"Chevron one, encoded," McKay said. Because, well, it just sounded right.
"Rodney…" Apparently Weir didn't agree.
"Fine," he snapped, and quickly entered the rest of the sequence. The symbols spun so fast that, by the time he'd hit the last one on the Ancient DHD, it had locked on the gate and then-
With a whoosh, the Stargate was open to a new and utterly uncharted world.
Sheppard shifted his pack into a more comfortable position as he trailed Sumner and Ford into the gate room. The soft ocean light had been augmented by the iridescent glow of the Stargate, casting everything in shifting blue shadows. The two security teams were already there, just waiting for the order to move out, and the shimmer of the wormhole gave their faces an odd kind of pallor.
Colonel Sumner hadn't spoken a word to Sheppard since Weir had ordered him to join the mission, but the dark looks he'd shot in the Major's direction were eloquent enough; the Colonel was gonna make his life hell and not only because of the Afghanistan thing. Sheppard was no fool, and he could see the tension between Weir and Sumner. What bothered him — what sat like cold lead in his belly — was the fact that he'd become the pawn in their unspoken power struggle.
Just great.
On the plus side, Weir seemed to trust him. So at least he had one friend in the Pegasus galaxy…
He came to a stop in front of the gate, glanced up at the control room and noticed Weir watching them all with an unreadable expression on her narrow face. Was she frightened? She slightly lifted a hand in greeting. Sheppard acknowledged it with a nod and then turned toward the man who stood in front of the Stargate.
Peter Grodin was tall and dusky, with a cut-glass English accent. Next to him was a box of equipment, which Sheppard immediately recognized as night vision goggles. "The MALP reads full viability," Grodin was explaining, "and no immediate signs of activity around the Stargate, but it's pitch black."
Figures. McKay couldn't have chosen a planet with daylight? Sumner dug his hand into the equipment box and tossed a pair of goggles to Ford. He let Sheppard help himself. Subtle.
As John affixed his own goggles, Grodin kept talking, handing out something that looked like a TV remote. "For now," he said, "we're going to use the tried-and-true system for identification of inbound gate travelers." Sheppard turned the unfamiliar device over in his hand. Tried-and-true method… "Everyone know how to use one of these?" Grodin asked.
Reluctantly, Sheppard raised his hand. He deliberately didn't look at Sumner, but could sense the man's pleasure at this small display of ignorance. "Ali, I must've missed that in my briefing."
"It's a GDO."
Well, that cleared that up. "What's GDO stand for?"
Grodin hesitated before he answered, glancing around and then leaning in and speaking in a low voice. "Garage Door Opener, but don't tell anyone."
Sheppard grinned. That sounded like something O'Neill had come up with…
"It sends a radio signal back through the gate with your personal IDC, or identification code," Grodin went on in a louder voice. "Be sure to use it or the shield will remain closed and you…will…"
He trailed off, but Sheppard didn't need the description. "Like a mosquito zapper. Got it."
Abruptly, Sumner pushed past them, ending the conversation. He didn't look at anyone, eyes fixed on the gate. "Let's move out."
Tucking the GDO into his vest, Sheppard once more glanced up at Weir. She looked pale and worried in the blue light. It was the first time she'd ordered her people into harm's way, and that was a tough moment for anyone. Especially a civilian. Trying to reassure her, Sheppard offered her a thumbs-up. A ghost of a smile touched her lips, and with that he turned and followed Sumner, Ford and the two security teams through the Stargate.
The ride was as wild as ever, but a lot shorter than the trip from home. Almost before he knew it, he was stepping out the other side into a world of darkness. Every sense was on alert as his feet crunched on dead leaves and twigs. A forest. Through his goggles he could see trees, and the ghostly forms of the rest of the team crouching in the shadows.
In silence, Sumner signaled them to spread out, then move out. Still keeping low, Sheppard dodged to his right and kept on Sumner's six as they began to make their way through the dark forest.
Suddenly Sumner held up his fist and they all froze. Waiting. Listening… And there it was — a sound. It was close, and closing fast. Someone — or something — was crashing through the undergrowth. Visions of three-headed aliens crowded in, and Sheppard raised his weapon. We come in peace… Yeah, right. The sound was behind them now, and he turned, heart racing. There was more than one…
And there it was! A shadow darted out of the trees thirty yards ahead, a blur of dark on dark. Small, fast, and creepy. Sheppard signaled to Ford and they split up, circling to approach from opposite directions.
Alone in the woods, Sheppard's ears strained to hear over the rasp of his own breathing as he stalked through the undergrowth. A twig snapped somewhere ahead of him, the sound of a scuffle and a high-pitched scream echoed through the night. Sheppard started running.
In a small clearing up ahead he could make out Ford struggling to yank off his night-vision goggles while a short figure, the source of the scream, cowered before him. "Shh! It's okay," Ford was hissing urgently. "It's okay, I'm-"
Suddenly another shape barreled from the trees, dressed in long black robes and some kind of monstrous mask. It broadsided the screaming creature and knocked it flying.
"Please don't hurt us!" a small voice piped.
Ford was staring, stunned, and before he could react Sheppard slid into the clearing, weapon raised. "What we got?"
The robed creature reached up and pulled off its mask.
"It's just a kid," said Ford.
So much for the alien theory. It was a kid, a boy, maybe twelve years old, staring at them with wide, terrified eyes. Two kids, actually. The other one was picking himself up from the floor, clinging to his friend.
Suddenly, someone else rushed into the clearing — a man, who stopped short at the sight of Sheppard, Ford and their weapons. "Please!" he said, eyes darting nervously between the soldiers and the kids. "They were just playing."
Sheppard was about to reassure him, when the man froze. His eyes went wide with shock, and for a moment Sheppard expected something monstrous to storm the glade. But it was only Sumner, stalking forward with his weapon raised and aimed. "Everything okay, Sheppard?"
"Yessir," he answered quickly. "Couple of kids is all." He turned back to the man — the kids' father? "We're not here to hurt anyone." And then with a swift glance at Sumner's weapon, added, "Right, sir?"
For a moment the Colonel didn't move, eyes locked with Sheppard's. Another challenge… But after a moment he backed off, and John returned his attention to the stranger. He was about forty years old, hair like damp straw and a beard to match. His clothes were homespun and didn't seem to indicate anything approaching advanced technology. Sheppard wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. If they were looking for a ZPM, he doubted these people had one…
"I…" the man began hesitantly. "I am Halling."
Okay… Sheppard frowned and shifted apologetically. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."
Sumner looked like he could barely contain his irritation. "It's his name." You idiot, was the subtext.
Oh! "Hailing!" Sheppard repeated, ignoring Sumner's roll of the eyes. "Nice to meet you."
Halling examined them dubiously, taking in their weapons and uniforms. "Are you traders?"
"Sure," Sheppard agreed, casting a quick look at the Colonel to make sure. "Friendly neighborhood traders." It was as good a cover as any. If push came to shove, he could always trade his MREs…