Survival of the Fittest6
John settled the Jumper next to the other one. He grabbed his gun, followed Ronon and Jason Reynolds out of the ship. An anxious Rodney darted ahead of them to the other ship. It was battered but intact. "Katie! Katie, open the–"
The hatch opened. Katie flew into Rodney's arms. "Rodney! Thank God! Please!" She pulled him to the injured marine. George Larson was lying on the floor, a makeshift tourniquet on his arm. Jason grabbed a medkit, set to work.
"Katie, where did they go? Katie!" John snapped, after a quick assessment of the injured man.
"Through the trees! North. Colonel, be careful! Those men...they are mutated, bizarre...not fully human...they don't speak!"
John nodded, glanced at Ronon. "Reynolds, stay here. Rodney, fly the Jumper back to Atlantis. Larson needs medical assistance now."
"But you–" Rodney protested.
"We're going to get our people. I'm not losing anyone else." A dark cloud hovered on him, but John shoved it aside. Buried it. "Go. Give us one hour, then attempt contact. Then retrieval with a full team. Go!" John strode out of the ship, Ronon on his heels. Quickly they circled the emerald pool. "At least they didn't take our ordnance." He gathered the dropped guns, threw a few to Ronon.
"There's blood. Here." Ronon was kneeling in the ferns, frowning.
"Can you track it?"
"Yes." Ronon headed for the tree-line.
John followed. "Rodney, copy? Don't go just yet. We have injured nearby. Send Reynolds to our twenty for retrieval."
"Copy, Sheppard." Rodney watched the men disappear into the trees, watched Jason rush after them with long strides.
Ronon stopped. Knelt. "It's Josephes. He's alive. Just."
John ran to them. "Reynolds! Here!" He knelt next to the lieutenant. The young man was pale, sweaty. Blood covered his leg. "Josephes, what the hell happened?"
Aaron groaned as Jason joined them, examined the younger man's injury. "There were hundreds, sir! Some kind of Cro-Magnon mutant men. They took Lorne, Moira, and Parrish. Down that way! They dumped me here because I couldn't keep up with them!" He struggled to sit up, fell back. "Sir, they took them! They took–"
"Easy, lieutenant. At least they want them alive," John assured. "They didn't speak?"
"No, sir...just a grunting stammer...I don't think it was a language but..."
"Reynolds, get him to the Jumper. Rodney," John tapped his earpiece, "once Reynolds returns you have a go. Get the injured to Atlantis." John glanced at Ronon. "Can you–"
"This way." Ronon led him through the thick foliage.
They walked for what seemed like hours. Fighting through tangled vines. Steep foliage that conspired to block their every step. John wished he had a machete. Used his P90 to hack through the overhanging moss that threatened to swallow him. Ronon used his bare hands to tear apart anything and everything in his path.
"End of the trail." Ronon peered over a cliff. Water sparkled several feet below them.
John slipped, caught himself. "Damn moss is everywhere. Much more than the last time." He stared round. "They went over? All of them?"
"Looks like it." Ronon spun, gun raised. John turned. Noises in the greenery behind them. Grunts and groans. The snapping of branches. "Sheppard."
Men appeared. Heavily built, muscled. Low brow ridges. Receding chins. Bony protrusions that John recognized from Ford's men. But these weren't Ford's men. Some waved rifles. The weapons drew John's attention. The old-fashioned guns. They advanced. Only four. Then seven. Then ten.
"Don't shoot. Not yet. Let's go."
"Over?" Ronon asked. Glanced down the cliff side.
"Yeah." John stepped towards the edge. The men advanced. Grunting. Growling. Beady eyes full of hostility. A shot hit the moss near his feet. "I'd say now. Now!" He stepped off the edge of the cliff. Ronon followed, yelling.
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"Leave it!" Evan shoved the mutant aside, grabbed the canteen and drank greedily. He handed it to Matthew who had collapsed on a rock. The botanist drank eagerly.
"Major...I can't go on..." he wheezed.
"We need to rest. To rest!" Evan insisted. The mutants shoved him, gestured. Shook a stick.
"No." Evan sat down. "We need to rest, damn it! Go get your leader! The bald one!" The mutant snarled. Shoved. Evan shoved back, suddenly punched the man's jaw.
"Major, no!" Matthew objected.
"Ow!" Evan shook his sore fist. "Son of a–" He spun as he was shoved. Fell to the ground as they mutant clobbered him angrily.
"Stop! We'll work! See? See!" Matthew began to resume prying off the moss as Evan groaned, spit out blood. "Major, get back to work. They're too strong. Think of Moira. We can't let anything happen to her!"
"Yeah, yeah..." Evan grumbled. Forced himself to stand. Resume digging with a shovel. "If anything happens to her there will be hell to pay," he muttered.
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John hit the water hard. Sank to the bottom. He struggled towards the surface, gasping as he broke through the water. Grasp tight on his P90. Legs pumping as he kept himself afloat. Ronon shot out of the water near him. Creating a geyser of liquid as he ejected himself from the bottom of the pool. "Ronon!"
"Fine! Shore!" He began to swim, deep, long strokes that left waves in his wake. John followed, slinging his gun over his shoulder. He clambered out of the water, fell to his knees weighed down by water, by weapons. "Sheppard."
John looked over to find them surrounded by more of the men. "Shit. Don't move. Put down your gun. Try to look less threatening."
"What?"
"They should take us to our..." John stopped talking. Stared as the leader grunted. Strode to them. Vegetation hung from his tattered clothing like bizarre ornamentation. He gestured, speaking a strange, noisy language that had no recognizable words. He neared, sniffed Ronon. The Satedan snarled, lunged to shove the leader. Was instantly set upon. "Ronon! Leave it be!" John ordered as his friend struggled. He watched the leader slap Ronon with a long stick, causing him to fall to the ground.
The leader gestured. Snapped words that weren't words. He approached John. Sniffed. Sniffed again, leaning close. Too close for comfort.
John veered backwards from the fetid odor. "God I hope this isn't some weird ritual." The leader grinned. Pointed. Gestured. Laughter ensued among the men.
"What the..." Ronon stared, wiped blood from his split lip.
"I have no idea. Maybe it's my deodorant. Hey!" John was hauled to his feet, stripped of TAC vest, weapons, earpiece. Dragged around the pool. "Ronon, just go with them!" he ordered as others dragged the big man in the opposite direction.
"What's the plan?" Ronon shouted.
"Hell if I know! Let me think of one!" John retorted, struggling to be free, to walk. "All right, all right, I'm going, damn it!" They descended into a cave. Past a sparkling pool. Moss was everywhere. Tiny blue flowers bloomed.
The leader grunted, gestured, talked in the weird guttering language. Hoots and hollers ensued, echoing off the cave's walls. Several slapped John on the back like a friendly gesture, but it nearly knocked him off his feet.
"Cut it out! Damn it, cut it out!" he snapped, falling to his knees on the mossy ground. Stared ahead of him. Near the mossy wall Moira was shakily moving to her feet. Unharmed. "Moira!" he called, relieved.
"John? John!" Moira ran to him as he stood, catching her as she flung herself into his arms, nearly knocking him down again. "John, John!" she said, hiding her face against his chest. She held onto him tightly as relief overwhelmed her.
John's arms enfolded her. He guided her to the wall, glancing at the men silently watching. Watching. "Moira, Moira, it's all right. I'm here. We're getting out of here. What the hell is going on?"
She stepped out of his grasp, calmed herself. "You...they knew to bring you to me."
"What?" He half-turned to see them all still watching. Silent. "What the hell is going on here, Moira?"
"I, I don't know...John..." He turned back to her, touched her rosy cheek.
"Are you all right? They didn't hurt you, did they?"
"No. No..." Suddenly embarrassed she hugged him, hid her hot face against his shoulder. Seeking solace in his solidity. His strength. "John. I don't know where Evan and Matthew are. And, and Aaron was injured!"
"We found him. He's safe now." John kissed her cheek. "Honey, are you sure you're really all right?" he asked into her ear.
She forced herself to step back from him, to free him. "Yes. I..." She looked at the watching men. Colored again recalling the sniffing. The extremely rude sniffing of the leader. She held onto John's arm, pulled him to sit next to her. Against her and the wall. "They came out of no where. There's a man...unaffected...normal...speaks English."
"There is? Where? Did he tell you anything?"
"I don't know...he..." She closed her eyes a moment, opened them. Met his concerned, bewildered gaze. "He said they won't hurt me. Or you. They need, they need recruits to build a city. A city."
"A city? What city?" John glanced again at the men. "Where is this guy? How do we contact him?" He made to rise.
"No! John!" She pulled him to her. "I don't know. Don't go!"
Hearing her anxiety he relented, sat next to her. Slipped his arm around her waist. "Not without out, Moira. Relax. I won't let anything happen to you. What do you think these men...are?"
"I don't know," she sighed. "Some early humans...not us, but close. Affected by the enzyme but not, not like Ford...or you were...they..." She struggled to think coherently.
John eyed them. Studied the cave. Looked at the overflowing moss. Turned to examine the wall. Saw a tunnel leading off from it. Felt fresh air. He turned back to her. "All right. We've got an egress point. I think. Do you have any idea where the others were taken?"
"No. I woke up here. Alone..." She shuddered at the memory. "They won't let us go until the work is done."
"We'll see about that." He frowned, freed Moira to move directly in front of her. "Why are they staring at us like that? What the hell do they want?" he asked tersely. The silent, expectant gazes were unnerving.
"They expect you to mate."
At the clear, concise voice John moved to his feet, pulling Moira with him. He kept her behind him as a bald man approached, paused near the crouching leader. "Who the hell are you?" John snapped.
"You're the one, then. Good thing you showed up now. Once your scent is off her your woman becomes his." He pointed to the leader. "His to claim. Unless you claim her first."
"Claim? Scent? What?" John asked, bewildered. Recalled the sniffing. The laughter. Quickly he glanced back at Moira who blushed, hid her face against his back. He looked at the bald man. "Look, pal, we just want to find our friends and leave this–"
"No. The city must be completed. Meanwhile you wait. You claim her, or he does. Eh, Niko?" The bald man issued a guttural suggestion that made the leader grin. The others hoot.
"Wait! What city? What are you talking about?"
"They won't let you leave," the bald man stated. "Not with her unclaimed. So fuck her again, or leave her. Your choice."
John tensed. Glowering he took a step forward. "You son of a –"
"John! No!" Moira pulled him back to her as they men growled, snarled. The leader stood, waved a large stick.
"I will go check on your friends," the bald man offered.
"Wait!" John cursed, stepping back with Moira as the bald man disappeared. The leader growled, towering over them. Making threatening gestures. "Shit! See? Why do you think I want to keep my private life private?" he rued.
She smiled, guided him to the wall. "John...what are we going to do?"
He considered. The grunts had subsided. The leader resumed his crouch, stick on the ground. Waiting. Grinning. "I don't think I can take him. Certainly not all of them at once. If I had to choose...I'd prefer sex to fighting."
"What?" she exclaimed, startled.
He turned to her, guided her to the ground. The moss was soft, spongy. He kissed her, moved her onto her back.
She stopped him. "John! You can't be serious! There is no way in hell we are having–"
"You heard the man. I have to claim you. Or he will. Your choice." He kissed her again. Laughed suddenly at the absurdity of it all.
Moira hit his arm. "John! It's not funny! John!"
"Ssh," he kissed her again, moving over her. "You really think I'd share you with anyone? Anything?" he said into her ear. "Simulate, Moira. Trust me. Simulate. We always seem to have pretend sex on this planet, don't we?" he instructed. Hands running over her wet clothes. He moved up her wet, clingy shirt. Kissed over the scar on her side. Tasting wet, warm skin.
Moira gasped, shifted despite herself. She flushed, glancing at the crowd watching. Some groaned. John's own groan made her turn her head back as he moved up her body. He kissed her lips, her throat. "John?" she whispered, shifted. Felt his own reaction.
He smiled, met her gaze. "Sorry, sweetheart. You really should come with a warning label."
"John, you–"
"Simulate me, baby," he instructed, moving against her in a very obvious way. Moaning.
"Don't call me baby," she scolded, but kissed him, began to audibly convey her own pretend arousal. Gasps and whimpers escaping her lips.
"That's better. Simulate. Pull me closer," he instructed, glancing at the audience. Some were rocking. Groaning. An appreciative wave went up at her vocalizations. "Louder. Louder," he intoned against her skin.
Moira sighed, pulled him against her. Legs opening wider. "Damn it, John, you really owe me for this!" she complained, began to squirm, gasping and moaning loudly.
An answering wave from the crowd made a laugh escape John's lips. He buried it in her hair, on her skin. "Ah...you are way too good at this, baby."
"Shut up, John! You better have a plan!" she snapped, repeating her moans, her sharp cries as if climaxing. "John!" She hit his arm again as he began to move against her in earnest.
"Sorry! You've got me coming with that mouth of yours," he accused. Kissed her. "Hold on tight, Moira."
"What?"
"Loud! Loud!" He groaned with exaggerated overstatement, rolled them so she was on top. Moira moaned, cried out in a prolonged whimper. He rolled them back, closer to the tunnel. Glanced at the audience as he shoved against her. Most were groaning. Rubbing. Doing things that he would rather not see.
"Oh my God..." Moira gasped, staring past his shoulder. Seeing things she never thought she would.
"Time to go. This performance is over...poor guys," he noted with a grin. He jumped to his feet, pulled Moira to hers. "I know how they feel," he sadly commented. Pulled her down the tunnel.
"Shut up, John!" she said breathlessly. "Why aren't they following?"
"Trust me. It will take a few minutes for them to realize the show's been cancelled." He laughed suddenly. "You know, usually with you a mission is a B-horror movie. But this was has turned into a porno. Not that I'm complaining but still–"
She hit his back. "John! It's not funny! Shut up!"
He pulled her into a run. "It's hilarious, Moira. Except for the unfulfilled sex part. Damn it. You owe me, I think." They ran up the tunnel's incline. Feet nearly bouncing off the moss. Fresh air beckoned. They ran out onto a plateau. A jungle full of greenery surrounded them. Moss was everywhere.
Moira stopped, staring. "What could have caused the explosion of moss proliferation?"
"Unless you want to be their jungle queen we need to keep moving," he urged. "This way." He glanced back towards the cave. Heard shouts. Grunts. Angry realization. "Spell's broken! Come on!"
They ran into the trees, ducking, dodging as the noise of their pursuers grew louder. Closer. John paused. "Jackpot! Here!" He crouched in the ferns, grabbing assorted guns.
Moira crouched across from him, looking past him. "I don't see them yet. They'll be able to smell us..." she grimaced, briefly met his gaze. Frowned. "It's not funny!"
"Sorry." He grinned, stuck a 9mm handgun into his pants, shoved another at her. "Here."
She took it, moved it behind her to place it like he had. He laughed, caught her arm. "What?"
"Whoa there, sweetheart." He took the gun. Clicked on the safety. Moved close to wrap his arms around her. Lift her shirt. Slide the gun into her pants. "You don't want to shoot off that pert little ass, now. That would be a tragedy."
"John! Shut up or–" He cut off her protest with a kiss. Drew back. Shoved a P90 into her hands.
"Here. Up the ridge. We need a good hiding spot." He grabbed the other two guns, led her through the foliage. Vines snagged. Ferns brushed their legs. Grasses tangled their boots. The trees became denser. Harder to maneuver around. But provided better coverage. The hoots and hollers seemed to surround them. Gunfire rent the air.
John paused, searching the terrain. He advanced, stepped off the cliff into thin air. "Shit!" He pulled back as Moira stumbled into him. "Cliff. Hold on." He scanned the terrain again. Listened to the pursuing horde. "They're flanking us. Both sides. But they can't get through this stuff as quickly as we can. Ah."
"Ah? Not that again," she wearily complained.
"See that?" He pointed, moved to his knees. She did the same. Stared at a green overgrowth, a tunnel heading up along the cliff. Concealed unless you were looking for it. "Go. Just stay away from the edge."
"Good idea, colonel," she sarcastically agreed. "It could be a dead end. You don't know–"
"We need the cover. Now. Go. I'll be right behind you. Believe me." He grinned.
She glared at him. "Damn it." She moved to her hands and knees. Began crawling into the green tunnel. "Stop staring at my ass!" she snapped.
John laughed, following on his hands and knees. "Sorry, baby. There's nothing else to look at, and I need to keep an eye on you. Not that I mind," he taunted, following her swinging hips. The curves of her rear were hugged by the wet pants. "I'd follow that pert little ass anywhere. Especially in those tight, drenched pants. Say, Moira, you are wearing panties, aren't you? From this angle it is hard to tell."
"Shut up, John!" she called tersely over her shoulder. She crawled quickly. Could almost feel his heavy gaze on her. "We are not having sex again. Ever!"
He laughed. "Hey, Moira, sex with me saved you back there. My scent all over you, right? So don't go cutting off our best means of defense."
"Hilarious, John!" She emerged onto a small clearing, on the edge of the cliff. She looked down. "John!"
He moved beside her. Stared. The city spread for miles. What was left of a city. Ruins dominated. Towers were broken. Every stone was covered, inundated by the moss. Dozens of the mutated men swarmed over the site.
"Ah. Three o'clock."
"What?"
"To the right," he tiredly translated. Pointed.
"Why didn't you just say so, then?" she snapped. "I'm not one of your marines! Oh! Evan!"
Evan, Matthew and Ronon were standing near one of the broken towers. Hands tied by rope.
"Ronon?"
"Yeah. Looks like a work break. What are they looking at?"
"Beats me." She scanned the site. "It looks Ancient, but very low tech. Destroyed centuries ago. Isn't it strange, John, how the enzyme isn't affecting them like the earlier inhabitants? The cave creatures," she clarified. "I wonder if they have a natural immunity."
"Here." John took the P90. Loaded a fresh clip. Handed it back to her. "Hold it like this." He positioned her fingers. "Sight along here, see?" He moved behind her, adjusting her hold of the weapon. "Like so."
"What are you–"
"I'm going to get our men."
She looked at him in alarm as he pulled a long knife from his boot. He grabbed the remaining guns. "No! I mean...you're just going to leave me here?"
He met her gaze. "Yes. You're my sniper, Moira. You are perfectly safe here. Perfectly concealed. Keep eyes on our twenty. If we need cover lay fire to buy us time. You don't have to hit anything, just hold our position. All right?"
"I...okay...colonel."
He smiled. "I wouldn't leave you here if I didn't think you'd be safe. Cover our six. I'll come back for you, I promise. I promise." He moved to leave, returned. Caught her face gently in his hands and kissed her deeply. "For luck," he smiled. Then was gone. Crawling into the greenery.
"Don't stare at my ass!" he called over his shoulder.
She laughed. "Can't help it, sweetie. You do have a fine one!" she retorted. Sobered. Looked back at the city, at her colleagues. Gun at the ready.