Stargate Atlantis -:- Endgame

Author's Note(s):

Thanks as always go to my wonderful reviewers – you are awesome just for taking the time to leave a comment and you make writing a real joy! :D

My schedule dictates that weekly updates are probably most likely from now on; I will try to update more often than that but I make no promises – please bare with me!

Enjoy!

Chapter Five -:- Hellfire

SOUTH SOLARIS: DOMILITIS CITY: FOOTHILLS OF Mt. OPTURA
36 Hours 35 Minutes and counting
[0005hours ALT]

Mt. Optura has stood proud in the south of Solaris since a long time before the Domilitis colony claimed the land for themselves and built the grand city on its hills. The colony won the land after a campaign of nearly nine years – both sides stubbornly claiming the fertile volcanic land, one of the very few places on the continent where crops would actually grow. Things have changed a lot since that war nearly two hundred years prior, a great city surrounds the mountain base with smaller encampments encroaching up the hillside to take advantage of the soil.

Allyana was a resident of one of these camps. She was barely more than a girl, dressed in the threadbare rags the masters had so generously provided. She was a slave, working the fields until she lacked the strength to even stand.

Working on a volcano led to Allyana learning Optura's moods and behaviour; though she was less educated than the herds she knew more about Optura than the city's Sanas ever would. When she had awoken that morning to begin her day, she had already sensed Optura's anger that raged beneath the surface. The powerful mountain had already shaken the ground in a tantrum several times, as if warning Allyana and the others that their time was near. Not that they were able to heed such a warning, but Allyana appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

When Optura shook the ground violently enough to send everyone toppling, Allyana had looked up at the mountain's peak with resignation and the slightest hint of relief. As far as she was concerned, this was a mercy. Simply an end to a pointless and painful existence. Optura responded with a deafening boom that would be heard for miles, and spewed dark clouds of dust into the air.

The darkness was absolute in minutes. Though Allyana was sure that the sun still shone above them it could no longer be seen through the smog of blackness. The ground continued to shake constantly as Optura kept churning out the darkness. An orange glow fountained vaguely from the peak, and Allyana stared at it in wonder as she carefully climbed back to her feet.

She was oblivious to the chaos around her as the masters and the slaves battled for escape, running desperately down the mountain towards the faux safety of the city's walls. Allyana stayed however, burying her hoe into the ground to keep her standing as she waited for the blissful end.

Grey flakes began to fall from the dark clouds and Allyana held out a hand to catch them. Comparing her to a child seeing snow for the first time would have been an apt description; her eyes widening in wonder as the flakes settled around her. The flakes kept falling, heavier and heavier, coating everything in grey powder. Soon it became too dark and too thick to see, and finally Allyana felt the panic as well.

She had breathed in some of the flakes and now her throat felt thick and sludgy, every breath becoming harder and harder. Grey that had nothing to do with the flakes encroached the edges of her vision and she sagged against her supporting hoe. She tried to suck in more air as her body lost its meagre strength, but there was nothing but the flakes. Eventually she could simply breathe no more.

And that was the end of Allyana; a slave with no meaning nor purpose.

DOLMILITIS CITY: SOUTHERN MILITARY HQ

The building was surviving the groundquake very well considering the constant shuddering of its supports. Only a quarter of it had collapsed completely, the rest still standing, although it no longer resembled the grand architecture it had once been. Dawn stared up at the dark cloud through the hole in the roof, recognising the fallout of the volcanic eruption. She must have been in shock, or some sort of daze, because suddenly she was being shaken, her gaze dragged away from the black and back to the female foreign human.

"…are they? Where are the others! Tell me!" There was more than just a hint of panic in her voice.

The others? Dawn snapped back, realising that this was her chance to help. The foreign humans had no reason to die on this planet; they were not to be punished when they had done nothing but offered to help and had done no wrong. Maybe they could get free during the chaos and find a way to save them. But first they would have to find them. She glanced around them, trying to gain her bearings in a building she hardly recognised, and then climbed unsteadily to her feet. "This way!"

Teyla followed, both of them having to use their hands as well as their feet to navigate over the rubble as the ground continued to rumble beneath them. They had to take cover more than once when what was left of the first and second storeys rained down on them, making their progress slow. Eventually they came to what would once have passed for a staircase, and Dawn led them up, clinging to the handrail like a lifeline.

When they stepped out onto the first floor corridor they found that the entire left side was missing. Teyla and Dawn had been on that side when it had collapsed. Thankfully the floor above still at least partially existed, saving them from being crushed once they had survived the fall. The right hand side of the corridor was a series of doors, all identical to the cell door Teyla had been staring at not ten minutes earlier. Dawn led them down, counting the doors before she came to the one she wanted. Between the two of them, they managed to get it open. "Ronon!"

Teyla ran in, heedless of the ominous creaking of the ceiling and its promise of imminent collapse. Dawn eyed it warily, not daring to enter the small cell. Ronon was on the floor, still chained to the chair, his left hand trapped under the side and pain lining his face. Teyla unlocked the cuffs as she crouched beside him, leaning forward to place a hand on his shoulder. "Ronon? It is Teyla. Are you alright? Can you move?"

The large man nodded, though judging by his expression he was nowhere near alright. He gratefully accepted Teyla's hand up, clutching his own broken one to his chest. The ceiling gave another warning growl. "Quick! You need to move now!"

Teyla did as she was told and hurried Ronon out of the room and back out into the open corridor. The ceiling chose that time to give out, its collapse adding to the shaking of the ground, threatening to send them all toppling over the edge. Ronon was pale, perspiration dotting his forehead, so Teyla allowed him a moment, leaning him against the wall. She realised that the Satedan was in pain, but she thought it unusual for him to have reacted so strongly (for him) to it. She briefly wondered what the Solarians had done to him, before a particularly violent quake reminded her of their current situation. She turned on Dawn "Where are the others?"

Dawn looked around helplessly, trying to match the current geography with the layout she remembered and failing. More of the building had given in to gravity now, leaving a barely recognisable shell. "I…I am not sure…" she stammered out, and Teyla fixed her with a hard glare. "Maybe…this way?"

Logic dictated that they couldn't have been that far apart. Teyla had been able to hear them where she was being held, and Ronon had only been in the cell opposite; but the building had taken on a life of its own. It had twisted unnaturally leaving just a confusing maze behind. Dawn moved off again, very aware of the unstableness of the floor beneath their feet, Teyla and Ronon following behind. The corridor abruptly ended with a sudden drop-off, and Dawn had lost count of the doors. She had the horrible suspicion that the other half of the foreigners party had been in the cells a few more doors down, but she kept it to herself, instead shouldering open the last door with Teyla's help.

Dawn cursed once she saw that room she had found was not even a cell. It was an evidence locker, years' worth of confiscated goods strewn across the floor; thrown loose from their shelves. She could feel the frustration from her two companions radiating from them in waves. The building wouldn't last much longer, and soon Mt. Optura would get to the crescendo of her eruption. Already grey flakes were falling through the holes in the roof, dusting everything in the thick powder. They were running out of time, and Dawn highly doubted that these two would leave without the others.

But then Teyla stepped forward and crouched down, lifting a fallen shelf. Dawn came forward to help; Ronon not able to fit in the small space. Between them they managed to wrangle free some the equipment that had been taken from them during their capture. Teyla took two of the black vests; one of them with a large rectangular pack on the back, the belts and holsters still attached. She also grabbed Ronon's gun belt, the Satedan taking it from her gratefully; his expression telling them that there was some sentimental value to the weapon. Dawn was given one of the vests to wear so that they could keep their hands free and then they backed out into the ruined corridor.

The flakes had already coated the exposed corridor, making it even more dangerous to navigate. The air was thick with them, reducing visibility down to almost nil. Dawn pulled up the neck scarf of her uniform to make a filter, Teyla and Ronon following suit. Through the fabric the Satedan demanded "Where are they?"

Dawn took a step away, and gestured at the drop-off at the end of the corridor.

"Down there."

DOMILITIS CITY: THE MASTER CHIEF'S RESIDENCE

The Master Chief, Xarlon Dean, stared out of his window at the falling grey flakes. His home had withstood the groundquakes as he had recently renovated with the knowledge that the end was coming – this building would be the last to fall – befitting the title of the Master Chief's residence. He stilled himself against the panicked cries and screams of his people, instead looking over that chaos and up at the horrific beauty of Mt. Optura as she erupted.

A knock sounded from his office door, pulling him from his reverie. He turned to see his faithful assistant and occasional mistress standing nervously by the frame. Molina hesitated, looking past him and at the destruction outside, before snapping back to the reason she was there. "Your gyrocraft is ready for take-off now, Master."

"Excellent," Xarlon clapped his hands together happily, and Molina winced. "Any word from the General about our guests?"

Molina shook her head. "We have received no communication from the headquarters since the beginning of the groundquakes. All troops have been dispatched into the city to keep the peace, as you ordered, Master."

Xarlon was not greatly concerned. Ever since he had received the news that the ring the aliens had stepped through had been destroyed he had been quite certain that they would be of no use. There was only one escape left on this planet, and he was the only one who knew it – well, the only one that would still be alive when it came down to it. He gestured at a packed case by his desk. "Carry this, and follow."

"Yes, Master," Molina nodded and darted forward to do as she was told. She followed him out of the office and through the building until they reached the landing pad. They stepped out onto the balcony area that was shrouded in darkness and covered in the grey powder that crunched beneath their boots. The gyrocraft was already whirring to life, although the sound of its engines was stolen by the constant rumble of the ground and the screams of the people below. The spinning rotors kicked up the dust, making Molina cough behind the neck scarf she had pulled up. It stung her eyes and tasted foul even through the fabric.

She waited to one side as Xarlon stepped into the craft, one of his already evacuated advisors taking the heavy case from her and dragging it inside. Molina then made to step in herself, but the advisor kicked a booted foot against her shoulder, sending her spiralling to the ground and face-first into the thick dust. She heard the door slam closed behind her, and she scrabbled to her feet. She hammered a fist against the closed door "No! Wait! Take me with you!"

She was answered with a blast of air from the craft's engines that sent her flying again. As the pilot navigated the craft from the ground it whipped the flakes into a frenzy around it, forcing Molina to stay down as her one and only chance of escape took off.

After a minute or so of lying in the grey snow, she pushed herself up and onto her hands and knees choking through her scarf on the heavy air. She looked up at where the craft would have gone, but could see nothing more than a few inches before her face. She could not even see her hand when she held it up. The ground continued to shake; the people continued to scream; the world continued to end.

Molina rocked back onto her knees and let the tears of despair run down her cheeks, the moisture making rivers through the grey powder that covered her face. She should have known that she would be left behind, but she had allowed herself to hope; a cruel mistake that made her heart wrench in betrayal. The flakes were falling hard enough and thick enough to have half-buried her where she sat within seconds, but she made no attempt to move – there was just simply no point.

And then there came a loud crash and a bang; a bright light breaking through the palpable darkness. Even over the racket around her, Molina could make out the sounds of a gyrocraft's engines whining; its rotors chugging to stop – the whistle of a craft falling to the depths. A second explosion sounded, its rumble joining the ground's as the two collided in a satisfying twist of fate.

Molina looked up at the sky again, and smiled.

DOMILTIS CITY: SOUTHERN MILTARY HQ

When John awoke, all he was aware of was the pain.

He couldn't tell what hurt or why, he just came to the conclusion that it was everything. Reluctantly he blinked his eyes open to find himself looking at a pitch black sky, strange grey snow falling through a giant hole in the ceiling. Slowly, he tested various body parts to see what was and wasn't working. His shoulder still ached with a vengeance and a fresh pounding was sounding around his skull, but other than that he figured he'd made it through whatever had happened okay. He was covered in bruises that hurt far more than they should, but he blamed that on the pain-enhancing drug and moved on.

He was on the floor, but he was no longer chained to the metal chair. When the groundquake had hit and sent his cell tumbling down a storey the chair hadn't survived, his hands now cuffed to empty air. Bracing himself, John shoved himself onto his good elbow and scanned around him. He was surrounded by unrecognisable piles of rubble, now coated in a fresh dusting of the grey snow. Mysteriously there was now a window in his cell, but he suspected that was actually the wall of the ground floor he now found himself on. Judging by the large, jagged metal pipe protruding from the floor a few inches to his right, he guessed he was pretty lucky to still be alive.

With another groan and several complaints from multiple small-pretending-to-be-serious injuries he managed to get to his feet. The constant shaking of the ground coupled with the grey flakes warned John of the impending disaster of an erupting volcano. He had to find the others, and they had to get out of there. The fact that he had no idea how they were going to do that didn't matter. One problem at a time.

Unsurprisingly, the door didn't open, but thankfully the dividing wall with the next room over no longer existed, so John just climbed over the rubble. He staggered a few times as what he hoped was a minor concussion played pretend at being worse and messed with his balance, but through blind denial and the power of positive thinking, he kept on moving.

He found the first body out in the corridor, though he didn't recognise it as such at first. The person, whoever it was, was covered in the same grey dust as everything else, blending it into the background. John moved on; there was nothing he could do.

He passed a few more before he found one that was still moving, and he dropped to a crouch beside it. In the near blackness of the corridor he could barely make out who it was – that was, until he spoke. "Wh…where are…you…going to…go?"

It was General Calaren, a massive lump of…something…pinning him from the chest down. Blood oozed from his lips, trailing dark rivulets in the grey dust. He was as good as dead, John knew, but he still found himself trying to work out a way of freeing him. He didn't know why; the guy had tortured him barely an hour before, but still John tried. "I don't know."

"There…there is a…place…where the…Master Chief…is going..." Calaren gasped out between stifled breaths, and John paused in his attempts to free the man – they were fruitless anyway. "It…will be…the last…to go…To the…East…Talyn…will know…"

"Why are you telling me this?" John couldn't help but ask. His tactical mind had already jumped five steps ahead, configuring this nugget of intel into the beginnings of a potential escape/rescue plan. Maybe there was a chance after all. A slim one.

Calaren gurgled on a mouthful of blood before answering. It was obvious he didn't have many breaths left. "Our fate…not yours."

And with that General Pheta Calaren was gone. John didn't hang about. He needed to find the others and get them to this place where they would have the most time. If they were lucky Carter would have recalled the Apollo and sent Ellis to come and get them – if they could just stay alive until that happened, there was a chance to get off this cursed planet alive.

Both the quaking ground and his cock-eyed equilibrium were fighting his ability to stay upright, but John clambered onwards regardless. He hadn't known the layout even before the building had gone on an acid trip, so he didn't bother trying to find landmarks or things he remembered. He knew the others had to have been close to his cell; he had heard them when it had been their turn with the screwed up drug. The fact that his cell had dropped a floor was throwing this theory off a little though.

"Teyla! Ronon! McKay!" John yelled, almost choking on a lungful of grey flakes that the action earned him. Once the coughing subsided he tried again, and then again, until he finally heard a barely audible reply. It was hard to discern from the cacophony of sound around him, but he could just make out someone calling out his name. "Rodney?"

The call came again, and John changed direction, climbing over what was once a staircase and down into the remnants of a cell identical to his own. He caught sight of a grey figure trapped to a metal chair and half buried in rubble and doubled his efforts to reach him. "Rodney!"

John skidded to his knees next to the lump, ignoring the extra sensory pain response to the manoeuvre. With the arm he could still move he began pulling off the masonry and brick that covered the lower half of McKay, wincing when he caught sight of his leg. Something metallic impaled Rodney through his right thigh, black blood staining the immediate area. Thankfully it wasn't attached to anything so he wasn't trapped, but John knew that with the drug that had to be hurting like hell.

He freed Rodney's restraints and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Rodney? Can you hear me? Rodney? McKay!"

"Y-yeah…I h-hear ya…So d-does th-the other…side of the…pl-planet…" Rodney retorted through clenched teeth, and John found himself grinning in relief. If the astrophysicist was making bad jokes then he had to be alright. Or at least getting better at not being quite so over dramatic. Or a lot worse than he was admitting.

The ground gave another violent shudder then, and John leaned over Rodney to shield him from the debris it shook loose. Another reminded that they really should get out of there and find the others. John leaned back again, and then climbed over Rodney so that he could use his good shoulder to support him when he pulled him up. "We've got to move. Sorry."

McKay grumbled something under his breath that John didn't catch over the symphony of destruction around them. He then let out an all too audible groan as John yanked the scientist upright and then struggled to get them both to their feet. He slung Rodney's arm over his shoulder, grimacing when it struck the gunshot wound from eons ago, and then got them moving again. Rodney gave a small, understated whimper every time he put the slightest of weight on his right leg, and John silently praised him for his bravery. With the drug still pumping through him this exercise had to be excruciating.

"Teyla! Ronon!" John recommenced yelling once they were out of the cell. The ground was shifting more and more beneath them, almost flooring the pair of them several times. Things were getting worse. They had to get out of there now. "Teyla! Ronon! Come on!"

"John? John!"

John staggered to a stop, leaning Rodney against a wall as he looked behind him to where the familiar voice was coming from. Teyla appeared a second later, Ronon and Talyn close behind. The three of them were like grey ghosts in a world where everything was grey, and through his faux-concussed vision John could barely make them out. Rodney looked relieved for the pause, his pained breathing returning to a slightly more normal rhythm. As soon as the others were within earshot over the rumbling of the ground John said "We've got to get out of here, now!"

"There should still be a gyrocraft out on the landing pad – this way!" Talyn replied, immediately heading off in the direction she'd indicated. Without a word, Ronon and Teyla took over John's task of helping Rodney, each grabbing an arm and holding him between them. Apparently John looked about as good as he felt, and he gave them a grateful glance before following Talyn through the twisted maze of what remained of the structure. She called over her shoulder "I doubt there will be any flyers left though…it could be interesting flying the craft ourselves!"

"I'm a pilot! I can fly anything!" John called back over the increasing din. The groundshakes were getting more and more violent beneath them – this was more than just a volcanic eruption; it was as if the ground itself was being torn apart. Cracks began appearing in the floor underfoot, and John immediately doubled his pace.

Though it didn't take long, it felt like forever had passed before they made it out onto the landing pad. There was evidence of other craft having attempted to take off before: now only grey carcasses remained. This was going to be one helluva take-off.

As if by fate, there was just one of the Franken-choppers left, and Talyn ran straight for it, dragging the door open and then stepping aside to give them space. John climbed straight in and headed for the cockpit while Ronon and Teyla half-helped, half-dragged Rodney on board. Talyn climbed in last, slamming the door closed behind her.

John threw himself into the pilot's seat and then froze.

He didn't recognise anything. None of the controls looked familiar. There were absolutely no similarities to any craft he had ever flown. There weren't even any labels that he could get Talyn to translate. There was simply nothing. How the hell was he going to fly this thing?

The ominous sound of cracking reached them even over the quake and the eruption. Beneath the craft the earth was splitting; the fracture in the surface stemming from beneath the building. The gap was already wide enough there for most of the building to have fallen in. The planet was literally opening up and swallowing the city. In less than a minute, they would be swallowed as well.

"I th-thought you…said you could…fly anything…"

John whipped round at the voice to find Rodney watching him from the rear compartment. Teyla was already beginning first aid with the few supplies she had; all of them trusting him to somehow get them in the air. John turned back to the controls, desperately trying to figure out which button was 'go'. "I can, just…give me a few seconds."

The craft suddenly tilted to the right, a hole appearing underneath them. Time had run out.

John hit a switch; and prayed.

And that right there, is where I am leaving you. Please let me know what you think, even if it is just to tell me how evil I am :P

Helpful Glossary of Solarian Terms: Part Three
'than the herds' – reference to the animals the Solarians cull, usually as a comparison to their low intelligence level
Gyrocraft – the actual name of the Franken-choppers and the primary method of transportation