Drones, John thought. There were still more than twenty left. Another flight of eight, two and two and two and two, all set for the same coordinates, firing in pairs so that the power required for launch and for the shield breach would be spread out. Two and two, launching and passing through, as, in some separate world, John heard the evacuation order for the outer areas of the city ringing through human ears.
Three on target, a fourth decoyed away…
Four more launches, straight and true through the dark.
The hive reeled, alarms flaring, the main engines offline and systems shutting down, falling away from the plane of engagement. Darts scrambled to get away from it, fleeing the expected shockwave.
Another one down, John thought. Nineteen drones left.
The infirmary was quiet, the calm before the storm. So far the most serious injury was one of the computer technicians who had been caught under a falling rack of equipment as the city rocked under fire. She had a concussion, and Marie was monitoring her closely, although Jennifer thought she'd pull through without too much permanent harm done.
Their only other patient so far was Patterson, who had missed his footing on the stairs and twisted his ankle as he landed. It wasn't broken, only a bad sprain, but it was already swelling as she wrapped a compression bandage around it.
"I should get back to my post," Patterson said, swinging his legs down from the bed, although he winced as his toes touched the ground.
"You should elevate your foot," Jennifer said. "And I'll get you an icepack."
The infirmary shuddered, and she could hear the rattle of boxes shifting in the drug cabinets.
"We're under attack by the Wraith," Patterson said. "I've got to get back out there."
"You are not putting weight on your torn ligaments right now, I'm sorry."
"Look at it this way, son," Carson said, patting the Marine on the shoulder. "If the Wraith make it into the city, we'll all be glad you're in here protecting us."
"I guess so," Patterson said, looking mollified.
It wasn't exactly a lie, but Jennifer and Carson both knew there was little chance of a fight in the city. If the shield held, the Wraith couldn't penetrate it with their transport beams, and if the shield failed, they'd all be dead in the vacuum of space. The Wraith would only come then to salvage what was left.
Still, it seemed to make Patterson feel better to think about what he could do for them.
"I'll go ahead and put a walking cast on it," Jennifer said. "That way if you absolutely have to put your weight on it, you can. But promise me you won't unless you have to."
"Okay, deal," Patterson said.
She opened one of the cabinets carefully in search of the plastic boot, rearranging the boxes so that they wouldn't spill out the next time the city shuddered under fire.
"Attention all personnel," Woolsey said. "We are withdrawing shields from outlying areas of the city. If you are in the areas currently marked red on all city maps, move now. You have ninety seconds to reach the city core."
"Ninety seconds," Jennifer said, shaking her head. That was how they'd lost an entire team the first time they'd flown the city, dead in vacuum as the shield collapsed inward without warning. This time everyone knew not to leave the city core.
Everyone but one small, insatiably curious Siamese kitten. She told herself firmly that Newton had never been outside the central tower, and that he wouldn't choose this moment to start exploring. He was probably hiding under a couch or curled up in a crawl space, as safe as any of the rest of them.
"I'm sure nobody's out there," Patterson said.
"I'm sure everybody's fine," Jennifer said, and started strapping on his plastic cast.
The puddlejumper crept through the battle, cloak and shields at full power, Eva Robinson at the controls. She looked less nervous than Radek felt, but then, he thought, she was a psychiatrist. She'd had a lot of practice hiding unacceptable feelings from her patients. It was reassuring anyway to see her there, frowning slightly in concentration, her hands spread on the controls. Teyla sat beside her, her head moving steadily as she looked from console to windscreen and back again. Radek could see the cruiser in the distance, drifting and apparently dead, and checked his gear again. He had the tools he'd improvised to work on the cruiser they'd salvaged, and his P90 and as much extra ammunition as he could cram into his pockets — when had he become that man, as prepared to fight as he was to do his real job? It didn't matter; what mattered was getting on board the cruiser and either defusing the explosives, or directing it away from the city.
"Hey, Doc." That was Sheffield, the young lieutenant in charge of the Marine detail, scalp and chin shaved bare. "Let me see that schematic again, will you?"
"Yes," Radek said, and turned his tablet so that the other could see the plans on the screen. "We will be coming aboard here, in the shuttle bay, and then these are the corridors that lead to the control room."
Sergeant Ramirez was looking over the lieutenant's shoulder, studying the map for the dozenth time, and Teyla turned in her seat, hearing their voices.
"I think we will take the central corridor if we can. It is the most direct route."
"Yeah," Sheffield said, still swiping at the tablet to get a better view, and Ramirez looked up.
"Any idea yet how many hostiles on board, Ms. Emmagan?"
"Not yet," Teyla answered, her tone utterly tranquil. "Not many, I do not believe."
That would be good, Radek thought. 'Not many' was a number he could live with.
"Teyla," Dr. Robinson said. "We're coming up on the shuttle bay."
The mottled hull loomed in the windscreen, the bay left gaping when the ship was abandoned. A few telltales flickered within, weak power in the conduits, and Teyla closed her eyes for a moment. "There are no Wraith in the bay," she said at last. "And their forcefield is still holding atmosphere. Go ahead and bring her in, Eva."
"All right."
"Sergeant," Sheffield said, and Ramirez nodded.
"Sir!" He waved his hand, forming the Marines up on either side of the tailgate, weapons ready, and Radek stuffed the tablet into his pack. He pulled out the jamming device he'd hastily cobbled together, set it to cover the full spectrum of Wraith transmissions. Eva brought the jumper carefully into the bay, rotating it as she landed so that it was facing out again, ready for a quick getaway.
"Grazyk, Hatton, Ling, stay with the jumper," Sheffield said, and looked at Teyla, who looked at Radek in turn.
"Is the device ready?"
Radek nodded. "Ready to go."
"Go ahead."
Radek flipped the switch and twisted the dial all the way to maximum. That should kill internal transmissions as well as any signal from the hive intended to detonate the bombs, and he watched as the power built. "Ok. We are at maximum power. They should not be able to set off the bombs remotely."
"Excellent," Teyla said. "Lower the tailgate, Lieutenant."
"Yes, ma'am."
Radek braced himself, clutching his P90, but the bay was empty, the lights dimmer even than usual on a Wraith ship. Teyla paused for a moment, considering — communing with the ship? — and then waved them toward the open hatch. "I can sense no Wraith nearby. There are four in the control room, I sense no others."
Sheffield nodded, gesturing to his men, and Radek followed Teyla across the bay. "If no one is watching the explosives, perhaps I should try to defuse them now," he said, breaking into a trot to stay at her heels. "It may still be possible to override the jamming."
"Let us take the control room first," Teyla answered. "If we can first secure the ship, then everything else will be much easier."
Well, yes, Radek thought, but that presupposed they could take the control room without too much trouble. He hurried after Teyla and the Marines, hoping she was right.