before he even knew what he was doing. "I'm exhausted. I don't think I've ever felt so bone-weary in my life. Which is strange, cause I've had plenty of rough days all in a row before, without much sleep and while doing the same, probably more running about saving people's lives."
He looked up at Webb, a little frightened. "I feel like this city," he admitted softly. "Just old and tired. Sick of it all. I miss everyone and everything I knew. I feel like if I could just get back to it, everything would be fine, but I can't, and it hurts like hell. And that hurt has been constant every moment I've been here and now, and it's taking its toll."
He licked his lips and looked away, shaking his head, deep in thought. So deep, he couldn't even see Webb's pity and sadness. He didn't even see it when he looked back and stared into the man's eyes.
"Sorry doc," he told Webb, not really seeing him. "But the check up is over." And he pushed the man's hands away and stood up, moving back out into the control room to where Fairfield stood talking with Damora and Chayal.
"I've got an idea," he told them softly. "But you're not going to like it."