Chapter Four: Abandoned

-1-

When the shaking subsided, McKay bit his lip and shifted the few feet to a bulge in the outcrop and looked out. Settling stones continued to fall around him and a narrow gravel stream rushed past the entrance like a minor avalanche. As it leveled off, he realized the ledge that had been there before was now fractured, and Sheppard was missing. Feeling faint, he pressed himself to the outcrop to catch his breath, then leaned out to see Gage appear over the edge of the ravine, haul himself up and begin the hunt, headed toward him. Rodney managed to rise, supported against the rock, but he was slow, shrinking away as Gage strode round the corner, heaved him straight up and braced him on the wall.

McKay's heels came up on the rock. He thought he would pass out. "Murderer," he said. "You're dead."

"No thanks to you." Gage replied in the same raspy voice Sheppard had spoken in, the voice of nano-life. He looked ten years younger, his blue irises teaming with golden lights. "Where are the others?"

"Others?" McKay winced. The cave was going gray. He was certain if he did pass out that he'd never wake up.

Gage's voice was his own this time: "They want to annihilate them."

"To whom...am I speaking?"

"These mini-gadgets in me are cramped," he said. "They want to come out and play. Tell us."

McKay's eye twitched. "Would I know that? The others, they're...independent."

"Where is the Architect?"

"Never met him," McKay said.

"They lied to you."

McKay wasn't sure which had spoken, Gage or the hostile 'bots. "I don't know what you want."

"Come on, tell and they'll help you. Hot Shot can't, he's in his grave. He left you to die, he wasn't gonna' come back."

"Now you're lying," McKay said. His fist pushed weakly against Gage's chest.

Gage's eyes flickered and he grasped him tighter, smacked him against the rock. McKay blacked out, returned to greater pain and the odor of wet soil over Gage's clothing.

"You want to live?" Gage said.

McKay couldn't speak.

"We say," he repeated. "You want to live?"

"I want...shove it." McKay swallowed. Gage was bluffing about Sheppard; he had to be.

"You know what we can do? We can fix you, or squeeze those oozing holes in your gut from inside and out and keep you on alert while we do it. We can spread an infection in a minute, cram your heart until it explodes, then rip out your lungs cell by cell. Or the method I'd choose, in chunks. We guarantee you'll enjoy every moment."

"We were guided," Mckay said. His foot slipped from under him and Gage slammed him up again. "Can't...can't tell you anything."

"Let's go," said Gage. He forced him forward by the neck. They'd gone a short distance when Gage grew impatient, frustrated with Rodney's inability to walk faster.

Turning a corner, McKay crumpled against the wall. "Where're you taking me?" he said.

"Keep going." He cuffed him on the head.

McKay hit the ground, clutching his side. "I'm bleeding to death, genius, in case you couldn't tell."

"Get up!"

"Impossible," McKay said. "Don't grasp much, do you?"

Gage dropped, seized McKay's shin and tucked it under an arm, began to untie his bootlace.

"Don't touch me," he said, too drained to resist.

Finishing, Gage tested the lace with a firm jerk. He pushed Rodney to his side, grabbed his wrists. McKay cried out and in the slips of a few knots, his hands were tied behind him.

McKay struggled to stay lucid. "Let me go," he said. "I couldn't possibly be of any use to you."

"Shut up," said Gage, and a puff of golden 'bots emerged from his lips, the size of a baseball. He gathered up McKay's shirt and they dove down, lengthening into a line. They entered the wound.

A burn ignited from the bullet hole, spreading into McKay's lower back and ribs. He gasped. They would attack him from within, inflaming nerves in their path, kill him gradually. "No," he said. "It's no use."

-2-

Sheppard coughed, shook dirt clods from his head and rubbed his eyes, which only made things worse. There was sand on his tongue. His throat was scratchy. He extracted himself from the rubble, shoving rocks with his feet. No busted bones. He'd have bruises everywhere but he'd lived, playing possum for the benefit of Gage, who'd survived the rock fall. After the dust had settled, he'd heard Gage's footsteps crunching near, then away, and saw him climb up.

McKay-he had to get back to him. Unless Rodney had managed to run away and find another tunnel to hide in, Gage would have gotten to him first. The bleeding had been steady, not a gusher, which in one sense was good. Thing was, Gage didn't care about Rodney, dead or alive.

Sheppard got up on one knee, carefully rose, aching and spotted with abrasions, and scrutinized the territory. The Lumi-fog had abandoned them. It didn't matter they'd accessed his tactical knowledge; they weren't going to use it to their advantage. He'd have to engage his own defenses, and get out of the ravine as fast as possible.

Going to the Jumper, he stuck his head in and peered inside, seeking supplies, weapons. The area behind the pilot's seat was buried and emergency lights flickered, fading. The vehicle shifted and he removed his hands from the hatch and waited until the rubble inside settled. Getting trapped was not on his agenda.

On hands and knees, he crawled in over the rubble and dug around tenderly, discovered a sidearm and his jacket, no extra ammo. Gage had probably managed to locate his own weapon. The cavern trembled and the Jumper began to wobble. As it rolled, dirt poured on to his shoulders. He scrambled out, wondering if Gage had retained more than one gun.

Outside, he put on his jacket and walked around the rockpile, propped the sidearm into his waistband. He found a shallower place to start, fighting for a foothold. The soil, too crumbly to support him, disintegrated and he slipped against it. Moving farther away, he tested another spot with luck.

Once at the top, he checked for Gage before anchoring an elbow and drawing himself up. He jumped to his feet, taking cover behind the wall, out of site from the passageway opening. He listened, making light steps. It was quiet. The corner where he'd left McKay was sprinkled with blood, leading away. His stomach flip-flopped. There were two sets of footprints, one messy, the second definite. The walls glowed softly where someone had touched, smeared with red fingerprints. They hadn't been gone long.

He followed, activating the nanolight enough to see the trail of drops and prints. If the 'bots had the same reparative abilities as the Lumi-fog, they would not waste their energy healing McKay, occupying him long enough to torture him, use him as they pleased. Sheppard chased off the thought; he didn't want to speculate on Rodney's fate. But he himself had been under the influence of nanites twice and knew what they were capable of-and those had been the friendly ones.