Sammy Crawford could only shake his head at the sight spread out before him. The land was pockmarked and covered in ugly scars, smoke rising up from places fire never should have touched.
Crawford wondered if he had taken a step back in time. It felt like he was floating above the beginnings of a World War II no-man's-land. The only thing missing was the barbed wire strung between posts.
Or was it? Following his thought, a portion of the Jumper's view screen enlarged a point on the ground below, a jagged line of barbed wire-strung fence posts.
Not one member of the quartet of Marines spoke a word, but Crawford knew they were all thinking the same thing: this was a nightmare.
The ending of a nightmare, Crawford would think, and without knowing the middle or beginning they were completely at loss for an explanation. Nothing made sense. Some places were overgrown with what had to be decades of plant life, others had been used and used until that all could be seen was black mud, and still more were freshly opened and bleeding out their life.
Crawford had seen places like this before. His men had, too. And they were trained not to be affected, not to care. But no human being could look down at this without feeling something.
"No lifesigns," Captain Stevens said. He looked over at his commander. "Doesn't make sense. This place has been used for so long, and so recently—where are all the people?"
"I don't know, Stevens," Crawford replied grimly. "But this many people causing this much steady damage to the land can't disappear into the blue."
"Something alien?"
"Something alien."
"I still can't get over how much we say that," Lieutenant Cook said.
He was in the back, checking the Jumper's supplies. It was a nervous habit of his. Ever since they got stranded on MG8-7481 and nearly starved to death, Lt. Cook always double-checked the Jumper's supplies. And triple-checked. And quadruple-checked.
No one said anything about it to the City shrinks. They understood Lt. Cook's oft-repeated action, and it only made them safer. Starvation was something they would never have to worry about again as long as Lt. Cook was on their team. Besides, it wasn't as if they hadn't developed their own nervous habits.
A run-in with Wraith during which he ran out of clips made Crawford carry at least three extra with him wherever he went.
Stevens every day at dawn and before he allowed himself to rest shot 50 bulls-eyes at the shooting range, because one day he had missed. His aim was only surpassed by Ronon Dex's.
And Lt. Samuels every 30 seconds, regular as clockwork, checked his six. Nobody knew why, nobody asked. Crawford was the only one who knew about Samuels' demotion from Captain, and what had brought it about. He never mentioned it, and neither did Samuels.
Oh yeah. A rare bunch of model Marines they were. Jarheads to the nth degree.
Something flashed on the HUD, with a shrill beeping to accompany it. Lt. Samuels stepped forward, head leaning in some in the space above and between Crawford's and Stevens' heads.
"Oh, that's more like it," Lt. Samuels said. "Energy spike, isn't that, sir?"
It took Crawford a moment to decipher the technobabble displayed. "No. Radiation."
"Oy vey," Stevens sighed. "Hasn't that muck caused enough trouble for us already?"
"I'd say so, but obviously the radiation doesn't agree with either you or me," Crawford replied.
"Are you sure it's radiation, sir?" Lt. Samuels asked. "That looks an awful lot like an energy spike to me."
"Well …" Crawford thought a request to the Jumper, and it took the image of the spike in question and relayed more detailed information. "See if you can make sense of that, Lieutenant."
Lt. Samuels focused on the readout, but not before tossing a glance over his shoulder. His intensity made Crawford uneasy, and as he occasionally glanced over at the image, trusting the little ship to correct itself, he was nagged by the feeling that the reading was familiar. Like he had seen something like it before.
It hit him like a thunderbolt. His mouth opened to shout warning, and the Jumper banked sharply, veering away from the dreaded location.
It was too late. The rolling wave of energy rushed after them and swallowed them up. Crawford and his team were gone.
…
"Where is my team?" John repeated.
His brain was disturbingly foggy, everyone around him was talking nonsense, and his team was nowhere in sight. His team being nowhere in sight always meant bad things. What bad things, he didn't really know. His mind wasn't doing so great with the details right now. But it meant bad, he knew that for sure.
His commander, Carter, was looking at him worriedly.
"Colonel, what's the last thing you remember?" she asked.
Why is she calling me a corncob? She wants me to remember, last thing I remember…
"This morning. Left for… X2I-3115."
"What else? Can you remember anything after that?"
"Could you be a little less impatient?" John snapped, and had the feeling he shouldn't have said that. He struggled with his tar-speed brain. "Talked with you before we left… went through the 'Gate…" He stopped and stared at her. "Where is my team?" he asked again.
Carter sighed. "We don't know, Colonel," she replied. "They left with you offworld; you came back alone. That's all we know, and apparently it's more than you know."
Dr. Crane looked at John thoughtfully. "Perhaps he is suffering amnesia as a result of his physical abuse," he suggested.
John didn't understand that, but everyone else seemed alarmed. "Doctor, Colonel Sheppard has undergone physical and emotional strain you've only read about in textbooks," Colonel Carter said. "That hasn't broken him. It could not possibly be the sole factor in his amnesia now."
"Everyone reaches a breaking point, Colonel Carter," Dr. Crane reminded her. "Even the soldier comes to the place where all he wants to do is run. And when there is nowhere to go but within yourself… you go."
John supposed that meant something to everyone else but him. Right now everything confused him. Except for one thing: his team was gone. Nobody knew where they were. Something terrible could be happening to them, right now. They had to be found!
John had the worst twisting sort of feeling inside, like some part of him knew what was happening. Knew that they were gone.
"No!" John yelled, his voice rough. He tried to get off the bed, but all he succeeded in doing was rolling off and crashing to the floor. Pain exploded everywhere in his body, and the shock of it was so unexpected that John screamed before he snapped his mouth shut and gritted his teeth.
Everything was chaos. People were running around him, closing in, grabbing him. His brain went into an overworked state of terror and he thrashed about wildly, trying to throw these suddenly threatening people as far away from himself as he could.
Someone grabbed his arm and stuck it out straight, making it poke out from the rest of his body like a funny pink stick. Something glinting plunged into it, and John recoiled away in shock. After a moment's hesitation, he was released and everyone backed away.
John was breathing heavily, and he hurt, oh he hurt. Then everything went sort of fuzzy and began to swirl all around. He felt dizzy, and as things began to go dark his trembling limbs relaxed.
Before everything went away, John heard someone say, "It must be something to do with the amnesia, Colonel. He can't think clearly."
"That's what worries me, Dr. Crane."
…
"Hi, Chuck," Kathy said as she came up behind him.
The technician glanced up at her before refocusing on his work. "Hi, Kathy. Thought you'd be down at the infirmary?"
"They don't have much use for researchers in unrelated subjects," Kathy said, frowning. "I thought I'd come up here, see what's happening."
"Major Crawford's team was scheduled to check in with an update five minutes ago," Chuck said. "Every fifteen minutes he's contacted us, but nothing new has come up." He frowned, brow creasing as he looked at the Gate. "So far he's been very punctual, this is the first that he's been late."
"Maybe you…"
"Should tell Colonel Carter? Already have. She said to wait another minute, then dial."
"And?"
"It's been a minute." Chuck keyed in the address for X2I-3115 and the wormhole engaged. Several technicians' eyebrows went up in alarm as well as their tones, and immediately the shield was put in place.
"What's going on?" Kathy asked.
"Radiation, huge amounts," Chuck said. "This wasn't coming through before." He put his hand up to his headset. "Major Crawford, this is Atlantis, come in." He gave the necessary pause. "Major Crawford, this is Atlantis, come in…"
Kathy discovered her teeth were in danger of tearing of the inside of her cheek. She didn't care. She had heard so much about this nightmare situation, the desperate hoping against hope and crushing fear as you called… and no one answered.
"Major Crawford? Major Crawford, this is Atlantis, please respond." Chuck was growing increasingly agitated. His knuckles had long gone white.
Crawford. Kathy remembered him now. She had met him on the same morning she had first run into John again. His first name was Sammy, and he thought absolutely no one should know. She had liked him, he had a good sense of humor.
This was the man on the other side of the 'Gate right now? He and his team?
"Major Crawford, this is Atlantis, please respond. Major Crawford, this is Atlantis, come in please…"
I wish I could have made this chapter longer, but when I tried, everything seemed really awkward, so I didn't. :( Oh well. I really wanted to leave you with something longer, since I'm not going to be able to post any new chapters for the next couple of weeks. I'm going down to my grandparents for two weeks, so while I will likely get some writing done, you won't be seeing the fruits of it right away.
Hopefully the visit with my grandparents will juice up my writer's bug. Acreage of woodland is always good for inspiration. And then of course there is Dragon's Place… mm, I'll have to tell you guys about that one sometime.
So, until I return, fare thee well and have a fantastic time of it! :) I look forward to writing and talking with you all again soon! Bye!