"Sir!" Ford yelled. "We need to leave!"
He wasn't gonna argue with that. With one final glance at the waking nest of Wraith, Sheppard began to run, Ford close on his heels. The corridors were still dark, despite the ominous rumbling, and the further away from the nest, or the hive, the quieter it became. All he could hear was the beat of their running feet and the rasp of his breathing, but he knew they were right behind them. They had to be. He risked a quick glance at the tracking device, and saw that he and Ford were alone for the moment. For now. That was good, they could- Suddenly a small group of bandits appeared on the screen, dead ahead.
"Hold up!" he hissed to Ford, diving for a defensive position. Ford hunkered down on the opposite side of the corridor. Perhaps if they could take the Wraith by surprise…
Suddenly the air was filled with distant shrieking, just like the noise the female Wraith had made, only this time it was a discordant choir of voices. Thousands of voices. They were coming. They were coming for him and his team. Ahead he could hear footsteps approaching and signaled the countdown to Ford. Three, two, one. Go!
As one they turned out into the corridor, ready to fire and- Teyla stood before him, flanked by her people and two security officers, all frozen with shock.
Thank God…
Despite the situation Teyla seemed more composed than either of Sheppard or Ford, and was the first to speak. "Colonel Sumner? Toran?"
He shook his head. "No."
She absorbed the news without surprise or comment — maybe she'd known all along that his rescue attempt would be futile — and together they headed out. It felt like running ahead of the flood. You can't see the water coming, but you can hear it, and you know it's right there and if you let it overtake you, you're dead. The corridors were empty, but the deep rumbling and muffled screeching didn't abate for a second. The Wraith were coming.
At last Sheppard broke from the damp corridors and into the chill air of the planet. The faint scent of pine and organic decay was an overwhelming relief as he led them all slipping and sliding down the rocks they'd climbed only a few hours ago. Over the tops of the trees he could see a giant red sun sinking behind the mountain fortress, and- Oh crap.
His radio squawked. "Major!" It was Stackhouse, back at the ship, and he sounded edgy. "The Jumper is secure for the moment, but we have a big problem."
"I know." Sheppard could see it for himself, he could see the Wraith ships pouring out of the fortress on all sides — black darts against the blood-red sunset, looking for a kill. "We're on our way."
He didn't have to issue any orders, they all just hightailed it through the trees as fast as possible. But he knew it wouldn't be fast enough because the Wraith weren't human — they were faster, stronger, more deadly. They'd be on his team before they got anywhere near the Jumper. He needed a line of defense. "Ford!" he barked. "Take our six." It felt like giving the kid a suicide mission, but he had no choice. "I'll get these people to the Jumper." He was the only one who could fly it.
The lieutenant didn't hesitate. "Be right behind you!"
Forging ahead, Sheppard sensed Ford fall back. But not just Ford. Out the corner of his eyes, he saw Teyla slow. He almost yelled at her to pick up the pace, but she didn't have to follow his orders. And she knew what she was doing. She knew the Wraith, which was half the battle. He let her go, let her stay behind to help her own people while he led the rest of them to safety. He hoped.
It was quiet, alone in the trees without the gasps and heavy footfalls of the others. Even the animals seemed to be quiet. No birds, no rustling in the leaves. Maybe they didn't exist on this planet, or maybe — like him — they sensed something in the air. A creeping, ice-cold danger. Overhead a lone Wraith ship screeched past, but didn't stop, and it didn't spot him. Ford tracked it with his weapon, but held his fire. They were escaping, not engaging the enemy.
He sped up, satisfied that they weren't beingSomething flickered, just on the periphery of his vision. With a start, he swung his P90 around and loosed a short burst into the trees. It echoed in the eerie silence. His heart was hammering now, he could hear it pulsing in his ears, obscuring other sounds. Sounds of the enemy. It felt like they were all around, creeping through the trees. Stalking him. Their dead white faces, ravening mouths… His fingers clenched hard around his weapon, itching to sweep the whole area, to flush them out. He spun abruptly, feeling eyes on his back. Nothing. Nothing but trees and shadows.
He was getting disoriented now. Which way had he come? Which way was the Jumper? Damn it. He knew better than this. He knew-
A shadow crossed right in front of his path. Heart leaping into his throat, he emptied half a clip before a hand grabbed the weapon. He yelled, about to ram its butt into the face of the enemy when-
"There is nothing there." It was Teyla, holding his weapon fast and staring him right in the eye.
Breathing hard, he said, "I saw something in the trees."
"Only what the Wraith wish you to see. Firing your weapon will reveal our position." She released her hold on the P90 and turned to leave. "Come on!"
Shaken, barely trusting his own eyes anymore, Ford focused on Teyla's lithe figure darting through the trees. She was sure and confident of the way, and he simply followed. At times like this, a little local knowledge went a long, long way.
Sheppard barely let himself believe that they'd made it as he dragged the exhausted escapees out of the forest and into the small clearing. The Jumper was right there, Stackhouse and his men deployed all around, fingers twitchy on their weapons. He rose from cover as Sheppard approached, nodding a greeting. But as Sheppard jogged toward the Jumper, he noticed Halling and the others holding back. They were staring at the ship in shock, or was it awe? Either way, they didn't have time for it. "Go on, get in," he urged.
They didn't need asking twice, but as the shattered men and women packed into the small hold of the Jumper, Halling was looking around in sudden concern. "Where's Teyla?"
Sheppard glanced back the way they'd come. He gave a mental count of five, but there was nothing. It stank like trouble, and he'd be damned if he left anyone behind on this hellish world. He wouldn't leave a dog behind for the Wraith. He glanced over at Stackhouse — at the street sweeper he was holding — and gestured for the weapon. It felt good in his hands, heavy and powerful. A P90 might not take out the Wraith, but even they couldn't stand up to this damn thing.
"Everyone on the ship," he ordered. "Lock it up and wait. I'm not gonna be long." One way or the other, he'd be back to fly these people out.
Ignoring his fatigue, Sheppard raced back through the trees the way they'd come. He could hear the whine of Wraith ships overhead, but beneath the trees he had some cover and they didn't spot him. He could see the shadows though, flickering at the edge of his vision. Mindful of Teyla's warning, he payed no attention to them. Mind games. Just games. He kept moving, his run slowing to a cautious creep the further he got from the Jumper. They couldn't be too far back, Ford had been covering their six, not on recon. He'd have stayed pretty close. But if there'd been trouble…
A Wraith ship passed low overhead, its engine noise setting the leaves shaking, and suddenly a bright white beam lanced down through the trees. Sheppard's heart jolted. If it had a target, it could only be Ford and Teyla. Damn it! The image of the maggot-like Wraith, writhing in their cells, filled his head and he lurched into a low run. He refused to let them be taken again — he'd put a bullet in their heads before he let them die like Sumner.
The scoop beam was cutting through the forest, and Sheppard ducked behind a wide trunk as it skimmed past him. He turned, following its trail, just in time to see Teyla dive sideways into Ford and push him out of its path. The ship was looping around for another go as Teyla and Ford struggled to their feet, and the beams were hitting the ground like tracers, heading inexorably toward them. It was over, it was over unless…