CHAPTER NINETEEN: POT SHOTS
Sheppard sat up straight, his jaw dropping as the lights suddenly came back on, the crystals in the console started flashing all of their many colors, and a white nimbus formed once again around the chair.
"Ohhhhh crap," he hissed, grabbing McKay's unresponsive wrist and arm without thinking, as if he could drag him out of harm's way.
The white glow grew and expanded, and the major braced himself, shutting his eyes as the light enveloped him and McKay...and passed over them. Every skin cell felt like it was on fire as he gasped and turned his head, watching as the white light shifted across the rest of the room away from them.
It was searching, Sheppard realized, for McKay. But it could not find him—because McKay was dead. His fingers gripped the wrist tighter.
And felt a pulse. He looked down, his eyes widening slightly. Wait a minute....
McKay was breathing. It was coming quickly and unevenly, but he was still breathing. The Weapon must have shocked his system enough to get his lungs and heart working again, bringing the doctor back to life. Thankfully, the thing hadn't paused long enough to notice.
Well, that's irony for you, the major almost smiled.
Sheppard got up on one knee, twisting to watch the white light as it scanned through the rest of the black room, and then crossed over to the white half, to continue its circuit.
Finally, it returned to the chair.
Sheppard gathered Rodney up in his arms, planning to pull him as far away from that thing as possible. As he watched, the glow started to swell again, but in intensity, not size.
"Sir," Ford's voice said over the radio, "Sir, can you hear me? You were cut off. Stackhouse just said he saw another burst of light, and that you and McKay are now off his sensors again. What's going on? Are you okay?"
"Umm, that remains to be seen, lieutenant," the major replied, squinting now at the brightness. "On what this thing is...well...doing."
"Thing, sir?"
"The Weapon. Um, turns out...it's sort of alive." And burning his corneas! He raised his free to block the bulk of the light, turning his eyes away, unconsciously drawing McKay closer to protect him. He could feel the edges of the Weapon now, pins and needles sparking all up and down his body.
There was a pause, then, "Alive, sir?"
"Yeah. And...oh...it's...is anyone still inside the dome, lieutenant?"
"No sir."
"Good. Because...yup, I think its going to fire at something." A sudden horrible thought occurred to him, and he grabbed the radio in his urgency as he finally closed his eyes against the brightness, "Stackhouse! Get the Jumper out of here! NOW!"
Almost simultaneously, the White Light burst out of the room, firing straight up.
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"SHIT!" Stackhouse screamed, getting Sheppard's warning just in time as the Weapon's blast aimed straight for the hovering ship. Speed and a little help from Greene pirouetted the somewhat unwieldy Jumper 360 degrees, sending it spinning around like a car skidding on ice away from the dome. The White Light impacted with the top of the Illusion over their heads, and dispersed.
"What the hell was that!" Stackhouse shouted, regaining his balance as the jumper trembled to a halt several hundred yards away.
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Before Sheppard could answer, the Weapon fired again.
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"Look out!" Tanner shouted, seeing the build-up of power on the jumper's display this time just before the second shot was fired. Stackhouse gunned the puddle jumper towards the opposite end of the Illusion, his grip on the controls as tight as he could make them. The second blast from the Weapon missed their tail by inches.
The third shot burst right in front of them, lighting up the Illusion wall, and it was only Greene's mental command for the ship to come full stop that saved them this time.
"Good brakes," Tanner exhaled, his hands braced against the console.
Stackhouse didn't stop, he just whipped the jumper around, then up, trying to climb out of the Illusion's walls before the Weapon fired again. The puddle jumper actually shuddered with the speed he was forcing out of it over such a short time.
They blew through the top of the Illusion just seconds before the fourth shot hit the edge of it. Greene's eyes widened as the readout displayed the Weapon's power dissolving in an explosion of white across the top of the false hill. Thank god it couldn't breach the Illusion's walls.
"0 to 600," Stackhouse sighed, leaning forward over the controls, as he let the ship slow down, "in a nanosecond. Good boy, Jumper one," he patted the console, "good boy."
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After the third shot, Sheppard put McKay down and jumped to his feet, lunging for the chair, not even noticing the frost-burn on his skin as he fell into it, closing his eyes as the Weapon wrapped itself around him like a blanket of dry ice.
He felt the fourth shot being fired at the Jumper, but however much mental exertion he tried to use to stop it, he couldn't make a connection.
"I'm here!" he shouted desperately at the room, "I'm in the damn chair! Come on!"
The Weapon geared up again to fire at something else now, and Sheppard could feel its anger...and its frustration at having missed the Jumper. He sensed it had never aimed by itself before. It was like a child with a submachine gun in its hands. It could fire, but it couldn't hit the broadside of a barn—but the damage it could wreak on the rest of the farm was unimaginable.
"Stop taking pot shots," the major hissed, opening his eyes and watching as the whole city of Deucalion appeared in a projection above his head—the Weapon was looking for a new target. "I'm here, damn it! Talk to me!"
And suddenly, it did.
It swept through him, and he gasped, his eyes widening at the sensation of having the Weapon's single-minded thoughts impress upon his brain.
Who are you? Where is the guide? I have not fired six times. I must fire six times, or take the one who was guiding me if he is dead. Who are you? Where is the guide. I have not fired six times. I must fire six times, or take the one who was guiding me if he is dead. Who are you? Where is the guide? I have not fired six times. I must fire—
"Okay!" Sheppard gasped at the broken record in his mind, "I get it. Stop repeating yourself."
Who are you?
"John Sheppard. And look—"
Where is the guide? Where is Doctor Rodney McKay?
"He's not here. I am. Look, you said—"
I have not fired six times. I must fire—
"Like hell you haven't fired six times! I counted four more shots just then! That's a total of nine!"
But I missed. I need the guide. I must fire six times or take the one—
"Listen to me! You can't have him. You just have me."
I can not start over yet; I cannot yet reset. I must fire six times or take—
"I'm not asking you to start over, damn it. I'm asking to stop! The Wraith are gone. There is nothing to fire at!"
I must fire six times or take the one—
"Okay, okay, I said I got it! Stop telling me that." He panted for a breath, feeling the same rib crushing pressure that Rodney had felt. He licked his dry lips, knowing innately that the Weapon was dehydrating him just as it had done the scientist. He had to think of something.
"Look, I'll make you a deal. Let me guide you. Fire the sixth shot and—"
No. It must be the guide. It must be Doctor Rodney McKay. You can not take his place. That is not the way. I must fire six times or take—
"Not the way?" Sheppard's voice rose in pitch on the last word. "You just fired four times on your own! Are you telling me that's the normal way of things?"
No response. Sheppard blinked rapidly, trying to stop his now watering eyes from actually sending tears down his face.
"Still there?" he asked after a moment. He knew it was—it was still weighing on him—but it seemed arrested somehow.
No...the way has changed. I was shut down before the sixth shot was fired. The guide disappeared before he could be absorbed. The way is not the way anymore.
"Exactly! So how about we—"
Then there is nothing to stop me. I can destroy everything.
"Woah, woah, woah! Hold on there. Why?"
That is what I do.
"No! No it's not! What you do is destroy Wraith ships. You don't destroy anything else."
That is what the guide limited me to; I no longer have such limitations. I destroy, that is all.
"No, that is not all, damn it! I refuse to believe that. You can obviously think for yourself, which means you can do more than just destroy! And, look, even if that were the case, then why are you talking to me? Why try to convince me?"
Again, silence answered him. Sheppard swallowed. He wished Beckett could have developed a Weir gene as well as the ATA gene he gave McKay. He could use her skills right now. He honestly had no idea if he was making headway, or making things worse.
Of course, could they actually get worse?
You're right. I can kill you as well.
Oh for the love of....Why the hell did he think things like that without any wood around to knock on?
But I don't want to.
"Oh?" It came out as a bit of a squeak. Sheppard really had no better answer than that.
I have never talked to anyone before.
The major's eyebrows lifted, "Really?"
I have only been guided.
"Oh," he took in a breath. The Weapon seemed less oppressive now. He could work his lungs a little better.
I like this new way. I like talking. I want to keep talking.
"Ha!" Sheppard forced a smile, "Then you don't just want to destroy, then, do you? Because if you destroy this city, and if you kill me right now, there will be no one to talk to. You get me?"
Another pause. This time, it was longer than before. Sheppard licked again at his dry lips. They began to sting.
"Hello?"
Will you stay if I don't fire again?
"Ah, no, I won't. But others will come over time. And there's that hologrammy thing. You could talk to it, if it were here."
I want you to stay.
"Yes, well, that's not going to happen."
There was another pause.
I don't want to kill you.
"Well, that feeling's mutual."
Another long pause. Sheppard tried to shift on the chair, and, amazingly, the Weapon let up more of the pressure, allowing him to do so.
I will make you a deal.
"Uh...what kind of deal?"
I will fire the sixth shot, and you will help me. Then I will let you go, and I will go back to sleep. But you must tell whoever next sits in this chair to talk to me. To...treat me as if I am....
"Alive?"
Again silence. Then, after a moment.
I am alive.
"Yes, you most certainly are." Sheppard grimaced, wondering if the faint echo of the hologram's voice in his ear mockingly saying "I told you so," was just in his mind.
It really hadn't lied to him. Go figure. His respect for the machinery of Deucalion climbed another notch. Shame there were also people here.
"You have a deal," he agreed.
Then pick the target.
Sheppard frowned for a second...before a particularly evil smile graced his lips.
He tapped his radio.
"Ford?"
"Sir?" the lieutenant's worried voice echoed back at him. "What's going on! The Jumper nearly—"
"I know. Listen, tell the Governor to evacuate the people out of her office." Sheppard's smile grew, "She has five minutes."
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TBC
A/N – how in the world did this story get this long? I just saw the page count on the full story and nearly choked. Sorry guys! It's almost over, really! And aaeryn—thanks for the idea!