Chapter 7 - The Plan to Catch a Prior
Infirmary
Level 21
SGC
Sheppard woke up feeling groggy and worn out when a nurse named Garcia slowly patted him on the shoulder. He blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the blurriness in his vision, and had to rub a knuckle on the corner of his eye roughly when it didn't work.
"We need to draw some more blood, Colonel," she said softly, apologetically, showing him another massive needle and a tray full of empty vials.
Sheppard stuck his arm out without a word and stared listlessly at the bland privacy curtain, trying to ignore the pressure brought on by the tourniquet she wrapped around his upper arm. Then she scrubbed his inner elbow with disinfectant, causing it to burn. The entire area was full of pinpricks from their earlier draws and it just looked like a massive bruise covering his skin there.
She was careful enough to puncture the vein on her first try, making the procedure as painless as possible. Sheppard was too worn out to feel a thing and he averted his gaze again when he saw the blood coming out to fill what felt like the thousandth vial since his ordeal started.
"What's the time?" He slurred, and coughed to clear the congested throat. It hardly made a difference. "Or better yet, what day is it?"
"Five thirty in the evening, Colonel," Garcia said, swapping out the full vial for an empty one. "And it's Thursday."
"In the same week?"
"Yes, you've been with us for just over four days."
"Feels like four years." Sheppard yawned.
Orlin made an appearance just as Garcia finished draining his blood like a vampire coming out of a hunger strike. She made a hasty exit to get the stuff to the labs as the Alteran collapsed on the chair next to Sheppard's bed. He looked pale and exhausted, and the dark circles around his eyes looked like bruises, making the kid look like a little raccoon.
"John, how are you?" Orlin summoned up a tired smile to greet him. "It's good to see you awake and coherent again."
"How long was I out?"
Orlin glanced at the clock on the wall and squinted a little as if in deep thought. It took way longer than it should have for him to give Sheppard an answer. "A little over eleven hours?" he said slowly, sounding unsure.
"How come I feel like I haven't slept a wink for weeks when all I've been doing is sleeping?" Sheppard mumbled and shuffled on the bed to sit up for a change. Orlin leaned closer and fixed the pillow behind his so he could rest his back on it comfortably. "Anyway, how are you? You don't look so good."
"That would be because I am, indeed, not doing so good," Orlin let out a long, weary sigh.
"What happened?"
"The scans Dr Lam conducted when I collapsed at the lab indicate that the pockets of cells in my brain are just shutting down," he said quietly. "She believes, and I agree, that the cells are dying because they can't handle all the synaptic activity of my thought processes."
"Wait!" John said, concerned. "You collapsed? When?"
"About five hours ago."
"So why are you overusing your brain?" Sheppard frowned.
It was one thing he was laid out on this bed, shaking like a fish out of water because he volunteered to let them wean out the cure for the plague. But it didn't make sense why Orlin would wear himself out now. Sheppard was under the impression he had done everything he could to help already by sticking the cure in him in the first place.
"I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? You're just a kid this time around. Why don't you give yourself a break?"
"I cannot," Orlin admitted. "I have been losing my memories rapidly since my arrival here. I am trying to hold onto them for as long as possible, at least until the threat of the Prior has been dealt with."
"Do you have to?" Sheppard asked softly, feeling bad for the guy. "Can't our people extract the cure from my blood without you having to wipe your brain out?"
"The process is not that easy," Orlin sighed. "They still need my assistance when it comes to sequencing your DNA strands saturated with the virus and the cure. Separating the two entities is still a very much difficult task."
"So what, after all this, you're gonna end up brain damaged? Aren't your buddies from the other plane gonna help?"
"Unfortunately, not."
"Well, that sucks," Sheppard said, trying to sound consoling. He had no idea where to even begin imagining what the Alteran was going through. "I'm sorry."
"It is what it is, John," Orlin murmured. "I knew the risks when I chose this path. I have no regrets."
Sheppard nodded and let his head fall back on the pillow behind his back, closing his eyes. He felt numb, achy, and completely worn out. He knew he only had a moment's respite before the next mutation hit and the fever pulled him under. He wanted to enjoy what little coherence and clarity he felt in his mind.
"Anyway, the construction of the Prior Neutraliser is now complete," Orlin said, changing the subject to something a bit more exciting. "I believe the plan is to test the prototype on the planet Sodan tomorrow."
"Sodan, huh?" Sheppard grimaced. "A bunch of uptight assholes," he muttered, remembering his experience with the highly introverted bunch of Jaffa. "Just because they have some leftover Alteran trinkets and a convenient transporter, they think they can lord over anyone."
Orlin chuckled at his expression. "The other Colonel seems to believe that he might be able to recruit their assistance in the task."
"Yeah, that Colonel also spent two weeks with them getting the crap beaten out of him," Sheppard snorted. "He thinks that was a great bonding experience."
"I heard you were able to gain entry to their village by bypassing the code for the transporter?" Orlin raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I did," Sheppard nodded before turning to Orlin, intrigued. "About that, that was also you, wasn't it? All the gadgets your people left behind start singing in my head whenever I get near one of them!"
"That is another wonderful thing I chanced upon when I encountered you," Orlin admitted enthusiastically. "That ability is due to your ancestor."
"My ancestor?"
"It was Janus who came up with the idea to introduce a safety key to our technology as it advanced," Orlin began to explain excitedly. "He invented the sensors we embedded in all our devices that seek out the special genetic markers in the user. He also added the mental component that requires the user to fully interface with the devices."
"Okay?"
"Janus' own DNA markers are embedded in all Alteran devices scattered throughout the galaxies," Orlin carried on, unfettered by Sheppard's skepticism. "And whenever his specific genetics are detected by the devices, they identify the carrier as the primary user."
"Oh," Sheppard said, trying to figure out what that meant. "Um, you mean… was he? My family–"
"Has descended from Janus," Orlin completed his rambling thought. "I felt the connection the moment I placed my hand upon your heart to restore your life. I merely awakened the genetic markers, hoping the ability would be useful when the time came…"
"What do you mean?" Sheppard prodded when Orlin trailed off with a confused frown.
"You, ah, in the future–" Orlin started to say, but he couldn't complete the sentence. He ducked his head with a grimace. "I…I apologise. I do not remember–"
"Hey, Orlin, it's fine," Sheppard said, leaning over a little to pat him on the shoulder awkwardly. "Don't worry about it. As you said, we humans aren't meant to know our future beforehand, remember? I think it's better that way."
Science Lab
SGC
Mitchell eyed the small disk-shaped device placed on top of a closed metal briefcase. Somehow, he had been under the impression the device would be a little bigger, a touch longer and hopefully had a port where he could feed it super bullets that had the ability to penetrate the forehead of a Prior.
"So how does it work?" he asked, consciously putting an effort to erase the doubtful frown forming on his forehead. "Assuming, it actually does… work."
"Huh, you know, I keep telling myself that one of these days, I'm going to do something that actually gets me a little respect around here," Lee shook his head, looking a little offended.
"We're all waiting for that day, Bill," Jackson informed the poor scientist without a trace of guilt and effortlessly ignored the sad face Lee made.
"Theoretically, once activated, the device will emit an omnidirectional ultrasonic field…" Carter started to explain but got cut off by Lee.
"And THAT will prevent the Prior from accessing the highly evolved area of his brain that gives him superhuman abilities," he finished with a flourish.
Jackson picked up Lee's coffee mug and sniffed its contents, trying to see if the man had been spiking it or something. Mitchell understood Jackson's unvoiced reasoning. The man did look a bit more hyperactive than usual.
"Of course, we're presuming that the staff weapons the Priors carry are also mentally activated and will also be neutralised–" Carter carried on while Lee pointedly ignored their skepticism.
"And while we're at it, why don't we just assume that I can fly?" Mitchell deadpanned.
Lee completely missed the thick layer of sarcasm in his words. "Oh, actually, I've been working on a theory where–"
"You said so yourself it would be risky, didn't you?" Carter cut him off.
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know I said that," Lee nodded, shrugging. "But the more I'm hearing, the more it's crossing over into crazy. Don't get me wrong, I like crazy, that's why I asked for this job."
Mitchell exchanged a glance with Jackson who waited patiently for the two geeks to get it out of their systems. But, Mitchell had to agree, Lee's reasoning did strike a cord when it came to a lot of things in SGC.
While not a requirement, a healthy amount of insanity definitely helped in their line of work, most of the time.
"One more thing,' Carter said, packing the device inside the briefcase. "There's a range of frequencies programmed into the emitter. If one doesn't work at first, try the others."
Sodan Planet
P9G-844
Mitchell was mostly sure about the welcome they were going to receive when they stepped through the stabilised wormhole.
The Sodans did not disappoint.
…
Jackson accompanied him with the four-man SG team as they walked through the cleared path to where the Ancient Obelisk was located. Since they didn't have Sheppard and his wonder-gene this time around, Mitchell expected they would have to do the meet and greet the hard way this time.
Jackson was on edge, Mitchell could tell by the way the man kept pointing his weapon at the woods every time he heard a sound or saw movement in his periphery. Mitchell couldn't really blame him. The four Marines had harder nerves than that, and they did their best to look at ease, although they all walked with the P-90s at ready. Mitchell, however, didn't really bother. He knew more or less how the show was going to go down, and he saw no reason to make it worse than it was going to be.
Like the last time.
"Relax, Jackson. I spent two weeks with these guys. You got nothing to worry about." he lied with a chuckle.
"Well, considering what happened the last time we were here, you'll forgive me if I'm a little cautious." Jackson snapped, swiveling his head around.
"We'll be fine."
It was as if they had been waiting for him to say those words.
Sodan warriors materialised all around them, and Mitchell wished he had Sheppard's cool-assed ability to see through the damned cloaks. Jackson raised his P-90, but one of the warriors knocked it out of his grasp with a krantu staff, before stabbing Jackson's left side with his blade. The man groaned and clutched his side, and Mitchell was worried for a moment that he had been seriously injured. But when no blood came gushing from his side, he realised that Jackson's vest had protected him.
One of the Marines was already out of action, frozen on the spot with a blade held very close to his throat by a Sodan. Mitchell's P-90 was also knocked aside by a warrior, but Mitchell was ready for him when the attacker lunged. He grabbed the krantu staff and backhanded the Sodan in a move that was designed to mock and enrage. He twirled the krantu staff expertly, eyeing the Sodan before him. In his periphery, he saw two more members of the SG team being disarmed and forced to remain still, faced with the bladed krantu staffs.
The reception party steadily cranked up the fun and games when Jackson, who was still bent over, got struck on the side of his skull by the wooden end of a staff. He staggered back into yet another Sodan, who proceeded to hug him from behind and introduce a sharp tip of a dagger to the vicinity of his unprotected neck.
The remaining Marine tried to take on a Sodan in hand-to-hand combat, but it didn't end all that well. He ended up overpowered and placed in a choke hold, despite his continuous, largely fruitless struggles.
Mitchell traded blows with his own Sodan with calm precision. He even managed to throw his opponent off balance when the staffs connected by twisting his arm and knocking the man to the ground with a well-aimed kick that would have made Jolan proud. Before he could press his advantage, however, the warrior who first attacked Jackson, grabbed Mitchell's collar and pulled him back by the scruff of the neck. Then there was the sharp, glinting end of the krantu staff touching his neck, ending the fight for good.
He dropped his staff to the ground and smiled at the grim warrior disarmingly, waiting for the act-two to unfold.
"Are we still fine?" Jackson managed to throw sarcastically in between pants.
"Yeah, we're fine," Mitchell said calmly, hoping against hope that was the case.
"Good. Just checking." Jackson sniped before turning back to glare at his captor.
….
They ended up locked inside a wooden hut this time, a significant downgrade from the amenities Mitchell had received the first time around. There was even a guard outside, just in case they managed to break out. They were both given food though, a mushy soup of vegetables and meat, which actually tasted much better than the gruel Jolan fed him when he had been nursing Mitchell back to health.
As if summoned by the ungrateful thoughts, Jolan walked over to stare down at them through the tiny window that was barred by bamboo sticks.
"Jolan!" Mitchell greeted him with a wide grin, placing his empty bowl on the floor. "Hey, it's good to see a familiar face."
Jolan didn't return the smile or the enthusiasm. "Lord Haikon wishes to see you," he said, opening the door.
Mitchell stood up and adjusted his cap. "Let's rock and roll."
They left Jackson to entertain village kids while they took off towards Haikon's residence.
"It was foolish of you to come," Jolan muttered as they walked. "The others are distrustful of you.
"Yeah, I kinda got that," Mitchell said, looking around discreetly. The various expressions of anger, confusion, and doubt were plain enough on all the faces of the ones who watched them. At least, the fear he had seen during Sheppard's rather unorthodox entrance was absent, which was a good thing. Mitchell needed the Sodans feeling that they had the upper hand this time for his plan to work.
"Haikon will have your answers." Was all Jolan said just before they entered the village leader's hut.
HaiKon's Hut
Sodan Village
Sometime Later
Jolan and Mitchell had been waiting for some time when Haikon returned, still in his armour, as if he had been out on a mission. A servant helped him take off his leather armour in the foyer before he entered the lounge where they were waiting for him.
"Welcome, Mitchell," Haikon said cordially before dropping on the low stool facing them across from the low table.
Mitchell was completely caught off guard. The man's tone was entirely different from their last encounter, where he had snarled at them never to return.
"Thank you, Haikon," Mitchell replied pleasantly, covering his surprise behind a smile and a nod.
Haikon proceeded to pour strong-smelling tea from a pot into the small cups they had on the table.
"I apologise for making you wait," he said once he was done. "I just came back from a mission of great importance."
"We were informed of a world of non-believers who were conspiring against the Ori. The Prior dispatched us to 'deal' with them." Jolan elaborated, picking up the tea Haikon poured for him.
"You mean kill them," Mitchell said, sipping some tea from his own mug. He had to put some effort not to grimace at the strong bitter flavour. Even after two weeks of chugging down variations of the stuff, he was not used to the beverage in the slightest.
"Well, we were told they posed a considerable threat," Haikon shrugged. "'Leave not the smallest pebble, nor allow any hindrance that will slow your people's progress.'" he quoted the Book of Origin. "So said the Prior."
"Yeah, the Priors say a lot of things," Mitchell muttered in disgust before pinning the Sodan leader with a serious expression. "Look, I'm the last person to criticise someone for what they believe, but–"
"If your intention is to convince me to withdraw support for the Ori, you need not bother," Haikon said, cutting him off.
"You're making a big–" Mitchell started stubbornly, but trailed off when Haikon held up a hand calmly.
"I have already decided as much."
Mitchell thought he heard wrong for a second. "What?"
"We went to the planet as the Prior instructed. Two hundred strong to eliminate any threat," Jolan said. "We were expecting an army. What we found were simple farmers, too naive to understand the consequences they faced for daring to defy the Ori…"
"The Sodan are proud warriors," Haikon picked up from where Jolan left off. "We do not kill innocent people."
Mitchell was relieved to learn about that change of heart. A hell of a lot relieved. "So, you didn't follow through." He stated.
"We left them unharmed," Jolan nodded. "But before returning here, we had to put all doubts to rest, so we travelled to another world, one rumoured to have refused the Ori. The entire civilization was decimated by a mysterious plague. There was no one left."
"Yeah, that's what they do," Mitchell said soberly, thinking back to the situation back at home. "In fact, they're doing it to my world right now, as we speak. And it'll probably happen here when the Prior gets back and finds out you didn't obey his orders."
Haikon sighed. "How can we resist such a powerful enemy?
Well, that was the whole point of the mission, wasn't it? Mitchell decided to be honest before he filled them in on the plan.
"I'm going to tell you, but you're probably not going to like it."