Nightfall

Chapter Nine

A silent landslide began on the surface of Heruun’s prime moon. Streams of powdery stone and lunar dust shifted and fell away in slow floods, seeping back towards the crater basin beneath the concealed Asgard starship.

On landing, all those years earlier, the vessel’s automatic defensive systems had scanned the descent site and activated a camouflage subroutine. Tailored gravity wave generators drew the grey sand over the ship like a blanket, an emergency defensive measure to protect it from cursory visual detection; but now the vessel was shrugging off sleep, rising with stately power from its resting place. It was a steel phoenix clawing its way from the ashes.

Damage that would have taken years more to repair using the Taken and the Risar had been completed in days, thanks to the intervention of the Atlanteans, although the vessel was still far from being fully operational; but once more it returned to the ocean of space, the airless void where it belonged. Such craft were not made to be shackled by the forces of gravity — the starships of the Asgard were their art as much as they were their conveyances — and Fenrir’s vessel seemed to welcome its freedom, the huge hammerhead prow turning to catch the light from the sun.

In profile, the Asgard ship resembled a massive iron claw, vertical fins extending from the dorsal and ventral hulls, and curved wing-like sections fanning out from the main fuselage. The light of new energy glittered through numerous viewports along the length of the craft, and at the stern the thruster grids of the massive sub-light engines glowed a soft honey-yellow as they idled at station keeping. But still the ship’s ascent, quicker now, a falling feather in reverse, was marred by the lines of damage across the steel-grey hull metal. Great scratches carved by the burning touch of Wraith energy weapons were visible across the bows and along the starboard side, mute reminders of a salvo delivered by a Wraith cruiser’s broadside batteries. The enemy that had inflicted those wounds was long destroyed, ashes and wreckage that had burned up in Heruun’s atmosphere, lighting the night as falling stars.

The moon dropped away and at last the ship was in free space, drifting in the orbit between the satellite and the mother planet. Turning in a long, steady arc, the Asgard ship brought itself to bear on Heruun. The thruster glow grew brighter and it coasted forward at a fraction of its available power, moving toward the slow-turning world.

The ship that bore the name Aegis took up a high orbit above the planet and the people it had protected, and like an animal awakening from hibernation, it began to stretch its muscles and test its boundaries.

“Have we been detected?” spat the commander, glowering at the scientist.

The other Wraith shook his head, the long white streaks of his hair plastered to his face with fear-sweat. “No… No.”

The uncertainty in the words made the commander’s lips peel back, revealing his fanged mouth. “Be certain!” he snarled. “If we are found, we are dead!”

“We are safe.” The scientist turned from his console and gave the commander a defiant look. “For the moment, at least.”

The ship’s master glared at the flickering image on the viewer lens before him. The gunmetal alien craft turning, moving slowly through the darkness. It was a battleship, of that he had no doubt. The design of it was all threat, a brute force expression of menace. Unlike the graceful sculpting of a Wraith cruiser, with its spindly arachnid lines, this vast craft was a war hammer, a weapon poised to smash its enemies. As he watched it move, the commander understood why so many of his clan had been killed by this intruder; it radiated power. Nothing so large should have turned so quickly… It seemed wrong that such agility could be present in such a behemoth.

Fear was a rare commodity for a Wraith to experience; so much of their existence was spent in the creation of that emotion in their prey that they seldom experienced it themselves. And yet… A cold prickle lanced through the commander’s flesh as he grasped the scope of the alien ship’s power. His tiny scoutship was no match for the intruder. It would crush it like an insect.

But fear was not the only sensation that came to him. Quickly, the first was overpowered by a second, greater emotion. Avarice.

The scientist shared it with him. “What secrets it must hide,” whispered the other Wraith. “What power. If our clan could possess it —”

The commander gave a terse nod. In the war with the hated Asuran machine-beings, a ship of such magnitude could tip the balance; and it would seal the ascension of their clan above the others of their species. “Our Queen must know of this. Plans must be drawn, and quickly. It is time for us to depart.”

“Is that possible?” The scientist was fearful again. “If we move from our hiding place in the rings, we will be detected!”

“If we do not, we will be found cowering and culled like humans!” he snapped back. “Observe the alien’s aspect; it has yet to reach orbital stability. Until then, we have a window of escape open to us that will soon close.” The commander nodded to the drone at the navigation podium. “Set a stealth course. Follow the rings around to the far side. We will place the planet’s mass between us and the intruder craft. Even if our hyperspace transition is detected, they will not have time to intercept us.”

“The risk is great,” grumbled the scientist.

“You are correct,” agreed the commander, as he studied the alien vessel once again. “But the reward will be so much greater.”

“This vessel is…impressive,” said Teyla. The word hardly seemed enough to encompass the ship’s quiet power. She glanced at the unmoving figure in the stasis capsule; it felt odd speaking to a holographic avatar when the real being was lying nearby in suspended animation.

The simulated Fenrir turned from the screen in front of them. “The Aegis is a Beliskner-class starship, the mainstay of the Asgard starfleet. An old design but a reliable one.”

She nodded. After the conversation at Jaaya’s lodge, Teyla felt uncomfortable in the company of the alien, as if she feared the secret she held would suddenly slip from her lips. “I must admit, I am unsure why you invited me to witness this. Colonel Carter, perhaps —”

“She is below, on the engineering decks,” said Fenrir. “She is quite intelligent for a human of her evolutionary status.” The Asgard made a small noise in its throat. “Ah, forgive me. I do not mean to appear patronizing. The ship would still be planetbound if not for the help your kind have given me.”

“I am not offended. Just curious…”

Fenrir came closer. She watched him walking; the Asgard seemed so frail, so delicate, as if a stiff breeze would blow him away like a bundle of sticks; and again she felt a pang of sympathy for the alien, of sorrow.

He looked up at her. “I… Have had little company in the past years. The Risar are only reflections of my own psyche and the Heruuni… Those I attempted to speak to at first were unable to think of me as anything other than some form of deity. But you, Teyla Emmagan. You are the first human I encountered who challenged me, who did not fear me. I wish to know you.”

It wasn’t the response Teyla expected at all. She wasn’t sure how to respond; she took a different tack instead. “Where are the other crew of the Aegis?”

“There are none,” he explained. “Our ships are highly automated. At the most, our craft require only one, perhaps two Asgard to operate it. In the event of a larger crew requirement, Risar can be deployed.”

“You must be lonely.” The last word threatened to catch in her throat.

“I have known that emotional state, yes. But I have had my work and the repairs to occupy my mind.”

Teyla paused, weighing her thoughts. On the one hand, she could not deny she felt a kind of kinship to the lost Asgard, but at the same time she questioned the things that he had done to the Heruuni. “Fenrir, you spoke of challenge. I must do so again, and ask you this — why did you prey upon the natives of this world?”

“They were not prey,” said the alien, affront in his voice. “I did not mistreat them. I regret what I was forced to do, but you must realize that I had no other choice.”

“But the sickness, this malaise caused by the nanite markers you used. I saw the process of insertion, remember. I saw what you tried to do to Ronon.”

The Asgard was silent for a long time, and the hologram flickered slightly. “I am sorry for any pain or suffering I may have caused. That was never my intention, you must believe me. I had no idea that the markers would create a side-effect.” He walked across to the stasis pod and in an odd moment of reflection, the holographic Asgard stared down at his living, dormant body. When he spoke again, it was with genuine regret. “I have made so many mistakes in my life, Teyla Emmagan. But sometimes the course of right lies beyond our reach, no matter how hard we try to grasp it.”

Fenrir’s words cut deeper than Teyla wanted to admit. She returned to her earlier thread of conversation. “Doctor McKay spoke of how your species are from another galaxy.”

“We call it Othala,” he nodded.

“What was it that brought you out here, to Pegasus?”

The hologram flickered again. “My voyage… Was an extended mission of scientific research,” explained the Asgard. “It gave much opportunity to think.” He was silent for a moment, his gaze turned inward. “We Asgard are caught in a dilemma. Assailed by outside forces, we strive to endure. My species do not have the biological ability to procreate as yours do.”

“You reproduce by cloning yourselves.”

Another nod. “Genetic duplication of a host body.” Fenrir pointed a long-fingered hand at the stasis pod. “Neural patterning technology allows us to transfer memories and persona from a dying body to a new one… But one must question, Teyla, if that is truly life or just a facsimile.”

Despite herself, the Athosian’s expression clouded at the alien’s description of his artificial immortality. “But how can that be an existence? It is not a continuation. You are dying over and over again, each new Asgard only a copy of the last…”

“And the copies fade over time. I have observed that some civilizations believe in the existence of an ephemeral component to a living consciousness, an essence that transcends crude matter in the moment of death.”

“A soul.”

“That is one term for it. And if such a thing does exist, then I fear that the souls of the Asgard people were lost a long time ago.”

She crossed to the capsule. “Perhaps not. On Athos, we believe that a person is not born with a soul, only the seed of one. We believe that it can only become fully formed through deeds, through work and sacrifice, through self-knowledge.”

Fenrir’s small mouth turned in something that could have been a smile. “Then perhaps there is a chance for my people yet to know such a thing.”

Teyla returned a rueful smile. The Asgard continued to confound her expectations of him; she began to understand what it was about these aliens that so intrigued the people of Earth. There was a sadness about the lone being that was undeniable; and yet she also sensed something hidden, something more than the Fenrir she was being allowed to see. The hologram was as much a mask as it was the reality.

“I envy you,” he said abruptly, coming closer. “You carry a growing life within you, the merging of your genetic matrix with another of your kind, and more. It is at once such a complex and wondrous thing, and yet so simple a process. But for all the great knowledge of the Asgard, we cannot duplicate so basic a biological function. Our every attempt to stem the tide of decay has been a failure. The very process we have used to survive will eventually destroy us.”

Fenrir raised a tentative hand and held it before Teyla’s belly, as if he were afraid to touch her; then the hologram flickered once more and his limb dropped to his side, as he remembered that he could never actually make contact with her, not with a mere pattern of photons and energy. “The Asgard are fast approaching an evolutionary dead end,” he said, “and when that point is reached, the light of our civilization, the sum of all we are, will be extinguished.”

Teyla’s silent self-reproach burned like acid in her chest. “I am sorry,” she told him. It was as close to the truth as she dared to voice.

In the drive chamber of the Aegis, a ball of energy that looked like a piece of the sun roiled and spun inside a column of pure anti-protons. Around it orbited contra-rotating rings of systemry that turned about each other in mid-air; and beyond them were vanes made of crystalline circuits and conduits channeling enough raw power to punch a hole through the fabric of space-time.

‘Cool’ was the word that Samantha Carter would have used if someone had asked her to describe it. Under normal laws of physics, anyone standing where she was would have been instantly immolated by the catastrophic bombardment of exotic radiation, but inside the Asgard engine room, protected by force fields and quantum baffles, she felt nothing but the slightly-below-room-temperature ambience that the Asgard seemed to like aboard their ships.

She glanced at the data pad in her hand; confirming that the power train from the drive core was stable, she tugged on the fiber optic cable connecting it to the monitor station where she stood and detached the device. Carter stood silently for a moment, basking in the glow of a science she could only just begin to understand. From what the SGC’s best minds had been able to comprehend, Asgard ships used the energy differential states in captured remnants of neutron stars to power their vessels. Just the basic mechanics of making something like that work were beyond the ragged edge of humanity’s knowledge of quantum mechanics and cosmology, and Sam was enthused by the enormity of it.

“One day,” she said aloud, “one day when we’re not looking over our shoulders for the next invasion, I’m going to take one of you boys to bits and figure out what makes you tick.”

“But not today, ma’am, right?” Major Lorne had entered the chamber without her noticing. “I mean, not that I doubt your skills or anything, but I’d hate to be stuck on this tub with the lights out.”

“Not today,” she agreed. “Besides, there’s too much to do here. Sensors are still out, so are the weapons. We have sub-light engines and hyperdrive, though, which is a start.”

“That’s great, Clonel, because we might want to think about zapping out to another system for a drop-off.”

Carter frowned. “I don’t follow you, Major.”

“We have some, uh, cargo that you might want to dump. Sergeant Rush’s team were sweeping the ship and we came across some old friends in a holding chamber.”

“Wraith,” she said with a scowl. “Teyla mentioned that she’d encountered some in one of the cells. Are they secure?”

“I posted guards with shoot-to-kill orders outside the hatches.”

“Good work.”

Lorne cleared his throat. “What do you want me to do with them?”

Carter realized the question she was being asked. “We can’t release them here.”

“No ma’am. And from what I hear, the Asgard doesn’t seem to care what happens to them.” Lorne paused before continuing. “Which doesn’t leave a lot of choices.”

Sam’s expression hardened. “I’m not issuing orders for an execution detail, Major, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“I’m just outlining the options,” he replied. “If things were reversed, you know how it would go.”

“I do,” she noted. “But we’re not the Wraith. For now, keep them locked up. We’ll deal with the prisoners once we get the Aegis up and running.”

Lorne saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

The Puddle Jumper emerged from the Stargate on P5X-404 into the middle of a rainstorm. Sheppard blinked as a wall of water battered against the canopy glass and sluiced away, forced into streaks by the velocity of the craft.

“Lovely weather,” noted Rodney from the jump seat.

“It always rains when you come home.” Sheppard angled the Jumper upwards in a slow climb, leaving the rocky canyon they had emerged into behind, sweeping up toward the low, ponderous clouds. He caught a glimpse of strange, globe-like monoliths out across the landscape, but they were lost as the ship entered the storm bank. In a few seconds they were flying in clear blue skies, the color darkening by the moment as they rose up toward the edge of the atmosphere.

McKay watched the planet fall behind them. “Welcome to the Milky Way galaxy,” he said, mimicking the tone of an in-flight announcer. “Thank you for flying Gatebridge.” He grinned at his own joke. “Can you imagine the kind of air miles you’d get for this trip?

“Technically, not as many as the Daedalus and Apollo crews would get. I mean, realistically speaking, we’ve only gone from the hangar to the Atlantis gate room, across the Midway station and now out of the gate here.”

“Wormhole travel still counts,” McKay replied. “I’m keeping a record.”

“What, really?”

Rodney nodded. “Bill Lee and I have been keeping a log. We’re trying to work out who’s the most-traveled human being in history.”

“That’s dumb,” Sheppard rolled his eyes. “We really have to get you a proper hobby, McKay.” He paused. “So, who’s top of the list?”

Rodney frowned. “Sam.”

“Am I on there? In the top ten?”

“Didn’t you just say you thought it was dumb?”

“I just wondered.” The Jumper’s passage began to smooth out as the atmosphere of 404 thinned, the blue sky becoming black.

An alert tone sounded from Sheppard’s radio. “Jumper Three, do you copy?” asked a crisp female voice. “This is Odyssey.”

“Odyssey, this is Colonel Sheppard, we read you five by five.”

“Roger that. Your vector is zero six bravo, clear to land on deck two, checkers green. And Colonel? Word to the wise, sir. Watch your separation, we have a lot of busy sky up here.”

“I read you, Odyssey. Sheppard out.”

“What did she mean by that? ‘Busy sky’?”

“Take a look.” Sheppard brought up the tactical plot on the heads-up display and it was instantly filled with moving indicator glyphs.

“Whoa, what is this, a boat show?”

“Staging point,” Sheppard explained, dropping the HUD again. “The SGC’s taking part in a joint task force mission.”

McKay leaned forward in his seat to get a better look and his eyes widened.

Dwarfing the size of its stone-built counterparts on Earth, a towering golden pyramid drifted past the Jumper’s blunt nose. Beyond it were a half-dozen more Ha’tak class motherships, the sigils of the System Lords that once commanded them now blotted out by the new pennants of the Free Jaffa Nation. Amid the fleet, smaller Al’kesh bombers moved in tight arrowhead packs, and box-formation flights of Death Gliders conducted area patrols.

A group of the ships matched pace with the Jumper for a few moments, the winged scarab shapes of the Jaffa starfighters bracketing them as the pilots gave them the once-over; then abruptly they broke off in high turns and banked away.

Sheppard glimpsed the hard lines of the USS Odyssey to the starboard and angled toward it. Among the sculpted shapes of the Goa’uld-designed vessels, the Earth ship looked out of place, angular and deadly among its larger companions. The colonel turned for the deep space carrier’s landing pontoon, passing a lone F-302 fighter going the other way. The 302 pilot dipped his wings in a salute and Sheppard rocked the Jumper from side to side in return.

Sheppard flared the Jumper and took it in low and slow, though the atmosphere shield and down on to the deck, where an airman in a visibility vest directed the ship to a parking area.

“Down and safe,” he said aloud, dropping the embarkation ramp.

Waiting for them was an Air Force major in the characteristic khaki jumpsuit worn by almost everyone aboard these ships. He tore off a hard, sharp salute that was so firm, at first Rodney thought it was a kind of karate chop. “Colonel, Doctor, welcome aboard the Odyssey. I’m Major East, the executive officer. The captain sends his regrets that he couldn’t be here to meet you, but he’s off the ship.” East began walking in quick, non-nonsense strides across the landing bay and Sheppard fell in with him as McKay jogged to keep up. “Tactical operations meeting,” he continued. “The Jaffa are planning this strike down to the heartbeat.”

“What’s the op?” asked Sheppard.

“We have good intel about one of Baal’s bases in an asteroid belt, out on the edge of Jaffa space. The Ha’taks are leading the fight, we’re handling combat air patrol of the engagement zone. Watching their backs, so to speak.”

“A strike mission?” echoed Rodney. “Nobody said anything about going into battle when we got here.”

“You won’t,” said East, “you’ll be gone by then.”

“Major, this could take a while,” said Sheppard, “I mean, there’s a whole database of Asgard learning aboard this ship and we have to find just one little bit. ”

“If it’s actually in there,” noted the officer. “We looked once already.”

“I’ll find it,” Rodney insisted.

“I hope so,” said the major, “because the IOA and the SGC want you back on your way to the Pegasus galaxy within 48 hours. That’s the zero line for the mission go-no go.” East gave Rodney a measuring look. “You’re lucky to get across the bridge so fast. Normally there’s a day-long quarantine.”

McKay nodded. “Colonel Carter got them to waive that and gate us straight here.”

“That SG-1 rep goes a long way, I guess. You save the planet as many times as her team did and it gets you a lot of leeway.”

“We’ve saved planets and stuff as well,” noted Sheppard. “Not in this galaxy, but you know… Important planets.”

East gave a nod. “Yes sir. I heard that.” They halted at a hatch to a corridor. “Doctor McKay, if you follow me, I’ll escort you down to the core for a security check.”

Something caught Sheppard’s eye and he nodded. “Yeah, you two go on ahead. I see someone I know. I’ll catch up.”

Rodney watched him walk off across the deck. “What kind of security check?”

“The Asgard database is of highly critical strategic value,” said East. “Obviously we don’t just let anyone have access to it. The check’s a formality, no big deal.” He shot McKay a quick look. “Unless you have a thing about needles.”

“Staff!” He called out and a soldier in British-issue BDU camos turned to face him. “Staff Sergeant Mason, how the hell are you?”

The SAS trooper snapped off a salute. “Colonel Sheppard, sir. I’m as well as can be expected. How are things on Atlantis?”

“Same old, same old. Wraith. Replicators. The usual mayhem.”

Mason accepted this with a nod. “I heard you moved the city.”

Sheppard shrugged. “It’s a long story. But the fishing is much better in the new place.”

“Sorry to hear about Weir and Beckett.”

“Yeah.” He frowned and nodded, then gestured at the ship around them. “I see the IOA still has you Brits knee deep in the Stargate program, though.”

“Just doing our bit, boss,” he replied. “It’s a long way from what happened on Halcyon.”

“Yeah,” agreed the colonel. Mason and his squad had been part of a military exchange program posted to Atlantis almost two years ago, and during an off-world mission on a planet riven by endless wars, Sheppard had found the stony-faced spec-ops sergeant to be a dedicated and steadfast soldier. “What are you doing here?”

“We’ve been on the Oddie for a couple of weeks, along with some Spetsnaz lads. We’re going in with the first wave of Jaffa to do some recon-in-force.” He lowered his voice. “We’re the only ones getting our hands dirty, though. To be honest, sir, the IOA has pressured Stargate Command to keep this ship well out of the firing line. If they had their way, it’d be permanently parked out at Area 51.”

“The Asgard Core,” said Sheppard. “It’s too valuable to chance it being destroyed.”

Mason nodded. “’Course, that means the Free Jaffa think we’re all yellow. But me and the Ivans and a squad of SG-13’s Jarheads are going to change some minds.”

“Just watch your six around that Baal creep. Don’t let the smooth accent fool you, he’s tricky.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Good luck, sir.” The soldier saluted again, palm out, thumb down.

Sheppard did the same. “You too, Staff.”

McKay rubbed the sore spot on his arm were the corpsman had taken the blood sample, and glared at him. “Got enough?” he said pointedly.

“We can’t be too careful,” said East, who stood with an armed security trooper at the entrance to the compartment housing the Asgard database. “Our enemies have played some pretty smart tricks on us in the past. The Goa’uld, the Replicators, the Ori, they’ve all used duplicates and spies at one time.”

“Do I look like a Prior?” McKay retorted. “I mean, really. I have much better skin tone.”

The medical corpsman’s analysis unit gave a chime. “He’s clean. It all matches up, blood, retina, voice print, the works.”

Rodney clapped his hands together. “Great. Now we’ve established that I’m not a Cylon, can I please get to work?”

East nodded to the security guard, who opened the hatch. “Knock yourself out, Doctor. Just remember —”

“48 hours, right.”

McKay’s first thought on seeing the Asgard Core was of a church organ; the device resembled most of the consoles on Fenrir’s ship, but it was larger, and forged from a strange hybrid of human and alien technologies. Multiple holographic screens danced in the air, projected from hidden emitter nodes in the complex metallic-crystalline matrix of the device.

His mouth went dry. Inside this machine lay the assembled secrets of a species that had been venturing across intergalactic space when mankind was still in the bronze age, a universe of knowledge belonging to a race that had shackled stars to their command, bent and twisted the laws of mathematics, quantum physics and biology… It was staggering to think of it.

For a moment, a flash of childhood memory replayed in his mind’s eye; the day when he had taken his father’s hand and followed him into the local public library for the very first time. The towering stacks of books reaching away from him, seeming to go on forever. Knowledge, there for the taking.

He blinked away the reverie. As much fun as it would be to dive into the depths of the core and find the answers to problems like the Collatz conjecture or the framework for a Grand Unified Theory, Rodney wasn’t here to sightsee. He had a job to do, a target to locate.

McKay took a seat at the central console, the holographic screens orienting themselves obediently to him. “Open search engine,” he told it, cracking his fingers. “Search parameters are as follows; tell me everything there is to know about the Asgard known as Fenrir.”

Three words immediately appeared on all the screens. NO DATA FOUND.

He grinned. “You’re just not looking hard enough.” He leaned forward and began to work the keyboard in front of him.

There were just three of them left now, the other two nothing more than papery skin over jutting, angular bones.

One of the others bent over the last they had fed upon, placing his hand upon its sunken chest; but the feeding maw in his palm gained no purchase. There was no more life left to take.

With hard eyes, feral and hungry, the Wraith turned to face the others it shared a cell with. One was another functionary drone, but the other was the warrior. The warrior had made the decisions as to which of them would be sacrificed, as was the right of one so ranked in the clan. But now the choice of who would be fed upon next had narrowed too far. This time the Wraith drone would not accept its fate.

The warrior cocked his head, sensing the thoughts of its kindred. His lips drew back in a low snarl, daring the other Wraith to defy him, to attack.

And if he did, then what would happen? The thin veneer of control that had kept them barely sane, living out weeks and months since the alien had dragged them from the wreckage of their cruiser, that would break. It would shatter like glass and they would fall upon one another, fighting and feeding in frenzy until only one was left.

The low-ranked Wraith hesitated. No matter what happened, death was the only end point. He would either perish now at the hands of his own kind, eke out a slow and painful ending as a food source for his kindred, or — perhaps by some miracle — win out and survive to eventually die alone and starving.

Aching muscles coiled in his legs and his hands contracted into claws. So be it then; death now or death later. There was no point in waiting —

“Wait,” said the warrior, a twitch on his face. “Wait. Listen.”

At first he thought it was some sort of ploy, a distraction the warrior would use to blindside him and then drain him dry; but then he heard.

Not through the meat and bones of the audial pits on his cheeks and skull, but through the haze of his thoughts. Distant, like the sense of an electrical storm far beyond the horizon, close like the acidic stink of his own stale body fluids. He caught the eyes of the other Wraith in the cell with him and they all shared a nod of new, unshakable purpose.

It was a voice, echoing and approaching. A sweet, sweet voice dripping with promise and the raw pleasure of a feeding as yet untasted. A psychic bell tolling, the call of his clan Queen.

A single word, brimming with emotion and assurance.

Soon.

Teyla Emmagan stumbled to a halt in the corridor and put out a hand to steady herself, pressing the other to her head.

For a moment…

It was a spike of pain that lanced through her, harsh and brutal; but as quickly as it had arisen, it was gone, faded away as if it had never occurred.

I thought I heard…

She took a breath and straightened up.

Nothing. It was nothing…