ltlj
in
sga_flashfic
Inundation by ltlj (Strange New Worlds & Alien Geography Challenge)
Title: Inundation
Author: ltlj
Rating: PG13, Gen, 3200 words
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, no money made.
Summary: The flood and the subsequent mudslide that had buried the gate were pretty bad, but at least the rain had stopped. And nobody was dead.
ETA: lenkti did a great manip for the story here.
"It would make a great vacation spot," John said. It was night, and they were sitting on a wide white stone platform, surrounded by water. The sky was heavily streaked with clouds but there were three moons of varying sizes, their light falling intermittently on the city spread out before them. The white stone of square pylons, columned walkways, and towers with odd spiral curves gleamed above the dark expanse of the water. The wind had died away with the light rain, and the quiet lap of the waves against the stone was soothing and homey.
Sitting next to him, Teyla smiled wryly. "It is beautiful. If we were not in danger of drowning..."
"You people are delusional," Rodney muttered from John's other side, and sneezed.
"Yeah, there's that," John agreed. "You okay back there, Ronon?"
From inside their makeshift tent, Ronon growled, "No."
The flood and the subsequent mudslide that had buried the gate were pretty bad, but at least the rain had stopped. And nobody was dead.
Yamato had hung back to shove Dr. Zelenka up the stairs, and been slammed into the wall by the wave and almost washed away. Ronon, fortunately, had dived back in, made a wild grab, and caught his ankle. Then they had had to get Ronon and Yamato out of the water, but Ronon was larger and still conscious, so it hadn't taken long. John and the other Marine, Andrews, had only had to do artificial respiration on Yamato for less than a minute before he revived. All in all, they had been pretty damn lucky. They had reached the stone platform before the bulk of the tsunami, flash flood, small tidal wave or whatever the hell it was, not even minus one of their six archeologists.
When they were first setting up this mission, John had worried about the inclusion of Dr. Rohmer, who was in his fifties and probably too old to be out here. Having seen Rohmer throw Dr. Rousseau over his shoulder and sprint up the sixty feet of uneven stone stairs with a killer wave licking his heels, John wasn't worried anymore. Sometimes you forgot archeologists spent most of their early careers hauling buckets of rocks. Once the rain had started, they had also been handy in quickly constructing two makeshift tents out of waterproof tarps, which was about all they had left of their supplies.
Now Yamato was tucked into one of the tents, wrapped in the only dry sleeping bag and several foil blankets. Ronon, with a broken wrist and massive bruises, was huddled in there with him, wet and in pain and pissed off at the world.
Zelenka ducked out of the other tent, calling, "Dinner is ready!"
Rodney twisted around, frowning. "Dinner? We have food?"
"We salvaged five damp MREs and two power bars, and combined them all together." Zelenka shrugged eloquently. "It's sort of a casserole."
"Sounds great," John said, over Rodney's groan.
They ate in front of their tents, with a fantastic view of the ruined city and the water limned in a triple helping of moonlight. A few tea packets and a can of sterno had also survived, and Rousseau made tea for Yamato. He had been coughing, which was worrying John a lot. None of their medical kits had made it onto the platform, and they didn't have anything to treat pneumonia or even a cold. Rodney had contributed a packet of Tylenol, which had been stuck in his tac vest, and they had given that to Ronon.
They had missed their last check-in by a few hours, which meant Atlantis had dialed in to try to contact them, and their attempts had probably just caused the wormhole's backwash to vaporize a lot of mud and water, which had immediately been replaced by more mud and water, and they couldn't even get a radio signal through. John wasn't too worried about the mud. He was pretty certain the jumper's drones could clear the slide, at least long enough for them to get through the wormhole. It was getting to the jumper he was worried about.
"We should have brought a boat," Dr. Jahnavi said, glumly surveying the expanse of water.
Zelenka waved an arm toward the flooded city. "We have boat! Is in jumper! Do prdele!"
"I know what that means!" Jahnavi snapped.
"No fighting, kids," John said absently. He flicked on his P-90's light, checking the high water mark Rodney had drawn against the side of the stairs. "Being flooded wouldn't hurt the inside of the jumper, right?"
Rodney grimaced, poking unhappily at his cup of crunchy casserole. "No, water in the compartments shouldn't effect it at all. Any Ancient components that would be damaged are carefully sealed. If we can get into the damn thing without drowning, we'll be fine."
John nodded to himself. "Then we can open it and get inside while it's still under water. So--"
"So we're not dead," Zelenka finished.
"That is always a relief to hear," Teyla added grimly.
"Are we doing this now?" Rodney demanded. "Because one of you is going to have to swim out there, and in the dark, it's going to be insanely dangerous."
"No, not now." John had been inwardly debating that for a while. Rodney was right about the insanely dangerous part. The flood had carried tree trunks and a lot of debris, and much of it was still swirling around in the current, barely visible in the bright moonlight. The water level hadn't risen in the past hour, so they had some leeway, and it was only about five hours until dawn. Waiting would lower the danger level of the swim considerably, and also give Atlantis some more time to try to get to them. "In the morning."
John put himself, Rodney, and Teyla in the smaller tent with Ronon and Yamato, so he could keep a closer eye on them, and left Andrews in the other tent with the archeologists and Zelenka. "It's soaking wet in here," Rodney said, shoving wet packs around. "And I know that's a stupid observation, of course I know that!"
"Nobody said anything, Rodney." John knew Rodney had been on edge all day, and he didn't think the flood had helped.
"I was going to say something." Ronon's voice was rusty and thick. Great, John thought. He's getting sick, too. It was a pleasant cool night, but he wished it was tropically warm.
Then Andrews poked his head inside their tent flap. "Colonel?" The trepidation in his voice wasn't encouraging. "Sir, we can't find Dr. Zelenka."
John stared. Seriously, it was a fifty foot platform. "What the hell do you mean you can't find--"
A grumpy voice interrupted from the back of the tent, "I'm not lost. I'm right here."
John twisted around, flashing his light into the back. Zelenka was crammed into the back, behind Ronon. John had thought the tent was more crowded than it should have been. "What are you doing in here?"
"This tent is better," Zelenka muttered, disappearing under the edge of a foil blanket.
"That's fine, Radek, give us all a heart attack," Rodney grumbled.
"I was sitting right here, Rodney," Zelenka pointed out.
"Sorry, sir." Andrews withdrew in confusion. Teyla had the first watch and was sitting near the steps where she could keep an eye on the water mark. She watched him go back into the other tent, shaking her head incredulously.
"Radek, what the hell?" John persisted. "You know better than to leave your team."
"I know, I know," Zelenka said from under the foil. "But I feel this tent has a better chance of survival."
Okay, not what John wanted to hear. "What?"
"The archeologists are all talking about death and Ascension, is very creepy," Zelenka's voice protested. "And look how long it took them to notice I was missing!"
"That's true," Rodney admitted reluctantly. "There aren't exactly a lot of short Czech engineers in the other tent for him to mill around with and get lost."
"God. Damn. It," John said. He ducked out from under the flap to go next door and count archeologists. "Andrews!"
They were all there, so John didn't shoot Andrews. But they did combine both tarps into one tent.
***
John woke to a hollow-eyed Ronon leaning over him, growling, "If we don't get out of here today, I'm going to kill McKay."
From somewhere behind John's head, Rodney's voice snapped, "If we don't get out of here today, I'm going to let you kill me."
Zelenka muttered, "Always you make promises, Rodney, and never keep them."
John had gotten a little sleep, in between waking up for the watch changes and for people whispering loudly "Don't disturb the colonel!" while standing on him. He sat up on his elbow to squint out the open tent flap. It was dawn and half the sky was still blue-black with storm clouds. Most of the tall feathery plume trees around the plaza and this section of the city had survived the wave, and they stood above the water, their soft emerald green foliage vivid against the sky.
"Whatever." John shoved himself upright. "Let's get this over with."
Now that the debris had had a chance to settle, the water was clear as glass, with only floating plume tree fronds to mar the view down to the paving. The jumper was clearly visible, some distance off the back of the platform, along with the submerged buildings, columns, and pylons.
"I'll do it, sir," Andrews volunteered, leaning out to eye the water thoughtfully.
"No, I'll take this one," John said. Andrews had the Ancient gene and could fly a jumper, but he was new to Atlantis and John wasn't certain how good he was in the water. He would rather do this himself.
John was stripping off his tac vest when Andrews said, "Sir!" Ronon growled, "Sheppard!" Teyla said, "John!" And Rodney said, "Wow, that's big."
John looked up.
High above, outlined against the gray rolling clouds, a large creature was circling. John squinted up at it, quickly revising his estimate of hawk-sized to condor-sized. Possibly larger than condor-sized. A lot larger. It was bright green and had bat-like wings, that was all John could make out. It was still high up, and didn't seem to be turning back for a better look. Hopefully it would just keep going on its way. He began, "Don't make any sudden moves--" just as Dr. Sorenson waved at it. "--especially that. Dr. Sorenson--"
The creature waved back.
Sorenson stared. "Oh. Oh, I didn't think that was going to happen."
***
As they all huddled inside the tent, John began, grimly, "Dr. Sorenson--"
Sorenson protested, "I just thought that perhaps it was sentient, and--"
"We all know that being sentient doesn't mean it doesn't want to eat us!" Rodney shouted.
Sorenson protested again, "Yes, but--"
Through gritted teeth, John said, "If the water rises again, we're in trouble. More trouble. So let's leave the aliens alone. Don't wave to them, don't shoot at them, don't make any attempt to attract their attention."
All the archeologists looked glum, but nobody argued. Sorenson drew breath to protest again, but three of the others glared him into submission.
"John," Teyla said softly from the edge of the tent, where she and Andrews were watching the flying thing with binoculars. "It has flown away towards the west."
"Right." John turned back to the tent flap. "Let's get this over with, take two."
Out on the platform, John stripped down to t-shirt and pants. He had considered going all the way to boxers, and if it had just been his team here, he would have. But the attentive audience made him self-conscious, and if he didn't pull this off, wet clothes would be the least of his problems.
"Careful," Rodney said, wincing as he eyed the water. "At least it's clear."
"There could still be giant...water...things," Zelenka contributed worriedly.
"I should go with you," Ronon said, cradling his broken wrist and looking depressed. He sounded as congested as Yamato, and Teyla patted his back sympathetically.
"Next time," John told him, and dove off the platform. The water was cool but not breathtakingly cold. He swam out from the platform until he could see the wavering shape of the jumper below him. They had landed on a plaza, next to a spiral design made of turquoise-colored stone set into the paving. With the smooth white paving and the tile, the jumper looked like it was parked on the bottom of a large expensive swimming pool. Here goes. John pulled the remote out of his velcroed pocket and triggered it.
The ramp dropped smoothly, the released air bubbling up to the surface. Loose items followed it, including a couple of field packs and a tablet. John winced, but once they had the jumper raised it wouldn't take long to retrieve this stuff, and most of it seemed to be floating.
The bubbling stopped, and John took a deep breath and went under, swimming down toward the jumper. He was about halfway there, focused on the open square of the hatch, when he caught movement in his peripheral vision.
John looked, and his heart froze. Coming toward him, coming toward him rapidly, was a snake. A big fucking giant snake, maybe twenty feet long and as big around as a Great White shark, dark scales vivid against the white paving, a spiny ridge along its back and a jaw the size of Wisconsin. Snakes, John thought, stunned. Snakes are always a problem after floods. He had forgotten that little fact.
John was too far from the jumper, and too far from the platform. He twisted, kicking hard, heading back up as fast as he could and not nearly fast enough. He broke the surface, hearing horrified yells from the others as they spotted the thing. John's mind was a desperate blank as he swam for the platform, driving himself through the water with every ounce of strength he had and knowing it wasn't going to be enough. He heard Ronon's gun fire, then two P-90s open up, and knew in despair he was too far away, the creature wasn't in range, and there was no way he could get close enough.
Something slammed into him, like being clipped by a speedboat; it grabbed his leg, yanked him under. Water flooded his lungs and, half-conscious, John had time to think, that's it. Then something big and green hit the water, he saw claws grip the snake's body and crush it down. The snake's head whipped up, releasing John, as dark blood colored the water.
Then something grabbed John again, yanking him up and out of the water.
He landed abruptly on dry stone, choking on a lungful of water. Something shoved him, rolling him over face down, and that let him cough it up. He gasped in a blessed water-free breath, and managed to shove himself up on his arms. That was when he saw the shadow surrounding him. Oh. Oh, crap. Moving slowly, he looked over his shoulder.
The flying alien was crouched over him, head cocked, round multi-faceted eyes studying him with curiosity. Close up it looked like a combination of reptile and insect, a far more harmonious combination than the Wraith's insect-human mix. It had scales on its wiry body, in jewel-bright shades of green, and the underside of its bat-like wings had a white translucent tracery that made John think of dragonflies.
In his peripheral vision, John could see a tableau. Teyla was in front, arms flung out in the signal for "don't shoot." Her expression was simultaneously terrified and hopeful. Rodney might have been posing for a statue of "horror-stricken astrophysicist dies of heart attack." Zelenka had his hands over his eyes. Ronon was aiming his weapon, one-handed, his face hard with fury. Andrews was pointing his P-90, waiting tensely. The archeologists were all snapping photos.
The alien flashed a look at them, then leapt into the air. Heart pounding, John pushed himself to his feet in time to see it dive into the water again, and come up gripping the dead snake. It flew away to land on one of the big pylons, and started to methodically eat the snake.
Then everybody was yelling, and exclaiming, and John found himself surrounded by Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon. "You were in a giant snake's mouth!" Rodney shouted furiously, like John had done it deliberately to piss him off.
"I know," he said, still watching the flying...person. It had huge teeth.
"You are not hurt?" Teyla demanded. She touched his arm worriedly. "We saw--"
"Yeah, no." John shook his head. The snake hadn't had teeth, just bone-crushing jaws. John assumed his leg was still all there or he wouldn't be standing on it.
"That was lucky," Ronon summed it up succinctly.
"No kidding," John said, and then he had to lie down for a while.
***
John was sitting on the platform with Rodney and Ronon, watching Andrews swim out to the jumper. The archeologists were still taking photos of the city while they could. The sun had broken through the clouds, gleaming off the clear water and the white stone. The three moons still hung huge in the blue sky, and the place was even more heartbreakingly beautiful.
Teyla stood nearby, shading her eyes as she kept watch on the flying alien. It was finishing up the last of its snake, and seemed to intend to hang around. John wondered if it wanted to keep an eye on them or was hoping that Andrews would attract another snake it could save for dinner.
Teyla's voice was tinged with regret when she asked, "Do you think there will ever be time to come back here?"
John knew what she meant. They could send an engineering team back to move the gate to a more stable spot. This place had potentially friendly non-human aliens, and architecture that made the archeologists come in their pants. And John had to admit to himself that if you were going to explore an alien planet for the sole purpose of seeing cool stuff, this one would be high on the list. But the truth was that all they had seen here were ruins, with no sign of useful technology. "I don't know. Probably not...for a while."
"There's nothing here." Rodney said miserably. He rubbed a hand over his face. "And there's no time."
He sees it too, John thought. It must have been wearing on Rodney since they had arrived. This planet and all its potential, all the wonderful possibilities they had to turn their backs on. "We'll come back," John said, surprising himself a little. "When the Wraith are dead, this place is first on the list."
Rodney made a "humph" noise, but he still sounded a little hopeful.
Teyla's smile was warm. "I will hold you to that."
Out in the water, the jumper broke the surface like a whale, shining in the sun.
end
Author: ltlj
Rating: PG13, Gen, 3200 words
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, no money made.
Summary: The flood and the subsequent mudslide that had buried the gate were pretty bad, but at least the rain had stopped. And nobody was dead.
ETA: lenkti did a great manip for the story here.
"It would make a great vacation spot," John said. It was night, and they were sitting on a wide white stone platform, surrounded by water. The sky was heavily streaked with clouds but there were three moons of varying sizes, their light falling intermittently on the city spread out before them. The white stone of square pylons, columned walkways, and towers with odd spiral curves gleamed above the dark expanse of the water. The wind had died away with the light rain, and the quiet lap of the waves against the stone was soothing and homey.
Sitting next to him, Teyla smiled wryly. "It is beautiful. If we were not in danger of drowning..."
"You people are delusional," Rodney muttered from John's other side, and sneezed.
"Yeah, there's that," John agreed. "You okay back there, Ronon?"
From inside their makeshift tent, Ronon growled, "No."
The flood and the subsequent mudslide that had buried the gate were pretty bad, but at least the rain had stopped. And nobody was dead.
Yamato had hung back to shove Dr. Zelenka up the stairs, and been slammed into the wall by the wave and almost washed away. Ronon, fortunately, had dived back in, made a wild grab, and caught his ankle. Then they had had to get Ronon and Yamato out of the water, but Ronon was larger and still conscious, so it hadn't taken long. John and the other Marine, Andrews, had only had to do artificial respiration on Yamato for less than a minute before he revived. All in all, they had been pretty damn lucky. They had reached the stone platform before the bulk of the tsunami, flash flood, small tidal wave or whatever the hell it was, not even minus one of their six archeologists.
When they were first setting up this mission, John had worried about the inclusion of Dr. Rohmer, who was in his fifties and probably too old to be out here. Having seen Rohmer throw Dr. Rousseau over his shoulder and sprint up the sixty feet of uneven stone stairs with a killer wave licking his heels, John wasn't worried anymore. Sometimes you forgot archeologists spent most of their early careers hauling buckets of rocks. Once the rain had started, they had also been handy in quickly constructing two makeshift tents out of waterproof tarps, which was about all they had left of their supplies.
Now Yamato was tucked into one of the tents, wrapped in the only dry sleeping bag and several foil blankets. Ronon, with a broken wrist and massive bruises, was huddled in there with him, wet and in pain and pissed off at the world.
Zelenka ducked out of the other tent, calling, "Dinner is ready!"
Rodney twisted around, frowning. "Dinner? We have food?"
"We salvaged five damp MREs and two power bars, and combined them all together." Zelenka shrugged eloquently. "It's sort of a casserole."
"Sounds great," John said, over Rodney's groan.
They ate in front of their tents, with a fantastic view of the ruined city and the water limned in a triple helping of moonlight. A few tea packets and a can of sterno had also survived, and Rousseau made tea for Yamato. He had been coughing, which was worrying John a lot. None of their medical kits had made it onto the platform, and they didn't have anything to treat pneumonia or even a cold. Rodney had contributed a packet of Tylenol, which had been stuck in his tac vest, and they had given that to Ronon.
They had missed their last check-in by a few hours, which meant Atlantis had dialed in to try to contact them, and their attempts had probably just caused the wormhole's backwash to vaporize a lot of mud and water, which had immediately been replaced by more mud and water, and they couldn't even get a radio signal through. John wasn't too worried about the mud. He was pretty certain the jumper's drones could clear the slide, at least long enough for them to get through the wormhole. It was getting to the jumper he was worried about.
"We should have brought a boat," Dr. Jahnavi said, glumly surveying the expanse of water.
Zelenka waved an arm toward the flooded city. "We have boat! Is in jumper! Do prdele!"
"I know what that means!" Jahnavi snapped.
"No fighting, kids," John said absently. He flicked on his P-90's light, checking the high water mark Rodney had drawn against the side of the stairs. "Being flooded wouldn't hurt the inside of the jumper, right?"
Rodney grimaced, poking unhappily at his cup of crunchy casserole. "No, water in the compartments shouldn't effect it at all. Any Ancient components that would be damaged are carefully sealed. If we can get into the damn thing without drowning, we'll be fine."
John nodded to himself. "Then we can open it and get inside while it's still under water. So--"
"So we're not dead," Zelenka finished.
"That is always a relief to hear," Teyla added grimly.
"Are we doing this now?" Rodney demanded. "Because one of you is going to have to swim out there, and in the dark, it's going to be insanely dangerous."
"No, not now." John had been inwardly debating that for a while. Rodney was right about the insanely dangerous part. The flood had carried tree trunks and a lot of debris, and much of it was still swirling around in the current, barely visible in the bright moonlight. The water level hadn't risen in the past hour, so they had some leeway, and it was only about five hours until dawn. Waiting would lower the danger level of the swim considerably, and also give Atlantis some more time to try to get to them. "In the morning."
John put himself, Rodney, and Teyla in the smaller tent with Ronon and Yamato, so he could keep a closer eye on them, and left Andrews in the other tent with the archeologists and Zelenka. "It's soaking wet in here," Rodney said, shoving wet packs around. "And I know that's a stupid observation, of course I know that!"
"Nobody said anything, Rodney." John knew Rodney had been on edge all day, and he didn't think the flood had helped.
"I was going to say something." Ronon's voice was rusty and thick. Great, John thought. He's getting sick, too. It was a pleasant cool night, but he wished it was tropically warm.
Then Andrews poked his head inside their tent flap. "Colonel?" The trepidation in his voice wasn't encouraging. "Sir, we can't find Dr. Zelenka."
John stared. Seriously, it was a fifty foot platform. "What the hell do you mean you can't find--"
A grumpy voice interrupted from the back of the tent, "I'm not lost. I'm right here."
John twisted around, flashing his light into the back. Zelenka was crammed into the back, behind Ronon. John had thought the tent was more crowded than it should have been. "What are you doing in here?"
"This tent is better," Zelenka muttered, disappearing under the edge of a foil blanket.
"That's fine, Radek, give us all a heart attack," Rodney grumbled.
"I was sitting right here, Rodney," Zelenka pointed out.
"Sorry, sir." Andrews withdrew in confusion. Teyla had the first watch and was sitting near the steps where she could keep an eye on the water mark. She watched him go back into the other tent, shaking her head incredulously.
"Radek, what the hell?" John persisted. "You know better than to leave your team."
"I know, I know," Zelenka said from under the foil. "But I feel this tent has a better chance of survival."
Okay, not what John wanted to hear. "What?"
"The archeologists are all talking about death and Ascension, is very creepy," Zelenka's voice protested. "And look how long it took them to notice I was missing!"
"That's true," Rodney admitted reluctantly. "There aren't exactly a lot of short Czech engineers in the other tent for him to mill around with and get lost."
"God. Damn. It," John said. He ducked out from under the flap to go next door and count archeologists. "Andrews!"
They were all there, so John didn't shoot Andrews. But they did combine both tarps into one tent.
***
John woke to a hollow-eyed Ronon leaning over him, growling, "If we don't get out of here today, I'm going to kill McKay."
From somewhere behind John's head, Rodney's voice snapped, "If we don't get out of here today, I'm going to let you kill me."
Zelenka muttered, "Always you make promises, Rodney, and never keep them."
John had gotten a little sleep, in between waking up for the watch changes and for people whispering loudly "Don't disturb the colonel!" while standing on him. He sat up on his elbow to squint out the open tent flap. It was dawn and half the sky was still blue-black with storm clouds. Most of the tall feathery plume trees around the plaza and this section of the city had survived the wave, and they stood above the water, their soft emerald green foliage vivid against the sky.
"Whatever." John shoved himself upright. "Let's get this over with."
Now that the debris had had a chance to settle, the water was clear as glass, with only floating plume tree fronds to mar the view down to the paving. The jumper was clearly visible, some distance off the back of the platform, along with the submerged buildings, columns, and pylons.
"I'll do it, sir," Andrews volunteered, leaning out to eye the water thoughtfully.
"No, I'll take this one," John said. Andrews had the Ancient gene and could fly a jumper, but he was new to Atlantis and John wasn't certain how good he was in the water. He would rather do this himself.
John was stripping off his tac vest when Andrews said, "Sir!" Ronon growled, "Sheppard!" Teyla said, "John!" And Rodney said, "Wow, that's big."
John looked up.
High above, outlined against the gray rolling clouds, a large creature was circling. John squinted up at it, quickly revising his estimate of hawk-sized to condor-sized. Possibly larger than condor-sized. A lot larger. It was bright green and had bat-like wings, that was all John could make out. It was still high up, and didn't seem to be turning back for a better look. Hopefully it would just keep going on its way. He began, "Don't make any sudden moves--" just as Dr. Sorenson waved at it. "--especially that. Dr. Sorenson--"
The creature waved back.
Sorenson stared. "Oh. Oh, I didn't think that was going to happen."
***
As they all huddled inside the tent, John began, grimly, "Dr. Sorenson--"
Sorenson protested, "I just thought that perhaps it was sentient, and--"
"We all know that being sentient doesn't mean it doesn't want to eat us!" Rodney shouted.
Sorenson protested again, "Yes, but--"
Through gritted teeth, John said, "If the water rises again, we're in trouble. More trouble. So let's leave the aliens alone. Don't wave to them, don't shoot at them, don't make any attempt to attract their attention."
All the archeologists looked glum, but nobody argued. Sorenson drew breath to protest again, but three of the others glared him into submission.
"John," Teyla said softly from the edge of the tent, where she and Andrews were watching the flying thing with binoculars. "It has flown away towards the west."
"Right." John turned back to the tent flap. "Let's get this over with, take two."
Out on the platform, John stripped down to t-shirt and pants. He had considered going all the way to boxers, and if it had just been his team here, he would have. But the attentive audience made him self-conscious, and if he didn't pull this off, wet clothes would be the least of his problems.
"Careful," Rodney said, wincing as he eyed the water. "At least it's clear."
"There could still be giant...water...things," Zelenka contributed worriedly.
"I should go with you," Ronon said, cradling his broken wrist and looking depressed. He sounded as congested as Yamato, and Teyla patted his back sympathetically.
"Next time," John told him, and dove off the platform. The water was cool but not breathtakingly cold. He swam out from the platform until he could see the wavering shape of the jumper below him. They had landed on a plaza, next to a spiral design made of turquoise-colored stone set into the paving. With the smooth white paving and the tile, the jumper looked like it was parked on the bottom of a large expensive swimming pool. Here goes. John pulled the remote out of his velcroed pocket and triggered it.
The ramp dropped smoothly, the released air bubbling up to the surface. Loose items followed it, including a couple of field packs and a tablet. John winced, but once they had the jumper raised it wouldn't take long to retrieve this stuff, and most of it seemed to be floating.
The bubbling stopped, and John took a deep breath and went under, swimming down toward the jumper. He was about halfway there, focused on the open square of the hatch, when he caught movement in his peripheral vision.
John looked, and his heart froze. Coming toward him, coming toward him rapidly, was a snake. A big fucking giant snake, maybe twenty feet long and as big around as a Great White shark, dark scales vivid against the white paving, a spiny ridge along its back and a jaw the size of Wisconsin. Snakes, John thought, stunned. Snakes are always a problem after floods. He had forgotten that little fact.
John was too far from the jumper, and too far from the platform. He twisted, kicking hard, heading back up as fast as he could and not nearly fast enough. He broke the surface, hearing horrified yells from the others as they spotted the thing. John's mind was a desperate blank as he swam for the platform, driving himself through the water with every ounce of strength he had and knowing it wasn't going to be enough. He heard Ronon's gun fire, then two P-90s open up, and knew in despair he was too far away, the creature wasn't in range, and there was no way he could get close enough.
Something slammed into him, like being clipped by a speedboat; it grabbed his leg, yanked him under. Water flooded his lungs and, half-conscious, John had time to think, that's it. Then something big and green hit the water, he saw claws grip the snake's body and crush it down. The snake's head whipped up, releasing John, as dark blood colored the water.
Then something grabbed John again, yanking him up and out of the water.
He landed abruptly on dry stone, choking on a lungful of water. Something shoved him, rolling him over face down, and that let him cough it up. He gasped in a blessed water-free breath, and managed to shove himself up on his arms. That was when he saw the shadow surrounding him. Oh. Oh, crap. Moving slowly, he looked over his shoulder.
The flying alien was crouched over him, head cocked, round multi-faceted eyes studying him with curiosity. Close up it looked like a combination of reptile and insect, a far more harmonious combination than the Wraith's insect-human mix. It had scales on its wiry body, in jewel-bright shades of green, and the underside of its bat-like wings had a white translucent tracery that made John think of dragonflies.
In his peripheral vision, John could see a tableau. Teyla was in front, arms flung out in the signal for "don't shoot." Her expression was simultaneously terrified and hopeful. Rodney might have been posing for a statue of "horror-stricken astrophysicist dies of heart attack." Zelenka had his hands over his eyes. Ronon was aiming his weapon, one-handed, his face hard with fury. Andrews was pointing his P-90, waiting tensely. The archeologists were all snapping photos.
The alien flashed a look at them, then leapt into the air. Heart pounding, John pushed himself to his feet in time to see it dive into the water again, and come up gripping the dead snake. It flew away to land on one of the big pylons, and started to methodically eat the snake.
Then everybody was yelling, and exclaiming, and John found himself surrounded by Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon. "You were in a giant snake's mouth!" Rodney shouted furiously, like John had done it deliberately to piss him off.
"I know," he said, still watching the flying...person. It had huge teeth.
"You are not hurt?" Teyla demanded. She touched his arm worriedly. "We saw--"
"Yeah, no." John shook his head. The snake hadn't had teeth, just bone-crushing jaws. John assumed his leg was still all there or he wouldn't be standing on it.
"That was lucky," Ronon summed it up succinctly.
"No kidding," John said, and then he had to lie down for a while.
***
John was sitting on the platform with Rodney and Ronon, watching Andrews swim out to the jumper. The archeologists were still taking photos of the city while they could. The sun had broken through the clouds, gleaming off the clear water and the white stone. The three moons still hung huge in the blue sky, and the place was even more heartbreakingly beautiful.
Teyla stood nearby, shading her eyes as she kept watch on the flying alien. It was finishing up the last of its snake, and seemed to intend to hang around. John wondered if it wanted to keep an eye on them or was hoping that Andrews would attract another snake it could save for dinner.
Teyla's voice was tinged with regret when she asked, "Do you think there will ever be time to come back here?"
John knew what she meant. They could send an engineering team back to move the gate to a more stable spot. This place had potentially friendly non-human aliens, and architecture that made the archeologists come in their pants. And John had to admit to himself that if you were going to explore an alien planet for the sole purpose of seeing cool stuff, this one would be high on the list. But the truth was that all they had seen here were ruins, with no sign of useful technology. "I don't know. Probably not...for a while."
"There's nothing here." Rodney said miserably. He rubbed a hand over his face. "And there's no time."
He sees it too, John thought. It must have been wearing on Rodney since they had arrived. This planet and all its potential, all the wonderful possibilities they had to turn their backs on. "We'll come back," John said, surprising himself a little. "When the Wraith are dead, this place is first on the list."
Rodney made a "humph" noise, but he still sounded a little hopeful.
Teyla's smile was warm. "I will hold you to that."
Out in the water, the jumper broke the surface like a whale, shining in the sun.
end