MORE THAN JUST PRETTY FACES
By TIPPER
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CHAPTER EIGHT: UP
The three very weary people soon lost interest in their surroundings, climbing more and more slowly up the long hall-like room.
It had obviously been a long cave once, probably carved by the same river that was now above ground, and the Ancients had taken advantage of its cool, hidden nature by creating one long endless room. Each "level" was about ten feet long, at the end of which were several steps between two ramps lifting them to the next level. No partitions or walls separated the levels, though the edge of the floor in each level was marked by a different shade of marble.
Legs began to burn, barely lifting, scraping along the cracked, stone flooring. The air was clammy, musty, and rank with mildew. The damp atmosphere was uncomfortable in the enclosed space, like climbing up through a poorly vented greenhouse. Their drying clothes began to chafe, denying them even the kindness of comfortable outfits.
Water dripped down the walls around them—for all that it looked like an Atlantian corridor, it was still a natural formation, with natural flaws. The river still leaked into this underground chamber, and it had formed substantial cracks in the walls. Several lights were no longer working, too damaged by the saturated surface.
The monotony of the climb was broken only by the handful of muffled explosions they heard. The first had occurred not too long after they started climbing, and they'd all looked around, confused. Then they realized—the energy creature. They were hearing Wraith darts exploding. It brought the briefest of smiles to all their faces.
About a third of the way up, part of one wall had caved in. Sheppard stopped, staring at the crumbled rock and the mess it had made of the Ancient work-station it had buried. The other two stopped as well, waiting as the colonel stepped forward and toed a very familiar looking containment device. It was identical to the one that had held the energy creature on Atlantis, except it was very clearly cracked.
"Well," he said, glancing at Teyla, "there's the answer to that."
"Is it the same?" Teyla asked, tilting her head.
"Yeah. For a moment," he shrugged, "I thought that it was the same energy creature, even though that isn't really possible, seeing as we gated that one far, far away from here. But, from the looks of it, the Ancients must have captured more than one." He kicked the damaged containment device. "I guess they were studying our new friend Blobby back there at this station."
"You've come across one of those energy creatures before?" Ronon asked, his voice a nasal drawl—the stuffy air was not clearly helping the man's bashed nose. Sheppard glanced askance at him, then remembered. Of course—Ronon didn't know. Quickly, he told the story of the creature that had nearly killed them when they first arrived in Atlantis, released by Jinto, and of McKay's Hail Mary.
"McKay saved the day?" Ronon said when Sheppard finished, obviously surprised.
"It's part of the reason he's on my team," the colonel nodded. Looking down again, he indicated the device at his feet again.
"They kept the creature in a containment unit exactly like this one. The cave in here obviously broke this one open. The creature we just saw must have then eaten up all the available power in this room, whatever was left on, then decided to take a nap until someone...or someones...let it out." He glanced at them then, and his eyes darkened a trifle. There was no question who the someones were, and he wasn't happy about it.
"Well, you opened the door," Ronon shot back, not the slightest bit contrite. Teyla gave the Satedan a dark look, knowing that was really the wrong thing to say.
Sheppard's eyebrows furrowed, his eyes cold. "But I didn't go inside. And I'm pretty sure I said no exploring."
Teyla flushed, looking down. Ronon grimaced, but didn't look away from Sheppard's gaze. It was not insubordinate, exactly, just...not apologetic. Sheppard sighed heavily. Fact was, now was not the time.
"We'll discuss it later," he said finally, too tired right now.
Ronon just sniffed, and shifted McKay again, grunting in pain, his face wincing. Sheppard blinked and gave him a more pointed stare. The former Runner did look away this time.
"He's...he's getting kinda heavy," Ronon confessed, embarrassed.
"I can imagine," Sheppard replied. "Want me to take him?"
Ronon looked at the colonel, then, slowly, nodded. "I think you'd better." It was admitting defeat—a hard thing for the tall man. Sheppard did not respond to it at all, just slipped Rodney's pack off his shoulder to the ground and moved over to take Ronon's burden.
With some work, they transferred the unconscious scientist to Sheppard's shoulder, and the colonel tried not to grimace at how heavy his friend was, made worse by how whipped he was feeling right now. He wasn't strong enough to carry McKay far, but he could get him up a few more levels, until Ronon could take him, or maybe even Teyla, who could probably carry him on her back for a little bit.
Fact was, they had no choice but to carry him. If those villagers or the Wraith came looking, they would eventually get through the door at the bottom of this room, and the Atlantians would have nowhere to run to. And while they all secretly hoped the energy creature had scared the Wraith away—somehow they knew it wasn't the case. The Wraith were single-minded, and, based on what he'd seen, there were a lot of them chasing them down. They wanted the Atlantians, and they would get them, or die trying
Part of him wondered how the Wraith had found them. Again, McKay's voice in his head answered his question—oh come on, Sheppard, are you trying to be dense? It's obvious! The door, Colonel, the door... Mentally, Sheppard nodded. Of course. Activating the doorway under the waterfall—the Wraith must have picked up on the power usage. They'd probably been waiting for it.
They were walking again, continuing the long trek upwards through this long, strange hall, all the while keeping an ear open for the sound of something trying to open the bottom door.
Christ, Sheppard swore, flinching whenever any loud noise intruded on their quiet, this is worse than waiting for a pot to boil.
Part of him wanted them to come already...get it over with.
As they rose, they came across more and more collapsed sections of wall, and Sheppard looked worriedly at the damaged equipment. He remembered visiting the viral lab in Atlantis that had nearly killed half their people, and some of the broken vials and tubes on the smashed work-stations looked eerily similar.
His only source of hope was that the energy monster would have squeezed all the power out of any nano-bots that might be hanging around. But who know what natural viruses and bacteria might be floating around...
As if on cue, a particularly violent shiver ran through McKay. Sheppard paused, confused and a little worried, and rested a hand on the scientist's exposed back where it hung just over his shoulder, where McKay's shirt had fallen down. He drew his hand away quickly, startled.
Damn it...he's burning up!
He had felt the heat somewhat through his flak vest, but had attributed it to his own weakness and the climbing. He touched McKay's skin again—it was very dry...and very hot. Frighteningly so.
Hell. How long had he been like this?
Ronon and Teyla had stopped as well, just waiting. Sheppard met their eyes, and, from the way both of their expressions grew suddenly concerned, he knew he'd given away his fear.
Grimacing, Sheppard just shook his head at them.
"Keep moving," he growled.
Teyla responded by nodding tightly and climbing over some fallen rocks to the next level. Ronon, though, stayed where he was, brow furrowed.
"I can take him again," he offered.
"I got him."
"You're white, Sheppard. Really white. Actually, more green than white now. Let me take him."
The colonel couldn't deny he felt light-headed, but they'd only made it about half-way now. He started to shake his head, to say he could carry him a little while longer, when Teyla called their names, sounding excited. They looked up, and she was standing over the rubble, pointing behind her, grinning like she'd found a mecca in the desert.
"A cart! I have found a cart!"
Amazing, Sheppard thought, matching her smile, how something so ordinary can suddenly be the most wonderful thing in the world.
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Teyla knew her euphoria was strange, that she shouldn't be so excited to find a simple cart, but the looks of relief on the two men's faces only made her happiness grow. She gestured, and Sheppard, with Ronon offering a steadying hand on his back, climbed over the rubble from the cave in with McKay still over his shoulder.
Teyla practically bounded over to the cart, glancing only peripherally at the closed closet-like door next to it partially hidden by the fallen rocks, and rolled the cart over to them. It was not as long as a gurney, but it was wide and long enough to rest McKay on it curled on his side...which is exactly what they did.
Together, Sheppard and Ronon manhandled McKay onto the cart, and Teyla got her first truly good look at Rodney's face as she slipped her jacket under his head to act as a pillow.
The euphoria disappeared instantly.
McKay was pasty and flushed—she didn't have to touch him to know that some kind of fever raged through his body; she could feel the heat radiating from him from here. And she knew why, as well. Putting him on his side revealed the ugly neck wound—the red, puffy edges of the puncture wound were the color of vinegar now, with spidery trails of the same color creeping away from it in all directions under his skin.
The dart, whether by design or not, had become a poison, killing McKay as surely as a bullet would have. They hadn't thought to clean the wound, not that they had ever really had the time, and now it was obviously too late. The scientist was trembling, his breathing raspy and shallow. His brow was furrowed in pain, but he made no actual sound other than the wheezing. It was horrible.
"Hang on, McKay," Sheppard said softly, patting the scientist's shoulder vaguely as Ronon used some cloth strips attached to the cart to tie McKay to it. Teyla watched as the colonel seemed to look everywhere but down at his friend, as if, by not seeing it, he could deny that McKay was dying. Instead, he waited distractedly while Ronon then put McKay's pack on the base of the cart, then nodded at the Satedan when he was done.
Sheppard reached down to touch the handles. His fingers had barely touched the metal before the cart started to move forward on its own. Despite it all, Sheppard gasped, then smiled in happy surprise. With a nod, the cart stopped, obviously at his mental command.
"Whoa," he said. "Self propelled cart. Sweet." He touched it again, and, again, it leapt forward. He probably didn't even need to touch it anymore, now that he'd done it once. Controlled by some inner guidance system, the cart swung over to the side of the room and towards the ramp to the next level. It moved around any obstacles in its way—including any rubble. Sheppard had to move quickly to keep up.
Ronon gave a soft chuckle, nodding at Teyla as he set off after Sheppard, clearly thankful.
Teyla smiled back, but her momentary happiness was firmly gone now, leaving her expression hollow.
Because she knew, even if they did manage to get out of here, back to the jumper, and back to Atlantis...
McKay would be long dead before then.
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TBC...