A/N: this chapter was harder to write than the others. Also, please be patient with the lack of accuracy in the radio communications. Thanks again for the reviews, and keep them coming.
Disclaimer: Stargate: Atlantis, its characters and locations, are the intellectual property of others. This story represents an amateur effort with no intent to infringe.
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The Battle for Earth
Hive
Ronon woke McKay after about six hours. Sheppard was still asleep and less restless, but he was still feverish.
"So, today?"
"I can't be exactly sure since we were stunned and I wasn't sure how much time passed. If the Colonel's estimate is correct, then it will be today." Rodney started rummaging through their limited food supply and came up with a fruit that didn't look like citrus.
"That drug he keeps talking about. That's to help with fever?"
"Yes, Tylenol, it's an anti-inflammatory, helps reduce fever, etc." Didn't taste like citrus either.
The Satedan grabbed the fruit to get the scientist's attention. "How much do we have?"
McKay gave up and looked at the drug bottle. "A regular dose is 2 every 4 hours, and there are 36 pills here. That is enough for three days at the regular dosage, or less if you take more."
"I think we should start dosing him now." Ronon looked over to where John was still sleeping, now shivering some from the fever. "Even if things don't happen today, we have enough to give him some tomorrow. He needs to be more in control to fly."
"What, you don't think he can fly? I realize he won't have my interface to help him, but he seemed to think he could. This is great. To get all this way to be splattered on my home planet."
"He can fly. He will fly better with a lower fever."
"Oh, ok, that makes sense. We should give him four now to get the concentration up then see how he does. I wish Carson were here. His voodoo is sometimes useful, especially with the Colonel who cannot seem to keep his body whole for any significant length of time."
They grabbed some water and Ronon woke up John. "Sheppard, wake up. Drugs."
Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard opened his eyes and tried to focus. He knew he wasn't in the infirmary. Wrong smell. In fact, the smell was pretty bad. "Ronon? What's going on?"
McKay, looking him over carefully, asked "How are you?"
"I'm good," said Sheppard, working to raise himself up without moving his leg.
"Well, it's time for breakfast and we thought you might like your fruit served with drugs. That way you might actually have a chance to fly the dart when the time comes and not crash us into the South Pole."
Sheppard took the drugs without question, downed some water, and leaned back against a wall. "Is there any food left?"
"Fruit," said Ronon, offering him a piece.
"Thanks," said John, taking a small bite of the fruit. Rodney had retrieved his own breakfast from Ronon and was busily looking for more. Ronon ate slowly, studying John.
"So, can you fly?"
John looked up at him. "I feel like crap, and the leg is on fire, but I can fly. I have to."
"Take the drugs today in case you need to. You going to fly like that?" Ronon indicated John's current state of dress. To stay cooler, and keep the pressure off his leg, he was stripped to his boxers, and they were the worse for long wear.
John nodded, finished most of the fruit, then reached for his flight suit. He eased it over his leg and managed to get it up to his hips before he had to sit down. Leaning against the wall, he went over the plan in his head for the fiftieth time. Their lives would be in his hands, and he was already beginning to worry. He had to save his team. Unbidden, the image of Elizabeth Weir, saying "Be safe," floated across his mind. He would try.
Atlantis
Elizabeth Weir sat in the mess hall stirring her oatmeal and drinking coffee.
"May I join you?" She looked up to see Carson Beckett holding a tray and indicating the chair across from her.
"Sure, Carson, but I was just about to leave." She moved to pick up her tray but was stopped by a hand on hers.
"Elizabeth, you haven't eaten anything. You have visibly lost weight. You must take better care of yourself. Atlantis needs you." He figured if he couldn't get her to take care of herself for herself, maybe he could use guilt.
She sagged back into her chair, looking down at her tray. "I'm sorry, Carson. I'm just not hungry. Nothing looks or smells good."
"Elizabeth, did it ever occur to you that maybe you are suffering from a combination of stress and depression? Your appetite is suppressed, and I bet you aren't sleeping either." He raised his eyebrows in question, and she nodded reluctantly, looking down again.
"Carson, I know. I'm trying. I took some time off yesterday evening. It's just that today, the hive ships will probably reach Earth." She paused and looked him in the eye. "I can't help but worry today. I'll eat . . . eventually."
Teyla approached their table. "Excuse me for interrupting. Dr. Weir, are we going to spar today?"
Using her appearance as an excuse to leave, Elizabeth once more picked up her tray. "Yes, Teyla, I'll change and join you in the gym." She looked back at Carson. "Your concerns are noted, Dr. Beckett." She then turned to leave.
Beckett stopped her. "Dr. Weir, my concerns are serious. I will check in on you tomorrow."
She nodded and left with Teyla. As she walked away, Carson noted, with even more concern, how her clothing hung on her frame as if it were two sizes too large. "Oh, lass, when are ye goin' to let others shoulder the burden with ye," he said to himself as he began to eat his own breakfast.
Hive
"Sheppard, they just dropped out of hyperspace," said Ronon, running over to where John was sitting against the wall with his eyes closed. Rodney McKay had grabbed what gear they were taking and was heading for the hatch leading to the landing bay to set the timer on the F-302 engine overload.
Opening his eyes, John tried to push himself up only to jar his leg again. Wincing, he held out his hand to Ronon. "OK, let's go." Ronon grabbed John and half carried him to the dart they had selected previously. They had already installed the IFF transponder as well as the F-302's radio. The radio from the survival gear was also in the dart as a backup.
Zipping up his flight suit the rest of the way, John eased himself into the cockpit, stifling a groan as he had to bend his leg to get it to fit. He took a bottle of water and the pill bottle Ronon handed him, and took the time to swallow two more Tylenol. He looked up at Ronon as the Satedan paused.
"Thanks," said Sheppard. "Now be sure Rodney is ready, then get out into the landing bay so I can get you."
"Are you up to this?"
"Do I have a choice?" said Sheppard. Seeing Ronon's concern, however, he tried to flash the familiar cocky grin, but it didn't reach his feverish eyes. After a brief hand clasp, Ronon took off.
As the canopy came down, Sheppard took in a large breath. "I hope I still remember how to fly this thing without Rodney's laptop," he thought as he started up the engines.
Ronon's trip to the landing bay was slowed as he had to dodge the wraith who were beginning to enter the launching area. He still was able to reach Rodney in a few moments. "Done?"
Rodney nodded, set a switch in the small ship's cockpit, and handed a pack to Ronon as they both moved out of the shadows and into the landing bay. "We've got 10 minutes. I sure hope Mr. 'I'm Good' knows what he's doing."
There wasn't time for any more conversation as a dart beam engulfed them.
The wraith dart looped under the hive ship and headed away from the fighting and toward the South Pole. Sheppard turned on the radio and the transponder. He had taken a chance on leaving the radio at the same frequency used by the F-302s on the Daedalus. He was also scanning the heads up display for possible targets. So far he had no ships in the immediate vicinity. As he approached the upper atmosphere, however, a blinking light alerted him to an F-302 streaking toward him just as he heard the radio come on.
"Unidentified craft, I am reading your IFF signature. Acknowledge this transmission immediately or prepare to be shot down."
"This is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force. I am in the wraith dart headed to Antarctica. Do not fire. Repeat, do not fire. "
There was a pause.
"Shep? This is Cam. I am pulling alongside you for verification. "
"Cam! Great to hear from you. Thanks for throwing the party for my return. But negative on the verification. This craft does not have a clear canopy. I need two things. First, tell the other ships to stay clear of the hive I just came from. There should be an explosion in about 4 minutes.."
"Acknowledged. I'll relay to the fleet."
John listened as Colonel Cameron Mitchell put out the warning to the rest of the Earth vessels. All of them pulled back and concentrated their efforts on the other hive and the darts.
"Message sent. You leave a little parting gift?"
"Yeah, to say thanks for the hospitality."
"What was the other thing you needed?"
"Help me connect to the base in Antarctica, and be my wingman until I get there. The opaque canopy makes it more difficult to get bearings."
"OK, I'm at your 8 o'clock. The base should be monitoring this frequency, but I'll call just in case. Antarctica Base, this is Mitchell. Please acknowledge."
"Antarctica base, here, Colonel, what can we do for you?
"There is a visitor who wants to come for a visit. Standby. Shep, they're all yours. Looking forward to hearing the story of how you came to be in a dart. Mitchell out."
"Thanks, Cam. Antarctica base, this is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of Atlantis, do you read?
"This is Antarctica base, go ahead Colonel, it's great to hear from you."
"Thought you guys might want a hand. However, I'm in an unfamiliar ship with a rather strange passenger space. I have two passengers that I will have to beam out before I land. We do not have cold weather gear. I repeat, we have no gear. I will beam them down as close to the tunnel as possible before making a swing back to land in the same area. Can you have gear available in … five minutes? ."
"Colonel, this is O'Neill. Nice to have you visit. We're checking for gear now. How much?"
"There are three of us with no gear. Uh, two extra large and one double extra large. We also need food and water. A strong dose of antibiotics with some Tylenol would also be good. If you could have some supplies in the elevator, we could take care of things on the way down."
"Wilco, Colonel. Gear at tunnel and rations in elevator. Should there be a doctor with the antibiotics?
"Might be a good idea, General. I'm coming in wounded. I'll probably need help getting out of the dart. The other two passengers are ok.
"Acknowledged, Colonel. There will be two marines to get you out. We're keeping the chair warm for you. Antarctica out."
"Five minutes, General. Sheppard out."
Just as he signed off, there was a large explosion above and behind him.
"Shep, this is Cam. Was that your parting gift? The other fighters are reporting that the ship appears to be breaking in half."
"That's some of McKay's work. Let's just say my F-302 went out with a bang. Sheppard out."
"Mitchell out."
John took a bearing on New Zealand and headed to McMurdo, noting that Mitchell stayed in formation. He'd made the run so many times he could do it in his sleep, which was fortunate since he was still feverish. From McMurdo he took a direct line to the ancient outpost he had visited two years before. Had it only been two years? It seemed like a lifetime.
As he approached the white dome, Mitchell peeled off, and Sheppard slowed the dart and carefully approached the tunnel entrance. He managed to beam McKay and Ronon to a space 10 yards from the mouth of the tunnel. He then made a loop and came back and set the dart near the helipad. The winds of the Antarctic winter whipped at the dart's canopy as he raised it, and he hoped that his teammates had made it inside. He struggled to get his leg moving so he could get out of the cockpit. As the first blast of wind hit him, he felt a parka being thrown around his shoulders and two sets of arms pulling him out of the cockpit and easing him to the ground.
"This way Colonel," shouted one marine over the howl of the wind. Leaning on the two marines, Sheppard was pulled toward the tunnel entrance and finally out of the wind.
Once in the tunnel, another pair of marines took over. "We need to hustle, sir," one said, as they slung John's arms over their shoulders and moved at a jog to the elevator at the other end. John was pleased to see Ronon and Rodney already wrapped in parkas and drinking coffee in the elevator waiting for him. They didn't look any the worse for wear. The lift started as soon as he stepped in.
Before he could get the parka on completely, a doctor pushed up his sleeve, gave him a shot and took his vitals. Then he was given two Tylenol and a bottle of water. When he got that down, he finally got his arms into the parka. He looked up from pulling up the zipper to see the grim face of General Jack O'Neill staring at him.
"Glad you could make the party, Colonel. We've saved you the best seat in the house."
"Actually, General, I was wondering why you hadn't claimed it yourself."
"Well," said O'Neill, "it seems that though I have the gene, the extra knowledge I had from the ancient database was what allowed me to operate the chair easily. Daniel tried everyone with the gene in the chair and the best any can do is one drone at a time. He came for me as a last resort. Needless to say, your talents have been sorely missed."
"Then it's a good thing we dropped in," said John, as he finished his coffee. It sure tasted good after more than three weeks of water and power bars. As he thought of their limited supplies of the last weeks, he started looking around for some rations.
"Here, Colonel," said a marine as he thrust a sandwich into John's hands. John didn't hesitate but tore into the package and began eating. He managed about half a turkey sandwich before the elevator finally reached the bottom.
"Showtime, colonel," said O'Neill, as everyone jogged over to the chair, the marines continuing to help Sheppard.
John dropped into the chair and immediately pulled up a holographic image of the battle overhead. As he visualized the hive ships and the darts, he began to pull on the drones and found them present but not moving.
"Rodney, the drones are there but they're won't fire!"
Dr. Rodney McKay, stuffing the last of a sandwich in his mouth, rushed over to the chair and commandeered a laptop. He plugged it into the interface he had originally created two years ago and began running diagnostics.
"McKay!"
"Just calm down, Colonel. Not everything goes faster than the speed of sound."
A technician went over to McKay and started describing what had been happening, but McKay, never missing a keystroke, cut him off. "If I wanted to know what lame brained things you guys had done to break the most powerful weapon in this galaxy, I would have asked. But if you want this fixed, I suggest you shut up."
"OK, Sheppard, the drones are in multiple silos. It looks like one silo is empty and you have to switch to the next silo. Think switch, or close then open, or something like that."
John closed his eyes, thinking of drones in silos, and suddenly everything clicked. Dozens of drones launched from their bays deep beneath the base and took flight.
Ronon stood against one wall and just watched. He had not seen the weapons chair of the Ancients in action before though he knew there was one on Atlantis. He was impressed with the fire power released. Dr. Rodney McKay continued to monitor the chair's operations. The doctor approached General O'Neill.
"Sir, I think you should be aware that the Lieutenant Colonel is very sick with a temperature of 102 degrees. He's fighting some kind of infection. I'm not sure why he isn't delirious at this point."
O'Neill looked at the doctor. "Given what we're facing, can he continue without treatment long enough to finish the battle?"
"Though I wouldn't advise it, given the circumstances, I have to say yes. However, once he is finished, he needs to receive treatment immediately. He may have brought back alien bacteria, and we need to get it under control quickly."
"Understood, Doctor. You get him as soon as this is finished. If he's half as good as I think he is, that should be pretty soon so stand by."
With the addition of the drones to the firepower of the Daedalus and the Prometheus, the tide of battle soon turned. John concentrated on the remaining hive ship, leaving the darts for the F-302s and the two larger ships. With his knowledge of the hive's weaknesses, he was able to target their most vulnerable systems, but the battle continued for several hours. After the last hive was destroyed, he was able to concentrate on the darts.
As the observers watched the holographic image of the space above Earth clear of enemy ships, General O'Neill contacted the Daedalus for confirmation.
"Daedalus this is O'Neill at Antarctica base. What's your status?"
"Antarctica this is Caldwell. We have confirmed the destruction of the hive ships. We estimate 20 darts are still in action but they will be dealt with momentarily. Thanks for the help with the drones. I see you finally found someone to run the chair."
"Actually, Colonel, the help came from Atlantis in the form of Colonel John Sheppard. I just wanted confirmation of what we are seeing on the holograms."
"Sheppard is there? That's good news, General. I can confirm the kills and we are showing no darts in flight. Is that your information?"
"It is, Colonel." McKay looked up from his laptop.
"Any idea how many of them made successful runs before they were shot down? Also, did any deposit wraith soldiers on Earth?"
At that comment, Ronon straightened up, wondering how to get to the fight.
O'Neill passed on the question to Caldwell.
"We are unsure at this time. At least twenty broke into the atmosphere, but we don't know if they collected or left anything.
McKay turned back to his laptop but said, "Remind the Colonel that the soldiers are very hard to kill and they might want to trace every dart that broke through."
"Caldwell, McKay suggests you pass on the word to track down every dart that got through our defenses. See you at the debriefing. O'Neill out."
"Acknowledged. Tell McKay I'm glad he made it. Daedalus out."
John Sheppard, knowing the targets were all accounted for, deactivated the chair and looked at his teammates. Seeing McKay busy with a laptop and terrorizing the staff, and Ronon looking fierce, he realized they were ok. With the relief, he finally gave in to the pain and encroaching darkness.