Laraby watched as Sheppard moved ahead of them, dipping the light occasionally to check the condition of the ground he was stepping on. Laraby secretly hoped that Sheppard would miss a hole and fall into it. That would solve a problem.

The rest of these men may have just finished basic training, but Laraby had been on tour in Afghanistan four years prior to this mission. He would have commanded a lot more respect than Sheppard currently was.

"This is shit," he heard Cole exclaim quietly.

"This isn't a mission, this is punishment," Collins affirmed.

"Yeah, we beat the guy up and this is what we get," Martins said with a smile.

Laraby felt a modicum of guilt for that potentially career ending stunt. He knew it had been wrong to do that to his CO, but his anger had just taken over. Like it always did. He knew Sheppard before he was his ranking officer and then some.

He'd had been best friends with Alex. Brothers even.

"Hey, I said you shouldn't have done that from the start," Andrews noted.

Andrews was a slight, younger man, with short black hair that was closely cropped and showed off an impressive scar along the back of his scalp. He had remained quiet, followed his CO's orders obligingly, and had tried to keep out of the bad mouthing and defamation of character that was going on.

"Shut up Andrews," Laraby mouthed as he walked through the echoing cavern.

What did this kid know? Young and inexperienced. Perhaps he would change his mind about Sheppard if he knew the truth.

Laraby became distracted.

There was a strange smell in the air that he couldn't place, and the walls were beginning to get slightly narrower, fuelling his latent Claustrophobia.

"You think this guy is for real?" Collins asked.

Laraby sighed, "No, he's a jerk."

He thought he saw Sheppard's back stiffen. He had obviously heard. Good.

"He was responsible for my friend's death a few years back," Laraby said with the intent for Sheppard to hear.

Holding his gun more firmly, Cole stepped closer to him, "Really?"

"Yeah," Laraby stated, "Colonel Stark ordered all teams to retreat when my friend Alex was captured by the Afghans. They said they would kill their American prisoners if they saw activity in the skies. Sheppard," he stumbled on the word, "defied Starks orders, took a chopper over enemy lines and…" he paused, "Sheppard's presence panicked the Afghans."

"They killed them?" Cole asked in a mystified voice.

Laraby nodded, "Cut off their heads and dumped the bodies where we could find them."

"Shit," Cole muttered.

"If he had followed Stark's orders, Alex would be alive and his fiancée would have a father for their child."

"What happened after that?" Martins asked.

"Sheppard was court-martialed and nobody saw him after that."

"And now he turns up with a promotion," Martins said with a nod of understanding.

"Yeah."

"You think it was his fathers influence?" Martins asked recalling Laraby's earlier mention of him when Sheppard was lying beaten in the shower stalls.

Laraby shrugged, "He was a cold war hero, big influence…I'm sure it played a part."

--------------------

With every step, Sheppard had noted the gradual change in their surroundings. The once rough passageway had begun to take on a new life. Tendrils of a familiar organic matter spread itself over the walls as if it were trying to consume it. The ground, which had been uneven, abruptly leveled out. The odd scattering of sand, gave way to a polished surface where the gravel crunched under foot.

They had entered the Hive ship.

Funny, when he was in the Pegasus galaxy in that type of environment, it rarely made a dent in his nerves. He felt them now.

Sheppard ran his hand over the walls and examined the sticky substance that came away on his fingers. He sighed and shone his light forwards.

"What is this shit?" Collins asked as he poked at the wall with a disgusted impression.

Laraby was quick to answer, giving the goo a prod with the end of his P90, "Looks like some kind of plant life."

"Well, whatever it is. It's gross and..it stinks," Collins said wrinkling his nose.

"Neh, that's not-" Laraby felt his insides clench.

That smell.

He recognized it.

Something had died.

Laraby turned and saw that his CO was standing deathly still. He was staring off ahead of them, his P90 light cutting through the darkness before him.

He was reluctant to join him but walked over anyway and saw what Sheppard was looking at.

Two solid forms lying on the ground.

Bodies.

That smell.

Sheppard walked off before he could say a word.

-------------------

The first day of training had gone well. Sheppard and Lorne between them had managed to assemble the ten men into two teams and had set them about doing exercises that would build teamwork and encourage bonding. Sheppard had taken five men and Lorne had taken the other men. Tomorrow they would split up and have some real fun.

The men were certainly on their way to watching each other's backs.

Sheppard slowly ate his MRE and chatted to Lorne as the sun began to set.

"Anyone on your team giving you trouble?" Sheppard asked as he chewed his meal slowly.

He was forcing his meal down. He had no appetite despite their busy day.

Lorne shrugged, "Seem okay."

Sheppard grinned and dropped his finished MRE onto the ground in front of him. He stretched slowly, arching his back in an attempt to release the building tension in his muscles.

"We'll split up tomorrow." Lorne nodded, "Have a bit of fun on the last day."

Lorne scanned Sheppard's face and slowly started to smile, "You bought the paint guns?"

Sheppard nodded.

"How the hell did you smuggle those through?"

"Last shipment. Hid them in a box marked plastic sporks."

"And nobody noticed?"

"I made sure I was the one to personally deliver them to the commissary and…….I may have taken a quick detour to the armory and removed the offending items."

"Sneaky."

"Not sneaky Major," Sheppard noted, "Ingenious."

"Well, I think Doctor Weir will suspect something when we bring multi-colored recruits back through the gate."

As the light dipped, the air began to take on a chill. Sheppard suppressed a yawn and stood, "I'll take first watch."

Lorne dropped his waste into a black bag and wiped his hands down onto his pants as he stood, "You sure?"

Sheppard avoided his glance and resisted the urge to rub his tired eyes, "I'm good," he said with a firm nod.

Lorne studied his face and frowned, "Sir, have you slept yet?"

"Yes," Sheppard remarked turning away from him.

"Because, I could take first watch."

"I'll take it. You can relieve me in a few hours."

"Okay," Lorne stated and he turned back to the camp.

As Lorne set off back to the camp, Sheppard grabbed his P90 and clipped it onto his tactical vest. He checked his 9mil to make sure that it was fully loaded and ready to go and then strolled out towards the line of trees to find a good position to watch the camp.

He found a shaded area and leant up against the coarse bark of a tree.

With no one around, he finally let out a big yawn and shoved his hands into his pockets to warm his hands.

His fingers brushed a piece of paper and he pulled it out of his pocket to examine it.

It was his three rules.

He focused on Rule 2: Know your enemy.

His mind reeled back to Afghanistan as he threw the wadded piece of paper to the mud.

---------------------------------

Sheppard approached the prone forms lying sprawled out on the floor and directed the beam of his flashlight onto the dried husks that were formerly living, breathing humans.

Laraby and Collins had shadowed him and were the first to see the desiccated corpses up close.

"What the hell?" Collins said in a low voice.

Sheppard knelt down and stared at the two bodies, stomach churning as the evidence piled up. And not in a good way.

Sheppard flicked his tongue out to lick his dry lips as he crouched.

"Sir?" Collins asked in a hesitant tone.

Sheppard threw him a look over his shoulder, "Keep your eyes open," he stated evenly.

Collins readjusted his grasp on his P90 and directed his flashlight further down the passage.

The rest of his men joined them, eyes downcast as they saw the bodies.

Andrews inexperience abruptly became apparent and he let out a garbled throaty sound as he saw the bodies and immediately turned away to vomit.

Sheppard could understand the reaction. The bodies had been sucked dry, their eyes bulging open, hair thin wisps spiking up from their scalps, their fingers were clawing out for purchase and there was a deep and bloody feeding mark on each of their chests. Sheppard swallowed as he pressed a finger onto one of the bodies exposed, dry skin. It looked as though it would tear like paper. He swallowed thickly when his mind registered that the body was still warm.

The attack had been recent.

Only the sounds of Andrews retching kept the silence company as his team watched with morbid fascination.

Sheppard reached for his LSD again and looked at the screen. Three blips now.

Could they be wraith? And if they weren't, then what? He drew in a sharp breath and recalled the incident with the wraith that had managed to survive on the downed wraith ship on the desert planet. The wraith didn't show up when they were hibernating, so it begged the question, were there hibernating wraith here, hibernating after their recent feed?

It was likely, if not definite.

He reached down to his belt, grabbed his canteen, and then held it out to Laraby and Collins, "Help Andrews," he instructed calmly.

Collins snatched the water out of Sheppard's hand and moved over to where Martins and Cole were already patting Andrew's on the back as he continued to dry heave.

Laraby was rooted to the spot much like the organic tendrils that were sprouting out of the walls. He had never seen anything like it before in his life. These bodies looked unnaturally old, their uniforms distinctly familiar.

They were uniforms of American soldiers.

Laraby watched in a strange detached state as Sheppard carefully began to pat over the bodies, gently lifting each of their heads to retrieve dog tags. Each time he recovered one; he wrapped it up and placed it in his pocket.

"Sir," Laraby began.

Sheppard held up a finger to silence him.

Laraby continued to watch.

Sheppard methodically checked the contents of each corpses pockets and Laraby was surprised when Sheppard pulled out a wallet and took out the photo that was inside.

Laraby didn't know what he was witnessing.

Sheppard continued his work, extricating photos and personal effects before finally straightening up.

"So we can tell their families," Sheppard explained in a low voice as he stared down at the men he suspected to be part of the special ops recon mission.

Laraby narrowed his eyes, "Why didn't the Afghans take their personal effects? They might have important Intel on-"

"Because they're not so bothered about the humans," Sheppard announced as he scanned their surroundings distractedly.

Humans? Laraby was confused. Sheppard knew something.

"How did those bodies-" Laraby started.

Sheppard turned back to him, "I don't think we're dealing with the Afghans."

The bodies drew his attention again. Definitely not the Afghans.

"What's going on?"

Andrews straightened up behind them and wiped his mouth, "Sorry sir," he said shakily as he turned to Sheppard.

"It's okay," Sheppard announced.

Laraby whipped his head around to Sheppard. It was okay? Andrews had shown immense weakness, he had thrown up in front of a superior and it was okay?

"Take a moment to-" Sheppard was interrupted by a horrendous sound that echoed down the vacuous corridors.

He turned quickly holding his gun up in a commonly executed move. His team followed in unison, the tension palpable.

-----------------------

Sheppard tossed and turned in the cramped confines of his tent. He was bone tired after his stint on watch but couldn't seem to rest. He twisted and turned and stretched and arched and heaved great heavy weight of the world sighs as he fought to get comfortable in his sleeping bag.

There was a chill in the air but he was insufferably hot. He was tired but teetering on the frightening edge of wakefulness. That imperceptible time when the body is over alert and subject to exaggerated jumpiness.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to switch off for one second. All he wanted was one god damned minute of blissful nothingness. He didn't want to think. He wanted to forget.

But he couldn't forget. The memory of those bodies was imprinted in his mind.

------------------------------

"What was that?" Cole asked in a shaky voice.

The scream was desperate, laced with a pain that was obviously excruciating. It faded out abruptly. Cut off.

-----------------------------

Sheppard shouted into his pillow. Low and throaty and filled with anguish.

Was this memory never ending? Would he ever be able to forget that mission and move on?

Mistake after mistake after mistake.

It hadn't been his fault, he told himself as he clawed at the edge of the sleeping bag and pulled it over his shoulders.

It was Starks.

Nevertheless, he'd played a part.

Sheppard removed his hand from the sleeping bag and slammed his fist down into the ground as hard as he could. He felt an initial burst of pain in his fingers and wrist and an ache that traveled up to his shoulder. It felt good. Meant he was alive.

Alive. Like they weren't.

He'd failed them.

Some Commanding Officer he was.

-----------------------------------------

"We need to help them," Laraby said quickly.

Sheppard was in agreement but he didn't know what they were going to come across, or more to the point, he knew and they didn't.

"Look," he began hurriedly, "You've been lied to, by me, by Colonel Stark and-"

Another howling scream forked through the air.

"We need to get in there," Collins said anxiously, "Whatever is happening up there sounds nasty."

"It could be the Afghans-" Cole suggested.

"Lookit!" Sheppard said sharply, "Listen to me, we-"

Laraby was the first to step forward, his gun aimed forward, his fingers tensing.

Sheppard slammed a palm into his chest and cringed, "Lt-"

"Colonel," Laraby enunciated slowly, "Sounds like something is going on up there and-"

Sheppard didn't have time to tell them about the wraith. Another sound rang out and despite nerves and fear his team were edging towards it. He checked his watch anxiously. Not enough time.

Sheppard turned to his men and instructed darkly, "Stay behind me. We find the source of the noise you do as I say. Understood?"

In turn, each man begrudgingly nodded, their dislike of their CO steadily being overridden by a deep seated need to follow his command.

Sheppard couldn't help but notice that Laraby was the only one not to nod.

"Understood?"

Laraby looked to Sheppard and then back down at the bodies. His mind was still reliving the way Sheppard had carefully taken the effects off each body. He felt a flourish of something. Respect? Surprise? Fear? What did he know?

Laraby felt his throat constrict as a soft wailing echoed towards them.

"Laraby?"

"Yes Sir," Laraby stated flatly.

Sheppard nodded and started towards the noise.

They navigated the passages swiftly; Sheppard leading as he mentally recalled how the Hive ship was laid out. He had been in them more times than he would like to count and knew how they were organised. Where they were heading right now was the central core, where he would be able to access the data if he had time.

Time. They had no time.

Self-destruct would take him a section lower and would be the best option to destroy the Hive ship.

They reached a narrow passageway and advanced slowly.

Shepard at point regulated his breathing so he could hear over the swell in his ears. He could feel his heart rate slowing as he switched off his flashlight. He didn't want to alert anyone or anything to his presence.

He also needed to keep his men behind him. He had to protect them.

He couldn't do it. He stopped, spun around and held his hands up to stall his men.

-----------------------

His heart was beating too fast. Du duh du duh du duh du in quick succession. Fluttering palpitations made his vision speckle with white dots.

He decided there and then as he lay staring up at the roof of his tent, that he was suffering from a nervous breakdown, either that or he had lost his mind and he was sitting in a padded white cell somewhere babbling like an idiot.

He'd let this mission get to him. Stress? Was it too much?

Well, it was certainly giving credence to his 'nervous breakdown' theory.

"I've gone insane," he said in a low voice.

He laughed and rubbed at his eyes, hysterical energy flooding his veins and bubbling under the surface.

He really needed to sleep.

----------------------------------------

"Sir?" Andrews whispered.

"I can't do this-" Sheppard declared.

Laraby didn't miss a beat, "I knew it!"

"I can't let you go in there unprepared despite what Colonel Stark believes is in your best interests," he sighed, "I have reason to believe that what we are up against are not Afghans-"

"Then wha-"

Sheppard cut Martins off., "Let me finish. I believe that they are wraith-"

"What?" Cole asked.

Sheppard looked back over his shoulder and checked that the coast was clear before continuing, "Wraith," he said firmly, "they're not…"

They wouldn't believe him, "They're…..different from us."

His men were looking at him blankly and Laraby was wearing an expression that conveyed confusion and amusement.

"They are formidable, strong and if I tell you to shoot the hell out of them, you do it. No questions, just do it."

They nodded but they looked skeptical.

"Stay behind me."

He advanced towards the core.

The room Sheppard entered was tall and circular with various bizarre consoles dotted around the room like some kind of rare disease.

Sheppard stopped in the doorway and saw three men in front of him.

Sheppard held his hand up to halt his team behind.

"Stay," he ordered as he took a few tentative steps.

He gave himself a minute to assess the situation. Three men tied up to a central column of wires and organic matter. In their hands were shiny spherical explosives, and their mouths were gagged. There was a horrible moment as one of the soldiers, presumably the other missing special ops, met his eyes and held the glare.

Sheppard could see that two of the men had been fed on, their heads sagging even as they tried to keep their focus up to the ceiling.

Sheppard glanced back at his team and then down to the three men, eventually stopping in front of the soldier not to have been fed on.

The one that had met his eyes.

Sheppard noticed that he was now looking up at the ceiling, sweat running into his eyes, and he was breathing heavily.

Looking up.

Flicking his eyes to Sheppard and then up again.

Sheppard frowned and a realization struck him so hard he felt mentally winded.

-----------------

In his tent, Sheppard snapped his eyes open, "I should have known."

--------------------

They were looking up.

Sheppard felt his heart seize.

They were looking up at the ceiling.

"What the hell are you doing?" Laraby said loudly.

Sheppard turned back to him, "Stay where you are," he whispered.

"They're tied up," Laraby reasoned in an elevated voice.

"Keep your damn voice down," Sheppard rasped.

Before he could stop him, Laraby rushed forward, the other men followed, and they started to try to untie the Soldiers.

"Don't!" Sheppard said as he slowly drew his eyes upward, "They're holding explosives."

The men were still trying to untie the soldiers as Laraby inspected the devices without touching them. He was top of his class, still was in many respects. He was reeducated periodically to ensure he knew of any recent new explosive devices. The device the soldier was holding was new to him. He had never seen anything like it before and in his book, that made it even more dangerous.

The soldier who was cupping the device fearfully looked up and tried to talk through the gag.

"What's he trying to say?" Collins asked as he tried to get to his soldiers bound hands without disturbing the device.

They're hands were bound in front of them and tethered to another rope that was pulled tightly around their waists. He couldn't see of a way to get them out of their current predicament without setting off a fatal explosion.

Laraby tugged down the soldiers gag, but he was too busy monitoring the ceiling above them, "Hey," he said, "You know what this is?"

The soldier was silent, lips moving soundlessly.

"Can you disarm it?" Cole asked as he nervously peered over Laraby's shoulder.

"I can't disarm something I've never seen before."

Laraby looked over to Sheppard and saw him standing still, his neck craned and his eyes unwavering from the ceiling.

"Sir?" Laraby conceded, "I can't disarm this, that is, if it's even active."

"Get out of here now," Sheppard ground out.

Sheppard could feel his heart rate beginning to struggle back up to an unnatural speed as he pointed his P90 upwards, his mouth had gone inexplicably dry and his throat had constricted.

"You want us to leave them here?" Cole asked in an uncertain voice.

Sheppard felt sick, he clenched his jaw, as he fought to focus on the darkness.

"Get. Out!" Sheppard shouted suddenly.

Time slowed and sped up all at once.

Sheppard watched as wraith descended from the ceiling and all hell broke loose.

TBC

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