Fic 8: Acceleration
Acceleration
by Remi Craeg
A splash, then two. Drops of blood falling, accelerating 9.8 meters per second squared, the force of gravity. Rhythmic thudding, echoes in hollow ears. A puddle of sticky red. Overflowing shaking hands.
Get up, someone says. Screams fill the background, past cotton filters. Rough hands pull and yank and prod but nothing moves. Then, silence at last, blackness follows.
A voice again, more shouting. Fire lighting the blackness, suffocating smoke burning taxed lungs.
Get up. Or was it, wake up?
Images form, swimming across eyelids. Breath escapes parted lips. Fingers, toes, arms, legs…present. A weight on her back, hands in her hair, on her legs and on her neck.
Come on, up!
First movements: groaning, fingers to a wounded forehead, violent stomach heaving; all at once.
Easy. Slow.
Knees bend, arms push and she is able to separate her stomach and the earth by a few inches. A pair of arms steady her return to the chaos of reality.
Can you walk? That voice again. Hey! Fingers snap in front of unfocused eyes.
Waves of nausea knock her lucid. "What…Sir?" is all that comes out.
"Carter," he barks like he's said it more than once. "Can you walk on your own? We've got to get back to the gate."
Nodding, she decides, is a very bad idea. "Uh…yeah. I think so. Just a-"
"Teal'c." He orders the larger man to help. Bulky arms slip under her own and she is suddenly lighter and propelled forward.
"Daniel, take point. Let's move out."
"Sir? What happened? Who were all those people?" she wants to know, her weapon at the ready despite her physical injuries.
The Colonel walked quickly, but softly, just behind them. "I'd say the not-so-friendly locals. We're taking this planet off the list." He sounds angry and Sam feels guilty for something she doesn't remember doing. And she feels like she'll puke again before the gate appears.
Just keep walking.
by Remi Craeg
A splash, then two. Drops of blood falling, accelerating 9.8 meters per second squared, the force of gravity. Rhythmic thudding, echoes in hollow ears. A puddle of sticky red. Overflowing shaking hands.
Get up, someone says. Screams fill the background, past cotton filters. Rough hands pull and yank and prod but nothing moves. Then, silence at last, blackness follows.
A voice again, more shouting. Fire lighting the blackness, suffocating smoke burning taxed lungs.
Get up. Or was it, wake up?
Images form, swimming across eyelids. Breath escapes parted lips. Fingers, toes, arms, legs…present. A weight on her back, hands in her hair, on her legs and on her neck.
Come on, up!
First movements: groaning, fingers to a wounded forehead, violent stomach heaving; all at once.
Easy. Slow.
Knees bend, arms push and she is able to separate her stomach and the earth by a few inches. A pair of arms steady her return to the chaos of reality.
Can you walk? That voice again. Hey! Fingers snap in front of unfocused eyes.
Waves of nausea knock her lucid. "What…Sir?" is all that comes out.
"Carter," he barks like he's said it more than once. "Can you walk on your own? We've got to get back to the gate."
Nodding, she decides, is a very bad idea. "Uh…yeah. I think so. Just a-"
"Teal'c." He orders the larger man to help. Bulky arms slip under her own and she is suddenly lighter and propelled forward.
"Daniel, take point. Let's move out."
"Sir? What happened? Who were all those people?" she wants to know, her weapon at the ready despite her physical injuries.
The Colonel walked quickly, but softly, just behind them. "I'd say the not-so-friendly locals. We're taking this planet off the list." He sounds angry and Sam feels guilty for something she doesn't remember doing. And she feels like she'll puke again before the gate appears.
Just keep walking.