Part 2
As a single file group, tethered to one another by lengths of climbing rope, Sheppard lead his team along a narrow treacherous path that etched itself along the face of large slabs of broken ice. Grey protruding crags of bare rocks and jagged teeth of ejected columns of frozen sea stretched in a zigzagging line for as far as the eye could see left and right. The cutting mix of ice and rock rose sharply, looming over the desolate plains of snow and ice.
The wind swept down the face of the convoluted wall. Sheer rock had been worn smooth over the years by the steady sharp scouring of endless airflow.
The colonel slowly led his team from one protected outcropping to another. Blistering gusts could peel even the strongest soul from a sturdy handgrip. The team dabbled only seconds in exposed areas buffeted by blasts of wind. It battered and tore at them, threatening to pummel them from their tenacious grasp to rock and glacier alike and smash them to the unyielding ice below.
The group crawled and picked their way upward, silently. The sound of harsh breathing and murmured curses occasionally interrupted the constant low whistle of wind. The going was slow, and bitter cold fatigued heavy muscles. Chests expanded, protected within multiple layers of fine clothing, hauling in steady streams of humidified bottled oxygen.
Pulses raced.
The colonel reached the summit ledge of ice and rock. Mittened hands searched for purchase as his booted heel swung up and dug in, hooking a divot. With a burst of strength, he hauled himself up over the ridge, rolling onto his side and back, sucking in great gasps of bottled air.
The wind immediately threatened to roll him back over the edge. He scrambled, and commando crawled to gain shelter behind a vertical slab of grey-black stone.
Through the blowing wind, he reached down and grabbed Ronon's arm, guiding the big Satedan up the last foot of the climb. Dex braced himself against the sudden onslaught of wind, adapting his stance to the punishing push of the air.
His red coated parka rippled fiercely, threatening the integrity of seams.
Together both men lay belly down, shoulders over the edge and heaved McKay up the last few feet. They nestled him behind the protective barrier of stone. The colonel and Dex reached back for Teyla and effortlessly hauled the Athosian off the exposed face of the wall and down beside McKay.
Rodney twisted around and peered down the slope, gauging their next obstacle. He wasn't built billy goat tough…and certainly didn't have cloven hooves. Carson was due for a lot of payback for this little rescue. McKay squinted at the dim shadows that moved far below him. Three forms...three people….
Teyla's breathless thank-you was sharply interrupted by McKay's sudden and panicked shouting.
The three whirled around just in time for Ronon to latch onto McKay's shoulder and keep the Astrophysicist from hurdling his way down the opposite side of the ice and rock wall.
Path be damned apparently.
Sheppard often wandered about scientists in general. Even Zelenka at times acted without truly thinking of consequences. For such a brilliant group, they occasionally lacked the common sense to get out of the rain.
McKay tried to twist from Ronon's grip from his shoulder like one a spider web, without the preferred results. Thank goodness. Sheppard thought.
Rodney, however, undaunted continued to point down the slope.
SGA-1, through the blinding glare of sharp sunlight, stared in the direction McKay's gestured and spotted three orange outfitted forms below on the ice shelf.
The threesome struggled amongst and against one another before a large mound of snow.
Sheppard scrutinized the displaced berm of snow, uneasy with its presence.
A windbreak?
The mound cast a small shadow in the stark brilliance of piercing daylight.
Two tugged the middle person in opposite directions. Both appeared to have weapons drawn, while the third floundered between them, struggling against both as if hindered by more than the polar grasps that clenched him.
The far one slipped, lost their footing and crashed to the ice, dragging the middle orange suited person partially down with him. The other yanked on the middle figure freeing him from the fallen one and pushed him into the lone mound of snow.
The standing figure raised his weapon and aimed at his opposer.
The momentarily discarded figure tried to scramble up over the snow mound, to escape the two feuding men.
The sharp crack of a firing weapon, carried and nearly drowned in the droning wind. It whispered over SGA-1 moments later.
Sheppard and his team peered through the blowing snow trying to determine what was occurring far below them.
The figure on the ice dove backward and to the side as if attempting to dodge a bullet. The middle person scrambled madly up over the berm. The shooter grabbed his ankle and yanked the scrambling figure back down.
Sheppard couldn't determine through the swirling snow and glare if someone had been shot or not.
Did the bullet hit its target?
"They're out of range. I can't hit any of them," Ronon stated. He cut the rope that bound him to the others and slipped free. The Satedan baled over the ledge, following a near invisible path down the other side.
McKay tugged on the dangling climbing rope, freeing it from his harness. The astrophysicist followed Ronon.
"Shit," Sheppard shouted. He quickly worked to free himself from the safety rope. He kept his eyes on the drama that played out far below.
One person was down, one still held a weapon and seemed to be checking the person they just shot. The third once again made a bumbling attempt to scale the snow mound.
The unidentified figure with the gun swung around and almost lazily aimed in the general direction of the scrambling form that desperately attempted to re-scale the windbreak and escape.
High above, the Colonel leaped over the edge of the natural wall and began a mad descent down its rocky and icy face to the ice shelf below. He windmilled his arms as his knees absorbed countless shocks and blows. Abdominal muscles and dorsal strap muscles tightened and flexed instinctively, giving the torso the flexibility to bound and rebound in response to the quick shifting directions of the legs. Thick soled boots gained just enough purchase to allow a foot to land and spring off. The colonel pounced from one solid foothold to the next, gaining speed and maintaining just a breath of control. He passed McKay within seconds and gained on Dex. Sheppard pinballed around the big Satedan and barreled down the face of the decline.
As a single minded group, they scrambled down, over and between great chunks of ice, rock and dehydrated snow.
It took all of two minutes for the Colonel to reach level ground.
Sheppard hit the rippled frozen surface of the ice field with eye watering force that jarred teeth, but never broke his stride. He buried his chin to his chest and dug for speed sprinting in the direction they had last seen the remaining members of SGA-6.
Ronon lagged by only a few seconds. On a flat surface the ex-runner closed the distance on Sheppard.
McKay dropped back, legs and muscles unaccustomed to such abuses, but with a mind as adaptable and malleable as any from two galaxies. Rodney shot down hill keeping his rational and logical consciousness deafeningly quiet.
This wasn't the time to muddle things with thinking.
Teyla shadowed him, just a step behind, a safety net that rested above rather than below.
Fierce gusts of wind scoured the ice shelf, momentarily shielding the distant knot of the struggling three orange figures from sight.
The wind weakened.
The obscuring snow dissipated.
The heavier particulates settled slightly, while light ice crystals danced in the air and reflected light in all directions.
It was momentarily blinding. The excess brilliance was nearly as troublesome as the dearth of light.
Through the settling of the wind, Sheppard spied one figure pulling the scrambling figure once again from the snow mound and onto the ice securing him brutally with a knee to the shoulder. The standing figure then raised his weapon to fire at the fleeing third who desperately took flight across the open ice.
Ronon brought his gun up to fire.
The orange coated shooter was suddenly thrown backward, knocked off balance as the mound of snow before the stationary pair suddenly erupted upward.
Sheppard's sprint hitched as his mind ran through limited possibilities. Explosion? Grenades? His legs continued to flash forward slowly closing the distance of the remaining members of SGA-6, while his mind tried to process the sudden explosion of ice.
Ice chunks showered the area, forcing the SGA-6 teammates to throw arms up over their heads and curl away, ducking from the flying debris.
Ronon continued to sprint across the ice, holding his gun out, stiff armed. He aimed for the flailing shooter.
Dex passed the Colonel.
Shit. Sheppard dug for a little more speed. He gained ground.
Through the endless expanse of blinding white, through the curtain of settling snow, the silhouette of a large white pelted creature unfolded itself and rose to its hind legs, towering over the spilled duo in orange.
The gun toting SGA-6 member back peddled on his seat, reaching desperately for his elusive teammate he had just previously knelt on. He managed to latch onto the coat and yank him backward, away from the creature.
The move appeared almost protective. Sheppard cocked his head unsure of what he was witnessing.
The toppled figure was knocked to his side and fumbled, as if unsure which direction to flee. Uncoordinated attempts at escape were muddled by the desperate clutch of his teammate. The figure sharply dropped and twisted his shoulder, snapping out a solid elbow and breaking the hold of the person clenching him. The newly freed figure then ran full bore into the creature, bounced off, staggered for a step or two and then landed soundly on his posterior.
Has to be Beckett. Sheppard thought. He passed Ronon. A hidden smile lightened Sheppard's face.
Damn. Dex thought.
Off to Sheppard's right, the far escaping third team member of SGA-6 slowed his flight and stuttered to a stop at the sounds of cascading ice chunks. He turned and hesitantly stepped his way toward his downed teammates. And the creature.
The creature, with black tipped nose and rounded ears, pawed the air and bellowed.
The roar shot across the ice as a piercing, screeching wall of sound.
It crashed over the members of SGA-1, sending them to their knees, forcing them to clutch at their hooded heads, covering hidden ears with mitten hands.
Sheppard instinctively curled away from the high pitched sound that rattled his teeth and shook his bones. The sound washed over him like a sonic boom.
He opened his eyes to find Ronon, Teyla and Rodney all in similar stances, twisted away from the enveloping blast of noise.
The colonel turned back toward the three on the ice shelf. One still stood far off as if unsure what to do.
The figure, who had bounced off the creature, now lay curled on the ground, the beast tearing at the thick parka, shaking the huddled figure left and right.
The remaining SGA-6 member lay awkwardly on his pack, sprawled on the ice; spread eagle. The orange parka was slightly darker in some areas than it should be.
The distant third member of SGA-6 continued to hesitate, looked in Sheppard's direction and then sprinted for the expedition member caught in the jaws of the creature.
Ronon, gun out, mitten cover pulled back to expose his heavily gloved hand, dashed past Sheppard toward the creature and the rag doll like Atlantian that hung by his coat from its jaws. "That's got to be, Beckett." Ronon announced.
"No shit," Sheppard muttered. Who else would find some snow monster to chew on him, besides McKay?
Sheppard, Teyla and Rodney tore after Dex.
"Teyla! Rodney! Watch our flank!" Sheppard ordered, pointing toward the separated SGA-6 member.
There was a killer in amongst this group.
The colonel sprinted after Dex, neither gaining nor losing ground.
The Athosian and scientist angled away from Sheppard and headed straight toward the lone SGA-6 member that ran directly for the creature and his dangling teammate.
The report of Ronon's gun echoed unchallenged across the ice field.
The giant white beast pounded its front legs into the ice, large round flattened feet beat the snow, jostling the coated figure snared on its teeth. The parka hooked in its carnassal teeth gave way. Large chunks of white insulation herniated through as stitching ruptured and material tore. The person dangling in its grip struggled frantically. Feet and hands struck blindly at the head and muzzle of the monster.
Red bolts of energy flashed mutely through the punishing glare of the mid day sun. The first bolt skimmed along the flank of the creature, turning unblemished white fur blackish brown. Smoke spiraled up from its side.
The second bolt skipped across its rounded hunched shoulders, sparking small flames in the wiry long guard hairs.
The creature dropped its struggling prize.
The person tumbled to the ice in a heap and curled quickly into a ball. Arms snapped up and wrapped protectively around and over his head and hood.
Ronon steadily closed the distance with gun raised.
The third energy bolt hit true. It blasted fur and meat just behind the left elbow. The creature's bellow was cut immediately short, preventing another shrilling cry.
The creature was flung off its feet. Black, thickened digital pads outlined with long white hairs were exposed for only a moment.
The wind gusted brutally.
A sudden wall of white snow momentarily obscured vision and forced people to huddle close to the ice. Shards of ice pinged thick coats and dashed off goggles.
Hoods rattled deafeningly in the wind, fluttered against faces and goggles. Legs were nearly swept out from under bodies and sheer down drafts threatened to tumble people along the ice.
Bodies huddled close to the ground, digging in, gripping at wind roughened ice, trying to remain rooted.
The wind relented, easing back to a dull roar. The snow settled, relaxed back toward the ground. Patches of wind cleared the ice dotted the snowfield.
Ronon kept his gun unholstered, searching the area for the missing creature. No telltale outlines were noticeable in the backdrop of white.
It was gone.
Its victim lay a few yards down the ice, having been caught in the stream of whipping wind and rolled along as if nothing more than a tumbleweed.
The one that lay sprawled spread eagle, the shooter, now lay with a leg and arm tossed over their counterpart, victims to the ferocity of the gale. The backpack and weapons had kept the body weighted.
Sheppard jogged passed Ronon and stopped next to the first unmoving form.
The head was mauled and indistinguishable. No facial features were left intact.
Where dog tags had once sat unobtrusively around the neck was now torn. Flesh, synthetic material and dog tags were missing.
The surrounding snow was covered with spongy flecks of frozen blood.
The colonel left the body and jogged toward the torn and tufted orange parka a hundred yards away.
Clumsy, uncoordinated movements heralded life.
"Ronon, keep an eye out," Sheppard ordered as he ran. The reprieve from the wind gusts would not last. He didn't want to be chasing down an expedition member like a tumbling piece of windblown mail.
"Teyla? Rodney?" The colonel asked without taking his eyes from the form that struggled to all fours only to tip over to their right. "Who do you have?"
"What?" McKay's disembodied voice sounded over head sets.
Sheppard sighed but the sense of urgency was not diluted. "Who is with you?"
There was a brief pause. Voices whispered low over head phones, obscured by the sound of wind whipped clothing.
"We have Corporal Jones," Teyla sounded with cool definitive efficiency.
Sheppard dropped his chin for just a split second. Corporal Jones was fresh off the Daegulus with a new batch of soldiers. The colonel had not had nor made the time to learn the faces and names of the new replacements. He left the orientation and duty assignments to Major Lorne.
"Sir, Dr. Beckett can't see. Snow blind." Jones's voice sounded shaken even in his attempts to sound secure. "Private McGilly tried to kill us…he killed the others. He just snapped…something about Wraith. Mistreating the Wraith. He said Dr. Beckett needed put down. Dr. McKay too, his knowledge a threat to all Wraith."
"All right, all right. We'll straighten it out later," Sheppard muttered. Private McGilly was another new face. Sheppard peered over his shoulder at the body on the ice. Or maybe not.
The Colonel slowed to a jog as he narrowed the distance to Beckett.
"Doc? You alright?" He approached Beckett, who still struggled to stand. The CMO made it to a wide base three point squat, but lost his balance when his mitten hands left the ice. He stutter stepped to the side, flared his arms and fell back into the shallow snow with a snow suited puff.
"Doc?" Sheppard cautiously stepped forward with hands out, trying to offer guidance. He noticed the CMO's eyes were swollen and held tightly closed. Icicles and snow hung from his eyebrows and eyelashes. Small delicate streams of crystallized moisture tracked from the corners of his eyes, highlighting premature crow's feet. His oxygen mask was somewhat in place. His face remained mostly covered and protected from the wind and snapping cold.
Beckett rolled back to his hands and knees and once again struggled to his feet. He would have fallen backward if Sheppard hadn't grabbed his forearm.
The CMO lurched away from the sudden hold as if electrocuted.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sheppard repeated quickly, "Doc, it's me. Relax. You're alright."
Carson threw himself backward, dragging the Colonel with him. The grip, though tested, remained unbroken and Beckett precariously kept his feet.
The physician, however was not one to give up and lashed out. He yanked his arm free, twisting to the side, but managed to trip over his own two feet. He fell solidly into the ice, slapping the side of his head off the unforgiving ground.
He lay completely still, stunned.
"Shit," Sheppard muttered. He looked to the dimming blue sky, wondering why nothing could go easy. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the sluggishly moving physician.
"Doc, cut it out. It's me, Sheppard." He reached out again to the CMO and latched onto the chest straps of the doctor's backpack.
Beckett yelped hoarsely, pulling himself backward and lashed out with his feet. A boot connected solidly with the side of the Colonel's lower leg.
"Son of a Bitch!" Sheppard let go, hopping on one leg. "Damn it, Carson, knock it off."
Carson wiggled in the snow trying to create distance.
"He can't hear you," Ronon suddenly imparted from beside Sheppard. The ex-runner didn't appear breathless or show any signs of exertion. There were times when the colonel felt pangs of envy.
"What?"
"He," Dex pointed at Beckett, who continued to crab crawl diagonally backward, "can't hear you."
"What? Why not?"
"Snow Yeti," Ronon answered as if that explained everything. Both stepped in time with Beckett maintaining their distance but not allowing the scrambling CMO to get further away.
"And that would mean?"
"Snow monster," Ronon clarified.
"I know what that means," Sheppard answered slightly indignantly. "What does it have to do with him," the colonel pointed a mittened finger at Beckett, "not hearing us?"
"He was in front of it when it roared," Dex stated.
"Sooo…?" Sheppard drew out.
"Temporarily deafens people." Ronon hitched a hip, standing hipshot with his arm bent and gun resting against the point of his shoulder. "Legend has it the Snow Yeti's roar deafens those directly in front of it, leaves them dizzy, so they can't escape if it decides to leave them for a later snack."
Sheppard and Ronon watched as Beckett rolled onto his stomach and tried to gain his feet. The doctor fell unceremoniously to his side.
Sheppard cocked his head to the side and scrutinized Beckett. "He's not doing a very good job of escaping."
"Nope." Ronon lowered his gun and switched the settings. "You want me to stun him?"
"What?" Sheppard looked incredulously back at the Satedan. "No. No, I don't want you stunning him. You know how pissed he'll be if we did that? He'd kill us."
"You," Ronon clarified, holstering his weapon. "I'd just be following your orders."
Sheppard squinted a glare at the Satedan to no effect.
A sharp wind pushed them from behind and whistled over the ice. Snow lifted into the air and swirled about, momentarily blinding them. Outer gear was smudged against their bodies and hoods fluttered. The piercing cold slithered its way in through cold weather gear and sliced skin.
Beckett curled away from the wind, ducking his face behind a shoulder. Tufts of insulation flapped from his torn coat.
The cold stole Sheppard's breath. Ronon appeared unfazed.
In a moment, the wind died down. For the first time since stepping through the gate, the crystal blue sky slowly faded away to grey with the building of cloud cover.
"Storm's coming," Ronon pointed out.
"Figures," Sheppard muttered. He stared up at the darkening sky and then over toward the quietly fumbling doctor who was making no gains in escaping.
Sheppard tapped his radio, "McKay, find us a place to hole up. There is a storm coming."
"How am I supposed to do that?" McKay's indignant and worried voice sounded over earpieces.
"You'll think of something," Ronon assured. "Or we'll all die out here."
"Unfair. This is so unfair," they heard him mutter.
Sheppard shrugged in silent agreement to Rodney's protest.
"Come on let's go get him," He said tiredly, jutting his chin in the direction of the physician. Beckett now lay on his back unmoving on the ice, chest heaving for breath.
Sheppard and Ronon closed in on Carson.
"He can't see or hear us. Won't know we're us," Ronon pointed out matter-of-factly. "We stun him, it'd be easier."
Sheppard stopped and stared pointedly at Dex. "No. I do not want you stunning him." The colonel broke eye contact. "Besides, the Doc's a reasonable guy, he'll figure it out."
"Uh-huh." Ronon uttered with a distinctive lack of conviction.
The two converged on the hapless doctor.