Lorne was reaching for his radio headset before Zelenka finished talking. “Colonel Sheppard?” With Woolsey out of the city, he didn’t have to worry about whether technically he should have been calling Woolsey first.
“This is Sheppard. What’s the problem?”
“We have a situation. You’d better get up to the control room. It seems someone’s activated some programs in our computer system that Dr. Zelenka is having trouble shutting down.”
“I’m on my way,” Sheppard said, and then before he cut off his radio, “They’ve got problems upstairs.” Lorne didn’t think that last was addressed to him. He refrained from speculating about who it might in fact have been addressed to, on the grounds that refraining from speculating about things like that was part of his job.
“Oh, not good,” Zelenka said, and followed it in Czech with what sounded like something heartfelt. “We have systems shutting down — internal sensors, power to the weapons chair — ”
“Get that thing shut down,” Lorne said.
“Yes, I am trying — ”
“What the hell is going on?” Sheppard said, tearing up the stairs into the control room, wearing sweatpants tucked into the tops of his boots and a flannel shirt he hadn’t bothered to tuck in at all.
“This is Rodney’s work,” Zelenka said. “His programs are shutting down our security systems, and I cannot stop it. I am afraid we are going to lose the iris.”
“Security teams to the gateroom,” Sheppard said into his radio. “Sound a citywide alarm.” Salawi’s hands moved uncertainly over her keyboard, but it was only seconds before the alarm sounded. “Put me on citywide,” Sheppard said, and waited for Salawi’s quick nod before he went on. “This is Colonel Sheppard. Assume that as of now we are facing an attack by unknown hostiles who are trying to get through the Stargate. I want security teams on full alert — ”
Zelenka breathed a curse in Czech, all the more alarming because his tone was hushed rather than heated. “The iris is shutting down,” he said. “I am trying, but — ”
“God damn it,” Sheppard said, heading back down the rear stairs and drawing his pistol in one motion. Lorne was already moving in the same direction. Rear stairs instead of main ones, because they weren’t in body armor, and that sweeping marble staircase gave anyone coming through the Stargate a lovely clear shot —
He could hear the electric crackle of the iris collapsing, see the Stargate rippling blue and unobstructed as he came down the stairs. Below in the gate room, two Marine teams were already in position, leveling weapons on the Stargate. One of the Marines handed a P90 up to Sheppard, who holstered his pistol and cradled the rifle without taking his eyes off the gate.
The room lit with bolts of stunner fire, spitting through the gate like a lightning storm, and the Marines opened up, the first of the attackers — Wraith, they were definitely Wraith — crumpling under the barrage. There were more coming behind them, though, charging forward over the bodies and leaping to the sides, masked drones heading straight for the Marine teams.
Their bodies jerked as the bullets hit them, but too many of them staggered without falling and kept on walking. Lorne could feel his blood run cold with the same crawling sense of wrongness it always gave him, watching them take more damage than anyone should be able to and keep moving, heads whipping around inhumanly fast at each new burst of gunfire.
“We have Wraith inside the city,” Sheppard said over the radio. “All teams — ” The thunder of gunfire drowned out his words. The gate was still open, more and more Wraith stepping through. Lorne caught a glimpse of another security team taking up position at the entrance to the gateroom, but he wasn’t sure how long they could possibly hold.
“Radek!” Sheppard yelled between bursts of fire. “We need that iris!” Lorne couldn’t hear Zelenka’s answer, but he didn’t think Sheppard liked it.
Stunner fire crackled against the wall, too close, and Lorne moved out of the way fast, still firing, taking careful aim before each shot. He was very aware that he only had one spare clip on him. It would have been nice for the Wraith to give them a little warning before they invaded. He would have packed differently —
A series of distant metallic clangs rose over the thunder of weapons fire. Zelenka must have put the city into a full lockdown, shutting all the security doors. Good for keeping the Wraith confined to the area around the gateroom. Not so great for getting more reinforcements.
Lorne scrambled forward, ducking to the side of the main staircase, using it for what cover it could provide. He leaned out for a moment, just long enough to see that there were male Wraith coming in behind the drones, their faces unmasked, hanging back in tight groups. He was about to duck back under cover when he glanced over at Sheppard and saw his expression, his eyes wide with shock and the muzzle of his weapon lowering a bare few inches.
“Rodney!” Sheppard called out. “Rodney, damn it — ”
He was dressed like a Wraith, all in black in a dark coat that swept to his knees, and his hair was stark white, but Lorne still recognized him as soon as he saw him. Rodney was pointing with one clawed hand, snapping some instruction, and then Lorne was distracted by one of the Marines falling almost at his feet. He crouched, grabbing the man’s rifle and swinging it up as one of the drones reached for him, feeding hand outstretched, and then all he could do was fire.
Radek ducked as another stun bolt crashed against the console behind him, hunching his shoulders as though that could somehow protect him. New lines of code were scrolling past, and on Salawi’s screen alarms glared yellow and red. The shield was down, the chair was offline, power was fluctuating as a program tried to override the jury-rigged controls of the naquadah generators; he’d managed to get the internal sensors back up, but he didn’t know how long he could hold them.
“Lockdown complete,” Salawi said, her voice a little higher than normal, but amazingly steady under the circumstances. “Except — the transport chambers are still working.”
“Damn it,” Radek said, and hit keys, calling up another screen. The P90s fired below him in the gateroom, the concussion splitting the air, and he ducked his head further, not daring to look.
Radek shook his head in dismay and glanced back at the screen. Yes, some of the transport chambers were still working, and he was getting contradictory readings on the lockdown, too, as though maybe some of the doors hadn’t properly sealed themselves…
He found the screen he wanted, entered the override code he and Sam had devised, and launched a program that he hoped would kill at least some of Rodney’s subroutines. Another bolt crackled against the consoles behind him, and then another, and he repressed the desire to cover his head. In a minute, in less than a minute, he told himself, in seconds only you will dive under the console and be safe, but now there is this program to run, and that one, and power to cut here if you can —
“Dr. Zelenka!” Salawi slammed against him, knocking him out of his chair, fell on top of him as they tumbled beneath the console. Radek grabbed for his glasses — thank God, intact — and she rolled away. Behind where he had been sitting, the console shimmered with the fading blast of a stunner.
“Radek!” That was Sheppard, a voice in his ear, and Radek pulled himself upright.
“Yes.”
“The shield! Can you get it back?”
“No. I’m sorry.” He risked a glance at the screen anyway, on his knees peering over the edge of the console like a child playing peek-a-boo. “No.”
“Damn it — ” Sheppard’s words were cut off in a burst of machine gun fire. “Get your people out of there, we can’t hold them — ”