Teyla stood near the door to the Wraith control room, alternately watching the hall and the activity in the room behind her. Daley and Masters wandered around the room, pressing their hands against the walls and checking the smaller alcoves. Doctor DeCampo held a video camera in one hand and stood to one side as Doctor Chaudhri pressed various controls on the console then squinted at the screen on the wall behind the control station. Doctor Zelenka and Doctor Tsao knelt on the far side of the room, pulling more tendrils out of the wall. They had the cables for the portable generators laid out in front of them and were carefully splicing the power cables into the tendrils of semi-organic matter.
"Everything still seems clear," Sergeant Garcia said as he came down the hallway toward Teyla.
"And the route back to the entrance is marked?" Teyla asked. "With all of the twists, it would not be difficult for someone to become lost trying to find this room or the way to the exit."
Garcia nodded and held up a small can of spray paint. "Just follow the arrows."
"Thank you, Sergeant," Teyla said with a nod. She heard the portable generator cycle behind her and looked over at Zelenka and Tsao.
"Yes, yes, I think that's it," Doctor Zelenka said, and Teyla glanced up as the lighting in the room increased.
"Good work," Teyla said as Radek and Doctor Tsao stood.
Even in the better light, the room was not much to really look at. Teyla saw more of the long, twined tendrils of ropey material climbing up the walls, and a large, pouch-like stalactite hung from the ceiling in the far corner of the room.
Zelenka packed up a few of his tools and glanced around at the rest of the room. "The generators should supply enough power to the building for at least a few days. Long enough for us to come up with a better long-term solution." He walked over to the control console and studied the screen on the wall.
"Have you found anything else of interest?" he asked Chaudhri, who stood staring at the screen.
"It is difficult to say," Chaudhri replied. "The medical files were easy to decipher due to the accompanying images." He jerked his chin at the screen. "This may be something on the design of their hive ships …" He shrugged and crossed one arm over his chest, pressing a finger to his lips as he studied the screen. "Or it might be something else entirely. I can't be certain without more study."
"Hmm, I see what you mean," Zelenka said and glanced at Chaudhri. "May I?" he asked and waited for Chaudhri to step back from the console. "If there is an easy way to download the database, we can use the servers back in Atlantis to help with translations and sort the data."
Tsao joined him at the console, and the pair of them fell to discussing various methods for incorporating the Earth-based computer tech with the Wraith systems.
Teyla watched as Doctor DeCampo finished videotaping the control console and slowly walked around the rest of the room, filming as she moved. She then disappeared into one of the small alcoves lining the wall next to the door and Teyla turned back to the console.
Zelenka and Tsao studied the controls for the console, then knelt and ran their hands over the control station's base. "There must be a way to access the internal systems," Tsao muttered as he examined the base.
Zelenka stood and walked around the console. "Perhaps not," he said with a frown. "We know the Wraith are much more compartmentalised in how they divide tasks. It is possible this station was never intended to be accessed by external systems so -"
"Doctor Zelenka!" Doctor DeCampo called from the alcove near the door. "I think I've found something."
Teyla followed as Zelenka and Tsao hurried over to the alcove. "What is it?" Teyla asked, stopping in the doorway of the small room.
"I think this might be some sort of work station," DeCampo replied. "I wanted to get good images of the room for Doctor McKay and pressed one of the … keys?" She pointed to something that looked similar to a computer keyboard. "I wanted to see what would happen, and all of this came on."
The alcove was lit with the same glowing fixtures in the wall as the larger room, and Teyla had to agree, the space did look like a small work area. The 'keyboard' sat on a narrow desk, and there was another screen embedded in the wall above the desk.
Doctor Zelenka studied the work station. "Yes, yes," he said with a smile at DeCampo. "You may have solved our problem accessing the database."
"I do not understand," Teyla said. "If the main console is the network center, would it not be better to access the information there?"
Zelenka tilted his head and pressed his lips together. "So far, we have been unable to find a way to connect one of our computers to the control console. There does not appear to be any sort of external access point for data transfers."
He pressed a few keys and watched how the information on the screen changed. "With this," he nodded at the screen, "the scope may be more limited, but it is more likely that a work station such as this was designed to allow for information sharing."
Zelenka knelt and studied the underside of the desk. As Teyla watched, he pressed his hand along the semi-organic wall and glanced at Tsao when one section gave under his questing fingers. "There could be an access point here," he said to Tsao, who knelt beside him and handed Zelenka a screwdriver.
Radek nodded his thanks, carefully pried off the housing, and dropped it beside him.
"There," Tsao said, pointing at something inside the hole. "Does that look like the same configuration we found in the Ancient systems?"
"I believe so, yes," Zelenka agreed. He reached into the hole and pulled out a bundle of components and wires surrounded by more of the semi-organic tendrils.
"Was your hypothesis correct?" Teyla asked as Zelenka studied the mass of wires.
Doctor Zelenka looked up at her with a nod and held up the bundle in his hands. "The underlying architecture of this system is very similar to the consoles in Atlantis. It should be a simple matter of adapting our existing interface tools to allow one of the laptops to connect to it."
"I'll get one of the computers," Tsao said and left the room.
Zelenka turned to Teyla once Tsao was gone and said, "The only thing left to decide is what we should download first?"
Teyla pressed her lips together. All of the data could be important. How was she to choose? What information would give the most benefit to their survival against the Wraith? Information on their weapons and technology? Navigational data? She remembered Rodney's comment about Doctor Beckett's retrovirus research, and as much as she didn't agree with the idea, she knew Carson would want whatever information they could find.
"Ask Doctor Chaudhri to find the medical files again," she finally replied as Tsao walked back into the room carrying a computer. "It is something we should be able to recognise, and Doctor Beckett was eager to gain more information regarding Wraith physiology. It will also be a good test to see if we can access any sort of data from these terminals."
Radek nodded and took the laptop Tsao held out to him. "If this works, we may be able to access other data from the remaining compartments and download more information simultaneously," Radek said as he wired the laptop into the Wraith systems.
"How many computers did your team bring here today?" Teyla asked.
"Three," Zelenka replied. "All of them have Rodney's compression program installed, so we should, hopefully, be able to download a great deal."
The screen on the laptop glowed to life, and Teyla watched as a stream of data scrolled up the display.
"Yes, I think it worked," Zelenka said. He typed a long string into the computer, ran a finger down the side of the screen then looked up at Teyla. "The computer is connected to the Wraith system and is receiving data." He nodded to Doctor Chaudhri and added, "If you can tell me when I find the medical files again?"
Chaudhri nodded as Zelenka sat in front of the screen. He studied the 'keyboard' for several moments, pressed a few of the keys, and looked up at Chaudhri.
"No," Chaudhri replied and squinted at the screen. "This is something about work assignments."
Zelenka typed a string of code on the computer, then pressed a different series of keys on the Wraith station.
"Yes, this could be it," Chaudhri said. He bent forward and studied the lines of text crawling across the screen. "That could be a medical file. This looks like information on some sort of genetic test."
As Teyla watched, the same images she remembered from the screen in the central control room appeared on the screen over the desk.
"Yes, I think we have the correct files," Chaudhri said as he peered at the screen over the desk.
Doctor Zelenka typed another string of code into the laptop, and the same series of pictures appeared on the computer screen. "The data appears to be downloading," he said as he stood and set the laptop on the edge of the desk. "We will have to wait to see how much information the computer will hold."
"Do you have an estimate as to how long the download will take?" Teyla asked Zelenka.
Zelenka shrugged. "It will depend on how large the files are. It could be hours." He walked into the next alcove and added, "Now that we know this idea will work, we will likely need several more hard drives. Even with the computers using Rodney's compression program, we will not be able to retrieve all of the data with the few computers we brought with us."
"We are due to check-in with Doctor Weir in the morning," Teyla replied. "I will request more data drives be sent through to us."
Zelenka wired the second laptop into the new work station and turned back to Teyla, "Any requests?" he asked with a smile.
Teyla shook her head. "Perhaps whatever information you can find about their ships?"
"Good idea," Zelenka replied. He sat in front of the work station and glanced at Chaudhri. "Whenever you are ready," Radek said to Chaudhri.
Teyla walked back through the main control room and out into the hall. She checked her watch as she glanced up and down the hall then returned to the control room.
"No sign of them yet?" Sergeant Garcia asked when she leant against the wall next to the door.
"No." Teyla glanced at her watch again. "I will wait a little longer before trying to contact Ronon. It has only been an hour or so since they left."
Garcia nodded and wandered over to Daley and Masters standing against the far wall.
Teyla watched the hallway for a few more moments and turned when she saw Doctor Chaudhri walk back over to the main console and study the controls.
"You were able to find information on the hive ships for Doctor Zelenka?" Teyla asked as she stopped next to the console.
"I think so," Doctor Chaudhri replied. "We found schematics for something. Doctor Zelenka wants me to see if I can find any sort of central directory for the database."
Teyla gave him an absent nod as he pressed one of the bulbous controls and read the string of symbols on the screen in front of him.
"That is odd," Chaudhri muttered.
Teyla glanced over at him, but before she could ask what the matter was, the console powered down, the lights in the room and the hall dimmed to their earlier feeble glow, and the door leading back into the rest of the complex slammed closed.
~*~*~*~ SGA ~*~*~*~
The room wasn't pitch black; a few dim lights glowed from behind the membranous walls. While it wasn't much, there was enough light for Carson to see Ronon and Thompson standing near the entrance. He watched as Ronon slammed his fists against the solid door where the entrance used to be.
"Do you see a control panel anywhere?" Derek asked as he examined the wall to the left of the door.
"No," Ronon replied. He pulled the particle weapon out of its holster and aimed it at the door.
"Wait!" Carson yelled, but it was too late.
Ronon fired several blasts into the door, but as far as Carson could tell, the energy beams had had no effect. The door didn't helpfully open. There wasn't even a hole they could squeeze through. Carson ran his hand over the spot Ronon had aimed for, and he couldn't feel any heat either.
"That is amazing," he muttered as he pulled a tiny flashlight out of a vest pocket, clicked it on, and studied the door again. "The semi-organic component must work as a dampener. The energy is scattered across a wider area, making energy weapons useless."
"We can always try old-fashioned projectiles," Derek said and held up the P-90.
"You want to shoot it?" Carson asked, and glanced at the P-90 in Thompson's hand.
"Worth a try," Thompson replied. "You should probably stand clear, Doc," he added.
Carson gave him a startled glance, then nodded and took cover near the console.
Thompson waited until Carson was ready, glanced at Ronon and raised the P-90. He fired a short burst, stopped, studied the door, then fired again. He turned to Ronon and Carson and shook his head.
"No joy," he reported as Carson walked back over to the door.
He could see the minor dents where the bullets had impacted the door, but even as he watched, the door appeared to seal over the holes until there was no evidence of the damage. He ran his hand over the door and shook his head. "Amazing."
"Not from where I'm standing," Ronon said. "We're still stuck in here."
"There must be a control panel around here somewhere," Carson said as he glanced at one wall and then the other.
"Maybe not," Ronon growled.
"If there isn't a control panel, how do we get out of the room?" Carson asked.
"That's the point," Ronon growled as he walked back over to the door and took the flashlight from Carson. "We can't." He played the flashlight over the door and then the wall.
"So it was all an elaborate trap?" Thompson asked as he flashed the barrel light for his P-90 over the walls on the other side of the door.
"Seems like it," Ronon replied.
"What triggered it, I wonder," Carson said as he walked around the perimeter of the room.
"My guess," Ronon replied and turned the flashlight beam so it highlighted Carson.
"Me?" Carson yelped. "What did I do?"
"You touched that," Ronon replied and pointed at the control console. "You have the Ancestor's gene. Maybe the Wraith figured out a way to detect it and used that to trigger their trap."
Carson thought about that for a moment. "We know the Wraith had some sort of way to detect their own genetic signature."
"We do?" Thompson asked.
Ronon glanced from Thompson to Carson, then nodded. "Teyla told me about a cave she found that she could access, but Sheppard and McKay couldn't."
"Exactly," Carson replied. "If the Ancients had figured out a way to use the ATA gene as a sort of genetic key, we have to assume the Wraith would have learnt about it at some point. There's no reason to assume the Wraith hadn't invented a similar sort of technology." Carson eyed the console with distaste. "It wouldn't be that much of a leap for the Wraith to find a way to use the ATA genetic key against the Ancients."
Carson stared at the wall in front of him, lost in thought. "I wonder …" He walked over to the console, careful not to touch any of the controls. "If I can discover the Wraith version of the ATA gene, that could be the key to solving the issues with the retrovirus," he muttered more to himself than to Ronon or Derek.
"So this trap wasn't meant for us," Thompson concluded. "It was meant for the Ancients."
Ronon nodded. "Which would explain why this place has been abandoned for so long. The Ancestors never found it, so the trap was never tripped."
"Until we got here," Carson said. He looked around the rest of the room and then down at the console. "Hang on a tic," he said a few moments later and looked at Ronon. "You said you thought I had set off the trap."
"You're the only one here with the gene, and you touched the console," Ronon replied with a shrug.
Carson held up a finger. "But I'm not the only one with the gene who has been in this building." He walked over and stood next to Ronon. "Doctor Chaudhri accessed the main console before we left that other room. He has the ATA gene. And I assume Rodney accessed that console when your team was here before?"
Ronon paused in his examination of the wall next to the door. "Yeah."
"He has the gene, too," Carson pointed out. "So why didn't either of them set off this trap?"
"Power," Thompson replied.
"I'm sorry?" Carson said with a glance at Derek.
"There wasn't enough power before. Once Doctor Zelenka got the generators up and running, then there was enough energy to trigger the Wraith's original plan."
"So what did the Wraith intend to do once they had a group of Ancients trapped inside this building?" Carson asked.
"Simple," Ronon replied. "They intended to kill them."
~*~*~*~ SGA ~*~*~*~
A cold breeze blowing across his face woke John with a start. He groaned from the rude awakening and was about to yell at McKay to close the balcony door when he cracked open his eyes and saw the world was upside down. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then opened them again, but it didn't seem to help. Everything was still the wrong side up. He blinked a few more times and groaned again as several aches made themselves known. His head was pounding, and for some reason, it was difficult to concentrate. He reached out to touch the window he rested against and hissed in a breath when something in his side pulled.
"What the hell?" he muttered. He rubbed his head and frowned at the blood on his fingers as memories flashed in front of him.
Driving through the snow.
Rodney complaining about the traffic.
The spike strip across the road.
John jerked upright, banging his head against the roof of the car.
"Gah!" he groaned and reached up to rub the new ache.
John heard an answering moan coming from beside him, turned, and found Rodney lying against the crushed passenger-side door with his eyes closed. Glass littered the floor as well as McKay's coat and hair, and it took John a few extra seconds to conclude the car must have rolled before eventually landing on its roof.
"Rodney?" John called and reached out a hand for McKay's arm.
Rodney groaned again, and John was relieved when he saw McKay's eyes open. "Wha' hap'n'd?" he asked.
John frowned at the slurred words. "The car crashed," he replied.
Rodney nodded absently. "Hmm," he muttered and started to close his eyes.
"Hey!" John shook Rodney's arm again. "You need to stay awake."
He heard McKay sigh, but Rodney opened his eyes again. He stared out the windscreen with a puzzled expression, then glanced at John. "Are we upside down?" he asked.
"Yes," John replied. "The car crashed, remember?" he added with a worried frown.
Rodney turned to John with a scowl. "You crashed the car?"
"I had help," John retorted. "Are you all right?"
Rodney started to shake his head, then winced and grabbed his right shoulder. "No. You crashed the car on me."
John grimaced but let the snarky reply go for the moment. "Where are you hurt?"
"Shoulder," Rodney replied. "And I can't move my right foot."
"Stay still," John told him.
John braced his feet as best he could and unbuckled his seatbelt. He then tried to open his door, but it refused to budge. He groaned as his side throbbed, pushed against the door harder, and heard the metal squeal in protest as he forced the door open enough to crawl out of the car.
John braced his hand against the car, pulled himself slowly to his feet, and looked around. It had stopped snowing, but even though it was mid-afternoon, the low-hanging clouds blocked much of the light and made it feel much later.
The car was on its roof near the side of the road, and the two front tires were shredded. Glass littered the pavement behind the car, and John scowled when he saw the spike strips were gone.
Someone had done this to them and then removed the evidence, he realised. Which meant that same someone had witnessed the crash and was probably still watching, waiting to see what they did next. John turned in a slow circle, looking for anything suspicious or out of place. He discarded the idea that this was some sort of random attack. There was only one person he could think of that would want to deliberately cause their car to crash.
"Damn," he muttered as he pushed himself upright and slowly made his way around to Rodney's side of the car. So much for the idea Vance had given up on his plans of revenge for his brother's death.
John's head pounded with each step, and his side felt tight as he walked around the front of the car. Once he was sure he was out of Rodney's line of sight, he stopped, unzipped his coat, and lifted his shirt to inspect the damage. A red welt ran across his chest in the shape of the seatbelt, and there was another reddish-purple bruise along his side.
Probably from the door, John thought as he carefully probed his ribs.
He didn't feel anything give and counted himself lucky that he didn't have broken ribs. If he was right about why they were targeted, he and Rodney were going to need to move quickly and find some help before Vance caught up with them and finished the job he'd started.
John dropped his shirt and zipped his coat as he surveyed the woods. He had to give Vance credit; he had picked a good spot for his little ambush. John didn't see any farms nearby, and he had a vague memory of the road they were on cutting through some sort of wilderness area. He took a breath and wrinkled his nose at the combined odors of decaying plants, sulfur, and wet dirt.
A wetland, he realised. That could complicate things if they had to avoid a swamp in addition to however many men Vance had with him.
John came around the front of the car and stopped short. Rodney's side of the car was a mess. The whole length of the car was crumpled, the side mirror was gone, as was the passenger window, and the door frame was crushed and bent.
Thank god, for safety glass, John thought to himself as he carefully knelt down and studied the damage.
He glanced through the window and shook his head when he saw the welt on McKay's forehead and that Rodney had his eyes closed again.
"Rodney?" John asked as he tapped Rodney's arm through the window. "You with me?"
"Where else … would I be?" Rodney grumbled in reply, but he opened his eyes, and John heard more pain in his voice than anger.
John gave the door handle a tug, but with the damage he could see, he wasn't surprised when the door wouldn't open.
"Well?" Rodney asked with a glance at John.
John shook his head and bent forward enough to see Rodney through the remains of the window. "The door is jammed," he reported.
"So how am I getting out?"
Good question, John said to himself as he studied the damage. If the door wouldn't open, that only left two options, but John wasn't sure Rodney was in any condition to try either of them.
He reached through the window and started to unzip Rodney's coat.
"Hey!" Rodney exclaimed and swatted at John's hand.
"I need to see how bad your shoulder is," John told him.
Rodney glowered at him for a moment longer, then unzipped the coat himself.
"This is probably going to hurt, but I'll try to be quick," John said. He waited until Rodney took a deep breath, then reached through the window and braced his hands against the front and back of Rodney's shoulder.
He didn't feel any strange lumps or bulges indicating the joint was dislocated, but he could feel the heat coming from the joint. He shifted the collar of McKay's shirt enough to see that the area around his shoulder was swollen.
"Can you move your arm at all?" he asked.
He felt Rodney rotate his arm and heard him hiss in pain. "Sort of," Rodney replied.
John nodded and let go of his shoulder. "If it was dislocated, I think it popped itself back in. Once we have you out of the car, we'll need to find a way to immobilise your arm until we can get help."
"Speaking of which," Rodney said with a look around the door frame, "how am I getting out?"
"Think you can crawl across to the other side of the car?" John asked.
"Are you kidding?" Rodney replied as he cradled his right arm against his chest.
"It's either that or trying to squeeze through the window."
"Lovely," Rodney muttered as he reached for the belt release.
"Wait a minute," John said. "Let me get back around and try to help."
John hurried back around the car, ignoring the throbbing in his side as much as the itch at the back of his head.
"All right, take it slow," John said once he was back around to the open door.
Rodney unclipped the seat belt and winced as he jarred his shoulder in the process. He grasped John's offered hand and started to shift in his seat but froze a moment later.
"What's wrong?" John asked.
"I can't," Rodney paused and twisted his waist in the seat. "I still can't move my foot." He shifted again, and John saw the fear eclipsing the pain on Rodney's face.
John grimaced and glanced up and down the road. He remembered the road had had little traffic even before the crash, which meant no passers-by could help or alert the authorities.
And Vance was still out there, John reminded himself. They needed to get away from the car, he told himself, sooner rather than later.
He suspected whoever had laid out the spike strips, whether it was Vance or some accomplice, was watching to see what they did next. "He's playing with you," John growled under his breath.
How much longer would they wait? he wondered and turned back to Rodney, his expression hard.
"What?" Rodney asked as John crouched down in the open door. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," John replied and tried to give Rodney a reassuring smile.
"I don't believe you."
John ducked his head and sighed. He didn't want Rodney panicking over the idea that Vance was hunting them again, but he also knew McKay had a right to the truth.
"Remember how I said the accident wasn't completely an accident?" John waited for Rodney to nod and then continued, "Someone laid out a spike strip. That's what caused the car to roll." He gave Rodney a significant look and waited for him to put the pieces together.
"Vance?" Rodney whispered. "You think Vance did this?"
"Is there anyone else on Earth with a reason to want to try and kill us?" John asked.
Rodney stared at him for a moment, then tried to pull his leg free from whatever was trapping him.
"Stop!" John ordered. "Let me see if I can figure out what's wrong."
John groaned as he climbed back to his feet and circled the car. All of the moving and bending was making his own injuries ache. He tried to hide his grimace of pain as he knelt down against the broken passenger window a few seconds later, but Rodney must have seen it.
"You never said how badly you were hurt," Rodney said as John studied the car door.
John ignored the unspoken question as he squeezed his head inside Rodney's window and looked up at the underside of the dashboard. From what he could see, Rodney's leg wasn't crushed or bleeding, but his foot was pinned between the crumpled door and the dashboard by the computer bag.
"I know something is wrong with you," Rodney tried again. "I can feel the tingling, so you can stop trying to pretend everything is fine."
John ducked back out of the car. "It's not that bad," he replied. He saw Rodney's skeptical look and added, "A headache and maybe bruised ribs, that's it."
"You're bleeding."
"What?" John said as he studied the door frame.
"Your head," Rodney told him, pointing at his own eye. "You're bleeding."
John swiped his hand over his brow and grimaced at the smear of blood on his fingers. "I think I hit my head on the door," John replied. He brushed his hand over the cut again. "Nothing we can do about it at the moment," he added and wiped his fingers on his jeans.
Rodney eyed him for a few moments, then nodded down at his foot. "So?"
John sat back on his heels. "The good news is, I don't think your leg or foot has been crushed. I think you're just pinned by the computer bag. If I can reach it and move it out of the way, you should be able to pull yourself out."
"And the bad news?"
John grimaced. "I'm pretty sure your computer is toast."
Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What else can go wrong today?" he muttered under his breath.
John gave him a moment, then leant back through the window. "Ready?" he asked.
"I guess," Rodney replied.
John braced one hand on the door frame and stretched until his fingers brushed the strap for the bag. "Almost," John said, his voice tight as he strained to reach the strap, and his side protested.
He adjusted his hold on the door and tried again. He managed to grab the strap the second time and tugged the bag in one direction, then the other. He felt the bag slip, and a few seconds later, pulled it free of the wheel well.
"Here," John said and dropped the bag in Rodney's lap as he pulled himself back out of the window. "Can you move your foot?"
Rodney twisted his hips and nodded.
"All right, wait until I'm back around to help," John said.
He groaned under his breath as he stood and paused at the front of the car long enough to grab his aching side and bent forward for a moment, trying to ease the pain. He took a couple of quick breaths, then rounded the car and knelt inside the open door.
"Ready?" he asked.
Rodney dropped the bag behind John's seat and nodded.
"Slow and easy," John said and held out his hand.
Rodney wriggled out of the seat, grasped John's hand, and pulled himself across to the open door. John did his best to help guide him around the console between the seats and the steering wheel. Once Rodney was finally out of the car, he sat with his back against the rear wheel, wrapped his left arm around his right, and bent forward with his eyes squeezed shut.
John gave him a moment, then asked, "Doing okay?"
Rodney opened his eyes but didn't move from his curled position around his arm. "Peachy," he muttered with another groan.
John reached back into the car and unclipped the strap for the computer bag. "This should help," he said as he looped the strap over Rodney's good shoulder, then under his right arm and clipped the two ends together.
"Thanks," Rodney replied and tried to sit up straight.
John nodded and sat back on his heels.
"I don't suppose you can get a cell signal?" Rodney asked as he tugged on the strap against his neck.
"Not sure," John replied. "Been a bit busy." He reached into the pocket of his coat and grimaced as he felt the broken pieces. "So much for that idea," he said and held up the flip phone now in two pieces.
Rodney looked up at him. "It might not be that bad," he said. "If the computer boards are still intact -"
John shook his head. "We don't have time," he replied. "We've already been here too long. It's only a matter of time before Vance, or whoever left the spike strip, comes looking to see what happened. We need to move."
John spotted the pained expression on McKay's face and narrowed his eyes as Rodney looked anywhere but at John. "All right, now who's pretending?"
Rodney started to protest, but John shook his head. "How bad is your foot?" he asked as he bent down and pushed up the leg of Rodney's khakis. Rodney's lower leg was mottled and bruised, but he didn't see any blood. "Can you feel your toes?"
Rodney looked down, and John felt the muscles contract as Rodney bent his foot up and down. "Umm, yes. My ankle hurts, but not as bad as the last time."
John had a fleeting image of the pair of them limping through an alien forest with dozens of angry natives chasing them. "Okay, in that case, it's probably not broken. Are you going to be able to walk?"
"Do I have a choice?" Rodney asked with a grimace as he moved his foot out of John's light hold.
"Not really, no."
"Then I guess I can walk."
John stood, looked up and down the road, and shook his head. What was Vance waiting for? he wondered when he didn't see anyone either on the road or in the nearby trees.
"Where are we going to go?" Rodney asked as he pulled himself to his feet, wincing as he tried to put weight on his right foot. "All I see is trees." He wrinkled his nose and added. "And there's some sort of marsh nearby. I do not want to end up knee-deep in a swamp in the dark."
"We should have a few hours before it gets dark," John replied. "Plenty of time to find a house or store that has a phone we can use."
"Or for someone to find us," Rodney muttered under his breath. He took a limping step but shook off John's helping hand under his arm.
John couldn't disagree with that. He took one last look at the overturned car and the road where the spike strips had been, then caught up with Rodney, already several steps ahead of him.
The road followed a gentle curve, and it wasn't long before the wrecked car was out of sight. Unfortunately, John didn't see anything like a house or any other buildings, and he didn't hear any traffic coming toward them either. He walked a little faster, hoping to see some sign of civilisation but all he found were more trees, and the wetland smell was stronger.
"Wonderful," Rodney muttered as it started snowing again.
John turned and frowned when he saw McKay was several steps behind him, clutching his right arm against his chest as he limped down the side of the road. John walked back toward McKay, chastising himself for getting so far ahead. Rodney's foot was obviously hurting more than he had let on, and even if the shoulder joint hadn't completely separated, walking, not to mention the cold weather, was going to make it ache.
John braced his arm against his side as his own injuries throbbed. "How are you doing?" he asked as he glanced back down the road.
"It's snowing and - Hey!" Rodney exclaimed as John grabbed his arm and pushed him off the road. "What the -"
John saw the furrow in the pavement where they had been standing, and a split second later, he heard the report from the rifle.
"Into the trees!" John ordered and pushed Rodney from behind.
Rodney gave him a wide-eyed look, then limped as fast as he could toward the small copse of trees lining the road.
Another bullet ricocheted off the pavement, and John ducked as he followed, pushing Rodney to move faster.
They made it into the trees, and once he was sure he and Rodney were out of sight, John turned back to the road.
"Is it Vance?" Rodney asked in a low hiss.
John motioned him to be quiet and bent lower as a man hurried out of the bushes along the opposite side of the road. The man slung a rifle over his shoulder by a strap, and John grimaced as he jogged up the road in their direction.
John didn't wait to see who the man was or what he did next. "Stay low and stay with me," he ordered as he skirted around Rodney and led the way through the trees.
The copse ended a few hundred feet later in an open field. A deeper forest lay on the other side of the field, but John heard someone scrambling through the brush behind them. He glanced at Rodney standing beside him, his right arm clutched against his chest as he leant against a tree to take his weight off his foot. A branch snapped behind them, and Rodney stared back into the trees.
"We need to keep going," Rodney said, and tried to stand straight.
John pursed his lips as he studied the open ground between them and the hoped-for safety of the woods. He knew with the way McKay was limping, he would never make it into the forest without being seen.
"Okay," John said and turned to Rodney. "I need you to do exactly what I say and don't argue about it."
Rodney scowled. "When you say things like that, it's usually because you're about to do something incredibly stupid."
John ignored him and glanced behind them. "Whoever is shooting at us isn't that far behind us. You need to get across that open area and into those trees. Find someplace to hide and wait for me."
"Wait for you?" Rodney parroted and shook his head. "Where are you going?"
John pressed his lips together. "I'm going to try and lead our friend back there in another direction."
"See, stupid idea," Rodney retorted.
They didn't have time for this, John knew. Whoever was tracking them was getting close. "You aren't going to be able to run on that foot," John told him and gave Rodney a push toward the field. "We need to get this guy off our trail. So I need you to get into those trees and wait for me to come back."
Rodney glowered at him for a few more seconds, then nodded. "Fine," he muttered as he limped into the clearing. "But I still say this is a really bad idea."
John waited until Rodney was halfway across the clearing, then backtracked until he found another break in the trees. "Come and get me," he muttered under his breath, and he headed in the opposite direction from where he had left McKay.
~*~*~*~ SGA ~*~*~*~
The snow still fell in a gentle shower as Rodney made his way into the trees on the other side of the field. He ducked under the branches of the nearest tree and watched the snow stick on the grass in the field. If there was any good part of Sheppard's reckless plan, it was that the deeper forest protected him from the weather.
He waited several minutes, and when Sheppard didn't appear, he scrubbed a hand over his face, turned, and started walking, or at least limping through the woods. There wasn't a path, and he pushed through the branches and low scrub brush as best he could. He knew he was leaving a trail even someone like Zelenka would be able to follow, but he kept moving.
"Find a place to hide," Rodney grumbled under his breath as he limped through the woods. "We're in the middle of nowhere, New York. Where exactly am I supposed to hide?"
There were no caves, and the trees were just normal-sized trees. The only thing Rodney was aware of in addition to the continual ache in his shoulder and foot was the distinct odor of decaying plants that meant he was getting closer to the marsh.
"Great," he muttered and stopped walking. He sniffed the air, trying to figure out where the marsh was so he could avoid it, but it was no use. Ronon or Teyla could probably tell where the smell came from, but he couldn't. He picked a different direction at random and tried to distract himself from the pain and the smell by thinking about how he had ended up traipsing through the woods in upstate New York, alone, with someone shooting at him.
"I guess Vance really was that much of an idiot," he muttered as he walked.
Was Vance's vendetta even about his brother anymore? Rodney wondered as he pushed his way through the low brush and grimaced when his foot caught on something he couldn't see.
He looked down and saw his foot was caught in a knot of tree roots. He hissed as he worked his foot free, and stood for a moment with his hand braced on the trunk of a nearby tree, waiting for the throbbing to ease. Once he could put weight on his foot, he glanced around, grumbled under his breath when he didn't see John anywhere, and started walking again.
As far as Rodney could tell, there was no logical reason for Vance to risk returning to the States. He had managed to evade every law enforcement agency looking for him. It made no sense for him to risk capture now. Or had the idea of making Sheppard pay for imagined slights so totally consumed him, Vance was no longer guided by such things as logic or self-preservation?
"And how did he find out about the conference to even know to come back to the States now?" Rodney asked one of the trees.
He pushed through another stand of young oak trees and blew out a breath of relief when he found a dirt path.
"Finally, some good luck," he muttered.
The path had a layer of fine gravel over the top of the dirt and Rodney winced when the stones crunched under his feet as he stepped onto the track. He'd been on enough missions to know the path was probably man-made instead of an animal path and studied the muddy track in front of him. He didn't see any footprints and hoped that meant no one was around.
"Why would they?" he muttered to himself with a glare at the snow falling on the path in front of him and quickly melting. "So which way do you want to go?" he asked himself.
He had no idea where he was. He wasn't sure where Sheppard was either. He stared at the path, weighing his options for a few more seconds, then turned to his right and started walking again.
He made better time on the path, and Rodney thought he'd been walking for ten minutes or so when he heard the gravel crunching behind him. He froze for a moment, then dove for the limited cover of the nearest trees. He pushed his way back from the trail several paces and grimaced when he felt his boot sink into the ground. He pulled his foot out of the muck and backpedalled to more solid ground.
"As if I didn't have enough problems," Rodney grumbled as he looked down at his muddy boot.
The crunching noise on the path came closer and Rodney froze. Stay where he was or try to see who was following him? he wondered. "Better to know," he muttered under his breath.
He pushed his way through the underbrush until he could see the path in front of him. It wasn't long before he heard the heavy footfalls of someone coming down the path toward him. He knelt behind a pine tree and peered back through a break in the branches.
Sheppard? he wondered. Or was it whoever had been shooting at them on the road?
It didn't take long for a man to come into sight on the trail. Rodney crouched lower and held his breath when he saw, not Sheppard, but a man wearing a brown coat and a ball cap that hid his face. The man didn't have a rifle with him, but Rodney didn't care. All that mattered was the man wasn't Sheppard. The man glanced in his direction and Rodney hid behind the tree.
He counted to ten in his head, then peeked through the tree branches and watched as the man paused, then bent down and studied the path. The man poked the ground with a finger, then wiped the muddy digit on his trousers and glanced around again.
Rodney had watched Ronon do the same thing enough times to know the man must have seen his footprints on the muddy track.
Should have stuck to the woods, Rodney chastised himself as the man nodded and stood.
The man glanced toward Rodney, then looked past him into the deeper trees. After a few more seconds, the man turned to his right and continued down the trail.
Rodney blew out a breath and sat with his back to a nearby tree, listening to the crunching noise fade. So there was more than one person after them, he realised. Considering Vance had recruited Bowers to help him the last time, Rodney knew he shouldn't be surprised Vance had found more help.
He dug through his trouser pocket, pulled out the challenge coin, and twisted it through his fingers as he considered what to do next. Did John know there was more than one person following them when he suggested they split up? he wondered. Would he be so reckless as to try and take on several men at once?
Rodney had a flash memory of Sheppard piloting a jumper loaded with a nuclear bomb toward a Wraith hive ship and knew the answer was probably yes. John would do whatever he had to do to protect others with little regard for his own safety.
Rodney stared at the coin in his hand and considered what he should do next. He could do what Sheppard ordered and stay where he was. But who was to say there were only two men out in these woods. Maybe Vance had hired a dozen men to find them this time. If that were the case, John could be walking into some sort of trap, and Rodney would never even know what had happened to him.
The only good thing Rodney could think of was that he hadn't felt anything through the link. John couldn't be that far away from him, so if something had already happened to him, Rodney was sure he would know it. He toyed with the coin and watched the snow as it fell and started to stick to the nearby tree branches.
"Come on, Sheppard, where are you?" Rodney muttered and glanced at the empty path.
By Rodney's best estimate, it had been thirty minutes or more since John had told him to keep going and hide. Should he try looking for Sheppard or try to make it back to the road and find help? He glanced down at his arm supported by the strap and shook his head. Even supposing he did manage to find someone to ask for help, chances were they wouldn't believe his wild story of assassins in the woods trying to kill them.
Rodney waited a few more minutes, then twisted around enough to check the trail. He hadn't heard any more movement on the path, and the man hadn't come back. Rodney stared at the trail for a few more seconds, then decided enough was enough. He had no intention of freezing to death in the woods, waiting for John to come back for him, or worse, ending up captured by one of Vance's henchmen and used as bait for another trap. He needed to try and find John.
He clutched the coin in his left hand, braced his fist against the trunk of the tree, and pushed himself to his feet. His foot throbbed when he took a step, and Rodney kept his hand on the tree while he waited for the ache to fade. Once the pain receded, he took one last look at the trail, making sure no one was around and stepped away from the tree.
"Where do you think you're going?" a voice growled behind him.