Inside the Stasis Pod
Terra Atlantus
Antarctica
The Dream
Noises…
These were familiar noises. They were generated by his beloved Sikorsky HH-60 Pave Hawk: The slap of the rotors overhead, the faint crackle from his headphones, voice of Mr. J. Smith, who was acting as his crew for the record, requesting updates on something very important or other through his very classified comms channel, the faint whooshing sound that carried over as his own chopper caught the backlash of the other chopper that appeared seemingly out of nowhere and on its way down fast to a painful crash.
Wait…
That shouldn't be there with the familiar noises, should it?
No. It shouldn't.
That was why he aborted his own forward momentum to follow the Black Hawk that was having a bad day. He drowned out Mr. Smith's indignant protests as he tried to raise the crashing bird on the comms to no avail. He remembered to flash off a quick update to his destination about the possible crash and an emergency rescue. Then he signed off without waiting for their acknowledgement or orders.
By some miracle or other the other chopper made landfall in more or less one piece. But half of its tail broke off upon impacting the rough terrain below. It came to a stop listing on to its side and John could see the occupants were already piling out.
He was circling the site low, looking to put his Pave Hawk down when things went hazy.
...
Oh God! No, no, no! Not again…Not that again!
He felt his mind going to pieces, a gibbering, quivering mess of protests and whimpers and he didn't know over what. It was disconcerting; he was deathly afraid of something-but what?
John felt the familiar warm glow wrapping around him again and he felt his mind slowly coming out of its hiding place. He felt he should be concerned about this too; but he strangely sort of wasn't.
...
The motion picture reel of his mind started up again. He knew he'd landed his bird just beside the downed one. It was all quite different now. His vision had sharpened to a point he could read the tags off the uniform of one soldier who was already crawling away from their downed chopper about 20 yards away. He could hear him muttering and cursing about life-suckers.
He could also see the two tall, pale figures that were standing on the top of the small ridge about 100 yards away in a southerly direction from them. He could also see the black and red slimy thing with pale protrusions; busily crawling towards the two figures.
It was as if a switch had flipped inside of his brain. Everything around him had come to a standstill and was swiftly dismissed as unimportant distractions.
And his mission came to the forefront of his mind in utmost clarity.
Seek & Destroy.
There were only three targets and only their utter and complete destruction mattered. It was his life's imperative; his reason for being and nothing else mattered until those abominations were wiped from the face of earth.
He felt himself moving as if in a powerful trance. His body was going through the quick motions of arming himself; stuffing his tactical vest with grenades and extra ammo and his holsters with extra hand guns. He was aware of barking quick orders to his charge; to stay put inside the chopper, just before grabbing his primary weapon, an M4 carbine and jumping out. Then he was taking off towards his targets.
He caught up to them quickly since they were not very keen on getting away. They were both focused on the creepy crawly thing edging towards them. He got within the closest range of fire and opened up with his primary weapon.
The memory providing the whole scenario got crazy then, because he was seeing things that were not supposed to happen in a normal reality. The thing moved at inhuman speeds. Instead of running away or even dropping dead after being riddled with bullets, it came towards him, with its hand raised as if to slap him.
John remembered discarding his carbine without bothering to reload and strangely enough his hand went to his K-bar. He remembered the agonizing pain that enveloped his head at that moment too; as if something was drilling into his brain trying to get a hold of him. His body moved of its own accord, brandishing the knife and gracefully sidestepping the oncoming nightmare with its pale, tall, slimy figure and long, white hair. While his mind and brain tangled with the telepathic assault, his newly improved eyesight noted the strange anatomy of his enemy with weak points somehow highlighted for him. He remembered the squelching sound it made when his knife connected with the protruding soft gill like sack on the neck of the thing. It let out a scream he was sure that was beyond the normal human hearing decibel range; but he heard nonetheless. His right hand had already found its way to his hand gun which was strapped to his thigh and was shooting the raised hand of the thing on the palm, with a sure knowledge that it would be the kill shot.
The pain in his head got bad then, dropping him to his knees. The female nightmare was standing in front of him hissing through its wicked rows of pointy teeth. It was sending a nasty fishy breath right on his face that made him want to projectile vomit at it.
He clenched his teeth and swallowed hard. The female was more shocked than angry at this mere little human managing to kill her mate. And even more shocked that she couldn't break through into his empty little mind.
"Who are you, little human? Why don't you let me into your little mind? Let me see what you are, while I feed on your feisty little body." She had her long, thin, clawed fingers wrapped around his neck like a vise.
"John Sheppard, US Air Force. Can't say it's a pleasure though, you kind of stink." John managed to hiss through gritted teeth.
"OPEN YOUR MIND"
She bellowed into his mind, squeezing his already abused throat accompanied by what felt like a thousand sharp pikes directly driven into his brain. John let out a scream as his mind fought the onslaught. He saw himself through the haze of pain picturing a shimmering blue shield around his mind against the assault that rained on him. And he willed it to endure with all his might. And the moment he felt the shield starting to wobble, he pushed it back with everything he had, along with all those mental pikes. He didn't know how he had known to do what he did or how he actually managed to pull it off, but it worked.
The thing let out a scream of its own with its hands clutching at its head and John reacted. He launched himself at it from his kneeling position and his knife found its mark. He dragged the blade across its neck, halfway decapitating it. Then he followed the falling body down to the ground; caught the palm of its' right hand with that weird gaping opening and drove his knife right through it to the ground. The female released another final scream before she stopped moving altogether.
Then he finally moved his focus onto the thing that was busy crawling towards the two aliens. Yeah, those things were not products of this planet; John was sure of it. Fair enough they looked humanoid. But they were too thin and too freakishly tall, and the long white hair had a weird, milky-slimy looking shine to it. The features on the faces were all wrong in the placement as well. Cat-like eyes with gleaming yellow pupils that were too wide spread and the nostrils were too flat, and the mouths full of rows and rows of pointy teeth that stank to high heaven. Yep. Definitely not human. Add to it this creepy thing that was busily crawling towards John or more likely its' dead parents? He felt like he had been transported in to a different universe.
Without much conscious thought, he emptied the clip in his hand gun into the crawling mess and watched it explode into a thousand tiny, fleshy, bloody pieces with detachment. And with that, he felt the strange awareness that held him captive and his senses overly sharpened, slowly drifting away into the deep confines of his mind again.
He felt consciousness waving in and out as he struggled to remain upright. He had to fight the urge to lay down next to the horrors he had just killed. Adrenaline and whatever extra boost his body had been riding had gone down to zero. The killer headache he was sporting felt like his brain was trying to eject through his ears and nose. Absently wiping his face, he noted that he had a nose bleed as well.
His mind was trying to tell him about a downed Black Hawk in bits and pieces while his weary body was clumsily dragging its' way back to where he landed. He could hardly recall how he made it back and how he ended up meeting the not-so-welcoming committee of four pissed-off SEALs. He remembered the relief at realizing that he actually knew one of them. Before that relief had time to settle, he was roughly being dragged, efficiently disarmed and tied up. And the supposedly friendly face of one Steve McGarrett was thrust close to his, screaming at him for leaving his people behind.
His exhausted mind was making a valiant effort trying to understand the accusations and alarming amount of fire now consuming the two Hawks, but was failing miserably. He hadn't even registered any explosions.
He remembered giving up coherent thought just before he was hauled into the back of a Humvee.
...
John knew that all this had come to pass some time ago and he was sort of reviewing the whole thing from a safe and comfortable place, though he didn't know exactly where. He had a feeling that this was serving some sort of an educational purpose; how to fight this particular nightmare version of bad guys and remember how to resist their apparently evil telepathic powers. John was able to appreciate the whole thing in an academic sort of way thanks to the comfortable and companionable presence that was still surrounding him in a warm cocoon. It was keeping the pain away as well. The pain he knew that was lurking there at the edge, courtesy of the hellish five or so days he spent at the base under torture.
Yeah, those clowns had shown up before his ass hit the door of his prison cell on the way in. He suspected a classified branch of military or maybe even the Firm. They had started friendly enough in the beginning, and steadily gone downhill from there, resorting to outright torture when John had not being forthcoming enough. Their questions were too canny and pointed, as if they knew a whole lot about the crazy, evil, stinky aliens. And John, to his own detriment, had a very strong feeling, almost a compulsion not to reveal anything of what happened. After what he survived, he had a healthy respect for whatever it was, that had awakened in him. So he kept giving them the name, rank and serial number routine until they lost patience with him.
Now here he was, wherever he was. But he knew without a shred of doubt that he was wanted, even needed here. He was welcome here, in fact he was home; the warmth insisted. It was a nice feeling, John decided. Not something he'd had even at home before he left to join the Air Force to his father's great displeasure. So he allowed himself to burrow into the offered comfort and drift away for a while, trusting that he would be brought back when it was time.
Central Command
Terra Atlantus
Antarctica
Carson was annoyed. Make that supremely annoyed. Why couldn't the impatient bugger wait for a couple more days? He had already been waiting for just over twelve days hadn't he? What difference one or two more days could possibly make?
Oh, but no, the great Dr. Rodney McKay, Ph.D Ph.D had decided today was the day! The Chair absolutely had to be calibrated right now or the end was nigh! Honestly, the scientist was an outright prima donna drama queen when he had to have his way. He had stormed into the infirmary, loudly insisting the Major be immediately released so that he could sit in the Chair. They needed a system wide calibration RIGHT NOW because the power readings he was getting were not right.
The poor lad had gone bug-eyed at the scientist-shaped tornado glaring down at him, and shot a pleading look at Carson to save him.
The Major had been transferred to a bed at the infirmary during the night, when the stasis pod had finally seen fit to release its charge. They had him hooked to an IV and a monitor as a precaution. Carson had been relieved to see what the pod monitor had been reporting was true. The lad was as healthy as a male of his late twenties could be, and a quick scan had shown that all the broken bones had been healed as well; including the not quite healed one according to his medical file, had happened a month ago during training.
The lad had continued his peaceful slumber through the rest of the night until an hour ago. He had woken up to a nurse who was checking his temperature, given a pleasant and somewhat sheepish smile and asked for some breakfast. Carson had sent away the nurse for the requested meal and started to ask some questions about how he was feeling when Rodney barged in.
It was either serving up the Major to the Unholy Force that was McKay or sacrificing himself, and Carson was fiercely protective of his patients. That was how he had found himself reluctantly following the head scientist towards the dreaded Chair. Because Carson knew despite all the drama Rodney managed to throw at everybody, the man must have a valid reason to be demanding a system check immediately and it most probably was that important.
….
They had found out about this particular Outpost only about a year ago, when the Goa'uld System Lord Anubis had this bright idea to bring a fleet to try to conquer the earth. General O'Neill, who had a head full of Ancient database accidentally downloaded inside his head around about that time, managed to find this place. After a couple of minor miracles involving engineering and transportation rings, they had unearthed the Outpost enough for the Colonel to go in and activate the defenses. Those defenses had put a stop to that battle. Then the whole project around the place was born; to explore and discover everything they could about it. But the structure and its worldly possessions had been somewhat reluctant in giving away their secrets.
The Terra Atlantus, according to Dr. Daniel Jackson- or the Ancient Defense Outpost according to everybody else, was an underground hexagonal structure, roughly the size of two football stadiums the best they could tell. Some of it was still covered in ancient ice and they were still discovering and excavating its outer reaches. What they had discovered and made viable for human occupation, was a sturdy structure made of a copper colored metal alloy that was decidedly alien. The hidden light fixtures were bathing the interior in soft pale blue glow where they hadn't installed fluorescent lights that were more suitable for their human sensibilities. There were habitable complexes surrounding the centre of the building that came outfitted with their own amenities such as attached bathrooms, sleeping areas and in some cases small kitchenettes. All they had to do was replace the Ancient versions of millennia old beds and linen and it was ready to be moved into by the happy band of scientists and their military minders. The centre of the building that had served as the command center in the past was now alive and reinforced with equal numbers of modern day screens, laptops, computers, power generators, data depositories and whatnot attached to each and every Ancient gadget that was there in the first place. They even had several platforms set up to take apart whatever fancy Ancient tidbit caught their eye.
….
Carson noted that Dr. Grodin was enthusiastically pawing away at what looked like a mechanical version of a squid, while Dr. Sommers was flitting around taking photos and making increasingly inappropriate noises. She was crooning at it for heaven's sake! He also noted the young marine- Lt. Ford if Carson recalled correctly- keeping a wary eye on the thing as if it might come alive at some point to eat them. Knowing and having seen the things throughout the years since the discovery of the dreadful Stargate, Carson couldn't blame him.
Of course occupying the place of pride, elevated on its own grand, foot-and a-half high platform complete with its own hidden light source, bathing it in the soft shimmering blue, was the Control chair of the Outpost. That was the point where everything in the place was connected to and could be controlled from; the central nervous system, the Brain of Terra Atlantus. The huge gun metal gray chair with its distinctly alien swirls and curls of carved design looked like a throne. It always rested in an upright position and went into an incline and its vein-like design was flooded with luminescent blue when it was activated.
Carson hated the thing with a passion. It always gave him a headache when he had to keep his head positioned at the uncomfortable headrest that emitted a buzzing hum, whenever he had to try to activate it. It was unpleasant in the extreme and made it hard to concentrate on whatever Rodney was harping at him to do at any given time. And those pads filled with gel-like substance on the armrests where he had to rest his palms gave him a squishy feeling. They also made his palms itch like crazy.
He sat on it with a sigh of resignation. Rodney made his way to the nearest monitor that was blinking at him with technical jargon that made no sense to Carson.
"Activate the Chair Carson-Sometime today would be good," McKay snapped at him without turning from his perusal of the scrolling data the monitor had on it.
"Aye Rodney, I'm trying, give me a minute."
Carson closed his eyes and concentrated. Or he tried his best. He thought of his happy place in Scotland, the nice green meadow covered in soft sunlight instead of the cold hard alien metal that was digging into his bum in silent protest.
After what felt like hours but was mere minutes in reality, the Chair gave an almost angry buzzing noise and went into a half-hearted incline. A soft blue light came on surrounding the chair reluctantly, mimicking its occupant.
"Yeah that's right. Now, think about the power management and ask it to run a diagnostic starting from the left wing."
When nothing happened, Rodney abandoned the display he was intent on and came closer to the doctor.
"Come on Carson, concentrate. I have a bad feeling about this and we need to see what is going on. You know this whole place went into a tizzy before we brought that flyboy in. We need to find out if things have gone back to their normal settings. So we need your head in the game Carson, chop chop."
'Of course, Rodney being his uniquely helpful self is not really helping my concentration in the least.' The doctor thought sarcastically.
He briefly wondered if Major Sheppard had managed to eat his breakfast. Big mistake! His own stomach chose that moment to remind him loudly that he hadn't eaten yet either.
The monitor attached to the Chair detected a brief flare of power but failed to pinpoint the location it was sent to. It pinged in alarm and Rodney rushed back to the screen with a muttered oath.
"Okay. No, no, no, no… that is not good-Carson what was that? What did you just think at it now?"
"That I was hungry Rodney-I can't think about power management when I'm hungry," Carson snapped back exasperatedly at the scientist whose mutterings were increasing in velocity and sound, as he tried to pinpoint the source of the power surge.
The Chair chose that moment to suddenly go into full incline and half rotate. The soft blue glow emanating from it, brightened briefly. Carson let out a terrified squeak at the sudden movement, but wisely did nothing to move from his position.
Simultaneously, startled shouts and a short scream erupted from the platform Doctors Gordin and Sommers were working on. Before anyone could even begin to react, the squid they were working on burst into a bright golden flare and took off in a blink. It went horizontal for a tenth of a second before re-orienting and taking off in a straight vertical line, like the suddenly online guided missile it was. It was through the roof and out of their sight in less than two seconds. Then the hidden door on the roof that had cycled open to let the thing out, swished closed; raining down ice and snow that had come loose at the heated departure of the missile. Impromptu cold showers broke everyone from their frozen states into action.
Rodney cursed loudly as he ran to the nearest emergency alarm and slammed it on. Lt. Ford ran to the telephone near the wall that had the direct line to McMurdo to let them know that there was an airborne bogey with an unknown payload now roaming the sky. Drs. Elizabeth Weir and Daniel Jackson came running towards the Chair to see what was going on.
"Ah Elizabeth, talk to him. He just fired an Ancient equivalent of a missile to god knows where. You need to get him to shut it down NOW!" Rodney wailed.
"Sir we have a problem. McMurdo tells me a chopper just took off and on its way here. They are may be 15 minutes out. It's General O'Neill's transport; he is making an unscheduled visit." Pale-faced Lieutenant Ford contributed to the brewing disaster.
"Ah McKay, it took off before we disconnected the power source. I'm 95% sure it's got a miniature ZPM onboard powering it. I don't know if we can shut it off from the Chair now that it's taken off," Dr. Grodin carried the apocalyptic football towards the home stretch.
Inside a Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk
En route to Defense Outpost
Antarctica
"Sir, we just got an emergency update from the Outpost. They have an unauthorized missile launch. Destination unknown. We are advised to RTB." The somewhat agitated pilot of the Black Hawk informed General O'Neill who was looking outside from his window.
"It's too late for that now I think, Richardson, We are going to have to duke it out.'" The General observed mildly as he looked at the ominous trail of smoke that was rapidly closing in on them from a distance.
"Try to zigzag and launch some countermeasures. And try to evade it enough so we could land this bird and pray it will just ignore us." He felt obliged to backseat pilot, since the on duty pilot was looking increasingly worried and a bit lost.
O'Neill idly wondered if this was the first time this kid saw any live action.
'Just my luck', he had time to wonder, 'I'm going to die with a rookie on his first mission in this god forsaken frozen hellhole.'
'Carter had better fry the asshole who is murdering me today.' Thought the General in resigned apathy as he watched the smoke trail getting closer and closer.