A/N: Thanks to everyone who left feedback, you're making my day. I hope I got Carson's voice right. That's a bit tricky, since I'm not a native speaker. This is a bit shorter, but I felt that it was a good place to stop.
Sheppard forced his way into a system that clearly did not welcome his presence. Once established, he could barely maintain the connection. The system was fighting him. He had a strange sense of déja-vu. Sweat pooled on his forehead and his heart raced. Sheppard took a deep calming breath, trying to ignore his discomfort. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand.
With some difficulty he managed to get a visual from the sensors, showing him the hive ship in orbit. Several darts launched from that ship, quickly heading for the surface of the planet. Sheppard activated the shield that spread across the entire complex and the village that was close by. A sudden weariness spread through his muscles as if the shield was drawing power from him instead of the ZPM. Sheppard opened his eyes in surprise as a strange tingling, almost painful sensation travelled through his body, leaving numbness in its wake. Something wasn't right.
But he couldn't stop now. He closed his eyes again, sinking deeper into the chair. The people of Rahelia and his team depended on his ability to work this chair.
The shield flickered for a moment, and it took some effort to stabilize it again. The chair systems were reluctant to follow Sheppard's orders. So he pushed harder and the tingling sensation turned into agonizing pins and needles that assaulted his body. He knew he needed to scare the Wraith off while he still could, because he wouldn't be able to keep the systems active for long. His head started to throb as he launched several drones in quick succession. He gritted his teeth against the pain that shot through his body. His limbs trembled with the effort it took to keep the drones on their targets. More sweat drenched his clothes as he made extra sure that each drone was a direct hit. He simply couldn't afford to miss the darts.
One Wraith dart after the other went down until they were all gone. Sheppard allowed himself a small sigh of relief, but the shield flickered instantly, not forgiving the brief moment of distraction. Gradually, Sheppard felt his connection slip. He held onto it. But no matter how much he clutched at the evasive connection, the chair wanted to power down despite his best efforts.
"Sheppard?" Rodney's voice was hollow, like an echo resounding from the walls. Like a memory. "What are you doing? The hive ship is still in orbit! You need to stop it."
"Trying, Rodney," Sheppard ground out. "There is something wrong with the chair."
He pressed his body into the backrest as if he could physically force the chair to recline again. Reaching out for the slippery connection to the chair's systems, he forced his way back inside with all the strength he could muster. And slowly, gradually, the chair followed his commands. The hive ship was still there and apparently, they hadn't launched any further darts. Perhaps they were scanning the planet's surface for the source of the unexpected resistance.
Sheppard used the opportunity to fire several sets of drones at the hive ship. It took every last ounce of strength he possessed to keep them in line. His head felt like it was hit by a jack hammer. It was a strange experience to have Ancient tech be this unresponsive to his commands. Perhaps this was what being connected to the chair felt like for Beckett or McKay. Maybe not quite as exhausting, but still. This sense of unreliability was getting to Sheppard as much as the fatigue that had enveloped his body in a heavy blanket.
Finally, at least some of the drones hit their target, causing considerable damage. Sheppard watched the hive ship disappear from the sensors as it opened a hyperspace window. So the ship wasn't yet damaged beyond repair, but the Wraith were gone. Since they didn't know how dearly this fight had cost him, he could only hope they weren't likely to return anytime soon. He couldn't win another round against them.
The chair severed the connection, or so it seemed. Sheppard half expected to find himself lying on the floor again. But when he opened his eyes, he found himself still deeply immersed in the city's systems. It took him a moment to realize that everything, including the moment he'd opened his eyes, had just happened inside his mind.
He gasped. "That was intense. Any idea what was wrong with the chair on MX-650?"
"According to preliminary analysis of Dr. McKay's data, the chair was not malfunctioning," Atlantis replied.
Sheppard felt a surge of despair wash over him. "But how can that be possible? What was going on there? Was the Rahelian's gene actually different from mine?"
"The analysis of your memories is not yet complete," Atlantis stated. "It will take some time to compare them to the chair's readings. You may as well rest, John Sheppard."
The chair powered down, this time for real. Sheppard found himself back in in the chair room. His muscles still hurt. But he was surprised that he didn't feel as thoroughly wiped out as he'd been on MX-650. He had a slight headache, but nothing like it had been the first time. Still, the experience had unsettled him. While being in the chair, everything had felt so real. He raked his hand through his hair and got up with a frustrated sigh. Black spots danced before his eyes for a moment, when he stood straight. But they faded quickly.
"What do you think you're doing there?"
Startled, Sheppard looked up to find McKay standing in front of him, arms folded in front of his chest. Anger exuded from his every pore. His jaw was firmly set and his lips were a tight line. Sheppard knew McKay didn't like it when he used Ancient tech without his knowledge or permission. In part, because it was dangerous and – Sheppard was sure of that – jealousy played an important role as well. And for a brief moment, Sheppard felt a surge of guilt rush through him. But that was soon replaced by anger and exasperation.
Somehow, he managed to keep those feelings from seeping into his voice. "I was trying to get some answers, since you weren't going to help me."
"Using the chair?" McKay asked dumbfounded.
"Yes." Once again, he felt like he was pushed into the defensive role. He lifted his chin defiantly. "Atlantis is currently comparing the data you retrieved from the chair to what she gathered from my memories."
McKay blinked a few times. "Your memories?"
Sheppard's impatience grew. "Yes, my memories. Is there an echo here, or are you going to repeat everything I just said."
He cringed as he realized how much he sounded like McKay. It wasn't fair to treat his friend like that. He flashed the other man a rueful smile, hoping it was enough of an apology.
McKay ignored the rebuff. "And, did you find anything?"
Sadly, Sheppard shook his head. "Atlantis said the chair was working properly. But she's still analyzing my memories."
A smug expression flashed across McKay's face. But it vanished so quickly, Sheppard wasn't sure he'd actually seen it.
His friend stepped closer, looking unusually concerned. "What's going on, John? You've been acting weird ever since we returned from MX-650."
"I'm fine," Sheppard grunted.
He went past McKay, who reached for his arm to hold him back.
"John-" McKay was interrupted as both their comms activated.
It was Chuck's voice. "Dr. McKay, Colonel Sheppard, please report to the gate room, immediately."
They looked at each other. "On our way," they said in unison.
Both tapped their ear pieces and stared at each other for a moment. Concern was still evident in McKay's expression. Sheppard could see that he was torn between wanting to talk some more and the impulse to get to the gate room as quickly as possible. Since he had no real desire to talk things through with McKay of all people, Sheppard decided to take matters into his own hands. He turned on his heel and headed for the next transporter as fast as his lingering weariness would let him. Without saying another word, McKay followed suit.
Within minutes, they reached the gate room. A small crowd had gathered there, including Zelenka, Lorne and Dr. Weir.
As he spotted the group, Sheppard felt the hairs in his neck stand on edge. "What's going on?"
He stopped short of joining the group of people who were staring at several monitors. McKay went ahead, pushing Zelenka aside to see for himself what had the others so obviously worried.
Dr. Weir turned to Sheppard, her expression very serious. "Our long range sensors picked up several hive ships that seem to be heading in our direction."
"Guess they figured out who attacked them on MX-650," Lorne said grimly. "One of them looks like it has taken fire, recently. I bet it's the ship you took on, Sir."
Sheppard's gut twisted into a tight knot. "How many hive ships are we talking about, exactly?"
Lorne's lips became a tight line and his jaw tensed. "Four hive ships have dropped out of hyperspace. But they have been floating in space longer than they strictly need to. They might be waiting for reinforcements before they return to hyperspace."
The pounding of his heart increased. Atlantis wouldn't be able to deal with four hive ships at once, not to mention more than four.
Though Sheppard dreaded the answer, he needed to ask. "How much time do we have?"
"Two or three days, depending on how long they rest between hyperspace jumps," McKay piped up. "We need this ZedPM, John. And we need it now."
Sheppard stifled a gasp. The Wraith had just upped the ante, considerably. There was no way he could get out of this now. He knew that this was no longer about him or his feelings about the whole matter. The entire expedition was at risk. He needed to do something and quick. Once again, his heart was racing like mad and the gate room seemed to be closing in on him. He wanted to tell everyone that they needn't worry, that he was going to do what needed to be done. But his tongue seemed to be stuck on the roof of his mouth, unwilling to work. Sheppard felt awfully trapped.
Dr. Weir's voice came from a distance. "I know you're not comfortable with this assignment, John."
Visions of Mathar kissing him danced before his eyes. He saw the wide eyes of the scared girls who probably had no idea what was expected of them, imagined Tahar's hands forcing him to violate them against their will. Nausea rose in his stomach. His hands were assaulted by pins and needles and started to cramp. Sheppard fought to bring his breathing back under control.
"Don't worry, I'll go." Somehow he managed to get the words past the lump in his throat. "I'll get my gear."
Mechanically, he turned to get his tack vest and P-90. His body worked on auto-pilot and he let it. If he wasted another thought on this assignment, he probably wouldn't find the nerve to go. All he had to do was stay focused. The world around him had faded completely. If any of his team mates had addressed him, he didn't hear them.