The Furies

Chapter Thirty-one Tiger by the Tail

“Almost there,” Ronon said quietly into his radio. “I need silence, Sheppard.”

“Ok. Check in when you’re done.” Sheppard’s voice was worried. And why not, Jennifer thought. This was all crazy. Crazy dangerous. The world pitched around her for a second and then steadied.

“It should be just up here,” Ronon said. He glanced at her, his brow furrowed. “You stay behind me. Once I’ve dropped Rodney, I need you to sedate him to keep him out. With this thing set on stun Wraith don’t stay out long.”

“I’m ready,” Jennifer said. Her hypodermic was loaded, capped tightly in an inner jacket pocket. Even a Wraith would be out for a couple of hours with what was essentially enough anesthetic for major surgery. Rodney wouldn’t be able to give them a fight while they were removing him from the hive ship and getting him safely aboard the Hammond.

The world steadied. Cold sweat still stood out on her face, and Jennifer shivered. She was getting a grip. Her heart wasn’t pounding quite so fast. At least Ronon hadn’t noticed.

Ronon slid up almost against the door to the lab, listening. Jennifer, behind him, couldn’t hear anything, but apparently Ronon could because he smiled wolfishly. Here we go, it meant, and he looked almost happy as he activated the door, thundering through with a barrage of shots.

“Hey!” It might have been Rodney’s voice, Rodney’s voice utterly changed. She heard a shout, and then the shots ceased.

Jennifer peered around the door trying to see what had happened.

“Come in,” Ronon said. He sounded satisfied as he keyed the door closed behind her. “Got him. He was by himself.”

Rodney lay unconscious in the middle of the floor, one arm flung up over his face. Jennifer knelt beside him, rolling him carefully onto his back.

His hair was stark white but thicker than it had been, spiking up like an 80s rock star over a green seamed face, the sensory pits along the sides of his nose making his face look thinner and more pinched. His eyes were closed. The pulse at his neck was steady, his skin soft and a little oily under her hands. This was the first time she had touched him in two months, she thought. All the times she’d wanted to and touched empty air.

“He ok?” Ronon knelt down on the other side, carefully not touching Rodney.

“He’s just unconscious,” Jennifer said, nodding sharply. “Good job.” She reached in her jacket pocket and pulled out the hypodermic, carefully rolled up his left sleeve and injected it into the vein. “We should have at least an hour or two with this, but I can’t give him more.”

“It’s not going to take us an hour,” Ronon said. He snapped a bracelet with a radio transmitter around Rodney’s wrist. That would allow the Hammond to lock onto Rodney as easily as to them.

Once again the world wavered, and Jennifer clutched at the floor to keep from falling. Rodney’s face swam before her eyes.

“Jennifer?” Ronon’s voice was concerned.

Her vision darkened. What was this? This wasn’t nerves. This wasn’t a fear reaction. Jennifer opened her mouth but nothing came out. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t see.

“Jennifer?” Sharper now. She thought maybe Ronon had grabbed her shoulder.

And then the world went entirely dark.

“I cannot remove the ZPM,” Teyla said quietly, opening her eyes.

“You mean the ship won’t take your orders?” John said, his hair dripping with sweat as he cradled the P90 in his arms.

“I mean that it cannot be removed,” Teyla said shortly. “It has been completely integrated with the ship’s systems. I cannot imagine who could have done this.”

“I can,” Radek said grimly. “Rodney.”

John swore. He looked at Guide. “And if we pull the damn thing we’ll blow ourselves up?”

“Immediately,” Guide said. “Instantaneously.”

“Ok, not a plan.” John looked back and forth between Guide and Radek. “Can you set it to overload? That will take a while to build up, right?”

“It will,” Radek acknowledged. “And yes, it can be set to overload.”

“You will destroy the ship, Sheppard,” Guide said. “And all else who are too near.”

“It is what Steelflower would do,” Teyla said. “To deny it to Death in revenge for her treachery.”

Guide looked at her, and she felt his words as much as heard them in her mind. *You are Steelflower in truth.*

*Yes,* she said. *I am.*

“I will set it to overload,” Guide said, coming around her to stand at the terminal. “We will have four minutes from when I am finished.”

“Understood,” John said, keying his radio on. “Ronon? What’s your status? We need to get a move on.”

The Hammond swam through a barrage of shots like a shark through a school of remoras, iridescent fire eerily beautiful as it danced around them, flaring blue off their shields. But the fire was less than before. Fully half the hive ship’s batteries were disabled.

And yet it had not come without a price. “Forward shields at 40 percent,” Major Franklin shouted over the din of equipment and people on the Hammond’s bridge. “Dorsal shield at 70 percent.”

“Understood.” The captain was at the engineer’s station, Lieutenant Mills having been removed from the bridge with serious burns on his hands when the relays overloaded and sent feedback through the control panels, shorting out with a massive electrical surge. It was the dorsal shield that Sam was worried about. The lighter hull plating Dr. Kusanagi had used for repairs wouldn’t hold against a single shot if the energy shields failed.

The Darts still swarmed, but they were fewer as well. Hocken’s 302s were doing a good job. But even as she glanced up, Sam saw one of them take a wing hit, shearing through the superstructure and clipping the entire wing off. The 302 spun out of control, plumes of gas venting into vacuum. From the wing tank, Sam thought analytically at the same moment that she turned to Franklin. “Beam that pilot out of there!”

“I’m trying, ma’am,” Franklin said, an expression of concentration on his face as he bent over the board.

Sam looked back at the engineering board, toggling power. If she pulled it out of some other systems she could reinforce that dorsal shield…

“The infirmary reports they have Colonel Hocken aboard,” Franklin said, an expression of momentary triumph on his face.

“Good job.”

The helmsman put the Hammond hard over, looping entirely about some arbitrary center point, utter confusion for targeting aboard the hive ship. Every shot in the barrage was a clean miss. That took the stress off the shields for a moment, Sam thought. Good deal.

“Ma’am?” Franklin’s voice rose above the noise. “We have hyperspace windows opening.”

Oh not good, Sam thought, moving quickly from the engineering station to her own where she could get the other readouts. She could see the wavering, as though a fog had crossed the stars, then the northern lights shimmer as the windows opened not so far away at all. She could see for herself. She didn’t have to wait for Franklin to say it.

“We have two additional hive ships and three Wraith cruisers coming out of hyperspace.”

Queen Death’s reinforcements had arrived.

“Sheppard, we’re out of time.” John’s headset crackled with Sam’s voice. “We’ve got six, repeat six, of Queen Death’s ships out here. We’ve got to pull you out of there.”

John looked at Todd bent over the interfaces that controlled the ZPM, still setting up the overload. “Roger, we’ve got you. Give us another minute here. We’re setting up an overload.”

“We may not have a minute.” Sam’s voice was calm, but she’d never say that lightly. “You’ve got until we get in range.”

John looked at Todd. “How long?”

“Almost there,” Todd said, his eyes still closed in the interface.

“Ronon?” John opened his radio again. “Ronon, do you have Rodney? The Hammond is going to have to pull us out.”

“I’ve got a problem,” Ronon said. “Keller’s out cold.”

“Keller?” John looked at Teyla, who seemed equally confused. “Did she get stunned?”

“No, just collapsed. She’s having some kind of seizure.” His voice sounded ragged.

It only took John a second. “Ok. We’re going to work our way back to you. Stay where you are and we’ll come for you. You’ve got the beacons activated, right?”

“Yeah,” Ronon said.

“It is done,” Todd said, lifting his head. The ZPM in its cradle was glowing brightly. “We have four minutes.”

John opened his transmitter again. “Sam? Now is a good time.”

“I can’t do that right now.” The Hammond twisted and dove again, trying to get through. The cruisers had engaged immediately, coming in to form a screen around the damaged hive ship. Each half and a bit the size of the Hammond, they didn’t pack as much punch, but there were three of them. “The Asgard beams are short range.”

“Ventral shield at 50 %,” Franklin said. “Dorsal at 60 %”

Goddamn the dorsal shield. If Sam had been the type to swear on her own bridge she would have about that.

“We are losing the forward shield,” Franklin said.

Sam shook her head. “Reroute the power.” Which meant pulling it out of the others. Not good. She put her hand on the back of the helmsman’s chair, looking out over his shoulder at the battle raging. “Get us in close enough to get our people.”

“Ronon?” John spoke quickly, but his eyes were on the rest of his team and the ZPM now glowing brighter. “Ronon?” There was no answer. “Sam, pull Ronon out first. It’s the cluster of three beacons, not four. He’s got a medical emergency.”

“Standby.” Sam’s voice was clipped and the frequency riddled with static.

“Perhaps we need to find another way off this ship,” Teyla said.

“We will never make it back to the jumper bay in three minutes,” Radek said, scowling at the ZPM. “And there is not much point in going anywhere else aboard the ship, as it will be entirely destroyed as soon as the ZPM reaches critical mass.”

“Sam?” There was a sudden burst of stunner fire at the door, and John dove under a console, dragging Radek down with him. The Wraith had finally discovered they were in the ZPM room. Cadman had flattened herself against the far wall, while Teyla and Todd were behind the interface. The light of the ZPM grew brighter.

“Radek? Is it possible they could stop the overload if they got in here?” John yelled.

“Not a chance,” Radek said from somewhere smooshed beneath him.

John hit the transmitter again. “Ok. Sam, now is a good time.”

“I can’t…” John heard her say, then felt the familiar prickle, saw the familiar shimmer in the air as the beams engaged.

“…get you right now,” Sam finished.

The Hammond pulled up from an attempted dive between two of the cruisers, shields shaking with the strain of a near shield on shield pass. There was the scream of instruments. They’d connected, ventral shield against the cruiser’s shields, a bleed of power as the shields literally forced the ships away from one another, momentum blunted and deflected at the cost of enormous amounts of energy. The Hammond shook, inertial dampeners trying to compensate, and Sam was nearly flung off her feet.

“Damage report!”

“We’ve lost the ventral shield!” Franklin shouted over the screams of alarms. “Dorsal shield at 10 %. Forward shield at 20 %.”

A massive hive ship rotated before the Hammond, weapons blazing at last, Todd’s ship joining the fray. One of the cruisers was caught in its fire, incandescing as shot after shot plunged through the shield gap where the Hammond had damaged it. The shield on shield pass must have told on it as well.

“About time,” Sam said, her hands flying over the engineering station. “That makes it two on five instead of one on six. Sheppard? Ronon?”

Nothing but silence on the frequency. The amount of EM transmissions flying around the battle site effectively acted as jamming.

“Franklin, can you lock onto the radio transmitters on the hive?”

“No, ma’am!” Franklin didn’t look up from his instruments, sweat standing out on his brow, undistracted by the mayhem around him. “We are not close enough for a beam lock. And I am only picking up three signals.”

Sam tried again. “Sheppard?”

Smoke wreathed him, choking him, filling his lungs. The ship was burning, fires eating up all the available oxygen. They’d go out soon. Vacuum would claim their fuel.

Ronon gave Rodney’s legs a shove. Something had gone wrong. That wasn’t a surprise. He couldn’t raise Sheppard and he couldn’t raise the Hammond. It was time to find his own way off the ship while there still was a ship. One more shove, and Rodney was inside the tiny escape pod, head lolling back to expose green veined throat.

Coughing, Ronon dragged himself to his feet. One more time.

The rush of atmosphere caught him with Jennifer in his arms, and he staggered, caught in a maelstrom of air rushing toward some distant hull breach. It was all he could do to hold onto her and a bulkhead at the same time. He couldn’t make any headway. It tore away the smoke, but also the air. One deep breath, two. Overbreathe, because in a moment…

The rush stopped. Somewhere a bulkhead door had slammed shut, some crewman risking life and limb to seal a compartment. For now it held, but the ship was in its death throes.

The air was thin. Ronon held his breath, moving as slowly as underwater. The gravity was fluctuating too. Jennifer’s hair floated out behind her, her eyes rolled up in her head, unconscious. Maybe dying. He had no idea what was wrong. But if they stayed on this ship any longer they’d all be dead.

His vision was getting spots. Not enough oxygen.

A few more steps. He thought it was to the left. Jennifer felt light as a feather. One hand of hers trailed along, as though she had drowned. Oxygen deprived, just as he was.

His vision darkened. He felt the gap with his left hand. Light as this it was easy to shove Jennifer in. Dark. The release must be here.

The door irised shut, self contained systems activating.

Ten seconds. Twelve.

Ronon drank down deep gulps of air. No time to check on Rodney or Jennifer, their bodies sprawled together, dead or living. No time. The hive ship pitched, inertial dampeners failing.

Ronon hit the launch switch, and in a blast of miniature thrusters the escape pod separated, blasting out into fire.

“What in the hell?” John said, the barrel of his P90 rising as he looked around the chamber of the hive ship. He’d felt the tingle of beams, had a moment’s gratitude that somehow Sam had gotten close enough to grab them. Wrong.

Radek blinked owlishly, picking himself up from the floor, while Cadman drew in a breath of astonishment. Only Teyla seemed composed.

And Todd. He turned to a tall Wraith standing at a console, an expression very like pleased approbation on his face. “Well done, Ember.”

“Where are we?” Cadman demanded. “What happened?”

The Wraith at the console didn’t look fazed at all by Cadman being the one with the demands, and Teyla stepped forward, speaking formally to her as though they were barely acquainted. “We are aboard my ship. You have my gratitude for your part in combating treachery.”

John felt like he was still a step behind, but Cadman looked like she was about three steps back.

Teyla turned to the Wraith at the console, and the other three who had hurried in.

“My Queen,” one said, going to one knee. “We are relieved that you are safe.”

“Through the good work of my cleverman, Ember,” she said. “And the foresight of my Consort.” She gave Todd an inscrutable look. John held his tongue. He knew better than to mess with her when she was playing this game.

Teyla turned and inclined her head a few inches to Cadman. “Blades and clevermen, gentlemen all, this is Wreathed in the Plants of Victory, a young kinswoman of She Who Carries Many Things. I tell you this day that my Consort and I should not have escaped from the treachery of Queen Death, whose blades attempted to murder me in the very Chamber of Oath Taking, beneath the most potent symbols of truce! I should be dead this moment were it not for her and the Consort of Atlantis, who had come aboard Death’s ship as part of She Who Carries Many Things’ attack!”

Her voice rang in the chamber. Radek was forgotten in the introductions, but probably he didn’t rank enough to merit an introduction, some hanger on of Cadman’s, who had now been inexplicably raised in status to Carter’s heir.

“Such treachery is unthinkable!” the one kneeling before her said, his voice shaking and his eyes shining, a pretty understandable reaction to being at Teyla’s feet.

“Yes, but it is not finished,” Todd said. “We must go to the bridge. How goes it?”

The one they had called Ember nodded swiftly. “We came in close enough to get a lock. But there are three hive ships and two cruisers. The ship of She Who Carries Many Things has not fired on us.”

“Nor will they with her kinswoman aboard,” Teyla said, sweeping toward the door. “The bridge, gentlemen.” Todd followed at her elbow as though he spent every day doing exactly what Teyla told him.

Cadman boggled at him. “Play it,” John whispered as Radek came up beside them. “Just follow Teyla’s lead. And let’s find out what the hell is going on.”

“Ma’am, we are reading no transmitters aboard the hive ship.” Franklin’s voice cut through the shouting on the Hammond’s bridge. Something had shorted and a fire suppression crew were spraying foam while Sam leaned over the engineering station.

There it went. The dorsal shield was down.

“Pull us out!” she shouted to the helmsman. “We’re naked!” She put one hand to her headset. “Blue flight, this is your recall order. Return to the Hammond immediately. Repeat, all 302s. This is your recall order!”

The Hammond spun about wildly, ducking beneath Todd’s massive hive ship, open dorsal spot uppermost. Lt. Chandler deserved a commendation for this one. This was some serious flying.

“Sheppard? Sheppard?”

One of the 302s was coming in on one thruster, Captain Dwaine Grant. He’d never make it with the Hammond moving like this. Before she could say anything Chandler was on it. Behind the hive ship he could straighten out, let Grant line it up. She heard the line chatter as he slid in, inertial dampeners keeping him from being spread across the landing bay as the 302 touched wing first, skidding in a spray of sparks into the rigged barriers.

And then they were back out from behind the hive ship, rotating as they dodged fire intended for Todd’s hive. The other hive ships had entered the fray, two on one, concentrating on the hive ship rather than the Hammond, remaining cruisers closing.

“Forward shield at zero,” Franklin said calmly. Only the rear shield remained, and it was at 30 percent. All shots now would tell, and they could not take a dorsal hit.

“Sam?” Sheppard’s voice cutting through the static.

“Where are you?”

Static from EM emissions bursting up and down the spectrum. “…on Todd’s hive…” she thought she heard him say.

And then the massive hive ship started pulling back. Three Darts skimmed in, slipping through the closing maw of the Dart bay.

“Chandler, prepare to open a hyperspace window,” Sam said, stalking toward the helmsman’s station, sparks cascading from some overhead conduit.

“…Ronon?” Sheppard’s voice cut in and out.

“Say again?”

“Have you got Ronon?” John asked, almost shouting into his radio as though that would somehow cut through the interference.

And then it was gone.

He spun around, absolute silence on the radio. “What just happened?”

“We have entered hyperspace,” Teyla said, swinging around in a flurry of skirts. Whatever she was saying to Todd was telepathic, as was his reply. About them two dozen Wraith manned the bridge, way too many to take out as they stood, with no cover and Teyla in the middle of the room.

Radek visibly sagged, murmuring something in Czech.

“I don’t understand,” Cadman said.

Todd turned to her. “We cannot take on five ships, even with Colonel Carter as an ally. She was recovering fighters and her shields were down. It was time for us to retreat.”

One of the Wraith, the one who had gone on one knee to Teyla, raised his chin. “And to carry word of Queen Death’s treachery against our Queen to all who will hear!” His eyes shone as he looked at Teyla. “My Queen, this is war!”

“We are confirming the last of the 302s aboard,” Franklin said.

Another explosion rocked the ship, the scream of alarms showing a solid hit. The inertial dampeners compensated, but not before it threw Sam sideways against the helmsman’s chair. She grabbed at the backrest to stay upright. “Damage control?”

“We have hull breaches in A402 and A403,” Franklin said. “Also B402. The compartments are open to space.”

“Can you get an energy shield on it?” Sam snapped. The portside landing gear and the control matrices behind them. There shouldn’t have been personnel in there, but…

“Negative,” Franklin said. “We’ve completely lost the ventral shield.”

One of the cruisers was closing in, ready to beam over boarding parties. Unshielded, they’d have Wraith all over the ship.

“Open the hyperspace window,” Sam said. “Chandler, get us out of here.” It might be too late. She might have already waited too long. She might have already waited too long getting the last 302s aboard…

The forward windows lit with unfathomable fire, the first shockwave shaking the ship even as the hyperspace window opened, Queen Death’s hive ship exploding in a rain of visible light. Debris spread outward, propelled by the blast of the ZPM, gaining on the Hammond running before it like a skiff before a tidal wave.

The window was open, and the Hammond passed through.