Nightfall

Chapter Five

Ronon kept close to Teyla, following her intently as she moved down the steely corridor. She held out one hand, now and then brushing her fingertips over the walls. There was no sound in the chamber other than their footsteps and the faint hum of hidden systems, but the Athosian woman walked with her head cocked, as if she were listening to something that only she could hear.

Ronon’s hands flexed, and he fought the urge to let them contract into fists. It was hard for him to resist the churning anger inside him at the thought of the Wraith; the directionless, all-consuming hate he had for the alien predator race surged up from deep inside him, a ready and all-too-familiar heat that sang in his blood. The hate he had for the creatures that had destroyed his precious Sateda was as potent and pure now as it had been on the day they had made him a Runner.

“Not far,” Teyla said quietly. “Yes, several of them. Quite close.” She slowed to a halt outside a metallic door. “Here.”

He pushed her out of the way and took the glass egg from her hand. “Let’s take a look.” Ronon waved it at the wall and the door obediently retracted.

The smell of them hit his nostrils; the coppery scent of alien sweat and the stench of rotting meat. Four of them sat clustered around a fifth on the floor at the back of the cell; aside from an extra sleeping pallet, the holding chamber was the duplicate of the one Ronon and Teyla had escaped from. Each of the Wraiths turned as one toward the intruders, eyes dull with hunger and hate.

One of them, a warrior by the look of his clan sigils, sprang up and came at them. Ronon stepped forward with the ellipse in his hand, brandishing it like a weapon. “Back off!” he snapped, but part of him was daring the alien to keep coming, willing it to give him an excuse to fight.

The Wraith warrior halted, snarling at the device; clearly he knew the power of the paralysis field it could emit, unaware that Ronon couldn’t use it. One of the other Wraith spat something in their hissing language, drawing the warrior’s attention for a moment.

“They’ve been here for some time,” Teyla said thickly, her brow furrowing. “Several months. They’re starving.”

The Wraith that lay on the deck, that the others crowded around, was if anything even more sallow and skeletal than the rest of them. It’s greenish-white flesh hung off its bones, and it blinked slowly, breathing hard. With a grimace, Ronon realized that the aliens had been feeding off one of their own, perhaps off of each other in small amounts to keep themselves alive. “My heart bleeds,” he growled.

“That…” replied the warrior, “could be arranged.” It flexed its hand, showing the feeding maw in its palm.

“Go ahead,” Dex snapped back. “Try it.” His fingers tightened around the glassy egg and for a moment all he could think about was using it to beat the alien’s skull in.

The Wraith turned it’s baleful gaze toward Teyla. “You.” He cocked his head, mimicking her manner out in the corridor. “You are touched by us. Yes.” It made a gurgling sound that might have been a chuckle. “A rare thing in this part of space.” His eyes flicked to Ronon. “But not here to free us, no?”

“We’re not those fools who worship you, if that’s what you’re hoping for,” Ronon told him. “We’re a long, long way from that.”

“A pity.”

Teyla shuddered visibly. The taint of Wraith DNA in her body, the strange x-factor that gave her insight into the psychic bonds of the alien hives, was a two-way street. Ronon realized that the warrior was pushing at her mind, trying to coerce her. She gasped and shot the creature a lethal glare. “Get out of my thoughts.”

“As you wish.” The alien opened its hands and stepped back. “I only wished to know you.”

“I saw a moment of his memories.” She glanced at Ronon. “Those humanoids took them captive,” she explained. “They were recovered from a sealed section of wreckage, from one of the scoutships destroyed by the Aegis.”

“We are prisoners, just as you are,” said the Wraith.

“We’re not prisoners,” Ronon retorted.

“We have attempted escape just as you do now, and we failed as you will fail…” The alien chuckled again, and the sound was echoed by his comrades. “You are from the city of the Ancients, yes? Atlantis? Our clan knows of you. And if you are here, then the Aegis has taken you as it took us. Any freedom you think you have is an illusion!”

“Where are we?” Teyla demanded, glaring at the Wraith. “Where is this place?”

“I will tell you if you let us free.”

Ronon snorted. “Just open the door for a pack of hungry Wraiths? I don’t think so.”

The warrior gave an exaggerated nod. “Just me, then. I will help you escape if you free me.”

“Didn’t you say your escape attempt failed?” noted Teyla.

“I’m sure with humans as resourceful as you, that would not happen again.” The Wraith’s words were oily and condescending.

Teyla’s head snapped up and she shot a look out the open hatch, into the corridor beyond. “I hear something…”

Ronon heard it too; the metallic whisper of another door opening.

“The giants…” whispered Teyla. A group of the towering, silent humanoids were swarming up the corridor toward them.

“They come,” spat the Wraith. “Our captors.” It came forward again. “Quickly. You must release me!” There was an edge of desperation and terror in the warrior’s voice that Ronon had rarely heard in their kind. He had only a moment to register it before the Wraith dived clumsily at him, clawed fingers grabbing for the glass device.

The Satedan reacted with a short, sharp punch that caught the alien square in the face. He felt bone and cartilage fracture beneath his knuckles and the Wraith rocked backwards, a fan of dark, greasy blood issuing from its nostrils. “I don’t think so,” he grunted. “We’re out of here.”

Before the other prisoners could come after them, Ronon and Teyla were stepping through the hatchway, closing it behind them. The other Wraith scrambled toward the moving door, falling over each other in their wild struggle to reach it.

Teyla broke into a sprint and Ronon gave chase, angry at running from a fight, but just as angry at himself for the cold certainty of defeat that would come if he didn’t flee.

There was a clatter of claws on metal as the cell door slammed shut, and a final shout from within. “You fools,” spat the Wraith warrior, “you can’t escape this place!”

The building was an odd collection of wood-framed huts with packed earth walls, and oval woven pods similar to the ones Sheppard had seen in the settlement. The whole thing was raised up slightly on shallow stilts from the mud plain where it sat. A low-lying lake of dirty brown water spilled away from it toward the grasslands, thin and spindly trees issuing up from the shore toward the blazing sky. On the far side of the disused farm, a long covered porch ended in a jetty where tall A-frames creaked in the hot breeze; old, neglected sheets of netting hung from them like twists of blackened lace.

“Looks like a fishing hut, or something, only bigger.” The colonel peered though a monocular, slowly scanning the area. Flat against the side of a low gulley, he lay so only the top of his head was exposed.

“Once it was a place for the lake hunters to come in the colder season,” he heard Laaro say. “The mudgrakes they catch are good to eat.”

“Mudgrakes,” Lorne repeated, giving the word a sour tone. “That doesn’t sound appetizing.”

Sheppard glanced down. Along the gulley to the right and the left, Lorne’s men were spreading out, securing their weapons. Like him, the major had swapped his P90 submachine gun for a Wraith stunner pistol. The silvery alien guns had drawn some unpleasant looks from the locals when they were deployed — anything Wraith was to be distrusted, and Sheppard had to admit he couldn’t fault them on that. He checked the glowing green power cell and holstered it once more.

Lorne looked up at him. “Evaluation, sir?”

The colonel jerked a thumb in the direction of the lake. “This could be a bear, depending on the range of those ‘rodguns’ they’ve got. The building looks like it’s abandoned, but it’s not. Aaren’s people were right, the place is occupied. I spotted two guys, one on an upper level balcony, another one on the ground doing a circuit in the shade.”

Sergeant Rush stood nearby, studying a handheld scanner of Ancient design. “Sir, you should see this. I set it to a thermographic readout.”

Sheppard took the unit and peered at the screen. A collection of green lines showed the walls and internal spaces of the sprawling farm complex, and there were orange-red dots scattered everywhere. Human life-signs. He swore under his breath. “If this thing is reading right, there’s gotta be eighty, maybe a hundred people in there.” He scrolled the display around until he found two specific indicators, each blinking slowly. “Found ’em. McKay and Keller’s tracers are still active, so that’s something.”

He passed the scanner to Lorne, who frowned at it. “They have a lot of company in there,” said the major.

“Yeah. And it won’t be easy getting to them. This Soonir guy? He’s no fool. There’s no single good approach to the building, and anything that could be cover is gone. Brush has been cut away, no trees… It’s open, all the way to the front door.”

“If they’ve got sharpshooters, they’ll cut us down the moment we come over the ridgeline.”

“Soonir’s men are skilled,” noted Laaro, a hitch of fear in his voice. “Takkol says they are all killers.”

Sheppard turned to Rush. “Sergeant, take team three and follow the gulley around to the southwest, get an angle on the far side of the main building. And stay low. They may have spotters. When you’re in position, give me the word.”

Rush nodded. “Will do, Colonel.” He hesitated for a moment. “Sir, what about the locals?” He indicated Aaren, who crouched some distance away, busy in an intense, hushed conversation with his guards.

“I’ll handle them,” Sheppard replied. “You have your orders.”

The sergeant saluted and moved off. Lorne moved closer to his commanding officer and spoke quietly. “Sir, I don’t like this. We could be walking into a meat grinder up there.”

The colonel nodded. “The only way we can make a stealth approach is to wait for the suns to set, go in under cover of darkness.”

“That’s hours away. You think Aaren’s going to wait that long?” Lorne glanced at the elder. “He’s twitchy enough as it is.”

“It’s that or we hit the place with smoke and hope the wind doesn’t carry it away.” Sheppard sighed.

“Sure could use the Apollo right now,” the major noted. “We could grab the doctors without firing a shot.”

“While you’re at it, wish for some lemonade too. My throat’s dryer than the blacktop at Groom Lake.” He turned as he heard Aaren approaching. The elder’s eyes were darting everywhere, as if he expected Soonir’s men to descend on them at any moment. One of the trained mai cats slinked along at his heels, panting.

“Colonel, we are prepared. You will support my guards as they launch the attack, and —”

Sheppard held up a hand. “Whoa, stop right there. A couple of things you have to understand, right away. One, this is a rescue mission, it’s not an attack. Two, we go when I give the word and not before.”

Aaren rocked back, as if the colonel had slapped him. “When I agreed to allow you to assist us —”

Suddenly Sheppard realized that the men standing in a nervous circle behind the elder was a lot smaller than it had been when they arrived at the lakeside. “Where’s the rest of your guards?” he demanded, speaking over the other man.

Aaren folded his arms. “They are following my commands.”

The colonel opened his mouth to speak, but Lorne broke in, holding up the scanner. “Sir? McKay and Keller… They’re moving.”

Gaarin shifted aside a door made of woven branches and Soonir lead Jennifer and Rodney into a larger room, something that might have been a barn before the rebels had re-purposed it. There were beds in close-packed lines, most of them filled with people who seemed asleep or motionless. Something inside Keller went tense, a strange kind of anger, a sudden compulsion to do something, to help; but she didn’t know what she could do, or where to begin.

Light entered through high windows that had been hastily reinforced with bars and the only other entrance was a wide wooden door at the far end. A thickset man, cradling a rifle and carrying a machete-like weapon on his belt, sat in a wicker chair. Keller saw the guard and wondered why he was looking into the room, instead of outward for any potential threats.

“He is here for the peace-of-mind of the sick,” Soonir said quietly, picking up on her questioning look. “They see him and believe they will not be Taken again, that he will protect them.” He shook his head slightly. “A pleasant fiction, though, to help them sleep a little better at night. If the Aegis came, he could not stop it.”

“We saw people at the sick lodge,” began McKay, “these are victims of the same thing?”

Soonir nodded. “The ones that Takkol and the other elders refuse to acknowledge, people denied even the most basic treatment because they or members of their family are known to support me and my views.”

“How many more are there?” Keller asked.

“We have an extensive funeral ground outside,” muttered Gaarin.

“We do what we can to ease their suffering,” added Soonir. “Some recover. Many do not.”

Jennifer pulled open the zipper of her backpack. “Will you let me help?” She drew out a sampling kit and cracked the case, removing a handful of surgical syrettes. “I need to take a few drops of blood from people with the sickness.” Soonir’s face stiffened; as the doctor suspected, the request she made had serious significance on Heruun.

“She’s very good at what she does,” insisted Rodney. “She’s saved a lot of lives.”

“I can take the blood back to Atlantis and analyze it. If we can understand what’s happening to your people when they’re taken, then maybe we can find out how to cure this sickness.”

Gaarin shared a look with his leader and after a moment Soonir nodded. “Very well.” He took one of the medical samplers from Keller’s hand and held it up to the light. “Show me what must be done.”

The deeper Teyla and Ronon moved through the seemingly endless corridors, the more she feared she would never see the light of day again. Fleeing from the confinement level, they moved upward with the alien giants dogging them at every step. They had little time to stop and consider their course of action; the humanoids did not give them the chance.

“We’re being herded,” said Ronon, his face showing disgust at the idea. But outmatched as they were, making a stand would be pointless. Finding a way out, to freedom, was the only viable option still open to them.

On the upper levels the corridors changed. The damage they had seen in places elsewhere was much more widespread here. Whole lengths of passageway were flame-scored, panels broken or missing, the overhead illumination inert.

In one such area, Teyla’s fingers brushed something on the wall and she drew in a sudden breath.

Ronon came closer. “What is it?”

“Here…” She gingerly pressed her hands into the strange, fleshy knot of matter that wound around an exposed power conduit. “Is that what I think it is?”

He nodded grimly. “Wraith technology.” He poked it with a finger, and the fatty mass recoiled slightly. It sat strangely among the blackened metal and melted plastic, utterly wrong and out of place. “A power regulator node, I think.” The Satedan nodded to himself. “Yeah. I’ve seen these on Hive Ships.”

Teyla examined the device. “What is it doing here? It makes no sense.”

After a moment Ronon spoke again. “It’s a patch.”

“I do not understand.”

“Someone has cannibalized pieces of a Wraith ship to fix this damage. They didn’t have a regulator so they rigged a piece of Wraith tech to do the same job.”

“Is that possible?”

He gestured at the throbbing node. “Seems so.” Ronon moved on, tapping and probing at the walls. In the dimness it was hard to see, but the sound of his fist rapping on steel and then something that had to be bone, was stark and unmistakable. “More here,” he told her. “Looks like epidermal plates from the hull of a dart or a scoutship. It’s been welded in place over a busted panel.”

A crackling hum echoed down the corridor; ahead of them, it branched at another intersection. She shot Ronon a look and he nodded to her.

Silently, they made their way forward. Teyla kept low and peered around the corner. What she saw made her hesitate. “Do you see them?”

Dex nodded. “Heruuni.”

“I think you misunderstand who is in charge,” Aaren was saying.

“And I think you don’t understand the seriousness of what’s going on here,” Sheppard replied. “This is a potential hostage situation, and I don’t risk the lives of my people unless I have to!”

The elder smirked. “Then perhaps you need a lesson in boldness.”

The colonel’s jaw set. The man was letting his bravado run away with him. “Now just a damn minute,” he began, but it was already too late. Aaren punched his fist in the air, and with a ragged shout, his guard surged forward, up the ridgeline.

Major Lorne scrambled to block their path, but there were too many of them. The Heruuni dashed out across the open space, shouting and firing their rodguns. Aaren went after them and Sheppard gave chase, cursing the man’s stupidity to his back. He saw a flash of movement off to the right and there were the rest of the elder’s men, boiling up from the gulley in a crude attempt at a pincer movement.

“They’ll be cut to pieces…” Lorne snarled.

Sheppard shouted a command. “Pop smoke!” The airmen did as ordered, and a rain of cylindrical grenades arced through the air, trailing thick jets of white mist. Furious, he grabbed at his radio and snarled into it. “All units, we’re going in now! Deploy, deploy, deploy!” He shot Laaro a severe look. “And you’re not gonna move from this spot, get me?” The boy nodded sheepishly.

Sergeant Rush’s voice answered him. “Colonel, what’s happening? We’re not in position —”

“Forget it, just move in!” He glared at Lorne as the rattle of rodguns reached his ears. “So much for stealth! Aaren’s just screwed the whole operation!”

McKay’s head snapped up as the sound of shouting came to his ears. “What was that?”

“Attackers!” The cry echoed down from the upper floor, followed by the distinctive click-snap of guns coming to the ready.

Rodney found Gaarin glaring at him with newfound anger. “Wait, no —” His next words were drowned out by the clatter and whistle of shots being fired. At his side, Keller flinched as the first salvo of crude bullets peppered the walls of the old barn with a sound like handfuls of gravel against a tin sheet.

The people with the sickness could barely stir beyond moans of fear, the more able of them stumbling out of their beds, panic in their eyes. Armed rebels raced into the room, forming a cordon around Soonir.

The rebel leader had the sampler tubes clutched in his fist, and he came at McKay, his face a mix of emotions. “Did you do this? Did you bring them to us?”

“No!” But Rodney knew that might not be true; both he and Keller had hidden microtransmitters in their gear that anyone could have located, if they knew what to look for. But surely the locals didn’t have the technology for that. Unless… He swallowed hard.

“Was this all a trick?” Soonir shook the blood-filled syrettes at Keller. “Did you lie to us?”

“Never,” she insisted. “We don’t know anything about this!”

A fresh hail of rodgun rounds clawed at the walls and outside, someone screamed in pain as a shot struck flesh.

“The guards!” The shout came from the spotter on the upper level who had first cried out the alarm call. “Takkol’s men have come!”

The first wisps of white smoke curled in through the barred windows and under the gaps around the door.

Sheppard went up and over, racing into the wall of haze. He didn’t have to look to know that Lorne was right behind him, a pace or so back and to the left, covering him as he moved. He couldn’t see much, only shadows and vague shapes, but he had the route to the farmhouse mapped out in his head. Thirty seconds from the ridge to the wall at a full-tilt run, he told himself, less if I don’t stop to smell the roses.

With the Wraith stunner in a two-handed grip, the colonel moved in a quick zigzag motion, staying as close as he could to the thickest coils of the smoke; but he’d been right about the breeze. It was blowing steadily in off the lake, diffusing the smokescreen with every passing second.

He heard the snapping drone of something zipping past his ear and he ducked away as rodgun shots nipped at the dirt. Someone ahead of him shouted out in pain and crumpled to the ground. Sheppard skirted around the dead man; it was one of Aaren’s guards, blown back off his feet into a snarl of robes, his face a ruin of blood and bone.

The colonel glanced up, tracking the trajectory of the kill-shot, and through a momentary break in the smokescreen he saw a rebel with a rifle aiming right back at him. On the run, Sheppard released a pulse-bolt from the alien pistol and hit his mark. The rebel shooter fell soundlessly, instantly shocked unconscious. He dropped from the upper level balcony, tumbling headfirst over a rail and through the thatched roof of a pod-hut.

Lorne raced past and Sheppard fell in with the major, pacing him. They reached the porch of the main building as gunfire hissed and buzzed around them, the chemical taint of the white vapor coating their throats. Lorne nodded at the wide wooden door blocking the entrance and Sheppard returned the gesture. The colonel planted a heavy boot right at the point where a carved lever-lock held the door closed. It splintered and broke, and the doors groaned as they fell open. Two rebels waiting for them inside were dispatched with a brace of stunner blasts.

“Breach and clear!” ordered Sheppard, and they entered, guns high.

A woman with a rifle at her side and blood on her face from a gash on her scalp bounded into the room. “Aaren has the voyagers are with them,” she gasped. “The guards have already killed three of our men! They’re going to overrun the farm!”

“What?” Rodney heard the pure shock in Keller’s voice.

“They are here for you,” Gaarin told Soonir. “They must not be allowed to take you! Takkol will have his victory!”

“No, the sick —” Soonir reached out toward the people in the beds.

“You must go!” Gaarin turned his attention to the other rebels. “Take him to the tunnels, get him away as quickly as you can!”

The rebel leader rounded on McKay and almost threw the blood vials at him. “Is this what you wanted from us, voyager? Take them, then! Give them to your master!”

“Master?” Rodney shook his head. “We’re not working for Takkol or the Aegis! You have to believe me!”

Soonir was already being led away. “How can I?”

“Wait, no, this isn’t what we wanted…” Gaarin stood in front of McKay to stop him following.

The other rebel shoved Rodney back with the heel of his hand. “I should kill you for this,” he grated. “It would be fitting!”

“No,” called Soonir. “No more death! I will not have it.”

“I’m sorry!” Rodney yelled, as the rebel leader left them behind.

He looked up and found Gaarin glaring at him. “We are all sorry, voyager,” he growled. “Takkol will ensure we are so.”

McKay groped for something to say, but in the next second he was covering his ears as a flash bang grenade went off down the hall, the flat concussion hammering through the building.

There were four of the locals in the corridor, working silently under the glow of a lamp-globe that floated over their heads. They were patching other parts of the damaged metal walls, drawing jagged-edged pieces of Wraith bone-amour from an anti-gravity cart. One of them used something that had to be a molecular welder to bond the salvaged plating to the scorched surfaces. None of them spoke as they went about the duty.

“They move like machines,” Teyla noted. She was right; their actions were stilted and unnatural.

He nodded. “No sign of any of those creatures, either.”

“Shall we take the other path, then? Avoid them?”

Ronon shook his head. “No. Let’s go take a look.”

The four figures — three men and a woman — showed no sign of noticing their approach, and when Teyla spoke to them they still did not react.

“Hello? Can you hear us?”

“Look,” said the Satedan, indicating the woman. “Remember her?”

Recognition bloomed on Teyla’s face. “The Heruuni woman from the farm. The one we saw taken by the creatures.”

Ronon waved his hand in front of the woman’s face, snapped his fingers; nothing. “Hey,” he snapped, raising his voice. “I’m talking to you.”

The woman’s eyes were vacant and expressionless.

“It’s as if they’ve been conditioned,” said Teyla. “Put into a waking trance…”

Ronon stepped in front of the woman from the farm and blocked her path. “Stop what you’re doing,” he demanded, using the ‘command’ tone of voice they had taught him in his combat training on Sateda.

To his mild surprise, that had the desired effect. The four of them immediately halted.

“Suggestibility,” Teyla noted. “They’re no better than drones in this state. Mind-controlled, just waiting for the right instructions.” She glanced at him. “For someone to give them orders.”

“That, I can do,” said Ronon. “How do we get out of this place?” he demanded, searching their faces for any signs of consciousness; he found nothing but blank, mute stares. It was, in its own way, unnerving. Ronon turned to another of them, a man with a shorn skull and faint tattooing. “Tell me where the exit is!”

All four of the Heruuni turned as one and pointed down the corridor.

“That is progress,” Teyla allowed.

“Reckon so.” Ronon prodded the man in the chest. “You will show us where it is.”

He got a languid nod in return, and with halting steps, the man began to wander away, off into the darkness.

Moving quickly and carefully, Sheppard and Lorne went from room to room, calling out “Clear!” each time they found an empty chamber, and using the stunners when opposition came at them. They halted at a closed door and shared a look.

“Where’s this band of dangerous militants Aaren was talking about?” said Lorne. “These guys are just day-players. They barely know how to put up a fight.”

Sheppard nodded. Only a handful of the rebels they had encountered seemed to have anything like a basic tactical sense. Most of them had surrendered the moment they were threatened, and some didn’t even appear to be able to work their weapons correctly. These people weren’t exactly the heavily-armed band of marauders that the elder had painted them as.

From the opposite end of the building came the crash-whump of a flash bang, and over the radio the colonel heard Sergeant Rush’s voice. “South entrance secure. Resistance is minimal.”

“Roger that,” Sheppard replied. “Hold your position and make sure that Aaren’s yahoos don’t shoot anyone else.”

“Wilco,” said the sergeant.

“He’s not gonna like that, sir,” Lorne noted.

“I don’t care what he likes, Major. I’ve had enough of people on this planet yanking our chains. Go!” He moved up toward the door and shouldered it open.

An empty wicker chair tumbled out of the way and the two officers found themselves inside a large barn filled with beds and scared people.

“What the hell…?” Lorne halted, panning his weapon over a sea of frightened faces.

Sheppard caught sight of McKay and Keller across the room, with an armed local towering over them. “Drop the gun!” he shouted. “Right now!”

“It’s okay!” Rodney replied, gingerly reaching up to take the man’s rifle. “Don’t shoot him.”

The tall rebel’s shoulders slumped and he released his grip on the rodgun. Sheppard was there in a heartbeat, the stunner still at the ready. “You okay?” He directed the question at Keller, and the doctor gave him a shallow nod; she looked frustrated and weary.

“Yes, we are fine,” McKay added. “Thanks for asking.”

“What part of the words sit tight did you not understand?” Sheppard glared at the scientist. “I told you to say in the settlement. Did I leave any kind of ambiguity in that statement?”

“We got blood samples!” McKay retorted, as if that was explanation enough.

“They don’t call me ‘colonel’ because I like fried chicken, McKay. I’m the ranking officer here, and when I give an order I expect it to be obeyed!”

“They had guns,” Rodney countered.

Sheppard prodded him in the chest. “So did you.”

“And what would a shoot-out have done for us?” Keller broke in. “We need the trust of these people!”

He shook his head. “Yeah, well, I think that ship has already sailed.” The colonel shot a look over his shoulder. “Lorne! Get your men in here, secure these people.”

As the major spoke into his radio, there was a commotion at the other entrance to the barn. Aaren entered, his face like thunder, together with a knot of his guards and several marines trailing with him. “Sorry, sir,” said the sergeant with them, “I tried to stop him.”

“Just for once, Rush, would it kill you to bring me some good news?”

Aaren waggled a finger in Sheppard’s face. “Soonir has escaped! You allowed this to happen, Colonel, with your delays and indecision!”

“You jumped the gun,” Sheppard replied. “That’s on your head, pal.”

The elder gestured at the sick scattered around the room. “Take the prisoners back to the settlement.”

“They aren’t militants,” said the tall rebel. “They’re our families, afflicted with the sickness that you pretend does not exist!”

“You lied to me,” Sheppard said, in a low, dangerous voice. He took a step closer to Aaren and the elder’s men came forward; in the same moment Lorne, Rush and the other marines had their weapons raised. “This place is packed with non-combatants. You wanted me to raid a hospital.”

“The militants escaped in the confusion,” Aaren retorted. “We know they have an underground network of passages in this area. They must have slipped away…” He straightened and fixed Sheppard with a hard gaze. “You will help us track Soonir. I saw your devices. You will be able to find him for us.”

The colonel grunted. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” He turned to Lorne and shook his head. “Secure your weapons. We’re done here. Assemble our people and head back to the gate.”

The major saluted and moved off.

“You are going to leave?” Aaren was surprised.

“Not all of us.” Sheppard replied. “Not until we find Ronon and Teyla.” He nodded to McKay and Keller. “Come on.”

Jennifer glanced around the room, shaking her head “Colonel, these people —”

“— Are not going to be helped by you staying here.” He spoke over her. “You’re going back to Atlantis. And just in case you’re not certain, that’s an order, Doctor.”

“John,” McKay began to speak, but he was silenced by an uncompromising glare from his friend.

“We’re not getting dragged into another local fight, Rodney. This has happened way too many times on my watch, and it’s not gonna happen again here.” He turned toward the yawning doors.

Aaren snarled. “Sheppard! I am a senior elder! You cannot walk away from me!”

He answered without turning around. “Watch me.”

The bald man halted in front of a larger set of hatch doors and pointed at it. His face retained the same bland nothingness; it was impossible for Teyla to read anything from him, no emotional cues, not a single spark of self. She chewed her lip. Even the Asuran Replicators, pure machine life forms, copied human nature enough to have expressions and emotions visible on their faces. The Athosian felt a moment of sorrow for the man; was this mindless state the condition of every Heruuni who became one of the Taken?

Ronon gestured at the doors and they parted; beyond was a short length of corridor, apparently undamaged, ending in another hatchway. The man continued to point. “That way?” Dex asked. “Open it.”

By way of assent, the bald man walked on, toward the other doors. Ronon followed him, but Teyla hesitated just inside the threshold. Something seemed…wrong.

Ronon eyed her. “Teyla? What is it?”

“I don’t know —”

The ellipse in her hand glowed, flashing a green-red. Before she could react, the doors they had just stepped through slammed shut. She heard a faint squeal as a pressure seal locked.

A sudden and terrible thought formed in her mind. “Oh no.” She launched herself toward the bald man, who was doggedly working a crystalline touchpad in the far wall. “Stop him!”

She was not quick enough. The far hatch clicked and began to open. From nowhere, a horrific tornado blasted through the chamber, knocking the three of them to their feet. The wind was made of ice and razors and it tore at Teyla and Ronon, dragging them across the smooth floor.

Panting, the very breath in her lungs being sucked out through her mouth, Teyla chanced a glance over her shoulder towards the ever-opening doors. Out beyond them, she saw a stark monochrome landscape; a mottled grey-white landscape, a black sky, and hanging in it the globe of a clouded brown world ringed by a glittering halo.

Heruun.

Then her eyes began to prickle as needles of pain lanced into them, the fluid in the soft tissues dropping toward freezing point. Teyla saw the bald man tumble silently out through the widening gap, to tumble into the white dust beyond. A stream of reddish fluid followed him down, droplets from his nostrils and mouth becoming crimson pearls as they flash-froze in the vacuum.

She tried to scream, but the wind was too loud. The terrible chill crept into her, and she was dimly aware of something holding on to her, a strong hand around her wrist. Every movement an effort now, Teyla looked back to see Ronon gripping her arm, his other hand locked around a curved stanchion in the wall. His bare arms were covered in patches of frost, and his beard was turning white. She saw his lips moving.

Hold on.

Teyla managed a nod, but it was all she could do. The sudden, punishing cold was leaching the life from her, draining away her energy. She felt icicles of blood forming on her cheeks, cutting into her. All she could think of was Kanaan and their unborn child.

Her vision fogged, turned grey.

Turned black.