Part Eight

Sheppard set the Puddle Jumper down carefully. It was disconcerting to look out into the docking bay of the hiveship and see an empty space when the Jumper's display screen clearly showed the presence of the other Jumper.

"Ford, Teyla, you're with me," he ordered, clipping his P-90 to his vest. "Beckett, Markham, I want you to stay here."

Carson opened his mouth to argue but John cut him off. "You can't help Rodney if the Wraith catch you. We'll find him and bring him back." He turned to the young soldier, "Check over the other Jumper, Markham. We'll probably need to leave in a hurry, and I want it ready to go. If anything happens to us, I want you and Beckett to take the Jumpers back to Atlantis, and tell Weir not to try another rescue."

Turning to Ford and Teyla, he flicked the safety off his weapon. "Let's go find Rodney," he said grimly.


The first Wraith he'd come across was one of the big, muscled fellows with the mask that reminded Rodney of the guy in the hockey mask in one of those interminable series of horror flicks. It had been so startled to find a human simply strolling through the hiveship that Rodney had been able to just walk right up and grab its arm. The experience wasn't quite as excruciatingly painful as the first time, but still left him shaking and gasping for breath. The energy he'd drawn from the Wraith wasn't warm and comforting like Zelenka's or Carson's. It was horribly cold, permeating his bones with a core of ice.

The second Wraith snarled when it saw him and lunged at him. He caught its hand and was surprised that draining it was easier, less painful, though no less unpleasant. The corpse was intact this time, a mummified husk. Through the increasing fog in his mind, Rodney wondered briefly if perhaps it was sturdier than the Wraith on Pataskala, or older. Or maybe it was something he himself had done differently.

He abruptly pushed the thought to the back of his mind. The Wraith was dead, that was the important thing, and it was time for Rodney to continue his task.

Four Wraith corpses later, he was beyond cold or sick. A brittle calm had settled over him, allowing his mind to drift peacefully without thought or memory. The process was still physically painful, but was beginning to get lost in the influx of energy that buzzed in his muscles and whispered in his ears.

When he bumped into two Wraith at once, he let one grab him while the other placed its feeding hand on his chest. He drained both of them at once and nearly passed out from the overwhelming rush of power. He grabbed the next Wraith he encountered and tossed it down the corridor with a hideous ease fueled by a Wraith-augmented adrenaline rush.

The dawning look of fear on its face as Rodney advanced spawned a fiery worm of bitter satisfaction in him, and for the first time he allowed himself to enjoy the life he pulled from it, watching its death eagerly.

When he was done he went in search of more prey.


Sheppard sped silently through the winding halls of the hiveship, Ford and Teyla close behind. There didn't seem to be many Wraith on board, and he guessed that most of its occupants were in the cloud of Darts that accompanied the huge ship.

The life signs detector helped them avoid those Wraith who remained on the hiveship, but couldn't tell them which little dot on the screen was Rodney.

Before long, they were trying to dodge groups of Wraith who were clearly searching for something – in all likelihood, Rodney McKay. When they came across the first corpse, sprawled against the wall and falling into dust, John felt his stomach tighten with anxiety. He was beginning almost to dread finding his friend. Just the fact that Rodney had boarded the hiveship indicated that the scientist's usually extremely healthy sense of self-preservation had been entirely subsumed by some other, stronger urge. Whatever that urge was, it couldn't be pleasant, especially since it now seemed that Rodney was a one-man Wraith-killing machine.

He glanced at the LSD again and swore softly. They were caught between two advancing parties of Wraith, with no way to dodge or hide from them that he could see. He signaled quickly to Ford and Teyla: three in front, four behind.

The chatter of their P-90's broke the eerie silence of the hiveship and momentarily took down the smaller group, giving Sheppard's team the opportunity to slip around them, only to run into two more masked Wraith. Ford managed to get a few blows in before he was flung against a wall. The newcomers had stunners, which proved difficult to use as anything but clubs in close quarters. They were effective enough when a Wraith swung the weapon at Ford's head as he tried to stand. The lieutenant went down without a sound.

Whirling and dodging with incredible swiftness, Teyla lasted a little longer. She thrust her gun into the face of the Wraith attacking her and pulled the trigger. Its head burst apart from the force of the bullets, but its body continued to move, causing the Athosian to stumble back into the waiting arms of another Wraith.

Sheppard found himself held at arms length by a tall Wraith, his feet dangling inches off the floor. His P-90 was out of ammo, so he pulled his Beretta out of the thigh holster and emptied it into the Wraith's chest. It staggered back, but didn't let go. He met its malevolent stare, trying not to flinch as it raised its other hand to his chest.

It dropped him without warning. He landed awkwardly and lost his balance, ending up sprawled on the floor staring up at the Wraith as it seemed to collapse in on itself. It fell towards him and he scrambled out of the way.

Behind it stood his truant scientist, gazing hollow-eyed down at him.

"You're dead," his voice was brittle as glass as his eyes wandered to Teyla and Ford, "you're all dead."

A Wraith moved toward him. Rodney let it grab him and pressed a hand almost gently to its face. A moment later all that was left was a desiccated mummy.

"I think the younger ones disintegrate faster," he told John conversationally. "Although it's hard to tell how old a Wraith is. I'm just speculating here."

Two more Wraith went down under Rodney's hands. They were masked and hugely muscled, but their blows were completely ineffective on him. The bodies were no more than dust and limp clothing.

The Wraith holding Teyla threw her at the scientist. He stepped aside making no effort to catch her, and before Sheppard could move to her side the Wraith had been reduced to a dry corpse.

"See? It stands to reason that the muscle – the drones – are probably younger. Maybe their molecular structure is less stable. Remember how hard it was to kill that ten-thousand-year-old Wraith? The one that got Abrams and…" His voice trailed off. The pale, expressionless face, dominated by blazing eyes, seemed to really see John for the first time.

"I guess I've really lost it now. I don't think Wraith illusions are quite this detailed. That's okay, though. I wouldn't mind a little company, even if it's imaginary. This place is pretty creepy."

Another Wraith went down under McKay's gentle fingers.

"Rodney,' John whispered, horrified, then found his voice. "Rodney, we're not dead."

"Yes, you are. You're dead. Everyone is dead. Except me." There were only three Wraith left. One backhanded Rodney across the face, but he didn't seem to feel it. He grabbed it by the throat and it disintegrated while he reached out for another one. It dodged his grasp and John was treated to the sight of two panic-stricken Wraith high-tailing it down the corridor to escape the avenging Canadian who was cutting a swathe through their ranks.

Rodney dropped the husk in his hand and turned back to Sheppard with a sad, lopsided smile.

"I'm invulnerable," he told John.