He shifted nervously where he crouched next to the bars of the holding pen. Inside he saw the alien woman, Teyla, watching him with serious eyes. He had a feeling she knew exactly what he was thinking, and in a low voice he confided, "We're coming up on fifteen minutes. I thought we'd get a signal by now.
"Go," she said softly, nodding down the corridor.
It was exactly what he wanted to do. And exactly what he couldn't do. "He's my superior officer," he explained quietly. "He gave me a direct order."
Teyla moved closer to the bars, reaching through and seizing his arm. "He needs your help."
"I — "
Her hand tightened on his arm, her dark eyes bright and intense as she fixed him with a long look that spoke directly to his heart. We don't leave our people behind. He'd heard the Major say that; it was why Sheppard had breached a direct order himself and gone back for three guys in Afghanistan. It had been the right thing to do then, and it was the right thing to do now.
With a nod to Teyla — half thanks and half acknowledgment — Ford rose and silently headed into the gloom of the Wraith fortress.
Consciousness returned with a crash as Sheppard found himself slammed hard against a huge, wooden table. In a surreal moment of utter confusion he saw food, plates, and silverware fly into the air and clatter to the floor behind the massive, grotesque figure of the Wraith warrior that had its hand knotted in the front of Sheppard's shirt.
He could hardly breathe for the weight of the creature's hand against his chest, and his head spun so fast from whatever the hell had taken him out that he struggled to focus. But even through his blurred vision he could see that the creature pinning him to the table had no face. It had no damn face!
He recoiled, disgusted, but there was nowhere to go. To his left he heard a soft hiss and turned to see the female Wraith approaching, nursing her wounded hand. It was soaked in sticky, black blood. Her dead gaze drifted to the creature holding him down, and it let go enough for Sheppard to suck in a deep breath. He regretted it the moment the foul Wraith-stench hit his nostrils and he had to repress a gag. Show no weakness, show no weakness…"So," he managed to scratch out, "how's the hand feeling?"
Her lips peeled back from her revolting fang-like teeth and she held up her hand for him to see. "Much better," she taunted.
"Sorry to hear that."
Astonishingly, as he watched, the bullet hole shrank and healed until her pale green skin was unblemished. She stretched her claws as if she might rip out his heart. But her attention was distracted, and her talons reached instead for the tracking device in his vest pocket. She pulled it out and examined it carefully, then turned her black eyes on him. "How did this come to you?"
"I don't remember." And I'll say more than that over my dead body.
The hand on his chest slammed him back hard against the table, cutting off his air. He choked, fingers pulling uselessly at the iron grip around his throat. The female loomed over him, her face blurring as his vision wavered, her hand lifting high and the glint of something gold on her finger catching his eye. A device, a weapon-
A single shot cracked through the air, puncturing the warrior's featureless face with a single, oozing black dot. Its grip on Sheppard's throat loosened, and he turned far enough to see Ford crouched at the entrance. The lieutenant fired again, right on the mark, and this time the Warrior went down.
"Sir, let's go!" Ford yelled.
Still dizzy and disoriented, Sheppard rolled off the table, yelling into his radio, "Light it up!" He dropped to the floor next to the dead warrior. Its black blood was seeping across the ground, steaming in the damp air, and he scrabbled away from its touch just as a piercing shriek sliced like a knife through his head. The female Wraith was calling for reinforcements, her head thrown back like that of a wolf summoning the hunt.
The ground started to shudder as a dozen explosions detonated around the perimeter of the complex, and Sheppard felt a fierce swell of pride. His people. These were his people. Getting his feet under him, he tried to run, but he wasn't fast enough. The Wraith woman lifted her hand again, firing an energy blast right at him. The room was quaking, knocking her off balance, and the blast scorched past his ear as he flung himself to the ground. His hand slid in the blood oozing from the dead warrior, but there was no time for revulsion. The Wraith was stalking him, her distorted face now twisted with a hatred stronger than hunger. Her hand lifted again, closing in for the kill.
Desperate, Sheppard scooted backward. Ford was firing again, more Wraith were pressing into the room, but Sheppard had no weapon and the female Wraith was advancing. Her mouth opened like an animal's maw, and he had nothing to- From the corner of his eye he saw it; the forked weapon of the fallen Wraith warrior. Snatching it up he rammed it into the creature's gut. She screamed, arching her back, and he pressed home the advantage as she fell to her knees. Sick with repugnance Sheppard rammed the weapon right through her, until her stomach was nothing but a sticky fountain of black blood and she collapsed to the ground. "Okay," he grated through his disgust, "that has to kill you."
Letting go of the weapon he sank back, shaky with adrenaline and the after-effects of the Wraith weapon. For a few moments all he could hear was his own rasping breaths and then, slowly, he realized that everything was silent. No more Wraith were coming. Still breathing heavily he turned to Ford, who was staring at the creature at their feet with mingled horror and fascination. "How'd you find me?"
The kid glanced over, attempting a smile. "Tread marks. Standard issue." So much for Ancient tracking devices… "Sir, let's go."
It was a good idea. With effort Sheppard dragged himself to his feet, feeling weaker than he'd ever admit, and stared down at the Wraith. She wasn't dead yet, even after all that. Blood seeped darkly from her mouth, her black eyes misting grey, but she smiled anyway. "You don't know what you've done," she hissed. "We are merely the caretakers for those who sleep. When I die, the others will awaken…" Her failing breath was a whisper, a triumphant whisper. "All of them."
All of them? Her words stirred the hairs at the back of Sheppard's neck as he retrieved the tracking device that lay discarded on the table.
"What's she talking about?" Ford asked nervously. "How many are left?"
Sheppard didn't answer, staring intently at the tracker. All around them he could see white dots blooming, like snow falling on icy ground. Too many to distinguish one from the other. All over, all around. They were surrounded! He did a swift three-sixty, expecting to see Wraith pouring in from all sides, but there was nothing. Only a deep rumble that seemed to be coming from the very depths of the fortress. As if the thing were stirring, coming back to life.
He was breathing fast, heart pumping wildly and clearing his head. He needed a weapon, he needed to find his people and get the hell out. But where were the enemy, where the hell were the enemy? He scanned the room again. Nothing. Or… The soft sound came from far above. Glancing up, he froze.
Above him the honeycomb dome was coming to life. Hundreds, thousands, of individual cells glowed with a sickly orange light, and inside them… Oh God! He started back in horror, but couldn't look away. Inside each cell something writhed, like a maggot struggling to life. Like a thousand maggots. Suddenly an arm stabbed through the side of one of the leathery cells, a Wraith arm, and the entire room filled with a sickening, hungering hiss.
Holy crap, what have we done?
A noise from behind made him jerk around. The fallen Warriors were sitting up, lumbering to their feet like the undead. Ford loosed a volley and put them down again, but for how long?