The horse climbed the final few steps and leveled out.
“Oh thank God,” Rodney said.
He turned the horse toward the control room and the gardens beyond. The colorful posters on the wall that had fascinated the team on their way in mocked him. He watched them as he passed, but they blurred into a surreal wash of colors and shadows. He turned past the control room and wondered if there was anything he was forgetting, something he should do to the computer system, but by the time the thoughts were fully formed they’d already moved past and into the great hall leading to the gardens and the gates of the city.
Rodney watched it all and frowned. Something was different, something important. Then he laughed, and the laugh became a dry, rasping cough, as he realized the only thing that was different was that he was sitting astride a horse. It all looked smaller somehow. He tried to pull himself together. The stairs leading down into the gardens would probably prove more difficult to manage than those they’d already climbed, and they were approaching fast.
He tried to sit up straighter. He wished he’d taken off the helmet. It was adding its weight to the heat. Sweat dripped from it down his neck and over his face. He felt as if every ounce of liquid was being steamed from his body. He expected to see the steam rising any moment, and to feel his flesh baking. He was staring at his arm in fascination when they reached the top of the steps. Without warning or hesitation the horse dove down the steps.
Rodney screamed. The visor of the helmet, jarred by the sudden motion, dropped over his face, and the armor of the Ancients came to life once more. He felt a sudden energy — and he managed to squeeze the horse with his knees, though he had no idea how he’d known to do it. Teyla started to slip, but Rodney gripped her and found that he could lift her easily back into position.
There was no time to wonder at the seeming magic of the Ancient creature he rode. He turned its head toward the gate and kicked his heels, hoping that it was a universal symbol for go like a bat out of hell. His mount reacted, whether to the nudge from his knees, or the thought from his mind. He knew it didn’t matter. He had new strength, and there was a chance they’d make it to the gate. From there, he’d take his chances. If the others were gone, and the gate was closed, he’d open another one to somewhere, anywhere, and he’d dive through it. He might die wherever he ended up, but he would not die sitting by helplessly as he plunged into a sun.
He held Teyla in place on the neck of the horse easily. Somehow her extra weight no longer mattered. His vision was sharper. They slipped through the broken gate and onto the fields beyond, breaking into a full gallop, and Rodney actually threw back his head and cried out with the sudden rush of power. The faster the horse ran, the stronger he became. The land was rough; Rodney remembered it from their trip in. Though it flew by quickly, he was aware of every variance in the pitch of the ground, or shift in the terrain. It was strange, but he had the odd sensation that the horse was feeding on the freedom, the chance to run.
In the distance, he could just make out the clearing where the gate stood. There was motion there, and for a fleeting moment he thought it might be the team. He tried to call out, but despite the energy the visor and the armor were giving him, he couldn’t bring his parched lips to part and emit sound. In that moment he became aware of just how precarious his situation was. He was empowered by the armor and the visor, but if it failed, or if it was knocked free somehow, he wouldn’t move another inch.
“Swell,” he whispered.
They charged toward the gate, and though he still hoped he’d find the others there, some instinct drove his hand to the handle of his lance and he pulled it from its sheath. As he drew nearer he saw a small crowd gathered before him in a semi-circle. Some held weapons, and two — standing behind them — merely watched, wide-eyed, as he approached.
The gate shimmered, the wormhole open, and Colonel Sheppard stood with one arm rammed into the event horizon — holding the gate open — watching in amazement. The two nearest the DHD came into focus, and Rodney realized it was Saul — and Mara. The others were guards. They held their weapons loosely, obviously feeling the heat and barely able to remain upright.
“Stop him!” Saul croaked, staggering backward and flinging Mara from him. Rodney saw with horror that he was headed for Sheppard. It looked as if he intended to force the Colonel through and close the gate. If he reached it — if he managed to overpower Sheppard in some mad burst of strength — it was over. Rodney reacted without thought.
He raised the lance and a bolt of energy shot from the end of it. It caught Saul in the back and sent the man reeling. He lurched toward Sheppard, who waited for him and thrust him aside at the last moment, keeping his arm inside the event horizon. The others, seeing the fire shoot from the lance, dove for cover. Rodney lowered his head, held tight to Teyla, and with a last burst of speed cut through the parting guards and dove into the heart of the Stargate. Sheppard stepped as far as he could to one side, then, when Rodney was safely through, he followed.
Chapter Thirty-five
Woolsey was jarred from his thoughts by his radio. He jerked up, not sure what had been said, only that there had been a sound.
“What is it?”
“The Daedalus, sir,” came the excited voice. “Colonel Caldwell.”
“Patch him through,” Woolsey said, sitting upright.
“Mr. Woolsey?” Caldwell’s voice crackled over the speaker.
“This is Woolsey,” he said. “Where are you?”
“We’re in position, sir. We’ve scanned ’842 and located your people. From the numbers, it looks like Colonel Sheppard’s team has joined them.”
“Why haven’t they opened the gate?” Woolsey said, stomach knotting. “Why are they still there, if Sheppard is back?”
“My best guess?” Caldwell said, half a question. “They can’t get to the DHD.”
“Can you help?”
“I’ll do what I can,” Caldwell said. “We’re keeping a low profile — don’t want to alert that Hive ship to our presence. As far as I can see, they’ve only sent darts and ground troops to the gate. They don’t know what the threat is, and they aren’t committing fully until they do. That buys me a little time. I’m going to go in and give them some cover fire, but I won’t have long — as soon as I start firing, the Wraith will know I’m there. I have to get out before they can send any serious pursuit.”
“Understood,” Woolsey replied. “Can’t you transport them out?”
“I don’t know. We’ll be moving fast, and under fire — it would be crap shoot. If I can’t get them out safely they’ll have to use the gate.”
“Very well. Do what you can, Colonel. Woolsey out.”
He sat and stared into the distance for a moment, then contacted the control room.
“Stand by to receive both teams,” he said. “Have medical on alert.”
He sat and waited, staring at the wall. There was nothing else he could do, nothing but sit and wait. The matter was in other hands — in capable hands, no doubt, but that didn’t ease his tension. He felt powerless, just sitting there in the calm halls of Atlantis while other men and women fought and, perhaps, died. This, he realized, was the true burden of command; he wondered if he would ever get used to its weight…
“Bring them home, Colonel,” he said with a sigh. “Just bring them all home.”