Breathless, Ford scrambled back to his feet, pulling Teyla after him. “Thank you, sir!”
Lowering the weapon, arms almost numb from the recoil, Sheppard was already moving. “Let’s not make a habit of this!” he called over his shoulder.
Ford just grinned his answer as he and Teyla fell in behind Sheppard and they sprinted back to the clearing. Sheppard’s lungs were on fire by the time they made it to the ship, Ford was breathing hard, but Teyla looked like she’d just taken a walk in the park as she slowed, staring at the Jumper in astonishment. He wondered what she’d make of a Black Hawk.
“This is one of the Ancestors’ ships,” she breathed softly. “I’ve seen them in the drawings.” She turned to him, eyes wide. “Does that mean…?”
“No,” he answered shortly. “We’re just like you.” Only we’re in way over our heads, way over our heads…
“Incoming!” Stackhouse yelled. A Wraith dart was bearing down on them, making an attack run.
“Get into the ship!” Sheppard yelled, all-but pushing Teyla ahead of him. They needed to be in the air. Now! He pushed past the frightened passengers and flung himself into the pilot’s seat. “Okay,” he growled at the controls. “Now what am I thinking?”
Stealth mode. Stealth mode. Stealth mode…
He saw the flicker over the window as he brought the ship into the air and watched the Wraith dart zip past, bank and turn for another pass. It had lost them. For the first time in forever, Sheppard allowed himself a moment of relief. “Everybody alright?” he called, glancing over his shoulder.
They were packed in tight, but thankful to be alive. He could see it in their faces, the mixture of astonishment, shock and gratitude. Only Teyla seemed composed, and she nodded her thanks at him. “We are well enough.”
He gave her a smile, impressed. She was an impressive woman.
She might have smiled back, but Ford pushed past to reach the co-pilot’s seat and broke the moment. Sheppard made a mental note to talk to him about that later, but for now he was pretty happy to have someone up front with him. The kid sank into the chair and let out a deep breath. “I hope that was the hard part.”
Which sounded distinctly like famous last words. He’d have to talk to him about that too. Later, once they were all safely back home. Well, back to Atlantis which, he guessed, was the same thing now.
By the time the Jumper punched out of the atmosphere and into the darkness of space Sheppard’s breathing had returned to normal, and he’d almost let himself relax. Almost. Then he saw the Stargate. It was beautiful, hanging like a magical ring above the planet below, the sunlight glinting against its surface.
Would have looked even better without the dozen Wraith darts that sat like hissing cobras right in front of it, blocking their escape. Crap. He flung Ford a dry look.
“I don’t think we’ve got to the hard part yet.”
Chapter Ten
The burden of command. It was a cliché, Weir reflected, but one she should have thought about in more depth before agreeing to take this post. The burden of command… Right now, as she sat in her makeshift ready room with this amazing – astonishing – city coming to life around her, all she could think about was Major Sheppard and the five men she’d sent out after the Wraith.
If they died, the responsibility would rest on her shoulders. And they wouldn’t be the last. Every man, woman – and now, child – in the city was her responsibility. Their lives, their welfare, everything rested with her. These were her people, a bizarre little autocracy of which she had been appointed leader. She wasn’t entirely sure this was what she’d signed up for, or, if it was, that she’d actually thought it through. What if they were here for ten years? Twenty years? What if they never got home? She couldn’t act as a de facto government, un-elected and unaccountable. That wasn’t in the job description, that wasn’t—
“We’re starting to get reports from all over the city.” McKay’s voice, bursting with restrained excitement, startled her. She hadn’t even heard him approach. “There’s some pretty interesting stuff. We can only provide power to certain sections, but—”
“I should never have let them go.” Her people, whom she’d placed in harm’s way. She should have kept them safe, kept them where she could see them.
McKay was silent for a moment, readjusting his derailed thoughts. “For what it’s worth,” he said at last, “you made the right decision.” His gaze followed hers to the inactive gate. “Give them time.”
Sure. Why not? She had nothing else to give them, after all.
As blockades went, it was pretty damn effective. A dozen Wraith ships right in front of the Stargate; there was no way they were getting through that without a fight. And John Sheppard wasn’t sure he liked the odds.
From the back of the Jumper he heard movement, and turned to see Teyla come to stand behind the pilot’s seat. She seemed unfazed by the whole adventure, and he found himself pretty struck by her. She’d had a bad day, but you’d never know it to look at her calm and collected features.
“What can we do?” Teyla asked quietly, gazing out at the Stargate. The Wraith darts looked like sharp teeth, or daggers.
Ford shifted nervously. “We’re safe as long as they can’t see us.”
“They don’t have to,” Sheppard pointed out. He hated to be the voice of doom, but facts were facts. “There’s only one way for us to go. The moment we activate the Stargate they can start firing blind, and blow us away on our approach.”
“Then how are we going to—?”
“We’ll have to draw them away from the gate,” Sheppard decided. With barely a touch on the controls the ship began to respond, instinctive as a lover. “We’ll draw them away from the gate, then double back.”
He felt it and saw it at the same time, the subtle flutter that told him the cloak had deactivated. The Wraith saw it at exactly the same moment, all but two breaking formation to come after them as Sheppard punched the controls and banked hard, away from the Stargate.
“Stand by to dial the gate on my command!” The whole plan rested on speed; if the Jumper was faster than the Wraith darts then they were home free. If not… A volley of weapons fire streaked past, coming from behind; a couple hit home and the Jumper bucked hard, the jolt almost knocking Teyla off her feet. Someone was on their tail. Damn it. “D’you see anything like a weapons console?”
No need to ask. God, he loved this ship! Even as he thought it, a single drone – just like the one that had almost blown him out of the sky over Antarctica – flared out of the Jumper and locked onto the Wraith.
“That did it!” Ford yelled in glee as the drone hit home. The Wraith ship exploded in a huge fireball; those things packed one hell of a punch. One down, too many to go.
Sheppard turned the ship back toward the gate, the entire pack on his tail now. Time to disappear! Only they didn’t. Two direct hits and the Jumper lurched hard to the side. Cloak! Go invisible! Stealth mode! Nothing. Crap. He could feel the shields weakening, each impact shaking the Jumper until his teeth rattled. Another hit, and he was almost flung out of his seat. Cursing, he grabbed onto the console. Damn Ancients could invent Stargates, but not seatbelts?
Ford was yelling, bracing himself with one hand against the bulkhead. “Try to go invisible again!”
“I tried, it must be damaged…” Another hit; he could feel the shield shiver, almost fail. “Dial the gate!”
They had to leave, and leave fast.
Without hesitation, Ford dialed home. Almost instantly the Stargate sprang to life, lights racing each other around its rim until they locked in place. There was a moment, a brief hesitation that seemed to hang forever in the void, and then the wormhole exploded out into space. Sheppard had half hoped that the two Wraith ships guarding the gate would be swallowed by the event horizon, but its blue-white fountain stopped a breath away from them; they obviously knew what they were doing. Instead of being consumed, the Wraith darts opened fire.
Sheppard
returned the favor, unleashing another drone before breaking off his approach and cutting left. “Be ready to punch in your code on the next pass,” he told Ford.
The lieutenant dragged the GDO out of his vest pocket. “What’s the range on these things?”
Good question. Shame he didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know, I’ve never used one before!” He started another run at the gate, taking a pounding from the Wraith ships, but holding course. He had to get close enough for the damn thing to work… As he arced up and over the gate he yelled, “Enter your code, now!”
Ford stabbed at the device; he looked like he was saying a prayer.
Pulling back up, Sheppard came around again – this time for the final pass, through a hail of enemy fire. With an adrenaline-fuelled grin he glanced over his shoulder at their startled passengers. “Hang on!”
It was about to get interesting.
It was the quiet that felt wrong. Despite the low-level hum of conversation and machinery, Atlantis seemed too quiet. It was as if everyone were holding their breaths, waiting. From her ready room, Weir could see the Stargate, she could see Grodin in the control room, hunched over computers and talking softly to himself. She could see the soldiers guarding the gate, their eyes like hers drawn inexorably to its immovable presence.
It was possible, she knew, that it would never activate. That Sheppard and his team would never return. It was possible that their enemy might open the gate instead, that the scourge of the Ancients might return to take them. It was possible that—
A glyph on the gate suddenly lit up, then another. And another.
“Off-world activation!” Grodin yelled from the control room.
Weir was moving before he’d said the first word, barreling breathlessly into the control room and almost colliding with McKay as she yelled. “Activate the shield!”
A sheet of energy fizzed over the gate, flaring white as the wormhole engaged.
“Do we have an IDC?” Please let it be Sheppard. Please let it be them…
But Grodin shook his head. “Not yet.”
“It’ll take a few seconds for any signal to reach us.” McKay pushed past her, hovering behind Grodin. “We just have to give them a few—” His finger stabbed at the screen. “Reading Lieutenant Ford’s IDC!”
Yes! “Drop the shield!”
With an electronic hiss it was gone, leaving the blue shimmer of the Stargate naked before them. Weir held her breath, willing Sheppard to step through, or fly through, or—
A blast of weapons fire spat from the Stargate, exploding against the gate room wall with a deafening impact. “Holy—” She ducked behind the console, McKay at her side, looking extremely pale. He opened his mouth to speak, when another blast hit. Sparks flew, filling the air with ozone and smoke, and he dropped to the deck.
“Give them a few more seconds!” Weir yelled, in answer to his unasked questions. They were so close. So close! She wasn’t going to slam the door on them now.
The target was locked, the watery surface of the open gate beckoning him home. There was no way Major John Sheppard was changing course. Enemy fire came from all over, the ship twisted and bucked, but he fought to hold course. Unlike piloting a helicopter, this effort was all mental. No stick to yank, no switches to flick. He was flying with nothing more than goddamn stubborn willpower.
It seemed to be working.
“We’re going too fast!” Ford yelled, but his voice was distant.
“I know!” He vividly remembered O’Neill warning him that the velocity on entering the Stargate matched the velocity on exit.
The gate room was small, but this thing had to have good brakes. Right? But it was too late to worry, the gate was right there, the shields were failing and if they didn’t leave now…
The wormhole had them, stripped them apart at lightning speed, flung them in every direction and once, and spat them out the other end. The gate room appeared in a blur, inertial dampeners cutting the breakneck deceleration as something grabbed them. Some kind of energy field that danced around them; the Ancient equivalent of the wires on a naval carrier.
Behind them the defense shield flared white once, twice, three times. Three Wraith darts that wouldn’t bug anybody ever again. Then, like a breath exhaled in relief, the Stargate shut down. Sheppard glanced over at Ford, who was grinning with exhilaration, and they touched fists. It was the closest thing to a victory dance his exhausted mind and body could contemplate. Behind them, Teyla’s people were staring around in awe, knocked sideways by the ride. He didn’t blame them. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Atlantis,” he said with a smile. “Please wait until the Puddle Jumper comes to a complete stop.”
Ford snorted a quiet laugh at the lame joke, and Sheppard slumped back into his chair as the whine of the engines began to fade. It was quite possible that he was too tired to ever move again, and he wondered idly if they’d let him sleep right here…
They didn’t, of course. He had to endure too many enthusiastic backslaps, a long debrief, and an even longer medical exam before someone – by that stage he was too tired to even care – pointed him in the direction of a small room and a bed. Collapsing, face down, on military-issue blankets, he didn’t even bother to take off his boots. But sleep, so desperately desired, didn’t come straightaway. His mind was too full. Or, perhaps it was his soul…
Sumner was gone, and Sheppard knew the Colonel’s death would haunt him forever. He’d pulled the trigger. Maybe he’d had no choice, but he’d done it anyway. He’d pulled the trigger and the man was dead. An arrogant SOB he might have been, but somewhere he had a mother, or a father, a wife, or a child. Someone who’d never see him again, someone who would mourn him. It wasn’t the first life Sheppard had taken, but it was the first friendly life he’d taken. The first human being who’d looked him in the eye and begged for death.
John Sheppard wasn’t a praying man, but right then he prayed that he’d never see that look again. Not in anyone’s eyes, not ever.
But there were other memories too. He’d seen Teyla shepherding her people away to rest and safety in Atlantis, seen the look of heartfelt thanks in her eyes as she’d smiled at him. He’d seen the kid, Jinto, racing down the stairs and into his father’s arms. He’d seen the utter joy and relief in Halling’s face, seen his tears of happiness.
It was a good end to a bad day. He knew there would be worse days to come, days that didn’t end so well, but his future here was impossible to imagine and there was no point in trying. All he could tell himself was that he’d done the right thing.
And he had. He’d gone after his people, he’d brought most of them home, and those he hadn’t saved he’d freed. Sumner was gone, but he’d gone on his own terms. It was enough. It was enough to let him sleep at night. And really, what more did a guy like him need but a fast ship, a galaxy to explore and a good night’s sleep?
Life, he mused as he drifted off, was about to get interesting.
The party had been her idea. Her first act as leader of this base that hadn’t involved putting people’s lives in danger. They needed to bond, not just the expedition members but the Ethosians too – Teyla’s people. Dr. Elizabeth Weir hadn’t spent her entire career in international relations for nothing. She’d learned the importance of a good party in cementing friendships.
They had food, music, and some kind of Ethosian drink that knocked your socks off. People were laughing, were learning to feel at home, were building bridges that might have to last them a lifetime. It was good, she thought, as she stepped out onto the wide balcony overlooking the endless ocean. It was a good night.
Far above, the sky was lit in Technicolor by what McKay assured her was a nebular. She’d been less concerned with what it was than what it looked like, and it looked amazing. Its beauty seemed to match the grace of Atlantis, all muted colors and ethereal light that reflected off the still waters surrounding them. This place had a splendor that was, quite literally, unearthly, and she couldn’t imagine ever taki
ng it for granted.
Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze from the sky and focused on the two men she had come to see. John Sheppard and Aiden Ford – Sheppard’s protégé, she thought with a smile. They’d done so much, in so short a time. They’d made friends and enemies, and struck a blow for the basic human credo of freedom, fairness, and hope.
It wasn’t a bad start, and it deserved a celebration. She glanced down at the tin cups in her hand with a rueful grin; elegance wasn’t top of their list of priorities. But she didn’t approach immediately; she hung back and let their quiet words drift toward her on the evening breeze.
“I guess this is home now,” Ford was saying, gazing out over the vast city below them.
“For a while,” the Major acknowledged. He sounded thoughtful, almost distracted.
Ford pointed. “I’m thinking of a little place with an ocean view. Out of the way.”
With a smile, Weir drew closer. “Major, Lieutenant,” she said, offering them both a cup of champagne, “Compliments of General O’Neill.”
Sheppard flashed her a wide grin that somehow seemed brittle, and clinked his cup against hers. “Cheers!”
But he downed it in one, and Weir sensed that this didn’t feel like a celebration for him. Drawing closer, she said, “You did good, John.”
He looked away, staring out over the ocean. “I don’t know about that.”
Doubts? Who’d have thought Major Overconfident would have doubts? “There was no way you could have saved Colonel Sumner.”
“Still have to live with it…”
So do I, Weir thought, but she didn’t say anything out loud. That was her burden to carry.
After a moment Sheppard looked at her, shaking his head. “I’ve been thinking you were right. I may have made things much worse.” He sighed. “I didn’t make us many friends.”
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