Chapter 11

There was a shadow by his side, silently present, moving where he moved, following his lead for now, yet projecting her authority as alpha; his consent or denial to her presence would not be respected, or even acknowledged.

"Hey, Bouddie," John said.

She flicked an ear, not breaking her steady, loping stride. John wished his heavy jog were as effortless; his earlier run down the mountain and across the jagged plateau had taken a lot out of him and more running was the last thing he needed. Also, he suspected, but had omitted to mention his team, that a cracked rib lurked beneath the bruise on his chest, so that with each breath he took, it felt like he'd been stabbed. It was fine though, he told himself; ribs were only dangerous when they were completely broken and sticking in places where they didn't belong. This hurt, but it would be fine, so he should just ignore it.

John's glance flicked to the LSD, bouncing before him in one hand, his other hand on his P90. The white dot was still moving away, faster than he could run. He stopped, his lungs heaving, his chest burning, and leant against a tree; he'd never catch the thing at this rate. The sky ahead of him was a lowering red-brown and John wondered why Salem was heading in the direction of the wildfire.

"Pro'bly gonna fan the flames," he rasped.

Boudicca looked up at him and rubbed her sleek fur against his legs.

"What the hell is that thing, Bouddie?" he asked, forcing himself into a staggering jog once more, the pack full of C4 feeling like a bag of lead on his back. It occurred to him that he could no longer see any damage to the surrounding trees; there were no signs of Salem's passage and John wouldn't have been able to track it without the LSD.

"Salem," he said. "Stupid name... But who'd have guessed?" He drew several heaving breaths, tasting smoke. "McKay and Sabrina the teenage witch?" he coughed. Then he came to a stumbling halt.

"Wait, Bouddie! It's stopped! It's coming back!"

His eyes on the LSD, John slid off his pack which the priss sniffed at and then sneezed in distaste.

"Okay, it's coming our way." He opened the pack, hesitated, and then closed it again. "I'll just heave the whole lot at it, and then," he patted a pocket of his tac vest, "we'll try adding a grenade to the mix."

John felt that he had rarely stood on shakier ground, tactically; he had no idea what Salem's capabilities were. Could it sense him? Was it even now tracking him? Your traditional ambush involved finding cover and then surprising your enemy; John wouldn't be surprised if this thing had x-ray vision, or infrared, or whatever, which would make cover pointless and surprise impossible. Nevertheless, he watched the trace on the LSD and hid behind a tree. Boudicca sat on his feet.

"A little space, please?"

She edged behind him and leant against his legs. John peered around the tree trunk, his pack resting on the ground but firmly gripped in both of his hands. The sky glowed a brighter orange and in the distance John thought he could hear the crack of falling timber. He blinked into the unnatural colours of the flame-lit night; trees clad in the yellows and oranges of the Fall, trunks and branches edged red on black. It was a sinister, hellish scene. John blinked again; the trees had appeared to shift. The ground seemed to furrow slightly as if a wave had passed through it, but beneath John's feet it felt solid and secure. Boudicca hissed. He glanced down at her and saw her teeth bared and her fur standing on end. There was a movement and a ripple in the air and a shimmer, and before John's bewildered gaze there was a huge rock, then nothing, then a seething mass of grit and soil and then again nothing; then the whole area was a churning confusion of rock, wood, water and leaf.

John tasted his fear, felt the shock of sudden, cold sweat, and shook with the hurtling patter of his frantic heart; but still, his determination to protect the people of this world made him step out from behind the tree and hurl his loaded pack into the terrifying, unnatural creature. Without conscious thought, his grenade was in his hand and the pin was pulled. He waited; then he threw the grenade and dived back behind the tree, crouching down and holding Boudicca close.

oOo

Teyla asked a question, with full awareness that, from anyone else it would be met with the usual scorn, if not derision; safe in the knowledge that, to her, Rodney would not dare, she proceeded.

"How will the airlock doors open if the Waffle lacks power?"

She saw the jabbing response sharply bitten back. He answered, with the pretense of infinite patience, "Because when we docked, I was immediately able to set up an interface with the Waffle, thus allowing me access to the controls and temporarily allowing the Waffle to draw power from the Jumper."

"Most satisfactory," she said, thinking forbearance should be rewarded. "Can we safely lower the hatch?"

"I believe we can, if you'd like to do the honours!"

The hatch lowered into the airlock. There was a small puddle of water on the floor, but nothing more; it appeared the mechanism worked and the seals had held. Teyla felt another 'stupid question' coming on; Rodney was tapping at his laptop, accessing the controls for the inner door.

"Why is an airlock necessary? Is the Waffle designed to be submerged?"

"What? Oh, yes, actually, yes it is! Anything from deep sea to the high upper atmosphere." He paused, studying his screen closely, frowning and continued, absently, "Designed to seek out and oxidise methane wherever it may lurk..."

"Will the door not open, Rodney?"

"Hmm? Door? No, that's easy." He tapped the laptop once, and with a hiss of equalising pressure, the door swung open. Rodney set off purposefully into the passageway that stretched ahead, the plain white walls lit by overhead striplights.

"Simple enough layout," he said, marching forward. Teyla's knee felt stiff and she struggled to keep up. "Bridge to the left," he said passing a heavy bulkhead door, "Crew quarters to the right, and..." They reached the head of a descending companionway. "Flooded power room below," Rodney finished, with a heavy sigh.

Teyla looked down into the rippling water, which lapped gently a few steps below her feet. It was remarkably clear and she could see light shining from beneath.

"There is power running to the lower deck," she said.

"Yes, but there's also a breach in the hull." Rodney squatted down to look more closely at the surface of the water. "It doesn't come all the way up to this deck; there's space to breathe."

oOo

Ronon jogged steadily, matching his pace to Maddy's; he knew she could run a good way, but there was no desperate hurry so he didn't urge her to greater speed.

"Bouddie's gone with John," she said.

"Yeah."

"I was playing with the prissets, 'n' Tam said about the fire..." She paused, running out of breath. "She left the little'uns with Franca and came with me."

"They'll eat the helgets," remarked Ronon.

"No, they won't, cos Bouddie told 'em not to!"

"They'll run off."

"No, they'll do as she told 'em." Then, with a grin, "They're not like me!"

Ronon grinned back. Then he stopped and Maddy skidded to a halt beside him.

"What?"

Through a break in the trees, Ronon could see, further down the hill they were descending, a bright flicker of flame and rising tendrils of smoke. He observed the swirling tendrils and looked up at the scattered moonlit clouds.

"Wind's changing," he said. "This way isn't safe."

"Fire rises; we need to go downhill."

"Not this way."

"That way, then, to the mountain road. They'll be widening it to make more of a break. Dad'll be there and those without little'uns to look after."

Ronon nodded. "Let's go."

They set off on their new course, two shadows passing through the forest, tall and short together.

oOo

Boudicca grumbled and squirmed in John's arms. He let go. Her golden eyes gazed into his and he received a message of deep scepticism.

"Your guess is as good as mine," he said. There had been no explosion. The forest was silent, the smell of smoke thicker on the air. John scrambled up and edged his way round the tree trunk. There was nothing there, the forest floor entirely undisturbed. John fished the LSD out of his pants pocket and was in time to see a white blip flicker off the edge of the screen.

"So... What does that mean? I scared it off? Gave it indigestion? Fed it a tasty snack?" His shoulders slumped wearily. He coughed and reached for his canteen, took a drink and then crouched down and poured a stream into his cupped palm for Boudicca to drink. She lapped, watching John, and then sat back on her haunches, continuing to regard him steadily.

"I think I've blown it," he said tiredly, screwing the top back on the canteen and clipping it onto his vest. He massaged the tight muscles at the back of his neck with one hand, feeling sharp jabs of pain in his chest. "I don't know where to go with this one, Bouddie. That thing... What do you do against something like that?"

The priss put her head on one side and flicked an ear.

"Yeah, I did my best. Huh. Not good enough, though, was it?"

Boudicca's whiskers twitched. She moved forward and butted him in the face with her head, then prodded him in the chest with one paw.

"Ow! What was that for?" John suddenly sprang to his feet. The air was cloudy with smoke and in the distance he could hear crackling and the crash of a falling tree. He looked at the priss, knowing he had the best guide to the forest. She growled, flicked her tail and loped off into the trees. John followed.

oOo

"We should remove our clothes," said Teyla.

"Yes, I suppose," agreed Rodney, hoping that Teyla would at least retain her underwear, if only to spare his blushes; Athosians seemed to have a pretty relaxed attitude to nakedness. He went over the plan again, as a distraction, while he undressed.

"We swim along the surface until we're directly over the ZPM port. I dive down, release the spent one, come back up, take the fresh one, you go down and pull out the old one and I put in the new. If I have enough breath, I'll activate it at the control panel, if not I'll have to make another dive."

He shuffled awkwardly in just his blue and white-striped boxers.

"The water's probably just a shade above freezing," he said.

"I have had to swim in very cold water before, Rodney. I know what to expect."

"Cold shock, hyperventilation, loss of co-ordination, cramps," he listed.

"It must be done."

"Yes. It must," he agreed, unhappily. "You hold the ZPM, while I get in."

Teyla picked up the precious device. Rodney gave her a jerky nod, turned, jogged in place, puffed air out through his lips and then ran down the stairway and into the icy water.

He couldn't prevent his huge gasp as the cold bit into his skin, and his breath continued fast and shallow, his heart racing as his body tried to cope with the shock. He thrashed around, bitter salt entered his mouth, and then his sore wrist hit something and the extra pain together with Teyla's insistent voice managed to penetrate his panic.

"Rodney!"

He turned toward the anchoring voice and his eyes locked onto Teyla's face.

"Rodney, take it!" She held out the ZPM and he saw his arms reach out and grasp it. He pulled it to his chest, the hard edges of the crystal digging into his skin. Teyla entered the water and the shock hit her; she struggled, gasping and wide-eyed.

"Teyla! This way!"

She gave a shuddering nod and Rodney turned and, kicking awkwardly, the ZPM heavy in his arms, he propelled himself along, his head just a couple of inches below the ceiling. He realised that the water had begun to feel quite pleasant; he wasn't fooled. His body would be diverting heat to vital organs; soon enough he'd feel the cold again and then the weakness, the lack of co-ordination.

"Here! I think this is right!" He trod water, his head tipped up, body jerking from side to side.

"I will take it, Rodney." He slid the ZPM into Teyla's arms, took several deep breaths and jack-knifed, thrusting his body down into the water, the salt stinging his eyes, a steady stream of bubbles popping from his nose. He homed in on the Ancient console, the crystals' clear, white inner light beckoning. Reaching out, his fingers grasped the edge of the console, but slid off, his natural buoyancy pulling him to the surface. Rodney kicked hard, his lungs already straining, feeling the chill beginning to seep into his bones. He gripped the console firmly, anchoring himself, ignored the pain in his wrist and slapped the sequence of crystals that should release the spent ZPM. As his vision began to haze, he let go of the console and kicked for the surface, catching a glimpse of a vague cylindrical shape rising out of the central panel.

He broke the surface, lungs bursting and wheezed and spluttered as Teyla thrust the live ZPM into his arms once more and disappeared beneath the surface. Rodney kicked his legs as vigorously as he could, thinking the viscosity of the water had increased suddenly and realising that his limbs felt heavy and his thoughts were becoming confused. Teyla erupted out of the water.

"It is out," she said. "I dropped it."

"Fine, 'ts fine." His lips wouldn't move properly. Rodney tucked the ZPM under one arm, took a deep breath and dived down again; he couldn't achieve the power to propel himself down and broke the surface, coughing.

"Rodney?"

Now or never, he thought and jack-knifed and kicked and pulled with his free arm, forcing his way down into the life-sapping depths. His fingers found the edge of the ZPM port. He clung on, and tried to orient the device with his other hand, but couldn't grip its broad base, and felt it slipping. Panicking, he almost took a breath, but then there was a hand on his shoulder and together he and Teyla manoeuvred the ZPM into place. Rodney didn't wait to slide it home; he trusted Teyla to do that while he pulled himself over to the control console and flapped feebly at the crystals. He couldn't remember the sequence. Yes he could. He needed to breathe. He had to activate the ZPM. No, he'd done that; it was glowing. Was it? Rodney felt an arm around his chest and he was pulled away from the console and up. He fought as he broke the surface.

"No! No! I didn't... It isn't..."

"Rodney! It is done!"

"Is it?"

"Yes, need to get out! Come! Kick! Yes, R'dney, you're moving! Keep going!"

Rodney focussed on Teyla's words and kicked as well as he was able, hearing her encouraging, trembling, increasingly slurred words. He felt a hard surface before him and was distantly aware that Teyla couldn't possibly carry him and that getting out was only going to happen by his own efforts. He wallowed and heaved against the stairs, pushed up on his arms, fell back, pushed with his feet and felt water draining from his back and air against his skin. The weight of his body was immense, his exhaustion frightening but he kept moving, kept fighting until he had hauled himself completely onto the upper deck. He lay still, almost too tired to breathe, knowing he needed to move, that John and Ronon and all the people of this planet were depending on him.

oOo

"It's no good, Maddy, there's no way through!"

Ronon held his hand up in front of his face, an inadequate shield against the fierce heat of the flames.

"But Dad's this way! And the others! We can get through!"

"No!" He took the little girl's hand and pulled her away. "No, we can't! Now, think, Maddy! You know this forest, probably better than anyone except the animals. Where can we go?"

Maddy stumbled along next to Ronon, sniffing. She wiped her nose on her sleeve.

"There's a cave," she said, doubtfully. "The prissen use it sometimes. 'S not very big."

"Is it far?"

She shrugged. "No, but it won't make no difference how far it is, soon. Forest's burning."

Ronon squeezed her hand.

"I told you. McKay'll fix it. He's good with things like that."

Maddy sniffed again. "Even when everything's really bad?"

"Especially then."

oOo

The wind had changed and the leading edge of the wildfire seemed to race toward John, the intense heat reddening his left cheek. He felt like he could feel the hairs on his arm singeing.

"Boudicca, stop!"

She flicked her tail and sped up and he tried to keep up with her, weaving in and out of the trees, leaping fallen wood, stumbling into hidden pits. The flames were not rushing as fast as they would have on open scrubland, the mature trees slowing them down, but even so, John didn't see how they could escape by running parallel to the flames. Could they run through the leading edge to the burnt ground beyond? It would be a huge risk. He glanced to his right and saw yellow flame that way too; the wind must have carried burning embers away to start more pockets of wildfire that would soon take hold and spread.

John felt the ground begin to climb and he slowed, exhausted, his chest searing with pain, his lungs choking with smoke. Boudicca gave an encouraging yowl from somewhere ahead, barely to be heard above the roar of the conflagration. He realised the ground had levelled off and then it started to drop, steeply, and John's weary legs couldn't control his descent. He fell and crashed down between the trees, his tac vest catching on briars and then ripping free, his P90 flying up and hitting him in the face. With a thump that left him winded, John landed, sprawled on his front and felt a snap and a flood of pain in his chest. He coughed and couldn't stop and pushed himself over so he was lying on one side, but still he coughed and choked and couldn't breathe. He began to panic, his legs and arms flailing, felt the firmness of a rock at his back and kicked against the ground until he was more or less upright. He could breathe; rasping and labouring, he managed to draw air into his lungs and shakily push it out, feeling the bubble of liquid. He wiped his mouth and it was dark and he couldn't see, but he could smell blood.

"Bouddie..." He coughed and wheezed in and out. "Bouddie, you there?"

The priss didn't come; John didn't believe she'd left him - why didn't she come? The fire on the ridge far above lit up the night sky, but not much light penetrated down to where he'd fallen. He couldn't see the forest about him and blinked and squinted, wondering if this was it; was his vision fading, was he near the end? The dim scene blurred again and John saw a swirling shape in front of his pain-clouded eyes; the impression of rock, then sand, then the turn and twist of leaves, like an eddy that played with leaves on a windy day.

"Come to finish me off?" he croaked, and spat as his mouth filled with blood.

The creature, that was more alien than anything John had ever known, moved nearer. A tentacle-like twist of its something-and-nothing form reached out toward him, and he believed that this was it: his death. John would not let himself close his eyes.