45: City on Fire
Flying in over the Kelownan capital, the difference in the cityscape between John's departure from it this morning and their arrival at this evening hour was substantial. Fires were burning from multiple points across the urban landscape, with entire buildings having been engulfed in searing yellow flames. Thick columns of black smoke wafted on high, and the flames were a stark flickering orange against the darkening night. Some of the streets towards the more affluent areas were full of people, masses of which were either intent on fleeing or were simply making the most of the disorder to loot and plunder as much as they could. And, as the shuttle drifted over the central districts, weapons fire rang out that saw bullets zipping by the shuttle, each sounding off with a distinct crack. The weapons fire was sporadic and poorly aimed, and the shuttle was simply too fast and nimble for any untrained gunner down below to land a good hit. The few shots that did strike the hull simply glanced off of the armour, each of these hits being accompanied by a sharp ding within the shuttle itself.
Once the shooting started getting a little more intense, John closed the rear ramp and settled back into his seat. The pilot had enough sense to increase their altitude, although he would naturally have to come back down once they got close enough to the embassy. There was no telling what awaited them at that embassy, but John suspected that the crowds down below would be even more volatile the nearer to the perceived source of the 'alien influence' they came.
"It's anarchy down there," John said, as he sat down. Daniel looked his way, having been lost in his own thoughts for most of the flight. The shuttle had made good time and had this been Earth it would be about eight o'clock in the evening. The day and night cycle on Langara was a little different, as was to be expected, but that difference was relatively minor. Sometimes, John had to remind himself that he was on an alien planet and not in some far-flung corner of the Earth.
"That's probably Kavul's plan," Daniel said. "He's been manipulated, thinks he going to elevate the Langarans to a higher plane, to immortality. The plague, to him, is simply to weed out those too weak for this brave new Langara. But he's just a pawn and he doesn't know it."
It was Jonas who spoke up then, seated just to Daniel's left. He had hardly said a word since he had boarded the shuttle. Now, his voice was filled with a deep frustration, even anger, yet it was the kind of anger upon which he kept a careful lid.
"He probably knows he's being used," Jonas stated. "Deep down, he would know. He's not a stupid man. Thing is, he sees this as a means to an end. If he can get his way, tear down the system he sees as corrupt and bring the people over to his side, then he'll do it. If that means making a deal with the Devil, he'll do that without hesitation. And then, when he has his way, he'll try and double-cross the Devil. That's what he'd try to do, anyway. I think he doesn't fully understand what he's become involved with. He understands just enough, but not the full picture." He paused, before he regarded the others with a somewhat more thoughtful look. "Then again, none of us seem to understand the full picture here. We're still very much in the dark when it comes to this enemy. The Heralds, the Watchers, the rift we saw under that mountain; what is it all about, really?"
"The Illuminated One," Daniel said, although he did not direct this to anyone in particular. John cocked an eyebrow, curious. Aithris, seated just on John's right, had turned his head upon hearing this term. Daniel, having been somewhat lost in his own thoughts then, looked over the others and gave them a light shrug.
"I mean, that's what I'm hearing. The Illuminated One, the Enlightened One, something like that. The 'master' these entities all serve. I'm reminded of the old stories from the Judeo-Christian mythologies, that of Lucifer being cast from Heaven. The Morning Star. The Light Bringer. I mean, we've all been thinking it, haven't we?" He had noticed the questioning looks the others were giving him, at the mention of the Devil. "Deep down, we've been thinking it. That we're not dealing with some conventional alien force. That maybe, and it sounds crazy but I know Rodney's convinced of it, that maybe we're up against the Devil himself. Or the entity that inspired all the stories about that Devil. I mean, Rodney thinks as much and that says a lot, since Rodney always used to be an atheist. And Jonas, you know what you saw through that gateway. It looked like…"
"Hell," Jonas finished. "Well, not necessarily fire and brimstone. Just barren, hot and dry."
"Another dimension," Daniel added. "We're all familiar with parallel universes, but maybe this is something else. This is a whole other realm. The denizens of which are trying to break into our own. Does that sound crazy?"
He had a point: they had all been thinking this. At least, John and Jonas and Natalia had been. Aithris, being a Nomad, had a slightly different view on the whole thing. His people had their ancient stories, their tales of gods and goddesses and angels and demons fighting one another, or the Nomad versions thereof. In the end, these stories had to have come from somewhere, that at the heart of every legend there was a grain of truth. Whatever these Void Demons followed may very well be the origin of such legends, specifically those of the fallen angel now in charge of a barren, inhospitable realm with a legion of demons at his disposal.
"We're up against the Devil," John said. "Except, it might not actually be the Devil but something close to it. That I can work with, believe it or not. Because at the end of the day, he's just another evil alien bastard. And we've got a very good track record of putting a stop to those."
"If Rodney believes it, I can guess I can too." Daniel seemed surprisingly accepting of it all. Before anyone else could add anything further, the makalvari pilot at the front-end of the craft spoke up:
"We're approaching the embassy now," he announced.
John rose from his seat and moved down the passenger section's central aisle. He stepped into the cockpit, looking through the canopy to the buildings below. The familiar sight of the embassy was just ahead, a squat compound on a mostly cleared tract of land. There were some buildings around it, after the cleared lot ended, including a partially constructed tenement block at one end. Remnants of the structures that had previously been on that lot still remained, little more than the odd brick column jutting out from amongst the mass of long grass, wild weeds and general refuse. Old, rusted hulks of cars were scattered about, their wheels gone and their insides long since stripped bare. The crater from the car bomb that had attempted charging the front gate of the compound took up a sizeable portion of the forward clearing now, appearing as a large rounded and deep hole of churned up earth. Even from this distance, John could see the makalvari soldiers manning the walls. And there were people, Kelownan citizens of all sorts, amassing at the roads that worked around the large strip of land. Fires burned from barricades and oil drums amongst the crowds, and as the shuttle shot overhead, John saw straight away more than a few vehicles in the mix that were brimming with armed men. Insurgents, partisans, rebels; whatever one wanted to call them, they did not appear at all friendly.
"Get us behind those walls, fast," John told the pilot. The makalvari pilot, a young Lieutenant who had hoped for an uneventful assignment on the far-flung human world of Langara, gave the human Colonel a nod. He worked the controls gently, with a degree of finesse that only came from much experience and practice. The throttle was pushed forwards and the engines picked up, sending the shuttle hurtling along at a greater pace than before.
The weapons fire erupted from down below, as expected. This time, they were close enough to the ground for the hits to be more frequent. Pings sounded across the hull as bullets slammed home, most simply flattening themselves and ricocheting off of the armoured hull. The noise within the shuttle became irritating very quickly, the flurry of loud dongs and clanks filling John's ears. Aithris winced, his own ears a little more sensitive than those on a human.
The compound was coming up fast. The soldiers along the front walls had readied their weapons, preparing to offer the shuttle any cover fire necessary. Suddenly, a heavy machine gun on the ground opened up, and its noise was all the more thumping than any of the small arms currently being used to shoot their way. The rounds hit harder, slamming into the hull. John put his hands to the empty chair in front of him, a means to steady himself as the shuttle rattled around them.
"Just a little further…" The pilot muttered. As if on cue, something heavier struck the rear of the shuttle and sent the whole thing lurching violently.
Some form of anti-tank weapon had been used, and John had no idea whether it had been guided or simply dumb fired. If the latter, then the person wielding that launcher had some incredible aim. Regardless, the effect of the hit was the pressing concern here. Part of the rear ramp had been torn away, and smoke plumed from one engine pod, the entire shuttle having since plunged into a spin. The pilot fought against it, trying to pull the other way, all while clenching his beak-like snout tightly closed whilst his eyes widened noticeably. The others in the passenger section behind him were trying to steady themselves, and even as the uncontrolled spin began to slow, they were simply too close to ground level to provide the pilot the time needed to correct their fall.
They hit the ground on the clearing, hard. John was thrown off of his feet by the impact. He hit the nearest wall, pain lancing through his left side, before he ended up on the floor. The others, strapped in, were shaken about under their harnesses as the shuttle slammed nose-first into the sandy earth of the clearing. The canopy visibly cracked and dirt was flung across it. The nose of the shuttle seemed to crumple on impact. Sparks erupted from the control console, displays winked out and a high-pitched beeping filled the cockpit as a systems alarm began to sound. And then, following the chaos of what had been only a handful of seconds, there came an uneasy quiet.
At least, the inside of the shuttle was quiet. Outside, people were cheering at seeing the downed shuttle. John could dimly hear them as he came out of his dazed state, aware that someone was lifting him up from under the arms. He looked up, seeing Aithris' concerned blue-toned features. He was dragging him down the middle of the passenger section and towards the now wide-open rear ramp. The cool night air wafted in, as did the noise of the gathering crowds around the clearing in which the embassy was situated. He could smell burning metal, alongside something like ozone, brought on by whatever power source the shuttle had been using. They had landed some ways to the compound's western flank. That put a good thirty metres of open ground between them and the compound's west entrance. Nearby, amongst the dirt and the rubble from whatever building had been here before the embassy's construction, the rest of the shuttle's passengers had gathered. They kept low, using the uneven ground and the long grass and rubble as cover.
"Sir?" It was Elsie. She stepped into view on his left, her one intact eye watching him with worry. Aithris looked down, noticing then that John was awake.
"Colonel, are you all right?" Aithris slowly released him, allowing John to sit up on his own.
"I'm a little sore," John replied. His left side ached, as did his head, but otherwise he seemed to be in one piece. Nothing was broken, from what he could determine. He looked around at the others. The makalvari pilot was being put upon the stretcher that Elsie had been in until recently. Both Sha'pek and Hur'par were tending to him, and from what John could see the poor pilot's legs had been shredded in the crash, leaving a bloody tangle of torn flesh and clothes.
"What about the others?" John looked to Aithris, who gave a small frown.
"Jonas took a bump to the head, like you. The pilot's legs are badly torn up, but otherwise we're all good."
Jonas was nearby, a bandage about his forehead. He was rubbing at the bruise, wincing at the throbbing pain it brought. At the walls of the embassy, more makalvari soldiers had appeared. John watched as the western gate, a smaller affair than the main one, swung open. About four makalvari soldiers armed with magnetic rail rifles filed out, staggering their formation as they moved. From the distance, John could hear cheers and agitated cries. Another heavy machine gun fired, although it seemed to be directed elsewhere. The gunfire thumped clear in the night, like the sounds of a distant and violent storm.
"All right, everybody up. We have to move." Major Kav'rak was headed for the gate and the oncoming soldiers, and he motioned for the others to follow. They could waste no time out here, not with the area brimming with increasingly disgruntled citizens. John started after Kav'rak, with the rest of the team following. Sha'pek and Hur'par carried the stretcher upon which the pilot lay writhing, mostly dazed and presumably falling into a state of shock in response to the severity of his injuries. The makalvari soldiers coming out of the compound moved in on both sides of the group, keeping watch on the southern and northern approaches where the bulk of the crowds had formed.
None of those people, be they civilian or insurgent, dared to get too close. They remained at either end of the clearing, secure in their numbers. And as none fired at the embassy, none of those makalvari positioned along the walls fired their way. At such distances, the makalvari rail rifles would be accurate and devastating. Nonetheless, the conventional ballistic small arms so common among the Kelownans would be just as deadly. The only thing keeping the embassy secure were its high walls, yet there was only so much sandstone bricks and reinforced concrete could do against a numerically superior force.
John felt some small measure of relief once he entered the grounds of the compound. Ambassador Voro'tuk was waiting for the team, his yellow eyes set in a scowl that suggested he was only slightly pleased to see them all return safely. Kav'rak was the first one the Ambassador approached. At the same time, Sha'pek and Hur'par hurried the wounded pilot to the main building for treatment in the infirmary. Elsie followed, assisted by Natalia. Her bandages needed changing and her wounds needed proper treatment.
John had been hoping for a rest. At the very least, a shower would have been good. However, as he neared the Ambassador and Kav'rak, he got the distinct impression that neither of those things would be on the cards. Behind him, the last of the team filed into the compound and the soldiers came charging back in, shutting the gate and barricading it with sandbags that had been piled up next to it.
Another of the soldiers moved to a small, grey metal cylinder that was erected upon three short metal legs. It glowed with a bright yellow energy from within. A long black cable snaked from its base towards a nearby console, and here the soldier tapped in a few brief commands. A blue force-field erected itself over the gate and part of the surrounding wall, further fortifying that entrance against a potential enemy onslaught. The shield generator emanated a low hum, and John wondered how reliable such a device would be if the trouble really did start.
The group made their way for the operations centre within the embassy. The makalvari staff officers manning the stations within were moving frantically, talking hurriedly as they relayed information. There was an added sense of urgency to the whole place that had been lacking previously, and John found himself staring at the main display upon the wall ahead. Before, when he had been here last, the screen had offered a satellite view of Kelowna. Now, it showed something very much in the opposite direction, that is an expanse of stars against the black of space. And moving silently across it, a sleek ovular shape, toned a gunmetal grey with a stark purple stripe on its underbelly. A spacecraft of some kind, a model that John was unfamiliar with.
Kav'rak stopped a few paces ahead of him, seeing it on the screen before he turned to the Ambassador.
"That's one of ours," Kav'rak stated.
Ambassador Voro'tuk nodded his head, yet his expression remained grave.
"It is," he said. "We were able to identify the vessel. It's under the command of Brigade Leader Tav'kar." Upon hearing the name, Kav'rak scowled. Any hope of rescue seemed to leave him then, and John sensed the change in the Major's mood right away. Whoever this 'Tav'kar' was, he must not have been a friend of Kav'rak's.
"So, have we contacted them?" Kav'rak suspected that even if they got through, Tav'kar was not likely to reply.
"We've tried." Voro'tuk's voice was grim. "We're getting a lot of interference. They aren't likely to hear us." As he said this, the image on the screen became hazy, laced with lines of white noise. It wavered, wobbled and, with one of the technicians working hard to keep it up, seemed to fade in and out of clarity.
"It's only getting worse," Voro'tuk said.
"Interference?" Kav'rak's frown softened slightly. "From where?"
"An atmospheric disturbance some distance north, in the highlands," Voro'tuk replied, and he turned to face Kav'rak. John remained nearby, loitering. Daniel and Jonas joined him, whilst Natalia assisted Elsie in getting to the infirmary. Aithris had sat himself down on a vacant chair nearby, content to take the opportunity to rest.
"Can we get a shot of it?" Kav'rak asked. Voro'tuk looked to the technician manning the console nearby, giving him a small nod. The technician keyed in a few commands, bringing up the satellite feed directed towards Kelowna. Even from the high-altitude image that came up at that moment, it was immediately apparent that the unnatural 'red storm' was spreading. For a moment, an uneasy silence fell across the group as they all looked upon the shimmering, swirling red mass of light and black clouds that was spreading ever so gradually outwards. Simply looking at it through the increasingly static-lined satellite feed was enough to spark a deep sense of unease within John, and no doubt the others were feeling much the same.
"A beachhead," Aithris said suddenly, breaking the quiet. The others all turned to him then, seeking further explanation. "That could be what this is. An opening to the enemy's realm. A means for them to pour more of their own through onto this world."
"They had a gateway for that, under the mountain," Daniel explained. "It got damaged. Now, well…"
"Well, it needs to be stopped," John interrupted. "There has to be a way to close it." He looked about at the others, but he saw no fresh ideas come forth. Indeed, even Daniel and Jonas appeared uncertain. They were faced with something unknown here, operating on a level that very few understood. Rodney McKay seemed to be their one expert on whatever exotic energies these monsters operated with, and he was unfortunately still at stargate command.
"Langara is a testing ground for them," Daniel said. "The plague is something they devised, utilising the research of a disgraced geneticist. And Kavul and his people, they're being manipulated."
"Well, we can't do much from here," Voro'tuk stated. "We're underequipped enough as it is. Those shield generators aren't big enough to protect the whole compound. If those people out there decide to attack us, and I can almost guarantee they will, we're going to be in trouble."
"You haven't got any other way out of here?" John asked him. Voro'tuk turned to him, seemed to mull it over for a moment and then slowly shook his head. Something told John that the Ambassador was not being one-hundred percent honest, but he kept quiet on that suspicion for now. One problem at a time, or so John figured was best. The makalvari would have no doubt put together this place in such a way as to avoid potentially getting trapped here.
The young makalvari officer manning the communications station suddenly perked up then. He looked towards Kav'rak and the Ambassador, a look of unease having crossed his features. From his head, he pulled away his headset, before he held it up.
"Major, Ambassador, I'm getting a call," he said. They, and the others in the operations centre, all looked to the communications officer. "It's from that man again, sir. Gorum Kavul."
Kav'rak frowned, before he snatched up the headset and held it to one ear.
"Gorum Kavul?" He said aloud. The communications officer tapped a command into his terminal, putting the incoming call through the speakers placed about the room. Kavul's voice sounded through loud and clear, and John noticed Jonas' expression sour upon hearing it.
"Yes, that's correct." A brief pause, then: "And to whom am I speaking?"
"Major Kav'rak of the Republic of Makvar," Kav'rak said. "Have you called to gloat, you bastard?"
"I'm not one to gloat, my feathered friend." Kavul sounded upbeat, filled with confidence now that he had finally gotten his way. After all, the capital city had more or less fallen into his hands and the resident government was either dead or had simply been driven out. If things kept up the way they were, all-out war would be the next step. That is, if that unnatural red storm up north did not put an end to things first. John wondered what might become of the Kelownan stockpiles of naquadria bombs, as such weapons could hardly be trusted in the hands of a man such as Gorum Kavul. Then again, they could hardly be trusted in the hands of just about anyone else for that matter.
"I called because I wish to talk. I want to speak with Jonas Quinn." Kav'rak looked almost insulted that the man was brushing him off, and his yellow eyes narrowed in contempt.
"What if I told you he had died in the shuttle crash?"
"If you told me as much, I would call you a liar." Kavul sounded unbearably smug, and John could easily imagine the smile he was wearing on the other end of the line. "You must think we Langarans are a backwards bunch. Maybe we are, in some ways, but we're not stupid. I was watching who came out of that crash with my binoculars. I saw Jonas, just as I saw you. And to be honest, I'm actually pleased Jonas made it out of that mountain facility alive and well. I was fully expecting you all to fall into the grasp of the Watcher angel."
Jonas took a few steps forward and put out a hand towards Kav'rak. A silent request for the headset. With a reluctant sigh, Kav'rak handed it to him. Jonas, putting the receiver to his ear, spoke in even tones.
"Gorum, it's me. Jonas."
"Ah, Jonas my boy, how have you been?" Now Kavul sounded jovial, irritatingly so. "Did you find what you were looking for inside that mountain?"
"I found a slaughterhouse, if that's what you mean." Jonas' eyes widened slightly, emotions roiling through him when he recalled what he had seen, the sights of those twisted, mutated bodies and the stench of it all still so very vivid in his mind's eye. "That thing is no angel, Gorum. It's a monster, a being of energy from another dimension. Another plane of existence. And we drove it right back to the hell it crawled out of."
"Did you now?" Gorum did not sound at all disappointed. "Why, there are more of them from where that one came from. In the end, only the strongest of us will remain. We will be elevated, Jonas, and we shall become immortal. No longer will we be forced to debase ourselves before the likes of the Earthers and the birds."
"You're wrong, Gorum. You're being manipulated by forces you don't understand."
Suddenly, Gorum snapped: his voice came through raised, imbued with anger, and even Jonas looked somewhat startled as he held the headset a good inch away from his ear.
"Don't you tell me what I don't understand, boy. Because I understand a hell of a lot more than you ever did. You were never willing to make the hard decisions, to do what needed to be done. When we were fighting the Ori together, we had a chance to rebuild Kelowna into something better. To drive out the corruption. Instead, you went ahead, you and your democracy-loving friends, and you just reinstated the same tired old system, complete with some of the same useless, corrupt bureaucrats from before the occupation. You didn't go far enough, Jonas. Now I, I am going as far as necessary to improve this world, to bring the people of Langara into a better future."
"I tried to unite us," Jonas countered. On the other end of the call, Gorum's voice returned to its usual volume, albeit with a much firmer edge to it:
"And how did that work out, Jonas? How long was it before the whole system fell back on its old ways? You wanted a united Langara, and that is such a noble thing to work towards but in the end, you are denying our very nature. Your friends from Earth would understand. You spent enough time there, and you were always so quick to regale us with tales of your time amongst that world's people. Human nature cannot be denied, and in this case it ensured we all fractured along the same lines that existed before the Ori made claim to this world."
The communications officer looked up then, motioning to Kav'rak. John noticed this, and he took a few steps closer as to better hear the quieter exchange the pair shared.
"Sir, the sentries are reporting movement on the northern approach," the communications officer said. "It looks like the enemy is gathering for an attack. Dozens of armed insurgents, as well as multiple vehicles."
"Bastard's going to hit us head-on," John remarked. Kav'rak turned to him, his expression grim. Jonas heard all this, and when he spoke next his voice was imbued with something almost pleading. He was still trying to reason with the man. If John had been in his place, he would have given up reasoning with that lunatic a long time ago.
"Gorum, listen to me. You're being used. This whole thing, with the Watcher and the facility and the plague, it's all been part of something more, something beyond your understanding. Out there, over the highlands, is a storm the likes of which has never been seen before here on Langara. I don't know what it means, what it's even capable of but I do know that it's a precursor to something far more devastating. The Watcher was no angel, it was a demon, and it's going to send more of its kind right here to Langara. You want immortality? Because what that monster offered was servitude, and a transformation into something inhuman. You and your followers will be made into monsters, and you will lose any semblance of your former selves in the process."
The line had gone dead. Gorum Kavul had hung up the phone. Jonas remained standing where he was a moment more, headset to his ear. And then, with a sudden and angered shout, he threw the headset across the room where it broke into several pieces.
"You're going to have to pay for a new one of those, you know," Voro'tuk stated, flatly.
Jonas was in no mood to pay the Ambassador any attention. He simply stormed out of the operations centre and Daniel, seeing the dismay on his friend's face, started after him. For another moment, a quiet fell upon the room. The main display shifted to a view of the compound's northern approach. And then that view was split into two, with a feed from the southern wall filling up half of the screen. Both showed figures moving low through the low grass and rubble of the empty lots around the compound.
"They're going to hit us." John had expected as much as soon as he had seen the crowds gathering in the streets. It had been practically guaranteed when the shuttle had gone down. This attack was hardly surprising, yet seeing the scores of armed rebels headed their way still brought with it some level of shock.
"We'll need all hands on deck for this one," Kav'rak barked, falling into his battlefield commander persona immediately. "That includes your team, Colonel. Even the one-eyed Lieutenant should be able to help."
"Elsie Rhodes."
"What?"
"She has a name, Major. Lieutenant Elsie Rhodes." Now John was beginning to remember why he did not much like Kav'rak. For now, however, they would have to cooperate. After all, a common enemy was making itself known and they were vastly outnumbered.
"I'll attempt to make contact with our ship in orbit," Kav'rak said. "Everyone else, take what you need from the armoury. Make sure those rebels don't get through the walls." He directed his gaze across the room, to where Captain Sha'pek and Sergeant Hur'par were standing. "Captain, go out there and see to the troops."
"Yes, Major." Sha'pek gave the Major a nod, before he gestured for Hur'par to follow. The pair hurried out, ready to meet this latest challenge head-on. John looked to Aithris, and the Nomad seemed to get the hint as he rose from his seat and picked up the heavy magnetic rail rifle he had left leaning against the wall next to him.
"It would appear a good night's sleep is no longer on the cards," the Nomad commented. Indeed, John's body felt as if it was nothing more than aches and pains. He supposed he would simply have to grit his teeth and bear it.
"You go find Daniel and Jonas," John instructed him. "I'll see if I can find Sergeant Tarasovna and Lieutenant Rhodes."
Aithris turned to leave, but John stepped forwards and put a hand to his shoulder. The Nomad paused, turning his head.
"And Aithris, I don't know about you but I'm really starting to regret having come to Langara."