SGA-15 Brimstone

by Wilson, David Niall

  He sat at the terminal a few moments longer. There was nothing more to be gained from it, but somehow he was reluctant to give up what might be his last access to a computer. It was difficult to turn away and rely on himself — his physical abilities, strength, and possibly his ability to fight, to win the day. He’d saved the day a thousand times, but he’d used his mind. This time it was going to be of little or no use, and it left him feeling naked.

  Finally he pushed away from the console and stood up. He found himself facing the weapons rack, and there, directly in front of him, was the sword he’d seen Teyla use.

  Teyla…

  The sight of the weapon triggered a flood of pain, and he staggered under the weight of it. She was gone. Teyla was dead.

  He hadn’t had a moment to think about it, the terror of his own battle blotting out everything else — his mind had simply shunted the horrible truth to one side while he fought for his life. But now he felt it — felt the dark edges of it, at least. When he got out of Admah — if he got out — he knew it was going to hit like a hammer blow.

  Teyla was gone.

  He swallowed hard against rising grief and blinked his watery eyes. Right now, he had to focus. Distraction meant death, and he hadn’t killed a dragon just to be flambéed alive instead. He returned his attention to the sword. Teyla’s sword. The blade was long, and he saw the symbols of the Ancients on the hilt and scabbard. Without being entirely sure why he did, he grabbed it and belted it around his waist. It was heavy, but somehow it felt good to have it there.

  A sudden sound caught his attention and he froze. He looked around self-consciously, as if someone might have been watching him don the weapon, but there was no one to be seen. Then he heard the sound again. It was a groan of pain, and it came from somewhere on the far side of the dragon’s corpse.

  “Great,” Rodney said. “Just great.”

  He glanced at the door across the room. A few quick paces and he could access it, move into the passage beyond, and be on his way. He stared at it longingly, and then he turned toward the sound with a sigh.

  “Who’s there?” he called. “Who is that?”

  The sound grew louder, but no more coherent. Rodney drew the sword, found the controls that brought it to life, and stepped around the dragon. On the far side he saw the huge carcass of the first Woard, but the sound did not come from the creature. Stepping around its body, he found his answer.

  Teyla lay pinned beneath the weight of the beast she’d slain. She was alive! They’d been dragged from the arena in just about the position they’d fallen, but by some miracle Teyla hadn’t been crushed.

  “Teyla…” He kneeled and touched her shoulder, vision blurring with sudden relief and a wide grin tugging at his lips. “Teyla, wake up.”

  Her eyes cleared and she stared up. “Rodney?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?”

  Teyla stared down at where her right leg was pinned beneath the Woard. “I have been better.” She paused. “I cannot move, but with that creature on my leg I cannot tell how badly I am hurt. There is some pain.”

  Rodney tried briefly to lift the Woard off of her leg, but there was no way. It didn’t move an inch. He stood and drew the sword.

  “This is probably going to be messy,” he said, “but we don’t have a lot of time. Lie very still.”

  Rodney brought the blade to life and Teyla stared.

  “I wish it had done that for me.”

  “You and me both,” Rodney said.

  He laid the edge of the blade against the skin of the Woard and began slicing carefully. Bit by bit he cut it away from Teyla, dragging the flesh off her in bloody chunks.

  “God,” Rodney said. “This thing is disgusting.”

  “Try being trapped beneath it.”

  “No thanks.”

  Rodney made a last cut, sheathed the sword again, and reached down. He grabbed Teyla under her arms and pulled, dragging her a few feet away from the beast.

  “Oh!” Teyla hissed.

  Rodney stopped. “Sorry.”

  Teyla clenched her jaw. “It is definitely broken.”

  Rodney glanced again at the door.

  “We have a very short time to get out of this room, down a long passageway, up several levels and out the front gates to the catch up with Sheppard. Once they open that gate and go through — and it closes — it can’t be opened again to the same location. Can you walk?”

  “No. I am sorry, Rodney. You will have to leave me here, I cannot walk.”

  Rodney’s mind went into overdrive. He knew he couldn’t leave Teyla, but he also knew they didn’t have much time. He glanced back toward the dragon, and there, canted on its side, rested the horse.

  “Hold on,” he said.

  He ran to the fallen creature, grabbed it, and tried to lift. It didn’t budge. He looked around for something to use as a lever and he saw the lance. He grabbed it, dragged it closer, and jammed it under the horse. He tried to pry it up, nothing happened.

  Then his mind started to click. He was still wearing the helmet — it rested easily on his head and he’d hardly noticed it was there — flipped the visor down, and seized the lance by the pommel. It activated. Power rippled up and down the length of it and he jammed it under the horse again. He pictured the creature up on its feet, closed his eyes, and pushed. When he opened his eyes, the horse stood before him, still as a statue. It appeared to be staring at him, but he knew it wasn’t.

  He spun back to Teyla. Working quickly, he found two short sticks — probably some sort of fighting staves — and bound them into a splint on her injured leg with strips of cloth he tore from a ruined banner on the floor. Teyla grunted in pain, but gritted her teeth and kept from crying out.

  “You’re going to have to help me,” he said. “I’m going to keep this lance active — it gives me more strength, but we have to get you up and onto that horse. I’m going to climb on behind you, and we’ll ride it out of here. You ready?”

  “I think you have lost your mind,” Teyla said.

  “Good,” Rodney replied. “Then you and I are about on the same wavelength. Come on.”

  He planted the lance, held out his hand, and gripped Teyla’s arm. She gritted her teeth against the pain, crying out once, but managed to get her good leg beneath her, leaning on the lance.

  “Okay,” Rodney said.

  He slipped closer and got his shoulder under Teyla’s arm. Together they limped and hopped over to the horse.

  “That was the easy part,” Rodney said.

  Teyla stared at the creature.

  “Rodney, are you sure?”

  “I thought the same thing a while ago,” Rodney answered. “The dragon got me past that.”

  Teyla stared at the beast, and then turned back to Rodney. He grinned.

  “I am very impressed, Rodney. I believe Colonel Sheppard would say, ‘I underestimated you’.”

  “I get that a lot,” Rodney said. “Now climb aboard. We have to get going.”

  Teyla nodded. The two of them heaved, and somehow, miraculously, she ended up in front of the saddle. Before anything could go wrong, Rodney swung up behind her and activated their mount. It hummed to life flawlessly, despite the rough treatment it had suffered, and Rodney dropped the visor into place.

  Teyla leaned over the horse’s neck, and Rodney reached over her for the reins.

  “Let’s do this,” he said.

  The horse started forward, and as they reached the exit, the doors swung wide. With a cry, Rodney drove the mechanical steed into the passageway and on up toward the main chamber. No one barred their path.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  The temperature in the arena had grown uncomfortably warm. The heat rose a few degrees every fifteen minutes or so, and the people in the stands had begun to feel the effects. The musky scent of sweat filled the arena and small fights had begun to break out in the audience — the reality of their fate growing sharper as the temperature climbed. Cold drinks
no longer stayed cold for longer than a few minutes, and though — for the moment — they were holding their own, Admah’s environmental controls were working overtime. Normally they hummed quietly and only kicked into higher gear occasionally. Now the fans ran constantly, recirculating the air through increasingly inadequate cooling systems.

  A maintenance crew worked at preparing the arena for the next bout, but their movements were slow and labored. They were slow to cart off the carcass of the fallen wolves, and the woman with the extra arms held them at bay for some time, refusing to give up her spot in the center of the arena. The crowd grew restless. Catcalls and cries for action reverberated from the walls. The cooling systems were pumping at full capacity but the air that sputtered and whistled through the vent system was just marginally cooler than the air in the arena. It was only a matter of time until it failed, and the heat became unbearable.

  Outside the arena, Sheppard and his team moved quickly through the passageway to the main room. They met no resistance, and there were no audible alarms to report their escape. As they moved, the heat worked on them quickly. After only a short distance they were coated in sweat. When they’d last walked those halls the air had been cool and pleasant, but it was beginning to feel stagnant and humid. All of the wonders and luxuries of Admah were failing, and though it was still bearable, it was obvious that it would not be for long.

  The hallway emptied into the main room and the team was greeted by a cooler gust of air. Drinks and pitchers still sat on the tables all over the room, and music played through the speakers in the walls. It was surreal, with the world about to end and the music still playing. “This way,” Sheppard said, leading them on.

  “Wait.” Ronon had stopped and was staring off toward another door.

  Sheppard tried to wipe the sweat from his face. “What?”

  “It’s only a little ways to the rooms where they held us. Our weapons are there, and the rest of our gear.”

  “If they didn’t take them away,” Cumby said. “It’s getting pretty hot in here — we should just go.”

  Ronon frowned. He knew Cumby was right, but he couldn’t stand the thought of losing his weapon. He glanced down at his belt where his gun was conspicuously absent. “I’m going to check, you go on ahead.”

  “We aren’t splitting up,” Sheppard said. “Let’s make this quick.”

  Cumby looked unconvinced, and watched over his shoulder as they hurried down the side passage to where they’d been imprisoned. It was only a short way, but the heat, and uncertainty of their escape plan made it sound like a really bad idea. They reached the door, and Mara quickly opened it for them. Their things were right where the guards had tossed them. Ronon grabbed his gun and strapped it on. Sheppard slipped into his gear, leaving everything heavy behind. Cumby grabbed his equipment belt, but he looked as if he’d just as soon be without the extra weight.

  “Now,” Sheppard said. “If no one has any other little errands they’d like to run, I think we should get out of here. It’s getting pretty hot.”

  “If we want to leave the city, we have to get out into the gardens,” Mara said. “There’s no shade. There’s no water. It’s going to be hot.”

  As they passed the bar in the main chamber, Sheppard paused to liberate several bottles of water. He tossed one to Ronon, and another to Cumby, and they tucked them away.

  “This way.” Mara pointed down a hall to the left.

  Sheppard nodded and swallowed a huge gulp of water. “Let’s move.”

  The echo of raised voices emanated from the long hall behind them. The words were indiscernible but the intent was clear. Saul had discovered their absence, and he was sending pursuit. Sheppard put a finger to his lips and motioned for them to hurry. They slipped out of the main room into the corridor beyond and back down the hall. Overhead, the lights guttered and went out for several beats, then came on again. Admah was dying.

  They were halfway to the elevator when a group of guards burst into the hall behind them, and they were forced to turn and fight.

  “You aren’t going anywhere,” the first guard called. “There isn’t anywhere to go. Come back to the arena and fight — it’s a good way to meet eternity.”

  “We’re getting out of here,” Sheppard replied. “If any of you people had any sense you‘d be following us, not chasing us. You feel how hot it is now? It isn’t going to be instantaneous. You’re going to slow roast, like meat on a spit.”

  “It’s a glorious death.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard all that. Good for you. You’re missing your final entertainment, and we’re not coming back. I guess you have some choices to make.”

  The men advanced, and Ronon, tired of all the talk, drew and fired in one smooth motion. The first man fell, and those behind him ducked up against the wall. Someone returned fire, his shot striking the wall about a foot from Mara’s head. She screamed and ducked behind Ronon and Sheppard.

  Joining Ronon, Sheppard sprayed short bursts into the passage, driving their pursuers back into the main hall.

  “Go!” he yelled.

  They turned and rushed up the stairs, but the heat made the climb difficult. Cumby started to lag behind, and Ronon grabbed him by the arm and dragged him forward.

  “Keep moving,” Ronon growled.

  “I don’t know if I can…”

  “Then you’ll die here,” Ronon said.

  Cumby didn’t reply, but he also didn’t slow down. Ronon kept his grip on the smaller man’s shoulder and propelled him up the stairs. Mara held her own, staying close to Sheppard’s side, and below they heard Saul’s guards gathering. Ronon shoved Cumby up the stairs and spun. He fired twice, and the guards dove for safety. Moments later, the group reached the next level, turned, and bolted down the passageway. One more set of stairs, and they’d reach the surface.

  “They don’t seem to be following,” Cumby said, glancing over his shoulder.

  “They probably lost interest,” Sheppard said. “Whether they catch us or not, what is Saul going to do? What does it matter? I think it’s finally sinking in that they’re all going to die, and it wasn’t even their choice.”

  They continued on at a slightly slower pace, letting Cumby catch his wind.

  “Here’s the elevator,” Mara said. “It’s faster than the stairs.”

  Sheppard glanced up at the flickering lights and shook his head. “We can’t trust it. The power could go at any time. The closer the city comes to that sun, the fewer systems will remain on line.”

  He moved forward to the stairs leading to the surface and started up. Mara followed, and Ronon brought up the rear, urging Cumby on as the climb grew longer and harder. The closer they got to the surface, the higher the temperature rose.

  “We don’t have much time,” Sheppard said. “It has to be over a hundred degrees already.”

  “It will be worse outside,” Mara said. “The city gives us protection from the sun.”

  “Thanks for the cheerful thoughts,” Cumby grumbled. He stumbled up the last few steps and bent over, hands on his thighs and breathing heavily.

  “Come on,” Ronon said. “You can rest when we get back. I’ll buy you a beer.”

  Cumby scowled at the big man.

  They passed through the main control center, where Rodney had first accessed the city’s systems. After the opulence below, the stark and abandoned looking spaces seemed alien and impossible. It was easy to see how the illusion had fooled the Wraith for so many years. It was also depressing. They stumbled out into the gardens and down the path. The heat slammed into them like a hammer blow as they made their way down the steps. The air was heavy and dry, and everything was far too bright. There was no sign of pursuit and after only a little ways in the overwhelming heat it was all they could do to focus on the ground ahead, and keep their feet in motion.

  “It’s not too much farther,” Sheppard said.

  He passed around the bottles of water he’d grabbed. They all drank some, and it helped a litt
le. There wasn’t much shade between the city and the gate. Grim faced and fighting their discomfort, they moved on.

  Behind them, cries rose again, but they ignored the sound. They needed their strength to reach the gate, and whoever was behind them would fare no better. What it had come down to was a race, and they needed desperately to win.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  The temperature had climbed steadily as they moved closer to the surface but here, at the mercy of a huge and blazing sun, the temperature was a good thirty degrees higher than it had been down in the arena. Their bodies had adjusted to the slow increase in temperature but the blast that had struck them when they moved into the open was nearly unbearable.

  They paused in the shade of one of the only trees beyond the garden, wishing desperately that it still had leaves, or more branches. They gulped the water as if they’d never see another drop. It seemed to pass right through them, gone as sweat as soon as the water was drunk. Sheppard drew in a deep breath and looked at Mara.

  She swiped at her forehead with one arm. Her face was streaked with dirt and sweat and her lips were cracked from the heat, but still she was pretty. “It’s not much further,” she sighed. “Perhaps another quarter of a mile.”

  “I know.” Sheppard nodded in the direction of the gate, but the last thing he wanted to do was leave the shade of that tree. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Ronon took Cumby’s arm again and helped him lever himself away from the tree. Ronon was used to hardship but this was nearly more than even he could bear. He was a big man, and the heat hit him hard.