"I told ya I wanted to examine you one more time before ya did anything else," Carson chastised the colonel.
Ronon did his best not to say I told you so, but for once he kept his thoughts to himself. After all, he was awkwardly holding on to Sheppard's BDUs with nowhere else to put them. He'd been helping the man get dressed until the Doc came by to give one final scrutiny. Sheppard sat on the bed perturbed, in his black t-shirt, boxers---minus his pants. Ronon sighed and slung the desired items over his shoulder while trying to look elsewhere.
"Considering all your bloody attempts to undo my work, these stitches are healing nominally well. The skin has nice elasticity and tone. There are no signs of infection and good approximation of the tissues," the physician complimented, prodding the zig zags of thread that held the large wound together.
"Can I finish changing now?"
"Some patients might like to know that there'll be minimal scarring," Carson huffed.
"I've got somewhere to be," Sheppard reminded the man needlessly.
"Aye, I know all about your plan, but not before I re-dress your wound." Carson proceeded to secure a large amount of white gauze around the thigh. "You may be impatient to get goin', however, you forget that your artery was damaged and this type of injury doesn't heal fast just because you want it to. It'll be a while before you recover full use of your leg. When's the last time you had a dosage of your pain meds?"
Sheppard looked over at Ronon with an expression that forbade him from squealing.
"About an hour ago," Sheppard lied.
"Really? That why you're squirming so much?" Carson dogged him. "I'm going to put these ace bandages on now to give the muscle a bit more stability."
The colonel grimaced, his body flinching at the added pressure from the wrap.
"Why not take a small amount, lad? I know you won't let me administer more during this foolish operation."
"I need to be alert and won't be if I'm flying through the clouds."
"But Colonel--"
"Now, if you want to give me a mild stimulant to counter act any fogginess…"
"Not bloody likely!" Carson exclaimed as he completed the last circumference of beige material and secured it in place with metal clips.
"Thought I'd ask."
The physician glared a full minute before packing away his equipment. "Thank goodness I control your antibiotics and all your other medications. Prescriptions are not ingredients in a recipe. You don't mess around with mixing such things." He finished his lecture and gazed worriedly at his patient. "Nothing I can do to talk you out of this?"
"No."
Ronon lowered the BDUs for the pilot. Sheppard stepped into the first hole with his right leg, grabbing his shoulder for balance. Then he lifted his left leg as little as possible before placing weight on both feet, pulling up his pants with plenty of cursing.
While Sheppard zipped up, Ronon retrieved the pilot's belt, gun, and knife, handing them over.
"Thanks."
Ronon grabbed a pair of boots stashed in the corner and dropped them on the floor next to Sheppard's feet. The colonel peered down at them and chewed his bottom lip in concentration. Carson, who had waited quietly, tutted out loud. "Oh, no you don't. No bending or undo straining. I'll help."
Ronon didn't watch out of respect and stalked back and forth, psyching himself up for what was to come.
Carson finished with the boots and the colonel appeared almost normal, geared up in his uniform. Ronon went to Rodney's desk and picked up the new tac vest containing the bulletproof lining and made sure his team leader put it on.
Carson brought over the wheelchair and the military commander of Atlantis grudgingly settled into it. "Let's get this over with."
Ronon pulled out his weapon, the doors opened as the three exited and security escorted to them to the meeting.
They entered a spacious room with high ceilings and a large wooden table set up on the other side. The area was as large as the gate room with a wide open space barely filled with furniture. Ronon spotted several snipers in the rafters above and he knew a dozen Marines patrolled inside and two extra units were on stand by just outside in the halls.
"Maybe he won't even attack. I mean, this room is too well secured. It'd be bloody insane," Carson whispered as he wheeled the colonel towards the table.
"Voulsh won't be able to resist taking this chance; not striking now would be an affront to everything he stood for," Ronon commented, walking along Sheppard's side.
"Stood for? I didn't think murderers had principles," Carson growled.
"It's a different set of values," Ronon retorted.
He and Sheppard analyzed the same things, eyes scanning the weak spots of the room and where they'd set up an ambush if their roles were reversed. The three of them came through the western set of doors as Teyla came from the other entrance.
"You can park me right here," Sheppard instructed.
The physician rolled the chair to the far end of the rectangular table. Teyla strode over, carrying a long item in her hands.
"That mine?" the colonel asked, pointing to the cane.
Teyla handed it to him. "If you think you're able."
"They coming?" Sheppard asked.
"Right behind me," Teyla replied.
Sheppard placed one hand on the table while the other gripped the cane as he pulled himself to his feet shakily while Teyla held on to his elbow to help steady him. He acclimated to being upright before taking two steps away from the wheelchair.
"Colonel!" Carson exclaimed, unprepared for Sheppard's little plan.
The doors opened and the honored guests of the day arrived, closely followed by Colonel Caldwell, Rodney, and Elizabeth.
Carson moved to go after his patient but Ronon grabbed his shoulder. "Allow him these few minutes."
The physician reluctantly nodded and he walked by Sheppard's side with Teyla taking the other.
Six members of the Genii followed Ladon Radim as he passed the first end of the oak table. Sheppard straightened his back when the contingent entered and he walked using only the meager support of his cane to aid him. Ronon and Teyla flanked him on each side since the colonel no longer relied on the table for help.
Ladon and one member of his staff broke away from the group who huddled behind to give their encounter space. "Colonel Sheppard, I did not see you in the gate room. It's good to know you will be part of what I hope is a new beginning for our two peoples." The Genii leader held out his hand.
Sheppard shook it, the white of his bandaged arm a stark contrast against his black uniform. "It's what we wanted from the very beginning," he replied.
"Of course, and I hope to rectify that as well as any new problems that some of my people might have caused you." Ladon indicated the cane. "I hope you're doing well."
"Oh this?" Sheppard grinned. "Football is a rough sport."
"I see." Ladon turned to the man next to him. "This is Commander Pelmon, the head of my military."
"Nice to finally meet you, Colonel." Pelmon gripped Sheppard's hand in a larger, meatier one. "I've read much about you."
"All farfetched, I'm sure."
Pelmon was a short, beefy man that reminded Ronon of a beast of burden from back on his home world. A large, thick neck connected his sturdy frame to a shaved bald, square jawed head, making his age hard to tell. He grunted and resisted shaking hands with the two men when it came his turn. His radar was cast in a large area, seeking movement while giving each Genii a stern expression.
"This is Larkin Bzenin, one of my scientists." A pencil thin guy with thick glasses shook Sheppard's hand quickly and scurried away.
Finally the Genii leader turned to his left. "This is Ashlin Krops, my diplomatic advisor." The lean man with silver hair took the colonel's hand. "You're not as imposing looking as stories like to describe you."
Sheppard forced a smile. "Didn't know I was so popular."
Krops smoothed out a tan jacket that looked so heavily ironed with starch that it could have been store bought. "How could you not be?"
Elizabeth came up behind them all, her expression matching the ones on Caldwell's and McKay's faces in response to the absurdity of the colonel's prideful charade. "Shall we take a seat?"
Ladon pulled out a chair while the rest of his entourage found places to sit. "Yes, let's get started."
Sheppard hobbled heavily back, his steps slow and methodical. Sweat dripped from the back of his neck and Ronon stayed only a few inches away, just in case he needed help. He smiled despite himself when the colonel made it without assistance; the demonstration must have hurt, but he understood how much it meant to his team leader.
Ladon and Weir spoke about things like road maps and foundations while McKay concentrated on his computer, all his nervous glances at the lights in the ceiling a horrible giveaway to their plan. When the scientist wasn't sending a signal to anyone who'd notice his activities, he was casting worried looks at the colonel. Caldwell whispered into his head set, covering his speech with his hand to coordinate with the teams on full alert.
"I think setting up a way to communicate with Atlantis instead of sending a radio signal from another planet might be a good first step in creating stronger ties," Ladon suggested.
"That would require giving you a code specially set up for you, so as not to reveal our survival to others," Weir responded.
The whole talking thing went on and on and Ronon resisted the urge to get up and roam around. His place was next to Sheppard. Once Voulsh was flushed out, his CO's job was complete. The table they all sat around was made out of thick steel, the outer surface encased with wood, making it the perfect defensive cover if things went down as hoped.
Sheppard was giving the discussions a cursory listen, making eye contact enough for their guests to think he was paying attention. Ronon hated the waiting game; every minute that passed without incident, the more it grated on his nerves. The voices in the room would fade in and out, mutating into a constant static hum.
"We would find any refinements to our nuclear technology to be quite helpful in our current program." Larkin, the head scientist, continued.
"It could use it," Rodney cracked.
"And your help would be greatly appreciated," the man replied, pushing back his glasses. "If you would excuse me…" The advisor nodded. "I need to your use your facilities."
"One of our security will escort you to one," Caldwell replied from across the table, pressing his com piece.
Ronon's eyes narrowed at the little man while he rose from his seat. Larkin pushed back his chair just as his head flung back and an energy blast blew the front of his skull apart.
"Down! Everyone down!" Caldwell ordered.
Ronon shielded Sheppard with his body, shoving the colonel to the ground.
"Ronon!" Sheppard protested, one hand gripping his 9 mil and the other flailing around as the wheelchair tipped over.
"Don't move," Ronon ordered, shoving the colonel under the safety of the table and swinging around, using it for cover at the same time.
Ronon drew his weapon and aimed it in the direction of the attack, ignoring the shouts and protests from the Genii as he focused on locating the target.
"Now, McKay!" he shouted.
The room was thrown into darkness, the light fixtures casting an eerie glow on everyone. The ghostly illumination turned everything into dark shades of blue except for the shimmering form of a man standing at the far end. The sleek exoskeleton shined like aluminum under the change in spectrum.
"Fire on the suspect!" Caldwell ordered.
Ronon had already pulled the trigger of his blaster as every Marine shelled the glowing assassin with a hail of bullets.
Voulsh navigated inside the heart of Atlantis with ease, knowing all resources were being diverted for the ruse. He used Sheppard's own computer to locate where the talks were taking place.
He found a solider and stayed right behind him, matching every stride with his own and keeping perfectly in sync with him on his way to their mutual destination. He wouldn't have been able to use this technique in the bowels of the city, with full squadrons, but this served his purpose now.
Voulsh followed the dark skinned man past check points and intersections and, once inside the meeting room, he stuck close to the human until he spotted a corner to take a position in. He longed for the tactical advantage of the high ground, but there was no way to scale into the ceiling undetected since every security person wielded the device that would give away his movement. He settled for the element of surprise.
The meeting was already underway with everyone involved seated at the table. His cloaked suit would not give him away, concealing even his body temperature.
He pulled out his weapon and set it to kill. Sheppard was out in the open and he aimed right for the center of his forehead, knowing he'd never miss from this distance, his accuracy unquestionable. His finger tightened over the trigger, a part of him still unsatisfied with this mode of death.
It been a long battle and to finish it like this made his hand quake. Emotional reactions were a weakness, but the core values he swore to uphold kept him from applying the final squeeze.
The inside of his visor blipped at a spike in energy readings and he turned his attention to one of the Genii, his sensors indicating movement under the table. He had a difficult time honing in on the differential and adjusted the frequency to calibrate on the single area. The Genii was activating a combustible source.
No. He wouldn't allow another to interfere with what was rightfully his to execute.
"And your help would be greatly appreciated. If you would excuse me, I need to your use your facilities."
Coward. It was a sacrilege against everything he stood for. Voulsh switched his aim to the face of the dishonorable scum.
He pulled the trigger and wasted no time training his weapon back at Sheppard, but his target was forced out of sight, the runner once again denying him victory. A part of him flared in annoyance and the other was secretly glad for the denial.
He felt the impact of the projectiles and his vision was blinded by a washout of color from the lights above. Momentarily distracted, he was bombarded by 'Lantean weapons, his body armor barely able to protect him from the volume of ammunition.
Voulsh fired back blindly, pulling out his second weapon and using both against the onslaught as he dove to the ground. The strange lighting guided the 'Lanteans' fire right to him and he was knocked down by the sheer force of their weapons, a pain lancing through his shoulder. He went to his hands and knees in preparation for a run towards the table.
Despite the malfunction of his equipment from the frequency change, his visor warned him of a dangerous build up of energy and he covered his head, the room rocking from an explosion triggered by the scheming Genii.
Sheppard pulled out his Beretta just as Larkin's face disintegrated. Before he had time to aim at the shooter, Ronon's bulky body blocked his view and he was forced out of his chair and shoved to the ground, the wheelchair falling on top of him.
"Ronon!"
"Don't move!" the big Satedan ordered him.
Sheppard's leg exploded from being jostled, but it didn't matter, since he was unable to crawl anywhere with Ronon's legs blocking the way.
"Now, McKay!" Ronon's voice boomed.
Sheppard's eardrums vibrated from the fire of several P90s and other weapons eruptions. Members of the Genii shouted over the noise of the fight, but their voices were drowned out by the chaos around them. He could hear Caldwell over the roar of bullets while he tried to warn the others to keep their heads down.
He couldn't locate the rest of his team. The conference table had a specially designed wall built under it that ran all the way down the middle. He dragged his injured leg along the floor and looked up when he heard Ladon's voice from a few feet away. The leader of the Genii tried to yell something just as Sheppard was thrown back by a sudden concussive force. As he was trapped under the table, his body had no place to go, except get knocked around under it.
He didn't know how long he'd been out, guessing only a few seconds as his nostrils filled with the smell of smoke and burning materials. He had trouble getting his body to move, the feeling of disorientation making it hard to think. There was a rumble of confused voices; anger, shock, concern, all mixed into a jumble of sound.
"This was a set up!"
Sheppard used the fallen wheelchair to prop himself over, since there was no way he could stand. The ash and smoke irritated his eyes but he could tell the wall behind him was stained black from the blast. He looked to his left to see Ronon trying to get up after being knocked down by the blast, but Sheppard was too distracted by the commotion a few feet away.
"You tried to kill us!"
Sheppard recognized Pelmon's voice and made out the bullish man arguing with Elizabeth. He breathed a sigh of relief to see her unharmed, although a little worse for wear. He kept an eye on the irate Genii when he noticed both Ladon and Teyla lay on the ground unmoving just a few feet away.
"Teyla," he croaked.
Krops ran over to assess their condition. Sheppard noticed the blood on Ladon's face as the diplomat checked for a pulse. "He needs a doctor!"
"What about Teyla?" Sheppard asked.
Pelmon angrily rushed over to tend to his superior. The military man froze when he saw his leader motionless on the floor and his face screwed into a mask of fury. "Look what you've done! I knew we couldn't trust you!"
Sheppard should have recognized the short tempered reaction as the stout Genii pulled out a hidden gun and turned it on Elizabeth. He lifted his Beretta to fire, only to watch the commander's chest blossom in red wetness.
Ronon ran over, too late to disarm the man and they both watched Rodney step awkwardly over, his blue eyes appalled at what he had just done.
"Oh God," McKay muttered.
Ronon kicked the gun away from the injured Genii's hand and looked up at the shell-shocked physicist. "Nice shot."
"Elizabeth, you okay?" Sheppard asked, still struggling to get up.
"I'm fine," she assured him.
Sheppard's eyes went back to Teyla. Frustrated at his lack of mobility, he found his discarded cane and grabbed it.
"Carson!" Ronon hollered.
"No, don't worry." Elizabeth instructed, tapping her com piece. "This is Weir, we're going to Plan B."
Sheppard surveyed the destruction as the room disappeared when they were all beamed out.
It had all gone to Hell in a hand basket. Caldwell had been right to be cautious; the entire ruse had exploded in their faces. Literally.
Sheppard was furious; he'd put everyone that he had tried so hard to protect at risk ... it'd been foolish to use the alliance talks for a trap... that only worked in the movies. He'd drawn Voulsh's attention alright; the assassin tried to blown them all to kingdom come. Now there were more casualties, including Ladon and no one had informed him how Teyla was doing.
After their arrival in the infirmary and it was determined he wasn't bleeding, they had ushered him into the back where he could be secured. Sheppard rubbed at his temples, looking around at the supply area in disgust and tapping his cane in annoyance against the chair leg.
This was all his fault.
"How are you doing?"
He looked up at the concerned face of Elizabeth.
"Fine. How's Teyla?"
Elizabeth ran a hand through her disheveled hair. "Concussion, broken arm, but other than that, she'll be fine."
"Thank goodness," he breathed. "And Ladon?"
"Lacerations to his face, first degree burns to his shoulder and a mild head injury. Carson thinks he'll make a full recovery."
Sheppard sighed. "I guess we just set our negotiations back into the dark ages. Not only did we keep vital information away from the Genii, but we almost got their leader blown up and shot their military commander."
"Pelmon's critical, but Carson's hopeful. We'll know where we stand when Ladon wakes up. I'm sure he'll understand. After all, Voulsh is their Pandora's box."
Sheppard leaned back in his chair, the movement exacerbating the agony in his leg and all the aches he'd ignored while waiting. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"You really should just let someone take a look at you, John. I know you're in pain."
Sheppard channeled the throbbing of his limb into his voice. "Later. Did we get him? Is Voulsh dead?"
"No." Elizabeth squeezed his arm. "During the chaos of the bomb, he escaped. Several Marines were hurt, but there were no casualties."
"How's Rodney?"
Elizabeth shook her head as he kept changing the subject. "He was shaken up, but oddly enough, Ronon's hung around him while waiting for news on Teyla."
At least one thing was getting back to normal, Sheppard thought.
"Look, John----"
"Ma'am."
They both looked at the sergeant who stood outside the room. "Colonel Caldwell needs to speak to you."
"Alright, tell him I'll be right there." Elizabeth turned back to him.
Sheppard waved her off. "Go. I'll be fine."
"We're not done. We'll figure something out," she said, trying to reassure him.
Sure they would.
Sheppardground his teeth together; the throbbing of his leg demanded attention and he used the fiery pain to focus.
When would this all end?
It wouldn't matter; Voulsh would keep trying until one of them was dead... it hit him like a punch to the gut. That was the answer, wasn't it?
He looked around, noticing for the first time where they had stashed him-- the supply room. Sheppard groaned when he forced himself up, using the wall for extra support, and hobbled over to one of the cabinets, his cane quaking in his vice grip.
He scanned each glass unit, spotting the desired items, and pulled out his gun, using the handle to break the glass. After double checking to see if the noise attracted the wrong type of attention, he rifled through the bottles until he found a small box. He cracked it open, pulling out the emergency morphine injectors used in the field. He stashed a few, leaving one out, and fished through the other shelves, locating the stimulants on the third one.
You don't mess around with mixing such things.
"Don't have much of a choice," he muttered to himself.
Sheppard wasn't a complete moron, knowing that combining the two was a little like playing Russian roulette, but some stims were less evil than others and he smiled when he found the ephedrine.
25mg per dose. Do not exceed 150 mg in a 24 hour period.
Sheppard stared at both auto injectors and chewed on his bottom lip. Before he could change his mind, he gimped towards the chair, undid his belt, pushed down his BDUs and exposed his thigh. The medicine hovered over his skin as he questioned his sanity.
When images of the pandemonium and destruction from earlier flashed in his mind, he slammed the morphine into the muscle. The warming sensation flooded his extremities and made his head feel three times too heavy.
He grabbed the other drug and stuck himself with the ephedrine without hesitation to counteract the inviting peace.
He waited until the numbness encompassed his thigh, wrapping it in a soft cast of cotton and molasses. The pulsating waves of pain quieted and his limb tingled with pins and needles. He rose carefully to his feet, the muscles already asleep from the narcotic, and he wavered when a wave of dizziness overcame him.
He placed one foot in front of the other, able to lean on his cane without falling over. He remembered that blending the two powerful drugs had the unusual side effect of enhancing analgesia and would use it for all its worth. The things you can learn reading medical journals to pass the time away, he mused.
With his leg blissfully unaware of the extra strain and weight, he limped heavily to the door. He opened it and walked as steadily as possible towards the two Marines guarding it.
Both men saluted. "Sir."
"I want you both to watch over the Genii we have inside the infirmary and make sure there are no retaliations for what happened today."
Sergeant Jones looked at his companion then back at his CO. "But, sir we're supposed..."
"That's an order. I'm meeting with Colonel Caldwell. He has another security escort waiting for me outside."
They considered him for a second and Sheppard raised his voice. "Now, gentlemen!"
"Yes, sir!"
The good thing about being thrown in the back of the infirmary, away from all the action, was that it was easier to slip away without being seen. Sheppard carefully inched his way from one corner to the other and bypassed the waiting area altogether. Getting around his personal guards was one thing, but leaving the infirmary would be another story.
Lying about capturing Voulsh and needing extra security in other areas of the city wasn't too much of a stretch. He reminded the two Marines standing outside the infirmary that all communications were still not being used and that Caldwell was expecting them. He waited for the men to leave before he hobbled his way towards the armory.
Staff Sergeant Riggs was a very large black man with tattoos adorning both bulging biceps. Despite legs the size of redwoods and a physical presence to rival even Ronon, Riggs had the best sense of humor. The guy could entertain them all with a one man stand up routine that left them in stitches. He was a big pussycat, except when guarding post.
"Colonel."
"At ease, Sergeant."
Sheppard knew how terrible he appeared, barely able to walk in a straight line. Beads of perspiration beaded along his forehead and he could feel damp spots under his arms and down his back. He was surprised that the burly Sergeant couldn't hear the jack-hammer of his heart.
Despite the fact that his leg felt like a gigantic slab of meat, Sheppard stumbled inside, cutting off Riggs's questioning protest with his other hand. "Just picking up a few items."
He had to keep things lightweight but grabbed two extra clips for his Berretta, snagging his P90 and a decent amount of C-4.
Sheppard still didn't allow Riggs to question anything when he exited. "We've secured Voulsh. I'm heading over there to get him to talk." Sheppard smiled, laying on the charm. "Still maintain radio silence until further instructed."
He saluted the big guy without giving him a moment to think as he made a very wobbly trek towards the transporter. He was relieved that he didn't have to go on foot towards his next destination; the tenderized mess of his leg had begun to protest more and more and he didn't know how much more stress he could place on it before it failed him.
They had to be onto him by now. He'd made one stop at a computer terminal to put in a few command codes for what he was planning. Sheppard glanced at his watch, trying to move as fast as his damaged body would allow. There was only so much speed he could manage, even if his thigh was doped up enough to turn off most of the nerve endings.
The jumper bay wasn't guarded, since Voulsh had his own ship and without the gene, stealing one was highly doubtful. Sheppard leaned on everything possible once he was inside the jumper and, by the time he reached the cockpit, his leg finally gave out. He grabbed the back of the seat and used it to haul his body onto the chair.
He panted and fought for breath as the control panel spun in front of him. He closed his eyes, willing the dizziness to pass and allow his body time to calm down.
Easy, John.
He took a shuddering breath, skipped the checklist for take off and piloted the jumper towards the gate room. As soon as he was in the air, his radio began chirping.
Caldwell's angry voice filled the air. "Colonel Sheppard! Is that you? What the hell are you doing? Return the jumper immediately."
He ignored him, doing the same to Elizabeth when she was on the com a few minutes later. Even after Rodney's outraged voice exploded in his ear, he said nothing.
"Can't you override him?" he heard Elizabeth ask franticly.
"No... Not in time!" Rodney yelled in response.
Sheppard clicked on the radio, but not to answer his friends. He flew the jumper in front of the gate and dialed the number to the mainland.
"Voulsh. This is Sheppard. I'm tired of playing games, aren't you? If you want to finish this just you and me, I'll be waiting. Come and get me."
He clicked off the transmission and didn't heed the pleads from his friends to stop. Sheppard entered the 'gate, knowing that it would all end, one way or another. This time, on his terms.
A/N: Again thank you everyone for your wonderful support, it means a lot!