John found walking on the walls--actually up them-- beat a trip in the transporter. He could still go to any level fast, and it was way cooler. He didn't need to cling to anything with his hands, already being one up on a certain web-slinger. Pacing upside down on the ceiling had its fun moments, but he decided to stop giving gravity the middle finger and act like a normal person. The irony being that he wasn't one anymore.
Thus the reason you're up at three in the morning instead of resting in your quarters, John thought.
If Elizabeth or Carson found out he wasn't sleeping they would have his head on a platter. The whole getting lost in Atlantis thing hadn't gone over well and telling them it had felt like an out-of- body experience only made matters worse.
Sleep. Sleep wasn't happening. Not if he didn't want to freak out about these expanding powers. Things like talking to a city could affect one's ability to lie down and turn 'off' for a while. His brain wasn't slowing down. It was hard enough to ignore the desire to stop what he was doing and write things on the floor that were circulating in his head. The gym was off-limits and going to the firing range would blow his cover. He flexed his sore arm; Carson had gone overboard with the blood donations.
"You gonna hang out in the shadows all day?" John asked Ronon.
The big guy didn't make a sound as he came out from where he'd been following. "Wasn't sure what you were up to."
The million dollar question. John pulled out the object that started his whole stroll through the city in the middle of the night. "You know how hard it is to find superglue in a lab where there isn't some night owl up working on something?"
"What'cha need glue for?"
"For this." John brought out one of the model planes that usually sat on his desk. "The wing broke off after it fell."
Ronon grabbed the intricate toy, turning it to study the repaired section. "And it just fell?"
He was so busted. "Actually, I flung a few things off my desk," John admitted. "It became a victim of friendly fire."
"Hitting things is easier." Ronon shrugged, handing it back.
"Yeah." John exhaled heavily. "Guess it was the closest thing."
"Any reason why you wanted to break your stuff?" Ronon asked as they kept walking down the halls.
"Got frustrated after Elizabeth confiscated my laptop and all my notebooks for a required period of sleep then left. She didn't want me to be distracted." He shook his head. "I've read all the latest mission reports the past couple of weeks and been noticing an increase in Wraith activity around a few specific solar systems. There have been more Hive ships and cullings on those planets. Almost double the amount."
"Do you have a theory?"
"No, not yet. I was trying to explain my case when I was reminded that I was supposed to behave like a good little boy and take my nap." He stopped once they got outside. They were near the western pier; maybe this is where he'd wanted to go all along. "I know I'm not the only one having a tough time dealing with the whole powers thing, and I know Elizabeth is just looking out for me after the Ghost in the Machine incident." John smiled at Ronon's look. "Really weird Japanese animation movie about computers and spirits."
"What was it like?"
"It felt... felt like I was one with a million voices." John felt a tingle go down his spine, a longing ghost over his skin. His eyes closed for a second, but he blinked furiously, resisting the whispers in his head.
Ronon rested his arms over the balcony railing. "You okay?"
"Fine. Not even hungry," John laughed. "I think I must have drunk a whole gallon of orange juice and ate a steak that the chefs have been hiding for a special occasion. Carson's worried I'm overdoing things."
He fiddled with his toy plane. "This is a replica of an F-15 I used to fly. It could climb ten-thousand feet in sixty seconds." He grinned at the memory. "I could make the craziest turns without losing air speed." John floated the model over the ocean, guiding it with the simplest of ease. "The beauty was what this bird could do."
Ronon watched the air show as John demonstrated maneuvers and aerial feats. "Used this to get past a couple Russian SU-fighters when I was jamming their ground radar. This would be easier if... here we go."
There were a few random golf balls around since this was the same pier he confiscated to drive them into the ocean. John used two of the balls as his 'bogies' and sent them after his model plane.
"Those are very menacing," Ronon chuckled.
"Hey, it's all I got," John laughed with him. He sent the golf balls after his plane, both of them gaining speed. "I slowed down just a bit." Both 'enemies' were nearly on top of him. "See, they can't use missiles, only guns. And when they targeted me, I simply shifted my plane sideways, slowed my thrust, and let them pass."
The model plane flipped ninety degrees, both balls flew by, and he rolled the F-15 away.
"You retreated."
"Didn't want to shoot them down. It would've doubled my paperwork."
The model F-15 made a large swooping arc upwards into a loop.
"What're you thinking about?" Ronon asked.
John shook his head. "I need to find another lab. Just had an idea about light speed travel. Instead of using wormholes to connect one end of space to another, why not surround a ship with a field that could just cut through?"
"Don't know about that stuff."
"Yeah, neither did I a few days ago. Doesn't mean I shouldn't work on it." John felt his fingers tighten around the railing. "The Wraith took out a whole town on PXM-262 yesterday according to the latest intelligence. We need an edge."
"And we'll find one."
"The Daedalus is only a few days away. I want to have something for Colonel Caldwell when he arrives."
He flew the tiny model plane overhead, landing it in his hand. John admired the simplicity of the craft, fond memories of being in the cockpit and flying by the seat of his pants still fresh. The superglue was holding, the fissure crack barely visible near the body of the plane. It belonged on a stand yet it represented something that should be free.
"If you're going to create battle plans, you need to sleep," Ronon said. He not-so-subtly guided John's elbow away from the sea. "Let's go."
Breakfast was early; John didn't want to take any chances of dealing with an overly crowded mess hall. He managed an hour nap after going over the schematics for every fixed-wing and helicopter design to keep his brain occupied before lying down became unbearable.
In order to stay focused on normal day-to-day activities John actually worked on the next Mersenne Prime number that he scoffed at McKay about the other day.
Calculating the next one would take the fastest computer weeks, and he hoped it would preoccupy his brain for a while.
Two minutes after getting in line for his special mile high plate of food, his teammates got in behind him, and they grabbed a table in the corner to sit down.
Rodney aimlessly buttered his toast; his eyes were red-rimmed, and he was quiet which was very unusual.
"You okay there, McKay?"
"If you call staring at readouts from that machine for ten hours straight an activity that a sane man should deal with—then yes," he sniped, overly grumpy even for him.
"Why not take a break from it?" John asked, pouring maple syrup over everything on his plate. "You can't think if you're exhausted."
"Pot!" Rodney stabbed a finger in his direction. "Don't talk to this kettle."
Teyla chewed on a muffin, sharing an oh children expression with Ronon. "John is right, even if he doesn't take his own advice." She raised an eyebrow. "Working nonstop will not be helpful if you are too tired and make a mistake."
"If the Colonel here would stop doing his Tron impression maybe I'd take my time," Rodney snarled, not looking up from his bacon.
"Hey! That was an accident," John defended.
"And there's no way to put children's safety devices all over the city for any more of your accidents." Rodney jabbed his fork at his eggs. "Doesn't matter until Elizabeth catches up on the translations, and before you say it… she can handle that just fine. Last thing we need is for you to download Ancient into that swelling brain of yours."
"Colonel Sheppard. Please report with your team to the control room," Chuck's voice squawked over the city-wide radio.
Ronon was on his feet, napkin thrown down, and Teyla rose with him. John swallowed the last of his omelet and grabbed two biscuits. Rodney was still seated, looking at the rest of them in annoyance. "This is the first time I've had a chance to eat."
Ronon began pulling the scientist's chair out from under him, McKay bitching the entire time. The four of them hurried to a transporter and arrived in the Gate Room, Elizabeth gesturing them to run up the stairs.
"We just got this message form Major Lorne's team." She gestured at Chuck to replay it.
"This is Lorne. There is a major culling...Wraith... heavy casualties... cut off from the gate... back up... detected..."
John's eyes grew large, and he tapped into the console. "That's PMX-642. We just helped out with a new irrigation system to drain their crop fields."
"The town has a population close to four hundred people," Elizabeth said softly.
"We'll gear up and go down there," John stated, turning to run back down the stairs.
"John, I'm not sure you should go. Get another team--"
"Dr. Weir, we're getting another staticy message," Chuck reported.
"...Lorne... Wraith Cruiser in orbit... launching..."
John had heard enough. "We're going. I'll grab Lt. Rodriguez's team for back up."
"We don't know about your powers. John, they could—"
"This is exactly what they're needed for. Don't you understand, Elizabeth? I might be able to do something." John felt the endorphins flood his system, his heart rate going from sixty to ninety beats per minute. He could smell the sweat of fear on people's skin, hear the rapid increases in breathing, and feel the collective anxiety of the entire Gate Room. "Let me do this," he implored.
"Okay. But take Dr. Beckett with you. I'll tell him to meet you guys in the jumper bay," Elizabeth ordered, tapping her comm to alert the physician.
John nodded, the rest of his team already rushing down the stairs, heading to the armory. Even Rodney's exhaustion was pushed back for later, taking two steps at a time with a renewed sense of energy.
They exited the wormhole and immediately had to scatter. Wraith drones were covering the gate, and both groups dove on their bellies to avoid stunner blasts.
"Rodriguez! Lay down fire!" John ordered from behind a moss-covered stone. "Sergeant Phelps! Target the group of drones about twenty meters out at your one-o'clock and hit 'em with stun grenades."
Rodriguez's team crawled toward any rock or stone structure around the gate for cover. Thirty seconds later all six of them showered the trees with suppression fire.
Phelps, a burly man, unloaded the sonic grenades from his pack and tossed them as instructed. Between the heavy stream of P-90 fire and the stun explosions, John's team could maneuver out of their pinned-down positions.
"Carson, stay behind us!" John ordered.
The physician kept with Rodney. Beretta out. "Bloody hell! Why did I come here?"
Ronon and Teyla took point, leading them down a path towards the town.
Rodriguez's team continued to rain down ammunition on the Wraith in the tree line, keeping their distance so the enemy didn't double back. About a klick away, the sky overhead was filled with darts, their culling rays crisscrossing the ground. There was a heavy cloud of smoke above the battle with several buildings on fire.
The few remaining Wraith that tried to block the area near the ring were taken care of by Ronon's blaster. Teyla caught a few who got back up after the first initial hits.
John listened for the Wraith's slower heartbeats, finding none near by. "I want two men to stay here. We need to keep an escape route clear," he ordered into his comm.
"I'll leave Hicks and Tenski behind with an M2 heavy gun to keep things open," Rodriguez radioed back.
"Lorne, this is Sheppard. Do you read?"
McKay gave him a nervous look and tried his radio to no avail.
"Let's double time it," John commanded.
"How are we going to avoid the darts, Colonel?" Carson asked, breathing heavily from carrying his kit.
John didn't reply, using his senses to pinpoint roaming ground forces and the patterns to the culling process. The closer they got the louder the screams of the townspeople pierced the air. Men and women ran, some of them ushering children towards shelters that led underground.
There must have been no warning if everyone was still caught out in the open.
The field of vision was clouded over by gray smoke, several homes were destroyed, and a large fire at the center of town spread the destruction to all the neighboring buildings. People cried out from inside the burning homes with no hope of rescue.
The chaos and panic made for easy pickings; the Wraith foot soldiers corralled terrorized people towards the darts' beams.
"This is mass hysteria!" Rodney gasped. "What the hell is the plan?"
John heard another wave of darts enter the atmosphere before they became visible.
"Get people to safety," John said, trying to sound in control. "We'll provide a way towards their shelters. The tunnels are on the east side of town. All the drones are blocking their escape, pushing people towards open ground to be picked up by the darts."
"How are we doing that?" Rodney yelled.
"You guys concentrate on the ground, keep the Wraith occupied. I'll take care of the air."
"And what do you think you're gonna do?" Carson accused.
"What I can, doc," John replied.
The next round of darts swooped in from the west, but he'd been waiting. John heard the high-pitched whine of their engines, focusing on the power used for propulsion. He could feel the low-powered fission reactor of each enemy ship.
He honed in on the small nuclear reactions, atoms splitting, waves of energy being released. Neutrons and protons. John seized on the reactions, upping an odd number of the nuclei, causing things to run too hot and too fast.
Things became unstable, and the first dart exploded. Then the second. Explosion after explosion filled the sky with balls of fire.
Ronon and Teyla coordinated with Rodriguez's team, battling the Wraith on the ground. The entire town was a war zone, blue bolts of stunner blasts zipping from one building to another. Streams of lead bullets cut the air, destroying and ripping apart what was left of the infrastructure of the town.
The stone building where John crouched in the entryway was one of the few places not being demolished by fire.
"The ground forces know we are here!" Teyla yelled.
"Can you hold them off?" John hollered over the volley of P-90 fire.
"We will!" Ronon bellowed, firing.
"There are casualties, Colonel," Carson shouted, spotting bodies on the ground.
"Wait 'til we're clear," John ordered. He glared at Rodney to make sure he kept the doc out of trouble.
Rodriguez and his men led groups of civilians towards their location, Teyla, Ronon, and Rodney providing cover fire.
John sought out more and more enemy ships, blowing up two and three at a time. His breaths were coming in rapid gasps, but he thought only of unstable chain reactions. About half the darts in the sky were eliminated, and some of them began retreating.
Carson stayed huddled nearby, firing at any Wraith that looked like it might take a shot at them. It was like a damn Steven Spielberg movie only without the dramatic music. John's ears managed to filter out most of the firefight, but he was sure some of the others might be temporarily deaf from the sheer amount of ordnance being used.
"There are too many, John!" Teyla called, trying to provide enough cover for the next wave of refugees that the Marines were running with.
"The fires are merging!" Rodney yelled. "If we don't get out of here, we'll be trapped. Most of the structures are made of wood!"
Phelps came careening around a corner. "Sir! The Wraith are converging near the escape tunnels, blocking them off! We got a lot of people there, but there are still tons of folks stranded in between buildings who are too afraid to come out while others are burning up in the fires."
"John! I see Lorne and his men!" Teyla shouted from her position a few meters away, using the side of a burning building for cover.
"The darts that retreated beamed down more Wraith!" Ronon yelled in between blaster shots.
Think, think, think!
John spotted Lorne and his team dragging each other over, the Marines showering bullets on the Wraith that began giving chase.
"Cover them! And Teyla, move away from that damn building!" John shouted, adding his P-90 to the fray.
The smoke and flames had created a screen, making it too difficult for his people to see where to aim. The air was becoming thick with fumes, and the heat of the all fires was beginning to affect them.
"We have to get out of here!" Rodney yelled, firing.
Ronon ran towards Lorne's team; John tried to keep him covered with his weapon. "When Lorne and his men get here, retreat to the gate!" he yelled.
"Carson, help them out!" John got up, ran over to shoulder a wounded man and bring the rest of his guys over.
"Thank… thanks, Sir," Lorne breathed, bearing the weight of an injured corporal.
"Let's get back to the gate! We'll bring all the civilians with us and take 'em to the Alpha site!" John took point, trying to clear the way.
He looked back, horrified at the number of townspeople they had to escort. Half his men would be preoccupied with helping the wounded move and unable to shoot.
"Sir, this is Tenski. We've got Wraith headed towards the gate. We're trying to hold them off, but we think they're trying to cut you off," the sergeant bellowed in his comm.
Think, John! Where are all those super powers?
Then it hit him, and John pumped his legs, getting ahead of the group.
"Sheppard! What are you doing!" Ronon yelled.
"Stay back! Help the others! That's an order!" John hollered over his shoulder.
He sought out the Wraith in front of him, focused on their brainwaves, their thoughts. The patterns were more simplistic. Hive minded. John connected to their minds, following the synaptic optical nerves.
Then he walked out in the open, honing in on each one and shooting them in the face. Every drone he encountered never lifted a stunner, never fired, and he simply put a bullet through them.
One by one he hunted them. Sought each soldier out and fired.
"What's going on, Sheppard? There's nothing but Wraith corpses everywhere," Rodney's frightened voice asked in his ear.
"Clearing the way," John radioed.
"Bloody hell, Colonel! How?" Carson asked, huffing.
"They don't know I'm here," he replied.
There was no need to answer the next barrage of questions. All he needed to do was take out the rest of the bad guys. He wiped himself off their radar. They didn't see him; they couldn't sense him. It was giving John one hell of a migraine, but he focused on mental blocking and firing.
Twenty minutes later, the ring was within sight. Hicks radioed to say they'd spotted him; the Marine's voice left little doubt that they had seen what he'd been doing.
"Sir! Someone's dialing the gate!" Hicks' voice screamed in his ear.
No, no, no!
"Nothing's coming out of it, sir!"
The damn Wraith cruiser was dialing in to keep them trapped.
"Probably pissed that all their buddies are dead", he mumbled. In fact, the cruiser took great offense to the screwed-up culling and entered the atmosphere.
Fuck.
The teams were catching up to him with all the wounded and civilians. John watched the large cruiser rip through the clouds and fly towards their escape.
He heard Ronon and Teyla run to meet up with him. "Colonel! What are we going to do?" Teyla asked, chest heaving.
There was no choice; the gigantic ship had to go before it opened fired or cleared the way for the Hive nearby to send more darts and troops after them.
The warship used hyper-drive engines, making jumps to protect the Hive. Locating the powerful generators was easy; it was like a lightning rod. The heavy mineral was a contained bomb, and he focused on the unstable properties.
In the background he heard the rest of the teams and townspeople catch up. The Marines held them back as Rodney ran over. "What the hell is going on!"
"Quiet; Sheppard's doing something," Ronon hushed.
"Colonel! Colonel, don't you dare! Are you freaking nuts! Carson!!"
All he had to do was stir things up, turn protons into neutrons, excite them into an overload on a grand scale. He could feel the vein at his temple pulsate under the skin and a band of tension tighten around his skull.
People began crying and yelling. "It's getting closer!"
The cruiser was well within firing rage, but it paused.
Probably experiencing technical difficulties, John thought. "Everyone get down!"
He swore there was a zap, followed by the most agonizing crackling sound, like aluminum foil inside a microwave.
The explosion rocked the ground, knocking people down, including John. Good thing distances were deceiving or the falling debris from the ship could have killed some people.
It felt wonderful to be on the cool grass; he didn't feel like standing up for a while.
"Colonel!"
"I'm alright, Carson. Just enjoying a little downtime."
"Like hell ye are!"
John felt fingers at his wrist, hands on his face, touching his head and slipping through his hair. "Said I was fine," he mumbled. "Just a slight headache."
The remains of the cruiser rained over the land, the burning parts like a meteor shower. They needed to get the townspeople to one of the Alpha sites, set up emergency shelters until what was left of their homes were cleared and secured.
"Carson! Carson! Get over here!"
"What is it, Rodney? I'm busy checking on Colonel--"
"Hurry!"
The frantic tone in McKay's voice was enough for John to roll over onto his side and watch the physician's retreating back. It was hard to tell what was going on; people crowded around, keeping him from seeing anything.
He didn't want to move, his head was spinning and his legs were pretty rubbery, but things died down to a tense hush. John forced himself up, wincing at the head rush, and made his way towards the growing cries of 'please do something'.
Carson was pumping a boy's chest, and Phelps was breathing into the child's mouth. A devastated mother was being held back by two men who could barely contain her.
"Come on, son. Come on!" Carson muttered.
Rodney looked on in horror. Teyla and Ronon stood back in eerie silence.
No one moved. The battle for this single life represented the last vestiges of a town in ruins. People kneeled in prayer while fresh smoke rose from their charred homes. They had left the dead and dying, but it didn't matter at this point.
Tears streamed down the grieving mother's face as she watched, helpless. Carson thrust on the poor kid's chest, the child's eyes still open and vacant.
"Damn it!" Carson cursed, hands pumping but his eyes reflecting the truth.
Something drew John over. He fumbled, losing his footing, but dropped to the ground next to the lifeless child.
"Don't," he whispered.
"I have to keep trying," the physician huffed.
"No. You don't," John told him.
He moved the Scot's hands away and placed his own on the still-warm body.
One life. It was always about saving one more.
He could feel a tingle beneath his fingertips. Energy transferred from one cell to another, synthesizing proteins and rebuilding RNA. Enzymes regenerated, sparking life. John marveled at all the biological catalysts and guided the processes, each using the tiniest bit of his own.
Billions upon billions of tiny factories were jumpstarted until the boy's body took over automatically. It was heat. Under his skin, pulses down his veins, and a light fuzzy feeling in his head.
Then movement. The boy's chest, rising and falling.
"Oh, my God!"
Rodney's voice.
"Dear Lord."
Carson's.
Then there was nothing. No energy; no desire. The world collapsed, and John got lost in the tailspin. He was hot and cold, shivering and motionless.
Voices shouted and screamed inside and outside of his head.
All he knew was falling.
Falling and floating in a sea of blackness, unaware of where he was. Neither asleep nor fully awake.
John felt himself being moved, lifted. Carried. There was a fast and steady heartbeat that wasn't his own. Concern, worry, determination wrapped around his body in physical arms.
Waves of panic crashed into him from one direction, and softer, calmer ones gently cushioned him from another. In between was the beating of confidence.
The ocean dipped, and he experienced the vacuum of pure energy before arriving into the familiar caress of Atlantis. She was softer than normal, sweet and soothing voices all singing quietly.
He must have dozed off at some point. The next thing he knew there were artificial chemicals flowing inside him.
"I think he's coming around."
"Easy does it. Make sure the area is clear; we don't know how sensitive he'll be upon wakin' up... Colonel? John? Can you hear me?"
John opened up his eyes, all the lights and sounds rushing in. "Hmmmmmm."
"Are you doing all right? Aside from feeling' like you've been chewed up and spat out?" Carson asked.
"Really tired," John breathed.
"I bet. Go to sleep. I've given you a little something to help with that. Just wanted to see you awake for a moment first. Rest. We'll talk later."
John wasn't sure if he could remember what real sleep felt like, but he drifted away, and his mind allowed him to go freely.
"That's very interesting, Dr. Orishio. But could you please sit still? It's hard to stitch when you're moving your arm so much."
"Sorry… I... I don't like needles."
"Don't worry. The lidocaine made things numb."
"But... it… I swear..."
"So, tell me more about these um… locusts."
"They are not locusts; those belong to the order Orthoptera. These are cicadas, and they are amazing."
"Fascinating."
"When they emerge it's on a massive scale. Up to 1.5 million per acre. Their survival mechanism is to overwhelm their predators by sheer numbers."
John awoke slowly to the prattling, the room spinning and the lights too bright for his eyes. He slammed down his lids, waiting for them to adjust from their sensitive levels.
"My aunt lived in New York; she hated the things. Scared the hell outa her kids. Glad they don't wreak havoc very often. Why do they only come out every seventeen years?"
"Some of us think it's an avoidance strategy to eliminate the possibility of potential predators receiving periodic population boosts by synchronizing their own generations to coincide with them. In fact, they even switch up the years based on prime numbers! Isn't that cool?"
"You're moving again. Just lie still, please."
God, he was stuck in bed while one of the bug guys went on about their creepy-crawly pals. That was just awesome. John turned his head, but there wasn't anyone nearby. The nurse and her annoying patient had to be elsewhere. He forced the voices away to clear his pounding head, noticing the scrubs and an IV. Again.
Waking up in a different place than his last memory was becoming an annoying habit until said memories came rushing back to him in every, loving detail.
John shoved away the sheets, fingers wrapped around the catheter in his vein, ready to tear it out when an angry voice made him freeze.
"Don't you dare remove that IV, Colonel! What do you think you're doing?" Carson was a thunderstorm over him, slapping his hand away. "You're not going anywhere."
Wraith and darts. Burning buildings and terrified people. John could smell the smoke and gun oil, feel the aftereffects of too much adrenaline. His fingers ached from squeezing the trigger too hard.
Carson hands were on his shoulders. "Easy, lad. Deep breaths."
"There was a Hive ship!"
"What? I dunno know about that. It could have been in orbit. But that doesn't matter because we're back on Atlantis."
There had been a Hive just out of reach. It took a moment to realize all the data left to be processed. "The kid?"
This time Beckett regarded him with that 'I'm really ticked off at you but don't want to yell' expression. "The boy's fine. Thanks to you. I- I don't know how you did it, Colonel."
"I... I had to."
"No. You didn't."
John looked over in shock. "What do you mean? He was dying. I was able to save him."
"He was dead. And you did save him. Brought him back from the brink. But when will it stop? I'm a bloody doctor! I live to save lives not choose between them!"
"I don't understand."
"You can't keep doing this to yourself!"
Carson took a long breath, bowing his head, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Colonel. I probably would've done the same thing. I can't imagine what it must be like to have these abilities, but this has to stop."
John knew deep inside that there was something wrong; something was worn out. "How serious are things?"
"You're using up energy you don't have," Carson sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Your body can't keep feeding your increased brain capacity."
"This is about me not eating enough?"
"It's more than that, Colonel. You have insufficient glucose levels to meet these increased metabolic demands. You know about the Krebs cycle?"
No, he didn't, but much like a computer searching for a file, he soon realized the answer. "The chemical process in which cells burn energy," John replied as if reading from a book.
"Exactly. Except your body doesn't have enough fuel. Anytime you use one of your powers excessively, you're zapping your body of energy it doesn't have."
"I take it a power bar won't help."
"This isn't funny! Your body is reacting as if it's starving whenever you do some bloody miracle. You've lost four pounds since your last examination."
John automatically squeezed his arms and patted his stomach. "Doesn't feel like it."
"Aye, you're not in danger of suddenly becoming the incredible shrinking man. You're doing things in leaps and bounds. You won't even lose weight like most people; you'll just react as if you're doing a fast. Your body will revert to crisis mode."
"That doesn't sound good."
"It's not, Colonel. I've got you on a glucose drip with your IV to try to restore things. Your physiology's a right mess. If you keep bringing down Wraith ships and healing people, you're gonna literally burn yourself out."
Carson gripped John's arm, his demeanor relaxing slightly. "We can manage this. The increased diet I have you on seemed to be doin' the trick even when you were killing Wraith like Robocop. It's all these bloody non-stop late night marathon sessions trying to solve the universe's problems or leaping buildings while arm-wrestling Godzilla."
He raised an eyebrow. "Godzilla?"
"You know what I mean."
"So, you're saying to take it easy?" John ballparked it.
"I'm saying don't be looking for a new uniform. No tights or leather pants." Carson smiled, the two of them sharing a laugh. Then the physician sobered. "Seriously, John. No matter how much you feel like you are... you're not Superman. The kryptonite isn't a green meteorite; it's inside your own body."
"This really sucks." John didn't know how else to respond. How could he? It wasn't like he could fight off his natural instincts to react to danger. He sure as hell couldn't turn off his mind. He'd been trying to do that since this whole thing happened.
Carson checked the computer at the side of his bed, writing into his PDA as both of them watched Elizabeth and Rodney approach forebodingly.
The fear and despondency filled his mouth with an overwhelming bitter flavor; it hit so fast that he grabbed the nearby cup and spat into it. His stomach attempted to revolt, and his gag reflex kicked in.
Carson was beside him. "What's wrong?"
John could feel his cheeks tinge green as the rest of his face paled. "What is it?" he demanded in a rough voice.
Elizabeth and Rodney couldn't meet his eyes, and it was nearly impossible to silence their inner voices. "I said I wouldn't read anyone's thoughts without permission, but you better spill it." He gulped for air to ease the nausea from such fiercely unpleasant emotions.
"I've made progress on my translations," Elizabeth spoke. She straightened to full height, bracing for her next sentence. "I was right about the machine. It was meant to help the Ancients ascend."
"Yeah?" But John didn't need to read her mind. "It's going to make me anyway."
Rodney was oddly silent, face drawn in defeat.
"The genetic mutations are not just evolving your mind to become super-human. They are preparing you for ascension." Elizabeth looked him right in the eye, her face composed but unable to keep away the hitch in her throat. "You... you have no choice but to ascend, or you'll die."
"Are you sure?" Carson asked, speaking before anyone else.
"Yes, I am. The process is irreversible. I... I've looked and--"
"Zelenka and I have tripled checked all the data... but... I mean..." Rodney couldn't say it. He looked away sharply, finding somewhere on the wall to stare.
John didn't know what to say either, just speaking what came to mind. "It's not every day you learn you're going to die with this kind of notice." He swallowed thickly.
"I'm not buying it!" Carson growled. "You read my report, right? If we get his metabolic rate under control maybe that'll--"
"Carson," Elizabeth touched his shoulder, "when we ascend we don't need our bodies. They just," she fought hard to keep her voice even, "they just die." Her hand fell. "From what I understand, this recent setback is due to John exceeding his limits in a relatively short amount of time." She looked pointedly at him. "But eventually the rest of his body will fail."
"I'll... I'll keep looking. See if there's an override," Rodney said in a very unnaturally soft voice.
The three of them talked about what-if scenarios, and for once it was easy to ignore everything around him. He was going to die. Soon, sooner than soon. In days.
"I need to go," John blurted. He pulled the IV line out with a startled curse. "I'm leaving now."
"What the blazes?"
"John?"
John shook his head, bare feet already on the floor. "I'll grab clothes from my quarters."
Rodney took a step to block his path and jumped to the side quickly at the glare he received. "Where... I mean... what do you think you're doing?"
"I need to be alone," John said in all honesty. He looked at them all. "Let me deal with this."
No one wanted him to go, but all three sets of eyes said they understood his need to bolt and hide for a little while.
"I'll send out a search team if you don't report back in two hours," Elizabeth said. He could tell she wanted to offer him something—anything – but knew platitudes wouldn't do any good right now.
Rodney fumbled for words and ended up saying what he needed to by leaving. Probably to go examine the machine again.
Carson fretted before grabbing a pair of slippers. John thanked him in silence, put them on, and then slipped away.
Facing the barrel of a gun, going out during a firefight, hell—flying a suicide mission down the throat of a Wraith ship. They were all spur of the moment, the heat of battle. No time to think or dwell—just act. Or react.
John stared at his hands; calluses marred the areas that gripped flight yolks and too many weapons. His skin had been stained blue and aged beyond his years. To know he was going to blink one second and not open his eyes the next scared him. Despite rumors, he did not have a death wish nor did he put himself in harm's way for the fun of it.
He wondered how his mother had handled her cancer diagnosis so stoically, knowing the death sentence it became.
Live fast; die young.
What a load of crap.
Sitting inside the jumper, surrounded by the very things he was brought to the expedition to activate, John contemplated things he tried very hard to avoid.
He balled up his fists, preferring a bullet to this.
The tiny craft hummed, speaking to him through the console, from inside the armrests. He listened to what it had to tell him, all the secrets and memories that it once carried. He caressed the flight controls, leaned back in the pilot's chair, and really understood.
John jumped out of his seat, opened the hatch, ran out of the jumper--and nearly collided with Ronon.
"Hey. Um... got to go," he stammered.
The big guy matched his step. "I heard what happened."
"Yeah."
Ronon grabbed his shoulder. "Where are you going?"
"I don't have a lot of time. I... I've got to do something," John said pulling away.
"Like what?"
Since Ronon wasn't going to allow him to get much done until he talked, John stopped his brisk walk and faced him. "I don't know about you. But I refuse to go down without a fight."
"Didn't think you would. You gonna go see Beckett?"
"Huh? Oh, no. I mean... maybe. I'm gonna track down someone."
Ronon furrowed his brow. "I thought Beckett was our best doctor?"
It took a moment to realize what his buddy was talking about. "He is... but that has nothing to do with it." John nearly bumped into the big guy again when Ronon blocked his path. "Look. I'm dying. There's nothing that can be done about that, but I do have these powers, and I might as well put them to use."
He could tell that wasn't exactly what Ronon expected to hear him say. "What are you going to do?"
John couldn't stop thinking about the complexity of what he had planned. It was so damn clear, so freaking ironic. Kind of a way to balance things out in one of those twisted karma things.
"I'm gonna talk to a guy about locusts. See about making all the Wraith go back to sleep. Since I'm the one who woke most of them up to begin with."
Atlantis spoke to John louder, clearer, the walls shimmering as he walked down corridors. She beamed brightly around him, her draw and connection ever stronger. Tiny halos of light that he had never seen before refracted around the city. He felt compelled to trace his fingers down the hall but knew better to avoid temptation.
Focus.
He knew his quarry was in the entomology lab, a place he'd made it a point to visit as little as possible. Dr. Orishio talked faster than Rodney which was an impressive feat in and of itself. John couldn't tell if the man was incredibly nervous or just ecstatic that the military commander of Atlantis had sought him out to discuss his fascination with the cicada.
The good doctor was shorter than Zelenka with even thicker glasses and less hair. He spoke with a slight Asian accent tamed by growing up in America. The scientist tapped away on his computer, displaying images of insects on the large LCD screen above.
"They are very harmless. They don't bite or sting. They're not even venomous nor do they damage crops," Dr. Orishio said excitedly.
"What do they do?" Ronon asked.
The tiny man floundered for words, obviously intimidated by the hulking man. "They... um… well... you see..."
"Tell me more about their life cycles, Doc," John asked, kneading the side of his temple.
"Yes, of course. They live for a very long time. Anywhere from thirteen to seventeen years."
"But they're not out buzzing around all that time, right?"
"No, Colonel. They hibernate underground. Though their adult life is very short. Living only a few weeks to reproduce. There are over three thousand types, and none of them emerge at the same time."
"In order to conserve the food supply," John said.
Ronon's face twitched, the only sign he knew what John was after.
"I want to know everything about them," John stated.
"Everything?"
"Yeah. I want data on life cycles. Biological, chemical, whatever."
"That could take days, even weeks to--" Dr. Orishio's eyes grew big behind his lenses. "Of course... I heard about... you know... um." The keyboard clicked and clattered. "Here is the entomological database on them. I'm not sure what you want with it. I mean, if I could be of some help I could--"
John grabbed a seat, practically shoving the entomologist out of the way. "Thanks, I think I got it."
He arrowed down, reading the report, but after a few minutes, the screen was flashing at lightening speed. To anyone else it was a blur, his fingers not even touching the keyboard.
"Sheppard."
Ronon crowded him, grabbing his shoulder. "You're not supposed to be doing this."
"Doing what?" John asked, not looking up. "Not researching a possible way to kill the Wraith?"
"You're not supposed to do your superpower thing."
"Why? It doesn't really matter now," John muttered, closing the door on the subject.
The big guy took a chair, resting his legs on another desk, eyes directly on him. John ignored his teammate just as he blocked out the rest of his surroundings in order to focus. Minute-by-minute his thoughts drifted away, distracted by the increasing need to keep his mind occupied.
It wanted more, a starving sponge seeking things to soak up. At this rate, he would have the next Mersenne Prime solved by the end of the day.
Bugs. Think about bugs.
He typed "Iratus" into the Ancient database, scrolling through all the notes about the evolutionary process connected to the Wraith themselves. Most of the written records and studies were focused on feeding methods and ways to change or alter them. He hacked Carson's notes next, but they were centered on the retrovirus research and his attempts to strip the insect DNA from the Wraith.
No, that wasn't the direction John wanted to go. He split the screen, going back and forth between the cicada and Wraith studies. He wanted similarities, and he narrowed things down to the waking-up periods of their life cycles.
"The cicadas emerge from their burrows based on soil temperature?"
"Um... yes."
"Is that why bears and other animals come out of hibernation?"
Orishio inched closer, rubbing at his bandaged arm anxiously. "That is still a matter of debate. And the technical term is torpor." At John's sour look, the doctor cleared his throat. "I thought since we were having a scientific discussion… I mean… that you'd want to keep to formal definitions of... Anyway, torpor is a metabolic change in animals like mice and arctic squirrels. Their body temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure drop significantly, allowing them to sleep for long periods of time. You can still wake up bears so they are not technically a true hibernator. "
"Yeah, I understand," John mumbled. It wasn't like he had a large untapped encyclopedic knowledge on everything in the universe. He wasn't a microbiologist, but the more raw facts he was told, the faster his brain processed things.
"Humans can't enter torpor because the lack of blood flow and oxygen would destroy organs and tissues," Orishio continued. "There have been medical studies to see if we could achieve it for the military in order to treat combat injuries or for long term space travel... but you can see why budgets have been cut."
John shook his head. "Yeah, but why? What causes them to enter this torpor thing?" he asked, looking up.
"I don't know. That's not my field of expertise."
Annoyed, John searched for the elusive answer, knowing it was the key. He needed to immerse himself in every study and experiment on all types of hibernators. He could repay his debt to this galaxy. If he didn't... no, he couldn't stop to think about that.
He was a walking battlefield casualty, which was fine; not every soldier had a chance to make an impact on the war he was fighting.
But could he do more than this?
What if he couldn't kill all the Wraith? What then? His concentration waned.
Defenses and offenses. Yeah, that would work, he thought. John brought another computer online from across the room; it wasn't like he needed to be physically in front of it.
He thought of the Aurora, about her mission and the secret that was lost with the ship. What Wraith weakness had they been working on? The Ancient warship's schematics raced through his head based on his memories. How could he merge that technology to that of the Daedalus?
"Sheppard."
Of course he still hadn't put all the pieces together on the city's energy problem, but he could improve things. Starting with the shields.
"Sheppard, you've got to stop this."
There was a small double redundancy in the breach containment system that maybe, if the power was shunted over elsewhere, could reduce drain on...
His computer went dead.
"What the hell?"
Dr. Orishio was at a console, the Satedan looming over him. "Sorry, Colonel. He made me."
"Ronon. I was in the middle of--"
"No, you're not. Let's go."
"You don't understand," John growled, returning power to the work station mentally.
A hand grabbed his arm, hauling him out of his seat. "You're going back to the infirmary."
It was reflex. John twisted Ronon's wrist clockwise. His teammate retaliated, reversing it. He ducked under their locked limbs, jerking Ronon's arm behind his back. But before John could pin it between his pal's shoulder blades, the bigger man hooked a leg behind John's ankle and tried knocking him off balance.
He matched Ronon's move, trying to trip back. Both spun out of each other's space at the same time, their defensive hand positions mirroring each other.
"That was impressive," Ronon grunted in admiration, dropping his arms.
John slowed his huffing for air, returning to a normal stance. "Sorry... I don't know why that happened," he said sincerely, weirded out by his reaction and how he managed to keep up.
"You've got a lot on your mind," Ronon said simply. "I startled you; you reacted. Still means we're going to the infirmary. Weir and Carson radioed. You told them you'd be back in a couple of hours."
Before John could protest being bullied away, Ronon was escorting him out.
"Fine, but I want McKay there."
John sucked on a peppermint candy he'd snagged from his quarters to combat the sour and bitter tastes in his mouth. He'd been prepared for the newest reaction to the physiological states of his friends.
Carson stood with his arms crossed. Elizabeth was perched against one of the examination beds, and Rodney hadn't stopped shaking his head.
"What are you going on about? Don't you know I have more important things to do, like tearing apart that machine?"
John looked to his left; both Ronon and Teyla seem perplexed by his argument, and it was frustrating. He didn't have enough-- there wasn't enough time to screw around.
"Look, I know you don't understand it all; just give me space to work."
"It's not that, John. Your theory sounds..."
"Insane?"
Elizabeth glared at McKay. "No, it's very interesting, but right now we should be focusing on your health and--"
"There are no ands, Elizabeth. You don't think I took time to try to come up with a solution about the whole ascension thing?"
"You were only gone for a few hours. That's not nearly enough time to even come to terms with what you're going through, let alone think of a cure."
He felt his jaw tighten. "I'm not here to discuss that. Don't you see what I'm proposing?"
"You want the Wraith to all go find some caves and sleep for the winter?" Rodney scoffed.
"We do not know what makes the Wraith go into hibernation," Teyla spoke up. "If John thinks he knows what causes them to, why not allow him to talk?"
Carson seemed ready to argue, but the scientist part, the researcher in his genes, gave him away.
John faced him when he spoke. "A Japanese study traced a hormonal change in Siberian chipmunks..."
Rodney burst out laughing, rolling his eyes but waved his hand to continue.
"As I was saying... They blocked this hormone from creating a specific set of proteins that kept the animals from going into hibernation."
"I read about that study. There was another one where mice subjected to total darkness had a large increase of a specific compound in their blood. Researchers synthesized the compound and injected it in other mice. Within an hour their body temperatures plunged, and they became inactive," Carson said thoughtfully.
"It was adenosine monophosphate," John supplied helpfully.
"We don't have time to study the method involved in sending animals into hibernation, let alone isolate it. If by some miracle we can re-create it, and only if, then what? Hope it works on the Wraith?" Rodney snapped.
McKay's anger and helplessness were making John feel edgy; the muscles in his neck spasmed in correlation to his sensitivity of his environment. It was difficult enough to keep his own emotions at bay and even harder with the walking radar tower of panic.
"Mice, bears, squirrels, even the cicada all have different forms of this torpor. Each species contains something that makes them to go to sleep in varying degrees. But they all have a process triggered by a gene or some chemically induced change."
"And you want to turn it on in the Wraith?" Elizabeth asked, voice unsure.
"Exactly."
"How?" Ronon asked.
"The Wraith are descended from the Iratus bugs and humans. Their behavior is still primal and insect-like. They have hives, cocoons, a hierarchy of males, but they all obey the Queen. They're like modern-day bees.
The keeper woke up the rest of the Wraith when I killed her. She died and her connection died with her," John explained. Then he turned to Teyla. "I think the Wraith Queens are the ones that wake up their hives and put them into hibernation. They control everything else."
"That's quite the leap, lad."
"But very possible," Teyla replied, her face reflective in thought.
Even Rodney was silent, forehead wrinkled, going over possible variables and outcomes.
"Where does that leave us though?" Elizabeth brought the group full circle. "If the Queen has that type of control and it's the type she can manipulate at will. That still begs the question of how we could use it to our advantage."
"Doesn't matter if it's something she does as part of some biologic clock or because she just feels like it. She has a mental link that turns on the mechanism of the Wraith under her command, forcing them to enter hibernation," John pressed his case.
His taste buds filled with the flavor of sweet tarts. He wanted to spit but resisted as his stomach stirred once again.
"I need to find out how she flips the switch and sends her hive to bed."
Teyla got an astonished expression, her eyebrows rising into sharp curves. "John, you're not thinking of..."
"I need a Wraith. I want to see if I can trigger that metabolic change."
"The machine has really fried your brain. Carson, get the restraints out," McKay ranted.
Beckett gaped at him in shock. "We're not going to let you try to connect to a bloody Wraith. Hell, we don't even know if you can... and... and if you could..." He shook his head. "We don't even know if the Wraith work like that. Not to mention, you're not going to do anything but rest and relax."
Elizabeth was having none of it; John couldn't keep her arguments from penetrating his mental wall. "I want to test out my theory. I need to figure out if changing something on a genetic level is even possible."
"No," she said. "First off, I'm not allowing such an experiment to take place. Secondly..."
"I'm dying already, Elizabeth. It can't kill me, and if it does cause me harm…." He swallowed. "Still isn't going to change the outcome."
McKay looked like he was going to lose his dinner. Teyla hid her pain just a little better than Ronon. Their emotions were daggers.
"We haven't talked about ascension, John. There are still options to discuss," Elizabeth said, mustering her command voice.
"I'm not ascending. There's no point in talking about it," he said, cutting off any more attempts about the subject.
"Well, you're not goin' on any foolish missions. You're staying here so I can--"
"What?" he shouted at Beckett. "So I can die surrounded by machines? While you conduct more tests to watch my brain patterns?"
Carson's eyes went from round to fiery to flat. "That's... not what I want." His accent thickened. "I want to help you... I…." He faced McKay. "Isn't there anything you've got from that blasted machine?"
"I can't pull miracles out of thin air. And I can't study something when I'm goose-stepped away from my analysis by Conan so I can stand around listening to the ranting of a mad man!"
The two brains argued. Ronon stared. Teyla and Elizabeth did their impersonations of diplomats, concealing what was brimming over on the surface.
John did his best at imagining a barrier to prevent all the jabs and blows from the collective outpouring of negative energy.
He wondered if there would be time to take a jumper out again. Or if he'd be able to sit down for a meal with everyone one last time. His chest tightened, wondering who would look after these people after he was gone.
He saw a vision of his mother, attacking the weeds in her garden the morning after a treatment or badgering his father and brother to the dinner table to eat together. It made his gut clench. She hadn't allowed herself to be ruled by her illness and neither would he.
Focus.
"I've been going over the patterns of the most recent Wraith attacks. I think I can predict with eighty percent accuracy where we might find them and capture a drone." John said, steering the conversation back to things he could control.
He almost let out a sob of relief when his voice broke up the growing ball of volatile emotions in the room. His head was killing him, and his body's fatigue was letting itself be known.
"I'm not sure I can allow this course of action to proceed," Elizabeth said. It was taking great strength to circumvent his desires.
"I'll write you a risk analysis." It wasn't mean to be cocky, but he needed her to review this with an impartial eye like any other proposal. "Think of the benefits."
"Look how many times we've rushed on things because of the desired end result. I can't do that again, John. I can't take a chance with your health or the safety to the expedition to authorize risky operations."
"I'm talking about grabbing one Wraith. Off-world. If it works then we'll go to the next step. If it doesn't then I'll drop it." It wasn't fair. John felt her falter, knew she needed a logical reason to say yes. He felt dirty, sensing this and using it to his advantage. "If it does work... I won't have a lot of time to get the rest done."
There, he felt a crack.
"My body is going to fail me. Let me do something with this big brain of mine. Let me make a difference."
"You haven't even looked into ascension, John."
He stepped closer to her. "I don't need to. I had a chance once before and turned it down. I wasn't ready then. I'm not now."
"Don't take this away from me... Please."
The silence was deafening.
The dam burst. Elizabeth bowed her head, probably regretting her next words.
"It's a one time deal. You can try your experiment on one Wraith. That's it. If you can't turn on this gene or whatever, you're coming right back here to the infirmary, and you're going to consider all the options," Elizabeth relented, pinning him with a stare.
John didn't trust his voice. He settled for a soft 'thank you.' His shoulders slumped downward, and his knees felt weak, but the strain was gone.
"I'll expect that risk analysis in a few hours and a thorough outline of the rest of your plan," Elizabeth said in a tightly controlled voice.
John nodded, turning to Teyla. "I'll need your help."
She hesitated. "Of course. We'll go out on the West pier where it's quieter."
Rodney was already halfway out of ear shot, grumbling about taking another look at the device before wasting his time on a fool's errand.
Ronon… was hard to read at the moment. He simply left.
"You and I are going to set some ground rules, Colonel, before this mission," Carson said, hell-bent on not taking 'no' for an answer. "And I'm coming with you. Again."
John didn't know what to say, but he followed Teyla out the door.
"Be sure to stop by the mess hall and make your meeting a picnic," Carson yelled.
Now that sounded nice. Too bad the topic of conversation wasn't going to make for a leisurely meal.
"Why are you doing this?...John?"
"What? I mean..." John had drifted off again. The allure of the ocean, the inviting sky, the beckoning spires. They all had translucent glows about them.
Teyla touched his forearm. "Are you with me?"
At any other time that would be the dumbest question, but it was an appropriate one now. He'd been half a world away; that was impossible to explain. The auras glimmered, and if he listened closely they sung.
"I'm doing it for all of this," he said, waving his hand all around. "And for you. And Elizabeth. Ronon. McKay. Everyone."
"How many times have we come against impossible odds only to win? You could fight this," Teyla pleaded.
Her golden hair radiated out here, strands glistening in the sunlight. He shook his head; it was amazing how much beauty he'd been blind to, only to see things in other ways. "I am fighting. I know you'd do the same if you were in my shoes."
"John..."
"I'm going to try to get inside the mind of a Wraith. I did it before. Kind of. Saw through their eyes, blocked their sense of me. This time I have to dig around into parts that they are not even aware of. Find deeply rooted commands on a genetic level."
It was a scary thing. He knew it; so did she.
"I think you will be able to manipulate them. I doubt any drone will have an influence on you. But, I'm not sure how such a connection will give you the answer that you seek. I've only felt or manipulated thoughts. What you want to do…." Teyla trailed off, looking out over the pier. "It's unheard of."
John grinned. "Yeah, well, I've had flight instructors say the same thing before. I like proving people wrong."
He stuffed more pasta in his mouth from their 'picnic' to keep from having to go on. The spaghetti was hearty, filled with sausage and meatballs. He chomped down on the sweet breads with gusto despite the fact his stomach had felt off the last hour.
Teyla wanted to say more but didn't. He wished for the clumsiness of verbal communication; reading people, seeing their naked vulnerabilities, was unsettling.
"We should get going," he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"Don't you have to send Dr. Weir some type of report?" Teyla rose, gathering the disregarded plates.
"I already did." John grabbed a plastic bag to stuff the garbage in. Teyla raised an eyebrow. They had been together since leaving the infirmary. "I sent an email a few minutes ago."
Teyla chuckled, shaking her head. When she wasn't looking he grimaced as pain shot through his skull and down his spine. After a moment he was fine and escorted her back without a word.
They couldn't prevent cullings; it was a fact of life in this galaxy. A hive orbited outside MPX-262, but it hadn't launched an attack; it just hung out. Waiting.
"I wonder why there has been such a focus in this solar system." Rodney pondered, observing the HUD. "It's not like any of the planets here are very interesting or the societies advanced."
"Could be impulse or past history," Carson suggested.
John's team looked to him, and he did a double take. "What? I don't have a clue."
"Oh, well, since you're all-knowing now, we thought maybe you had an answer," Rodney said, shrugging his shoulders. "Does your magic eight ball say when anything is going to happen? We've been waiting over an hour."
"I can't predict the future, McKay." John guided the cloaked jumper near the outer atmosphere. The jumper was reaching out to him again, and it took willpower not to lose himself in the pilot's seat.
The magical allure of Ancient tech was transcending mere physical contact. Deep breathing alleviated things; so did counting perfect squares.
970940900
971942841
972944784
"There!" Ronon pointed.
John jerked his head, noting the dart skimming the planet. "Scout," he said, chasing after it.
"Should I remind anyone that this is a really bad idea?" Rodney clutched the console. "I mean, hello. Wraith Hive ship. Just over there." He pointed at the screen. "How long before more come after this dart when we... what are we doing?"
"Acting as bait."
"What!"
John grinned when he flew along side the dart, matching its pace and hitting the thrusters.
"Disengaging the cloak," he reported.
"Colonel?" Carson squawked.
"Hold on. It's gonna get bumpy," John announced.
The dart fired, and he easily outmaneuvered each blue streak, knowing where the shots were going. He dodged and danced for appearance sake then waited, timing things perfectly.
He anticipated the next shot and adjusted the jumper by a degree. "We're going down rough!"
John let the tiny craft drop as if hit and lowered the jumper into a controlled skid that looked like a bad landing from above. Things came to a stop, and he hopped out of the seat.
"Everyone stay put," he ordered.
"You are insane!" Rodney hollered, chasing after him, the rest of the team following.
There was little time before more darts would join the scout, and John ran down the open hatch. "I told you guys to stay back," he hissed at the footsteps behind him.
Ronon answered by pulling his blaster out, eying the terrain. John honed in on the drone's heartbeat, locating him twenty yards away and closing. He held out his hand, signaling the proximity of the Wraith.
They couldn't shoot the drone, but the Wraith marched out of the woods without fear. It raised its stunner, firing several times. John had his target in his sights and mentally jerked the weapon out of the Wraith's hands where it landed meters away.
"Good Lord," Carson whispered from behind.
The Wraith froze, studying its empty hands. It cocked its head and peered at John. Its mind was open and unlike the other day when he simply blocked his presence, John had to dissect this time.
He felt ravenous hunger; the sensation of fire ripped through him. He was burning alive with need and want. It took a minute to work through all the desire and demand for food. He held onto those primal instincts, following the trail of impulses to what commanded them.
Food. Water. Life. Obedience.
Food. Water. Life. Obedience.
Synapses. Nerve functions. He followed billions of them. Firing, colliding. There in the frontal lobe, waves and waves of thoughts and behaviors. He entered inside.
There was self-awareness regulating in feedback loops. Everything was on the molecular level. Enzymes and hormones.
"Colonel?"
He didn't know what to do. How do you find a single trigger in a haystack of billions of biochemicals?
John's lips moved. "Sleep. Go to sleep."
Sleep. Conserve. Store.
Sleep. Conserve. Store.
There it was. The 'off' switch.
Slowly the world became fuzzy. Cold chills wracked his body which had become suddenly very lethargic.
"What's the Wraith doing?"
"John, are you okay?"
"Sheppard, snap out of it!"
Rodney's sharp command jerked him aware. John blinked, watching the Wraith sway.
"How long is it supposed to take?" Ronon asked, weapon leveled on the drone.
"Don't know," John said woozily, watching in fascination.
"Yeah, lowering the metabolic rate takes time." Rodney inched closer.
The Wraith seemed dazed, wavering on its feet, and soon it slumped down.
Carson approached the drone. Teyla gripped the physician's shoulder, obviously unsure about letting him too close. John followed closely, reworking his muscles and feeling out the Wraith's thoughts.
The drone's mind was slow and muddled.
"Careful, Doc," John said, still not trusting things. He covered the Wraith with his P-90, sensing brain waves and thought processes slowing down.
"I'm picking up readings," Rodney alerted them. "I think the Hive launched more darts."
Beckett leaned over the sprawled form of their enemy, Ronon and John aiming guns at the Wraith. The physician took a syringe and carefully drew up a large blood sample.
It worked. He knew on every level.
The Wraith lay there unresponsive, its awareness fading.
"We need to go," Ronon urged him, listening to the darts overhead.
John nudged the Wraith with his boot. "Okay. Let's go home."
It was going to work. It had to.