(And I made it home! Ask and ye shall receive! LOL! Thank you all so very much!)

FAILURE TO COMMUNICATE

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: FACING DOWN THE DEVIL

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With a nod from their captain, one of the younger guards jumped down and approached the still, blue clad figure lying on the ground. Resting a hand on the cold head, he studied the pale, almost peaceful face for a moment. Then he pushed back the blanket and touched the neck, brow furrowing a little when he felt the faintest flutter of a heartbeat. They'd thought he was dead. The red leaf that had caught on the blanket fell off onto the ground.

"What's the story, Meeks?" the captain asked, sounding a little bored.

"Alive, sir," the young guard said, resting back on his haunches, fingers tingling a little from the coldness of the off-worlder's skin. He rubbed his hands together to warm them back up. "But not for much longer. He'll die if he doesn't get help."

The captain frowned, then dismounted himself and walked over to stand over the unconscious man.

After a moment, he sighed and looked behind him at a different member of his troop. "Carr, head back to the Stargate, see if the guards there have a cart we can borrow. Tell them we found one of the off-worlders…dead. Probably not worth it to take him to the Citadel. We'll take him to the Gate, store him there until the guard change, then, if they really want him, someone can cart the body back to Garillion."

Meeks looked up at his captain, "But…sir, he's not dead yet."

His CO looked back at him, "Yes he is, Meeks. I don't particularly want to drag him fifty miles back to Garillion right now on the off chance he might survive the trip, do you?"

Meeks stared at him a moment longer then, slowly, shook his head, looking down again at the soft features of the man.

When the captain turned away again, to send Carr off to the Gate, Meeks reached down and slowly tucked the blanket up back over the poor off-worlder's head, shifting him a little. As he did so, the radio fell out of McKay's hand and rolled a little down the slight incline to stop at Meeks' feet.

The young guard frowned, lifting it up. He studied it for a second, then turned to his captain.

"Sir," he said, holding up the radio, "I think this may be a transmission device. If you look, it says 'talk' next to the button."

The captain arched an eyebrow and took the radio. After a moment, he pressed the button.

"Hello?" he called, "Anyone there?"

When no one answered immediately, the captain frowned. He shook the device a little, then tried again. "Hello? Is anyone reading my transmission?"

Again, nothing but static.

The captain shrugged and tossed the radio back on the ground by the unconscious Doctor McKay.

"Useless," he grumbled, not hiding his disappointment.

"Not if the people on the other end of the line don't wish to talk to you," Meeks suggested, picking up the radio again. He looked up at the Captain, who was mounting his meener again. "If it's more of the escapees, I doubt they would answer." He played with the radio a bit, clicking the talk button a few times, interested when the green light stayed lit.

The captain grimaced, his lips screwing up in a strange twist, and then he shrugged. "Fine," he said, "We'll try again in a little while. Meanwhile," he looked past Meeks to the scientist on the ground, "finish him off and let's go."

Meeks flinched, his eyes widening as the radio fell back by his side. "What? Me?"

"You're the one on the ground."

"But," Meeks looked at McKay, then back at his captain, "Sir…I can't. Not in cold blood."

The captain heaved a deep sigh, then looked to the left and right, where the rest of his men were watching him. They all looked a little apprehensive, as if afraid he would ask them next. Finally, he rolled his eyes, and looked at Meeks again.

"I'm not asking you, Guardsman, I'm telling you. Kill him. Gunshot to the heart, head…doesn't matter. Just finish him off so we can be done with this business."

Meeks looked pained. "Sir? Please…."

"Now, Meeks. Or would you like to go home and explain to your father how you were discharged without pay just six weeks into service?"

Meeks winced, sighed, and looked at Doctor McKay again. The radio was moved to his left hand, and he pulled out the revolver strapped to his thigh with his right. With a shaking hand, he pulled back the safety and lifted it to point at the unconscious man.

He swallowed, "Please, sir," he whispered.

"Now, Meeks," the captain ordered again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Meeks dropped the radio like a hot poker. The voice, and its warning, had echoed clearly over the device, and he backed away from both it and McKay.

The captain hissed in annoyance and jumped down off his meener, reaching for the radio with a glare at the young guard. Lifting it up, he placed it to his lips.

"Who is this?" he demanded.

"Major Lorne, United States Air Force. Cease and desist your actions right now."

"Well," the captain sneered, looking around at the empty forest, "Major Lorne, I'm afraid you are a little out of your depth. My name is Captain Godfrey, and, if you are one of the escapees from the Citadel, I'll have you know that I have a full complement of men at my disposal, and I'm a crack shot. I'd reconsider how you talk to me, if I were you."

"No," Lorne replied, "I don't think I will. Drop your weapons and back away from him. Now."

Godfrey laughed, "Please! You think we are falling for this, Major?" He shook his head, "You're not even brave enough to face us!"

"I wouldn't be so sure, Godfrey," Lorne hissed. "Perhaps you should take a more careful look around."

The meeners had started to dance and move nervously, causing the guards to react similarly, or perhaps it was the other way around. Several turned their meeners around, trying to find the source of the possible threat. Meeks was now standing almost protectively over the man he'd been ordered to kill, pointing his weapon in the general direction of the woods in the direction of the road.

He was the first to see them.

Five men in dark clothing similar to that worn by the man at his feet appeared from out behind trees, carrying what looked like rapid fire machine guns. They were like ghosts, appearing almost from nowhere, and their expressions were fearless. They should have seen them coming, but they hadn't. Meeks whimpered a little, looking up at Godfrey.

By now, the captain and several others had seen them as well, and the meeners were placed in a position to face the oncoming threat. Rifles were raised.

Godfrey gave a dry smirk and raised the radio to his lips again. "Just five men, Major? Not much of a threat against near fifteen of us. You might be able to take some of us with those fancy weapons, but you can't possibly get all of us. If I were you, I'd give up now. We're trained guardsmen of King Stewart; we will not go down without a fight."

"And you, Captain," Major Lorne snapped back, "should probably look up."

Godfrey looked puzzled for a second, then, slowly, lifted his head. Jaws dropped among the collected guardsman as a massive, box-like ship appeared out of thin air pointing down at them…and what could only be weapon's pods opened on either side.

"Drop your weapons, Captain," Lorne ordered, staring down at the captain from the cockpit, "or be blown to pieces. Your choice."

Godfrey closed his jaw, and looked again at the five strange looking soldiers facing him down. He saw the anger in their eyes, and realized, a little late, that he might be out of his depth.

"Lower your weapons," he snarled at his men, shivering with his frustration at being out-maneuvered.

Behind him, Meeks stifled his sigh of relief.

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TBC...Yay! That's one! Now...what about the others? Oh, and fyi, I have finished writing the story. There are 29 chapters.