When Sheppard stumbled through the Stargate and didn't see the warm walls of Atlantis greeting him, he knew he was in trouble. Instead, a bleak, black and grey landscape was spread before him. The sky beyond was red, but not the red from a sunset or a sunrise. It glowed, almost as if it were lit with fire. The air around him was acrid and smelled of sulfur.

"What the hell?" he muttered to himself, slowly turning in a circle, P90 raised and snug against his shoulder.

Did they misdial? Why was he alone and where was his team? He had made sure that Teyla, McKay, and Ronon had entered the Stargate first. It wasn't uncommon for him to be the last through. But that had only happened seconds beforehand, and there was no way they could have disappeared that fast.

With growing horror, he realized there was also no DHD.

No Atlantis, no team, and no DHD.

Cursing softly, he spun in a circle again, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling uncomfortably. What the hell had happened?

Underfoot, fine, black gravel crunched, raising small clouds of black dust, and the harsh landscape spread as far as the eye could see in rolling gloomy hills around the 'gate.

Maybe the DHD was behind one of the hills.

Sheppard set off for the nearest one that seemed logical for a DHD to hide behind. Cresting the small hill, he found nothing. More rolling black hills under a blood red sky greeted him.

Scouring the perimeter of the Stargate and checking behind any hill the DHD could be behind, Sheppard grew more and more confused as he retreated back to the 'gate. Was it a space 'gate that had somehow ended up on the surface of a planet? If so, he was still screwed. He didn't have a puddle jumper to dial out with, and he wasn't sure if anyone knew where he was. His only consolation was that his team had hopefully made it back to Atlantis.

Or maybe they didn't. Is that why no one had dialed to his location yet? Had everyone else ended up in random locations? Had there been a solar ray spike or some other scientific mumbo jumbo that had altered his course? Where was McKay when he needed him?

Raking his hand through his hair, Sheppard cursed again. It had been over twenty minutes since he had arrived and no one else had dialed through. That likely meant no one knew where he was.

Turning in another circle, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Did someone just duck behind that hill?

There was no cover except for the Stargate in his immediate vicinity. With the hellish landscape surrounding him, Sheppard knew it was a good bet friendlies might not be in the picture.

Pressing his back against the solid frame of the 'gate, Sheppard dropped to one knee, P90 raised and aimed at the hill where he had seen movement. Holding his breath, he counted to 10, then cautiously threw a look over his shoulder.

Nothing.

Was he seeing things?

Every instinct screamed at him not to drop his guard, and his skin was crawling with alertness. Years of training had taught him to relax but remain attentive in high stress situations.

Slowly breathing in and out, Sheppard listened.

Something shifted softly off to his left, behind the rim of the Stargate he was pressed against. Ahead of him, where he thought he had seen something, a barely noticeable fine cloud of dust had risen.

He wrapped his finger around the trigger of the P90 and reached back with the other hand to loosen the sheath of his knife at his belt.

And then all hell broke loose.

A green blast of fire hit the Stargate just above his head, white-hot searing heat causing him to duck and blinding him momentarily before rising, P90 aimed at the crest of the hill where the blast had come from.

A man was standing there, or rather - something that looked like a man was standing there, advancing on him with inhuman speed. Heavy footsteps pounded on the gravel, and Sheppard had a glimpse of long, sharp teeth, and red, cat-like eyes before opening fire.

Whatever the man-thing was made of, it took an abnormal amount of bullets to bring him down. Sheppard's stomach dropped, his heart pounding as the body slid down the hill, the strange gun in its hand clattering at Sheppard's feet.

The man was easily over seven feet tall, broader and more muscled than Ronon, and was most definitely not human. The face reminded Sheppard of a Wraith, but not one hair grew on the smooth, grey skin. A strange, red light blinked at the crown of the alien's skull on the left side, and as Sheppard watched, the light blinked slowly and then went out.

Grabbing the alien gun and scrambling backwards to press his back to the Stargate, Sheppard scanned the hills again while taking a quick look at the new gun in his hand.

What were these things?

Seconds later, another green bolt of fire grazed the air above his head, sending Sheppard whirling around, knee braced and gun ready. He decided to forgo the P90 in favor of the more powerful alien weapon, especially as it had taken quite a lot of bullets to take the first guy down. He kept the P90 clipped, letting it drop to his chest.

Another alien was racing over the crest of the hill a few meters away from where the first had come from, gun in hand and aimed directly at Sheppard.

Sheppard aimed and squeezed the trigger. It took three shots, straight to the chest, to bring the alien down.

"Damn," Sheppard whistled softly. What were these guys made of?

He didn't have time to continue wondering as the sound of pounding feet came from yet another direction. This time, the alien was on Sheppard before he could raise his gun.

Slamming into him in a side tackle, the breath was completely knocked out of Sheppard, causing him to flop haphazardly on the ground as he and the alien rolled in the black dust. Fighting to get his lungs working again, Sheppard clawed at the fine, black gravel in desperation as the alien laid into him, fists flying. Hoping his tac vest would protect him from the worst of the blows, Sheppard gritted his teeth against the pain as they kept rolling. He eventually managed to get his feet under him, lungs heaving in oxygen before finally hooking a knee around the alien's neck, wrenching with all of his might, and stopping the roll with him on top. He realized in the seconds it took him to throw the alien that he had lost the alien's gun and the P90 was in an awkward position, but he still had his Beretta. Pulling the gun from the holster he fired straight into the alien's face, four shots.

Not even pausing to check if the alien was going to stay down, Sheppard kept moving, wiping at the black blood that had sprayed his face. He hated the idea of leaving the Stargate, but he was on low ground. The Stargate was in a depression surrounded by hills and he had no advantage except for having something at his back.

Scooping up the fallen alien gun, Sheppard took off at a low run towards the top of a hill, P90 bouncing on his chest, hoping that adrenaline would keep him going long enough to get out of this. Or get off this planet.

Cresting the nearest hill, he could see figures approaching in the distance, off to what he guessed was either east or west, depending on whether he had arrived in the morning or evening. It was impossible to see the sun's position through the red haze, but it seemed brighter in the direction of the approaching figures.

Dropping to one knee with his P90 tight to his shoulder, he stuffed the alien gun into his vest for easier access and spun, checking the surrounding hills around the Stargate.

There.

A head crested the hill opposite him. He sighted and squeezed the trigger.

The head snapped back and disappeared.

Another head ten meters away. He sighted and squeezed. This one didn't stop. The giant figure summited the hill and descended, gun in hand and aiming his way. A green bolt hit the gravel near Sheppard's foot, spraying him with a fine black cloud of dust and shards of stone.

Sheppard kept firing. Three meters away, the alien dropped, arm outstretched and twitching.

Two more heads crested the opposite hill behind the Stargate. Sheppard threw a glance behind him. The landscape was empty, so he chanced dropping to his belly for a smaller target, legs sprawled and P90 braced against his shoulder and the ground. He pulled out the alien gun and set it beside him, but preferred the comfort and accuracy of his own gun. He knew eventually he would have to discard the P90. He could only carry so many cartridges, and the first was running low.

Green bolts hit the hill just beneath him. At least these guys weren't great shots, Sheppard wryly thought before taking out another alien halfway between the hill and the Stargate. The second leapt over the ring and Sheppard sprayed him full in the chest. The alien kept going a few more meters before the bullets finally brought him down.

"What are these guys?" Sheppard muttered to himself. They were proving to be as hard to bring down as a Wraith — if not even tougher with the amount of bullets he was using.

Movement in the corner of his eye brought Sheppard swinging around to find his P90 clicking empty as another alien bore down on him from the left.

Dropping the P90 and swiping the alien gun, Sheppard fired.

One. Two. Three. Four.

The alien finally crashed down the side of the hill, his body sliding through the gravel to come to a rest at one of his comrade's sides.

Were they getting harder to take down? Sheppard had wasted no bullets, nor had he wasted any shots from the alien gun. But it was taking an extraordinary amount of gunfire to take down one alien.

Slamming a spare cartridge into the P90, Sheppard scanned the horizon again. He wiped at his brow and his hand came away grimy with black dust, sweat, and alien blood. If he managed to get back to Atlantis he was going to need a week's worth of showers to clean up all this dirt.

Only a moment afterwards, the aliens decided to arrive en force.

Sheppard didn't have time to figure out how many there were, but they were coming from everywhere. With desperation, he realized it was a losing battle as the aliens just kept coming. In moments, he brought down five, ten, a dozen, and then they were on him.

He lunged to his feet, his P90 blasting into the chest of his nearest attacker as he swiped his knife from its sheath.

Slashing, stabbing, moving on pure instinct and praying all the sparring sessions with Ronon and Teyla would pay off, Sheppard knew that this was it.

He ended up tumbling down the hill when one of the aliens tackled him, crashing to a stop against the rim of the Stargate with more aliens bearing down on them as they tangled.

Grappling with the nearest alien, Sheppard knew his strength was no match for a monster like this one. The alien easily picked him up by his vest and bodily hurled him against the Stargate. His head cracked on impact, and he could feel hot blood pouring down the side of his face. Black spots swirled in his vision as he fell to his hands and knees, but he knew he had to keep fighting. He wasn't going to just let them kill him.

Staggering to his feet and blindly swiping with the knife that he found was still in his hand, Sheppard felt soft flesh impact with the blade and threw his body weight into it. The alien fell away and he staggered again, blinking red out of his eyes as he fell to one knee, still stunned from the first impact against the 'gate.

A body slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. He felt something crack inside, and slashed and stabbed as they rolled, hoping he hit something vital. He was determined to not go down easily.

And then there were hands, rough and hurting, grabbing his arms, hauling him to his knees, pressing down on his shoulders and causing him to cry out in pain. The knife was torn from his hand, and fingers carded in his hair, forcing his head back to see shadows all around him, blotting out the blood-red sky.

One face shoved itself closer, looking Sheppard in the eye. He could barely focus on those red, alien eyes. There were too many black spots beginning to crowd into his vision, and he was beginning to feel injuries that adrenaline had hidden from him.

Was this the end? Is this how he would spend his final moments?

"Human," the alien said.

Sheppard said nothing, trying to focus on his breathing and stay conscious.

The alien said nothing more, but it seemed as though an unspoken communication happened amongst the group surrounding him. He stood, looking at something Sheppard could not see, then the hands on his shoulders and arms were wrenching him to his feet, nearly lifting him off the ground. It was as though his weight was nothing to them, his struggles feeble.

They dragged him up the hill away from the Stargate, towards where Sheppard thought the sun was either rising or setting. East or west?

His breath was starting to hitch and he suspected something was broken inside as he swallowed back the iron taste of blood in his throat. Yes, something was mortally wrong.

He couldn't see out of his left eye anymore, and every pull on his shoulders and arms caused flares of pain through his sides. His feet could no longer keep pace and he was mercilessly hauled forward, his boots dragging in the black gravel beneath him.

The world was fading into grey, tilting sideways into black, and still they carried on, until Sheppard finally slipped into the black bliss of unconsciousness.