46: Volunteers

The cargo/passenger section of the puddle jumper granted a few seats, attached to the walls at either side. The interior was otherwise somewhat cramped, made all the more so by the bags and containers of equipment that were netted to the walls above the seats at either side.

The passengers within were all decked out in black 'night raid' combat gear. The team was there, with John standing in the middle of the two benches, his rifle slung about one shoulder as he told those assembled just what it was they were going to do. Natalia, Aithris, Jonas and Elsie were seated to his left, all paying close attention. Five more soldiers were on the other bench, volunteers who had joined in at the Colonel's request. Some because they respected the Colonel, others because they had been itching to get off-world and into some proper action. John had promised them as much, as there was no doubt in his mind that they would be running into trouble where they were headed.

In the cockpit, a volunteer pilot, a young Lieutenant, operated the cargo ship's controls as he propelled the ship out of Earth's atmosphere. This 'puddle jumper' had been left behind on Earth after Atlantis' last stay on the planet, relegated to the odd bit of reconnaissance work but otherwise seemingly forgotten about since the stargate program had been defunded. So, it had remained in mothballs, a last resort means of transport in case of an emergency. To John, the current situation certainly qualified.

"We got a message from Daniel," John said. The ship was well on its way into Earth's upper atmosphere, moving along at a speed that would put any jet fighter to shame. The inertial dampeners on board almost gave the impression that they were not moving at all, given the lack of windows in the cargo section. One could hear the quiet hum of the engines, an indication that the ship was in action.

"Well, Rodney McKay actually," John added, regarding the hastily assembled team before him with a slightly narrowed gaze. They were heading in mostly blind, in the sense that they had no real intel on just what kind of enemy force they would encounter. Atlantis was a place he knew well, so the layout would not provide any issues. "He and Daniel and Teal'c are on Atlantis."

"Atlantis?" Jonas perked up when he heard this. "Isn't that in the Pegasus galaxy?"

"That's what I thought too," John said, and his voice soured a little as he recalled the lies he had been told every time he had tried to find out more about Atlantis' status. Ever since he had been recalled to Earth years before, he had tried more than once to find out just what the go was over in the Pegasus galaxy. And each time, no one had been able to give him a straight answer. Now, it seemed that answer had come from an unexpected place.

"It's on the moon and it's in the hands of some bad people," John continued. "Now, I don't really know what we'll be heading into up there. Sounds like McKay and Daniel and Teal'c have stirred up a real hornet's nest. We could be running into serious trouble. Fact of the matter is, three of our people are up there and they need help. That, for me, is all the reason I need to go up there. If any of you want to turn back now, let me know. Otherwise, once we're out of Earth's atmosphere, there's no turning back." He checked his watch. "You've got about thirty seconds to make your decision."

A few looks were exchanged amongst the group, but otherwise no one said anything. They had all agreed to come because some of their own were in trouble. And no one got left behind, no matter the circumstances. John had lived by that creed all his life, and it was one that the entire SGC had adopted from very early on.

"There could be an army up there," John said. "Humans, so no nasty alien monsters, but we all know just how nasty us ordinary human beings can get. Thing is, we have the element of surprise and I know Atlantis. I know the hiding spots and the secret passages. If we play our cards right, we can sneak in and take control of the city before the people there even realise."

"And what people are we talking about, sir?" Captain Desmond Stanton, one of the volunteers, spoke up then. He was a stern-looking African-American man with a shaved head, and he met the Colonel's eyes with a severe look in his own. He was all business, now that they were on their way into enemy territory. The Captain had come from the Army's Delta Force and had been assigned to SG-11 as the team leader. John did not know the man well and did not know what to expect of him; even so, Stanton had agreed to join in on the mission despite its very short notice. He had even brought along one of his squad members, Lieutenant Domingo Guiterrez, a young officer who had been working at the SGC for close to a year. He was from Los Angeles, having joined the military in the first place as a means to get out of the poor, gang-infested neighbourhood he had grown up in. He had no doubt excelled since then, which had landed him on Stanton's team.

"Black ops types, mercenaries, well-paid thugs. We're dealing with powerful people who have turned Atlantis into their own personal villainous lair. They've probably got known terrorists working for them. In a nutshell, Captain, I'd prepare myself for just about anything." He did not like going in with such little intel. Judging from the look Stanton gave, he liked it even less. Still, with their own people on the line this mission was a necessity. Here they had a chance to finally put a stop to those responsible for subverting not only the stargate program, but perhaps the world as a whole. The same ones who had built the Broadsword and defunded the stargate program in the first place were up there, John could feel it.

Guiterrez looked across to Elsie, who was leaning forwards where she was seated, her complexion pale.

"You look terrible, Lieutenant."

Elsie looked up at the remark, frowning at her fellow officer.

"Not as terrible as you." She spoke through gritted teeth. John watched her, trying to get a gauge on just what kind of discomfort she was in. Elsie had dosed up on painkillers before getting on board the ship. Her bruised face did indeed make her look terrible, which was only compounded by her overall pale complexion and strained expression.

"If you're not up to it, Lieutenant, you might need to stay on the ship." John already knew what kind of answer he would get to this suggestion.

"No way, Colonel." Elsie looked up at him, forcing a smile. "I'll be fine, sir. These pills don't kick in right away."

"I hope they don't scramble your brains when they do," John remarked. He caught Aithris' gaze then, and the Nomad gave a subtle shake of his head. His heightened senses had likely provided him a better idea of Elsie's actual state, more so than what a mere glance on John's part could offer. Of course, trying to convince the troublesome Lieutenant to hang back would be a pointless endeavour. Even if she said she would, she instead would disobey orders and come after them. She was stubborn to the point of foolishness. John was not sure if he found that trait admirable or worrying. Probably a bit of both, he figured.

"I've got a hard head, sir. Calsharans hit me a bunch and it's still working." Elsie kept up her smile, even as she hunched over slightly as more pain worked its way through her ribs and head. It was only for a fleeting moment, before she adjusted her posture to something straighter and clenched her jaw. A strong façade, even if the pain underneath was taking its toll. John would have to keep an eye on her. If she got hurt (or worse), then he would bear much of the blame.

"Do we know where Jackson and the others are, in Atlantis?" Natalia asked, and John turned to her. He shook his head, once again reminded of how in-the-dark they were in regards to this mission.

"No, not really," John answered. "But there are ways to find people in Atlantis. The Ancients made sure of that when they built the place. We find a networked computer and we get into the bio-scanners they have around the city. Problem with that is Daniel and McKay and Teal'c, they're going to be hiding from those systems. They're going to either sabotage them or head into the parts of the city where the scanners aren't as reliable. So, we'll either find them through the computer systems or find them by searching the older, less-maintained areas. We'll have better luck with the former if we take control of the central tower. From there, we'll have access to just about every computer in the city."

"The central tower will probably be heavily guarded," Jonas said.

"Yeah, that's another problem. The people up there aren't going to make things easy for us. Nothing ever is, really. That's why we're going to have to try and remain undetected for as long as we can. We're going to go in cloaked and we're going to get as close to the central tower as we can. Chances are the bad guys there are going to be distracted looking for Jackson and the others, and knowing those three, they'll be causing as much trouble as they can. That should make things easier for us."

"We could have used more guys," Lieutenant Guiterrez said.

"This trip's on the downlow, practically off-the-record," John explained. "Janssen's going out on a limb letting us go, and so we've got to make the most of it with a small team. An all-out assault probably wouldn't work, because they might see that coming. And with the kinds of people we're going up against, they would be the ones ordering us not to attack. These people, they've had their fingers in the stargate program since it began. And they have their fingers in a whole lot of other stuff, some of which is anything but good." John had never thought too much on the 'conspiracy theory' side of things, but to have a small committee at the top of the world's hierarchy controlling affairs all over the world? Was that really so much of a stretch, when even the United Nations was essentially a bunch of people seated around a table deciding on what the nations of the world should be doing? To assume there were more people above that was not so far-fetched. For whatever reason, those people had put Atlantis on the moon. Perhaps it was to put some distance between themselves and the masses on Earth who, if they ever caught wind of what was really going on, might revolt?

"You're telling me we're going up against the 'globalists' I hear so much talk about these days?" Stanton asked, and he cocked one eyebrow as he did so. He might not have entirely believed it, but he was willing to. If the evidence was there, then why would he not?

"Maybe, I'm not sure. I just know they're powerful, powerful enough to defund the stargate program and build an entire battle-station in secret. Jackson and McKay just happened to stumble into their lair, from what I can tell."

"Sounds like the people behind this all deserve a little beatdown," Natalia commented. Guiterrez and a couple of the other volunteers with him nodded in agreement.

"We'll give them more than that, Sergeant," John added. He managed a wry smile. "Much more than that."


Sabotage. That was what was on Daniel's mind, but unlike McKay, he did not know Atlantis quite so well. Sure, he had studied it in detail, but so much of that study had been from diagrams and Ancient texts. He had not actually been here, within the city, all that often. Perhaps, had he had his way originally, he would have gone with that first expedition lead by Elizabeth Weir. Instead, his duties at the SGC had kept him with SG-1, which had turned out to be the correct course to take. Nonetheless, he found his lack of actual practical knowledge about the city a little frustrating, and so like someone lost at a shopping mall, he used one of the terminals dotted about the place to get his bearings.

Teal'c kept watch on the corridor behind him. They were in one of the outlying buildings, towards the city's ground level. So far, they had managed to lose their pursuers, but it was only a matter of time before their enemies caught their trail again. The scanners dotted about the city were a double-edged sword, it seemed, as they had benefited the expedition greatly; now, however, they were proving a hindrance, one only counteracted by keeping to the lower levels where the network was somewhat more patchy.

The terminal offered maps and general information, all written in the language of the Ancients. Daniel had no trouble making sense of it, for Ancient was one alien language he was especially fluent in. There was a power substation not too far from their current position, a place wherein a zero-point module would normally be operating. Chances are there was no module there, rather a naquadah generator, as the Ancient ZPMs were few and very hard to come by. However, there was a ZPM in the central tower, and that would have provided enough power for the entire city-ship. They could disrupt the substation, but that would do little if they could not get rid of the central ZPM as well. Daniel's plans to mess with the power about the city fell apart almost immediately. It would have been an obvious path to take, an effective one at that. Still, he did not fancy his chances at penetrating the central tower. Not unless they found another way in, a way that those currently in charge of the city did not know about. The main power room was about six levels under the control room near the top of the central tower; that place was inaccessible, as far as Daniel was concerned. If they wanted to get up there, they were going to need help or a miracle.

Had McKay's message made it through? Daniel had to assume they were on their own, for the time being. No use holding out hope for backup that may never actually come. Who knew what kind of power games were being played back on Earth, if this place was indeed being run by someone who exercised considerable power over world affairs? They had the power to shut down the stargate program, and so would have all the power they needed to keep anyone from responding to that message if it had indeed made it out.

"We should get out of here," Daniel said. "Get back to Earth and get help." He did not like the idea of running away, but short of having an entire army at their disposal, he saw no other option.

Teal'c frowned slightly, disapproving of the plan.

"And what of Doctor McKay?"

"I don't know," Daniel answered, and he shook his head. "He could be dead for all we know. I just don't see a way for us to get into that central structure. Not directly. Unless…" A thought occurred to him that came only from having been here before, searching for secret rooms and passages. "We're in the East Pier, right?"

Teal'c quirked an eyebrow. Evidently, his familiarity with Atlantis was limited.

"We're in the East Pier," Daniel added, with more certainty this time. "There's a secret lab at the bottom of this building. We go there, because from what I remember, it housed a few useful things we could use."

"What of the teleporter pads?"

"Looks like they've been locking us out of those," Daniel replied. He could see as much on the computer in front of him: someone up in the control tower was deactivating the city's internal teleportation network, no doubt a means to keep the intruders from getting around too easily. Daniel, given time, might have been able to work out an override. However, time was one thing they did not have. Given their proximity to the hidden lab of the Ancient inventor, Janus, it seemed to be their best bet. He had to wonder, how many other hidden rooms were there, how many hidden corridors that joined rooms that were otherwise seemingly distant and unconnected? The answers had to be in that lab, a place that Daniel knew had to house some secrets, even after all of these years.

"Which way, Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c asked him. Daniel looked at the map on the screen in front of him, and then down either end of the corridor. After a moment, he gestured to the left.

"That way, Teal'c." He could only hope that the lab remained hidden. It seemed a stretch, but it was a chance they had to take.

The walk to the otherwise innocuous stretch of corridor that housed the laboratory was uneventful. The halls of this part of the city were somewhat dark, given the overall lack of anyone actually working in this building. Power usage was at a minimum, and the darkness of the barren landscape outside, visible through the windows they passed, only added to the gloom. The corridor in question, a familiar one to Daniel, showed no signs of any actual laboratory entrance. There were, however, deactivated light fittings set upon the walls at intervals. The one thing that would have struck some passers-by as strange was how the corridor stopped at a dead-end, an unusual sight in Atlantis.

"Just bear with me, Teal'c," Daniel said, and he approached one of the light fittings towards the end of the corridor. He wracked his brain for the appropriate memories, specifically the order in which these lights had to be activated. Slowly, with some uncertainty, he put a hand to the one in front of him. Teal'c stood some metres away, keeping watch on the approach from the other end of the corridor interspersed with the odd curious glance towards Daniel.

As Daniel's hand touched the light, a melodious single tone sounded out from it. He recalled the sound, and this brought with it memories of the next one. He hit each light in the order he remembered, resulting in a flowing harmonious tone that echoed down the corridor. A section of wall, between two of the fittings, shimmered noticeably. Daniel gestured for Teal'c to follow, with the archaeologist first to dart through the false, holographic wall with Teal'c stepping in after him.

The room on the other side was dimly lit, with much of the light coming off of the computer terminals situated near its centre. Daniel ran a hand over the panel by the false wall, solidifying it once again. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he noticed with some mounting worry that much of the room had been stripped clean. The computers, fixed as they were into their banks and to the floor, were still as he remembered them. Everything else, however, was not. The benches and shelves about the laboratory were bare. Anything that had not been bolted down had been taken, and even a couple of the wall-mounted computer terminals had been snatched up anyway. A disappointing sight, to say the least.

"Is this place not how it should be, Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c asked him, as the pair stepped towards the middle of the room.

"It's been cleaned out, for one." Daniel stopped before one of the computers there, relieved to see it was still working. "But from here, we might have better luck accessing systems we wouldn't be able to anywhere else." Janus had been smart enough to design backdoors into the city's systems, although it was likely he had done so without permission from his superiors. Daniel began to work hurriedly at the computer, trying to find anything that might help. He did gain access to the city's sensor array, among other things that were not all that useful to him at the moment. The only reason the array jumped out to him was because it had detected something, an unknown contact on its way for the moon.

"Hold on. The sensors have a lock on something." Daniel frowned, unable to do much but watch as the city's systems scanned and identified the craft: an Ancient-built puddle jumper ship, identified as one missing from Atlantis' complement (and missing for some years, it seemed). A sinking feeling became apparent in Daniel's gut, realisation hitting him all at once: help was coming, yet they had not counted on the city's sensors having been improved over the past fifteen years.

"They're cloaked, but it's not helping," Daniel said, speaking more to himself than to Teal'c. "There must be a way I can send out a message. Warn them." He began tapping frantically at the keys, sifting through menus in an effort to find some means to even send an email their way. Anything to warn them that they were heading straight into a snare. Who else would be flying a puddle jumpoer ship from Earth to the moon? It had to be John, or someone else from the SGC.

"Damn it, there has to be a way." Daniel's heart was racing now. He knew that if he sent anything, they would give their location away. Even so, it was necessary to save whoever was on that ship. And somehow, he just knew it was his team.

"Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c was standing next to him now, some concern evident on his usually stoic features. "Can we do anything to help them from in here?"

"Maybe." Daniel could not get a message out, but there was something else he could do. Surveillance systems about the city were all on the same network, and the current residents had only added their own cameras to the mix. Perhaps, if he were to access those, he could find out just where McKay was? Even assist those on the Goa'uld cargo ship, if they happened to not get shot out of the sky?

Once again, Janus came through for them. As suspected, he had built backdoors into the security systems, among others, and from the monitors before them Daniel was able to tap into more than one security feed. Communications remained frustratingly out of reach, but at least now they had an edge. He could only hope that those on their way in that ship realised soon that they had been compromised.


Rodney McKay knew the city better than most, there was no doubt about that. Despite this, a map would have been helpful, particularly a map of the city's labyrinthine ventilation network of ducts and the like. He felt as if he had been crawling through the narrow confines for hours, his claustrophobia kept in check only by the franticness of practically crawling for his life. People were after him, they wanted him dead and his only way out had been to squeeze into a duct and hope for the best.

He kept on moving along, occasionally coming to a rise where one layer of ducts connected to another. He found himself having to climb these points, using whatever small indentations were on the walls as handholds and footholds. He was not sure of exactly where he was going, but he had an idea, a feeling even. This building had become familiar to him during his last stay in the city, when it had been in the Pegasus galaxy. And now he sought a particular room, for he felt it might offer him some answers to a few of the nagging questions that darted about his head. He had left Atlantis in a hurry the last time around, and it had begun the spate of bad luck that had seen him living as a recluse in the American heartland. Not to mention the loss of Keller, which he was convinced had been caused by the same people now in charge of this city. All the more reason to take them down, and he had made sure to block their access to the city's cloaking systems, as well as its shield. For some time to come, Atlantis would be exposed. McKay only hoped that some form of help arrived during that time, if only to ensure that his efforts had not been in vain.

His breathing seemed loud within the confines of the duct. The walls were closing in, or at least he thought they were, and yet again he found himself halting within the duct. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to fight off the rise in anxiety that threatened to paralyse him with fear. He was tougher than this, he was sure of it. Claustrophobia was nothing compared to facing off the Wraith and the Replicators. He had helped save entire worlds and had slain the bad guys on more than one occasion; he was not about to let a narrow space get the better of him. He wondered, briefly, how Zelenka had done it that one time when the city's lockdown had engaged by mistake. If Radek Zelenka could navigate a cramped air duct, then so could Rodney McKay.

He opened his eyes and pushed onwards. He had to be close now, he could practically sense it. The same feeling he had got when he had engaged that last experiment, a sense that all was not quite right within the vicinity.

McKay rounded a corner, stopping at a grille in the floor of the duct. He could make out a darkened room beneath it, and after squinting between the grille's gaps in an attempt to work out just what room it was, he figured that he was where he had intended to go. Chances are the place had been stripped clean during the intervening years. Nonetheless, he went ahead with his plan of action, proceeding to smash his elbows against the grille in an effort to dislodge it. The small latches that held it in place allowed for it to be opened from the other side, a means of access for maintenance purposes. From inside, McKay had to rely upon brute force, and after several hard blows the grille finally detached. It fell from its housing in the ceiling, clanking loudly upon the floor in the room below.

McKay crawled over the opening, an effort to put his feet down it first instead of simply falling face-first into the floor below. Even so, it was awkward going, and for a fearful moment there he thought he was about to become lodged within the opening. He was slim, and yet the small space threatened to enclose itself tight around his stomach. He had lost weight during his stint in the wilderness, so it said something as to Zelenka's more diminutive stature that he had made it out of the ducts while here and now, McKay threatened to get wedged in tight like an overweight cat struggling through a cat-flap.

With a heave, he forced himself through the duct. His arms went up above him and his grip on the insides of the duct slipped, sending him falling feet first into the darkened room below. He landed on a table, causing a loud clunk that he felt could have woken the neighbours. Stumbling, his balance off from the fall, he tumbled over the edge of the table and landed in a heap upon the floor. Pain shot up his left arm for a moment, but it reduced itself to an ache very quickly. Grunting from the effort, McKay rolled onto his back, looking to the ceiling and the small hatch he had dropped through. He then surveyed the room around him, seeing right away that he had indeed come upon the place he had intended.

It was his old laboratory, or more specifically, the laboratory that he had utilised during his last stint here in Atlantis. The place had changed little overall. Some of the odds and ends, electronics parts and the like that had been scattered about on shelves and benches, had been cleared away. However, the computers were where he had left them, sitting dormant. Faint blue lights blinked from the Ancient terminals on the walls, casting the room in a subdued blue-neon glow. McKay rose to his feet, rubbing his aching arm, before he cast his eyes to the other end of the room. Situated there were a pair of simple metal pylons, each about three metres in height. Cables and the like snaked off of them before becoming connected into the main power grid. At a glance, they appeared unremarkable and non-functional. They were, however, McKay's last experiment. An attempt at refining the process he had created when he had designed the 'matter bridge', which in turn had been derived from Project Arcturus. Here, he had simplified the design into a more conventional 'doorway'. He had intended to draw power from another universe entirely, this time without sending dangerous particles back the other way.

Of course, the whole thing had gone sideways. It seemed to McKay that a lot of what he tried to do never really worked out. Even when he succeeded in his scientific endeavours, there had often been a 'catch', some kind of lasting consequence. This experiment had been no different. He had obliterated most of a solar system once, almost ruined a parallel universe after that; and now, for what had been the third attempt with the same principles, he had opened a 'gateway' into somewhere he had thought to exist only within legends and myths. And he could do it again, all he needed to do was power this machine up and enter a command and certain codes into the computers here. Everything would then play out as programmed, and he would once again find himself staring into the abyss. Perhaps, somewhere within that darkness, he could find the answers he sought?

Another question occurred to him then, and a worrisome one at that: had Holt, or the 'Old Man' or any of the people working for him, activated this gateway since his departure? McKay had placed protections on the systems here, codes only he knew. They could have tried to activate the system, but at the end of the day they would have been hard-pressed to get around all that he had placed in their path. McKay was many things, paranoid being one of them. And sometimes paranoia paid off, especially when it turned out that they really were out to get you.

McKay found himself standing before the laptop computer at the centre of it all, the same one he had used during his last stay here. He pulled it open, awakening it from its stand-by mode. It prompted him for a password, and for a moment there he was about to type it in. However, he stopped, and as he looked up and towards the pair of unassuming pylons, he found himself overcome with a sense of growing dread. What was he doing here? Why had he come back here, to the one place his most recent misfortunes had started from?

"It calls to you, does it not?" A raspy, masculine voice sounded from the shadows behind him. McKay spun around, catching sight of the malicious red eyes, gleaming in the dark. The Herald was not someone who was easy to miss, and McKay now knew why that familiar dread had filled him so suddenly. The creature had been here, waiting for him. Somehow, it had known to expect him to come here.

"Everyone who looks into that darkness is touched by it, in some small way," the Herald continued. He stepped forwards and into the low-light, dressed in a thick black cloak that concealed his wings and more bestial features. His face was clear, however, scrunched up into a look of malevolent amusement. "Most humans who see it do not survive the encounter with their sanity intact. The fact that you were already a little crazy, Rodney McKay, might have saved you from the usual insanity."

"What did I see?" McKay had wanted an answer to this question for seven years. He had a feeling as to what it might be, but his scientific mind refused to acknowledge that possibility. Nonetheless, he had had seven years to ponder the subject, and as that time had gone on, he had found himself gradually coming to accept what may very well have been the truth. And despite all of that, he still struggled to accept it. Confirmation from the Herald, of all sources, would likely not make that truth any easier to swallow.

"You know what you saw, doctor. You just cannot accept it." The Herald stepped closer, and McKay immediately backed away a few steps. However, all this did was cause his backside to hit the edge of the desk. "Did you want me to prove it to you?"

"No need." McKay looked for a way out, but with the Herald in his path he could see none. Had he made a mistake, coming back here? Evidently so. He reached behind himself with one hand, finding the keys of the laptop. He knew his way around a keyboard, and so he began to tap in the first of the codes. He did not intend on starting up the machine, rather he had something else in mind.

"I'd like to go now, so if you'll please…" He made a move to step around the Herald's bulky form, only for the creature to step forwards and put a hand to his neck. Its clawed fingers tightened around his throat, and immediately McKay's eyes widened, fear surging through him. As the Herald lifted him off of his feet, doing so effortlessly with one hand, McKay punched in the last code. An automated start-up began, the safeties disengaged with the use of his override code. The power build-up was fast, and in a matter of seconds the pylons were absolutely crackling with energy. A slight breeze picked up around them, kicking up dust. The Herald, distracted, diverted its eyes to the pylons. McKay squirmed out of the monster's grip, throwing himself aside before he hit the floor and slid across the somewhat smooth surface a few metres.

There followed a brilliant flash, enough to blind the Herald for a prolonged moment. All the opportunity for McKay to race for the exit. The Herald let out an enraged roar, one hand over his eyes and the other arm swinging about him wildly in an effort to locate the troublesome physicist. McKay was already out of the room then, racing down the corridor outside with his heart racing and sweat forming on his brow. A partially anxious sweat, brought on more by his frantic state than by any significant physical exertion. Behind him, the winged demon roared in anger, charging out into the corridor, eyes still blinking rapidly in an effort to recover from the brilliant flash.

McKay did not dare look behind. He simply kept on running, racing along at a pelt that he had not previously thought himself capable of. All the while, the devil (or one of his minions) was hot on his heels.