Wide Open Road

by VetinariVimesy

John wants to get back to Pegasus. Too bad everyone seems determined to stop him. Between the IOA, the brass, & general idiocy it looks like Atlantis is stuck on Earth. At least there's stuff going on at the SGC to keep him occupied, right? A conspiracy against the Tau'ri unfurls. Attacks on multiple fronts; kidnapping, invasion, piracy, a bomb. Amidst the chaos, who's the target?

8. Chapter 8

...and a bad time is had by all.

Notes:

Another long plotty one!

WARNINGS - generic Stargate-canon-typical torture. Nothing too graphic here, Athena prefers to keep her hands clean after all. But please take note!

---

Chapter 8:

Sheppard was starving, what he wouldn't give for one of those weird new First Strike Rations the SGC was guinea pigging, or… he could do with one of those high calory MCWs that'd been prevalent at McMurdo. No… John craved one of the British cold climate ORP packs.

Like most international bases, there was a brisk trade on Atlantis amongst the military services that made up Lantis's battalion for the numerous MRE, and MRE-equivalents their respective countries supplied. Usually, anything from mainland Europe was gold dust; from the 'cooked by real chefs' RCIRs and RIERs the French got, the Italian ration with its shot of booze, anything by JOMIPSA in Spain, who produced rations for the UN and approximately 30 other nations, including Portugal, with their fish focused MREs, and the ridiculous UAE MREs with their high quality coffee. …Or heading to the Far East, the Japanese JSDFs, Indonesian rations with their delicious mains and always bizarre drinks - Minsals 1 2 & 3, and Minkal. South Korean RoK MREs were the most sought after - worth a huge amount on Lantis's brisk black market…

But no, the middling 5500 calory British cold climate 24-hour ORP sounded like a little slice of heaven, loaded with carbs, fat and sugar… One of those would be the equivalent of nirvana… Shep could practically taste the bland creaminess of the muesli oatmeal breakfast thingy or… John couldn't quite believe his mouth was watering, the weird crunchy 'oat biscuit' things that came in sweet stem ginger and cheese flavour… The strangely perfect off-brand Gatorade… The chemically 3 in 1 coffee… The staple boiled sweets… Lemon and blackcurrant…

Even good old MRE cheese sounded like heaven right now… Or hell, the good-bad old MREs back in the day. When it was still possible to make Ranger Pudding out of the supplied peanut butter, Hot Chocolate Type I and Instant coffee Type II… Or no… John thought right back, all the way to his early days in the service in the 90s when the infamous Four Fingers of Death was still a menu option. Four smoked frankfurters vacuum packed unattractively into their retort pouch; those things were the real Frankenstein of the frankfurter world.

However, after that self-enforced Death March across the Balkans, and hitting the frontlines of allied territory, the Four Fingers of Death had simultaneously been the best and worst meal he'd ever eaten. Shep could still taste the overly strong artificial liquid smoke even now, nearly twenty years later. He'd practically inhaled the horrible things, then nearly vomited them all up as his shrivelled stomach objected to John's choice of first meal. A pouch of four shelf-stable frankfurters, the best, or rather, only decent thing he'd eaten in nearly two months… It'd been heavenly.

Yeah, he was daydreaming about MREs… John knew that couldn't be good. At least it wasn't daydreams about the dreaded veggie omelette MRE aka the vomlet. That pitiful attempt at a breakfast menu was finally replaced with the maple sausage patty this year, to almost everyone's relief. (Stackhouse claimed he liked the vomlets; there was always one.) From the frequent trades and swaps that went on amongst Lantis's military cohort over the years, John knew pretty much everyone outside of perhaps China, supplied more palatable soldier's rations than the infamous vomlet. Not even Rodney would touch those things, though Ronon and Teyla tended to scoff at Earther fussiness and chow down on them, complaining about artificial additives all the while.

At least Vala and Rush were (mostly) alright. He'd been dragged in and out of the lab of horrors as some kind of proof of life ploy. Unfortunately, John had barely been conscious at the time, but next time, he'd get some information out, or at least give Vala one of many objects that were miraculously still secreted about his person.

John shifted in his restraints, reawakening long-since gone-dead muscles. The agony of blood reperfusing tissue brought him back to the here and now, tearing John away from plotting his escape, and pleasant daydreams of meals gone by. They'd left him hanging in his bonds in the Goa'uldy lab of horrors, which should have been a mistake on their part. Only, he'd tried to work his way out of the restraints keeping him pinned to the wall - Almost before John could contemplate dislocating his thumb, the tentacally looking metal thing that had a firm grip on his wrist tightened. Nauseatingly it ground the bones in the joint together in obvious threat, before relaxing back to merely painfully tight when Shep stopped struggling.

After an absolute age, Athena marched back in, derailing his hazy attempts to plan what to do next,

"Activate the device Colonel Sheppard."

Despite the misery that awakened every time he shifted; John made sure to inject maximum insolent drawl into his voice. He met her gaze deliberately,

"No."

The pain stick came back.

John was left panting for breath. The stick hovering threateningly just in front of his nose, reddish energy crackling between the prongs. It was wildly frustrating, 'cause he could feel her guys hadn't found all his hidden tricks. One of them was chafing his wrist right alongside the damned metal vine sprouting from the wall.

"Changed you mind?"

"No."

The pain stick returned – this time Athena jabbed it into the back of his neck before he'd even recovered from the previous encounter.

It knocked all thought from his mind.

John could hear screaming.

Oh.

It was him.

Finally the stick moved away, John hung by the tendrils harshly securing his wrists, gasping. Minute tremors shook his frame, undermining his attempts to get hold of himself. John spat blood, and tried for blasé,

"Well, that was bracing."

John was betting on the fact that his ATA gene, and his experience using the technology were both too valuable for her to dispose of him the same way she had Joe Spencer. She sneered and the pain stick edged closer yet again.

"There's no use resisting you know. It won't do you, or anyone else any good." Athena smiled triumphantly, "My people successfully subverted Area 51 and your foolish leaders don't know anything about it."

The device was waved under his nose,

"Go to hell."

Athena growled angrily and pressed something on her wrist. This time the probes connected to his skull whited out John's world.

---

Once he started digging around for inconsistencies in the SGC's security, Rodney couldn't quite believe how leaky a boat the SGC's servers were. It was a wonder the programme wasn't public knowledge by now. As well as the open secret that was Lee's backdoor to enable him to play WoW in his labs (when the severely-lacking-in-judgment scientist was waiting for experiments to finish running), Rodney found no fewer than five other workarounds in the firewalls. They were all closed with prejudice by the time he finished hunting them down.

The programme he'd set to chewing its way through the depths of the internet for any sort of chatter about Stargates, Area 51, and planned attacks had borne disturbing fruit too. Rodney had been alarmed to discover a plan for a mass 'Let's go find us some aliens!' protest at Area 51, being organised plain as day on Facebook of all places. Besides sending the details on to the guys at Area 51, whose jobs it was to deal with such stuff, he didn't waste much precious time on it.

Worse still was the SCP Rodney dug up, clearly written by an employee of the programme. Oh, there were no names. No direct references to Goa'uld, Replicators, or the Stargate Programme. But the 'fictional' entry to the Creepypasta-esque site was unmistakably based on the goings on at the SGC. There were too many parallels.

Parasitical leeches that wrap themselves around the victims' brains, and proceed to take charge of the world's governments? Unstoppable mechanical cockroaches that had to be contained in specialised EM field containers lest they eat their way out of the facility integrating the other SCPs as they went? Please. It was so transparent as to be embarrassing.

Rodney easily traced the IP address back to one Dr Caine's home address. For Curie's sake! The guy was in IT! For the love of- it was one thing to forget, but it was just plain embarrassing when the leaker hadn't even bothered to cover up his tracks.

McKay sent his details on to security with no little pleasure.

A few hours later Rodney found out Caine was one of the Za'tarcs everyone was so jumpy about. Which added a frisson of guilty understanding to the doctor's actions, perhaps it had been the closest thing to a cry for help the man could get out there, with the brainwashing hampering him at every turn?

Rodney's programme, tracing back the probable deletions in the security footage he'd spotted earlier was still running. Between the signal snow of the invasion itself, and the hundreds of cameras around the base, it was going to take a while. Especially without access to the speeds of Atlantis's processors.

Meanwhile, Rodney was busying himself beefing up the woeful safety features on the SGC gate. Sure, McKay had broken the Lantean gate a few times himself, but the SGC gate was in the stone age. No wonder the Lucian Alliance were able to get in so easily. Rodney identified and deleted the weakness in the iris code, before adding a few lines of his own, to reinstate some of the safety features a DHD controlled gate would already have. Honestly, McKay liked Carter, he'd made that painfully obvious over the years, but… Would it kill her to take some time out to fix this decrepit mess of ancient 90s-era computing jury rigged to the gate?

He knew the woeful workarounds were hardly her fault, they'd been developed by the American military long before the SGC was a twinkle in General Hammond's eye, but… Carter really should have replaced some of the pitifully designed systems in the meantime. The gate was effectively being manually dialled by physically moving the inner ring every time it was activated.

Then again, hadn't that proven to be a boon that one time the whole network crashed? Perhaps Sam hadn't been so off-piste after- At that thought Rodney guiltily started, Sam hadn't checked in yet.

It was a source of quiet tension around the base. The USS Hammond fell out of contact around the same time as all the chaos here, after reporting a Ha'tak just dropped out of hyperspace. No one heard from them since. Ronon, and a whole host of the Expedition were amongst the members of the ship's manifest.

Yet another worry on top of the already jumpy atmosphere of distrust that came from the fact that a sizeable proportion of the military personnel were locked up in the isolation floors. They were stuck pending confirmation that they weren't brainwashed zombies anymore. The obvious signs of destruction all around the base only added to the general air of unease. McKay fervently wished he were on Atlantis; he couldn't fathom why he'd allowed himself to be talked into coming here.

He'd gotten the news from Radek hours ago, no trace of Sheppard's subcutaneous transmitter on Atlantis's sensors. Which, well… confirmed the worst. Shakily he got back to trying to identify the piece of tech that took out so many of their people. Sheppard was missing, it was a distraction. He'd been missing before. Rodney gulped thickly. He'd been dead before and come back. The infuriating man had more lives than a cat! He was sure the Colonel was sunning it up on a beach somewhere completely oblivious to the stress and pain he was causing his teammates.

They needed to find out if the effects of the device were long lasting or not. Everything he'd seen so far pointed to the effects ending as soon as Satterfield foolishly turned it off. But. There was no way to be certain. Until then, the SGC was down a fifth of its military contingent, and that was ignoring the ongoing clean-up at Area 51 and trying to establish just how many individual attacks there'd actually been. What had they been after? The Odyssey? The chair? Some piece of alien technology?

Someone had tried to snatch Teyla.

Now Teyla, being Teyla had broken them all without so much as breaking a sweat. But still! Teyla! Something fishy was going on, Teyla's description of the men who'd tried to grab her very much implied they were Earth born and raised. Not Lucian Alliance.

Rodney even heard a rumour that the Wormhole Xtreme guy had been targeted, which, no. Just no. It was terrifying that whatever happened had been so very organised, and they'd all been caught completely unawares. Rodney shuddered; it was sheer dumb luck he hadn't been taken, he knew.

The schematics of the device glittered at him mockingly from the screen. It looked Goa'uld alright. Which was the problem really. Primitive as this tech was, McKay's speciality these days was Lantean design, not this poorly engineered nonsense.

Rubbing tiredly at dry eyes, Rodney decided he needed another mind working on the problem. Where was Zelenka when he needed him, the lazy Czech - oh right. Atlantis. Rodney sighed, he should have stayed on Atlantis.

The sub-q issue was infuriating, given that Rodney had had the solution for months, yet the IOA wouldn't allow them to use it. They'd been sitting on a successful encrypted Alteran derived version of the Wraith subspace transmitter for a while. Unable to gain permission to try them out on their own personnel.

As a result, they were reliant on Devlin Tech sub-qs, which were utterly useless off-world. Rodney had no way to trace the signal they put out beyond the range their Daedalus-class ships could detect. There was absolutely no trace of Sheppard, or any other of their missing sheep on Earth.

Rodney was frantically trying to work out if he could recalibrate Atlantis's deep space scanners to hunt for the Earth-made sub-qs, but thus far his theories hadn't met with success. The signal the sub-qs put out was simply too weak to travel through the depths of space. Miko and Radek were both trying their own ideas on Atlantis. But even with the best and brightest members of the Expedition working on the problem, they hadn't found anything.

Rodney wasn't convinced they'd ever find anything either. The signal was simply too weak to make it much beyond the confines of a gravity well, let alone the attenuation all the other loud signal noise out in space added to the mix once – or rather if – it made it past atmosphere; what with pulsars, coronal mass ejections, and even the background radiation of the big bang to compete with.

Deciding his blood sugar was acting up, Rodney left the CCTV clean-up software running, and went to find some sustenance. Things would look clearer on a full stomach.

---

Jake kept a wary eye on the new occupants of the cell block as they were dragged in. He'd been stuck in this hellhole for months; oh, they'd tried to trick him at first. Make him think the IOA finally got their heads out of their collective asses about his usefulness as an asset, but Jake wasn't born yesterday, despite Loki's machinations. He'd seen through their act and ended up down here for his pains.

There were an awful lot of SGC personnel being thrown into the cells. For crying out loud! How incompetent were the people running the show these days? He waited for the Jaffa to leave before risking conversation, he'd learnt that lesson a while ago,

"Everyone alright over there?"

"Who's asking?"

"Jake – who're you?"

"Dr Felger."

"Felger?! Oh for crying out loud!"

"General O'Neill?!"

Wait what?

"General?" Jake repeated warily.

"Oh my god I'm going to have to rescue everyone all over again! Never fear sir! Jay Felger is here!"

The gold bulkhead groaned open arthritically, cutting off Felger mid-boast. A loud mouthy sergeant was thrown into the cells, looking like he'd been on the wrong end of Athena's pain stick.

Crap. Jake used his best officer voice,

"Sergeant! Report!"

There was a nasty glare on the fella's face, but he responded to the tone,

"This bitch is torturing people. That's what's going on. She's got that idiot light bird up there refusing to talk."

Through the grill Jake watched the Sergeant resentfully spit a mouthful of blood on the floor,

"He wouldn't talk no matter what she did. To me, Uncle Joe, that kid, Or…" The expression changed from resentment to grudging respect, "Tough sonofabitch …to him."

Jake grimaced. He had a pretty good idea what that meant. He'd put up with her tender mercies himself. She was nearly as bad as Ba'al.

"Got a name for that Colonel, Sergeant?"

The sergeant's face twisted with suspicion,

"Who're you anyway?"

"Jake O'Neill. Yourself?"

From way down the other end of the row of cells Felger interrupted,

"Don't you know Sergeant Spencer? That's General O'Neill!"

At that the other scientists, at least O'Neill assumed they were geeks, all started shouting over each other at once. At least one of them stridently denying that O'Neill was O'Neill – which. Point.

"Shut up! One at a time guys."

---

Daniel squared his shoulders and prepared to step through the wormhole. Without Vala they'd have to do this the hard way, not that Vala's way was easy, or even reliable. He side-eyed the volunteers who'd offered their services, Teyla Emmagan, leader of the Athosian people, and de facto representative of the Pegasus Galaxy on Earth, Lieutenant James, ex-AFSOC, and stand-in for Colonel Mitchell, and Captain-Doctor Satterfield. It didn't escape Daniel's notice that only one member of the Atlantis Expedition had been allowed off world, despite the obvious strategic advantage in employing experienced gate team members who weren't infamous across the Milky Way as Tau'ri. But what did Daniel know, he'd only been a member of the SGC since before they'd opened the gate. Not that he was bitter or anything.

Emmagan looked remarkably serene as they waited for the gate to dial, though she did turn around and ask,

"Are all gates in this galaxy so… ponderous?"

It took an embarrassingly long time for Daniel to parse her meaning. He had a sinking feeling he'd pulled that pinched, eyebrows raised, face Jack always called his 'spacemonkey' expression, whilst he'd been trying to work it out.

"Oh! That! Well, no, and yes. Milky Way gates are slower than the Pegasus models. But the Earth gate uses a home-made dialling computer rather than a DHD, so it's …slow."

"I see. Thank you, Doctor Jackson."

Behind Teyla, Satterfield wasn't even trying to hide her laughter. Daniel sighed internally; it had been a mistake keeping the surviving members of that trainee team together. Captain-Doctor Satterfield picked up almost all of Captain Hailey's bad habits, and worse, she had a sly sense of the absurd inherited from Lt Grogan, that the more literal Hailey lacked.

With relief Daniel stepped through the event horizon. He hadn't wanted to go on this mission, but the sooner it started, the sooner they'd find their people. The list of the missing was still growing.

---

Vala paced impatiently in her cell. She was getting increasingly concerned about what state they'd drag S.O. back in. If they brought him back. She'd done her best to deflect most of the attention towards herself; Vala had long since learnt the hard way she could take it. And well, the things her hands had done. Better her than anyone else.

Unfortunately for all of them, it hadn't worked. Athena didn't seem interested in Vala for anything more than occasional bursts of casual sadism. The Goa'uld had been telling the truth it seemed. Vala was a victim of opportunity, not design. Vala wasn't holding her breath that the uneasy status quo of mostly going ignored would hold long.

Of the three of them, Sheppard was clearly the focus of her attention. Vala had seen the gleam in the woman's eye as she'd very deliberately chosen S.O. to go 'first'. The woman hadn't paid anywhere near as much attention to Gorgeous when she'd later come to drag him away, proclaiming he was to earn his keep. From what Vala gathered in that all too brief moment of interaction, Rush was forced to work under threat of worsening Sheppard and Vala's conditions if he didn't behave.

The one consolation was, assuming her impressions were correct, Rush was being kept as collateral. And, worryingly, as a spare ATA carrier if what she'd overheard, as the Jaffa muttered to each other in Goa'uld seemingly forgetting she was fluent, was true. Rush hadn't returned to their cell. Though the Jaffa took great joy demonstrating to Vala what she'd be in for if she stepped out of line, so perhaps that was for the best.

Vala felt like crap if she was being honest. Not enough food and water. And all the beatings she could eat. Though nothing that would show to a cursory visual inspection. However, for all her aches and pains, Vala remembered that malicious elation in Athena's expression. She knew Sheppard had it worse.

The lab was monstrous. As thoroughly among the awful things people would do to each other, as the depravities Vala witnessed on Ori-controlled worlds when villagers willingly burned their fellows alive to appease gods they didn't believe in. It matched the level of iniquity the peoples of the Stella Via happily sunk to, when it became apparent the power vacuum the System Lords left behind wasn't about to be filled any time soon.

Vala swallowed back the rage and bile for the umpteenth time as the images of what she'd seen, and what Sheppard said, played out. A lab filled with unspeakable horrors. Rush dragged in, looking, not ill, but far too cynically knowing about the things around him. Sheppard looked awful. Even strung up like a rack of meat, he still conspired to tell them what happened to the bald corpse in there with him.

"For pity's sake John! We have to get out of here! Now!"

"No! We can't go off on this half-cocked."

"Why not? We're all here, aren't we? I say we have a chance."

"Do ye have a secret way out of here you've not told us about? Besides have you seen his wrists? I can't see us working out how to get him free any time soon, can you?"

Vala could have slapped Rush for his sarcasm, but Sheppard interrupted,

"Athena all but told me she's got other prisoners! She shoved that man in my face deliberately. We have to get them out. At any price."

"No! By Seth's snout! Don't ask that-"

"Yes. Just like P8X-412" Vala flinched when Sheppard named the former mining planet that had been her sanctuary, he continued inexorably, "or the Sangraal. You've done it before."

"No." Vala denied.

"You left Jackson behind, didn't you? You can do it again."

His eyes had been pitiless. Vala had wanted to slap Sheppard. He'd thrown that mission back in her face. Only, he hadn't done it to hurt her, at least, not primarily. He'd done it to compel her to let him get hurt. Vala shuddered, she'd seen a lot in her time, from the coldness reflected back at her in S.O's eyes, so had he. But… He'd been right, she understood. Besides, he was still strung up. It wouldn't have been sporting.

Vala swallowed and got back to working on the plan, by tacit agreement from then on they communicated using a mixture of Tau'ri slang and SGC in-jokes, with a few harried hand signals thrown in. She could only hope their captors hadn't understood their babble.

The door whooshed open, and Athena shoved a beautiful blonde into the room.

"Ex-host meet ex-host. Sholva to Qetesh meet sholva to Osiris."

Vala pulled the cloak of con artist around herself, in her most haughty voice she asked,

"And this is supposed to affect me how?"

"I want to use this opportunity learn something from your betrayal."

"Betrayal! I was captured and enslaved! Driven around by a parasite that wrapped itself around my spine, and you wish to speak to me of betrayal!"

"Oh no, not speak. You misunderstand. I wish to test the physiological differences between Tau'ri and non-Tau'ri hosts." Athena's lip curled, "And what better specimens than a Tau'ri dog, and a Stella Via mongrel?"

Vala stared at the newcomer, she was all fiery anger and curls.

"Osiris huh?" Vala turned a sly look on Athena, "How'd that work out for the old bastard?"

Athena's lip curled, "You're right. The fool was a relic. Nonetheless. If you wish your little friends to stay alive," at this Athena looked meaningfully at both Vala and the blonde, "You will do as I command."

"And what's that?" blonde asked, her accent, just like Doctor Ingram's, surprising Vala.

"You will be an example to my Jaffa."

"An example?"

"You shall be slaves cleaning, tidying, washing… Examples of the menial work they shall be expected to carry out should they fail me. And incentive to your friends to keep behaving."

Ba'al's balls! It wasn't very well something Vala could gracefully refuse that was the worst thing. As demands by a Goa'uld went, it was practically reasonable. Hah! Reasonable, Vala had forgotten what normal people considered reasonable years ago. Assuming of course she ever knew, between her father's less than stellar parenting, and the way she'd found herself sold as literal chattel to a Goa'uld not much later, Vala had to wonder if she'd ever encountered 'normal' in her life.

Vala looked up, and realised Athena seemed to be expecting some sort of response,

"Fine." Vala bit out.

---

"Dr Porter? Crap."

"Colonel Sheppard?"

John stared in horror at the mousey Second Wave Lantean who'd been dragged into the lab of nightmares, unable to police his expression through the haze of sheer exhaustion that loomed over everything, even the pain. Athena looked terribly smug,

"I see you know each other. Excellent."

Dammit, Teldy's team were just beginning to get over the loss of Captain Vega, he couldn't let Porter die on his watch. Not after he'd already failed them.

"Well Sheppard? Will you activate the device?"

John eyed the hated bit of Ancient tech, even now he could feel it trying to light up. Through gritted teeth he bit out,

"No."

He tried to keep the denial flat, but his voice cracked midway through the word.

"Pity." Athena turned on Doctor Porter, who was bravely standing her ground, albeit quavering on the spot, "Know this Tau'ri, your suffering is down to him."

The hand device lit up red, Alison started screaming. John jerked forward in the restraints, but they only pulled him tighter against the wall in response to his struggles. Athena turned a cruel grin his way,

"See what happens when you disobey your goddess?"

Athena left them alone in the lab with a self-satisfied sneer. That was a mistake.

John tried to gather the voice of command, Doc Porter had been through How to Survive the Wraith 101, same as everyone else who'd come to Atlantis after the First Year. She should respond to the tone,

"Doc! You alright?"

She kept quietly sobbing, near silent sniffles that made John's heart ache. He felt like a monster,

"Doctor Porter! Snap out of it! I need you with me!"

"Ye- yessir."

Her voice wobbled, but she was back in the room.

"Doc I need you to tell me, how many other prisoners are with you? Did you recognise anyone?"

"They had Doctor Lindsay from Anthropology, and and, Sergeant Cheng? And a load of SGC people, uh Doctor …Gardner, she said she was friends with Doctor Jackson? Sorry, we've been in Pegasus so long, I – there's ten of us."

"No, no that's fine. You're doing great doc. Thank you." John hated to keep pressing, but she was shakily collecting herself even as he was busy feeling guilty, "Which way are they keeping you all?"

"Huh?"

"Where are the cells doc?"

"Oh, we're down near the engine room."

John blinked, "How'd you know that?"

"I studied Goa'uld technology at the SGC before Pegasus colonel, knowing the layout of a Ha'tak was just common sense. It's weird though, those rooms are usually Jaffa barracks. It's so empty."

"You noticed too huh." John tried for reassuring, "Look soon as I work out how, we're going to get out of here. Okay doc? We'll cook something up. Promise."

"O-okay."

"Do you remember the signals we taught you guys?"

She responded in the affirmative using the aforementioned hand signals. Clever doc. Never should have underestimated her.

"Great doc. I want you to keep that in mind, you hear me?"

"Yes colonel."

"Now – you noticed anything else weird about the plac-"

Athena came back in,

"Scheming I see."

Athena sounded amused, John didn't bother denying it,

"Oh sure, we're trying to decide what flavour birthday cake you'd like. We were going to braid each other's hai-"

The expected backhand hurt, but not as much as what followed. The electrodes digging into his skull lit up. John faded out to the sound of Doc Porter begging Athena to stop.

---

"I'm so sorry sir, I have no clue how I got got."

Hank tried not to let the despair show. Strapped to a gurney, drugged to the gills, still trying to fight the conditioning, and Dixon was trying to apologise to him? Landry should be the one apologising; he hadn't even realised there was a problem with his colonel until it was too late. Instead, and hoping to god what he was feeling wasn't showing in his voice, Hank said,

"Don't worry son, it's not your fault. It seems the LA got their hands on some nasty Goa'uld technology. What's the last thing you remember clearly?"

"I – I don' know sir."

He met Carolyn's eyes fearfully, she nodded that the colonel's vitals were holding steady. Trying for encouraging Hank cajoled,

"Think man! Anything at all, no matter how innocuous might help."

Hank watched as Dixon struggled with himself to get the words out, Teal'c coolly added his own brand of encouragement,

"Indeed. The Rite of M'al Sharran is hazardous Colonel Dixon. You shall need to know yourself wholly."

Landry wanted to scold Teal'c for his candour, but the man had been through this. He knew exactly what he was talking about. Eventually Dixon worked up the strength to spit the words out, the effort clearly costing him,

"I – this is gonna put me in a bad light sir."

Hank tried to sound encouraging, "Colonel." He reconsidered, gingerly he patted the man's restrained hand and said, "David."

A tremulous smile flitted across Dixon's face, before the rage suffused him again. It took Carolyn more than ten minutes to find the right combination of drugs and external stimuli to get him nearly lucid. The 180 left Dixon panting and exhausted on the gurney. Voice low, he murmured,

"I remember thinking I was gonna learn that disgrace Sheppard a lesson."

Somehow Hank wasn't surprised,

"Sheppard?"

"Yessir."

Dixon looked shamefaced.

"Nothing serious sir, just a bit o' light hazing, was gonna ask the airmen on KP duty to set aside a special pudding cup for him. If you catch my meaning. I got around to noticing he always took a pudding cup, and I just remember being sure he needed taking down a peg or two. Then – then nothing sir. It's like I'm me, but I'm not me."

Carolyn looked up from where she was monitoring Dixon's vitals, her tone tense,

"General, Colonel Dixon is under some strain."

Her meaningful glare wasn't needed. Dixon looked awful, grey under the sheen of sweat. Landry stepped away from the isolation room feeling dissatisfied with the answers he'd gotten. Or rather the lack of answers. He nodded to his daughter,

"Very well, we'll stop this for now. David, get some rest."

They began to file out of the room, leaving Carolyn to her ministrations,

"There's got to be some other way Teal'c. Yes, we've saved people from the brainwashing before, but we've lost people too. It's too risky. Especially in Dixon's state."

As they got to the doorjamb Dixon called out,

"I almost killed people, hell I think I did kill people sir. It's the least I can do." Even strapped down as he was, twitching spasmodically, underneath the strain the fear was palpable. Dixon swallowed, "Time for some thrilling heroics."

Hank regretted all over again that he'd gotten back to the SGC just in time for this to be the first thing on his docket. He'd barely been able to talk Patricia Armstrong down from going public, and now this.

From the corner of his eye Landry watched Carolyn's expression turn to stone. She hadn't agreed to any of this. She was here under protest. Landry nodded to Teal'c, who'd volunteered himself for this unpleasant task. He'd said, "Just as Bra'tac did this for me, then I shall do this for you Colonel Dixon."

Ever since Master Bra'tac's success in carrying out the Rite of Mal'sharran for Teal'c all those years ago, and the disastrous attempt by the Tok'ra scientist Anise to find a technological method to break the conditioning, Teal'c took it upon himself to carry out the Rite of Mal'sharran whenever the Tau'ri had need of it. It wasn't always successful.

Hank didn't like to think of the toll that self-imposed duty exacted.

Bra'tac was wheeled in, still wheelchair bound, to observe. Despite the danger, the old Jaffa reached out a hand to comfort the colonel,

"This is a brave thing you are doing Colonel Dixon."

Dixon sent a trembling smile in Bra'tac's direction,

"Can't do something smart, then do something right."

Even as Dixon put a brave face on it, the conditioning was visibly taking over. Bra'tac's presence had the colonel straining at his bonds, hands clenching and unclenching as though he wanted to put them around Bra'tac's neck. Hank knew that's exactly what his colonel was trying to do. He hated deliberately putting this group through this, on top of everything else he was asking of them. Landry hustled Bra'tac out of the room, gruffly adding,

"Come on, we'll go to the observation room, for his sake."

Bra'tac nodded in acquiescence and allowed himself to be wheeled off. Hank turned back to Dixon, no Dave, and nodded,

"Good luck son."

Carolyn looked resigned and angry.

---

The ancienty thing was shoved in John's face. He ignored it.

"You bring this on yourself you know." Athena trilled gleefully. "Your resistance achieves nothing; I have people throughout your organisation willing to do my bidding."

John tried not to let that nasty little revelation look as if it hit as hard as it had. But… damn, if she was telling him this, the bitch was confident he wouldn't be escaping any time soon.

"Oh very well." Athena gave a theatrical sigh, "I did warn you."

She turned and snapped at her weedy technician guy,

"Remove the motivators."

John couldn't quite keep the puzzled expression off his face, even as he managed to quash the flinch when her goon came near,

"Don't think you won't be punished for your continued refusal to carry out an extremely simple task. No. I don't want to completely melt your brain in your skull."

The electrode things hurt nearly as much coming out as they had going in. By the time John blinked the tears away, unable to prevent the pain from making his eyes water, he realised they'd lowered the force field on Todd's little cell.

Oh.

Fuck.

Oh no.

John reeled, he blinked rapidly trying to bring the world back into focus, as if that would do him any damned good.

Not again.

Not this.

She snapped her hands, and Todd was dragged forward. John figured they were gonna get around to this. He'd known, the dread had been there ever since he'd seen his old ally eat Joe. But he'd squashed it down in a box. Tried to focus. Fat help now.

It was a good thing the tendrils were holding him up, John's legs had gone to water.

John tried to steady his breathing.

Don't hyperventilate.

Don't let the bitch see you sweat John…

Oh fuck.

In a weird way that other boot finally dropping was almost a relief. The Jaffa uncuffed Todd. Impatiently, Athena bit out,

"Well? Go on!"

"I am sorry John Sheppard."

John found himself focussing intensely on Todd's face. Todd looked awful, he looked almost as bad as when they'd both been Kolya's captives. John caught himself fixating on the wraith's familiar tattoo. It was as if his body knew he was unlikely to be around for much longer, so was trying to absorb every little detail it could in one last sensory hurrah. John realised the seemingly solid design was actually made up of thousands of tiny dots. With a mouth gone dry John forced himself to reply around the bile trying to rise up his throat,

"Me too Todd, me too."

Todd hesitated, with his hand over John's chest, John scowled, Athena shifted angrily behind the wraith.

Much as he didn't want to admit it, John didn't want to make things worse for the guy.

Even as his heart damn near hammered itself out of his chest, John forced himself to bite out,

"Get on with it."

Todd took him at his word.

The hand slammed down.

The pain was worse than he remembered.

It was as indescribably awful as it had always been – the mind tended to skitter away from memories like that – the agony of having your life ripped out through your chest. Worse than electricity, worse than hot cigarettes snuffed out on skin, worse than a helo crash, worse even than the sharp agony of broken bones, going down with your flight suit doused in inflammable hydraulic fluid and flames licking up… No… Nothing compared to this. Just pure torturous suffering at a cellular level.

Todd stopped; John slumped forward in his bonds panting through the torment. Tremors and aftershocks shook his frame.

"Now, are you ready to obey your goddess?"

The hated piece of Ancient tech was brought closer, after checking it was inactive, John let his head collapse back down to his chest and ignored the bitch's attempts to gain his attention. John was too busy trying to put together the shredded remnants of his psyche to pay the snake any mind.

---

"Open the airlock."

TJ watched with heart in mouth as the nearest alliance thug moved to do just that, Dr Simm's, lying insensate on the floor, barely seemed to register the danger. A rude blart sounded from the airlock. The alliance member turned a panicked glance Kiva's way as she turned a questioning look at him,

"Well?"

"The… The door won't open!"

Beside her, TJ realised the Lantean Sergeant had re-joined their little group. She hadn't even realised he'd been gone. She risked a quick glance; Stackhouse looked grimly satisfied.

"What happened?"

"I don't know!"

Impatiently Kiva demanded,

"Well, find out."

TJ watched with growing disbelief as the panel next to the airlock was pried open, and the mess of circuitry was revealed. Now, Tamara was no engineer. But even she could see the gaping void in the mess of torn cabling probably wasn't supposed to be there.

"The… The circuits are just… gone!"

Kiva glared coolly at her subordinate,

"You know the cost of failure."

Without another word she levelled her gun and shot him. The momentum sent her stumbling back a step, but she recovered quickly.

Casually, as if she hadn't just shot one of her own men in front of them, Kiva turned to the prisoners,

"Who sabotaged the controls?"

No one spoke up.

"If the perpetrator does not step forward, and fix what they did within the next few minutes you will all be punished."

Kiva's men forced personnel to line up against the wall,

"No one?" she asked, "No one is willing to stand up?"

With a sly smile, one of Kiva's seconds, a ferrety looking individual Tamara instinctively distrusted levelled his weapon. At that, the Lantean Sergeant stepped forward,

"I did it."

"Fix it."

Stackhouse scoffed derisively, "Of course not!"

Kiva nodded towards him, "Simeon. You know what to do."

The skinny guy stepped forward, and with a cruel twist to his mouth said,

"With pleasure."

"I don't think you want to do that."

"And why should I care what you think Tau'ri?"

Stackhouse gave her a mocking grin, as if he wasn't facing off against a cold-blooded killer, but taking a stroll in a park, "Well… For a start I'm Top Sergeant of the Expedition. I'm one badass motherfucker… and for another, if you do, nothing will stop Ronon from ripping your head off. In the unlikely event he fails? Well, there's a whole galaxy that knows better than to cross my CO. And when he finds out about this…"

Stackhouse made a lunge for Simeon. Kiva drew her gun. A loud bang reverberated throughout the storage room.

In the chaos Carter's voice came over the intercom,

"This is Carter to all personnel. Code Icarus. I repeat Code Icarus. This is not a drill."

The voice distracted Kiva long enough for Stackhouse to make a grab for her gun. There was blood floating all around them. TJ couldn't tell who's it was. Personnel began discreetly backing away from the viewport at the other end of the room, the stench that still wreathed the room suddenly came into horrible focus.

"Look out!" TJ shouted, Simeon was taking aim.

"Dex, don't make me repeat myself! Make way to the central corridor! That's an order!"

Somehow Stacks managed to push Kiva back towards the window. She flew across the room in the microgravity.

The room lit up violently white.

As the afterimages faded away, TJ realised Kiva had been near the viewport, her entire left side was a charred blackened mess.

Kiva's radio started chattering,

"Kiva, we've just lost contact with the Ha'taks."

Simeon was the one who responded,

"What?"

He rounded on them all, gun raised. Then smiled slowly.

Stackhouse staggered away from the other man, from his stance awkwardly clinging to the bulkhead. He was the source of the blood.

Kiva groaned and hauled herself upright. It was a slow terrible ascent; TJ didn't know how the other woman could stand. Skin crackled and spalled as she used the bulkhead to inch into something resembling standing,

"Want me to shoot him boss?"

"No," Kiva looked TJ's way, and caught her gaze, "Not him."

---

Albert eyed Teal'c, assessing the Jaffa for any signs of distress.

"You sure about this?"

Teal'c nodded,

"I am."

"Right."

As officer of the day, and Landry's 2IC, Reynolds wanted to be the one to make sure Dixon was treated fairly in all this, but now he was here, facing the very real possibility the other man would be dead soon. He felt sick.

Teal'c intoned solemnly,

"Know yourself David Dixon."

"Dave. You sure?"

"We need to work this out, these are stone killers little man, they ain't cuddly like me."

As she finished setting up the Liverpool Pathway style gear around Dixon, Lam pursed her lips from behind Dixon's head and said,

"Teal'c, as soon as you think it's done, tell me. I'll need to treat the colonel as soon as possible, otherwise we risk brain damage, or worse."

They got down to the unpleasant business. Teal'c nodded solemnly at her somewhat patronising attempt to insert some level of medical ethical practice to the situation, rather than reacting negatively. Albert had to give the guy kudos for that. He wasn't sure he'd have the same patience in his shoes.

The next few hours were some of the most tense Reynolds ever lived through. And Albert had been pinned down by a sniper. Dixon was getting no water, or medical support, beyond the immediate monitoring to make sure he wouldn't die right there on the table.

"Know yourself Colonel Dixon."

Teal'c's low litany was the only source of calm in the room.

Everything culminated in Lam's strained,

"Colonel, this is getting dangerous. His blood pressure is too high, I'm worried he's going to stroke!"

Dixon got out between pants,

"I'm no good with words, don'… don't use em much myself but I gotta do this doc.".

Albert watched with sympathetic horror as the conditioning dragged his fellow colonel under again. They'd gone through three rounds of this already, how much more could Dixon take?

With a roar Dixon managed to tear out of the restraints, blood, and worse, running down from his wrists as he lunged for Lam. Reynolds tried to grab Dixon, his recently healed arm gave a warning twinge as he made the attempt but he grappled with the larger man. Dixon thrashed wildly, there was a sharp pain, Reynolds' arm gave from under him. He cried out at the sudden sharp heat and lost all sense of time and place.

By the time he worked through the pain, it was too late.

Dixon jumped for Lam. SFs fired.

Dixon was dead.

Albert stared down at his vacant eyes and tried not to be sick.

Lam glared up at the observation window between her desperate attempts to treat the man lying there on the ground, beyond help. Reynolds followed her gaze and spotted General Landry looking as if he wanted to shoot something, or someone.

---

"Seriously, if any of us was going to be recognised I wouldn't have expected it to be you Captain."

Daniel backtracked when he saw the expression on her face, "Er, no offence. It's just the Lucian Alliance have been sticking up bounties on SG-1 for years now."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't SG-1 that came up with that cross-pollinating crop that made Kassa less addictive was it?"

"That was you?"

"Yes, well, no, I'm no botanist. I was on the team that went out and contaminated the entire crop on one of the primary growing worlds." Satterfield nodded at Teyla, "I think some of Atlantis's scientists did most of the legwork on that one."

Jackson whistled. Teyla, a woman Daniel was growing to respect more every passing moment, took up the burden of keeping the conversation flowing.

"Captain Satterfield? How did they get the drugs into the food source?"

"Didn't you get the reports out in Pegasus Teyla? That crop contains a dangerously addictive psychoactive drug that the Lucian Alliance use to keep the populations of the Milky Way firmly under thumb."

"Oh, yes I remember now." Teyla looked amused, then saddened, she clarified, "Colonel Sheppard and Doctor McKay argued for hours about whether Kassa could be equated to a drug the… Jem'hadar… were all forcibly addicted to by their masters."

That did it, Satterfield spiritedly started in on the discussion herself, even as James chivvied them towards the safety of the gate. Daniel distracted himself from the trudge by running over that strange musical puzzle Doctor Rush forwarded to him in his mind's eye, trusting in the women around him to alert him if their pursuers came close.

---

Feeling more awake, if not actually refreshed, Rodney swapped over to working on the Asgard Core problem on his Expedition laptop. The familiarity of his old foe was something for his conscious mind to keep busy, whilst his subconscious chewed over the Za'tarc problem, and the scarier likelihood that all these sneaky little security issues he'd been finding all over the place far pre-dated the attack.

The security footage recovery programme grumbled on quietly to itself in the background, edging ever closer to completion. Rodney wished he were on Atlantis with Zelenka. Even with the way they were all stumped by the current situation, there would be other tasks to occupy his mind as they waited for programmes to run and inspiration to strike.

Rodney poked desultorily at the metallurgical problem, the only part of the Asgard Core he'd bothered to download from Atlantis's servers. They'd been trying to use the Asgard Core to replicate Alteran alloys that were difficult to categorise metallurgically, let alone recreate. Before the whole world turned on its head, they'd been halfway to making some sort of tangible, physical, progress. A tiny cube of the bronze coloured alloy that made up the hulls of Puddlejumpers sat proudly on the Asgard plinth in the huge, chaotic, space underneath the chair room, below the waterline.

They'd been on verge of affecting, real, actual repairs and replacements, rather than the slapdash workarounds held together with duct tape and positive thinking that the Expedition had been scarily reliant upon over the years. They'd been this close to repairing the damaged hyperdrive array, out on the asteroid-pocked pier. Rodney had been hopeful their success would mean the IOA would finally capitulate and permanently assign a BC-304 to Atlantis, instead of insisting the Daedalus perpetually commute between galaxies …Then all this rained down on them.

A voice broke through his reverie,

"No, that's mistranslated – the rune there means less than not small."

Rodney was already preparing a retaliatory volley so severe it would leave the interloper crying like a little girl, when he realised they were right. Hastily he typed in the correction, then turned to face the intruder. It was Ingram. Surprised, he blurted,

"You read Asgard?"

"Ancient Norse actually, but it's close enough for government work."

"Wha- why?"

McKay's confused question was met with a wall of babbling information. Rodney quickly began to get a hint of how other people must feel around him when he went off on one of his pet subjects, only to be met with the glassy blank-eyed stare of people who hadn't absorbed anything he'd said in the last five minutes.

"It was a great excuse to drink mead out of a horn at Formals instead of wine." Ingram scuffed at the concrete floor with his ridiculous sneakers, "And, well I was a Tolkienite, Norse was close to Dwarven and Quenya was so… ordinary."

"Yes, yes. Whatever. Shouldn't you be working right now?"

Ingram looked sanguine, "No one seems to think my skillset is very useful at the moment."

"Engineer right?"

Ingram nodded,

"Speciality in Materials, and Metallurgy."

"Oh, excellent." Rodney shoved over a micrograph of the sample of probable Puddlejumper hull metal, polished to within a micron of its life, and then etched with anything that would get a contrast on the grain structure. They'd ended up bombarding it with alpha particles. Nitric acid barely made a dent,

"See what you make of this then."

"Oh, fascinating. Signs of deliberate structural inclusions. This is more than just work hardening I can tell. But what would they have been put there to resist?"

"Radiation in hard vacuum."

"You mean?"

"Oh yes, we think this is what the Ancients used to make the hulls of their spaceships!"

"Wow."

Rodney guiltily watched the software compiling the security camera footage, and the group chat where Lee, Volker, Brody and Park were all loudly (the text had devolved to caps lock…) 'discussing' (arguing) whether this component, or that component in the brainwashing grenade was the source of the brainwashing wave or not. If he weren't so embarrassed about his utter lack of a clue, he'd be chastising them all for wasting precious time, people were missing, and they'd been talking in circles since before he'd gone to sort out his blood sugar.

He turned and pointed out a few of the key features on the micrograph that, okay, Rodney could admit it, Zelenka had pointed out to him (What, he was an astrophysicist not a metallurgist!), earning excited coos from Ingram in the process. Rodney was just on the verge of revealing that this was one of the less exciting alloys they'd managed to replicate, when the computer pinged.

The neural net, that had been so useful in helping him break down the components of the Replicator Code when he'd been racing to make FRAN paid dividends again.

This time it had been set to extrapolate after-effects of the brainwashing grenade.

With a 99.99% recurring certainty, the programme seemed to believe there were none.

That was good news. Which, Rodney was well-aware, they were in short supply of these days. He grabbed his laptop and rushed to O'Neill's office with the evidence. Behind him Ingram gawped stupidly at his hasty exit.

---

Cam poked miserably at the brace around his knee. He wanted to be out there, looking for their missing people. For Sam. Vala. And hell, Sheppard. Cam had been right there when he'd been snatched, he'd been as much use as a damned canary.

But no, thanks to his knee he was stuck on civilian duty.

Cam looked up questioningly at the SF hurriedly making way towards them.

So far the people at area 51 had given him and Sheppard a wide berth.

"Sergeant Riley?" Cam asked questioningly, spotting the nametag.

"Sir, we've got a problem."

Cam hastily gestured towards his leg and the civilian he was escorting, before limping away from the elder Sheppard brother, and hissing,

"And? What is it?"

"We just got to the Wraith's cell sir."

With a sinking feeling Cam asked hopefully,

"What, was it squashed flat in all the fighting?"

"Nossir, when we cleared the debris. The cell was empty sir."

"Crap."

So much for that idea.

---

Rush twiddled his thumbs uselessly as he tried to run up the clock. He hated this. Hated the abject fucking worthlessness of his actions, but as things stood, he had no fucking choice.

It had been made quite fucking clear what would happen should he dare get it into his head to disobey. Rush did not want to be responsible for anyone else getting hurt under his watch. Not least because it would be wholly his fault, wholly preventable if he'd just been a good little boy and done what he was fucking well told. Ah tae hell with it. This was absolutely untenable.

He couldn't work under these conditions, with the forehead tattooed thugs glaring at every little move he made.

Breaking into Colson Industries was pitiably easy. Nick procrastinated as long as he could, but, eventually even his nerve ran out, and he broke into the company's network. Rush had taken a look around before informing his escort he was finished with his task. Aside from some plane schematics, he was none the wiser about what Athena could possibly want with the corporation. After a considerable delay, involving slop that couldn't even be called gruel, the next company he was routed towards was Devlin Medical Technologies. Thankfully, their encryption wasn't anywhere near as outdated as Colson Inc's, so Rush was able to actually stall for time properly.

Still, least they were feeding him. It wasn't good. The guy who'd brought in his bowl of suspiciously coloured sludge noticed Nick's hesitation, reached a filthy paw into the glop, and eaten a handful himself to prove it wasn't poisoned. Rush wasn't entirely convinced it hadn't been toxic, but better he risk some sort of drug, than wither away uselessly like some effete Mills & Boon heroine who wouldn't know how to fend for herself if the tools to do stood up in front of her and danced a little jig.

He fucking hated this.

Aside from the constant presence of the glowering guards, the only human contact he had was when they dragged Vala in as proof of life. She… She didn't look okay, Rush suspected he was far fucking from it himself, but she was whole. Vala used the brief moments of contact to try and communicate with him, thus far all Nick had established was, she was alive, and there might be other prisoners held here with them, just as Sheppard said. It was either that or she'd been trying to mime that she'd entered a fucking polyamorous relationship whilst he'd been locked up in here.

Nick finally realised the idiots watching him didn't understand more than the very basics of what he was doing. Though to be fair, not that the wee fuckers deserved it, neither had most of the people at the SGC either. It allowed him to up the ante on the deliberate trail he was leaving as he tore through corporate firewalls the world over. If the fuckers wouldn't spot it even if it sauntered straight up to them and punched them in the face, then Rush was going to take advantage of their fucking ignorance.

Nick's trail of breadcrumbs jumped from Mersenne Primes left in the comments of the software Athena was having him crack, to full on comments in sarcastic Gaelic, cursing everyone at the SGC and their mothers. His attacks on corporate domains got sloppier. Limited only to the sites the router allowed, Nick couldn't do anything so blatant as send an email calling for help, but he'd been forced to lower his estimates of the SGC's security abilities twice already. He'd left some fair fucking obvious trails back to this IP, yet nothing. Rush had severely overestimated the competence of the people he'd be up against.

For all his stalling, Nick was a hair's breadth away from cracking into Devlin Medical Technologies internal servers. He hadn't intended to get into Colson Industries so soon either, but their network was so pitiably outdated Nick hadn't been able to help it. He sincerely hoped he hadn't just doomed them all, by giving Athena access to state secrets. That'd be yet another link in the ever-growing chain of them that made up his misdeeds, right up there next to not being at Gloria's bedside at the end.

---

Aside from the hidden beatings Athena's Jaffa took up as a form of sport, Vala's hands had gone past cracked and dry to outright bleeding. The harsh chemicals she was forced to use to clean what looked like decades worth of grime out of the Jaffa barracks with her fellow ex-host were caustic in the extreme. Still, it did mean she had the run of the area. As well as mapping the barracks for any potential way out, Vala had taken to squirreling away supplies whenever the other woman's back was turned. As the X-files said: Trust No One.

Her respite each day was getting dragged back to the cells. Which, was pretty pathetic, but, she was Vala Mal Doran. She'd figure a way out of this.

The door hissed open. Vala was horrified when Sheppard was dragged in, looking decades older. She meant it literally, not in the metaphorical sense. The goons dumped his body in the next cell, as if he were a butchered carcass.

There was an oopf of pained breath. Vala released a breath of her own, he was alive. He looked like a corpse, but he was alive. That was more than she could say for Rush. It had been too long. She should probably visit him, Athena hadn't expressly forbidden her from seeing him, and Vala did more or less have the run of the barrack levels where Rush was being kept.

Ignoring her own aches and pains, Vala crouched down near the bars and started humming the lullaby that always comforted her as a child, back when her mother was around. In separate cells as they were, it was the only form of reassurance Vala could offer. She hugged herself as she examined the damage the wraith inflicted. Of course, Vala had seen the reports, but she'd never truly understood the horror of it. Oh, she'd thought she had, in an intellectual way, but it was another to truly comprehend it at a visceral level.

Vala was worried about how laboured Sheppard's breathing was, but there was nothing she could do. With a groan, watery eyes met her own.

"Hi Beautiful."

Vala's quiet whisper was shockingly loud in the claustrophobic space.

"Hey."

Even his voice was ruined, the high-pitched whistling croak of an old man. Vala tried not to let her dismay show, if this was the fate that awaited them, they'd never make it out of here.

"I need you…"

"Hush."

That earnt her a glare. He weakly shoved his wrist towards her through a hole in the grill separating the cells, Vala gasped in sympathy at the bloodied flesh, the wounds were deep.

"No." Vala heard the impatience, the stony glare he shot her made her rear back even as he shoved his wrist closer and said, "Not important. Look."

Vala gradually realised S.O. wanted her to take the fat black bracelet from around his wrist. Hesitantly, wary of Sheppard's injuries, Vala realised there was something tucked inside the filthy fabric. Making sure to obscure what she was doing, in case anyone was watching, Vala teased out a thin coil of what eventually turned out to be garotte wire from the blood saturated band.

At first, Vala was puzzled that it hadn't been picked up by a search, all metal would have been detected, before she realised, it wasn't garotte wire, but an incredibly long spool of extremely fine rope, woven into a bracelet.

"Got anywhere you can hide that?"

Vala took the rope cum bracelet, tucked it in the bundle of hair ties adorning her wrist, then replaced Sheppard's fat black band on his wrist. Even ruined as he was, Sheppard was still trying to make plans, he asked,

"Look, can you tell me anything about what to expect? General layout? What's liable to happen with these snakehead assholes, anything?"

"Well, this looks like a Ha'tak. But the design is different from any I've ever seen, and believe me Qetesh got around. If you know what I mean."

S.O. wheezed out a laugh. Good, he could still find humour.

"We need to work out what that bitch is doing with Rush. And where she's got anyone else."

"Well Beautiful, that worm Athena is trying to shame me as an ex-host, along with another poor unfortunate by making us clean the accommodations. We've very nearly got the run of the place."

"Oh, great."

"Yes, let's use her arrogance against her shall we?"

John grinned back tiredly, "Yes these little cleaning mice bite."

---

Agent Bates couldn't believe the orders coming from on high. He'd signed up as an agent of the IOA in order to still make a difference even when he could no longer be a sergeant. But this? This was monstrous. The IOA were advocating giving up on not only The Hammond and the people they currently had missing on the ground, but the Expedition too. They were planning to use the chaos that only now was beginning to show the ripples, as another nail in the coffin against the fight for Pegasus. A fight Bates knew was crucial to the protection of Earth, from painful first-hand experience.

This had a nastier bent to it than Landry's usual rivalry with the other SGC base. There was something more going on here than Sheppard's inability to make nice with the higher-ups. Oh, don't get him wrong, Bates had never truly seen eye to eye with the man who'd been his CO once upon a time. But differences aside, he'd been a decent commander, and he'd seen them all through a year Bates was under no illusions should have ended in their deaths. Much as he still thought Sheppard was a reckless chair force kid, Eugene was self-aware enough to recognise that much of his personal stance on the man was coloured by the late Colonel Sumner's less than impressed attitude with a perceived washout who should have been out of the Air Force, and instead been lumped on him and the expedition.

Frowning at old loyalties and this new world of espionage he was moving in, Eugene traced back the source of the illegal orders to an office in the accounting department of the IOA. Screw it, there'd been no love lost between them back in the day, but Sheppard came through for them in the end. Now it was Bates' turn to have his back.

He ran through his options, who to forward this highly suggestive set of orders to? Someone within the SGC obviously, but no one in the IOA's pocket, much as Bates worked for them these days. After a moment of thought he struck upon it, of course. Even now, over four years since he'd been invalided out of the service, Eugene was still in touch with her. Those sorts of bonds were closer than family.

Eugene logged into his old Expedition account and forwarded himself the information using the old Lantean encryptions. He'd do the rest from his personal computer; it was too risky to do anything else here even with the Pegasus Special protection on the data.

---

Sheppard tried to resist, but Jaffa were like Ronon on steroids. Their strength was closer to wraith than human, and he'd just been fed on by a wraith to boot. He blearily lifted his head and tried to give Vala a reassuring look as he was pulled from the cells, and grinned darkly when he spotted the chemicals she'd been forced to grab hold of, to angrily scrub the grime encrusted walls. Habitually John tried to memorise the route. The new location was halfway between what he'd come to think of as his cell, and the lab of Doctor Moreau Athena was running.

Oh, what a surprise, more cells.

John felt slow and heavy, he couldn't quite work out why they'd thrown him in here.

"Excuse me? Sir? Are you alright?"

John rolled over and repressed a groan. He slurred out,

"I've been fed on by Todd, whaddya think?"

"Colonel Sheppard?!"

Whoever that was, they sounded pretty dismayed.

"Yeah… It's me."

"You. You're so old."

At that John lifted his head up and glared in the direction of the voice,

"Not my first rodeo…" He squinted, cursing the damage Wraith feeding brought with it, if this was as similar to aging as it looked, John was dreading his dotage, he could barely see anything, "…Dr Palmer?"

"Yes Colonel."

The geologist looked disturbed. John was disturbed she was here at all.

"How'd they get you? Weren't you supposed to be assigned to the beta site?"

"Yeah, well, I was at the SGC waiting for the Hammond to be done with its shakedown tour."

"Damn." John got out feelingly. That bit.

"I'll say Sheppard."

"Spencer? That you?"

John hated how weak his voice sounded.

"You know I thought you were a cold bastard when you wouldn't save Uncle Joe. But… She was never going to let him go, was she?"

John sighed, "No… No, she wasn't."

"How'd she do it?" John guessed 'it' referred to his sudden onset old age, he was saved from having to answer by another question, "Why'd she put you in here anyway?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say demoralise you all. Make you think twice about escape."

"Never fear Colonel! I'll get us out!"

"Felger?!"

John winced. He'd recognise that strident voice anywhere. (Why Felger of all people?) He chewed his lip worrying about how many of their people had gotten caught up in this. Damn. They'd really gotten hold of a lot of their guys. First Doc Lindsay's group, now this lot.

"Colonel… Sheppard?"

That was a new voice. Someone he didn't know. But sorta familiar.

John cautiously asked,

"Yes?"

"You doing okay?"

John tiredly bit out,

"I've been fed on by a wraith, so no, it's not my best day." He regretted his snappy tone immediately, "Sorry. Like I said, not at my best."

Heaving himself up, John managed to get upright, and started doing his damned job,

"Alright people. Roll call. Who's here?"

Predictably Felger was first,

"Dr Felger sir!"

"Palmer here. But you knew that already."

"Dr Franklin."

John was startled into chattiness,

"Oh! Famous botany guy! Parrish was talking about how you revolutionised the classification of non-terrestrial genus. He was really impressed you know. He wanted you for Lantis."

Silence loomed.

"What? Oh, come on, you try not to get distracted when you've been through this crap so often."

John was saved from further attempts to justify himself by the mouthy Sergeant speaking up,

"Sergeant Spencer."

There was still a worrying simmer of anger in the guy's voice, but then John really couldn't blame the guy. John let his Uncle die. That familiarly unfamiliar voice spoke up again,

"Um, Jake O'Neill."

"No one else in here I should know about?"

"There were people in other cell blocks Colonel. I saw them before they split us all up. I think we passed two other groups?"

That was Palmer again, she was surprisingly good at this.

"Damn." John groaned, "That complicates things."

"No one else in here but us."

"Okay good. Now, no offense guys but I'm gonna need you to prove that you are who you say you are before we start trying to make plans or anything."

"Make plans?! You look about ninety!"

"Gee thanks Franklin, I hadn't noticed. Okay, even though I know you're you – any way you can prove it?"

The next few minutes were spent negotiating how to prove no one was a plant. Palmer recognised and vouched for Franklin. Franklin disgruntledly admitted that he knew who Spencer was. Everyone knew Felger. And all the SGC personnel knew about the fifth time that Cam Mitchell lost his pants, and just what Vala had been doing with a tub of frosting and a chicken that day.

A snort from the one voice John hadn't readily identified,

"O'Neill was it? Any relation? And any way to prove you're you?"

"Well… Considering the damned Asgard cloned me, not really."

"That leaves us in a bit of a pickle then, doesn't it?"

"Well, no offense Sheppard I don't know you from Adam. How am I supposed to know you are Colonel Sheppard and not some old creep pretending to be him?!"

Palmer snidely interrupted, saving John from having to respond,

"Haven't you seen the training video? He looks just like he did last time."

The voice sounded gratifyingly horrified,

"Wait this has happened before? And there's video?"

"Like I said. Not my first rodeo."

"But a video?!"

"Hey, it wasn't my idea. Nothing I could do, the brass were all for it."

"Oh for crying out loud! I'm gonna have to have a word with someone if I ever get out of here. That just isn't right."

Sheppard decided to take a chance. Odds were he wouldn't get another opportunity anyway, Athena just hadn't been able to resist this new psychologically sadistic attempt to wear everyone down with what she'd done to him. Hopefully, that would prove to be her downfall.

"Hey, O'Neill, can you reach through the bars?"

"Yes?"

"Can you reach my belt?"

"Why'd I want to do that? You turning into some sort of perv in your artificial old age?"

John forced himself not to bite back, he was barely getting any air into his lungs as it was,

"No. There's a ceramic knife built into the buckle."

"Oh."

O'Neill 2.0 squeezed his arm through the gold grill and slipped the knife out of its sheath.

"Huh, nifty."

"Yeah, now, give it to Palmer. She knows how to palm stuff."

"Hey!"

"What?" John realised what he'd just said, "Oh not like that, I know Ronon taught you a few of his tricks last time we were on base."

"Oh. Yeah. Well, he wanted to learn how to set snares American style, figured it was a fair trade to learn the Pegasus way."

"Yeah…" John tried to get comfortable, and gave it up as a bad job, "So, here's what we're going to do…"

With a few surprisingly astute interruptions from Palmer, and some less surprising contributions from O'Neill 2.0 and Spencer, they had themselves the beginnings of a plan. John only hoped he'd live long enough to execute it. Between Vala's access to noxious chemicals, and the tricks he'd smuggled to the others, John figured they might just get out of this.

At one point during the discussion Franklin blew up at him again,

"For pete's sake man! Okay, ignoring the fact that you can't currently do anything. Don't you give a damn about your own welfare?"

John immediately rejoindered, "I'm military, that little luxury waved bye bye a long time ago. It's my job to keep you guys safe."

He'd probably imagined the weird look on O'Neill 2.0's face at that one. But decided to ignore it in favour of continuing the planning. In the end the only thing they settled on, was that the signal to create hell was probably going to be a fire.

---

Rush planted the latest trail of breadcrumbs leading back to this IP address. Thus far no one had the fucking intelligence to trace his, frankly amateurish, break-ins. Surely someone would be able to locate him at some point? It was ridicu-fucking-lous; he'd been leaving metaphorical neon flashing signs all over the place, and still no one cottoned on. Nick was losing what little faith he'd had left in the authorities the longer this dragged on.

Rush watched with disgust as the Jaffa set to guard him wandered off, scratching at his rear end as he did so. In better circumstances he'd use the opportunity to stage an escape attempt, get a message out or something. As it was, Rush's crippled computer was still slaved to the other desktop, and, whilst clearly lacking in personal hygiene, his guard had possessed the foresight to lock Nick out of everything before he'd left. P=NP or not, it would take a considerable length of time to break into the other desktop. Not least because the other computer's system was in Goa'uld, a language Nick wasn't exactly fluent in. He hadn't a clue how to get to the computer's root directory, or find the command line with its utterly foreign OS. Nick sighed to himself,

"My life has become a single, ongoing revelation that I haven't been cynical enough."

Vala rushed in, all nervous energy and suspicious glances. Given that, from what Rush heard she was an experienced con-woman, such overtly nervy behaviour from her was alarming to say the least.

"Here, take this Gorgeous."

"What?"

"Take it!" She hissed at him, a coil of thin black rope was shoved into his unresisting hands. "Sheppard got it out of there, so I'm giving it to you."

"And what tae fuck do you expect me to do with it?"

"Hide it!"

"Where? For what purpose?"

"We're going to break out, I promise you. Sheppard is working on getting all the groups of us together."

"Groups?"

"Yes, Athena has more than one set of prisoners here."

"Shite. He was right then? Am I to take it Sheppard could have gotten out but chose not to?"

"No, he's not entirely stupid. He's as trapped as we are. But he's very much focusing his efforts on working out where the others are, rather than how to get out."

Rush's grimace probably said it all, Vala responded,

"I know. We've been trying to work out where they are, and how to get control of this Ha'tak. I'm hiding the cleaning chemicals. We're going to find a way out."

Rush attempted to parse that mess, he swallowed when he spotted Vala's damaged hands. Quietly Nick heard himself ask,

"What makes ye so sure it is a Ha'tak?"

Vala gave an exaggerated look around, "The architecture? Classic Goa'uld pyramid."

Still feeling detached he asked,

"Hadn't you noticed hen? No engine noises. No hum, no vibrations, nothing."

Vala cocked her head, listening, then looked thoroughly alarmed. Rush was glad she agreed with his assessment, but she seemed none-the-fucking-wiser about what they'd do now either. The moment broke. Hurriedly, Nick stuffed the rope into the cuff of his filthy sleeve,

"Aright, I'll hide this. But we need more than ye hiding some cleaning supplies! For fuck's sake! We had more to work with when we were just trying to embarrass Kavanagh."

"I know. But, come on Gorgeous, you did that with such style. Surely you can work wonders with bleach."

"Well, yes. Chlorine gas for one. But that isn't the fucking point and you know it!"

Vala leaned right into his personal space, Nick caught a whiff of bleach and sweat as she vehemently bit out,

"Look, I've been getting this stuff out for days now, at great personal risk too. I know how to cook up a thing or three, but Nick come on. We can't let all this be for nothing."

"Oh fine. For fuck's sake! I'll help, of course I will, did you think I wouldn't?" He asked hurt, "I wannae get out of here as much as you do ye daft cow!"

Rush reconsidered, and slipped the black bracelet onto his arm, next to his watch. He muttered darkly,

"I'm already doing my bit you know."

"Oh I'd worked it out."

There was no questioning in her voice, no hesitation, just confidence that Nick was pulling his weight. Vala squeezed his hand apologetically. Nick swallowed thickly and tried to shoo the exasperating woman out of the door,

"Get out of here, I don't know how long it'll be before Tweedlecunt gets back, and it'll be the worse for both of us if he catches you."

They exchanged a look as Vala hurried away, Rush wasn't sure what was on his face, but he suspected it mirrored hers. Vala's expression was filled with determination, and no little amount of fear as the slipped out.

---

Sam fired the sublights on fullburn, away from the deadly solar system she'd deliberately allowed the Hammond to drift into. The Hammond reached the relative safety of the outskirts just in time; a second blast of deadly radiation whited out the sensors momentarily, just as the ship made it to the void between star systems.

Sam hurriedly rechecked the crew's status on the line to the security station they'd jury-rigged. They had to do this in one-shot. Miss any stragglers, and this gambit would all be for nothing. Carter focused through the haze, everywhere on the ship the situation was the same. The emergency lighting was dim through the smoke that was getting everywhere. The air thick with the smell of burnt wiring, even now back in the system where they'd been ambushed, far from the outer hull and the damage the pulsar wreaked on the Hammond's systems.

Sam pinpointed the location of the last of the Alliance invaders with a grim sense of satisfaction. With a final desperate string of code, the plan was a go. Sam nodded at Novak, who ran her own eye over Sam's section of the code and said,

"It's ready."

There were no hiccups in evidence Sam distractedly realised.

Did she have the right? She flicked the security console back to the rooms the Alliance held, assessing the tactical situation. Well, those of them Sam could see. There was nothing but dead cameras on much of the rear aft side of the ship. Carter swallowed back nausea, unwilling to think too deeply about precisely what that meant.

Kiva and her people still held a sizeable percentage of her crew hostage in the port side storage bay. Kiva herself was being operated on by Johansen the green medic. Ironically, the woman's previous brutality towards Doctor Simms meant she'd get no first-class treatment. Kiva's first was down for the count. This was probably the best shot they were going to get. But the damnable woman had more than enough seconds to remain a threat. The big bald guy Ronon had run all over the ship was among those unaccounted for, and too many Lucian Alliance members had proven willing to kill at any sign of resistance. Ronon… Sam didn't know what his fate was. Nothing was working in those compartments.

Sam ran a quick eye over Novak's last-minute additions to the code. This would take care of their little hacker too. Novak had doggedly tacked on commands to run Sam's code on select cabins around the ship. Where the Alliance presence was strongest. With the other woman's competent assistance, Sam's Plan A had gone from a desperate gambit to save a third of her crew, to a viable method of rousting their invaders.

With a heavy heart, Carter pressed enter on the nasty piece of code she and Lindsay had written. With detached interest she realised the hacker must have understood what they were planning, new code was being thrown up in a desperate attempt to stop their programme running. The speed of the hacker's coding decreased, even as Sam hastily threw up her own blocks. Then ceased altogether. The hacker must have stopped coding and started trying to affect the room itself. Sam snorted, good luck with that. They'd deliberately obscured the life-support systems after that run in with Vala all those years ago.

With her heart in her throat Carter turned to watch the feed from the storage bay, as they stopped pumping oxygen into the room, and started pumping in waste C02 and nitrogen instead.

Novak's vocalised countdown mirrored her own dreadful count, 20 seconds.

On the screen the people inside began to realise what was going on, weaselly and in charge spun as if to start shooting. Sam watched, horrified as one of her airmen rushed him from behind. 40 seconds. They both wrestled for the gun. Their movements growing more sluggish by the moment.

60 seconds.

One of the larger Lucian Alliance members started hammering at the door. Carter frowned concerned as he shot at the panelling with his zat, blue bolts of electricity running up the bulkhead.

Airmen, officers, the Hammond's crew, and Alliance members alike collapsed and were still. They hung obscenely in the microgravity. Looking eerily like the corpse in the Airlock.

Two minutes.

"That's it. Pump the 02 back in."

Novak nodded, her lips a tight line,

"Yes ma'am."

"Let's send what remains of our security forces down there."

---

Jake didn't know what to make of Sheppard. He'd never heard of the guy before, let alone met him, but the SGC people seemed familiar with him. There was some respect there too, not just for the rank, but for the man. Felger seemed to have a new focus for his ridiculous hero-worship, Jake didn't envy the poor bastard.

Their tentative planning, which mostly involved waiting for the guards to be distracted whilst opening all their cell doors at once (aka never gonna happen) was interrupted some time in by Athena herself.

The snakehead snapped her fingers imperiously once the large bulkhead to their block finished noisily creaking open.

"Jaffa, fetch two of the ATA carriers. Bring them to my lab."

"Which ones my goddess?"

"The Colonel and the mouthy child. Let the others consider their …options."

"Hey!"

Jake earnt himself a backhand at that exclamation. He had a feeling Sheppard would have been sarcastically making quips for all he was worth too, but the guy looked mostly dead. Whatever wraith feeding was, it was worse than old-age despite what the science geeks kept insisting.

The guy had been through it before. And they'd made it into a training video.

Jake felt sick.

He'd never force any man of his to put up with that sort of crap.

Just what the hell was going on at the SGC these days?

Jake made his usual attempt to delay matters, he grumbled, kicked at ankles, tried to cling onto the doorframe outside Frankenstein's lab… But to no avail. He was glad he hadn't pre-emptively played his hand with the knife. That was safely jammed into the cell, where Palmer had a halfway decent shot at using it.

There was a new occupant in the containment cell in the lab. Seven feet tall. Green skin. White hair. Face tattoos. Lots of black leather. It was like the aliens had been watching Kiss music videos or something. O'Neill tried not to stare but from the amused grin, revealing rows of black pointy teeth, the alien shot him, he'd been noticed.

"What the hell is that?"

Athena looked haughty and smug. Goa'uld. They were all alike. Megalomaniacal nuisances the lot of them. Sheppard was the one who answered, in a raspy voice and sounding like he was introducing two acquaintances rather than an alien shark,

"That's Todd."

Jake eyed up the seven feet of green skin in disbelief,

"…Todd."

"Yep."

Even decrepit as he was, Sheppard still popped the goddamned p. Jake had to respect that level of commitment to being an absolute ass. That hadn't even been an attempt at an explanation.

In a deep rumbly voice… Todd rasped out,

"Sheppaaard…"

It took a moment for Jake to realise the name was a greeting not a threat when the guy tilted his head at the alien almost friendly like. Eesh. What the hell kind of idiot had the SGC gotten it into their heads to employ?

"Now. Tau'ri. Activate the device in front of you."

While Jake had been ruminating on life the universe and everything, they'd both been strung up on those ridiculous frames Goa'uld seemed to favour. He'd barely noticed. This shit was all old hat by now. The green guy was the most interesting thing to happen in weeks.

If it had been weeks.

It was hard to tell what the time was when there was no day or night. And food was as irregular as it had been.

"Yeah… I'm gonna have to say no."

Jake had to give Sheppard that much, he knew how to turn on infuriating. If one of his men addressed him with that much 'yes sir, fuck you sir' in his voice he'd have been hard pressed not to hit the guy. The fact that he looked like he was pushing ninety and was still all out with the attitude was kinda impressive. Even talking sounded like it hurt.

Athena went straight for the jabbing with her pain stick. Jake was getting pretty worried about the other guy's survival chances here. Though, give the guy his due, as soon as Athena stopped with the red lightning, Sheppard was glaring fiercely up at her.

If looks could kill, the Goa'uld would be so much ash.

Ignoring the murderous atmosphere emanating from her other prisoner, Athena sauntered to Jake's spot on the wall. Jake only gave her half his attention, too busy trying to work out if Sheppard was going to croak it any time soon to give her more. With no little relief Jake realised, what he'd taken for a spasm, was Shep repeatedly signing over and over 5 by 5. He was trying to tell Jake he was alright. Now, Jake could see that for the blatant lie it was, but it was a weight off.

Jake watched Sheppard's fingers with a beady eye, if he was reading the arthritic signs correctly, he was asking Jake to delay at much as possible. From their earlier discussion O'Neill knew there were at least two other groups of prisoners somewhere – making up at least thirty people all told. Crap. This was a shitshow and a half, just what the hell kind of ship was his originator running these days?

"Of course you're idiotic enough to refuse. Hok'tar my ass." Athena leered, "And you O'Neill? Will you capitulate now you see how pointless refusal is?"

"Nah. I'll pass."

Sheppard met his eyes and gave a very slight nod.

"I… see."

Athena looked displeased, the mutant pain stick came out,

"Very well. I've been curious to see how Tau'ri physiology would be affected by the feeding process anyway."

Instead of zapping O'Neill like he'd expected, Athena turned, and the stick descended on Sheppard. Red electricity and his cries echoed through the lab. Jake had just enough time to feel pity before she turned and used it on him. They were both left panting for air in their bonds, O'Neill wondered how much more the other guy could take.

He caught tall green and ugly's gaze as they both worriedly looked the Colonel's way. Huh. United in concern? That was a shocker.

Green guy spoke up,

"If you keep doing that, he won't live long enough to turn anything on for you."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Wraith."

Oh.

This was how Sheppard had apparently gone from taking names and kicking ass to pushing senility.

Green guy sighed,

"This is foolish. Sheppard is stubborn. You're going to kill him before he does what you want."

Athena smiled, somehow her row of perfectly even teeth was scarier than the alien's maw of pointed fangs,

"Oh… I don't think that will be an issue."

Jake gulped, he didn't like where this was going at all. Sheppard was dragged from the room; clearly still reeling from the effects of the stick and didn't put up a fight. Crap.

---

John had intended to use their shared interrogation time more productively than this. Of course, that all flew out of the window as soon as Athena revealed her plans. Groggily he tried to work out where Athena's brute squad was taking him, but between the feeding and the torture, it was all John could do to keep track of the turns,

"Let's try the sarcophagus, shall we?"

Sheppard was bodily lifted into the massive tacky gold coffin, even with his rheumy eyes, John could tell he did not want to go into that box. He struggled, but he'd been drained, endured the stick, and was being, well, Jaffa-handled by six burly guards… He stood no chance, he squirmed like a little worm on a big hook.

He was unceremoniously dropped into the coffin like chamber. Just as John got his bearings together to try and bolt for it, the lid clanged shut over his head with finality. Blinding light surrounded him.

---

With the Atlantis situation on hold, in the face of the current emergency, Strom put Camile on accounts duty. It was even more of a deliberate insult than her previous position as glorified records clerk. At least that had been tangential to her qualifications. This? Camile wasn't an accountant, this role was more than just insulting, Strom wanted her to fail.

Strom placed someone else up for a promotion ahead of her, again. It was the third time. Always someone less qualified, subordinate, once someone she'd trained. It wasn't because she was a woman. Or rather it wasn't just because she was a woman. Camile saw the disgust. The senior IOA member could barely stand to be in the same room as her. She had no idea how he'd managed to get his position; such blatant prejudice had no place in an organisation that regularly dealt with peoples so utterly foreign that frequently concepts of morality barely met. Consistent beliefs about killing and the evils thereof were disparate enough on Earth, let alone out in the great vastness of the galaxy.

Camile sighed, it was what it was. She refused to change who she was, who she loved, for her career. Unlike the military, Camile had a choice, she'd always had a choice. She'd chosen the woman she loved.

In his bigoty Carl Strom hadn't accounted for one thing. Sharon; who was read into the programme, thank her ancestors, did have accountancy training. So long as Camile stuck to generalisations and didn't let Sharon know that half these numbers were funding research into Asgard tech and kept her well away from the numbers above her clearance, it would be perfectly acceptable to ask for help. If it came to it. For now, Camile would content herself with relying on Sharon's old textbooks and asking her partner for help with getting used to the software.

Hell, it was something to do, a way to prevent the monotony of overseeing Area 51's accounts from making her brains run out of her ears. The Atlantis debate was on hold for the foreseeable future, given that several of the key players were either missing or dead.

Sharon walked over, a very full glass of white wine in hand, and slid in on the couch.

"You know we should really get rid of that ugly chair."

"Huh."

Camile snorted her disbelief that Sharon was acting as if she was the hold-up. The glass was thrust under her nose,

"Here, it's for you."

Camile reached for it with a grateful, "Thanks."

Camile leaned into Sharon's warmth, Sharon seriously asked, "So what's going on?"

Camile looked over at her partner questioningly, Sharon started massaging her neck, Camile reflexively pushed back into the firm touch, groaning as the knots unwound themselves. Between groans she got out, "Trouble at work, you know I can't give you specifics. Not yet anyway."

Sharon sighed, "I know, but I can ask."

Sharon continued her ministrations, before moving into the kitchen. The other woman pulled an amused face at the speed with which Camile had gotten through her glass. She held up the bottle and wriggled it teasingly, "More wine?"

"God yes! Make it red this time?"

Sharon smiled and poured out a generous glass of red, bringing it over.

"Well, come to bed before it gets too late."

Sharon wriggled her eyebrows suggestively, a mischievous smile lit up her face. Camile gave into the urge to peck her on the cheek fondly,

"…Yes dear."

Sharon giggled and sauntered upstairs. Camile sighed and stared at the headache in front of her, resignedly she called out,

"Sorry, on second thought, don't wait up. I've got something here."

Sharon pulled a face at her from over the banister, Camile didn't see, she'd already gotten back to the paperwork. She took a large gulp of the red, barely tasting it as she stared down at the figures in front of her.

She squinted as the figures swam in front of her eyes, there was something wrong. Camile was sure the answer was staring her in the face. There was a pattern there. She hadn't quite parsed what it was, but she was determined to find it. At least, once she worked out what it was.

She felt as if she had the edges of something.

An outline.

A silhouette of an idea that was so big, so appalling, her brain refused to accept it.

Now if only she could work out what the hell it was.

Too much money was being funnelled out into Area 51. Even with the huge costs of developing the new Asgard Core enhanced second gen BC-305s and F-306s the numbers were staggering. Conversely, Atlantis and the SGC hadn't been getting their fair share of investment for years, if ever. Camile didn't even want to get into the way the figures for the Ninth Chevron Project made no sense at all. Whilst Camile's speciality was HR, she'd hung around Sharon long enough to recognise the signs of accountancy gone deliberately wrong when she saw it, and everything about this was ringing alarm bells. The numbers were large enough to bankrupt a country, which was probably how all these little discrepancies had slipped past everyone's notice so long.

Camile's expertise in human resources was the first thing to clue her in, even with the Expedition's infamous tendency to the two extremes of either keeping their people forever, or losing them back to Earth within their first three months… There was just… The figures didn't add up. The SGC and IOA simply weren't sending them enough personnel for a frontline base of that size. The Gamma Site got more people for goodness' sake, and that site was a top-secret emergencies only last resort. It was an evacuation site, routinely run with little more than a skeleton crew.

Similarly, there was something very wrong with the list of people getting assigned to the Ninth Chevron Project. Too many mediocre candidates who were all perfectly competent, and passed the necessary security checks… But not much more. Dr Caine was a middling IT tech at best, Dr Franklin a botanist who'd be better off working for a run-of-the-mill botanical garden perhaps, but not someone she'd think capable of heading an international expedition, for all his apparent genius in cancer research. That was ignoring Dr Palmer the geologist with an attitude problem, and the madness of reactivating Sgt Spencer.

Camile knew it was a risk, but she didn't have anyone else she could trust.

Sharon was just settling into their shared bed when Camile came into the bedroom, she smiled lasciviously, and turned the sheets down invitingly,

"Change your mind?"

Something must have shown on Camile's face, Sharon sat up,

"What's wrong?"

"I need you to come and look at something. It's important."

The seriousness in Camile's tone had Sharon nodding immediately, "Let me put on my robe, I'll be right down."

---

Athena watched, pleased at the progress they were making. With Ba'al in charge the Trust never lived up to its full potential. Now she had ATA carriers aplenty to work on, and only had to hide in the dark like a scared Tok'ra rat when she felt the occasional need to experience some of the luxuries the Tau'ri developed for themselves during their millennia in exile.

The sarcophagus opened; Athena signalled her servants to grab the prisoner.

Sheppard was dragged from the healing device, blinking dazedly, yet already snarling aggressively at the guards lifting him upright.

Interesting.

The sarcophagus did tend to heighten aggressive responses it was true, but Athena had never seen it take hold quite this quickly.

The restored to youth Colonel was irrationally trying to bite the guards hauling him over to the wall where he was restrained. Even as they forcibly pushed him down to the surface, which immediately reached out to clutch him, he tried to headbutt the slave. Sheppard pushed his head into the jaw of the man holding onto his upper arms, earning a pained shout. Athena supposed he'd been trying to drive the Jaffa's nose into his brain. The Jaffa in question seemed to delight in twisting Sheppard's arm nearly to breaking point in retaliation.

"Ready to activate this device for me Tau'ri slave?"

Athena did so appreciate the opportunity to exert her godhood, after so many years making good on Earth with inferior beings far beneath her notice, it was almost a relief to let out her not-so-inner bitch. Ba'al's schemes were never worth the subterfuge anyway, she should have seen that the fool wasn't worth following from the beginning. Athena turned and stared expectantly at the mysterious piece of technology.

The ancient device remained stubbornly dead. Sheppard was practically growling under his breath at her, alarmingly feral. Athena sighed, and snapped her fingers at her servants to signal he should be punished. She took the opportunity to closely examine the sarcophagus's handiwork, he wasn't as young as he had been before the Wraith had fed. However, it was good news, the sarcophagi could mitigate the threat of the wraith if they ever did make it to Atlantis to raid the Alteran galaxy.

Her Jaffa jabbed the pain stick into Sheppard's side. He did scream so prettily.

---

Teal'c stared down the Lucian Alliance member sat opposite him in the interrogation room. The man was sweating. Teal'c raised an eyebrow, affecting an indifferent expression. His disgust must have shown, since the individual in the service of the Alliance cowards tried to lean away from him, despite being cuffed to the metal chair.

"I had not believed that I would see such dishonourable tactics used again once the System Lords fell." Teal'c allowed distaste to colour his tone, "Clearly I was incorrect. Humans will stoop to the level of the Goa'uld."

"Your – your point?"

The man opposite him tried for bravado. Teal'c was unmoved.

"Since you have stooped to the level of the False Gods, then so shall I."

"Yeah right. I know all about the honour of the Tau'ri you've chained yourself to Teal'c of Chulak." The man spat, "Shol'va!"

Teal'c leaned forward, putting his arms on the table, boxing the man in against the hard metal chair,

"You forget. For many decades I was First Prime to Apophis."

Teal'c allowed a familiar cold smile to cross his face,

"For many years I hunted humans for sport in service of a False God whom I knew to be False."

The man went white. The blood didn't so much drain from his face, as try to flee Teal'c's presence.

An hour later, the information the Alliance member was babbling out as quickly as his mouth would allow him to communicate it, began to cycle around. It seemed he'd shared everything he knew.

"Thank you, Etan of the Sixth House. I shall send in a Tau'ri interrogator to verify the information you have given me. You will be cooperative."

"Yes, yes! I told you, most of us didn't have a choice! The Alliance come to your world, you cooperate, or they kill your family. Your whole family. Forget parents, wave your cousins goodbye! They know man, they always know."

"Indeed. The tactics of cowards. I shall see to it that you are treated fairly should your information prove to be true."

"It is! I swear!"

Teal'c left Etan alone in the room and went straight to O'Neill's temporary office.

"O'Neill."

"Teal'c, find anything out?"

"Indeed O'Neill, he was most cooperative."

"That's good."

"He was very low in the hierarchy; however, he'd heard rumours of another attack."

O'Neill practically sagged in his chair. Teal'c sympathised.

---

Sheppard saw everything through a haze of red.

Part of him was alarmed by the sheer rage he felt, the rest was busily trying to violently attack the monsters that had taken him.

Todd came in, the traitorous Wraith bastard! He snapped around to face him, or tried to, hindered by whatever was pinning him to the wall. Not-O'Neill was there too. The useless lump. Some help he was.

Shep made his point by snarling and snapping at him instead.

"John Sheppard."

Through the fury a part of John noted that Todd sounded almost… regretful. Which couldn't possibly be true, Todd was a lying Wraith bastard! And! He was a Wraith!

Athena the hag sauntered up behind Todd, slinkily moving her attractive body, which wasn't even hers the snakey slut, it felt like a good idea to tell her so,

"Snake! That body isn't even yours!"

Todd looked alarmed. Good he should be. Sheppard was going to bite his nose off! See how he liked being at the bottom of the food chain for a change! He snapped at Todd when he moved closer, but the bonds held him fast.

"Do it Wraith."

With a sigh, why was Todd sighing? He liked eating. Sheppard growled distracted by that thought, Todd's hand slammed down onto his chest, the agony began anew.

---

Carter stared down at the grinning form of Ronon in the infirmary bed. The Satedan Specialist looked crispy fried, if, no, when they got back to Earth, Sheppard was going to kill her.

From the front Ronon looked as if he had bad sunburn, his skin flushed pink, and already peeling in places. Only the state of his mane of hair put paid to that lie. Half of Ronon's dreadlocks were missing, the stench of burnt hair surrounded him in an unpleasant miasma. The young blonde medic Johansen firmly pushed Ronon back down onto the gurney and continued to smear burn gel on his wounds. He subsided with a grunt,

"Ronon, I'm sorry. I should have realised that you wouldn't know what Code Icarus was."

"Not your fault. Shoulda read the briefing notes."

"Well, yes." Carter couldn't argue his logic there, "But as the Captain of this ship, and having been your CO for a year, I know you're not wholly confident with written English. I should have taken the time to make sure you were aware of why it was important."

Ronon squirmed, embarrassed,

"Look it's my fault. I can read your English. Just, it's difficult. Your alphabet is nothing like Satedan, or Genii, or even the Trading language. The letters look all wrong. They're too small, and round. There's too few of em, and the rules don't make any damned sense!"

"I know. I'm sorry. You act so much like one of the marines, sometimes I forget."

"Don't worry about it."

Johansen quietly added,

"I didn't know what half the codes meant, and I'd read the briefing notes."

Carter let her gaze pointedly leave Ronon's face and rove along his back. The Satedan was lying on his front on the infirmary bed, his back covered in sodden burn dressings.

He'd only received a split second of indirect doubly attenuated radiation from the bulkhead window. Ronon got through the doorway to the inner cabins in the nick of time. A beam of pulsar radiation had cut a glancing blow across his shoulder blades – frying off most of his dreadlocks as it went. From what Doctor Brightman said, he had two matching third degree burns on each shoulder-blade, and a huge patch of second and first degree burning across much of his upper back.

And that had been from barely getting in the way of the very outer edge of a beam of pulsar radiation attenuated through two, inches thick, transparent trinium viewports… Carter shuddered to think how close a shave it had been. From the security footage of the outermost cabins on that side of the ship before the desperate pulsar plan had been carried out - several dozen of the greasy smears that littered those rooms were actually Lucian Alliance members.

Ronon must have mistaken Sam's horror for something else,

"Don't worry about it Carter. Been meaning to trim my dreads for a while. They were getting heavy, and I'd stopped mourning my grandfather years ago."

Carter eyed the crispy black mess that had been Ronon's hair. It had saved his life.

The charred corpses zipped into body bags still coming into the 302-bay (for lack of anywhere better to put them) spoke of the fate Sam had condemned a lot of people to today.

"Hey." Ronon caught her attention, "You did what you had to do."

Sam nodded tersely. She knew she had.

"I mean it, they weren't gonna stop. Wouldn't have negotiated. It was us or them."

Ronon pointedly looked over at the injured crewmen in the other corner of the ship's infirmary, the room was crowded. A lot of walking wounded had come out of the standoff in the storage bay. Stackhouse was still under the knife in the operating room.

"Yeah, I know Ronon."

Carter's plan had been a success. Only, hah! 'Only' one crewmember had gotten caught up in the deadly pulsar wave she'd driven them into. They'd been unable to get away from the outer hull in time. All the other casualties of that celestial body were their invaders.

Plan A had worked too. The calculated risk paid off spectacularly. The Hammond's SFs were rounding up their attackers at their leisure, those not yet in the brig were all safely contained in the cabins they'd been in when Sam played with life support.

Besides, Sam eyed up the walking wounded again, she couldn't quite find it within herself to feel guilt. Not after what had happened to Airman Dunning in the airlock. Or the way it was looking likely Simms would never be a surgeon again, not with those hands. Stacks saved a lot of lives with that little standoff, and he was paying for it even now.

If Stacks hadn't done the deed for her, Sam might have broken the Geneva Convention and shot Kiva herself. As it stood, the woman was a half-charred corpse in a body bag somewhere.

---

"Undo it Wraith"

"Why do you persist with this?" Todd asked, "There is no point. Sheppard is stubborn, he won't do as you ask."

With a nod to her Jaffa, Athena gave the okay to start 'persuading' him. Grinning nastily, they advanced on Todd's unresisting form. He'd learnt the hard way with the Genii, in a situation such as this, it was worse to fight back. Especially since his feeding hand was encased in the hated Goa'uld contraption that even now dug painfully into the enzyme sac, milking him as if he were a herd animal.

From his position on the floor, looking through legs that were kicking every bit of skin the drones could reach, Todd turned to face Sheppard, and met his gaze. Steadily trying to get through to the Lantean, even as the hated pain stick contacted his flesh and momentarily whited out all thought.

Sheppard weakly turned his eyes to face him, and croaked out,

"Yeah. Do what… You want… Bitch."

Athena added her own demands,

"Undo it Wraith."

Todd resisted the urge to sigh, and tried to sound reasonable even as he lied,

"I need to feed more before I can. Your drones did too much damage."

"Fine. Eat them." Athena gestured carelessly to one of the humans, "The ATA expression is pitifully low. It's a wonder the SGC even registered it."

Todd didn't need to be told twice, ignoring the young woman's vehement struggles, he drained the human she gestured to completely and turned back to Sheppard's aged visage.

Todd, or rather, Guide, leaned over his brother and pushed life force back into his ailing body. Todd could taste the wrongness of the enzyme flowing through Sheppard's blood after multiple feedings, and the further imbalance wrought by the sarcophagus. In truth Todd could easily have merely reversed the feeding, but he had a feeling that if he wanted to get out of this, he'd need Sheppard's help – and health.

Subtly he pushed back more life force than he'd taken, taking care not to go overboard and affect tissues in the visible places overly. Todd returned the stubborn Lantean's life force, and then some, to internal organs, joints, and muscles. He could undo what he had fashioned and strengthen his sometime ally in preparation. The sarcophagus had wreaked all sorts of havoc on the Lantean's system. Even freshly fed, Todd realised he barely had enough energy to spare to undo all the strange imbalances. Apparent ability to undo the effects of wraith feeding aside; the sarcophagus technology had done many subtle wrongs to the Lantean. Todd recognised it as a crude derivative of the technology the Lanteans used in the great war, but how it had come to exist in this warped form escaped him.

Either way, he needed to mitigate its effects.

If this wraith knew anything about his curious Lantean, it was this, he would attempt to escape. And Guide had every intention of joining him.

---

Jack glared around the conference table at everyone else in the meeting, daring one of them to derail it… again. The bare minimum of attendees were present, given the distrust Dixon had thrown into stark relief. Landry was there, Davis as their Homeworld liaison, Telford as their Washington liaison, and the two commanders of the least damaged BC-304s: Caldwell and Ellis. Jack knew he was lucky to have gotten this little gathering in under the IOA's radar, if they were aware, they'd probably be trying to argue that Woolsey and/or Sheppard should be removed from Atlantis's command staff ASAP again. The organisation seemed to have lost all sense of appropriate timing.

It had been days since multiple simultaneous attacks had affected nearly every branch of Earth's space-faring effort. They were only just getting back on their feet, people had been reassigned, duty rosters shifted. It took most of the week to sort out the personnel who'd been whammied by the device the Alliance pushed through the gate with temporary quarters.

Teal'c, Lam, Captain-Doctor Satterfield, and lately McKay, were vehement there were no aftereffects once the damned thing was shut off, but Landry was taking no chances. Jack sympathised, much as he thought it was the wrong decision. Dixon was the first Za'tarc the other man had seen die under his watch. From bitter experience Jack knew the IOA would use this as an excuse to extract a pound of flesh from the SGC, and likely not a metaphorical one either, given that Senator Armstrong was dead. It was a small mercy that the Alliance apparently hadn't discovered the location of the shipyards, or Atlantis.

The beta and gamma sites had been moved. Homeworld was back in its previous quiet and highly defended corner of the Pentagon again, Area 51 was starting over with getting to the Control Chair, and the SGC was back on its feet. Albeit, with approximately 50 personnel stuck living permanently on base until it could be ascertained they weren't a danger, and an additional layer of gate security courtesy of the joint efforts of Doctors Kusanagi, McKay, and Perry.

Jack finished wool-gathering and summed up,

"This was a coordinated, organised attack across multiple fronts. Homeworld Command headquarters in DC were the least of it. We're only lucky that Airman O'Donnell was there. His sacrifice stopped that bomb going off"

Lt Col Davis spoke up, "If it had gone up all of DC would have been irradiated."

Hank flatly said, "Stargate Command was invaded; we still have several personnel unaccounted for. The attack was probably cover to grab them."

Worryingly the Hammond was still incommunicado. Plans were in the off to rush repairs and send out the Apollo to scan the ship's intended route, since it never turned up at its destination. Currently, there were more than 450 souls unaccounted for in the vast expanse of space.

Jack added, "The Hammond was ambushed. Last thing we heard they had contact with a mothership. I don't think that's a coincidence."

Hank looked vaguely accusatory, which O'Neill thought was extremely unfair. He hadn't given Sam the assignment. And besides, even if he had, she deserved her own command, especially after the bullshit the IOA pulled dragging her away from Atlantis. Grim looks were shared all round. Jack continued adding to the dire list,

"An attempt was made to kidnap Martin Lloyd, fortunately his bodyguards prevented this. Cassandra Frasier was also targeted. She's fine. Shaken, but, well she's Janet's daughter, she knows the risks."

Landry looked bleak, the other general had been looking grey ever since Dixon hadn't made it. In a tone that spoke of lost hope Hank continued gruffly,

"Those are just the attempts we know about because they reported in. We need to find out if anyone else was attacked, and if, or rather who is missing."

Davis, looking like he regretted having to share the news added, "You've not heard the rest of the list yet sir. Lorne, Beckett, and Keller very nearly got taken out in Arlington."

Jack rubbed at his eyes, "Jesus."

"It was a miracle no one was killed. We got lucky."

"Lucky!" Jack barked out cynically, "What about our missing people here?"

Meeting his gaze steadily, the Lt Col continued to share the bad news, "The list is still growing. Dr Franklin, Sergeant Spencer, Dr Esposito and Dr Felger are the confirmed missing from base sir."

"What?! Crap. Well, Felger's a relief. He'll probably accidentally blow up the bad guys for us." Jack leaned back from the table, "Do we know who else hasn't turned up yet?"

"You mean apart from Vala, Sheppard, and Rush?"

"Yes, apart from them." O'Neill sighed, rubbing at his jaw he asked, "What other confirmed attempts were made?"

Daniel barged in,

"So nice to be invited to this meeting."

"Doctor Jackson what are you doin-" Landry started. Daniel ignored him and busied himself with dumping a huge amount of paperwork, something covered in musical notation, and an Egyptology textbook on the table before responding,

"Orlin is missing."

Hank looked stunned,

"What?!"

"Look I know I'm not supposed to know about all this, but I've been asking around. Members of the Atlantis Expedition were targeted, there was an ATA gene carrier in every group…" Daniel smiled that mean little smile of his, looking darkly amused, "They certainly do things differently out in Pegasus; did you here about the convention attack? They took down the gunmen. Apparently, it was a bit of an issue persuading the police that the Expedition weren't the aggressors…"

Landry sighed, seemingly giving up on the idea of getting Daniel to leave, "How public was it?"

"They were at a scientific conference, the event and venue security helped secure the assailants until law enforcement arrived." Daniel turned and addressed the table as a whole, "From the SGC missing-list there's Dr Franklin, our new superstar plants guy, and Sgt Spencer. They were both ATA gene carriers. There must be a connection there."

Telford interjected, "We don't know that for sure. We still haven't accounted for everyone that wasn't on base."

With a scowl of disbelief in Telford's direction, Daniel spoke up, "You're choosing to ignore the fact that we lost four newly identified ATA gene carriers before all this happened." Daniel gestured around the room, as if to encompass the SGC, "We need to talk about the elephant in the room. There's clearly been a leak. The Lucian Alliance must have found out abou-"

Jack sharply interrupted, "Daniel!"

"No Jack! Look at where our attempts at secrecy have gotten us! People are missing! Our people! Sam's missing! The entire crew of the Hammond! Civilians kidnapped from our own backyard! Cam got shot down! Vala is gone! We've lost Dr Franklin! He worked in Botany! He was perfectly happy developing anti-cancer drugs until we got our claws into him. Did anyone even bother to tell him why he'd been brought into the programme?! Let alone Sgt Spencer. Did anyone here even care about why he'd been medically discharged? Or what finding out about the SGC would do to the man? No, we reactivated the poor bastard and blithely dragged him away from his work helping veterans with mental health issues, after stupidly starting a genetic screening programme without bothering to think about the consequences of identifying these people would be and look where we've ended up!"

The people seated around the conference table sat awkwardly in stunned silence once Daniel's tirade wound down.

"Thank you for that Doctor Jackson." Hank growled out, utterly unimpressed. "Now sit down or get out."

Daniel took a chair, he ignored Landry pointedly,

"There were a lot of ATA carriers on the Hammond Jack."

Jack sighed,

"We were just getting to that Danny."

Telford chimed in again,

"We still need to honour our agreements with the Pegasus Coalition. With the Hammond missing…"

Landry sighed for the umpteenth time, "Colonel Caldwell you're going to need to make a round trip to Pegasus."

The tall man looked resigned.

"Back to driving the bus."

"It's important work Colonel."

"Oh I know, I just. Well I never thought I'd say this, gentlemen, but I wish Sheppard had full command in Pegasus right now."

Telford leaned back from the table and added casually,

"How do we know that Sheppard isn't in some way responsible for this situation? Hell of a coincidence, he's back on Earth, and ATA carriers go missing."

Jack watched Hank's expression go wooden. He opened his mouth, preparing something witty and cutting when -

"No, I will not accept that."

Caldwell, of all people, was the one who spoke up.

"You all know Sheppard and I have had our differences over the years."

There were snorts all around.

"But the person you're describing sounds nothing like the officer I've come to know. Whilst I don't think Sheppard and I will ever agree on his laidback leadership style, it works out there in Pegasus. "

Colonel Ellis joined in, "I don't think I've seen that man ever ask something of one of his men that he wouldn't be willing to do himself."

Davis added a dryly sarcastic, "He puts up with the most insane of our marines, and apparently even does all of his own paperwork."

There were quiet chuckles.

Caldwell continued as if he hadn't been interrupted,

"My point is gentlemen, if Colonel Sheppard were in your position right now? He wouldn't be asking if it was worth looking for you. He'd already be out there." The colonel glared around at everyone else sat around the conference table, "On that note I would like to request that the Daedalus be sent out to search for the Hammond, since it's last known position is en route out of the galaxy. A lot of my crew was seconded to our sister ship. I know I speak for most of my people when I say we'd feel better to be the one's searching."

Landry cut across him, "No colonel, orders are orders. I know this is a difficult time, but I need you in Pegasus right now."

Uncharacteristically Caldwell looked as if he was going to argue, Landry continued, "Colonel Ellis, we're fast tracking the repairs of the Apollo, as soon as she's space worthy, you have a go for that search and rescue mission."

"Yessir."

Tiredly Landry continued,

"Telford, I want you to take care of the Armstrongs for me. Keep Patricia from doing anything in her grief."

"Yessir."

"We need to find something useful for the daughter to do around here, part of the deal to stop her talking was allowing the family to make sure the Senator's wishes for the programme wouldn't be ignored."

Jack rolled his eyes so hard he was worried they'd fall out at that one. He hoped things would work out for the best on that front. Nepotism rarely ended well.

Walter rushed into the conference room, Landry scowled at yet another interruption,

"Sirs! Area 51 just called it in, they finally got down to the basement levels, the wraith's gone missing."

"Oh for crying out loud!"

The meeting split up rapidly. Landry, Telford and Davis running off to put out numerous political fires that news had likely started. A wraith, possibly loose on Earth. Dammit.

Jack lingered, he ended up glaring pointedly at Caldwell and Ellis when it looked as if the colonels wanted a word with him, when Jack wanted a word with his geek.

"What more do you want Jack? I'm already traipsing around the galaxy on a wild goose chase."

"It's not a wil-"

"Yeah yeah I know, find Vala's contacts. See if they heard anything about a plan to get to Earth."

Jack shot Daniel a furious glare. That mission was probably their people's best hope.

"Any success getting in touch with Vala's people?"

Daniel scowled, and started mulishly poking at the music in front of him.

"No, and I don't think we're going to have any luck there either."

---

Nervily Vala eyed up her fellow ex-host and pondered what to say. It was a great risk revealing even this much to the other woman, but, Vala had to face up to the distinct possibility that keeping Gardner in ignorance would lead to her inadvertently giving the whole game away.

The other woman was brittle, filled with the same frightened anger that had been Vala's entire world when she'd stumbled out of Thor's Hammer all those years ago. Conversationally Vala asked the question that had been at the forefront of her mind ever since they'd met,

"So, how'd that pox ridden whore's daughter catch you anyway?"

"Catch me?" A bitter laugh, "One moment I was in my therapist's office. Fat good a therapist is, when you can't tell them the truth for fear of getting sectioned, the next the office was filled with men in uniform demanding I come with them, that I was under arrest for treason. By the time I worked out the truth? It was too late. Athena's pricks had me."

Vala kept an eye on the Jaffa as the other woman wound down from her impassioned rant. They didn't seem to give a prim'ta's ass whether they talked or not. Vala had been right, there was plenty of anger there. She made her decision,

"Since that grub sucker didn't bother to introduce us; Vala Mal Doran. Former host to Qetesh, now a valued member of SG-1, righting wrongs across Stella Via. Adventuress extraordinaire."

"Doctor Sarah Gardner. Art Historian. Formally of Cambridge, lately of the whole damned Milky Way." The blonde grinned bitterly at her, a wry twist to her mouth, "I'm still trying to pick up the pieces Osiris made of my life. Far as the world's concerned, I went on an unplanned sabbatical lasting three years with no notice. They all think that's code for a breakdown. I can't get work. I still have nightmares. The US government just dropped me back into my life and expected me to get on with it. This?" the newly identified Sarah Gardner gestured with the rag she was holding, and laughed low and mocking, "Unhealthy as it sounds, this is almost a relief. It feels more normal."

"Oh believe me I know. Qetesh had me for decades. Afterwards was no picnic either."

"As opposed to here?"

Vala took her destiny in her hands, if she was judging the other woman right, and Vala knew she was with that familiar rage reflecting back at her…

"Oh no, here? This is nothing. I've got a plan. And I need your help."

In low tones Vala explained what she was trying to do, Gardner approved wholeheartedly. The other woman even came up with a suggestion or two herself about where to hide their ill-gotten stash. Gardner had realised that this Ha'tak was of an altogether more ancient design than most of the Jaffa seemed used to… and having been old-Osiris's host for a number of years, she knew a thing or two about locations of cubby holes that weren't likely to be discovered.

Vala was relieved to find a little fellowship here, in this time and this place. Even as she felt an unexpected and unwelcome twinge of guilt, that she'd found friendship, where Rush was enduring nothing but stress… and Shep- Beautiful was going through horrors.

She just managed to discreetly pass a small portion of the acid they'd been using to clean the most stubborn grime out of the hieroglyphs over to Sarah, when Athena's guards appeared en mass.

Vala thought they'd been caught, but aside from being pushed roughly to the floor, Gardner was left alone. Vala caught a glimpse of the other woman's panicked expression as she was hauled away.

She was dragged to Rush's oppressive computer room. The Jaffa kept a bruising grip on her arms the whole way.

Athena was waiting.

"This is what you get for disobedience Doctor Rush."

Vala looked around in panic, understanding instant. She shot Gorgeous a look that she hoped to hell let the slight man know that it was not his fault.

"Disobedience?" Rush was shouting, "I did exactly as you asked! It's nae my fault that there was nothing to find on Colson's servers! It's your fault your intel was useless! There was nothing to find!"

Their whole sorry procession was dragged along the corridors of the decrepit Ha'tak. Vala started struggling anew when she realised she was being dragged to the lab. The stench was the first clue. She was manhandled into a chair and stared in horror at the desiccated corpse hanging forlornly on the wall, like a morbid decoration. With dismay Vala realised she recognised him from his shirt, it was Dr Rayscombe.

There was an exclamation of outrage, only then did she realise Sheppard was strung up on the wall closest to the door. He was writhing against the restraints, unheeding the blood trickling down his arms where they dug into his flesh. Grimly Vala thought she recognised the handiwork of a sarcophagus in his near mindless actions.

"What have you done to him Athena?"

"Oh, nothing I can't undo. Don't worry yourself Mal Doran, I want this one's ATA gene."

"Hah! I knew it! Lying bitch!"

Sheppard's triumphant, if ill-judged exclamation made them all jump. Nick looked half out of his mind with worry. Vala tried not to add to it,

"I see he's not entirely rational." Vala aimed for cutting. She managed to keep the quaver out of her voice, and drew the conwoman around herself like a cloak, "Well done. You've made him angry."

"Oh, I plan to make him angrier still."

Athena smiled a smug, not entirely sane, smile. Sheppard's wraith was dragged over from its cell. Vala couldn't help but jerk in the arms of the Jaffa that held her. Her body's reaction to the predator instinctive and unstoppable. Rush's expression was a twisted broken thing.

'Not your fault.' Vala mouthed.

By Ra, Vala hoped he believed her.

"Punish me! For god's sake ye stupid cunt, it's not her fault!"

Athena maliciously smiled,

"Oh no Doctor Rush, that was never our deal."

"Deal!? There was ne'er any deal ye insane hen! We never made any deal!"

Rush's voice was high, thin, and hysterical.

Looking regretful the wraith allowed himself to be pushed forward. Vala stared into his yellow eyes, unable to look anywhere else but at the predator's gaze. Was that regret? From what she'd heard of the wraith, she doubted it, and yet. Vala had been a killer herself, she knew the hopelessness of bending to another's will with no hope of escape.

Athena's voice cut across the moment,

"Know this is all because Doctor Rush failed me in his duties. This is his punishment, not yours. Though, I confess, that is a convenient side-effect."

The part of her mind that wasn't gibbering in terror sank with relief. They hadn't been found out. Not yet.

The huge green clawed hand settled against her sternum.

Vala heard Nick's voice turn pleading and broken, as Vala beheld for the first time, the horror of a wraith, and experienced the agony of feeding. The pain was up there with the inescapable torment her unwanted passenger used to 'punish' her with back in the day. But at least this she could escape. Vala couldn't quite hold back the screams as the feeding began. Sheppard's howls for Todd to stop joined her own.

Gratefully Vala slipped into oblivion.

---

AN:
Ah poor Sheppard, poor Rush, poor Vala... Things will begin to look up for our protagonists! Promise!

Grateful thanks for all the kind reviews and comments! They really do help keep this thing on track during the interminable editing process. And huge thanks to the 100 subscribers/followers who've decided they want notifications for this thing, I hadn't thought there were enough people still active in Stargate fandom for this thing to reach three figures like that!