CHAPTER 12: Underneath the Veil
"Bloody hell."
Entering through the atmosphere of the planet, the first thing that greeted them was a massive sea of blue. A single island dead center in the horizon before them became apparent by a frighteningly dark mushrooming cloud of smoke. The smoke trailed from the island into a line that trailed for miles upon miles across the ocean.
"Any bets on whom started that one?" Major Lorne tried to joke. No one laughed in the tense atmosphere of the Jumper. Two more Jumpers flanked theirs on either side. The ships immediately cloaked as they drew closer to the island.
"Let's hope we're not too late." Beckett murmured.
"Oh this can't be good." A Marine groaned from the copilot's seat. The others crowded around him in peaked interest to see what was displayed on the HUD before them.
"What is it?" Beckett asked, though knowing the answer wasn't one he wanted to hear.
"By current count there are…two hun…one hundred ninety…ninety-si…no five." The marine paused, then continued. "One hundred ninety five people left on this planet." The Marine looked over briefly from his intense study of the LSD then back to the display again. "And it's steadily dropping, sir. We have to do something."
"Bloody hell! There were one million recorded in the database. What the hell did Rodney do now?"
"Come now, Beckett. It could just as easily have been Sheppard. Or both." Major Lorne joked half-heartedly. Deep down they all feared their words rang true.
Beckett gave him a smile that did not reach his eyes. From the repeated hails there had been nothing but static. For all they knew, Sheppard and his team were dead. But knowing the colonel and his track record, Beckett wasn't about to give up. Atlantis had made them all resilient, positive to the end, and stubborn as mules. They had survived three years in the Pegasus Galaxy. That was in itself impressive.
As the Jumper dipped lower toward the ocean surface, they could view the outer edges of the island in the horizon. The singular contour of the land jutting out like a sore thumb captured their attention. A single spire of smoke drifted from one end of a tabletop mountain while at the other end, a shimmering beam of light pierced the sky from its hidden source.
The pilot flew them closer, lowering to circle around the mountain. They came suddenly upon the half dome. The beam dissipated and the dome clouded over in a dark haze. Puzzled, the team glanced at one another in wary anticipation. Smoke filled their view screen momentarily as they flew through layers floating upwards from the burning jungle below. They came to the other side of the mountain to view the source of the smaller fire there.
"Is that…?" Beckett trailed off, looking to Major Lorne for confirmation.
"Crap." Came the reply.
A mangled metal form was all they could see left of what was once a Puddle Jumper.
"Looks like a landing pad, sir." The pilot informed Lorne.
"Well, they didn't crash, then, sir." A marine surmised.
"Great." Major Lorne replied in full-blown sarcasm. With a grimace, he looked to Beckett. "Why do I get the feeling finding our guys will be a needle in the haystack, doc?"
"Aye."
"Positive note, sir, is that the jungle is probably too wet for the fires to last long…they'll burn out as soon as they run out of fuel. I suggest we set down near the landing pad and set up base there."
Major Lorne considered the suggestion before turning to the co pilot.
"What's the reading on the life signs, Lieutenant?" He asked.
"Holding steady at one hundred fifty."
Major Lorne glanced at the Lieutenant with raised eyebrows.
"What the hell is going on down there?" Beckett exasperated.
"We'll find out soon enough, doc." Lorne replied before turning back to the Lieutenant. "Give me exact locations on those life signs. See if we can hone in on our guys. With any luck, they won't be separated."
"Yes sir." The Lieutenant studied the LSD, punched a few controls on the console before him and studied the display before responding further and pointing at he spoke. "Looks like we got lucky, sir. A majority of the life signs are gathered along a stretch of forest here. A single life sign is traveling towards them from this area...and there is a small gathering of life signs just at the edge of the shoreline, about 3 kilometers from our position. Could be our guys. I suggest we take a Jumper and land here, save us some time."
"Good idea." Major Lorne tapped his radio so that the men in the other Jumpers could hear his command. "I want one Jumper here at the landing pad, another in the air monitoring our positions. We'll continue on and land at the shore opposite our current position, understood?"
A hail of "yes sirs" followed his command over the radio. Major Lorne checked his weapon, his action being mirrored by the rest of the marines in the back of the Jumper. He looked up, finding Beckett staring at him intently.
"What if it isn't Colonel Sheppard and his team?" Anxiety played across the doc's face, his fingers curled tightly upon his knees.
"We'll worry about that when we get there, doc." Major Lorne supplied and then smiled. "Though I'm sure they can take care of themselves. After all, this must be what, the fifth rescue mission we've been on to retrieve them in this past year alone?"
A wave of chuckles met them from the cabin in back. Beckett allowed a smile at that comment.
"Aye. They must be going for a record."
At this statement, Lorne smiled, a twinkle in his eyes.
"That would be just like them, wouldn't it?"
The Jumper broke away from the other two and eased over the charred remains of trees, through hazy lingering smoke, and on towards the opposite side of the continent. As they neared the shore, with the lazy waves lapping onto blazing white sand, they noted more life signs dropping from the HUD. Yet the small number near the shore remained thankfully steady. The pilot discovered that the nearest location to safely land was half a kilometer from the small group's position. The Jumper landed smoothly, and silently, upon the sand and the passengers quickly prepared to exit.
With hope, they wouldn't have to search too far. The only fear they held was whether Colonel Sheppard and his team were still alive.
-------o-------
Inch by inch he crawled. Dirt and blood intermixed underneath his fingernails. There was but one thing on his mind: find his team.
Amazing how the mind worked for he did not feel the agonizing pain that should be overwhelming his body. The pain that did exist was distant, as if like a fading song you couldn't quite grasp the words from. So inch by slow inch, Sheppard crawled forth.
-------o-------
Gray ash beneath their feet softened the sound of their advance through the outer trees of the jungle. Their progress was slow.
"Doc." Lorne's voice called from a distance. Something in the soldier's voice had Beckett rushing further into the trees, away from the beach. Scorched shrubbery scratched at his legs, some of the branches still hot to the touch. The search party surmised that the fire had passed through not too long ago and had most likely burned itself out.
"Oh god." Beckett gasped, stopping short before the kneeling soldier, staring down at a burned corpse. It had been a child.
Lorne nodded and glanced around them, his eyes haunted. Noting the look, Beckett slowly turned in a circle, observing his new surroundings for the first time. The scorched ground was littered with burned corpses. Some were smaller than others: most appeared to be adults.
"What happened here?" A marine asked from behind him, his voice soft. They had stumbled upon a gruesome find and each of them hoped Sheppard and his team had not succumbed to the same grisly fate.
"None of these are our guys." Another marine called off from a distance.
"How do you know that for sure?' Beckett asked, heading in his direction.
"Well, for one," The marine straightened from the body he had been observing to face Beckett. "No dog tags. Two, none of these people are over five feet tall. Teyla Emmagan stands at five foot four, if I'm not mistaken, doc."
Sweat dribbled down his forehead, stinging his eyes. It was a struggle to breathe in the mugginess of the jungle, and even more so now that a thick layer of haze hovered all around. It could have been a trick of the eyes, but Beckett swore he saw movement in the haze. Ghosts? He shook his head briefly: he knew better than to believe in such things.
"The LSD shows one hundred three and steady, sir." Another marine informed them as he studied the device. By now, it wasn't much of a surprise as the number dropped in sporadic amounts.
"And our guys?" Lorne asked, glancing at the man.
"They're on the move, sir. Heading towards us." The marine answered.
Beckett and Lorne exchanged hopeful glances.
"All right. Let's set up a perimeter and let them come to us, shall we? I don't like the looks of things here and the sooner we get off this planet the better." Lorne ordered.
"Sir!" A third marine emerged from a tangle of blackened tree trunks and spindly limbs. He held a blackened and dented canteen in his hand, reaching out to give it to Lorne as he stopped before him.
"Where'd you find this?"
"A dried stream bed about fifty yards back." The marine tipped his head back towards the way he had come.
"Perhaps they left in a hurry?" Beckett offered as an explanation.
"On a planet that's hotter than the Sahara desert? I don't think so, doc. Someone left that behind for a reason." Lorne surmised, moving forward to take the canteen from the marine and examine it up close.
Beckett glanced up at their surroundings, searching the trees with his eyes as if he'd be able to spot the team approaching.
"Aye then. We'd better find them."
-------o-------
He came upon babbling stream. Funny how the slow trickle of water could appear so innocent. It was murky, however, carrying traces of ash and debris from fires raging far from his position.
He licked his chapped, sore lips. He was tired. He was thirsty.
It couldn't hurt to take a sip, could it?
-------o-------
Like the sun unveiling after the menacing clouds of a thunderstorm, a familiar face emerged through the haze. And just as quickly, more faces, though strange and unfamiliar, came forth. The toll of the day rested heavily in those faces. It was a story that was better left untold.
Beckett rushed forth upon the sight of Teyla and Rodney supporting an injured and exhausted Ronon. Lorne and his men lowered their weapons, but remained in a tight perimeter around the newcomers. They were bedraggled, eyes widened in fear, hovering just beyond smoky rays that lit up the clearing of the forest.
Teyla approached Lorne to brief him on their situation while Rodney none too gently fell onto his butt beside Ronon. Neither noticed the blanket of ashes they rested upon. Their dazed expressions fell upon Beckett as he knelt beside them, medical kit in tow.
"My God, what happened?" Beckett asked, his hands running along Ronon's left leg, along a large gash. Dried blood intermixed with dirt but at least the wound was clotting. Beckett tsked as he found more and more evidence of abuse done to the warrior. Ronon hissed occasionally, but from the drowsy look to his eyes, there wasn't going to be much explanation coming from the man.
Beckett glanced at Rodney, his eyes scanning the man for obvious injury.
"Rodney, are you all right?" He asked as he applied gauze to a gash over Ronon's left eye.
Rodney blinked a few times, his eyes flashing in every which way before settling on the doctor's. He swallowed a few times, looking sickly pale.
"No, Carson, I'm not all right." His voice trembled as he spoke. His gaze fell upon a pale woman huddled amongst the group of strangers hovering nearby.
It was the first time Beckett took notice at the deformity this woman suffered, causing him to pause briefly before switching his gaze back upon Rodney. Rodney took a moment to gather his self before regaining eye contact.
"Rodney, where's Sheppard?" He was almost afraid to ask, for the team to be in this state was frightening enough. His stomach plummeted when Rodney stilled at his question.
"It's bad Beckett. We have to find him."
There was something in Rodney's eyes that made Beckett pause. Genuine fear but something else lay underneath the mask. It took him a moment to realize what it was.
Resignation. Rodney thought Sheppard was already dead. He turned to look into the faces of Teyla, as she spoke to Lorne, and Ronon, as he watched through heavy-lidded eyes. He couldn't deny it any longer: they all had resigned to the same conclusion.
He took a deep breath, swallowing hard.
"How do we find him?" He sighed. Rodney turned to the pale woman, as did the strangers surrounding her in silence.
In response, a manic smile spread across her pearlescent face. Mysterious eyes met Beckett's, sending a twinge of uncertainty and discomfort throughout his body: one green eye, one blue and just a touch of sanity.
-------o-------
He knew he shouldn't drink it. He couldn't really recall why. But he had no choice. Dehydration was taking its toll.
On the other hand, he'd gain enough energy to track down his team and hopefully get the hell off this planet. He could let Beckett worry about the consequences.
So he drank.
--o—
Tremors raced through every muscle, his heart drummed like it was on fire, and every intake of air felt like it was his last. But he was alive, more alive than he had ever felt in his entire life.
He was racing through twisted, gnarled black limbs. Ashes and bones hampered his hurried steps but nonetheless he remained afoot. There was a mass of bodies all around, but he didn't seem to notice.
He smelled fear. His target was near. There was one final task that demanded his attention. There were tracks, faint, but there. He snarled in anticipation.
A whisper of fabric, the turn of a head…he heard every detail. Not too far ahead now. He was closing in.
The adrenalin coursed through his veins. Breathing in hard, he screamed, charging through the veil of smoke before him.
There standing before him was his prey, eyes wide, fear evident.
-------tbc-------